THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Monday, September 26, 1994 TAG: 9409260168
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY MAC DANIEL, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: SUFFOLK LENGTH: Long : 140 lines
If anyone on American soil has the patience of Job, it's probably Joseph Claude Sessoms Jr.
Sessoms, whom everyone calls J.C., is a stout man with short graying hair and a soft, smoky voice. And like his biblical equivalent, Sessoms has suffered. But he has never lost his faith.
He's had a heart attack, a heart transplant and gone bankrupt. His farm has slowly been eaten away by industrial development. Anddeals that could have taken a chunk out of his debt have fallen through.
And this week, a multinational chemical company has decided to expand into a field hard against the Sessoms' remaining 10 acres.
``I've always said they should do a movie on us,'' said Pat Sessoms, J.C.'s wife of 38 years. ``We can make some of these movies about farming look like comedies compared to what we've been through.''
When he first took over the family farm, Sessoms tilled 1,200 acres. Throughout the nation, he was known as the ``Spinach King'' - a nickname achieved through his most profitable crop.
At home, he sold tomatoes, waxy eggplants and chubby pumpkins out of a small wooden shack on Wilroy Road. He lived in a beautiful white home with a wrap-around porch and balcony overlooking his acreage. He raised four children there.
Then his heart broke. Literally.
It was 1981, a year Sessoms spent in and out of the hospital. He had had a second major heart attack, which required four-way bypass surgery. He managed the farm from his hospital bed.
In 1982, when a fertilizer bill arrived that could not be paid, the hard times began.
The fertilizer company filed a judgment against the Sessomses, and the notes for the farm were called in. J.C. filed for protection under Chapter 11 bankruptcy to save the farm.
The family sold 85 acres in 1985. They sold one of the two homes on their land in 1986. But the debt kept mounting and Sessoms' health kept failing.
He was diagnosed with diabetes in 1986, and developed more heart problems in 1987. He wore a battery pack to keep his heart pumping.
With the medical bills mounting, the Sessomses were desperately trying to sell 235 acres to residential developers. But all the deals fell through.
The city didn't want houses in a planned industrial corridor; it didn't fit with the city's long-range plans. In addition, the city was using some of the land as a buffer between the Allied Colloids chemical plant and residents.
More deals fell through, and Sessoms found himself back in the hospital in 1989. He needed a heart transplant. He was in a coma and on a respirator. He was near death.
But he wasn't ready to give up.
He remembers shepherds watching over him in what he calls ``an out-of-body experience.'' He recalls being in a broad valley where shepherds put him in a stream of cool water.
Then it was over. He awoke in a hospital bed.
``The doctor hugged me and said it was a miracle,'' said Pat Sessoms. ``It was like a miracle had descended on him.''
By 1993, the Sessomses were about to strike another land deal with developers. Zoning and a preliminary plat had been approved. A sales agreement was signed.
But the developer's plans to finance the project failed. And when the deal wasn't struck by the June 1 deadline, a bankruptcy judge ordered the sale of 132 acres of the Sessomses' land at public auction.
There were only two bidders. The land netted $594,000 - one-third of its value. That was June 30, the Sessomses' 37th wedding anniversary. Pat cried for two days.
``The sale of that property was supposed to pay for everything and give us our retirement,'' said Pat. ``But it didn't do that, that's for sure.
``There is a lot of anger built up. I have tried to get the anger out because I know the anger doesn't do you any good. But I just don't know what our purpose is here.''
Nowadays, Pat takes walks around a discount department store to forget the hard times. She hasn't had a vacation in 12 years. ``Whatever I buy,'' she said, ``is on the clearance rack of the clearance rack.''
Now, after 12 years under the onus of Chapter 11, after years of lawsuits and creditors' phone calls, the Suffolk City Council has given permission for Allied Colloids Inc. to expand onto land adjacent to the Sessomses' farm.
``Who wants to buy vegetables from a farm next to a chemical plant?'' said Robert V. Roussos, Sessom's attorney.
Allied Colloids, a British-owned company that makes wallpaper glue and water-soluble polymers used to separate sludge from water, makes about $150 million annually and employs 385 people.
City officials said the company is a ``good neighbor.''
``We are an expansionist company,'' Peter Croft, vice president of engineering for Allied Colloids, told the City Council. ``And we want to expand in Suffolk. If we don't have space to move into, we'll have to reconsider whether we will expand in Suffolk.''
The council approved the move 6-1.
Robert Baldwin, Suffolk's planning director, admits that the Sessomses are part of ``a very difficult situation.''
``We will apply all the laws minimizing impact on the property,'' he said. ``That's about the best we can do.
``And the bottom line is that if you don't have commercial and industrial growth to pay taxes, someone else is going to have to pay.''
The Sessomses say they've paid enough.
``We are going to survive,'' said Pat. ``We are survivors. They are not going to take any more. They've taken enough.''
But all the Sessomses can do now is wait.
``I already lost one farm,'' J.C. said after the council meeting. ``I don't want to lose another.''
J.C. Sessoms still farms 37 acres, but spends most of his days behind the wheel of a pickup, driving for hours to deliver fruits and vegetables.
He didn't return home Friday until after midnight. On Saturday, he was out the door by 8 a.m.
``He's working himself to death, really,'' said Pat. ``And he's doing it just to pay the bills, to stay alive.''
The Sessomses will face their next challenge today when the family goes to court to face code violations on their property. The city has asked them to remove their idle farm equipment.
``They took all of our land,'' said Pat. ``Where the heck are we going to put it all?''
Despite the hardships, J.C. and Pat have not lost their faith in themselves or their farm. They get their strength, they say, from God.
``We aren't going away,'' said Pat, ``because we haven't won yet.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photo by Jim Walker
Pat Sessoms, above, with her husband, J.C. Behind them is the Allied
Colloids chemical plant and the field where the company plans to
expand.
Color staff map
Area shown: Allied Colloids chemical plant and [the] Sessoms home
by CNB