PEA ISLAND — Recently I had the pleasure of giving Johnnie Van Willis a tour of the historic Pea Island Cookhouse museum. Johnnie traveled to the museum from his home in Marshallberg, a historic fishing community situated on a peninsula in Carteret County and directly along the shores of the Core Sound.

Marshallberg has been characterized as a sleepy, close-knit village with a rich history of commercial fishing, boatbuilding and family heritage. Johnnie’s great-grandfather was Isaac Van Willis Sr. He’s the surfman sitting in the middle top row in the only known photograph of a “Checkerboard Crew.” This term was used in the U.S. Life-Saving Service, the predecessor to today’s U.S. Coast Guard, to identify racially mixed surfmen crews, crews with both Black and white surfmen, like a checkerboard.

In March 2023, a painting depicting this image was unveiled at the College of the Albemarle – Dare County Campus. Both the photograph and painting are on display at the “Cookhouse,” the shortened name for the museum housed in what once was a building in which surfmen cooked and ate their meals.

As background, Johnnie shares both his middle and last name with his great-grandfather and grandfather, Isaac Van Willis Sr. and Isaac Van Willis Jr. In spring 2018, Johnnie took a road trip with his wife and daughters in search of his great-grandfather’s grave. Through a friend, he had learned it was somewhere near the Marshall and Gussie Collins Trail, a trail named after my grandparents at the Collins homestead. They were part of a small and closely knit community of Black residents of Roanoke Island. It included those connected to the Freedmen’s Colony on Roanoke Island, as well as the rich Native American history here.

Like many Black people in their community, my grandparents were known for their hard work, family, friends, and record of service. They once owned a home and farmland near where the trail is now, including much of the property that surrounds the Dare County Governmental Center and not far from the Virginia Dare Memorial Bridge.

I had noticed when Johnnie and two of his daughters were walking on the trail and struck up a conversation with them. They told me they were searching for the gravesite but couldn’t find it, and they were super excited when I revealed that it was a just a few yards away. Leading them there, I sensed our special connection.

Johnnie did not know much about his great-grandfather, other than that he had worked several years in the Life-Saving Service.

I quickly realized the parallels and differences associated with our two families. My great-grandfather also worked in the service. We both had family members and friends who had lived in small, tightly knit communities and had grown up fishing, oystering, catching crabs, building boats, farming, hunting, and going to church together. Yet, we also shared the understanding that history shows the lives and experiences of our two families were very different, simply because of race. 

Born in January 1873, my great-grandfather, Joseph Hall Berry, began his career initially serving as a “substitute” surfman when the legendary Keeper Richard Etheridge commanded the historic Pea Island Life-Saving Station. He enlisted in February 1902, the same month that my father would do the same 37 years later. My great-grandfather Berry is also the only of several family members who served in both the Life-Saving Service and the Coast Guard. He retired in February 1917 after serving for 15 years.

The trail signage at Isaac Van Willis Sr.’s grave shows he served for 30 years. Given that Life-Saving Service stations that once stretched along coast were spaced about seven miles apart and that our great-grandparents worked at neighboring stations, in all likelihood they knew each other. They could have each lived on Roanoke Island, but I am uncertain where Isaac Van Willis Sr. may have lived. They also likely participated in joint rescues. Before motorized equipment was available, these rescues were especially difficult and dangerous, often requiring the manpower of several stations.

Today, Johnnie still chuckles when he recalls how we met. When I realized who he was, the first thing I told him was to wait a few minutes, that his visit was important and I needed to I grab a pen and piece of paper. Yet, as we stood talking, I realized that, other than knowing his great-grandfather spent several years in the service, Johnnie knew little about him. He died when Johnnie was just a small child.

Johnnie knew more about his grandfather, Isaac Van Willis Jr., had who worked in the U.S. Lighthouse Service at the Cape Lookout Lighthouse.

In 2018, I also knew little about Isaac Van Willis Sr., and the story of Checkerboard Crews. Yet, each time I looked at the gravesite, I sensed he was important. His prominent marker, which includes the Life-Saving Service emblem and information about his wife on the opposite side, has always intrigued me. I was delighted a few days ago to receive a call from one of Johnnie’s daughters telling me that she wanted to bring her father back to Roanoke Island and to visit the Cookhouse. The trip was quickly planned. Johnnie and his daughters were thrilled to see a framed copy of the 1910 photograph and the vibrant oil painting of the same, each showing Isaac Van Willis Sr. They had never seen either image before. The discovery even brought tears to one granddaughter’s eyes.

I also made Johnnie aware of a letter that I had discovered about Isaac Van Willis Sr. several years ago. I promised to search for it in the research material I have collected over the years. At the time he was Surfman No. 1 at the Oregon Inlet station, the position typically next in line to become Keeper. Although I haven’t looked at it for several years now, I still recall being surprised to find Keeper Richard Etheridge’s signature on it. He and several others had signed it in support of Isaac Van Willis Sr.’s desire to become Keeper. Before Johnnie left, I promised to search for it and send him a copy.

Likewise, although Johnnie did not have any pictures of his great-grandfather, he had brought along something very special for me to see. He showed me a cherished framed photograph of Isaac Van Willis Jr., a photograph showing him doing work inside the lantern at the Cape Lookout Lighthouse. He promised to send me a copy of the photo when he returned home.

After a day that began with a seafood lunch, then a long visit at the Cookhouse, and ended with a cherished joint return to the Isaac Van Willis Sr. gravesite, I have concluded that our chance encounter eight years ago was destiny, simply something meant to be.

The broader story of Checkerboard Crews is a planned topic for “Cookhouse Chats,” a new initiative for 2026 that started in February. These periodic chats are to provide information on lesser-known stories associated with the history that the Cookhouse represents. Our next planned chat will be announced soon. 

Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn’t, but Easter came really early this year. But what does a bunny hand-delivering colored eggs and loads of chocolates have to do with gardening?

