On a spring Friday in the mountains of western North Carolina, Thomas Edward Justice, known to everyone on Sugarloaf Mountain as Big Tom, stood in the doorway of his log cabin and took note of the new buds on the maple trees. Winter was finally loosening its grip, and that meant it was time to get back to the fields. With no formal schooling and no business license from the state, Big Tom had nevertheless made his living for twenty years the old-fashioned way: hauling wagonloads of Irish potatoes, corn, apples, strawberries, and chestnuts to the farmers market in Edneyville every Saturday, rain or shine, and the hill folks knew they could count on him. Inside the cabin, his wife Effie was busy rendering hog meat in a cast iron kettle and baking cornbread on a flat griddle over the open fire.
The household was already a noisy one, with seven boys and four girls, but folks back then figured you needed a good crop of young ones to help with the fields and the animals. It was plain to see that Effie was heavily pregnant again, and the granny woman had been sent for the day before because the baby was expected to arrive at any moment. By noon, the mountain doctor galloped up to the Justice homestead, her saddlebags packed with the latest medicines she had gathered from the hills and hollows. She arrived not a moment too soon, as Effie was already in the full throes of labor.
In those days, spring babies were simply the natural order of things, and the menfolk did not pace the floor or fret the way they do now. They went right on tending to their business. So it was no surprise that Big Tom and his faithful mule Earl never broke stride out in the field while Effie gave birth inside the cabin. The farmer looked up and saw his eldest boy, Tom Jr.
, running toward him across the field. Paul, paul, we got a baby girl. Big Tom gave a brief nod of understanding. Another girl to help around the house, he thought to himself.
About thirty minutes later, Junior came running across the field again. Paul, we got another baby girl. Big Tom nodded again and reckoned he would just break ground on a couple more rows that year, figuring the good Lord knew they would need the extra food. Then, no more than fifteen minutes later, Big Tom looked up and saw his boy running toward him yet again, arms flailing.
Paul, there’s another one. What in tarnation is going on in there? the old man yelled as he dropped his plow and took off running for the cabin, determined to make sure there were no more girls about to be born. The Justice household was now bursting at the seams with seven boys and seven girls.
Folks around those parts had heard tales of twins before, but triplets were plum unheard of on Sugarloaf Mountain. By the next day, wagon tongues had spread the news up and down Wolf Creek and clear across Judas Gap. Over the following week, a steady stream of kinfolk and curious neighbors visited the homestead to see the famous triplets with their own eyes. When Uncle Bob Freeman first saw the girls, he asked the obvious question.
Well, Big Tom, what are you going to name them? Well, I don’t rightly know. It’s hard to tell them apart. Uncle Bob pointed to the girl who had been born first and suggested Big Tom name her after his own wife, Bessie.
Since the girls looked so much alike, it only seemed sensible to make the names rhyme. And just like that, Essie, Bessie, and Dessie had their legal names. From that moment on, the triplets were inseparable. Effie made all their clothes identical, and as they grew, they became the pride and joy of Big Tom.
He took the girls to baby contests down in the valley, where all three of them would cause a spectacle rarely seen in the mountains. Folks came from all over just to see the famous Justice girls, and the girls were showered with all the free ice cream they could eat every time they went to town. Back home, they worked just like all the other kids, helping with household chores and tending to the animals, and even getting paid ten cents a day to work the potato and corn fields a few months out of the year. All the children of Sugarloaf Mountain attended the one-room Shepherd schoolhouse, and it was there that Essie, Bessie, and Dessie were given the nicknames Boots, Shoes, and Leggings by their classmates.
The girls were model children as long as their parents were around, but it was well known that they loved to rip and run just like all their siblings, getting into every bit of mischief possible, climbing trees and fences. The most fun of all came in winter, when the road they walked to school passed beneath a large overhanging cliff where cascading water created a wonderland of icicles during the cold months. The triplets would battle their brothers, sisters, and classmates in epic wars with huge chunks of ice, fiercely fighting as a team. Yet each Sunday, they would be on their best behavior in their pretty dresses, sitting between Effie and Big Tom and singing in the church choir.
The biggest day of the year at the Justice house was the triplets’ birthday. It would be planned for months in advance, with the entire community celebrating together. Those were simple times back then, but the Justice triplets always said those years were some of the best memories of their life. They always had food on the table, and they were surrounded by loving, hardworking parents.
Time marches on. By 1920, Essie and Bessie were seventeen years old and married. Dessie soon followed. And just like that, the triplets started out on their own individual journeys.
The seeds planted by their parents during childhood proved lasting, and they would go on to live long, healthy lives, running successful businesses and surrounded by a passel of children of their own and scores of grandchildren. Their birthdays continued to be spectacles for the rest of their lives, with newspapers across America celebrating each one. Even President Ronald Reagan wrote to them to mark their special day. Dessie died in 1986 at eighty-two years old.
Bessie followed in 1988 at eighty-four. And by 1998, the last of the triplets, Essie, died at ninety-three. Ironically, the spirit of Essie, Bessie, and Dessie still lives on. In a photo from their eightieth birthday, the babies in their laps were their great-grand nieces, who are now known as the famous Hoyle triplets of the present day.
