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Robert Riley saw it all at White Furniture Company.
The factory "went from full-fledged manufacturing down to four bare walls,"
says Riley, a Point-to-Point driver who worked at White for 31 years, first in
Hillsborough and then in Mebane. "I dismantled the equipment and swept the
floor."
Riley and 202 other workers were left without paychecks when White shut its
doors in 1993. The 111-year-old company was one of the South's most prestigious
makers of furniture, specializing in high-end antique reproductions. White
pieces can be found in the White House and in Asheville's Grove Park Inn.
Within a few weeks of the closing, Riley found work through Tar Heels Temps
driving a Point-to-Point van. The temporary assignment led to a full-time
position in 1994. But while Riley enjoys his Carolina job, his heart remains in
Mebane.
"I'd be there today if they were still operating--there's no doubt in my
mind," says Riley, 61.
He most misses the camaraderie built by rubbing shoulders with co-workers for
eight hours a day.
"I knew a lot of people," he says. "They knew when my children were born and I
knew when their children were born. You were likely to spend more time with
them than with your own family."
In his years at White, Riley did "anything they needed to get the factory to
run." He started out carrying slabs of wood to the workers who fashioned the
furniture, and then managed the sawmill which cut the slabs. He next rubbed
down finishes and packed pieces for shipping. His last duty was driving a
supply truck.
Riley took over the sawmill operation in 1968, becoming the first African
American at White to hold a management position. He attributes the move to the
mood of the day, driven by the civil rights movement.
"The times were changing and White wanted to be a part of that change," he
says. "They had to be a part of that change."
White treated its employees well, Riley says. Arranging payroll deduction for
house payments and--profits allowing--handing out Christmas bonuses were ways
the company showed its concern.
"They were like a big brother or father watching over you--helping you if you
wanted to be helped," Riley says.
But the closing left workers without the company's paternalism. For Riley, the
blow hit hard.
"I had been there 31 years and for 31 years White had been my bread and butter
and now it was gone," says Riley, who's married and has two children.
But rather than indulge in self-pity or worry about putting food on the table,
Riley moved on: "If you cut your finger off, you have to accept that joint as
not being there anymore and make adjustments."
As a Point-to-Point driver, Riley has made many adjustments, not least of
which has been re-thinking the concept of night and day--his shift runs from 3
a.m. to noon. But life behind the wheel at a major university has its upside,
too. Given the nature of his passengers, Riley sees his van as a rolling
classroom with himself as the pupil.
"Anytime I think I can learn something that will help me along the way, I
strike up a conversation," Riley says. "This is how we learn--one from
another."
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