Mandy Powers Norrell

I’ll never forget the long, hot summers I spent working in Grace Bleachery to help pay my way through college.  

I’ll never forget the smell of the dye that was pumped into the big blue barrels, the 120-degree temperatures between the new Zimmer machine and the cinder block wall, the sounds of clacking and whirring as the cloth was printed and processed, and the bright yellow earplugs we wore around our necks that showed that we were all a part of the same team.
I’ll never forget how much that $6 an hour meant to me during the school year when it was time to pay my tuition, buy my books, pay for gas back home on the weekends.
And I’ll never forget the lessons I learned – lessons about being on time, about being part of a team, about sticking to something and finishing it.
But mostly, I’ll never forget the people I met there -- people who helped shape my attitudes about the power of hard work, about how to treat the people who depend on you, about patience, about devotion to family and loyalty to company.
People like Ferris Phillips, who loved to laugh, and found enjoyment in every task - he was the first person I saw every morning and the last one I saw in the evenings.
People like Johnny Childers, who showed me how to calculate the amount of dye needed for each pattern, who never seemed to mind my asking one more time how do the calculations.
People like Don Deese, who’d worked at the bleachery for decades and had a tremendous pride in his job and the products he helped send around the world.
People like a fellow whose nickname was “Ninety-Mile,” because of his speedy work ethic and commitment, who always greeted me with a smile – he loved his job as much as I loved mine and would talk about it with as he wheeled the barrels of dye to his machine.
People like Ernest Croxton, who always talked about his family – it was obvious who he was working for and on what he was spending that check he took home every week.
I ride by the bleachery now, the old Lancaster Plant site, Customer Service, the Elliott, Francis, and Katherine Plants, and my heart rises in my throat. All those jobs – gone. That way of life – gone.
But I know the people aren’t gone. They’re still here.
Some of them like my parents, who worked for Springs for a combined 68 years, are living comfortably on the retirement they worked years to earn – living comfortably, but still facing the realities of a fixed income, a rising cost of living and looming medical bills.
Some of them, like my friend Doris, are going back to school to learn new skills for a global economy, skills that they hope will win them a better job in a company that will be here until they retire.
And many of them are driving hundreds of miles each week to jobs in other towns and counties, spending hours on the road, hours that they once spent with their families, working in their gardens, worshiping at their churches.
They – and I – never dreamed that the bleachery or the Customer Service Center or many of the jobs at the Corporate Offices in Fort Mill would be gone so soon.
Those people are the reason I’m running to represent this District in the South Carolina Senate. I want to bring good jobs back to the people of Fort Mill, of Indian Land, of Lancaster.
I want to see our district prosper, our people have the jobs they need to fulfill their dreams of owning a home, of vacationing with their families, of going to college.
I know firsthand the incredible talent and work ethic the people of this district have to offer.
And I know that with hard work and ingenuity, we can bring new jobs and opportunities back to our district.
And if you allow me to serve you in the South Carolina Senate, you can be assured that I’ll use all the lessons I learned those summers in the bleachery to bring new jobs back to the people of District 16.