With ribbons of steel as its backbone, a railroad crossroad in the wilderness of Wayne County evolved into a community in the mid-1800s. Jesup became “The town that trains built.”
One hundred years later, the north-south tracks had a profound influence on a skinny kid who moved from one side to the other. I finished the first grade with Mrs. Leslie Poppell at T.G. Ritch Elementary on the east side. But when NeSmith Funeral Home moved to 111 W. Orange St., my sisters and I would walk six blocks to Orange Street Elementary.
Principal Tom James and his wife, Sara, may not have been standing on the front steps of the low-slung, built-in-a-hurry school to handle the surge of baby boomers and newcomers with Rayonier’s new pulp mill, but they embraced us quickly. And until they died, Tom and Sara never let us go, and vice versa.
The New York Yankees had the powerful duo of Roger Maris and Mickey Mantle. Tom and Sara James were Orange Street’s Maris and Mantle. But the school’s faculty was brimming with other all-stars, too.
The cadre of teachers created a sense of family. Alumni speak of those years as if they can still smell the chalk in the classrooms of Ila Warren, Hazel Eason, Gussie Richardson, Mildred Jones, Sara James and others.
Sara James taught me more than fifth-grade subjects. With the swagger of an athlete and the grace of a sophisticated Southern lady, she could swat a softball over Sixth Street. With robin-egg-blue eyes, she looked at me and said in her signature smooth voice, “This is how you get into your batter’s stance. Hold the bat like this. And never take your eyes off the ball.”
She didn’t take her eyes off her students, either.
Sara James poured her heart into teaching. She drilled beyond multiplication tables. What I learned the most never appeared on my report card. She taught me about me. She opened the lid on my 10-year-old imagination.
I am grateful Tom and Sara James took an interest in me. They instilled something that can’t be found in textbooks—self-confidence. As two of my early mentors, they taught me how to stand before a group and talk without my knobby knees buckling.
Tom said, “Always remember your principal is your pal.” Indeed, he was. Later in life, I came to appreciate his motto: “The service you render is the rent you pay for the privileges of living on Earth.”
Twenty years ago, while I was visiting, Tom said, “Follow me.” We walked into the kitchen. He paused and pointed to a note on the refrigerator door. “See,” he said, “that tells everyone that you will do my eulogy.” As I followed him back to the den, I slowed to dab the corners of my eyes.
Five years later, I knelt between their La-Z-Boys and held hands with two of my favorite educators. As if I was following a ping-pong match, my pupils pivoted right and left, watching the eyes of Tom and Sara dance. Even though both were gravely ill, you could feel the adoration between them as they bantered back and forth in their soft voices.
Tom talked of his prize-winning flowers and Kiwanis. Sara talked about golf, bridge, the Methodist church and her favorite subject—grandchildren. But the conversation—as it always did—bounced back to Orange Street Elementary.
Just as the railroad runs through the center of my hometown, the uplifting spirit of Sara and Tom James has run through my soul since 1954. And it always will.
As we pause to count our blessings in this special season, I offer a prayer of thanksgiving for the many fine teachers who have influenced my life.
Especially Tom and Sara James.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
dnesmith@cninewspapers.com
