FIELDS OF FORTUNE
North Carolina’s Legacy in Leaf and Labor
ZSR Library Special Collections & Archives, Wake Forest University
February 3rd, 2025 - December 18th, 2025
FAMILY PHOTOS
Below are photographs captured by my grandmother, Janie "Mimi" Kye, who had a lifelong passion for documenting her family through photography.
I took this photo during one of our walks to the barn. She and my grandfather met and married in 1954, settling into the home where she still lives today. Over the years, the house has grown through various renovations and additions, including a large back room built specifically to bring the entire family together.
The newlywed couple purchased the barn just up the road from their home, along with 1.5 acres of land where they farmed corn and tobacco. The neighboring farm still keeps horses, which I love to visit.
In the last year we were able to take our walks, Mimi refused to use a cane or walker—“those were for old people,” she’d say.
Instead, she repurposed a garden hoe, leaning on it for support as we walked. And when the tool wasn’t within reach, she took my arm instead, lovingly calling me “her hoe.”
Gathered together on the family's first tractor. Yvonne, on the left, is the eldest. Mitch, my dad, has hands on the wheel, while Mike, the middle child, sits next to Bobby.
My dad, cigarette in hand, seated on the back porch steps of the family home in Tobaccoville, NC. Like so many raised around tobacco, he inevitably picked up the habit—but he managed to quit during my childhood.
A photo of one of the gatherings at the barn. Parties were a way the family stayed awake during the long nights of the tobacco curing process.
In the back, my aunt Yvonne is seated, while my dad and my uncle Mike stand on either side of Bobby. By this age, the brothers were already priming tobacco, either working in the family fields or hiring out to neighboring farms to earn extra money for the household.
My dad and Mikey were especially proud of their cool new blue shirts that day. Dad always described his older brother as “the responsible one,” someone others could count on. Unlike Mikey, Dad wasn’t fond of priming tobacco—he would have much rather stayed home listening to his vinyl records. But, more often than not, he found himself dragged along to different work assignments, earning his share.
The image also highlights the barn doors and flue pipes in their original state. Today, the barn's doors and pipes have been removed and the building serves as storage for the family.
Bobby on his tractor—a familiar sight. He had all kinds of farming equipment and, even in retirement, was always ready to help neighbors and friends with anything they needed.
He was also the kind of man who always had a pipe within reach. Tobacco provided for the family, but it also took its toll. He passed away from cancer, which we suspect started in his lungs after years of smoking. He died just two days after my 9th birthday.
I called him Poppy.
THE FIELD
Since we no longer grow tobacco, my dad and I had to search the county for a field to photograph for this exhibition. Every field he remembered from his childhood was gone—either replaced by housing developments or converted to other crops.
We were running out of options.
In the summer of 2024, while driving near Hanging Rock State Park, we turned onto a side road to head home. That’s when we stumbled upon an old man sitting in a rocking chair on his front porch, across from a small quarter-acre plot of tobacco. Since we were in shotgun country and didn’t want to trespass, we walked up to his porch to introduce ourselves. Before I could even explain the project, he interrupted: “Kye—wait, are you kin to Bobby?”
Cautiously, we confirmed that we were. His face lit up as he told us he had been a childhood friend of my grandfather. After sharing stories, we explained our project, and he directed us a little further up the road to a larger tobacco field. When I asked if we’d get in trouble for walking through it, he just chuckled and said, “It’s not my tobacco, but it’s my land, so they can deal with me.”
A special thank you to Rayvon Tucker of Westfield, NC, for allowing me to photograph his field. I returned several times between August and December of 2024 to document the stages of growth and harvest. If you’d like to see it in person, the field is across from Stoney Ridge Baptist Church near the base of Hanging Rock—just be mindful, explore with caution, and respect the crops.
Click on the images to expand and read more about their stories and significance.
THE BARN
Rendering of the barn as it would have appeared in operation. The front section would have been closed to retain heat, but the barn doors have been omitted to reveal the interior space.
Flue-curing is a method of drying tobacco leaves using indirect heat. The leaves are hung in a barn where heat is carefully controlled through a flue system, which channels heat from an external source (such as a wood or coal-fired furnace) without exposing the leaves to smoke. This process, typically lasting several days, preserves the leaves' natural sugars, resulting in the characteristic golden color and smooth, mild flavor of flue-cured tobacco, commonly used in cigarettes.
Janie loading logs into the wood box, while Bobby changes a plate on the rotary press—both absorbed in the tasks that provided for their family. She was a full-time homemaker, and he worked full-time at the Winston-Salem Journal. Tobacco was only ever a part-time job, but it required the effort of the entire family.