Abandoned tobacco warehouse,
In Parkton, across the street from my grandfather's drugstore, is the railroad station;
once on the main line from New York to Florida, now it is wearing away, like the
town, as the older residents die off. Trains don't stop anymore; tobacco is dying, and
the town is now too far from Fayetteville to be a bedroom community.
At least, for now.
When I began my career in 1974 at the Whiteville News Reporter, I loved driving
the back roads looking for pictures. That's where the real people lived, worked,
laughed and died. Those negatives have been donated to the Southern Historical Col-
lection at Wilson Library. After stints at The Associated Press in Washington, at
United Press International in Columbia, S.c., and Miami, and the rigors of daily