Ever wonder why Easter hops around like a bunny trying to get away from a fox? Most, although not all, holidays fall each year on a set date. It’s much easier to keep track of them that way. What if Valentine’s Day and Christmas jumped around the way Easter does? It makes it kind of hard to plan decorating and festivities, doesn’t it? It’s a challenge to even remember when to celebrate.

So why is it that Easter skitters hither and yon like a drop of water on a hot skillet? Is it simply afraid of commitment?

How many of you, enticed by our warmer-than-usual March weather, gleefully donned your shorts and flip-flops and got all gung-ho about planting your garden or your flowerbeds? The big-box stores were certainly eager to foster your addiction with all kinds of Hansel- and Gretel-esque “gingerbread house” plant displays.

Long before Easter was, well, Easter, the date now chosen as the holiest of Christian holidays was earlier established as an ancient planting guide that varied, according to the full moon. Our ancestors didn’t always have calendars. Some of them just didn’t pay that much attention. Others, like some of us, wanted to jump the gun and get a head start on the planting season. Weather was cold, weather turned warm, and then they got antsy, the same way we do.

Unlike us, if they planted and lost their seeds or tender, young plants to frost or cold weather, they couldn’t just run out to the nearest garden center and buy more. Saved seeds were often the difference between having plenty of food and going hungry — or even starving to death.

And then there’s that pesky difference between cole crops and warm-season crops. Some plants thrive in cold weather, and some can’t stand it. Some plants love hot weather, and some melt. It’s like the difference between someone who loves winter and someone who prefers summer.

Not only do we need to know when to plant, we need to know what to plant. Blessed as we are, here on the coast, with multiple growing seasons, there’s still an art to getting the cole crops finished before the heat sets in, and getting the warm season crops in as soon as we can without them getting zapped by frost.

You may be thinking, “We’re not growing crops on the moon, so what difference does the moon make to anything?”

The moon, that gorgeous, greenish cheese wheel in the sky, waxes and wanes on a regular schedule. Full every 28-ish days, its increasing and decreasing size affects far more than we realize. Weather. Animals. Humans. Oceans.

Without looking it up, do you know what phase the moon is in right now? It cycles over 29 ½ days from new, when we can’t see it at all, through waxing crescent, which is a thin crescent on the right; and then first quarter, or half-moon; waxing gibbous, which is between half and full; full; waning gibbous, or between full and half; third quarter or half-moon; and waning gibbous, a thin crescent on the left.

Because it can be full every 28 days, it’s entirely possible to have two full moons in the same month, a phase we call a “blue moon.”

There’s usually a significant weather event a couple days on either side of a full moon, whether it be cold, storms, or what have you. Insects hatch out worse around a full moon. Animals, such as deer or fish, feed at different times, according to the phase of the moon. It’s long been a belief that humans get crazier around a full moon. Just ask any nurse, police officer, or teacher.

The moon, our lovely nightlight, moves all the water on the planet four times a day. Think about that! And since humans are walking, talking, thinking (sometimes) bags of water, it has to have an effect on us as well.

Living mostly inside in our heated and air-conditioned homes, most of us don’t pay much attention to the stages of the moon anymore, or even to the moon itself, unless we happen to catch sight of a full moon while moving from the enclosure of our cars to the enclosure of our homes. In times past, the moon was a valuable predictor or harbinger of numerous different events, and wise people paid attention.

So, what does the full moon have to do with Easter and planting?

The reason the holiday doesn’t fall a set date is this: Easter is always the first Sunday after the first full moon after March 21. The spring equinox is March 21, so depending on the Paschal Full Moon, Easter can fall anywhere between March 22 and April 25. However, if the full moon falls on a Sunday, Easter will be the following Sunday.

The spring, or vernal, equinox, is when the sun rises due east and sets due west, and it was marked by the ancients at places like Stonehenge and Chichen Itza to signify the end of winter and the renewal that follows, the beginning of spring.

Theoretically, in our area, there shouldn’t be any more frost after Easter. Easter this year was April 5, while our last frost date is usually determined to be around the 15th of April.

Now, are you beginning to see why Good Friday is often known as “planting day?” Seeds put out after that time should be OK. Keep in mind, warm season crops such as tomatoes, peppers, cukes and eggplants need nighttime temps in the mid-60s to thrive.

If there’s one thing consistent about weather, it is that it’s going to be weather, and like an exhausted, hyped-up toddler on a sugar rush, it’s going to pitch a fit and do what it wants!

This is exactly why there would always be one wise elder in the village or larger area who carefully and accurately kept track of the moon and its phases — the one who cried out, “Stop! It’s not time yet! It’s too early! Wait!”

Just like now, some people listened and some didn’t. Sometimes their jumping the gun worked, and sometimes they failed abysmally.

Four new historic districts and 19 properties across the state, five of which are on the coast, have been added to the National Register of Historic Places in the last year, the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources announced this week.

Part of a national program to coordinate and support public and private efforts to identify, evaluate, and protect America’s historic and archeological resources, the National Historic Register is the “official list of the Nation’s historic places worthy of preservation,” that was authorized by the National Historic Preservation Act of 1966 and is under the National Park Service.

“Each addition to the National Register of Historic Places represents another step in preserving North Carolina’s unique story,” said the department’s Secretary Pamela Cashwell in a statement Thursday. “These sites help connect our communities to their past while supporting cultural tourism and local economies.” 

In Beaufort County, Pantego School No. 2 was listed Feb. 24. The Rosenwald-funded school building was completed in 1926 and remained operational as an integrated school after 1968, until it closed in the spring of 2001, the application states.

Winnabow is an 1845 Greek Revival frame house with a double-pile center-passage plan at 677 Governor Road, in Brunswick County that was was Dec. 29, 2025.

