#28
September 1, 2026#31
September 1, 2026
Searchable issue transcript
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foothills foothills Digest Digest foothills foothills Digest Digest Come Sit A Spell Come Sit A Spell The story of furniture in wnc The story of furniture in wnc Display until 4/26 $10.95
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Named a TOP 100 HOSPITAL in the Nation for Patient Experience in 2025! Our Other 2025 Honors Include Being Named a Best Hospital for: Obstetrics l Outpatient Experience l Stroke Care l Bariatric Surgery l Minimally Invasive Surgery l Heart Care l Cancer Care l Orthopedics l Patient Safety
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TO SUBSCRIBE, SCAN CODE OR MAIL A CHECK FOR $37 TO Foothills Digest 1070 26th Ave NE Hickory NC 28601 Name: Address: Phone: Or, we accept credit cards. Card Number: Expiration: CVV Code: foothills Digest On the Cover: The "Kennedy Chair", properly called the "Carolina Rocker." Still proudly made the same way by Troutman Chair Company in Troutman.
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4 foothills Digest 3838 Cleary Rd Laurel Springs, NC 28644 Issue #30 2025 Phone: 828.475.1323 E-mail editor@foothillsdigest.com Website foothillsdigest.com Stock by Adobe Stock Created using Adobe Suite Edited with the assistance of Open AI PRINTED IN USA PARTNER COMPANY: ECKARD PHOTOGRAPHIC CARMEN ECKARD Editor-in-Chief Author JON ECKARD Photographer JOEY OSB ORNE Partner DON FORREST Sales Director CONTRIBUTOR Anna Fariello " Put it before them briefly so they will read it, clearly so they will appreciate it, picturesquely so they will remember it and, above all, accurately so they will be guided by its light." -Joseph Pulitzer Chair slats as they are nailed onto a rocking chair at Troutman Chair Company
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5 Dear Readers, Here in the Foothills, “come sit a spell” isn’t just something we say—it’s an invitation to rest, to connect, and to listen. It’s an offer of comfort, and in these hills, comfort often comes with craftsmanship. That’s why this issue of Foothills Digest is dedicated to the story of Western North Carolina furniture— an art form, an industry, and a legacy that has shaped who we are. For more than a century, hands in these parts have been shaping wood into beauty. From the early factories in Lenoir and Hickory to the family shops that still hum in small towns across the region, furniture has been both our livelihood and our language. We built chairs that rocked presidents, tables that held generations of Sunday suppers, and sofas that carried the weight of our stories. In these pages, you’ll meet the people who keep that story alive—the finishers and upholsterers, the designers and carvers, the dreamers who see a tree and imagine a home around it. You’ll learn how this industry grew from humble roots into an international symbol of craftsmanship, and how, even in an age of mass production, our region’s makers are proving that quality, care, and community never go out of style. Furniture, after all, isn’t just about wood and fabric. It’s about the spaces we share—the way a well-made chair invites conversation, or a sturdy table becomes the heart of a family. When we say “come sit a spell,” what we really mean is: take your time. Feel the workmanship. Appreciate what lasts. As you turn these pages, I hope you’ll find yourself filled with pride for this place and its people. Western North Carolina’s story is told not just in words, but in joinery and grain—in the rhythm of a craftsman’s hands and the creak of a well-loved rocker. So pull up a chair, friend. Come sit a spell, and let’s celebrate the story of Western North Carolina furniture—built to endure, and made with love. With gratitude, Carmen Eckard Editor-in-Chief Foothills Digest
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6 h i n d s i g h t FORWARD Marketing/PR strategy Team building > culture that makes productivity exhilarating Design/Style > Product development, Merchandising Growth planning Political messaging "Helpful" Board Member Simply being the “business therapist” you need—I’ve been there, have the awards and battle scars. I know where to look for answers. A unique approach to consulting, coaching and mentoring. Hindsight is potent. mghindsightforward.com mitchell@mghindsightforward.com MITCHELL GOLD 828.568.3499
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5 Letter from the Editor 8 Furniture in the Foothills 14 Fairfield Chair 20 Carolina Farm Table 26 Home of Successful Industry 28 Settin' Chairs 36 Woody's Chairs 40 Postcards 42 Hickory Furniture Mart 46 Built to Last 52 Catawba Valley Furniture Academy 56 Where Craft Meets Heart 58 Vanguard and The 8-Way Hand Tie 64 Full Service Experience for Homes 68 The Breath of the Beast 72 Talking with Mitchell Gold 80 Second Chances and Solid Wood 82 American Home 86 The Rhythm of Rest 88 The Builder's Line 92 Century 96 Designing a Sense of Space 98 On the Table with Ben Sullivan 100 A Look at Eller's Well-Crafted 110 Cool Before Cool was Cool Table of Table of Contents Contents Scan for information about our Advertisers. Foothills Digest is a proud sponsor of MerleFest, the Catawba Valley Pottery Festival, and the Smoky Mountain Blue Grass Festival.
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Prologue: Born of the Land Some industries are chosen. Others are born of the land. Furniture in the Foothills belongs to the second kind. Before a factory whistle ever blew in the Catawba Valley, the land itself was shaping this story. The Blue Ridge drops into the Piedmont here, and rivers quicken with sudden falls. Chief among them is the Catawba — a river dammed eleven times, each lake powering mills and lighting towns before electricity reached rural America. The other resource was all around: trees. Hickory, oak, walnut, maple, chestnut, cherry — hardwoods strong enough to endure and beautiful enough to prize. Settlers who arrived in the 1700s — Germans, Scots-Irish, English — carved what they needed from the forests. Every farmstead had a workshop. Every cabin doubled as a sawmill. Wood wasn’t a luxury. It was survival. But survival soon became pride. A chair that outlasted its maker, a cupboard passed down through generations, a table polished by countless meals — these were markers of skill. By the 1800s, timber was being hauled by wagon and floated downstream, much of it bound for factories far from the Foothills. People began asking a simple question: Why should the wealth of these trees leave us? Why not build furniture where the timber grew, where water powered the mills, and Furniture in the Foothills
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where hands already knew the craft? The land had been preparing us all along. Roots to Rails (1700s–1900) The first spark of industry here came not only from wood and water but from rails. After the Civil War, North Carolina’s railroad system lay in ruins. It was rebuilt during Reconstruction with Northern capital, Southern timber, and the hard labor of convicts laying track through stone and clay. Those rails stitched the Foothills to the nation, turning raw material into commerce. By 1890, North Carolina counted only six furniture factories, employing fewer than 200 workers. Just ten years later, there were 44 factories producing more than $1.5 million worth of furniture each year. High Point, Hickory, Marion, Morganton, Statesville, Greensboro, and smaller towns like Lenoir and Thomasville all joined the surge. In Hickory, merchant George W. Hall watched train after train carry Southern lumber north. He decided the value should stay home. In 1901, he gathered bankers and businessmen to found the Hickory Furniture Company. At just 28 years old, he became manager of the town’s first factory — and within a year helped open its second. The workforce was eager. Farmers squeezed by poor soil and falling cotton prices needed steady wages. Craftsmen arriving from other states trained locals willing to learn. By the 1920s, the Catawba Valley was dotted with factories. Furniture was no longer just something made here. It was becoming who people were. The Industry Takes Root (1900s–1930s) Once factories opened, the industry spread quickly. High Point began hosting exhibitions in the early 1900s, and by 1921 the Southern Furniture Exposition Building stood as a permanent trade hall. Buyers arrived from across the country, many placing orders for pieces built in the Foothills.
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The appeal was clear: wages here were about half of those paid in the North. In 1929, a North Carolina furniture worker earned $821 a year; in New York, the figure was $1,647. The work was demanding, but it gave families a measure of stability. Fathers and sons tied springs. Mothers and daughters cut fabric and sewed welting. Entire communities moved to the rhythm of factory whistles. The Depression tested that stability. Furniture was a luxury, and families struggling to afford bread weren’t buying new tables. Some companies shuttered, but others merged, downsized, and leaned on loyal workers. Bonds deepened. A paycheck wasn’t guaranteed, but when it came, it meant survival. Through it all, Foothills furniture earned a reputation. It was affordable and well made — a balance that became the region’s hallmark. And for generations, the foothills of North Carolina kept this rhythm. Men built furniture and saw their sons build furniture, then their grandsons. The region became known across the world for high-quality, beautiful furniture. The Fall (1999–2009) For nearly a century, Foothills factories hummed with confidence. Then, in less than a decade, much of it collapsed. Stress points began to show in the 1980s. The trigger was trade. In 1999, the United States signed an agreement with China that cleared the way for its entry into the World Trade Organization. Economists predicted only modest disruption. They were wrong. Between 1999 and 2009, North Carolina lost more than half of its furniture jobs. Entire towns felt the blow. “Gone to China” became shorthand for shuttered plants. Ironically, the first push overseas came from local boardrooms. Executives seeking cheaper production followed the same playbook their predecessors once used to undercut New England wages. At first, components were built abroad and finished here. Soon, entire plants shifted to Asia. Chinese partners became competitors, building American-style furniture at a fraction of the cost. Willingham Theater, Downtown Yadkinville, N.C. Sounds Mountains of the B lue R idge M usic C enter.org Balsam Range Sat., january 17 7:30 pm | $40 Blue Ridge Mountain Bluegrass Dashawn & wendy hickman + murphy, laurelyn, & riley Sat., january 24 7:30 pm | $25 Rhythm, Blues & Soul, and Acoustic Folk
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The numbers tell it starkly: in 1994, China exported $241 million in wooden furniture to the U.S. By 2004, that figure had exploded to $4.2 billion. By 2016, nearly three-quarters of all furniture sold in America was imported. The Foothills lost not only paychecks, but identity. As one former executive later wrote: it was like watching a way of life vanish almost overnight. The Embers Even at the lowest point, the craft remained. When the factories closed and windows went dark, the knowledge didn’t vanish with them. In Hickory and Lenoir, men and women still knew the feel of walnut under a blade, the rhythm of tying a spring, the patience of sanding a chair leg until it gleamed. Many set up shop in garages or spare rooms, repairing furniture for neighbors or building one-off pieces to keep the bills paid. In some homes, grandmothers passed on upholstery stitches at kitchen tables, while grandfathers taught children how to square a frame with hand tools. What had once filled vast factory floors lived on in smaller, quieter spaces. Some companies shrank to skeleton crews, but those crews carried priceless knowledge forward. At Fairfield, longtime employees like Sylvia Roark led departments with decades of experience. At Vanguard, fathers and sons tied springs the same way their grandfathers had, passing on methods too valuable to lose. Pride endured, too. Even when workers no longer had jobs, they still introduced themselves by the plants that shaped their lives: “I was at Bernhardt,” or “My daddy retired from Henredon.” At high school games, half a bleacher might once have worked at the same factory. Those factories might have closed, but the identity remained stitched into families and towns. The ember glowed in those quiet hands and stubborn memories. It only needed the right wind to flare again. The Return (2010s–Present) By the 2010s, that ember began to blaze again. Wages rose in China, and the hidden costs of offshoring — shipping delays, inventory problems, long lead times
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12 — eroded its advantage. Tariffs added more pressure. Gradually, the math changed. Furniture once again made sense in the place it had always belonged. Companies that endured the storm leaned into what set them apart: craftsmanship, customization, community. Fairfield Chair stayed loyal to Lenoir, keeping production local and even pivoting during the pandemic to make masks and gowns. Vanguard doubled down on customization and sustainability, showing traditional techniques could power modern design. Century Furniture expanded its luxury offerings, still headquartered in Hickory. Bernhardt, family-owned for more than 130 years, carried Caldwell County’s name worldwide. Lee Industries thrived on eco-friendly, American-made upholstery. Hickory Chair blended century-old skill with contemporary aesthetics. Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams in Taylorsville reshaped the industry with fresh, inclusive design. Outdura in Hudson supplied high-performance outdoor fabrics, proving the supply chain itself is part of the region’s strength. And through it all, Hickory Furniture Mart continued to bring the world to Hickory. Revival didn’t happen by chance. Leaders saw the shortage of skilled hands and turned to education. At Catawba Valley Community College, the Furniture Academy was created to train upholsterers, cutters, and finishers. Nearly 100 percent of graduates step into jobs immediately. Today, more than 35,000 North Carolinians work in furniture manufacturing, with 8,700 in Catawba County alone, generating over $350 million in wages each year. The scale is smaller than the golden age, but the spirit is just as strong.
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13 Looking Forward The story isn’t finished. Scott Millar of the Catawba County Economic Development Corporation puts it simply: “The industry is reconsolidating in the Hickory area, and the big names are all focusing on making the high-quality product we have always crafted here.” Before his passing, visionary Leroy Lail, who helped turn Mull’s Motel into the Furniture Mart, echoed that hope: “I think furniture in Hickory has a great future. Our manufacturers specialize in furniture that is well-crafted. They’ve seen the future and are working with CVCC and the Furniture Academy to train the next generation.” The industry is smaller now, but it is sharper, smarter, and more nimble. Companies have shifted from chasing volume to cultivating excellence. “Made in the Foothills” doesn’t mean cheaper. It means better. The Foothills Legacy The forests gave the material. The river gave the power. The people gave the skill. Out of that mix grew an industry that shaped identity as much as economy. Yes, the region stumbled. Factories closed. Jobs vanished. But the craft never disappeared. It endured in quiet hands until the moment came to rise again. Walk through a Vanguard workshop. Step into a Fairfield showroom. Climb the stairs of the Hickory Furniture Mart. What you see isn’t just wood and fabric. You see heritage. You see a continuation of a story three centuries in the making. The world still looks to the Foothills for furniture. And the world still knows the truth: if it comes from here, it will be well crafted. Because this is not just an industry. It is a legacy. A way of life. And it endures. With 85,000 sq. ft. of showroom space at Hickory Furniture Mart, filling four galleries with furniture and accessories: • Southern Style Fine Furniture • Heritage Furniture Gallery • Heritage Furniture Outlet • Hooker Furniture Outlet FULL SERVICE INTERIOR DESIGN Services from the ground up! (828) 522-9302 2220 US Hwy 70 SE Hickory, NC 28602
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Fairfield Chair: Craft, Community, & Continuity in Lenoir In Lenoir, furniture isn't just made — it’s lived. It shapes the rhythm of daily life, the pride in steady work, and the legacy of families who’ve stayed even when the industry shifted around them. One company in particular has done more than stay — it’s helped hold the town together. Fairfield Chair Company, founded in 1921, is still headquartered in Lenoir, still owned by the Beall family, and still driven by the belief that craftsmanship and community are inseparable. Built to Stay That belief started generations before the company itself. James Harper, an ancestor of today’s leadership, moved to the area in the early 1800s, opened one of Lenoir’s first general stores, and donated land for the town’s layout in 1841. Decades later, his grandson James Harper Beall Sr. purchased a bankrupt furniture plant and reopened it as Fairfield Chair — not just to build furniture, but to protect local jobs. “My family’s roots in Lenoir run deep,” says Anne-Lindsay Beall. “Fairfield was restarted in 1921 with the goal of keeping opportunity in this town, and that commitment hasn’t changed.” Leadership Through Generations Public service has long been part of the Beall family’s identity — from local government to business leadership. Anne-Lindsay’s father, Harper Beall III, joined Fairfield at sixteen doing the hard, unglamorous work — sweeping floors, stacking lumber, and cleaning the ancient boiler. He eventually led the company for more than four decades with a quiet philosophy that still guides the factory today: “Make every chair as though you were going to own it yourself.”
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15 Harper was deeply respected by those who worked with him. Stories about his kindness still circulate — small moments that meant everything to those on the receiving end. When he passed in 2019, Fairfield lost more than a president. Lenoir lost one of its most loyal stewards. In the years after Harper’s passing in 2019, longtime Board Chair John Beall — Harper’s brother and a steady presence at Fairfield — stepped in to help guide the company forward. “My uncle John was a good and kind man, a strong Christian, and a strong leader,” says Anne-Lindsay. “He wanted me here to make sure family leadership would carry on.” John Beall passed away earlier this year, leaving behind not just a leadership role, but a legacy of humility, faith, and service to both the company and the community. His loss marked the end of another chapter in Fairfield’s family story — and strengthened Anne-Lindsay’s resolve to carry it into the next.
