Development dramatizes emotional connections to family land
Lela loves the area, but avers that she would have moved years ago had she known the degree of the changes that development would bring to her area. One of the most significant changes is a loss of sentimental connection to the land, she believes, an observation that inspires J.D. to relate his family history and Lela to vent her frustration over how her family lost much of their land.
Citing this Excerpt
Oral History Interview with J. D. Thomas and Lela Rigsby Thomas, November 14, 2000. Interview K-0507. Southern Oral History Program Collection (#4007) in the Southern Oral History Program Collection, Southern Historical Collection, Wilson Library, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.
Full Text of the Excerpt
So, did
you ever think you'd see anything like this?
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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Never in my wildest dreams. Not like this.
- J. D. THOMAS:
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Not through here. In the lower lying areas, maybe. Down the river or
maybe through Asheville, Hendersonville area.
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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But never through here. Not in my wildest dreams, ever.
- J. D. THOMAS:
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Not up here anymore. Here we set today with all the conveniences of
home, Rob. Whatever they've got in the city, we've
got it out here.
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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See, we thought we'd be out here where it'd be
quiet and wouldn't have any more neighbors. Now
they're moving in and building and all this hullabaloo.
Coming in.
- ROB AMBERG:
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I'm curious. In '65 when you moved back up
here—seen into the future and seen today, what do you think?
Do you think you'd move back up here?
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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I think I would have moved. I really do.
- ROB AMBERG:
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Even though this road is here?
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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Yeah. I love it up here. I'd still come up here. I love the
mountains. I was most definitely wanting to come back. I really would.
- ROB AMBERG:
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I've asked people that. Especially people who have moved in
from the outside, like myself—if I would have moved here if
I'd known that there was going to be an interstate coming
through. And this doesn't affect me so much where I am now,
but it gives you pause, because roads usually bring people.
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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I think I would have come back, though.
- ROB AMBERG:
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I know you haven't farmed in years. I know you have a garden
and things like that, but you haven't farmed in many, many
years. Do you sense that people think differently
about their land now than they did back when you were growing up?
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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Oh, most definitely. They would hang onto it more. They
didn't want to let go of the land back then.
- ROB AMBERG:
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Why would people have wanted to hang on to it, do you think?
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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For sentimental reasons, I'd say. Because it'd
been in the family for years. Generation after generation. They want to
hang on to it.
- J. D. THOMAS:
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Well, things were hard to come by back then. We can read our history
books. Going back to one of my ancestors—William Henry
Thomas—that settled down the eastern part of the state, had
something like 6,000 acres down there. And when we look back at my
grandmother Thomas, who was born in 1848, she was nearly a full-blooded
Indian. Three quarters, something like that. We wonder what in the world
happened, Rob. Did an Indian get in the woodpile somewhere down along
the line or what? But no! You go back and search your history. William
Henry Thomas at that time was a young boy, nineteen or twenty years old.
He was well educated wherever he came from in 1730 when the
Thomases—three of them—came over here. The federal
government wanted to use him as a wagon-master or guide or what have
you—like that—when they were moving the Indians to
Oklahoma. Well, he took the job. He had a wagon, a team, a riding horse
and a cow. And he went along with that. When they got to Oklahoma he did
not want to bring the team and the wagon and the cow back. So he met
with an old Indian of another tribe there in Oklahoma, a Chippewa or a
Choctaw and he saw a sixteen-year-old Indian gal running around, and he
traded a wagon a horse and a cow. And he—and the little
girl's name was Two Step. She was full-blooded, what have you. They came back here and raised about
twenty-one children. [Laughter] She died
at the age of about 105, and he lived to about 115. People at that time
held on to their lands. Well, we was down in Georgia. You had many of
those plantation owners that still lived down there. Now Rob, those
people are the happiest people in the world working those plantations.
That is why we moved back here, because politics and other corruption
got started in 1963, and it was a dangerous place to raise children in
any time.
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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Let me say this. Rob, years ago my great-granddaddy owned all this
property. At one time, they owned about 600 acres all around through
here. When my grandmother and granddaddy died, then my mother and her
two sisters didn't know how to handle things. So, people came
through and more or less took the land from them.
- ROB AMBERG:
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That happened a lot, I think.
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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They took it. They just took it, because they didn't know how
to handle things.
- ROB AMBERG:
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Did your family own the Babbit place?
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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No.
- J. D. THOMAS:
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At one point in time they did!
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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At one time they did, yeah.
- J. D. THOMAS:
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At one time they did.
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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A lot of this land, my family owned it at one time.
- ROB AMBERG:
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It's always seemed to me that people—especially
old people—would hold onto land, because they knew they could
make anything they needed to on the land. It was sentimental and it had
been in the family for years, but also there was this idea that, "It might be worth so many dollars, but
what it's really worth is that I can make a living off of
here for a long time."
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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But they were easy going and they let people sweet talk them into
letting this go and that go, and whatever. So they just got talked out
of about four or five hundred acres of land.
- ROB AMBERG:
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Well, I would guess that this must have been a monumental undertaking
for your grandmother, and your mother and her sisters. That would have
been a really major job to try and maintain a place like this, hire the
people that it would take to keep it going.
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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No, I never thought that all these neighbors would be up here that we
have. Like Bruce coming in, buying that land from Kenneth, moving up
there. And the ones up on the hill, and all this trailer court, and all
these houses. It's just amazing. I wouldn't have
ever thought about that. Never in a hundred years.
- J. D. THOMAS:
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For some reason, though, people like to move from one place to another.
Why did you settle where you settle now? For peace of mind, and/or to
get away. But now, we're on this side. And now when you
interview these people on the other side, they're going to
have maybe a different story to tell you. Because they have lost all
their prize possessions, Rob. I feel for that, because
there's some here that still got large acres of land. They
can't get to it, it's landlocked. So they may have
a different feeling, more so than what we would have.
- ROB AMBERG:
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That's right.
- J. D. THOMAS:
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The road itself. As far as me, I'm an old-timer. It would
make no difference if the road come through or where it
didn't come through, as far as me. I'm happy for our younger people and the traffic flow,
and the advancing of times for it to be here.
- ROB AMBERG:
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So you're pleased that things are moving forward, then? That
you like being able to get into Asheville quicker than usual?
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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Yeah. Right.
- ROB AMBERG:
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So you find yourself going out more than you did when you were young?
- J. D. THOMAS:
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We're trying to enjoy this little bit of retirement here.
- LELA RIGSBY THOMAS:
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Yeah, big change over the last thirty years, I'd say. Big
change.