Clubfoot and Harlow Canal in Carteret and Craven counties, which was listed Feb. 23, is a roughly 3-mile artificial channel dug that opened July 1827 across a peninsula connecting Clubfoot Creek and the Neuse River at the north to Harlow Creek and the Newport River to the south.

The 1850 Adam Dough Etheridge House in Dare County was listed Aug. 11, 2025. The two-story, single pile, vernacular dwelling features a side-gabled roof and partially enclosed full-width porches on the façade, common among houses on Roanoke Island in the 18th and early 19th centuries.

Located in Pasquotank County, Oak Grove Cemetery, which was listed Aug. 11, 2025, is Elizabeth City’s oldest extant Black cemetery. The Black community formally established it on 2.53 acres in 1886, expanded it twice in 1921, and again in 1955 to approximately 8 acres, which it remains today within a 14-acre parcel, according to documents.

The listing of a property in the National Register places no obligation or restriction on a private owner using private resources to maintain or alter the property.

Over the years, various federal and state incentives have been introduced to assist private preservation initiatives, including tax credits for the rehabilitation of National Register properties.

As of Dec. 31, 2025, there have been 4,455 completed historic rehabilitation projects with private investments of $4 billion statewide.

From a Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center announcement

As the Los Angeles Dodgers start the new baseball season hoping to win their third consecutive World Series title, it seems like a good time to remember a Morehead City native who helped the team reach even greater heights more than 40 years ago.

Ben Wade didn’t display his real talent, as it turned out, on the pitching mound. Prone to wildness and home runs, he was merely an average major-league pitcher in a five-year career during which he bounced around the National League. He showed his real skill later, as a scout and then longtime scouting director for the Dodgers. Wade’s ability to project the type of players youngsters would become led to nine pennants, seven World Series appearances, and four titles.

Frank Tursi, Coastal Review’s founding editor and the author of a new book about North Carolina natives who played major-league baseball, will talk about Wade and his brother, Jake, also a big-league pitcher, on Saturday, April 25, at the Core Sound Museum Store, 806 Arendell St. in Morehead City. His book, “Tar Heel Boys of Summer: North Carolina’s Major League Ballplayers,” will be available for purchase, and museum members will get a 10% discount. Tursi will sign copies.

The stories of 34 big leaguers are featured in the book. Included are all seven Hall of Famers: Luke Appling of High Point, Rick Ferrell of Friendship in Guilford County, Jim “Catfish” Hunter of Hertford, Buck Leonard of Rocky Mount, Gaylord Perry of Williamston, Enos Slaughter of Roxboro and Hoyt Wilhelm of Huntersville. Tursi also tells the stories of players who almost made it to Cooperstown like Johnny Allen, the hot-headed orphan from Thomasville, and Ferrel’s brother, Wes, the dairy farmer with the Hollywood good looks.

At least 50 Black North Carolinians, like Leonard, played major-league ball during the time of the sport’s apartheid. They played in their own leagues, mostly unseen by white fans. Most never heard of Red Grier of Catawba County, who threw a no-hitter in a Black World Series 30 years before Don Larsen pitched his perfect game, or Charlie Smith of Hamlet, who could very well be the best hitter there ever was. Tursi tells their stories as well as those of other Negro Leaguers for the first time in his book.

Tursi, a journalist who lives in Swansboro, has spent almost 40 years roaming North Carolina writing about its people, culture and history. His book paints a picture of a state now long gone, he noted. “Collectively, these stories tell of a North Carolina of the early and mid-20th century,” he said. “It was a rural state of small towns and family farms where tobacco and cotton were kings.”

Baseball, he noted, was truly America’s Game, back then, played in every school yard and hamlet. In the era before free agents, few got rich playing it professionally, he said. “I hope these stories give readers a sense of what it was like when farmers and mill hands and fishermen’s sons, like the Wades, left the tobacco fields, mill villages and small towns to play a game, not for the money, really, but for the pure pleasure it brought them,” he said.

The book, Tursi’s fourth, also includes thumbnail sketches of all 501 North Carolinians who played in the majors – the most-extensive compendium compiled of native players – complete career pitching and batting statistics and Top 10 rankings in major offensive and pitching categories.

Reprinted from the Ocracoke Observer

Waterfowl memories are woven throughout Ocracoke native Eddie O’Neal’s life.

He recalls redheads, pintails, teal and great flocks of geese on the Pamlico Sound and winter days in sink boxes with old-timers like Thurston Gaskill.

Because of that history and his skill of turning a block of wood into a work of art, he was named featured carver for this year’s Ocracoke Island Waterfowl Festival from 5 p.m. to 8 p.m. Friday, and from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday in the Ocracoke School gym.

O’Neal chose the Canada goose as his signature piece, honoring both the bird and the generations of island hunters and carvers who came before him.

“A Canada goose was a real trophy back then,” he said. “Something you showed off with pride and often shared with older neighbors who couldn’t get out to hunt themselves.”

O’Neal graduated from Ocracoke School in 1978 alongside classmates Vince O’Neal and the late John Simpson, two of the founders of the Ocracoke Decoy Carver’s Guild in 2018.

As a boy, O’Neal was constantly on the water.

Like many island youth, by age 12 he was already hunting and fishing around Springer’s Point and on his father’s nearby property.

He fished commercially with his father, Carson, who served in the Coast Guard, and brothers Andy and Albert, working pound nets and gigging flounder.

During his 23 years working for the state of North Carolina, he held a variety of positions: on a dredge crew, building spillways and working heavy equipment from Southport to Knotts Island.

Included in his working career, he also built golf courses, was a truck driver and worked on road paving crews for an asphalt company out of Norfolk, Virginia.

He and his wife Pam also ran the Island Galley restaurant on Ocracoke until damage from Hurricane Isabel (2003) forced them to close.

Although he appreciated decoys, he didn’t start carving as a hobby until around 2008 while living in Virginia Beach. Over time, that hobby “morphed into a full-time job.”