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Today, that leadership continues through her and her cousin, John Beall, the founder’s great- grandson. Anne-Lindsay serves as the new Chairman of the Board. For her, the work is personal. “I saw how much my dad loved Fairfield — the people, the process, all of it,” she says. “I understand that because I love it too. I feel a real sense of pride and responsibility in carrying this legacy forward.” Work You Can Feel Inside Fairfield’s two Lenoir plants, the company’s values take physical form. Each piece of furniture passes through more than two dozen pairs of hands — from the first cut of hardwood to the final inspection. Skilled craftspeople shape frames, guide fabrics through industrial machines, upholster with practiced tension, and finish each piece with care. Robots assist with precision where needed, but the human eye still governs comfort, proportion, and feel. “From frame-builders to upholsterers and sewers to hand-finishers, these individuals are true craftswomen and craftsmen,” says CEO Dixon Mitchell. “They care deeply about what they make.” Anne-Lindsay agrees. “We absolutely use robotics and highly sophisticated machinery — they help us build with consistency. But there’s no replacing decades of experience. What sets Fairfield apart is the pride our people take in their work, and the details only they will catch.” A Community Worth Building For Fairfield employs around 500 people, many of them multi-generational. It's not uncommon to find a parent and child working side by side. “When most of the local industry moved production overseas, Lenoir was hit hard,” Anne-Lindsay says. “But Fairfield stayed. We’ve made hard choices to keep people working.” That includes navigating economic shifts with resilience. During the 2008 recession,
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the company pivoted into senior living furniture, a sector where it now leads nationally. During the 2020 pandemic, it secured a government contract to produce PPE — ensuring paychecks kept flowing even when furniture demand stalled. “Our responsibility has always been bigger than profit,” she says. “It’s about honoring the people who built this company and protecting the community we serve.” Forward Thinking, Firmly Rooted That commitment also shows up in the details: all wood used is Forest Stewardship Council–certified. Fairfield was an early adopter of environmental practices within the American Home Furnishings Alliance. The company also invests in the future of skilled trades through apprenticeship partnerships with Caldwell Community College — ensuring that techniques like hand-finishing and upholstery aren’t lost to time. Though it began as a chair company, Fairfield’s reach now extends into every room of the home, as well as commercial and hospitality spaces. Its catalog includes everything from traditional wingbacks to sleek contemporary silhouettes, made for boutique hotels, retirement communities, country clubs, and residential interiors nationwide. Lenoir and Fairfield: Inseparable Still, for all that growth, Fairfield’s identity remains deeply local. “Fairfield has always been part of the fabric of this town,” Anne-Lindsay says. “Our employees are our neighbors, our friends. In many cases, generations of the same family have worked here. You can see Fairfield’s impact in the churches, the schools, and the civic groups our people support. This company’s story is tied to the story of Lenoir.” That connection isn’t just history — it’s living, breathing, ongoing. The people
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who walk through Fairfield’s doors each day don’t just clock in; they show up with skill, pride, and the knowledge that what they’re building matters. It matters to customers, yes — but also to their families, their coworkers, and their town. That sense of shared purpose is hard to manufacture. It grows slowly over time, through trust, consistency, and care. Anne-Lindsay sees it every day — in the quiet way a veteran craftsman teaches a younger hire to perfect a finish, in the laughter from the breakroom, in the handwritten notes from employees who feel seen. “There’s a kind of pride here that you can’t force. It comes from doing something well, for a long time, and knowing it’s appreciated,” she says. It’s that enduring pride — not just in the furniture, but in the people behind it — that she believes will carry Fairfield forward. “We’re not chasing trends,” she says. “We’re building on what lasts. People know when something’s been made with care. They can feel it.” And the next chapter is already underway — built not just on memory or nostalgia, but on the enduring values of craft, integrity, and care. “There’s nothing flashy about what we do,” Anne-Lindsay says. “We just do it well, and we do it together. That’s what makes Fairfield what it is — and why it still matters.”
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In a small mountain town with just three stoplights, where sawdust settles like snow and the past feels close enough to touch, the heartbeat of Carolina Farm Table echoes through every joint, every planed edge, every plank of locally grown walnut and reclaimed oak. This isn’t just a workshop. It’s a living heirloom. The shop sits quietly on Alleghany Street in Sparta, North Carolina, inside a weathered brick building that once housed a Lowe’s Hardware. That building has stood longer than most things in town—and it’s been paid off for decades, just like the wisdom and care behind the tables made inside. It all started with Designs in Wood, the original business founded in 1972 by John and Penny Ulery. At first, it was hand-carved mirrors, custom-designed clocks, and birdhouses—sold in art shows across the country in the ’70s and ’80s. They took their son on the road to places like Ann Arbor MI, Tallahassee FL and even Salt Lake City UT, traveling like modern-day troubadours with a box truck full of hand- carved treasures. “That’s how you got your goods to the consumer,” their son Devin recalls. “We’d set up at art shows all summer. That’s how I grew up.” Carolina Farm Table
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22 Eventually, the family landed in the Blue Ridge, and the business grew into something quieter, steadier—less art fair and more legacy. Now known as Carolina Farm Table, it’s run by Devin and his wife Anna, along with a small, tight-knit crew of craftspeople: Shane, Zach, and Luke. “We’re not just building furniture,” Devin says. “We’re making something that lasts generations.” Tables Built Like Stories The company’s signature piece is the farm table— but no two are quite alike. Customers often bring photos or sketches, and Devin’s team translates them into custom heirlooms. Sometimes those designs get folded into their broader line. Others remain one-of-a-kind. In one room, a slab of old-growth hemlock stretches across a pair of hand-carved bases—its tight grain a quiet marvel. The beams came from a reclaim yard near Shelby, paid for dearly, every knot and ripple show that it's worth the cost. In another room, a smooth walnut table gleams under natural light—no distressing, just clean craftsmanship. “You don’t need reclaimed wood for quality,” Devin explains. “But for character? Yeah. That’s where the soul is—the knots, the cracks, the age.” The shop builds with both new and reclaimed lumber, using local sources when possible. Whether it’s pine finished with wax and hand-planed ripple, or epoxy- stabilized barnwood, each piece carries its own voice. While the tables are crafted in-house, the chairs that often accompany them come from a trusted partner in Pennsylvania—another, family-run operation that shares Carolina Farm Table’s values of durability, integrity, and timeless design. Devin began working with them over 20 years ago, drawn to the quality of their solid hardwood construction and the way their aesthetic naturally complemented his own. The relationship has endured, not just out of convenience, but because it works. “They make a beautiful product,” Devin says. “It’s the kind of chair that feels like it’s always belonged with our tables.” Generations in Wood, and in Spirit John Ulery passed away two years ago, but his legacy lingers everywhere—in the old templates hanging on the walls, in the curves of the oval bases, in the memory of scrollwork planter boxes still found in homes across the region. “He started in California, then Asheville, and finally ended up here,” Devin says. “He built all this.”
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23 Devin officially took over about a decade ago. Around the same time, he registered the CarolinaFarmTable.com domain—thanks to a tip from an SEO-savvy friend who said, “If you can, put what you do and where you are in the domain name.” It worked. Orders started coming in online, and soon, the digital path overtook the old ones. That year, Devin had also participated in the High Point Furniture Market as part of a Handmade in America showcase—with Bob Timberlake himself at the ribbon-cutting. But the booth never quite took off. “It felt like a sign. High Point didn’t work for us. The internet did. So that’s the way we went.” Craft in Community Though most orders now come through the website or by referral, Carolina Farm Table remains deeply embedded in the regional arts community. For over a decade, they’ve participated in the NC Mountain Arts Adventure, a studio tour that includes jewelers, potters, painters, and fellow woodworkers. They’re also featured on the Blue Ridge Craft Trails, with support from arts advocates like Robin Johnston and Angie Chandler helping promote artisans in meaningful ways. Devin and Anna recently showcased their work at the Earl Scruggs Music Festival in Tryon, joining a small but mighty group of craftspeople under the same tent. “It’s nice to go do a show and be part of a group. There's something special about being part of a group of artists. They still homeschool their two daughters, ages 10 and 13, balancing sawdust and schoolwork, camping trips and city visits—just like Devin’s own upbringing. ONE FAMILY. 900 MEMBERS. 76 YEARS & COUNTING. APPLY TODAY AT WWW.CENTURYFURNITURE.COM/CAREERS
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“We grew up in the country, but my parents took us everywhere,” he says. “I’m trying to give my kids that, too.” Where Craft Meets Place Carolina Farm Table may ship pieces to homes all across the country, but its roots are deep in the mountain clay of Sparta, North Carolina. Inside the old hardware building on Alleghany Street, you’ll find the hum of saws, the scent of fresh-cut walnut, and the quiet rhythm of people who love what they do. The business has grown over the years—from scrollwork clocks to custom dining tables, from art fairs to online sales— but the soul of the work hasn’t changed. Every table still begins with a conversation. Every board is still shaped by hand. And every piece tells a story, built with care to last through family dinners, birthdays, and generations not yet imagined. “This is where we build,” Devin says, waving toward the long workbench and a wall of clamps. “This is what we do.” And what they do is more than woodworking. It’s honoring tradition, embracing place, and helping people gather in spaces that feel like home. To start your own story—or to see what’s in stock now— visit carolinafarmtable.com. You can explore available designs, place a custom order, or schedule a visit to the workshop, where old tools and new ideas come together beneath beams that have seen it all. Because real craftsmanship isn’t a thing of the past—it’s alive and well, right here in the Carolina hills.
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26 A Successful Campaign
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In 1938, North Carolina called itself “Home of Successful Industry,” and it wasn’t just a slogan— it was a statewide strategy. The Department of Conservation and Development launched a national advertising campaign to lure manufacturers south, promoting the state’s ideal mix of location, labor, and low costs. The series appeared in trade journals and national magazines, featuring taglines like “Take a Chair!” and “A Natural for Dining-Room Furniture.” These clean, optimistic ads painted North Carolina as a business paradise: “Native-born labor… Business-minded legislation… Strategic location… Plentiful raw materials… Ample economical power… Excellent transportation facilities… Moderate climate.” The pitch was simple—build here, and your costs drop while profits rise. With over half the nation’s population within a 600-mile radius, abundant hardwood forests, and newly harnessed hydroelectric power, the numbers added up. It worked. The campaign coincided with the rise of powerhouse names like Hickory Chair, Drexel, Bernhardt, and Broyhill—firms that defined American furniture for much of the 20th century. Local craftsmanship and entrepreneurial grit were the backbone, but it’s clear now that the state’s economic identity was also carefully cultivated and marketed. Manufacturers didn’t just stumble upon North Carolina—they were invited here, courted by ads that promised prosperity and delivered it. Yet, one line in those ads tells another story: “Native- born labor.” In the 1930s, that phrase carried coded meaning. It implied a workforce that was white, English-speaking, and non-union—an image crafted to appeal to Northern industrialists nervous about immigrant labor or organized strikes. It excluded many Black North Carolinians from the prosperity it advertised, even though their labor and skill were vital to the state’s economic success. Today, looking back, those words remind us that progress often carries contradictions. The same forces that made North Carolina a furniture capital also reflected the social divides of their time. But together, they set in motion a century-long legacy— one where the mountains, mills, and makers of this region became synonymous with craftsmanship, ingenuity, and homegrown pride.
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Settin' Chairs: Settin' Chairs: Silver River, Caning Through Time Silver River, Caning Through Time
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29 Chairs tell stories if you know how to listen. In the hills and valleys of Western North Carolina, a chair was never just a place to sit. It was a place to rest, to welcome neighbors, to carry a family’s mark across generations. The old makers knew the difference. Birdie Mace, one of Madison County’s master craftsmen, liked to say, “If company comes, and you don’t want ’em to stay long, bring out a ladderback. But if you want ’em to set a spell and visit, you offer a settin’ chair.” The settin’ chair is our region distilled — bent posts curved back like mountain trails, rungs fitted tight without nail or glue, seats woven from bark or corn shucks gathered after harvest. Every one of them was made to be leaned into, to last, to outlive the people who shaped it. And this tradition was never just a single line passed down from one hand to the next. It spread like a web across the mountains, each small town with its own craftsman or craftswoman, each family bending wood and weaving seats in their own way. That web hasn’t broken. It stretches into the present through the hands of Brandy Clements and Dave Klingler, the Chair Nerds of Silver River. “This is bigger than us,” Brandy says, and she’s right. Global Roots, Local Adaptations Chair caning didn’t start in Appalachia. Its roots run deep into the ancient world — in Egypt, woven seats were placed in the tombs of kings. In China, patterns still familiar today were pressed into clay thousands of years ago. The rattan palm, the main material of caning, grows in the jungles of Southeast Asia, and its fibers traveled west in the holds of ships alongside tea and spices. By the 1600s and 1700s, caned chairs were already a sign of refinement in Europe and the American colonies.
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When the practice reached the Blue Ridge, it changed shape. Mountain craftsmen and women were known for using what was close at hand: hickory bark split thin, corn shucks twisted into rope, cattails gathered from the river. That Appalachian instinct — to use every part of a tree or crop, nothing wasted — gave the region its own spin on a global tradition. Here, the art of seat weaving took many forms — caned, bark, rush, and Shaker tape — all rooted in the same impulse to make beauty from what was at hand. On the wall of Brandy’s old studio was a quote from furniture historian Benno M. Forman, author of American Seating Furniture, 1630–1730: “Chairs are documents, and caners are historians who preserve centuries of designs and techniques.” Her partner, Dave Klingler, explains it another way: “The history is on different levels—the piece we’re working on, the style of chair, and then the fact that we’re doing the same patterns people did thousands of years ago.” What looks simple — strips woven into neat little octagons — is in truth a craft that spans continents and centuries. “Caning isn’t just a chair thing,” Brandy says. “It’s botany, physics, history, culture— it’s nerdy in the best way.” From Family Craft to Calling For Brandy Clements, seat weaving is more than a craft — it’s a family thread running back at least four generations. She learned from her Aunt Linda, who had once stacked chairs around the house until their grandparents finally gave in and taught her. Brandy’s father encouraged her to give it a try when she was nearly thirty. “My dad said I should learn chair weaving and go to my aunt’s for a week. So I did,” she recalls. “Shortly after that, he died. It became a way to honor him — to build a relationship with my aunt and to make him proud.” What started as a skill quickly became a fascination. “People would tell me the story of their chair, sometimes the history of it. That’s where I fell down the rabbit hole,” she says. =Her partner, Dave Klingler, came into the work from another angle. He grew up with woodworking — the kind of person who fixed or built what was needed. “I’d Fine Furniture Consignment 831 Old Lenoir Rd Hickory, NC 28601 @thehickorytree (828) 324-1655 www . shophickorytree . com
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31 always worked with my hands,” he says. “Getting to work with wood and these materials — it’s constant problem-solving. But I didn’t get hooked until we started teaching.” Together, the two of them became what they proudly call “chair nerds.” They opened their first shop in the River Arts District in Asheville — 500 square feet, no windows, just three lightbulbs, and a lot of chairs. They repaired, restored, and listened to the stories people carried in with their furniture. But the more they worked in public, the more they realized how rare and intriguing the craft seemed to outsiders. “My dad used to say, don’t teach anyone, they’ll steal your business. He was wrong,” Brandy laughs. “Teaching made everything richer. People were so grateful, because for so many families this tradition had almost slipped away. Passing it on made us better, too.” Building a Living Museum Silver River grew into more than a workshop. Over time, it became the nation’s only seat weaving school and museum — a place where history is hung right on the walls. Visitors walking in might see pressed cane, rush, splint, Shaker tape, Danish cord — the basic weaves that tie centuries of design together. The couple likes to call it the “Chair Wall,” a permanent exhibit that shows the diversity of the craft at a glance. Inspiration struck after they stumbled across The Art of Seating, a traveling exhibit that highlighted the beauty of woven chairs in museum settings. “We saw that and thought, why not here?” Dave says. That seed grew into a collection of their own: chairs from around the region, each with its own story, from postmasters and cafeterias to generations of families who couldn’t bear to throw them away. But Silver River has always been about more than collecting objects — it’s about passing knowledge along. Their classes range from short beginner workshops to full restoration training, and their YouTube channel, built during the pandemic, has carried their lessons around the world. “It’s not about us,” Brandy says. “It’s about the chairs. We’re just the custodians for a while.” For Brandy and Dave, teaching
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is what keeps the tradition alive. “It’s watching the lightbulbs go on,” Dave says. “That moment when somebody realizes they can do this — it’s the best part of the job.” Continuity & Change The story of seat weaving in Western North Carolina has always been one of continuity and change. In the 19th century, farmers often built chairs alongside their crops, selling a few on the side for cash they couldn’t raise from the soil. By the early 1900s, the tide shifted. As industrialization swept through the South, factories rose in Hickory, High Point, and Morganton, offering regular paychecks in exchange for mass production. Many mountain chairmakers put down their drawknives and followed the whistles of the factory. Men framed chairs on the line; women bent over seats, weaving cane until their fingers split. Even so, the tradition didn’t die. Families kept weaving in barns and sheds, some for necessity, some for pride, passing patterns on like recipes. Craft Revival leaders, alarmed at the loss, pushed to preserve handmade settin’ chairs and other mountain goods, creating new markets that allowed traditions to persist in the shadow of factory towns. Adaptation was always the way forward. Silver River is part of that same pattern. Just as earlier generations of makers balanced continuity with change, Brandy and Dave have had to adapt in ways they never imagined. In 2024, Hurricane Helene swept through the River Arts District, flooding their shop and destroying much of their carefully built collection. Chairs that had carried a century of stories were gone in a night.