And that is the rest of the story of Essie, Bessie, and Dessie, the famous Justice triplets of Appalachia. On a spring Friday high up the slopes of Sugarloaf Mountain in western North Carolina, Thomas Edward Justice stood in the open doorway of his log cabin and studied the fresh buds on the maple trees. The weather was finally turning, and that meant it was time to get back to the fields. Known to everyone in the little world of Edneyville simply as Big Tom, he had no book learning and no license to run a business in the state of North Carolina, but the hill folks knew they could count on him every Saturday at the farmers market with a wagonload of fresh vegetables.
For twenty years he had been there with his Irish potatoes, corn, and apples, depending on the season, sometimes even strawberries or chestnuts. This Friday, there was plenty to do. Tom wasted no time hooking up the plow to his faithful mule, Earl. Inside the primitive cabin, his wife Effie was busy preparing strips of hog meat in a cast iron kettle while making cornbread on a flat griddle held over the open flame of the fireplace.
The children were starting to stir, and what a passel of young ones it was: seven boys and four girls. Back then, folks figured you needed a good crop of children to ease the workload of the fields and the animals. And it looked as if the Justice family was about to be blessed again, for Effie was plainly very pregnant. They had sent for the granny woman the day before because the baby was likely to make a grand entrance at any minute.
By noon the mountain doctor galloped to the Justice homestead with a saddlebag full of the latest medicines she had harvested from the hills and hollows. She was not a moment too soon, for Effie was in the full throes of labor. In those days, spring babies were just the natural order of things, and menfolk did not pace the floors and fret the way they do now. They went right ahead tending to their business.
So it was no surprise that Big Tom and Earl never broke stride out in the fields while Effie labored inside the cabin. Then the farmer looked up and saw his eldest boy, Tom Jr. , running toward him. Paul, paul, we got a baby girl.
The mountaineer gave a brief nod of understanding. Another gal to help around the house, he thought. About thirty minutes later, Junior came running across the field again. Paul, we got another baby girl.
Big Tom nodded again and casually thought to himself that he would break ground on a couple more rows that year, for the good Lord knew they would need the extra food. And lo and behold, not fifteen minutes later, Big Tom looked up and saw his boy running toward the field yet again, arms flailing. Paul, there’s another one. What in tarnation is going on in there?
the old man yelled as he dropped his plow and took off running toward the cabin, determined to make sure there were no more girls about to be born. And so it was that the Justice household was now bursting at the seams with seven boys and seven girls. Folks around those parts had heard tales of twins before, but triplets were plum unheard of on Sugarloaf. By the next day, wagon tongues had spread the news up and down Wolf Creek and clear across Judas Gap.
Over the following week, a steady stream of kinfolk and curious visitors came to the Justice homestead to see the famous triplets with their own eyes. When Uncle Bob Freeman first saw the girls, he asked the obvious question: well, Big Tom, what are you going to name them? Big Tom admitted he did not rightly know, for it was hard to tell the girls apart. Uncle Bob pointed at the girl born first and said Big Tom ought to name her after his own wife, Bessie.
And since the girls looked so much alike, it was only sensible to make their names rhyme. How about Essie, Bessie, and Dessie? And just like that, the triplets had their legal names. From that moment on, Essie, Bessie, and Dessie were inseparable.
Effie made all their clothes and dressed them identically, and as they grew they became the pride and joy of Big Tom. He took the girls to baby contests down in the valley, where all three pretty girls caused a spectacle rarely seen in the mountains. Folks came from all over to see the famous Justice girls, and the girls were showered with all the free ice cream they could eat each time they went to town. Back home, they worked just like all the other children, helping with household chores, tending to the animals, and even earning ten cents a day to work the potato and corn fields a few months out of the year.
All the children of Sugarloaf Mountain attended the one-room Shepherd schoolhouse, and it was there that Essie, Bessie, and Dessie acquired the nicknames Boots, Shoes, and Leggings from their classmates. The girls were model children whenever their parents were around, but it was well known that they loved to rip and run just like all their siblings, getting into every bit of mischief possible, climbing trees and fences. The most fun they had was going to school during the winter, for the road they walked passed beneath a large overhanging cliff where cascading water created a wonderland of icicles in the cold months. The triplets would wage epic battles with their brothers, sisters, and classmates using huge chunks of ice, fiercely fighting as a team.
Yet each Sunday the girls were on their best behavior in their pretty dresses, sitting between Effie and Big Tom and singing in the church choir. The biggest day of the year at the Justice house was the triplets’ birthday, planned months in advance and celebrated by the entire community. These were simple times back then, but the Justice triplets always said those years held some of the best memories of their lives. They always had food, and they were surrounded by loving, hardworking parents.
Time marches on. By 1920, both Essie and Bessie were seventeen years old and married. Dessie soon followed, and just like that, the triplets started out on their own individual journeys. The seeds planted by their parents during childhood proved lasting, for the women went on to live long, healthy lives, running successful businesses and surrounded by a passel of children of their own and scores of grandchildren.
Their birthdays continued to be spectacles for the rest of their lives, with newspapers across America celebrating each one. Even President Ronald Reagan wrote to them to mark their special day. Dessie died in 1986 at eighty-two years old. Bessie followed in 1988 at eighty-four.
And by 1998, the last of the triplets, Essie, died at ninety-three. Ironically, the spirit of Essie, Bessie, and Dessie still lives on. In a photograph from their eightieth birthday, the babies in their laps were their great-grand nieces, who are now known as the famous Hoyle triplets.
And that is the rest of the story of Essie, Bessie, and Dessie, the famous Justice triplets of Appalachia.