Among his fond memories are watching Wilbur and Clinton Gaskill, older Ocracoke carvers, who turned out small geese flyers and decoys at an astonishing pace. Wilbur could make 15 to 20 decoys a day and sell every one of them on a summer day when the island was far quieter than it is now.

His second cousin, Dave O’Neal, a retired Coast Guard man and renowned carver, has been an important influence offering tips on the techniques and tools of the craft.

Preferring to focus on his own carvings, O’Neal doesn’t collect or trade in other people’s decoys.

When he and Pam retired several years ago, they moved back to Ocracoke, and his carving became a daily practice.

Today, O’Neal does most of his carvings for the Island Ragpicker shop, run by his siblings Stephanie and Albert.

Not just decoys — he crafts shore birds, small flyers, fish, and a variety of decorative pieces that keep the shelves full and his hands busy.

Carving is his “therapy room” — something that keeps him grounded in retirement and balances time with his grandchildren Carter, Kyler, Amaya, Johnny and Angel.

He rarely sells pieces directly, except at some island events.

He prefers to stock the shop or donate carvings to local fundraisers like the Ocracoke Firemen’s Ball auction where his works have helped raise significant financial support over the years.

For materials, O’Neal favors northern white cedar, which he hauls back from a sawmill near Egg Harbor, New Jersey.

He also uses tupelo, sourced from a Mennonite mill near Pink Hill, and some pine.

Large decoys are almost always cedar, while smaller items, like flyers, often come from scrap wood he picks up from around the island, such as from the school that was torn down.

He appreciates cedar’s similarity to local juniper and its fine, aromatic grain. O’Neal shapes his birds with an angle grinder for the rough form, then refines them with a Dremel and extensive sanding, especially on the delicate heads and bills of shore birds.

He draws most of his own patterns by hand and also enjoys building furniture, having made tables and household pieces for family members from barn oak and other reclaimed woods.

This story is provided courtesy of the Ocracoke Observer, a newspaper covering Ocracoke Island. Coastal Review partners with the Ocracoke Observer to provide readers with more environmental and lifestyle stories of interest along our coast.

Part of an ongoing series on North Carolina’s observance of America’s 250th.

As the United States recognizes the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence July 4, 1776, Dare County is celebrating its unique role in American history Saturday with “Liberty, Legacy, and Lift Off in the Land of Beginnings.”

The Dare A250 Faire is a two-event celebration, with the first scheduled for 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday in downtown Manteo. The Star Spangled Spectacular is scheduled for that afternoon from 3:30-7 p.m. at Roanoke Island Festival Park.

“Rooted in a place known as the ‘Land of Beginnings,’ this milestone event honors Dare County’s unique role in America’s story — from the earliest English settlement attempts to the birthplace of powered flight. With a spirit of innovation, discovery and freedom woven throughout, the Dare A250 Faire promises a vibrant and meaningful tribute to 250 years of American history,” according to the county.

Both celebrations are no charge for the public, though the evening program requires those who wish to attend to reserve a spot through the online portal. As of publication, the tickets were all claimed. Those who wish to attend can continue to check the online portal to see if a seat has come available due to a cancelation.

Dare County is the “Land of Beginnings” because it is the location of England’s first attempt to establish a colony in 1587, now known as the “Lost Colony” because more than 100 settlers vanished from the site between arriving and 1590, and the birthplace of Virginia Dare. Dare was the first English child born in the Americas in 1587. The county is also the site of the Wright Brothers’ flight in 1903, the first controlled and powered heavier-than-air flight.

Dorothy Hester, co-chair of the Dare County A250 Committee, explained to Coastal Review that visitors can expect a full day of family-friendly fun in a festive, patriotic atmosphere.

“Downtown Manteo will come alive with a street festival featuring live music, street performers, storytelling, arts and crafts vendors, nonprofit exhibits, and several food vendors,” Hester said. “The celebration continues into the evening at Roanoke Island Festival Park with the Star-Spangled Spectacular, which has officially sold out–an exciting reflection of the strong community interest and support for this event.”

Hester said that the committee has been meeting for more than a year “to thoughtfully plan how our community would mark this historic milestone.”

The Dare A250 Faire emerged as the cornerstone event of that effort, which she said was designed to bring residents and visitors together in a meaningful and memorable way.

“What began as an idea has grown into a true community-wide collaboration among Dare County, local partners, local organizations, businesses, volunteers and sponsors,” Hester said.

Related: Dare County begins America’s 250th commemoration

The Dare A250 Faire was originally scheduled at the Wright Brothers National Memorial in Kill Devil Hills, but was relocated to Manteo and Roanoke Island Festival Park “to allow all aspects of the planning committee’s vision to be included in the celebration,” organizers said in a press release in late February. The park “highlights the area’s rich history as the ‘Birthplace of America,’ with the historic Elizabeth II serving as a meaningful backdrop to the festivities.”

The Elizabeth II is a representational 16th-century English merchant ship from the 1585 Roanoke voyage berthed at the park, where a settlement site illustrates an English military colony from the era.

Hester urged those interested in attending the celebrations to visit DareA250.org/faire for full event details, as well as information about other A250 initiatives, including the interactive map, and additional events taking place throughout the year.

The Dare County committee organizes events under the umbrella of the state’s official celebration, America 250 NC, an initiative of the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

The celebration committee launched earlier this year a passport program and an interactive online map to share the county’s history.

Musical performances

Entertainment begins at 11:10 a.m. Saturday at the All-American Stage in downtown Manteo with Cypress Society Singers & Dancers, representing the Lumbee and Kahtehnuaka Tuscarora Eastern Woodland Native nations.

An opening ceremony follows at 11:45 a.m., then attendees can listen to live music throughout the afternoon, including a jazz performance by Connected, Ruth Wyand to perform roots Americana and the Daniel Jordan Band to play Southern country-rock.