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33 They could have stopped. Instead, they regrouped. With the help of friends and neighbors, donated shelves and tables, and a handful of grants, they opened a new space on Main Street in Weaverville. “We don’t want to come back bigger and stronger,” Brandy says. “We want to come back with intention.” The move itself tells a story of resilience. Their longtime friends at Five Little Monkeys Quilt & Sew shifted upstairs, leaving the ground floor open for Silver River. They even passed down shelving and work tables, building the new space quite literally on a foundation of community generosity. The new home carries a different spirit than the River Arts District — less tourist-driven, more neighborly. For Brandy and Dave, that feels right. “Last fall showed us how quickly it could all be swept away,” Brandy reflects. “This isn’t just about one shop. It’s about keeping the tradition alive.” That thread — survival through change — ties them back to generations of mountain craftsmen and women before them. The tools may be different, the setting may shift from barn to factory to Main Street, but the heart of the work remains the same: bending wood, weaving cane, and holding fast to the belief that the old ways still matter. Teaching the Next Generation For Brandy and Dave, keeping the doors open isn’t just about saving chairs — it’s about saving knowledge. Their classes are the heartbeat of Silver River, drawing everyone from retirees who want to restore a family heirloom to twenty-somethings eager to start seat weaving businesses of their own. Over the years, more than thirty new seat weaving shops have spun off from their students. The diversity of their classroom surprises some visitors. Elementary school students sometimes stop by to try Shaker tape weaving, often showing a natural aptitude for the craft. Older learners come for one- or two-day workshops, week-long intensives, or even extended two-week series. Some return each year, seeking help with more advanced techniques or to refine the traditional handwoven, six-way caning pattern they use
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34 in their own chair businesses. The studio also welcomes craft school students supplementing their studies in woodworking, decorative arts, or museum curation. Watching students discover the craft never gets old for her. Brandy grins when she talks about those moments. “It’s botany, it’s physics, it’s history and culture. Like it’s highly steep, highly nerdy,” she says. Silver River has extended its reach far beyond Western North Carolina. During the pandemic, when in-person workshops were impossible, Brandy and Dave turned to video. Their YouTube channel and Zoom lessons carried the craft into living rooms around the world. For many, that was their first encounter with the rhythm of weaving, the same patterns followed by people thousands of years ago. “We didn’t anticipate it being what it is now, and having people come from all over the world to take classes with us,” Brandy admits. Yet here they are — teaching, restoring, and in many ways redefining what it means to preserve a tradition. Looking Ahead Brandy and Dave don’t measure their work only in the number of chairs repaired or students trained. They think in decades — in what this tradition will look like long after they’re gone. “What I’d love to see 20, 30, 50 years from now is people valuing craft as a legitimate career,” Brandy says. “Not just a side hustle or hobby, but something society respects. Making things with your hands is good for the soul, and it’s good for communities.” That vision is already beginning to take shape. Their new book, The Woven Chair, distills ten years of teaching into step-by-step guidance, patterns, and history. Silver River is also part of Handwork 2026, a nationwide initiative celebrating 250 years of American craft. They’ll host community classes on a sliding scale, ensuring that anyone with an interest — no matter their budget — can try their hand at weaving, as well as hosting an Open House and Book Signing Event on January 17, 2026. Ad Available $900
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35 For Brandy and Dave, the flood clarified what matters most. It stripped away what could be lost and left behind the essence of why they do this work. “This is bigger than us,” Brandy says simply. Looking ahead, they see themselves as one link in a long chain — or maybe one strand in a woven seat. The pattern stretches backward into ancient history and outward across the globe, yet it also sits right here in Appalachia, where a settin’ chair still waits to hold you steady. In the end, a chair is more than wood and weave. In Western North Carolina, it has always been a gesture of welcome, a way to say set a spell and stay awhile. Birdie Mace’s old wisdom still rings true: a stiff ladderback might get you out the door, but a settin’ chair invites you into conversation, memory, and belonging. That’s what Brandy Clements and Dave Klingler are really building at Silver River — not just seats that can hold weight, but a place where stories and skills meet across generations. Their work honors the past while pointing toward a future where craft is not quaint but essential. In the quiet rhythm of fiber woven through fiber, in the bend of fresh red oak, in the patient hands of students learning the pattern — the tradition lives on. And thanks to Silver River and the global community of chair nerds and makers who have lifted one another through storms, floods, and time itself, it’s a craft that continues to endure — one seat, one story, one chair at a time. www.assemblyrequirednc.com 828-404-4513 Need Help? Phil Early's Got you. From furniture assembly to fixing that annoying problem you can't solve, Phil offers old-school handy-man services.
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Woody’s Woody’s Chairs Chairs Anna Fariello Anna Fariello Woody Brothers Photograph by Edward DuPuy
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37 Woody family chairs are made to outlive their owners. Likely they won’t last quite as long as the Woody family business, that’s been in operation in western North Carolina since the early 1800s. Their finely made chairs, including ladder backs and rockers, are made in the old fashioned way, without glue or metal fasteners to hold them together. The chair back slats are first boiled to allow them to bend. The cross members are cut and lathed to shape. Once all the pieces are complete, they are put together while the wood is still green, driving air-dried rungs into green upright posts. As the posts dry, the wood shrinks, clamping the rungs and creating a tight fit The result is a chair using a time honored and authentic technique. The Woody family story is one of skill and family apprenticeships. The eldest documented Woody— Wyatt—came to Mitchell County in the early 1800s. Since then, seven additional generations of Woodys have carried on their chair making tradition. Little is known about Wyatt Woody and his son Martin, but the family line is well documented in the 20 th and 21 st centuries. While wood construction was the domain of the men the family, several of their wives completed the chairs by weaving and caning chair seats. Both Arthur Woody (1856–1952) and his son Charlie Woody (1883-1943) continued the work of patriarchs Wyatt and Martin, in Mitchell County. Back in the day when most everything was handcrafted, most everything was bartered as well. Arthur Woody took his chairs on an ox-drawn cart to Marion and Forest City to exchange for coffee and sugar. During the craft revival, a period when mountain crafts came to the attention of northern markets, Arthur Woody shipped chairs by rail to cities like Boston. In the 1930s, Charles Woody taught chair making at the newly founded Penland School of Handicrafts, today’s Penland School of Craft. After World War II, the business passed on to four brothers—Arval, Walter, Paul, and Frank—with Arval and Walter focused on the family business. Although Arval had been hanging around his grandfather’s shop since the age of six, he didn’t decide to seriously carry on the family business until he returned from the war. It was then, in 1946, that the brothers built a concrete shop to replace the earlier waterwheelpowered barn that had served the earlier generations. Photograph by Leanne E. Smith
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While Arval’s grandfather Arthur sold chairs for three for a dollar—when mountain land went for $3 an acre—post-war Woody family chairs began to garner interest and more substantial income. By 1955, the next generation began making chairs in earnest with Max Woody (1929-2019) opening a shop in Marion in 1955. Woody’s chairs gained the attention of North Carolina Governor Terry Sandford who arranged for their chairs to be purchased for the White House. One chair went to President Kennedy and two others for his children, Caroline and John, Jr. Asheville author Wilma Dykeman included their shop in her book The French Broad, and their chairs making skills featured in National Geographic. Woody family chairs are in the Smithsonian’s collection. Arthur Woody made his first chair with a knife and auger. Any additional tools were either made by hand or reworked to fit a need. Sixth generation maker Max Woody continued to craft chairs using mostly hand tools, adding a lathe to his repertoire. Max made chairs almost exclusively, except for the occasional rolling pin he made for visitors to his shop. Before his passing in 2019, Max Woody demonstrated his skills at Mars Hill College, Western Carolina University, and at the North Carolina state capitol. Aside from his skill as a wood worker, Max was a fiddler and frequent visitor to old-time music jams in Buncombe and McDowell Counties. In 2016, the North Carolina Folklore Society honored Max Woody with its prestigious BrownHudson Folklore Award, in recognition for his lifelong commitment to keeping alive North Carolina traditions and for fostering understanding of these traditions. Decades ago, before people were so concerned about locally sourced goods, the Woody family used wood from North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Mountains. For strength and durability, they uses local hardwoods, such as black walnut, wild cherry, maple, oak, and ash. Arval Woody summed up the fine tradition of chair making that the Woodys have come to represent in one short sentence, “We get the tree in the forest, and when we finish it up, it’s in the living room.” You can visit 7th gneration chair maker, Myron Woody at the Wood Shop at 3355 US 70 West in Marion, or visit them online at maxwoodychairshop.com.
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39 Author Anna Fariello has spent her career preserving and celebrating North Carolina’s history, art, and craft traditions. A scholar, curator, and writer, she has devoted decades to documenting the state’s creative heritage—from Cherokee artisans and Appalachian craftspeople to the communities that shaped North Carolina’s cultural identity. Her work bridges academic research and heartfelt storytelling, ensuring that the state’s history is not only studied but felt and remembered. You can find Anna Fariello’s books wherever you buy your books—ideally from a local bookseller who shares her love of North Carolina’s stories. Her book Craft and Community: John C. Campbell Folk School and the Crafts Revival has taken on renewed significance as the Folk School celebrates its 100th anniversary. In it, Fariello explores how the school became a cornerstone of Appalachian craft and cultural preservation, blending education, artistry, and community spirit. Through rich historical context and vivid storytelling, she captures the enduring mission of the Folk School—to connect people through creativity and keep traditional mountain crafts alive for generations to come. E E xplore a nationwide xplore a nationwide network of family-friendly network of family-friendly TRACK Trails including TRACK Trails including 8 around 8 around Wilkesboro Wilkesboro! ! Go on Adventures! Go on Adventures! Get FREE Prizes! Get FREE Prizes! Visit Visit kidsinparks.com kidsinparks.com to find TRACK Trails near you! to find TRACK Trails near you! Let ’ s go Hiking!
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Jesse Onekhena, DMD, MD Alex Krisko, DMD, MD Bishal Johal, DDS, MD PREFERRED PROVIDER FOR:
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42 Hickory Furniture Mart: Where Craftsmanship and Community Meet In Hickory, furniture isn’t just an industry—it’s the heartbeat of the Foothills, the thread that ties generations of craftsmen, designers, and dreamers together. And nowhere is that legacy more alive than at Hickory Furniture Mart. From its familiar façade along Highway 70 to the hum of creativity within, the Mart stands as both monument and marketplace—where artistry, family tradition, and Southern hospitality converge beneath one expansive roof. For more than sixty-five years, Hickory Furniture Mart has been the living center of American furniture craftsmanship. It’s not just a place to buy furniture; it’s where the region’s ingenuity takes shape—where hand-built tables meet sleek modern design, and where visitors can feel the soul of the Foothills in every showroom. Inside, dozens of galleries and factory outlets showcase the breadth of the industry: locally crafted heirloom pieces, world-class luxury brands, and the kind of workmanship that has long made Hickory a household name in home furnishings. But what truly defines the Mart is its people. Generations of families have worked here, from builders to designers to sales professionals who’ve turned service into an art form. Their relationships with customers stretch across decades and state lines. Many visitors plan annual trips to Hickory just to shop here, confident that they’ll find both quality and kindness. Every visit to the Mart feels like walking through a living story of the American home. One minute you’re exploring custom upholstery lines or solid-wood dining tables; the next, you’re chatting with a local designer about how to bring texture and personality
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43 into your space. Upstairs, the air carries that quiet hum of collaboration—samples spread across tables, swatches pinned to mood boards, and the occasional sound of laughter echoing through the hall. The Mart’s leadership has been instrumental in preserving and expanding Hickory’s reputation as a global furniture destination. Leroy Lail, who served as president and CEO for decades, was one of the driving forces behind that vision. His belief in the region’s craftsmen and manufacturers helped transform the Mart from a simple twice yearly wholesale center/market into a true cornerstone of the industry. Under his leadership, the Mart became a bridge—connecting local artisans to national and international audiences, and ensuring that Hickory’s craftsmanship would never fade from the world stage. Lail understood what so many in this community still live by: that quality is more than a selling point—it’s a promise. His influence continues to shape the Mart today, reflected in its enduring commitment to excellence and in the pride its tenants take in every piece that leaves the floor. A Word from Tracey Trimble, Executive Vice President and General Manager Tracey Trimble carries that same legacy forward with grace and vision. Her leadership reflects the deep respect she holds for the Mart’s history and the people who make it thrive.
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“This year -and actually this exact month- marks 20 years now that I have been working at the Mart. And every single time I walk into one of our local furniture factories, the sheer talent and phenomenal craftsmanship of our furniture makers never cease to completely amaze me. I love showing others our extraordinary industry and the dedication and passion that is proudly infused into every single piece of fine handcrafted furniture that is made here. We are so proud to present this furniture to the rest of the world throughout our expansive complex of furniture retailers, including custom order showrooms, factory direct outlets, and manufacturers’ galleries in any style and design you could ever imagine,” says Tracey Trimble, Executive Vice President and General Manager. “It has truly been a joy to meet so many interesting and wonderful people from around the world, who have traveled to Hickory specifically in search of the perfect furniture for their homes. We appreciate every single customer that has visited Hickory Furniture Mart over the years and supported our local furniture manufacturers and retailers through all of the best times as well as some of the most challenging times in our industry.”
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This is where the Mart’s magic really shines: in its ability to blend the personal with the practical, the heritage with the modern. Visitors can explore endless styles and finishes, custom-order to their exact vision, and still feel the warmth of small-town hospitality throughout the process. Each interaction reflects the values that built Hickory’s reputation in the first place—integrity, craftsmanship, and care. Customization remains one of the Mart’s most defining features. In an era of disposable design, this is where customers rediscover the joy of making something theirs. From choosing wood tones to hand-selecting fabrics, shoppers collaborate directly with experts who listen, advise, and help bring each vision to life. It’s this human connection—the steady presence of someone who truly knows the craft—that sets the Mart apart from any other shopping experience. Over the years, Hickory Furniture Mart has grown into something larger than even its founders could have imagined. It’s not just a shopping destination—it’s a touchstone of identity for the entire Foothills region. It’s where visitors from across the country come to understand why Hickory became synonymous with furniture. It’s where locals take pride in showing guests “our Mart,” knowing that its strength and beauty mirror our own. The Mart’s influence ripples throughout the community. It brings visitors who dine in our restaurants, stay in our hotels, and explore our mountain trails. It sustains local artisans and fuels a design ecosystem that reaches far beyond North Carolina. More than any single showroom, the Mart represents the continuation of a story that began generations ago—a story of craftsmanship, family, and resilience. For Foothills Digest, Hickory Furniture Mart embodies everything we love to celebrate: heritage with heart, artistry with purpose, and a sense of place that can’t be duplicated. In every polished table, every tailored sofa, every carefully chosen fabric, you can still feel the legacy that Leroy Lail and this community built— and the stewardship that Tracey Trimble continues with vision and care. Because at Hickory Furniture Mart, you don’t just buy furniture—you bring home a piece of Hickory itself. fine art framing design - installations- gallery 215a 1st Avenue SW Hickory NC 28602 wednesday thursday friday 10 - 5 fanjoylabrenz.com
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46 Built to Last The Hickory Tree and the Art of Timeless Design
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47 In Hickory, homes don’t just hold furniture — they hold legacy. You can tell the story of this town through its living rooms and dining tables, its sideboards and four- posters. Hickory is a place where furniture matters, and Meredith and JD Ross’s shop, The Hickory Tree, is proof that good craftsmanship never goes out of style. “When people walk into our store, they’re looking at pieces that are 5, 10, sometimes 30 years old — and still solid,” Meredith says. “You can buy new furniture today that’ll be done in five years, or you can buy something built 25 years ago that’ll still be around 25 years from now.” That’s the Hickory advantage. This town has been crafting heirlooms for generations, and it shows. Local families have filled their homes with hand-tied sofas, mahogany dining tables, and maple dressers made to last lifetimes. When those families downsize, redecorate, or move, those same pieces find new life through The Hickory Tree’s consignment system — a full-circle cycle of craftsmanship and community. A Store Built on Hickory’s Legacy A Store Built on Hickory’s Legacy When Meredith opened The Hickory Tree in 2009, she was taking a leap during a recession. “I was in real estate, and things hadn’t crashed yet, but they were starting to,” she says. “Still, the Hickory Record ran a story on us, and it just took off.” Sixteen years later, the store has grown from a one-woman show to a staff of ten — complete with a general manager, social media coordinator, furniture painters, and a loyal community of consignors and customers. What started as a small consignment shop has become one of Hickory’s most beloved gathering places
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Since 1990 2613 N Center St, Hickory (828) 323-8477 kellyandcompanysalon.com Use this QR code to book your appointment! If your hair’s not ready, you’re not ready. Let Kelly’s finish the look. for people who appreciate design, craftsmanship, and local history. “We’re lucky to be here,” Meredith says. “Other consignment stores in big cities have to import their inventory. We’re surrounded by people who have beautiful, well-made furniture — and by the companies that make it. We work with local manufacturers like Vanguard, Parker Southern, and Temple. Sometimes what we get isn’t even ‘after market’ — it’s before market. They’re clearing space for the next line, so we get these incredible, brand-new sample pieces.” A Curated Mix of Old and New A Curated Mix of Old and New Walk through The Hickory Tree and you’ll see rooms staged with designer precision — a perfect blend of eras and aesthetics. Sleek new upholstery sits comfortably beside carved antique sideboards; solid oak tables wear the patina of use like a badge of honor. “That’s intentional,” JD explains. “We want people to see how you can mix an antique table with modern chairs or pair a new sofa with a vintage lamp. Most people don’t live in a furniture showroom. They inherit a dining table or find a mid- century piece they love. We help them see how it all fits together.” The store’s layout feels like a design showroom — stylish, approachable, and ever-changing. “People tell us they follow our social media because it’s fun to see what’s new,” Meredith says. “We move things constantly. The floor looks different every week.” Sustainability Meets Storytelling Sustainability Meets Storytelling For the Rosses, selling consigned furniture isn’t just about aesthetics or affordability — it’s also about sustainability. “The
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resources that went into making these pieces have already been spent,” JD says. “If a table can last another ten years, that’s ten more years we’re honoring those resources.” And in a town where the furniture industry once defined the local economy, that kind of reuse carries deeper meaning. “You can’t even buy real mahogany furniture anymore,” Meredith says. “So when we get a solid mahogany table, that’s history. We want to make sure it keeps being used, not thrown away.” The Heart of a Community The Heart of a Community The Hickory Tree isn’t just a store — it’s a little ecosystem of creativity and care. It’s where families bring heirlooms after a move, where newlyweds furnish their first home, where locals refinish and repaint old pieces for fun. It’s where young employees learn design and business skills, mentored patiently by the Rosses, and where customers often become friends. “We’ve been through it all,” Meredith says, laughing. “Breakups with overzealous consignors, training young staff who grew up on screens, learning how to delegate — all of it. But our staff has heart. We’ve built something that feels like it matters.” And she’s right. In Hickory, where furniture once built the economy, The Hickory Tree is helping build something just as important — a renewed sense of pride in what we already have. As Meredith puts it: “It’s tough to live in Hickory and fill your house with Ikea. Around here, a house just looks better with Hickory furniture.”
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51 wood-fired pottery Artfully Crafted from North Carolina Clay Stillman Stillman Browning-Howe Browning-Howe stillmanbhpottery.com stillmanbhpottery.com Hannah Hannah Cupp Cupp hannahcupp.com hannahcupp.com
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Cool Before Cool Was Cool: The Lasting Craft of Troutman Chair Company
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53 When you walk into Troutman Chair Company, you don’t walk into a showroom or a slick corporate lobby. You walk into a tiny office lined with a circle of rocking chairs. There’s nothing else to do but sit—and when you do, you realize something is different. These chairs don’t just look like comfort; they are comfort. Within seconds, you can feel the balance, the weight, the rhythm that makes your whole body relax. “Troutman Chair started here in Troutman in 1924,” owner Jean Land told us as we rocked gently in that circle. “Mr. Murdoch started it, then the Browns bought it a year later, and they owned it until 1999 when we bought it.” She said it like it was a simple story, but a hundred years of handcraft is anything but simple. For generations, these chairs have been built right here in North Carolina—cut, bent, and sanded by hand—keeping alive the Southern tradition of sitting a spell and rocking a while. “Most people making chairs by hand now are doing it behind their house,” Jean said. “We’ve got a small plant, but we’re still making everything from scratch right here. There’s no conveyor system, no CNC machines— nothing’s mass-produced. We’re kind of an anomaly in this day and time.” She’s right. Walk through the factory and you’ll see workers cutting local oak, air-drying it, then kiln-drying it in a system powered entirely by scrap wood. The same wood that makes a chair also heats the plant. It’s a complete cycle—self-sustaining, intentional, and rooted in the values that started this place in 1924. Jean smiled when I mentioned the national push toward sustainability. “Right,” she said. “There’s a slow movement now—slow food, slow furniture—but we’ve been doing that all along. We were cool before cool was cool.” It’s a line that sums up Troutman Chair perfectly.
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The Chair a President Made Famous Among the many rockers in the showroom, one stands out by name: the Carolina Rocker, more familiarly known as the Kennedy Rocker. “This chair right here became known as the Kennedy Rocker when John F. Kennedy moved into the White House,” Jean told me, gently tapping the armrest. “He was sitting in one of these chairs as a senator in his doctor’s office and said it relieved his back. He asked if he could have one—and he did.” Kennedy’s doctor, Janet Travell, prescribed gentle rocking to ease his chronic back pain, and the rhythmic motion helped relax his muscles. The president took that chair everywhere—from the Oval Office to Air Force One—and the images of him rocking became part of American memory. His fame made the chair famous, and suddenly everyone wanted one. Jean says, “If you ever Google images of Kennedy, nine times out of ten, he’s sitting in that chair.” The Joy in the Making In the back of the factory, the mood is unmistakably bright. There’s laughter over the sound of sanders and saws, a kind of easy cheer that feels baked into the place. The people here don’t just make furniture — they enjoy making it. You can hear it in their voices, see it in the way they move. “Everything we make starts here,” Jean said. “Cut, sanded, fitted — by people who’ve been doing it for years.”
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55 Each worker has their rhythm, their own small dance with the wood. Some shape, some sand, some bend. They move like a team that’s worked together a long time — because they have. There’s no assembly line here, no mechanical pace to keep up with. Just the sound of hands and tools working in time, turning raw North Carolina oak into something that lasts. “You can feel it when you sit down,” Jean said. “That’s what makes the difference.”
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From Porchsitting to Planespotting Troutman rockers have traveled far beyond porches. If you’ve flown out of Charlotte Douglas International Airport, you’ve likely seen—or sat in—one. The airport first added rocking chairs in 1997 for a temporary exhibit called Porchsitting. Travelers loved them so much they stayed. Years later, Champ and Jean Land, then owners of Troutman Chair Company, sat in those airport chairs and decided they could do better. Champ called the airport and offered Troutman’s instead. Today, more than a hundred white Troutman rockers line the atrium and concourses, each stamped Troutman Chair Company on a stainless-steel brace. They’ve become as iconic to Charlotte as the skyline itself.
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57 The Science of Soothing When I asked Jean why people feel instantly calm in a Troutman rocker, her answer was simple and true. “It’s rhythm,” she said. “Your heart beats in one, your breath moves in one—rocking matches that pattern. It tells your nervous system, ‘you’re safe now.’ That’s why babies fall asleep when you rock them—and adults do too.” She paused, her chair creaking. “When you sit in a rocker, your body does what it already knows how to do—it settles.” She’s right. After a few minutes, conversation slows, breathing deepens, and your thoughts quiet down. It’s medicine without a prescription—just a little motion and time. A Living Legacy Back in the plant, rough-cut boards wait beside vintage machines still humming every morning. “That’s a 1935 Whitney Pointer,” Jean said proudly. “Cast iron, original GE motors—it planes the wood to the right thickness before the next step.” There’s rhythm here too—the buzz of blades, sawdust falling like soft snow. Workers move with quiet precision, turning North Carolina oak into heirlooms meant to last. “For the longest time,” Jean said, “I was taking people to the warehouse to sit in a raw chair. Finally, I made one for in here. Turned out pretty darn beautiful.” She was right—it did. The world may have moved toward fast furniture, but in Troutman, they still do things the slow way—the right way. Each chair is a link in a century of craft, comfort, and care. When you sit in a Troutman rocker, you’re not just taking a seat. You’re joining a story that began in a small North Carolina town in 1924—and is still rocking along, steady as ever.
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Building the Next Generation of Furniture Makers: Catawba Valley Furniture Academy Photography by Garrick Lane and Brett Bateman More than a decade ago, conversations began in the Catawba Valley that would change the direction of an industry. Leaders from competing companies came together, not to guard their secrets, but to plan for the future. What they created was the Catawba Valley Furniture Academy, a place where collaboration replaced competition and where a new generation of craftsmen and women could be trained. Today, the academy is thriving. It is not just a classroom but a fully functioning furniture plant, where students learn by doing. Every piece made on the floor—whether a sofa, ottoman, or chair—moves directly to the showroom, where it is sold to the public at a discount. The materials for this work are donated by area manufacturers, who recognized that their own future depends on skilled workers. Almost 95 percent of what the students use—frames, fabrics, springs, foam—comes from these partners. The academy’s curriculum is deliberately broad, covering the entire process of making furniture. Students begin with fundamentals, then progress to cutting, sewing, and upholstery. They learn both manual skills and modern automated techniques, gaining an understanding of how tradition and technology meet on the factory floor. By the time they complete the program, they have touched every stage of production. The program itself is structured like the industry it serves. There are both day and evening classes, organized in shifts much like a real plant. This design ensures that students are not only learning technical skills but also becoming comfortable with the rhythms and demands of manufacturing life.
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59 When the program launched in 2014, it was the first of its kind in the country. Two years later, the Alexander Furniture Academy opened its doors in Taylorsville, expanding the reach of this model. Since then, the academies have graduated hundreds of students, many of whom walked straight into jobs with local companies. The placement rate has remained remarkably high—nearly every graduate finds work. Still, the need is ongoing. The furniture industry remains one of the largest employers in the region, but its workforce is aging. Thousands of skilled craftspeople will retire in the coming years, leaving vacancies that must be filled if the industry is to remain strong. The academies are designed to answer that challenge, training a steady pipeline of workers ready to step in. As one administrator explained, the academies are special because they are community-driven. The companies that once competed most fiercely are now partners, sharing resources and knowledge to ensure the whole region prospers. “We started the furniture academy discussions back about 12 years ago, and that was getting these partners together,” said Gary Muller. “They’ve got this one-of-a- kind program that we built because of them.” That spirit of collaboration is woven into every aspect of the academy. It is not only a training center but also a symbol of what can be accomplished when rivals sit down at the same table for the good of the community. The academies’ reach has also extended into unexpected places. In recent years, Catawba Valley Community College partnered with the local correctional
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60 Full Page Advertisement $1500
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61 institute to bring the program to offender-students. During the day, while the Newton academy would otherwise sit quiet, men from Catawba Correctional Center arrive to learn woodworking, cutting, and upholstery. For them, the program provides not only employable skills but also the hope of steady work after release—a critical step in rebuilding lives and reducing recidivism. In this way, the academy is shaping futures both inside and outside its traditional student body. The impact reaches well beyond the classroom. Graduates are able to step directly into jobs that provide a reliable income and stability. Employers, in turn, gain access to workers who are already trained to their specifications. The result is a workforce that strengthens the local economy and keeps alive the region’s long legacy of craftsmanship. The future, of course, will bring its share of challenges. The furniture industry, like any other, rises and falls with economic cycles. But the foundation built here is strong. As Gary Mueller noted, “Our furniture academy is very important to the industry because we’re producing the workers that are needed to produce all the furniture that’s needed for all the customers across the country.” In the end, the Catawba Valley and Alexander Furniture Academies are more than training programs. They are bridges between generations— where the skills of the past meet the needs of the future, and where a community has chosen to invest in itself by building not only furniture, but lives.
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In the Foothills, furniture isn’t just manufactured — it’s made, piece by piece, by people who understand what wood, fabric, and finish can become in skilled hands. Every chair, every table, every soft edge of a sofa carries a trace of the person who built it. Fernie Ortego spends each day immersed in color and texture, developing new finishes that bring out the best in wood. “I create finishes, from basic color matches to complex multi-step systems,” Fernie explains. “It’s about making something beautiful — and when the customer is happy, that’s the proud moment.” What feels most human, Fernie adds, is “the interaction with the materials — that quiet connection between me and the work.” Steve Brooks, a veteran furniture designer, begins long before the sawdust flies. “We listen to what people want, study the market, sketch silhouettes, render colors, and then engineer every curve,” he says. After decades in the business, he still feels joy seeing an idea come to life. “When I watched a design function exactly as I’d imagined — an expanding table that really worked — that was special.” What most people don’t see, he says, is the teamwork. “Dozens of hands shape every piece before it reaches the floor.” Across town, Lydia Greene works in upholstery, guiding patterned fabric through a humming machine. “I stitch the covers for arms and cushions — the parts folks touch every day,” she says. “You’ve got to be exact. A crooked seam can throw off the whole piece.” Her proudest moments happen quietly. “I’ll see a sofa I sewed sitting pretty in a store window, and I’ll think, that’s mine.” Between stitches, she and her coworkers swap stories and recipes. “That’s what keeps it human. It’s family here.” And in the cutting room, Tony Ramirez starts the process that makes everyone else’s possible. “I cut the fabric that’ll become the sofa or chair,” he says. “Every inch matters — waste too much and you’ve cost the company, cut it wrong and you’ve cost a coworker their time.” For Tony, pride shows up in precision. “When everything fits together perfectly — the pattern lines up, the seams match — that’s when I know I’ve done my part.” Together, these voices tell the story of a region built on craftsmanship. The Foothills’ furniture industry is powered not just by machines, but by people who care — people who still find meaning in making something that lasts. Where Craft Meets Heart Where Craft Meets Heart
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T T he 8-Way he 8-Way hand ti hand ti e e Tying It Tying It Together: Together:
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66 Hidden beneath the fabric and cushions of a fine sofa lies a craft that separates heirloom furniture from disposable trends: the eight- way hand tie. It’s a process that takes time, strength, and a steady hand—qualities Adam Byrd has brought to his work at Vanguard Furniture for the past 13 years. “The main thing is, it’s a stronger seat,” Byrd explains, pulling twine across rows of coiled steel springs. “Other methods might be cheaper and faster, but they don’t last. Here, we give a lifetime warranty on the seat. You don’t see that from companies that don’t use the eight-way hand tie. If you buy a piece built this way, it’s something that could last a lifetime.” The method is named for the way each spring is secured—tied front-to-back, side- to-side, and diagonally in both directions— eight points of tension that work together to hold the springs steady. This prevents shifting, sagging, or squeaking, and it ensures comfort that endures through decades of daily use. “You tie your main ties, your side ties, and then the X ties,” Byrd says. “It all comes together to reinforce the springs so they stay exactly where they’re meant to be.” A Craft Worth Keeping Across the industry, this kind of craftsmanship is becoming rare. Machine-assisted methods are faster and far less demanding on workers’ bodies. The eight-way hand tie, by contrast, is labor-intensive, physically punishing, and difficult to master. “It takes longer and it’s hard to find people to do it anymore,” Byrd says. “You either have
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67 to train someone from scratch or send them to one of the college programs, like at CVCC. Even then, a lot of folks don’t stick with it. It’s tough on your hands, and not everyone wants to put their body through that.” For Andy Bray, CEO of Vanguard Furniture, that struggle to preserve skill is exactly what defines the company. “Craftsmanship doesn’t survive by accident,” he says. “It survives because people make a choice—to do things the right way, even when it’s harder.” That commitment runs deep at Vanguard, founded by Andy’s parents, John and Connie Bray, in 1969. From a single velvet chair made in a Hickory shop, the company has grown to employ more than 750 craftspeople across six facilities in North Carolina and Virginia. But its heartbeat remains local, powered by the same families who have shaped the region’s furniture industry for generations. Old Salem and MESDA Wednesday-Saturday 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Closed in January. Tickets and information at www.oldsalem.org History lives here Curious about what you've missed in previous issues? You can read all 28 of our back issues online at foothillsdigest.com foothillsdigest.com by clicking "READ" in the menu.
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“When you walk through the factory, you see people who’ve been here 20 or 30 years, and sometimes their kids are right beside them,” Andy says. “That’s what I love about this place. It’s not just work—it’s legacy.” Adam Byrd is part of that legacy. His father, Randy, has been with Vanguard for 16 years and is nearing retirement. His uncle, who prepares the seat backs and bottoms just before Adam’s step, has logged 15. Three men from one family, each committed to a tradition that keeps Vanguard distinct in a crowded industry. “For me, it’s the same process every day,” Adam says. “But that means I never question what I’m doing—and there’s value in that.” Andy sees that same dedication as the reason Vanguard’s furniture endures. “When someone like Adam ties a spring, he’s not just thinking about the seat,” Andy says. “He’s thinking about the person who’s going to live with that piece. There’s a kind of pride in that connection—an unspoken agreement that what we build here will hold up.” Rooted in Hickory Vanguard’s story could have gone elsewhere. Many furniture makers did. But when others took production overseas, the Brays stayed home. They invested in Hickory’s people, in its schools, and in the soil itself. Today, the company recycles more than 95 percent of its manufacturing byproducts and powers its factories with solar energy—because stewardship, Andy says, is part of the same responsibility as craftsmanship. “We’ve always believed that if you take care of your people and your place, your business will take care of itself,” he says. And so, inside the hum of the spring shop, the Byrds’ hands keep looping twine the same way their predecessors did decades ago. Each tie is a small act of care—a gesture of endurance in a fast- changing world. The eight-way hand tie is, at its heart, an insistence that what’s hidden matters just as much as what’s seen. At Vanguard, it’s also a reminder that craftsmanship, once tied down tight, can hold steady for generations.
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COSMETIC, IMPLANT AND COMPREHENSIVE DENTISTRY (828) 328-5581 221 13th Ave Pl NW, Hickory 94% of people agree that a person's smile is the first thing they notice.
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Full-Service Experience for Every Home At Southern Heritage Home, design has always been about more than furniture — it’s about helping people create beautiful, livable spaces that reflect who they are. With the opening of The Design Studio by Kathy Gordon Interiors, that mission has expanded into something truly comprehensive. “Over the last year, we’ve seen tremendous growth in clients coming in and saying, ‘I’m doing my entire home — I need help.’” says Kathy Gordon, CEO of Southern Heritage Home. “So we wanted to put that vision into fruition — a design studio where customers can make an appointment, sit down with a designer, and create a plan for their whole home.” From Vision to Reality A veteran ASID interior designer, Kathy came to Hickory seven years ago to manage the company’s stores. Three years ago, she and her husband purchased Southern Heritage Home and began transforming it. “When we bought it, I wanted to bring in higher-end, luxury lines — pieces you can customize galore,” she says. “I’ve always believed in blending on-trend design with a classic look that lasts.”