The Dare County All-American Award Ceremony starts at 3 p.m. The ceremony will recognize participants in a variety of categories, including patriotic attire, patriotic pet, most decorated business and boat displays, as well as Dare A250 Scholarship Awards. Participants should report behind the stage at 2:30 p.m. for judging.

Performances scheduled for the Magnolia Freedom Stage feature Ascension Music Academy, Shiloh and Enrique with the Mustang Music Outreach Program, and the OBX Jazzmen.

Street entertainment

Roving patriotic performers will wander throughout downtown Manteo from 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m., including stilt walkers, a bubble artist, a juggler and a hula hooper.

Historical interpreters from The Lost Colony, Roanoke Island Festival Park and Chicamacomico Lifesaving Station and more than 60 local artisans and community organizations will be on-site. Several local businesses and restaurants will offer special events and discounts. A list of visitors is available on the event website.

Student musicians from First Flight Middle School and Manteo Middle School will perform on Sir Walter Raleigh Street at noon.

Storytelling stage

The historic Pioneer Theater, 109 Budleigh St., Manteo, is hosting a storytelling series highlighting the people, traditions and defining moments of the Outer Banks.

Moderated by Miles Daniels, the program organizers are billing as “a marquee element of the Dare A250 Faire,” will feature the following four distinguished speakers sharing personal insights and historical perspectives:

• 11:30 a.m. Clark Twiddy: “Vision, Risk, and Reinvention: How the Outer Banks Became a Destination.”
• 12:30 p.m. Robin Daniels Holt: “The Families Who Stayed: Generational Memory and Cultural Continuity.”
• 1:30 p.m. Nancy Gray: “Water, Work, and Survival: The Working Coast of the Outer Banks.”
• 2:30 p.m. Ken Mann: “Stories of the Outer Banks: Voices, Characters, and Coastal Memory.”

Archival film and video presentations will be shown between speakers.

For young artists

Children can add their own touch from 11 a.m. to 3:30 p.m. to a large patriotic painting. Local painter Brad Price is to enhance the artwork before going on permanent display at the Outer Banks Community Foundation. 

Families can also enjoy coloring a rendering of the first governor of an English colony in America, called a “Flat John White,” and festive tablecloths. Placemats that can be colored will be available at participating businesses throughout Manteo. 

Star-Spangled Spectacular Finale

The Star-Spangled Spectacular performances at Roanoke Island Festival Park will begin at 3:30 p.m. with Just Playing Dixieland, followed by an opening ceremony at 4:15 p.m. and an Earth, Wind & Fire tribute by the Ray Howard Band at 4:30 p.m.

The day will conclude with the Dare A250 Grand Finale at 6:15 p.m. with a multimedia patriotic production with a community choir and tribute.

Volunteers needed

With the committee expecting thousands to visit downtown Manteo and Roanoke Island Festival Park for the two events Saturday, there’s a need for volunteers to help oversee parking areas, serve as a friendly point of contact for guests, and to ensure everything runs smoothly in each designated lot, according to the county.

“No special experience is required, just a welcoming attitude and a willingness to help,” and volunteering is a way to “be part of a once-in-a-generation community celebration,” organizers said.

Volunteers can register online for any of the multiple shifts and activities or contact contact Patty O’Sullivan at patricia.o’sullivan@darenc.gov.

Dare County, Manteo, Outer Banks Visitors Bureau, Southern Bank, The Don & Catharine Bryan Cultural Series and Roanoke Island Festival Park are sponsors of the celebration.

North Carolina State Archives’ staff plan to explore during an hourlong webinar the historic records of various ethnic groups coming to North Carolina from the late 19th century to the present.

Scheduled for noon Wednesday, April 22, register in advance using the Zoom link to participate in the program offered at no charge.

For the program, America 250 Educator Alana Gomez will highlight the stories of several individuals and patterns in various counties with an overview of  “‘Alien,’ Naturalization and Citizenship Records (1880s-1950s).”

Government records archivist Evanna Derkach will focus on the papers of Hugh MacRae, a businessman and white supremacist who was a leading figure in the 1898 Wilmington coup and who also planned six rural farming communities in southeastern North Carolina. MacRae recruited 800 immigrants to populate these areas during the early 20th century.

Oral historian John Horan will discuss the launch of the “New Americans” oral history project, which captures the perspectives of more recent newcomers to this state with their own voices, according to the state.

All three panelists are first- and second-generation Americans themselves, representing Italian, Latin American, Lebanese, and Ukrainian descent.

The State Archives is part of the N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, which is leading the America 250 NC, North Carolina’s commemoration of the United States’ 250th anniversary.

America 250 NC focuses on two broad concepts. The commemorative themes explore “Revolutionary US,” or the historical events of the Revolution and “North Carolina and When Are We US?” that explores the ideas of freedom, civic responsibility, overcoming challenges, and change as we lean into the ideals of democracy. This program is part of the “When Are We US?” theme.

For more information about America 250 NC, visit america250.nc.gov.

For more information, contact Adrienne Berney at adrienne.berney@dncr.nc.gov or 919-814-6863.

Editor’s note: Coastal Review regularly features the work of North Carolina historian David Cecelski, who writes about the history, culture and politics of the North Carolina coast. More of his work can be found on his website.

I first listened to a special group of interviews with African American community elders in Pamlico County almost 20 years ago, but I have never forgotten them. They helped me to see history as more than dates and wars, the rise and fall of the powerful, and the stuff of headlines.

They helped me to understand that history is all those things, but it is also the paths of our souls and the life of the spirit.

The oral history project was called “Preserving the African American Experience in Pamlico County, North Carolina.”

The project was led by Ms. Linda Simmons-Henry, a scholar, archivist and public historian whom I have known and admired for many years.

Ms. Simmons-Henry was uniquely well prepared to lead the project. At that time, she was the director of special collections and the senior archivist at Saint Augustine’s College in Raleigh.