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Under her leadership, Southern Heritage Home now includes four distinct stores, each with its own niche: • Southern Style Fine Furniture – a first-line store offering medium to luxury custom options. • The Heritage Gallery – showcasing Amish and American-made craftsmanship with extensive finish and fabric choices. • The Heritage Outlet – where on-trend, affordable pieces can be purchased right off the floor, ideal for first homes, rentals, or guest spaces. • Hooker Factory Outlet – the nation’s only official Hooker Factory Outlet, featuring Hooker case goods, HF Custom upholstery, Bradington-Young leather, and Sunset West outdoor furnishings. Across all locations, Kathy proudly works with about 50 manufacturers, including 20 that are American-made, many right here in the Foothills — in Hickory, Taylorsville, and High Point. “Our mattresses are made just down the road in Taylorsville,” she says. “There’s a deep sense of pride in keeping that local connection.” Inside the Studio Inside the new Design Studio, clients find a creative hub filled with samples, color, and texture — a place where ideas take shape. “We start with a roadmap,” Kathy explains. “We’ll do your floor plan, so you can actually see where every piece goes. From there, we fill the room piece by piece, so it all makes sense together.”
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Clients are invited to sit down with the studio’s design and sales team to explore fabrics, finishes, and furniture in person. “Designers see things quickly,” she says. “But for most people, it takes longer to visualize. That’s why we do mood boards — so they can really see how everything will come together.” The Design Studio also offers a full library of fabric and wallpaper books from top lines like Kravet, Thibaut, Pindler, and Greenhouse Fabrics, along with area rugs, draperies, blinds, carpeting, tile, flooring, and semi- custom cabinetry. “If you can’t find it on the floor,” Kathy says, “we can find it here — something truly special.” The studio even handles contract design projects, from restaurants and lobbies to offices. Kathy recently completed work for the Gamekeeper restaurant in Boone, supplying custom bar stools and refinished chairs that fit the restaurant’s rustic elegance.
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Thoughtful, On-Trend, and Timeless For Kathy, great design is about more than aesthetics — it’s about creating ease and confidence for her clients. “Our job is to make the process joyful and take the stress off of them,” she says. “We help people understand the quality they’re buying. If you want to know the difference between a fifteen-hundred-dollar sofa and a five-thousand-dollar one, we’ll walk you through it so you can decide what’s right for you.” Wallpaper, she adds, is one of the biggest trends returning to homes in bold new ways. “It never really left — but now it’s exploding with rich, saturated colors and textures. We’re even seeing full mural walls again,” she says with a smile. Whether clients are building a new home, remodeling one room, or furnishing a lake house, Kathy’s goal is to offer everything they need — in one place, with one trusted team. “It’s full service,” she says simply. “When I say full service, I mean it.” That sense of full-service hospitality feels distinctly Southern — and distinctly Foothills. Kathy’s team understands that for most clients, design isn’t just about what fills a space, but how that space makes them feel when they walk in the door after a long day. It’s the light filtering through a linen shade at sunset, the sturdy comfort of a well-made chair, the soft hum of a room that finally feels complete. Every project that passes through The Design Studio reflects that belief: homes should be both beautiful and livable, elegant but grounded, modern but warm. “We want people to love where they live,” Kathy says. “If it’s a mountain lodge, a downtown loft, or a lake house — it should all feel like them.” And that’s why she’s so committed to pairing timeless craftsmanship with personalized guidance. The process isn’t rushed; it’s curated, collaborative, and deeply local — honoring the Foothills’ legacy of artistry while making sure each home tells its own unique story. With her background, her vision, and her passion for design, Kathy Gordon has created something rare: a space where inspiration meets expertise — and where every home can become a true reflection of the people who live there.
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The Breath of the Beast: Inside High Point Market If the furniture industry in North Carolina is a beast, the High Point Market is its breath— steady, powerful, and on schedule. Twice a year, every April and October, the beast exhales across 13 downtown blocks, and the whole ecosystem stirs: designers chart the season’s look, retailers place bets on what homes will crave, and makers—from factories to small studios—feel the pull to bring their best. What happens here sets the rhythm for the year in design in a big way. Tammy Covington, President and CEO of the High Point Market Authority (HPMA), puts the scope in plain terms: “The biannual High Point Market welcomes approximately 75,000 registered attendees from across the U.S. and around the globe each April and October. Most trade shows today are held in convention centers. But High Point Market showrooms span 13 city blocks, encompassing over 180 buildings in downtown High Point, with nearly 2,000 exhibitors showcasing their furnishings and home decor products for retail buyers and interior designers. Coordinating ground transportation, hospitality, entertainment, educational programs, wayfinding, and even more behind the scenes is the job of the High Point Market Authority. Our organizational expertise combined with the breadth of offerings here makes Market unlike any other tradeshow—our entire city is the show and it’s a truly immersive experience.” That last line is the key: the entire city is the show. This is not a pop-up inside a cavernous hall; it’s a living streetscape where permanent showrooms, historic buildings, and new spaces fold into one sprawling, walkable marketplace. You don’t just attend High Point— you move through it. Shuttle routes, park-and-ride lots, neighborhood guides, and on-the- ground ambassadors knit the whole thing together so buyers and designers can glide from a lighting launch to an upholstery debut to a panel on sustainability without missing a beat.
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75 A Story of Ambition—and Endurance The Market’s story starts with a simple bet more than a century ago: if North Carolina could build a world- class furniture industry, then High Point could host the gathering that fueled it. Rail lines, hardwood forests, and a growing workforce laid the groundwork, but it took ambition to make it a destination. Early 20th- century manufacturers pooled resources to show their wares together, and with the opening of a towering exposition building downtown, High Point declared itself more than a factory town—it was the stage where the industry met itself. Buyers arrived by train, orders were written by hand, and a culture took root: twice a year, this is where decisions got made. Decades brought headwinds and reinventions. The Great Depression thinned the ranks, but Market held on. During World War II, the buildings served national needs; afterward, pent-up demand for home furnishings exploded, and High Point surged. As the American home changed—from postwar optimism to mid-century modern, from suburban expansion to open-plan living—the Market kept pace, expanding showrooms and evolving its cadence to the spring and fall rhythm that now defines it. Globalization shifted manufacturing patterns and challenged old assumptions, but High Point adapted by doubling down on what only it can do: convene the full stack of the industry—designers, makers, brands, retailers, logistics pros, and storytellers—under one city’s sky. Product introductions, merchandising strategies, brand identities, and the next season’s palette are not abstract ideas here; they’re tactile, testable, and negotiated in real time. That’s why veterans talk about “Market legs” (you’ll rack up the steps) and “Market ears” (you’ll hear what’s coming before it hits a catalog). Covington frames that continuity succinctly: “High Point Market is the heartbeat of the home furnishings industry. For 116 years, it’s the trade-only event where people involved in the furnishings industry come together to advance business. It’s where ideas are exchanged, trends take shape, deals are made, and relationships are built. Any furniture item in your home was likely first shown at High Point Market. It’s all here—and it’s energizing, inspiring, and fun.”
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How a City Becomes a Compass Walk a few blocks and you’ll see why the Market sets the tone for the year. A new silhouette shows up in three separate showrooms. A saturated green sneaks from accent chair to wallcovering. A handwoven texture on a dining seat suddenly appears in lighting cords and cabinet fronts. Trends aren’t handed down from a tower—they’re discovered, echoed, and refined across hundreds of rooms until a throughline emerges. Buyers compare notes over coffee; designers snap details for clients; brand reps read the room and adjust on the fly. By week’s end, a season’s narrative is clear. Behind that fluid experience is an infrastructure few notice but everyone depends on: transit and wayfinding; educational programming that turns a showroom crawl into a masterclass; hospitality that keeps the city humming; safety and accessibility so the entire market is navigable. HPMA’s job is orchestration, ensuring the many moving parts—from buses to badges to pop-up events—feel seamless, even at the scale of tens of thousands of people. North Carolina at the Center For all its global reach, the Market is deeply North Carolinian. Western mills and upholstery shops, Piedmont casegoods factories, coastal artisans and craftspeople—products designed and made here are not just represented; they’re celebrated. That regional backbone matters economically and culturally. Twice a year, hotels fill, restaurants buzz, caterers, drivers, stage crews, photographers, and printers all book out. The halo effect touches livelihoods far beyond the showroom floor. FOLK ART FESTIVAL COMING SOON NoCo AD COMING SOON
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77 Covington is direct about that impact: “The two High Point Market trade events held each year generate approximately $6.7 billion in state and local economic impact annually, which includes $202 million in tax revenue. Furnishings designed and produced by North Carolina-based manufacturing companies, many of which are located in the western part of the state, along with the products made by craftspeople from the mountains to the piedmont and coast, are well represented in showrooms here. Local companies that serve the Market community additionally depend on the business twice a year for their livelihood.” Why It Still Matters In an age when products can be rendered photorealistically and ordered with a tap, why does a physical market still command this kind of attention? Because furniture is about scale, touch, proportion, comfort, and craft. You can’t know a chair’s sit from a JPG. You can’t feel a hand-rubbed finish or sense how a sectional commands a room without standing in front of it. Relationships—the trust that leads to risk-taking and innovation— are built face-to-face. High Point Market remains the place where those decisions happen at speed and at scale. And then, just as suddenly as it arrives, the breath recedes. Trucks load out, lights come down, a few flags flutter a day longer than they should. But the industry doesn’t go quiet; it inhales—designers sketch, manufacturers tool up, retailers reset floors—preparing for the next exhale. The creature that is North Carolina furniture keeps moving, and twice a year in High Point, you can feel it breathe.
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78 Mitchell Gold is, without question, the most recognizable name in North Carolina furniture. For more than three decades, his influence has reached from Taylorsville’s factory floors to the showrooms of High Point and beyond. He built something extraordinary here—a company that redefined comfort, modernized manufacturing, and treated its people with uncommon dignity. Now, after a lifetime spent creating and leading, Gold is turning toward a new chapter. He’s stepping away from day-to-day operations and preparing to move fully into the world of consulting—helping other leaders build the kind of organizations that last because they care. We sat down with him in his Hickory home to talk about furniture in the Foothills, the future of the industry, and the legacy of a man who helped shape it. The walls of his living room tell their own story. Bright, expressive paintings by outsider artists fill the space, each one chosen for its honesty rather than polish. Against that backdrop sits a deep orange chair he’s owned for more than fifteen years—simple, beautiful, and inviting. The room feels lived in and intentional, much like the man himself. Gold has built a life, and a company, around the idea that good design isn’t about perfection—it’s about comfort, integrity, and soul. “We created a mission statement within the first six months,” he says, “and the first sentence was ‘Comfort is paramount.’ Then we defined what comfort was. To us, comfort was the way something sat, but also the way something looked, the way something felt. And the price of something had to be comfortable for somebody.” That belief—humble, radical, and ahead of its time—would come to define both the company and the culture he built. Building Differently When Mitchell Gold and Bob Williams began their company in 1989, they could have gone anywhere. “Even though I had worked for Lane Furniture in Hickory,” Gold said, “I knew about Mississippi manufacturing, I knew about Mexico manufacturing, I knew about Southern California manufacturing.” Looking back, Gold reflects on just how rare that partnership was. “I was so lucky to find a partner with the talents and kindness Bob had,” he said. “Our synergy was off the charts.” Talking Furniture with Mitchell Gold
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79 By chance, an old industry contact connected them to a family-owned factory in Taylorsville called Watson’s of Taylorsville. “The father had passed away,” he recalled, “and the mother and three children were running it, but they weren’t really knowledgeable about how to run and build a business. They were running at about fifty percent capacity, and you can’t run a factory profitably at fifty percent capacity.” Instead of building a new plant from scratch, Gold and Williams bought into that small, struggling operation and began shaping it into something different. “We liked the people very, very much—we all got along—so we created a partnership,” he said. Within months, his relentless drive and network began to change everything. “I sold a lot of it right away,” he said. “We sold 5,000 dining chairs before we actually started production… and 800 tables before we started production.” Those early numbers sound impossible now, but his reputation for follow-through convinced retailers to pay early, giving the new company enough breathing room to deliver on its promises. Gold understood instinctively what the market lacked. “They weren’t really talking about style and comfort— and nobody was,” he said. “Even the high-end companies talked about style, but it was styling that to Bob and me was kind of—I don’t want to say pretentious—but it was precious, and it wasn’t inviting-looking.” Their approach was the opposite: approachable, warm, human. “We wanted things to be more comfortable- looking,” he said. “Part of what we did was look at what the industry was doing and say: what were the weaknesses, and how could we jump in and do something different?” They found opportunity everywhere. Most companies didn’t start building until after fabric was ordered, dragging delivery out to twelve, fourteen, sometimes sixteen weeks. Gold and Williams decided to do it differently. “We’d basically offer 100 fabrics,” he said, “and we would inventory everything that we said was in our line so that when somebody placed an order, we had the materials to start producing right away.” That one decision revolutionized their workflow—and their reputation. “We started shipping in four weeks when everybody else was shipping in fourteen,” he said. “That was very appealing to a lot of customers.” That was the pattern from the beginning: find what the industry accepted as normal, and quietly make it better. Sometimes it meant faster service. Sometimes it meant better materials. And sometimes, it meant doing the right thing simply because it was right. “I was reading the New York Times on a plane,” Gold remembered. “There was an article about how the ozone
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layer was being destroyed. On the inside page it said one of the biggest abusers of the environment in America was the furniture manufacturing business—the foam that went into sofas emitted CFCs into the air.” He called Bob from a payphone as soon as he landed. “I said, ‘We cannot go into this business. It’s destroying the environment.’ And he said, ‘This is unbelievable. This morning I saw a manufacturer of this new foam that didn’t emit CFCs into the air—it was water-based.’” They struck a deal to use it immediately, becoming one of the first furniture makers in America to do so. “That also led us to think about: what about our packaging, what about the materials we use, what about the waste we produce? That was something the industry wasn’t doing.” It was the beginning of a pattern that would define the brand for decades—care for the planet, for the product, and most of all, for the people who made it. Culture of Care From the outside, Mitchell Gold + Bob Williams looked like a furniture company. From the inside, it felt like something closer to a community. That was by design. “We just wanted to treat people as we wanted to be treated,” Gold said, “and we were willing to make less money in order to do that.” In 1989, very few factories in the region were air-conditioned. “Well, in 1989,” he said, “there was virtually no air conditioning in furniture factories.” But he and Bob Williams installed it anyway, believing that comfort shouldn’t stop with the customer. The same thinking drove every policy they put in place—real coffee in break rooms instead of vending sludge, annual visits from a mammogram van, and one of the first on-site medical clinics in the industry. “Having one of the first medical clinics on staff was a really great thing to do for employees,” he said. “Great health benefits—all of those things. Those values, I still hold them.” What grew from that was loyalty—the kind that can’t be bought. Employees stayed for years, sometimes decades, because they felt seen. “Loyalty is a two-way street,” Gold said. “Your people will stay when they’re treated well.” Many of those who started on the floor went on to become leaders across the industry, taking his lessons about compassion and accountability with them. That sense of care ran deeper than benefits and policies—it was personal. When he and Bob first started their company, they didn’t hide who they were, but they also didn’t broadcast it. In a small Southern town in the late 1980s, being a gay couple in business together wasn’t something most people understood. “It wasn’t until the second year, when we finally had a little time to take a vacation,” he remembered, “that people in the factory started to realize we were a couple.”
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He smiled when he told the story of what happened next. “We had two much older ladies who were part of the family who loved us, and we loved them. Aunt May said to everybody, ‘Don’t anybody say anything bad about my boys. They’re good boys. They’re taking care of us.’” And they were. Within two years, the factory had air conditioning, fresh coffee, and a workplace culture built on trust. “Then they found out we were gay,” Gold said, “and it was like, ‘Oh, this gay thing isn’t so bad.’” Respect, it turned out, went both ways. Years later, when the company was acquired and a consultant toured the plant, he asked Gold and Williams to describe what made it special. “He said, ‘What’s one word you would use to describe what you have going on here?’” Gold recalled. “We thought for a minute, and I said, ‘Care.’ He looked at us and said, ‘You know what word I would use? Respect. I’ve never walked through a factory where the owners smile at everybody, say hello, know their names. People came up and talked to you. People respect you—but you respect them.’” That, Gold says, is the secret to everything. “That’s what makes a great place to work and to be.” The Future When Mitchell Gold talks about the future, he’s less interested in production schedules than in people. These days, his attention is on leadership itself—how companies listen, how they nurture talent, and how they create workplaces where people can thrive. His consulting business, aptly named Hindsight Forward, grew out of those lessons. “I call it Hindsight Forward,” he said, “because, in hindsight, I’m much smarter. I know the things I did wrong, but I also know the things I did right.” Gold says his best years as a CEO were the ones when he learned to listen. “When I was younger, I’d walk into a meeting and fill the room,” he said. “But I came to realize that the best thing you can do is start by asking, ‘What do you think?’ and really mean it.” He tells a story about a leadership talk that still shapes how he advises executives. “A woman said CEOs can suck the life out of a room,” he recalled. “She said if the CEO starts a meeting by sharing all his ideas, it shuts everyone else down. But if he starts by saying, ‘Let’s go around the room and talk about your ideas,’ and actually listens—then he gets the best thinking in the company.” That principle became the heart of his work. “The people are what make a company,” he said. “Loyalty is a two-way street. Your people will stay when they’re treated well.” He carries that same philosophy into his advice for cities and regions: invest in people, not just projects. “When we talk about growing this area, we have to think about who we’re growing it for,” he said. “You don’t build great communities by throwing tax breaks at outsiders. You build them by helping the people already here reach their potential.” To Gold, the most valuable resource North Carolina has isn’t land or capital—it’s the people who show up every day to work, learn, and lead. “That’s where the answers are,” he said. “They’re on the floor, in the meetings, in the community. The good leaders know that.” And though his role has shifted from building furniture to building leaders, the philosophy is the same: respect people, listen deeply, and always move forward. “You don’t get to redo the past,” he said with a smile. “But you do get to use it.”
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On Darker Days When the Taylorsville factory closed, it felt like the air went out of a room the whole region had been standing in. The news came suddenly—employees arriving for work were met with a sign on the gate, informing them that the company had shut down. For many, it was more than a job lost; it was a way of life upended. Generations of families had worked there, and the factory’s heartbeat had long echoed through the surrounding community. Even for someone who has lived through market swings, political headwinds, and private-equity pressures, Mitchell Gold admits that moment nearly broke him. “It was devastating,” he said quietly. “I was in shock. I was angry. I was sad. I was heartbroken—for the people, for the community, for everything we built.” He pauses often when talking about it. There’s still tenderness behind the composure. “I don’t live there,” he said. “I don’t live in that anger, but I don’t pretend it didn’t hurt.” The factory he helped shape wasn’t just a workplace; it was, for many, a second home. And when private equity entered the picture, the culture that had made it special began to fray. “When you sell to private equity, you give up control,” he said. “They’re not bad people, but they have a different objective. Their job is to make money for investors, and that’s not always the same as taking care of people.” He doesn’t shy away from his share of responsibility. “I made the decision to sell because I was thinking about succession,” he said. “I thought it was time for the next generation to take it and run. But I learned—painfully—that not everyone runs the same way you do.” Even now, he says he still gets messages from former employees. “They write to tell me where they’re working now, or to say thank you,” he said. “Those messages mean a lot to me. Those people were family.” But if the closure left scars, it also revealed something hopeful. When the factory reopened under new leadership, a surprising number of people came back. “Darrell Webster is doing a great job,” Gold said. “He’s walking the floor every day. He’s listening. He’s the kind of leader who understands that people make the business, not the other way around.” He sees that as a turning point—not just for the company, but for the Foothills furniture community. “If we can build this back the right way,” he said, “we can make something better than before. That’s my hope.” Gold doesn’t minimize the hurt, but he refuses to let it define the story. “I don’t want to be the bitter guy who says, ‘They ruined my company,’” he said. “I want to be the guy who says, ‘We did something extraordinary. It changed lives. And the fact that people still care about it means we did something right.’” Activism, Faith, and Legacy Mitchell Gold has never separated his business life from his moral one. Long before “corporate values” became a buzzword, Mitchell Gold was already building his company around them—health care, childcare, inclusivity, and dignity. And long before “activism” became a brand strategy, he was confronting the ways religion was used to wound. “In the ’90s, I began to see how religion was being misused—as a shield for racism and bigotry,” he said. “There are so many good people who just don’t know the harm that does.”
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That realization led him to create Faith in America, an organization dedicated to exposing the pain caused by religious condemnation of LGBTQ people. “People change when they have knowledge,” he said. “When they understand they’re hurting others, they change.” His advocacy reached all the way to the White House, where his book Crisis: 40 Stories Revealing the Personal, Social, and Religious Pain and Trauma of Growing Up Gay in America found an unexpected audience. “Barack Obama read it, and Joe Biden read it,” Gold said. “It was one of the best things I ever did—to move the needle and change lives.” He still smiles when he recalls Biden’s Meet the Press moment, when the then–Vice President publicly affirmed marriage equality for the first time. “I’d given a copy of Crisis to Jill Biden, and later to Joe himself,” Gold said. “He told me, ‘My wife’s reading it, and she says it’s important.’ Two weeks later, he’s on TV saying, ‘I can’t lie anymore. I just can’t tell a 15-year-old kid that they don’t deserve the same love as anyone else.’” For Gold, the story always comes back to the personal. “A woman here in town came to see me once,” he said. “She thought her son was gay and didn’t know what to do. I told her, ‘Leave this book on the coffee table.’ She did—and it helped them talk. That’s what makes me rich.” He smiles when he says the word—rich—as if redefining it. For him, wealth isn’t measured in profit sheets, but in changed minds and better lives. “That’s what I’ll take with me,” he said. Comfort as Promise The afternoon light in Mitchell Gold’s living room falls softly across the fabrics—velvets, linens, old wood— and lands on a deep orange chair he’s had for years. It’s the kind of piece that quietly commands the room, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s lived in. “Originally it was in a guest bedroom,” he said, resting a hand on its arm. “Then I moved and thought, you know what? I love that chair. I’m bringing it into my living room.” That small decision, like so many in his career, says everything about the man who turned comfort into a calling. The chair is beautiful, but more than that, it’s kind. It invites you to stay. For decades, Gold has built spaces where people could sit and breathe—factories with air conditioning, offices where dignity mattered, homes filled with furniture that looked good but felt right. He’s designed a life on the simple belief that comfort isn’t a luxury—it’s a human right. Even now, reflecting on the losses and triumphs, he keeps his eyes forward. “When bad things happen, I just take a deep breath and get calm and figure out what I have to do,” he said. “I just can’t let anything bottle up.” The lesson is as sturdy as one of his sofas: you start again, you make something better, you make it with care. And so the story ends where it began—in a small North Carolina town, surrounded by color and texture and possibility. Mitchell Gold still sits at the center of it all, reminding the region, and perhaps himself, what real comfort means: a promise to sit, to work, to belong.
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ALISON KRAUSS ALISON KRAUSS & UNION STATION UNION STATION MOLLY TUTTLE MOLLY TUTTLE SISTER SADIE SISTER SADIE JAKE JAKE SHIMABUKURO SHIMABUKURO HOGSLOP STRING HOGSLOP STRING BAND BAND MICHAEL CLEVELAND MICHAEL CLEVELAND & FLAMEKEEPER FLAMEKEEPER STEEP CANYON RANGERS STEEP CANYON RANGERS THE CREEKERS THE CREEKERS PETER ROWAN PETER ROWAN & THE THE WALLS OF TIME BAND WALLS OF TIME BAND THE JERRY THE JERRY DOUGLAS BAND DOUGLAS BAND KETCH SECOR KETCH SECOR SAM BUSH SAM BUSH OLD CROW OLD CROW MEDICINE SHOW MEDICINE SHOW BLACKBERRY BLACKBERRY SMOKE SMOKE C H A R L E S C H A R L E S W E S L E Y W E S L E Y G O D W I N G O D W I N featuring JERRY DOUGLAS April 23-26, 2026 WILKESBORO, NC
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86 If you’re handy — or want to be — you couldn’t ask for a better place to refinish furniture than right here in the Foothills. Because we’ve always built high-quality furniture, we’ve also always owned it. Families across this region filled their homes with solid wood pieces made by neighbors at Hickory Chair, Fairfield, Century, Bernhardt, Broyhill, and dozens more. And when good furniture stays in the same community for generations, it ends up somewhere remarkable: our thrift stores, estate sales, consignment shops, and Facebook listings. A Treasure Trove in Plain Sight Our secondhand stores aren’t full of particle-board throwaways — they’re packed with oak dressers, maple sideboards, mahogany dining sets, and frames built to last. Estate sales and Facebook Marketplace offer heirloom-quality pieces at prices you can’t touch anywhere else. For a creative person, it’s a gold mine. Where to Look • Facebook Marketplace – Search within 25–50 miles using words like “solid wood,” “dovetail,” “vintage,” or brand names. Set alerts and be ready to pick up fast. • Thrift Stores & Habitat ReStores – Hickory, Lenoir, Morganton, and surrounding towns are rich with Goodwill, Salvation Army, Hospice boutiques, and Habitat stores that regularly get local, well-made furniture. • Consignment Shops – More curated and a bit higher priced, but still excellent value. • Estate Sales & Auctions – The best place to find untouched sets from the 1940s–1980s. Go early for selection, late for discounts. How to Spot a Keeper • Look for Solid Wood – Heavy, with consistent wood grain. Veneer over plywood can be fine; avoid anything over pressed particle board. • Dovetail Joints – A sure sign of craftsmanship. • Sturdy Frame – Sit, wiggle, press. It should feel solid. • Fixable Flaws – Scratches, worn finish, and loose joints are easy. Rotted wood, mold, or major water damage are not. • Good Lines – Classic proportions and simple shapes refinish beautifully. Second Chances Second Chances & & Solid Wood: Solid Wood: The Art of Refinishing in the Foothills Staining or Natural Finish • Strip or sand off old varnish. • Sand in stages: 80, 120, then 220-grit. • Wipe clean; apply stain and seal with polyurethane, shellac, or wax. Painting • Clean thoroughly. • Lightly sand or use a bonding primer. • Use chalk, mineral, or enamel paint. • Seal for durability.
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Upholstery & Chair Caning Springs, foam, and webbing are replaceable with basic tools. Classes are available locally through community colleges, Catawba Valley Furniture Academy, Silver River Chair Caning and the John C. Campbell Folk School. More Than a Makeover Refinishing furniture in the Foothills isn’t just a pastime — it’s part of who we are. When you breathe new life into a $40 dresser from a thrift store in Valdese, you’re restoring something a neighbor’s grandfather might have built and honoring the legacy of craftsmanship that shaped this region. Each project is a small act of preservation — a reminder that the quality and care built into our furniture generations ago still matter today. And the best part? Every time you strip, sand, or stain, you’re adding your own layer to that story. You’re not just rescuing furniture — you’re keeping our shared history alive, one piece at a time. In a region built by makers, the spirit of craft still lingers in the wood grain and dovetail joints, waiting for new hands to carry it forward. The raw materials are here. The history is here. All it needs now is you. WPCC.EDU (828) 448-3500 1001 BURKEMONT AVE, MORGANTON Achieve Success! Experience the pioneering spirit that awaits you.
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American Home by Bob Timberlake
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89 North Carolina artist, designer, and craftsman Bob Timberlake has once again brought his love of American design to life through a brand- new furniture line—the American Home Collection, created in partnership with Archbold Furniture and Carolina Custom Leather. Known for his deep appreciation of craftsmanship and tradition, Timberlake has built a career on honoring the beauty of handmade work. This collection carries that legacy forward, celebrating the enduring strength and artistry of American furniture. The American Home Collection embodies Timberlake’s lifelong belief that “there’s no substitute for American craftsmanship.” Every piece is made in the United States, primarily from solid cherry wood sourced from sustainable forests. Each table, bed, and cabinet is hand-finished to reveal the natural character of the grain, and every curve and edge is shaped with care. The designs are distinctly Timberlake—simple, functional, and inspired by the timeless beauty of the American home. From the start, the partnership with Archbold Furniture was a natural fit. Both Timberlake and Archbold share a commitment to quality, authenticity, and family-rooted craftsmanship. Brian Mossor of Archbold captured the spirit of this collaboration perfectly: “Working with Bob Timberlake on his new American Home Collection has been an inspiring experience. Bob has a true passion for authenticity and a keen eye for detail in furniture design. Every piece reflects his deep appreciation for American Craftsmanship, Solid Wood and Timeless Design!”
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90 Ad Coming Soon
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91 The collection spans bedroom suites, dining sets, occasional pieces, and home-office furniture, all unified by a quiet elegance that reflects Timberlake’s artistry. The finishes range from warm natural cherry to rich painted tones, allowing each customer to find something that feels like home. Even the smallest details—drawer pulls, dovetail joints, and beveled edges—speak to the level of care invested in every item. Buyers can see and purchase the American Home Collection at the Bob Timberlake Gallery in Lexington, where the artist’s paintings and designs come together in one immersive experience. The line is also available through select retailers across the country. Bob Timberlake is shown sitting on the very first piece of furniture he ever made—a Pennsylvania Dutch dowry chest he built and painted as a high school student. At just 14 or 15 years old, he spent roughly 350 hours crafting the chest, which he entered into the Ford Motor Company’s national Industrial Arts Award competition. The project earned him a top prize, $100 in winnings, and a trip to Dearborn, Michigan, where he accepted the award in person. That experience, he has often said, planted the seed for a lifelong devotion to craftsmanship and design. With this new release, Timberlake has reestablished himself as one of the most trusted names in American design. His American Home Collection is more than a furniture line— it’s a tribute to the values that built this region: craftsmanship, honesty, and a love for home that never goes out of style. As Timberlake looks ahead, the American Home Collection feels like both a return and a renewal—a continuation of the ideals that have guided his work for more than half a century. In every board of cherry and every brush of finish, there’s a sense of place, purpose, and pride. It reminds us that beauty and utility can coexist, that the hands of American craftsmen still shape the soul of our homes, and that true design—like Timberlake’s own legacy—is meant to endure.
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The Rhythm of Rest: Why Rocking Chairs Feel Like Home Evening settles slow in the Foothills. The light folds itself between ridges, soft as flannel, and the porch boards sigh beneath a pair of bare feet. Out here, the world quiets to the hum of crickets and the whisper of leaves, and the steady creak—forward, back—of a rocker finding its rhythm. The motion feels older than memory. It’s the same rhythm that lulled you as a baby, the one your grandmother trusted while she watched summer storms roll across the hills. Forward, back. The wood flexes and groans just enough to remind you that you’re part of something living. The chair breathes with you—a duet of heartbeat and hinge. In that small, steady movement, the body lets go of what the day took. Shoulders drop. Breath deepens. Time loosens its grip. The air cools against your arms, carrying honeysuckle and old tobacco. Thunder rolls somewhere beyond the next ridge. Everything—wind, earth, even your pulse—seems to rock in time. It’s no wonder the rocking chair became a fixture in mountain life. Before air-conditioning, before screens and schedules, this was how folks cooled down and settled in. Babies were rocked to sleep, and so were the grown-ups. The porch was the family’s living room, and that rhythmic motion—forward, back—wasn’t just comfort. It was conversation. It was prayer. Modern science now tells us what mountain people have always known: there’s medicine in that motion. Rocking stimulates the inner ear, calming the nervous system. It slows the heart, lowers blood pressure, and quiets anxiety. Hospitals and nursing homes use rocking chairs for the same reason every grandmother did—to soothe restless bodies and ease troubled minds. Ask a scientist why rocking feels so good, and they’ll talk about the vestibular system—the tiny canals in our inner ears that sense movement and balance. Rocking activates the body’s parasympathetic response—the “rest and digest” mode that slows heart rate and releases endorphins. It reduces pain, improves circulation, and helps people sleep. The body knows what the spirit has known all along: rhythm heals. Of course, folks in the Foothills didn’t need studies to prove it. They just knew the day went down easier when you could rock it away. The motion wasn’t invented here, but it found its truest home on these porches. In the 1800s, North Carolina chairmakers—many of them self-taught craftsmen working out of barns and sheds—refined designs handed down from Shakers and Scots-Irish settlers. Hickory, beech, and oak were steamed and bent into curves that echoed the roll of the Blue Ridge. Ladder-backs, slat-backs, and “Carolina Rockers” became household staples. By the turn of the century, factories in Lenoir and Hickory were shipping those chairs across the country. Sears catalogs called them “Carolina Comfort Rockers,” known for their durability and
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“gentle gliding motion.” Families from Maine to California sat in chairs that began as logs hauled out of Catawba County hills. Even as factories grew and the chairs spread far beyond the mountains, their purpose stayed the same. A rocker wasn’t about status or speed—it was about presence. It was the slow lane embodied in wood and motion. On porches across the Foothills, rocking became ritual: a way to listen to rain, court sweethearts, shell peas, tell stories, or simply think in peace. Each one carries a little soul of its own. The rails polish under generations of hands, the seat curves to fit the memory of those who came before. If you listen closely, you can almost hear their laughter and the soft hush of their prayers woven into the grain. The old folks say a porch remembers, and a rocker never forgets. Maybe that’s why, even now, we still reach for a rocker when life gets too loud. It’s an old language of comfort—forward, back—spoken in wood grain and breath, steady as the mountains themselves.