She is currently the dean of the library and archives at Texas College, a historically Black colleges and universities in Tyler, Texas.

She is also a native of New Bern and has always remained deeply attached to the African American community there and in Pamlico County, just to the east of New Bern.

Over the spring and summer of 2007, Ms. Simmons-Henry and a talented team of local volunteers conducted oral history interviews with 20 of Pamlico County’s African American elders.

I found the interviews to be a rare treasure. Taken together, they are a compelling and intimate portrait of African American life in Pamlico County over most of the 20th century.

The whole tenor of the interviews is special. When you listen to them, you can tell that the project’s volunteers and the elders were people who knew and cared for one another.

In the voices of the project’s volunteers, I heard respect and reverence for the elders whom they were interviewing. I also heard a yearning to learn from their wisdom and experience.

In the voices of the elders, I heard a special kind of care. They talk about history, but they also sound like wise grandparents gently sharing love and guidance with those of a younger generation whom they know will need all the help they can get in this fragile, broken world of ours.

* * *

I first listened to the interviews back in 2007. The project’s volunteers had organized a banquet to celebrate and honor the community elders who had so graciously shared their stories with them.

I had been invited to say a few words at that banquet. To help me to prepare for the occasion, Ms. Simmons-Henry made a copy of the interviews for me.

At that time, the project’s volunteers had not yet transcribed the audio tapes, so I could not read transcripts of them. In a way, it was nicer: it meant that I had to listen to them, which I did, and it was a delight.

It made me feel as if I was sitting down with the elders and listening to their stories along with the project’s volunteers.

The interviews and transcripts are now available both at the New Bern-Craven County Public Library in New Bern and in the Southern Oral History Program’s collection at the Southern Historical Collection at University of North Carolina Chapel Hill.

* * *

The project’s oldest interviewee was a woman named Annie Rachel Squires. She was born in a little community called Maribel, on the Bay River, in 1908. At the time of her interview, she was 99 years old.

Ms. Squires and the other community elders shared stories about many different parts of Pamlico County’s history.

They talked about their teachers and schools. They spoke of childhood joys. They remembered long, brutally hard days of digging in potato fields and shucking oysters in the local canneries.

“All I know about my life was work, work, work,” I remember one woman saying, I believe in Vandemere, a small village in Pamlico County.

The community elders also recounted tales of the local struggle for voting rights and racial justice in Pamlico County.

Some remembered the landmark school desegregation lawsuit that black citizens in the coastal town of Oriental filed in 1951. Two or three recalled incidents involving the Ku Klux Klan.

Others told stories about serving in the Second World War and the Vietnam War. Yet others remembered the Great Depression.

My curiosity encompassed all of those historical subjects, but they are not what I remember most about the interviews.

What struck me most deeply about the elders’ words when I first listened to them back in 2007, and what I still find most unforgettable about them now, is how much they are a history of faith and the spirit.

* * *

For instance, I will never forget the project’s interview with the Rev. Kenneth M. Bell Sr., who at that time was still the minister at the Green Hill Missionary Baptist Church in Bayboro.

He was the only church pastor whom the project’s volunteers interviewed, but when it came to matters of the spirit, his words were very similar to most of the other elderly men and women that were interviewed.

Like Rev. Bell, they spoke of their faith and their struggles to know and understand God more fully.

They shared stories of Sunday schools and Bible study groups. They described a hunger to understand more fully what Scripture had to teach them about our purpose here on Earth, the nature of our existence, and what we are called to do for one another.

Rev. Bell was interviewed by Ms. Sandra Mae Hawkins, one of the project’s most devoted volunteers. At one point in the interview, she asked Rev. Bell what he considered the most important event in his life.

He did not hesitate for even a second.

He said it was the day in his boyhood that Mrs. N.F. Harper sang “Pass Me Not O Gentle Savior” at Green Hill Missionary Baptist Church and he accepted Jesus Christ as his Lord and savior.

* * *

When Rev. Bell spoke of Mrs. Harper singing “Pass Me Not O Gentle Savior,” he was remembering a worship service 60 or 70 years earlier.

Born in Bayboro in 1941, he was the youngest of 12 children.

When Sandra Made Hawkins talked with him, he explained that he had grown up in hard times. However, he did not linger on his family’s hardships or the things they did without.

Instead, he talked about his father, who was a farmer and a devout member of the local African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church.

His father was not the pastor of the church, but he had been a missionary. Rev. Bell explained that when his father was not in his fields, he strove to live the Bible’s teachings.

He visited the sick, lonely, and down and out. He cut firewood for elderly neighbors. After hog killings, he shared the meat with those who had none.

In the interview, Rev. Bell recalled that his father’s face had been disfigured in a hunting accident when he was a boy.

When I heard that part of his life story, I wondered if his father’s malformity had helped to teach him, and maybe his son too, to look at people’s souls, not on that which is only skin deep.

Rev. Bell remembered that people in Pamlico County often referred to his father as a prophet. He said that his father understood how to listen for God’s word, and again and again, God spoke to him. God made him promises, and those promises, Rev. Bell said, came true.

He was not describing the world that we watch on TV or read about in the New York Times: he was describing a world where miracles happened.

 “He never talked much to us except about the Bible,” Rev. Bell recalled.

He spoke with great admiration and appreciation for his father. On the other hand, listening to his interview, I also got the feeling that he felt as if his father may have left some important things unsaid.

* * *

I was also taken with the project’s interview with a gentleman named Charlie Styron. Mr. Styron was born in Oriental in 1933.

I wish I had known him. He spoke with a beautiful voice, full of kindness.

In reflecting on his life, Mr. Styron described how he had always worked with his hands. Listening to him talk about his life, I got the impression that there was not much that he could not do with those hands.