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94 The fall light settles gently across the yard in Granite Falls, glinting through amber leaves before coming to rest on a handmade table. Around it sit Chad and his wife, Joanna, their baby Henry in her arms, and Chad’s parents, Paula and Mark. The air smells faintly of leaves and wood — a familiar scent for a family who’s spent their lives shaping both. It’s late morning, that soft, golden hour between work and rest, when everything seems touched with a bit of grace. The table at the center of it all is one Chad built for his wedding — sturdy, beautiful, meant to last. It carries the fingerprints of generations who’ve spent their lives turning raw material into something that holds. This is a family of makers. Mark’s parents bought Cox Furniture in 1973, a modest Hickory company known for its finely made upholstered pieces and careful craftsmanship. They grew it through decades of change, keeping their focus on quality and their roots in local soil. When Mark’s father passed away in 1992, Mark and Paula stepped in to carry the business forward. “The furniture business was really good to our family,” Paula says. “We made every frame ourselves — cutting, sewing, upholstering. We had wonderful people working with us, and we were proud of what we built.” Cox Furniture weathered the ups and downs that defined the industry — recessions, globalization, shifting tastes. When the department stores folded during the 2008 crash, the Romeos leaned on what had always set them apart: design, integrity, and the kind of craftsmanship that never goes out of style. “We stayed small and true to our look,” Mark says. “That’s what kept us going.” They sold the business in 2022, closing their chapter in Hickory’s furniture story. But in a quiet shop nearby in Granite Falls, the story kept on building. A Different Kind of Workshop Chad grew up surrounded by furniture, though he never thought it would be his path. “I always liked building things,” he says, “but I didn’t think it’d be furniture. After college I just needed a job, so I went to work for my dad in the machine room — and that’s when it clicked. I loved taking a block of wood and turning it into something cool.” The Builder’s Line The Builder’s Line
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96 He stayed close to the work — learning machines, understanding design, watching how ideas turn into something you can touch. After a few layoffs and detours, he started his own business, trading the structure of a factory floor for the freedom of a small shop filled with natural light and possibility. “Once I started my own thing, I realized it’s never really work you can walk away from,” Chad says. “You think about it all the time. You wake up in the middle of the night trying to solve a problem. But I like it that way. I get to make what I want to make, not what someone tells me to.” His shop sits just a short drive from his parents’ home in Granite Falls — quiet but alive, the smell of sawdust mixing with the hum of a planer and the calm rhythm of creation. The Creative Thread The Romeo family’s story is one of craft and inheritance. Mark’s parents built with precision and grit; Paula’s side added artistry — her grandfather made grandfather clocks and rocking horses by hand, and her grandmother painted delicate patterns onto fine china. “Each of us got one of her pieces,” Paula says. “And my dad gave Chad the little hammer he used when he was a boy. Now Chad’s passed it on to Henry.” That hammer, now held in tiny hands, carries nearly a century of family story — a through-line of creativity that isn’t about business anymore, but about continuity. About care. About the belief that making something with love is its own kind of art. The Table as Testament As the morning light drifts toward noon, the family laughs around Chad’s wedding table. Its surface glows — not polished perfection, but something truer, burnished by use and by touch. Hickory may be where their story began, but here in Granite Falls, surrounded by the quiet hum of their own lives, the legacy continues. In that moment, the Romeos are part of something larger than themselves — a tradition of artistry that connects home and heart, work and wonder. Because here in the foothills, a good table isn’t just a place to gather. It’s proof that beauty can be built, generation after generation, and that some things — love, craft, and legacy — are meant to last.
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97 Where History Comes to Life! Celebrate our nation’s upcoming 250th anniversary at the Catawba County Museum of History. The new America 250 Exhibit highlights the people, stories, and moments that shaped our country—all inside the beautifully preserved 1924 historic courthouse. Open Tuesday–Friday from 9 AM to 4 PM.
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98 ROOTED IN HICKORY When Harley Ferguson Shuford, Sr. founded Century Furniture in 1947, he made a promise: every product would be something employees and customers could be proud of. Three generations later, that guiding principle still defines the company. CEO Alex Shuford carries both the privilege and the weight of continuing his grandfather’s vision. Running a multi-generational family company, he says, means honoring those who came before while delivering results for those who work there now. That sense of stewardship stretches far beyond the boardroom. The Shufords live where they work, walking the same sidewalks and shopping in the same stores as the people who craft their furniture. That proximity keeps responsibility personal. When much of the furniture industry moved overseas, Century stayed home. The company chose instead to re-engineer how it built furniture—turning its wood operation into something closer to a custom cabinet shop. Shuford often repeats a simple truth that’s become a quiet motto within the company: “We live where we work, and our people depend on us.” And behind his humor is a deeper philosophy about resilience. As he likes to say with a wry smile, “Evolution is not necessary. Survival is not required.” THE SPIRIT OF CRAFTSMANSHIP Inside Century’s workshops, precision hums through the air like a steady heartbeat. Many artisans have spent decades at their benches, their skills shaped by years of repetition, refinement, and shared pride. Shuford credits them with creating what he calls a “culture of caring and excellence.” Their dedication fuels the brand’s celebrated customization program, which offers thousands of fabrics, trims, and finishes, and supports collaborations with designers like Thomas O’Brien, Charlotte Moss, and Bunny Williams. Humility, he says, has always anchored the family’s leadership philosophy. No one is above sweeping the showroom floor or moving a product when needed. That attitude—combined with a fierce work ethic—has built a company where the average employee tenure is measured in decades. CENTURY: A Legacy That Endures For more than seventy-five years, Century Furniture has defined American craftsmanship. From its Hickory roots to its global reach, the Shuford family’s legacy continues to shape what it means to build furniture with integrity, imagination, and heart.
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99 SUSTAINABILITY AS A WAY OF LIFE Long before sustainability became a buzzword, Century Furniture treated it as second nature. The Shufords’ approach to stewardship has always been local: because they live and play where they manufacture, caring for the environment feels personal. Their version of sustainability starts with durability. Every piece is built to last, meant to be repaired, refinished, and passed down rather than discarded. Shuford believes that longevity itself is the most sustainable act. Over the years, Century’s approach to paying suppliers fairly and rewarding responsible practices has helped form an entire network of environmentally conscious companies—proof that ethics and excellence can coexist beautifully. LOOKING FORWARD Today, Century stands at the center of the Rock House Farm Family of Brands, which includes other North Carolina manufacturers like Highland House, Hickory Chair, Hancock & Moore, Jessica Charles, Maitland-Smith, and Cabot Wrenn. Together, they represent a powerful ecosystem of American craft. Shuford is energized by what’s ahead. He sees a growing fascination among young people with the trades—a hunger to make tangible things in an increasingly digital world. He envisions connecting that new generation of makers with advanced woodworking tools and production technologies that will let them create furniture more efficiently, beautifully, and sustainably than ever before. He’s also inspired by the connection between good design and human well-being. The quality of our surroundings, he notes, directly affects how we feel and function. As research continues to explore those links, Shuford expects to see a rise in purposeful, health-centered design—a movement that will only elevate the industry he loves. When he looks to the future, he hopes this moment will be remembered as a foundation: a period of renewal that strengthened the family of brands, nurtured its people, and ensured that the company remained vibrant and evolving. LEGACY, CRAFT, AND COMMUNITY Century Furniture remains what it has always been—a Hickory story of craftsmanship, loyalty, and faith in the people who build things that last. Its future, like its past, is carved from dedication, vision, and the steady hands of those who still believe in doing the work right here at home. Or, as Shuford often reminds his team: “Stay humble. Work harder than your competitor. Never read your own press clippings.”
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In the Foothills, homes are more than walls — they’re reflections of who we are. For designer Emily Conn, good design isn’t about trends but about the story a space tells. “A sense of place is not just about style,” she says. “It’s about story — the details that reflect who you are and where you’ve been.” A Lenoir native and Appalachian State graduate, Emily studied design in France, worked in Chicago, and ultimately returned to Hickory. As owner of Lucky By Design Studio and ASID Carolinas President for 2024–2025, she helps clients weave together personal history and Appalachian heritage. “People are drawn to homes that resonate,” she says. “We can modernize what’s needed, but if we erase what makes a home unique, we lose its soul.” In a region famed for furniture-making, Emily treasures locally crafted pieces. “Everything holds energy,” she says. “When you walk through a factory here, you see how many hands touch each piece — that care becomes part of your home.” Inspired by the mountains’ natural palette, she layers art, wood, and textiles, often from local makers. “We live in a region overflowing with talent. When their work lives in your home, it strengthens our shared story.” Her advice: balance heirlooms and nostalgia with intention. “Nothing against Cracker Barrel,” she laughs, “but too much memory can drown the magic. Let each piece shine.” Emily’s process begins with listening. “Color isn’t just about hue; it’s about emotion. Finding the right tone makes a space yours.” For newcomers, she adds, “When you buy local, you’re not just decorating — you’re joining the community.” “Luck isn’t something you stumble into,” she says of her studio’s name. “It’s something you create through intention and openness.” In every home she designs, Emily helps people craft that kind of luck — rooted in story, community, and belonging. Designing a Sense of Place Sense of Place with Emily Conn
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102 Blowing Rock Blowing Rock Furniture Gallery Furniture Gallery A LANDMARK WITH A STORY A LANDMARK WITH A STORY There’s a stretch of Highway 321 where the road straightens and the mountains rise all at once—ridgelines layered like folded paper, the kind of view that makes you ease off the gas without thinking. As the climb begins, the scenery opens on both sides: flashes of pasture, long-distance horizons, and those sudden glimpses of majesty that belong only to this corner of North Carolina. By the time you crest into Blowing Rock, the town feels like a reward. And right at the entrance, impossible to miss, the huge log cabin of Blowing Rock Furniture Gallery stands waiting—a landmark that tells travelers they’ve arrived somewhere meant to be savored. But what’s inside that cabin is more than a showroom. The building first opened as a Broyhill Home Furnishings store, a natural extension of the region’s legacy. When the corporate parent shut it down in early 2014, it felt like a chapter closing. Four months later, a local management group stepped in, restocked the 20,000-square-foot space, and reopened with a new name and new independence. The second turning point came in 2018, when Rhonda and her husband, Bill, took ownership. What was supposed to be a short-term commitment quickly became something deeper. Rhonda had worked in furniture from 1990 to 2001 before becoming a gerontologist. When her first grandchild was born, she and Bill moved back to North Carolina to be closer to family—and found themselves here, unexpectedly and wholeheartedly.
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When Bill passed away from pancreatic cancer in 2021, everything could have shifted again. Instead, Rhonda, her son Jacob, and daughter-in- law Darby chose to keep going. Today, the Gallery is truly a family business—two generations shaping its future, and a third growing up on the showroom floor. It is one of the few woman-owned and family- owned furniture destinations in the region. “In this industry, there’s comfort in knowing the succession plan is solid,” Rhonda says. What makes the store remarkable isn’t just its size or its view—it’s the way it reflects the evolving story of furniture in western North Carolina. The High Country once drew people into factories; now it draws them into spaces where craftsmanship is still honored, even if the setting has shifted from production floor to gallery. Inside, you’ll find American- made lines like Craftmaster, Bassett, Hooker, Bradington-Young, and Fireside Lodge—companies that still build with skill, and in many cases, still build nearby. The Gallery’s trucks don’t just receive shipments; they drive down the mountain to pick them up. The hands making the furniture and the hands selling it are rarely separated by more than a few counties. During the pandemic, that closeness became a lifeline. Lead times stretched, materials stalled, and uncertainty became the norm. While some stores overpromised, Rhonda refused. She told customers the truth—even when it was hard. Honesty, she says, is what got them through. People remembered. The Gallery is known for its mountain-lodge warmth, but it’s not defined by it. Rustic pieces are there if you want them—raw slabs, live edge, lodge textures—but so are clean-lined modern collections, traditional upholstery, outdoor lines, lighting, and full mattress galleries. The floor changes constantly; a person who visits on Thursday will not see the same store on Saturday. It’s part retail, part reinvention. Walk through the showroom and you’ll notice the floors aren’t perfectly level. A long-ago flood left them slightly uneven, and instead of hiding it, Rhonda embraces it. “It makes it feel like a cabin,” she says. It also makes it feel like the region itself—weathered, imperfect, and still standing. In January 2024, Rhonda expanded again, opening Skyland Furniture and Mattress in Boone’s old Babcock building. If the Gallery is curated and custom-focused, Skyland is more immediate—what-you-see- is-what-you-get, designed for people who need a bed today, not six weeks from now. Together, the two stores anchor furniture retail across the High Country, serving locals, second-home owners, students, and families who simply want a space that feels like their own. Blowing Rock Furniture Gallery is more than a business; it’s a continuation. A woman who expected to be here for six months is still here, surrounded by community. And a family that never planned to be in the spotlight has become part of the ongoing story of furniture in North Carolina.
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105 A look at Richard Eller's Well-Crafted In the rolling foothills of North Carolina, the furniture industry didn’t just build tables and chairs— it built lives, towns, and entire identities. No one has captured that story with more care and depth than historian Richard Eller, whose landmark work Well-Crafted: The History of Furniture Manufacturing in Western North Carolina traces the rise, triumph, and transformation of one of our state’s proudest legacies. A professor, researcher, and lifelong student of local history, Richard Eller has spent decades chronicling the stories that shaped the Catawba Valley and beyond. His work reveals the human pulse inside industrial progress—the men and women who turned raw lumber into livelihoods, the families whose futures rose and fell with factory whistles, and the communities whose very character was carved from wood. In Well-Crafted, he doesn’t just record history—he restores it, plank by plank, until the reader can almost smell the sawdust and hear the rhythmic hum of production floors alive with purpose. Spanning more than six hundred pages, Well-Crafted is both sweeping and intimate. Eller leads readers from the earliest days of hand-hewn craft through the golden age of American manufacturing, to the challenges of globalization and the rebirth of local craftsmanship. He combines meticulous research with the voices of workers, owners, and townspeople, painting a full portrait of a region where furniture wasn’t simply made—it was lived. The result is a narrative that feels as personal as it is historical, as tactile as the oak and maple that define the work itself. For those of us who live and work in the Foothills, Eller’s storytelling strikes a familiar chord. It honors the ingenuity and resilience of the people who gave our region its rhythm, who taught the world what North Carolina craftsmanship means. His writing is not nostalgia—it’s a reckoning, a reminder that every joint and dovetail tells a story about endurance, adaptation, and pride of place. We are honored and excited to present a chapter of this landmark book in these pages. Within it, readers will find the details that make our shared history come alive—the shop floors, the families, the innovations that defined an era and continue to inspire the next generation of makers. It’s a story of work, artistry, and belonging, told by one of the region’s finest historians. Richard Eller’s Well-Crafted stands as both a love letter and a record, ensuring that the story of Western North Carolina’s furniture industry—its grit, grace, and genius—will endure for generations to come. Buy it wherever you buy your books, but we always favor local bookstores.