For many years, he had worked at a sawmill and a veneer plant. But at different times, he explained, he had made his living as a heavy equipment operator, a bricklayer, a carpenter, and an electrician.

After he retired, he said, he found his greatest joy in playing with his grandchildren. He kept active, too. At the time of the interview, he was still operating a lawn mower repair business out of his home.

Passersby often saw him singing hymns and praying while he worked on the lawnmowers.

Sandra Mae Hawkins was also the project interviewer who spoke with Mr. Styron.

When she asked him, “What have been some important events of your life?” he, like Rev. Bell, did not hesitate even for a moment: “Well, to be born from above, that was the most important event,” he told her.

* * *

The project’s interview with a woman named Eula Felton Monk also stood out to me. Ms. Monk had grown up in Mesic, a rural, predominantly African American community on the Bay River.

I had a good friend there when I was young, Ed Credle, who was Mesic’s first mayor. Listening to Ms. Monk’s stories gave me a special joy because they brought back memories of Ed and his neighbors whom I got to know in Mesic back in those days, good people, all.

When Ms. Monk was a girl, she recounted, her father had been the captain of a shrimp trawler. He worked on the Bay River and out in Pamlico Sound, but he also followed the shrimp as far south as Key West.

At the time of her interview, Mrs. Monk had been a teacher for 43 years. She had retired from teaching full-time, but she was still working part time as a substitute teacher in the local public schools.

When asked about her childhood, she recalled long days of working in the fields: chopping cotton, digging potatoes, picking tobacco.

Her family worked on local farms, but also traveled to fields as far away as Merritt, Arapahoe and Aurora.

She spoke of her schoolteachers with great reverence. She had endless admiration for how they did so much, and cared so much for their students, back in those days of Jim Crow when Pamlico County’s schools were segregated by race and so little was given to the African American schools.

Mrs. Monk said that she would never forget the great debt that she owed those teachers.

When the interviewer asked her if she was religious, she, too, was matter of fact:

“I believe in God and I believe in being a doer of His word…, (and I) try very hard to do those things daily that He says that I should do in His world.”

The interviewer then asked a question with a kind of directness with respect to faith and religion that I do not often see in oral history projects.

She asked if Mrs. Monk believed in Jesus Christ.

Mrs. Monk was not caught off guard by the question in the least, and her reply was direct:

 “Oh, yes I do, as my Lord and my Savior. He is my Savior. Yes.”

When the interviewer asked her how she put her faith into action in her daily life — another question I do not often hear in oral history interviews — Mrs. Monk turned to Scripture.

“Second Timothy 2:15 says to study to show thyself approved of God, not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth. I study the word of God, and then I pray.”

She also said:

“And the Bible says we should visit the sick…, the Bible says that we should reach out to those who are less fortunate than we are… and to love thy neighbor as thyself.”

She said that she strove to do all those things, though of course she acknowledged that she was far from perfect.

Then she said:

“I love God with all my heart and all my mind, and all my soul. And I would like to say, the greatest point in my life, the most important event in my life, is when I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior, when I became saved.”

* * *

As I listened to their voices, I found a comforting sense of familiarity in the way that the lives of the Pamlico County elders were entwined so tightly and so seamlessly with their faith and their churches.

I grew up just across the river from Pamlico County, and I found that their voices reminded me again and again of home and the lives of my family and the people around whom I was raised.

* * *

There was a kind of cadence to the stories of their lives, like a gentle heartbeat, held steady by their knowledge of themselves as spiritual beings and kept in time by daily prayer, Bible study, worship services, Sunday school, church suppers, choir practices, baptism, weddings and funerals.

So many little things in these interviews caught my attention, and they did so in a way that, even all these years later, they remained fixed in my memory.

Listening to the interview with Annie Squires, the 99-year-old woman I mentioned earlier, I could feel how her heart filled with joy when she played the piano at her church in Maribel.

She told the young woman who interviewed her that she had been the church’s pianist for more than half a century.

Likewise, in my mind’s eye, I could see Roosevelt Stokes Jr., another of the interviewees, as he made his weekly rounds among the frail and sick in Grantsboro’s nursing home.

He had never been a pastor or a missionary at a church, but he had his own ministry visiting those people who lived in the nursing home.

On the days of his nursing home visits, Mr. Stokes would stop and read the Bible to any of the patients who desired him to do so.

He would hold their hand, and often they would pray together. Sometimes one of the nurses would join them.

His words brought back memories for me, and maybe helped me appreciate what it was like for Mr. Stokes to read the Bible by those bedsides, and how much it might have meant to those who lay there. Because, now and then, I have been called on to read the Bible at a bedside, too.

* * *

I know these are just little moments, but even some of the passing comments in the interviews made a deep impression on me.

For instance, another of the interviewees, Emma Bell, recalled how, when she was a small child, her mother began every day by giving a Bible verse to her and to each of her brothers and sisters.

They would read the Bible passage at breakfast.

I could see them: a mother and her children, early in the mornings of what I am sure were busy days, taking a few minutes to recite Bible verses before going out into this stormy world of ours.

I also loved a little something that one of the other interviewees, Sabia Ruth Gibbs, said.

Ms. Gibbs grew up in Maribel. Way up in her 90s, she was one of the oldest people who shared her life story with the project’s volunteers.

All the same, when she was asked to pause for a moment and think about the long span of her life, one of the first things she did was reach far back in time, as if to another world, and describe the joy of singing in the choir at St. Galilee Missionary Baptist Church when she was a girl.

She remembered it like it was yesterday.

It was a memory, in her telling of it, that seemed to be made of pure light.

* * *

I doubt that I am much different from anyone else. When I am driving through the countryside, as I did last night, on my way to my family’s homeplace on state Highway 101, I go by all the homes and see the lights on and I wonder how the people that live there are doing, and do they feel loved, and, if they pray, what they pray for at night before they fall asleep.

I wonder about their prayers, and all that goes unsaid in life, and the whispered words we have between us and our maker.