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107 Chapter 10 - A Buxom Mountain Queen The dawn of the twentieth century brought with it a regional collective consciousness. Independently, economic interests in the towns of North Carolina’s foothills began to align behind the idea of creating their own culture, united around the effort to craft furniture for a national market. Each did it in different ways. Statesville reinvested its capital to spawn a variety of makers. Old Fort was first to the bar but sold out to Morganton where tragedy temporarily overwhelmed rebuilding efforts. Drexel took the opposite approach, building the factory first, then welcoming a city to surround and support it. Lenoir fumbled with a community-backed factory that resisted efforts to find a managerial structure that worked. Hickory hummed with twin factories on the eastern end of town. Undoubtedly, each subsequent enterprise learned from the mistakes and successes of those that went before. No matter how they did it, the region recognized a sound idea and put it into practice, each in its own way as circumstances allowed. Together, they formed a nucleus of production, strangely stronger even with competition because of the unifying identity they were forging together. The years of groping in the darkness for some kind of economic distinction had paid off. These communities found their niche. Recognizing it, they would challenge all other regions of the country for dominance, both inside the Tarheel state and beyond. Western North Carolina was emerging as a furniture-making powerhouse, even if the output required producing items other than the traditional bedroom suite. “A charter is issued for the Kent Furniture and Coffin Co., of Lenoir. Capital, $50,000 authorized; $20,000 subscribed; by A.A. Kent, A.V. Miller and others,” read the news in April of 1905. Six months later, the business was in operation. With approximately 40 hands, the shop was described as “one of the busiest places in our town,” orders loaded up on boxcars for shipment to Chicago. In fact, the Windy City came to Lenoir. “Mr. Andrew McAnse, of Chicago has been in Lenoir for a few days looking over the furniture industries of the town. Mr. McAnse is of the firm of McAnse, Duger & Co., who handles the output of the Kent Furniture Co. and the Lenoir Table Works. He would like to contract for the output of at least two more factories at this place if he can.” The activity of the region began to attract outside attention as men like McAnse recognized the profitability of presenting Lenoir’s output nationwide. Almost immediately, Kent Furniture needed more space. They “found it necessary to build an addition to the already large storage room at the factory.” But the goods were not staying warehoused long. Orders poured in. San Francisco sought nine boxcar loads, while St. Louis ordered eight. Furniture from Kent was also going to New York City, thanks to reps like Andrew McAnse. In the early days of the industry, the term ‘furniture’ denoted a wide range of items made for consumers but not all of them for the home. When Dr. A.A. Kent built his 1905 company, explicitly in the name was a unique wood product, later handled by undertakers, coffins. Until the professionalization of the funeral industry, coffins were available in furniture stores. One might pick one out, much like selecting a chest of drawers, although for a much different purpose. As the six- sided box that defined a “coffin” gave way to caskets, furniture manufacturers eventually discontinued their production, but in the early days, anything that could be made of wood and sold to the public, was. With growth came the usual ups and downs for furniture companies of the era. Kent Furniture lured James Booth away from his position as foreman at Imperial Furniture in Statesville for a job as superintendent. Regrettably, industrial accidents became part of the landscape for furniture factories. One notice read, “A young man named Smith who works at
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the Kent Furniture and Coffin factory had his hand badly cut by a cove saw yesterday.” If the accident proved fatal, Kent had an appliance for Smith’s final rest. Even with the mishaps, it didn’t take long for new enterprises to join the growing number of firms. One came in the form of another furniture company by the same entrepreneur, this one a partnership called the Kent-Coffey Manufacturing Company. A.A. Kent was a prominent doctor in Lenoir who harbored intentions of getting into the business world. He had invested in Lenoir’s 1889 factory before becoming the first to publicly pull his support from the venture by selling his stock. Now with his own independent concern going so successfully, he decided to go into partnership with Finley H. Coffey. Incorporating the company to the tune of $32,500, with the doctor claiming 50 shares while Coffey bought 100. The other 170 shares went to investors in the community. The times were right for getting into business in the New South. Two major changes aided profitability. It took the remainder of the 19th century for the region to rebound after the Civil War, but by 1900, the agricultural market rebounded, adding a new vitality to communities all over the former Confederacy. Also, a new source of power offered a cheaper, more streamlined alternative to steam in running the machinery. Local power companies (often using dynamos to generate electricity) were consolidating under James B. Duke’s Southern Power Company to offer electricity for industrial outlets, as well as homes. Not long after Southern Power came to the Catawba Valley, companies like Hickory Furniture eagerly switched from steam power to keep plants operating on schedule. With newly created companies also came casualties. Looking for space to locate their factory, the Kent-Coffey Furniture Company found it at the old Gwyn Veneer plant. Within a year of incorporation, the company started by R.L. Gwyn closed. He had begun with subscribed capital of $20,000 as the Gwyn Veneer and Panel Company, making strips applicable to finished pieces that needed dressing up into fancier finished products. Gwyn recruited John W. Coffey (no direct relationship to Finley of the Kent-Coffey partnership), originally from Lenoir but living in Raleigh, to return to “take charge.” Nearing its first anniversary of operation, the plant sold out to the Kent interests. … No sooner had the good doctor and his partner cranked up their furniture factory than three brothers came out of the mountains north of Lenoir with the same idea to start turning wood into wardrobes. William C. and his brother
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Eller History F.P., along with F.P’s son Joe C. Moore “bought 12 or 15 acres of land just north of Lower Creek trestle on the C&NW Ry., about one mile from the centre of town and will build a furniture factory on the site at once.” The arrival of the Moore family signified that making furniture had become a popular pursuit. Quickly, a number of other investors joined the party. H. Richard, J.P. Coffey, H.T. Newland, and several others pooled their resources with the Moore brothers to amass the capital requirement of $25,000. Building began immediately. By May of 1906 the company was in production, employing “about 100 hands, and its plant is equipped with the latest improved machinery.” In terms of personnel, the Moore operation became the biggest in Lenoir. That equipment churned out “case work and tables” and, on one particularly horrific occasion, death. “This morning about 11 o’clock while Fred Pearson was running a moulder in the shops of the Moore Furniture Company he was caught in the belt and hurled to death in an instant. His right side was torn open, his jaw broken and his head badly crushed.” What made the accident more tragic was the fact that Fred Pearson was 11 years old. The employment of children in factories was still common and, according to some, necessary. Just as children had been used to assist the running of family farms, so too were they deemed important to the continued financial interest of each family. Like the textile industry, workers came to the factories at a tender age. But unlike the cotton mills, the recruits were exclusively boys. Just as with Drexel and every other industrial employer, it took time to weigh how absolutely necessary child labor was to the process. Slowdowns in 1907 that kept workers idle in some places were not evident in Lenoir. Moore Furniture announced orders “that will keep them running until February 15th or longer. No signs of panic in transactions of that kind,” assured the editor of the Lenoir Topic about the nation’s financial crisis. But Joe, the next generation of the Moore’s in furniture, decided to leave the company in favor of another furniture start up, Lenoir Chair. By the summer of 1908, Joe Moore’s new enterprise was “one of the busiest places in this community.” Along with T.J. Stone, his new partner, Lenoir Chair, was “turning out 350 to 400 chairs per day.” With “46 hands employed,” the company shipped out a variety of “medium and high-grade chairs and box seat dining chairs,” most ready for use, but not all. “Some of these are finished complete and some are shipped ‘white,’ meaning before being varnished.” The finished chairs, in “a variety of styles,” came “in a number of popular shades, including weathered, Mission and Flemish oak.” Within a year, the Lenoir Chair plant doubled its capacity, making up to 100 dozen chairs per day. By the time the company sought a charter for incorporation, another Moore brother, F.P., migrated to the operation. Additionally, the company began manufacturing tables “and other lines of household furniture” to go along with its chairs. “The authorized capital is $50,000 with $15,000 paid in,” read the notice for Lenoir’s fastest-growing factory. To more effectively distribute the capital at hand and grow the business, the Moores and Stone recruited W.A. Shell away from the Bank of Lenoir, where he had been a bookkeeper for the last 15 years, to take on the role of secretary and treasurer for the company. Filling orders became a real challenge for the company, including one instance where “a (box)car load order having been recently cancelled because they could not fill it quick enough for their customer,” was immediately sold elsewhere. In addition to W.A. Shell as their top money counter, the Moore Brothers and T.J. Stone became experts at finding talent and bringing it to their operation. Soon, the standout furniture superstar in Statesville also found it advantageous to bring his services to Lenoir Chair. E.M. Purdy arrived just in time to attend the Chicago furniture exhibition, ostensibly hawking the outfit’s output but more likely he was surveilling the competition for talent and design ideas. As a supremely accomplished operator in his own right, E.M Purdy’s paired with T.J. Stone to create quite a powerhouse in furniture production. …. If ‘restless’ described the artistry of T.J. Stone, the word also adequately reflects the entrepreneurship of Joe Moore. At Lenoir Chair, Moore, the son of the F.P. Moore, and nephew of W.C. Moore, took charge of the rough end, where he brought wood into the shop for refining, but the job was apparently not enough to keep him interested. Less than two years after Lenoir Chair went into operation, Joe Moore sold all his shares in the previous company so he and partner T.J. (also called Joe by his friends) Stone could set up the Moore-Stone Chair Company. The site he located for his new operation was just across the tracks from the original company that Joe Moore and his elders started four years earlier. He planned to make the same thing at his new company that he had made in all his previous endeavors, chairs. He also remained ambitious, expanding his capacity to produce up to 100 dozen per day. It seems Joe Moore proved himself to be adept at raising a furniture factory from the ground up but regularly regarded the ongoing operation a chore, a daily drudgery that failed to capture his imagination.
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The loss of Joe Moore at Lenoir Chair did not hurt the company. One estimate pictured the chairs made by the company “placed side by side in a single row, to reach more than fifty miles. Fifty miles of chairs.” The output of approximately 200 per day soared to over 180,000 per year. To reach such a capacity, the company expanded its facilities by fifty percent. The retail price range for a chair at the factory stood between $1.50 and $4.50, and “orders poured in in a way that made the general manager, Mr. W.A. Shell (promoted from Secretary/Treasurer) smile broadly when he acknowledged the prosperity of the company.” One of the reasons Shell could grin was the addition of almost 14,000 square feet of floor space for the next 50 miles of chairs. Unfortunately, many of those chairs would end up as charred ruins. On a Saturday night in November of 1910, the night watchman was off duty. In his place was a new man, who checked the factory around 11:00 pm. Noticing nothing of suspicion, he went to get a drink of water. When he returned, flames had engulfed the wood frame building. He raised the alarm, but by the time firefighters arrived, it was too late. Superintendent of the factory, Bert Stone (T.J. Stone’s brother) was at the depot cafe when he “recognized the alarm whistle and ran out on his way to the factory. As he started down the steps, he fell and broke his leg,” rendering his effort of relief to the company moot. The estimated loss for Lenoir Chair came to between $70,000 and $80,000 with about only one-third of that amount covered by insurance. The single saving grace of the catastrophe was the containment of damage. Flames did not spread to the Moore Furniture plant across the C&NRR tracks. The Raleigh Times called the loss of the chair factory “a heavy blow to Lenoir and vicinity. Eighty-nine men have been thrown out of employment.” Like Drexel before it and many other factories destroyed by fire, Lenoir Chair vowed a rebirth. Within a month, President W.A. Shell announced that new machinery was on the way. He planned to have the operation back on its feet, producing chairs within three months. He also hoped to have more men than ever in his employ, figuring that as many as 110 would be on the payroll by February of 1911. During the fateful month after the fire, the cause of the blaze came to light. It was arson. “Two boys were tried here yesterday afternoon before Squire J.A. Bush, charged with burning the Lenoir Chair Company’s plant, which was destroyed by fire.” Luther Bowman and Richard Shumake, two white juveniles, were found guilty of the crime, as well as robbing a hardware store the same night. A watchman at the Kent-Coffey plant testified that the boys “stayed about an hour” at his location then left. Forty-five minutes later, he saw the flames. Others told how they noticed three boys running from the flames as everyone else ran toward them. “It was given on the authority of at least one witness that one of the boys said he was going to leave this town and with an oath said he intended to leave some ashes behind when he left.” At the time of the arrest, guns stolen from the hardware store were in the perpetrators’ possession. In court, the two pled guilty and were sentenced to two years in state prison. The identity of the third assailant was never discovered. Upon rebuilding, Lenoir Chair chose to incorporate. The size of the its new incarnation totaled $20,000, with another $15,000 promised. The listing of investors was also interesting. In addition to W.A. Shell, the rebuilt Lenoir Chair included some familiar furniture names. George F. Harper, son of the Major who already had Harper Furniture in operation, was a stockholder. So was his brother- in-law, John Mathias Bernhardt. By that point, both were known for their extensive furniture experience as a part of Lenoir’s first furniture outing, which had occurred over twenty years earlier. S.S. Jennings, Bert Stone (the superintendent who broke his leg at the fire), cotton mill investor J.L. Nelson, J.H. Beall, and C.L. Robbins constituted the rest of the ownership team. For Bert Stone, it was an especially auspicious time to celebrate. He reveled in two beginnings: the rebirth of his company and his upcoming nuptials. Just after Christmas he married “the efficient stenographer of the Lenoir Chair Company,” Miss Ethel Kerley. Woodworking in Lenoir had become a trendy endeavor. Under the banner of “New Enterprises,” the Weekly News boasted, “Lenoir can show more new manufacturing enterprises projected within the last six or twelve months than any town of its size in the country.” Touting Kent Furniture and Coffin Company, Gwyn Vaneers and Panel Works, Lenoir Vaneering, Builders’s Supply Co., Coffey Wagon Manufacturing Co., Moore Furniture Manufacturing Co., and even the Conley Bobbin and Handle Works were all examples of the growth Lenoir had seen in the first decade of the twentieth century. Those enterprises, coupled with the already established
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Eller History Harper Furniture and the ongoing business of J.M. Bernhardt made Lenoir ideal for even further expansion. Newspaper editor J.C. Martin hit the nail on the head when he asserted, “the raw materials are right here among us and the money paid for them is kept at home instead of being sent away as in the case of cotton mills.” His observation of the homegrown furniture industry explained the reason such an effort had been undertaken by a growing number of New South men willing to put their capital at risk. He added, “the manufacturing industry is just in its infancy however in our town and if the town as a municipality will keep pace with the other features, within five years Lenoir will have a population of five thousand.” It would take another twenty-five years before the town actually reached that milestone, but the increase was impressive, nonetheless. By the time of the 1910 census, the emerging furniture city saw a rise of over 150% in population. Given the activity in Lenoir, it took no time at all for the town to gain attention statewide. The Raleigh News and Observer sent a journalist to investigate all the action. In his printed reply, Raleigh’s reporter described the town as a “beautiful and buxom ‘Mountain Queen’.” Harper Furniture, the vestige of Lenoir’s first furniture manufacturing attempt now loomed as a grandfather to all the new companies popping up. The Raleigh paper’s inventory of the number of woodworking-related plants stood at 14, which included lumber yards, box makers, and veneer operations. The creators of Lenoir’s original factory had finally proven their point. Even if the first company did not survive as originally planned, a climate for making furniture profitably had indeed shown its viability. With a variety of personalities trying their hand at producing furnishings for the home, the lure beckoned even more. They refused to let the hazard of fire (a constant threat), rain (a future threat) and fluctuations of business deter them from turning a fledgling industry into a powerhouse that would define the region in the future, and make them money, now. Just down the road, Hickory was already blessed with two stable companies, each making items for different rooms in the home. But something was missing. Town leaders sensed they were coming in third in the region’s furniture making race, behind a flurry of firms in Lenoir and Burke County’s dominating enterprise of Drexel. They vowed to catch up. Business leaders got together and amassed their capital, offering it to anyone who would come to Hickory and establish a successful chair factory. Word soon spread beyond the hills of western North Carolina. George Bailey heard about the proposition and inquired. His Surry Chair Company could use a boost. Located to the north in Elkin, not far from the Virginia border, the promise of up to $200,000 in capital was too much to keep him anchored. He willingly relocated. The Hickory Democrat characterized George Bailey as “a man of push and enterprise, and was quick to jump at the opportunity to move the plant to Hickory.” The attraction was mutual. According to the Democrat, “Hickory gobbled up the fine Elkin enterprise like a wild turkey a fat, red chestnut.” Business was not bad in Elkin. Bailey brought to Hickory with him a number of outstanding orders for the “old Surry Chair Co.,” to demonstrate demand for his work and assure his new neighbors that they had made a sound choice. Competition for the deal had been extreme, with Hickory investors dangling their offer for “some time” before Bailey came through with a viable plan for a favorable partnership. The business solidified the area’s interest as then new firm was rightfully named Hickory Chair Manufacturing Company. It was almost inevitable where the new company would be located. Given the cozy proximity of Hickory’s existing furniture factories, the new chair maker would easily fit right next to them. The railroad’s sidetrack could now serve a third operation, and the “six grades of chair” slated to be manufactured by Hickory Chair complemented the output of both Martin and Hickory Furniture. Reports differed on the actual capitalization of the Hickory Chair Manufacturing Company, the amount somewhere between $100,000 and $150,000. Bailey’s reborn factory kept all options open. In addition to chairs, Hickory’s newest factory retained authorization to also manufacture “wagons, buggies, etc.” suggesting it might seek to compete with Piedmont Wagon. However, Hickory Chair stuck to its namesake product after George Bailey arrived. Within a year of startup, advertisements seeking oak for their machines signaled a focus on furniture. … Competition began to heat up, between towns, between companies. Collectively, the factories turning out crafted wood products in the western part of North Carolina were gaining notice and sales. With Drexel leading the way, the assemblage of factories demonstrated the furniture industry was viable and profitable enough to sustain itself into the future. Burke, Caldwell, Catawba, Iredell, and McDowell Counties showed viability, able to compete with High Point in the central part of North Carolina as a center for the burgeoning furniture industry. There would be challenges to the claim, but at last, the foothills economy had found its purpose.
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112 On the Table : Chef Sullivan’s Appalachian Kitchen Chef Benjamin Sullivan has deep roots in the mountains of North Carolina—his family has called these hills home since the early 1700s. With over twenty years of experience in professional kitchens, Sullivan blends Appalachian tradition with modern culinary finesse. A graduate of the inaugural Johnson & Wales Charlotte campus and now the Director of Culinary Operations for Cranford Hospitality, Ben brings both heritage and innovation to the table. In this series, Chef Sullivan shares seasonal recipes that celebrate the flavors of western North Carolina with refined techniques and thoughtful updates. These aren’t just meals—they’re heirlooms passed down through generations, reimagined for today’s kitchens. As he puts it, “Sitting around a dinner table with recipes like these allows us not only to connect with our friends and family today, but with those generations that came before us who built what we have.” Burgoo Ingredients: • 1 oz Lard (Bacon Fat, Oil) • 3 C Onion, diced 1/4" • 2 C Carrot ½” slice • 1 C Celery, diced 1/4" • 1 ½ Qt Yukon potato, peeled, diced 1" • 1.5 Qt Stock • 1 Can Tomatoes,whole, crushed 28oz • 5 oz Tomato Based BBQ Sauce (Lexington) • 1 oz Worcestershire • 1 oz Texas Pete • 1 oz Fish Sauce (optional) • 1 Tbsp Dry Mustard • 1 Tbsp Paprika, hot • 1# Chicken, pulled Chef Ben Sullivan Pimento Cheese Ingredients: • 12oz Cheese Blend, whatever you have in the fridge • 8 oz Cream Cheese, softened • 4 oz Mayo • 1/4 C Piquillo Pepper, diced • 1 oz Pickle juice or Pepperoncini Juice • 1 tsp Worcestershire • 1 tsp Salt • 1/2 tsp White Pepper • 1/4 tsp Cayenne • 1# Turkey, pulled • 3/4# Pork, pulled • 1/2# Rib Meat pulled, or sausage • 1 C Corn • 1 C Lima • To Taste Salt & Pepper In a stockpot over medium heat melt the lard and add the onion, carrot, and celery and cook until softened. Add tomatoes, stock, add the remaining ingredients except the meats and beans and bring to a simmer. Add the meats and beans and continue to simmer for 20-30 minutes. Add corn and beans and simmer for 30 minutes. Beat the cream cheese, mayo and seasoning until airy. Add the cheese and continue to beat until well combined. To serve, slice a thick cut of a nice slice of sourdough and lightly brush with oil. Toast in the oven until browned on both sides. Remove from the oven and take two large spoons of pimento cheese onto each of the toasts. Broil in the oven until brown and golden on top.
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MADE BY HAND. MADE WITH PRIDE. Over 26 Pairs of Hands Transform Solid Wood Into Comfortable Furniture. TROUTMANCHAIRS.COM
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I ease into the rocker on my porch, and it finds its cadence— rock… rock… rock…— lining me up with the rhythm of Mother Nature herself. I think of the hands that shaped this chair, steady, skilled, generations deep— a regional craft carried forward in quiet workshops and sawdust hollows, where wood remembers every story it ever stood through. And as I sway, I feel my own ancestors move close— not tied only to this land, but tied to me— braided into the grain of who I am. The chair calls them in, and calls me back to center. Rock… rock… rock… and I remember: the tree became the chair, the chair holds the human, and the human belongs to the world that shaped us all. We were never separate. Not for one breath. So I let myself sit a spell, letting the motion remind me where I come from and what I’m made of.