At those times, I think about the quiet joys for which we show gratitude at that late night hour. I think too of the fears that go unsaid everywhere else, the dreams that we keep to ourselves, the hungers that can’t be put into words.

The interviews in “Preserving the African American Experience in Pamlico County, North Carolina” are an invaluable historical record of life on the North Carolina coast throughout the 20th century.

The more times that passes, the more special they will seem, the more important they will be.

I cherish them for that reason but also because they help me to remember that our path through life, our history, is partly what can be seen and heard and touched, and partly what cannot.

A North Carolina-based nonprofit is offering one lucky winner an opportunity to get away — really away — from it all for a few days.

FPTower Inc. is raffling off a four-night, five-day mission immersive eco-adventure at Frying Pan Tower for its 2026 “Save a Life” fundraising campaign to strengthen coastal rescue capabilities while supporting offshore research operations.

Participants of the raffle will be entered for a chance to win a stay on the former U.S. Coast Guard light station, which sits a little more than 30 miles off the coast from the mouth of the Cape Fear River.

Funds will be used to purchase and donate four U Safe self-propelled, remotely controlled, lifesaving buoys to the coastal communities that receive the most public nominations through raffle participation.

Each raffle ticket equates to one “coastal point.” The top four communities with the most points will receive a buoy.

“This campaign represents a direct investment in public safety,” FPTower Inc. Executive Director Richard Neal stated in a release. “By combining community engagement with lifesaving technology, we are helping coastal communities enhance rescue readiness while continuing our offshore research and maritime safety mission.”

The winner and up to three guests will be provided charter vessel transportation to and from the tower, private ocean-facing accommodations, chef-prepared meals, marine exploration opportunities, a guided tour of the historic station, and world-class stargazing.

The tower, which was completed in November 1964 and retired from active Coast Guard service in 2004, now serves as a platform for environmental research, coastal resilience initiatives, and maritime outreach.

The raffle runs through 11:59 p.m. Memorial Day, May 25. The winner will be announced at 9 a.m. May 26.

This year, the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor wanted to shake things up, get away from what has been their traditional meeting formula, and instead offer an up-close and personal, historically engaging experience.

The nonprofit’s North Carolina Summit invites you to take part in the “Black Church Crawl,” an immersive tour celebrating the history of Black churches that have housed decades of congregants in Brunswick and New Hanover counties.

Scheduled from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. April 18, the tour will allow participants to step within the walls of three historic Black churches, where speakers will delve into the stories of how these cultural landmarks came to be and their significance as spaces of faith, fellowship and community.

“Although you might live in a certain area, you might not be really invested in what’s going on,” said Nora Williams, Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor public relations and marketing campaign coordinator. “We wanted something that was happening in their community and something that they also could get involved in. Of course, anyone is allowed to participate, but we felt like this would be a great way for people to learn more about themselves and their history and the culture.”

The summit in North Carolina kicks off the first of four meetings the commission-led nonprofit holds annually in each of the states in which the corridor spans.

The corridor is one of the largest of the 62 designated national heritage areas in the country, encompassing about 2,200 miles through coastal counties from Florida to southeastern North Carolina.

“We’re one of the ones that primarily focus on people,” Williams said.

The Gullah Geechee are the descendants of West and Central Africans ripped from their native land and shipped to America, where they were enslaved to work on the coastal rice, Sea Island cotton and indigo plantations of Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas.

Their enslavement on isolated coastal plantations and barrier islands helped them retain many of their indigenous African traditions, which remain today through spiritual traditions, arts and crafts, and food.

They even created their own language, Gullah, a mixture of West African dialects and English that is not spoken anywhere else in the world.

Congress enacted the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor and the commission established to oversee it on Oct. 12, 2006, through the National Heritage Act of 2006 with the aim of recognizing, sustaining, and celebrating the Gullah Geechee’s contributions to American culture and history.

The nonprofit assists the four state governments and local governments within those states in interpreting the Gullah Geechee’s story and preserving historic sites, data and artifacts associated with its people and culture.

One of those sites sits just off Cedar Hill Road in Navassa, the first stop of the church crawl, an event that will feature public historian, performance artist and Gullah Geechee’s own Tyanna Parker-West, Wilmington native and WilmingtoNColor founder Cedric Harrison, and Pastor Derrick Parker.

Just last year, a multiyear, more than $1 million effort to restore Reaves Chapel, a one-room church built on the bluffs of the Cape Fear River in Brunswick County by people formerly enslaved at Cedar Hill Plantation more than a century ago, was completed.

The little chapel in Navassa was eventually relocated by its congregation, using logs and a team of oxen, inland on land Ed Reaves, a former Cedar Hill Plantation slave, donated to the church in 1911. The church eventually became affiliated with the African Methodist Episcopal denomination and remained an AME church until its doors closed permanently in the mid-2000s.

Today, it is a tangible testament to those who built it, maintained it, and worshiped in it.

The crawl will continue across the Cape Fear River to downtown Wilmington, where Chestnut Street Presbyterian Church, the oldest African American presbyterian church in North Carolina, and St. Stephen African Methodist Episcopal Church continue to welcome congregants.

Services have been held at Chestnut Street Presbyterian Church for more than 150 years since it was erected during the third great awakening, a time in the United States of religious activism and social reform that occurred from the late 1850s to the early 20^th century.

Roughly a third of a mile away, congregants have filled the pews in St. Stephen AME Church’s current sanctuary since its completion in 1886. The building that stands at 501 Red Cross Street today replaced the original, simple wooden chapel whose members, about 1,500 by 1879, had outgrown its sanctuary.

“The congregation of the popular church was a powerful influence on the community and the state,” according to the North Carolina Department of Cultural and Natural Resources.

When President William Howard Taft visited Wilmington in 1909, he stopped at the church to make a speech to African American schoolchildren.

Williams said in a telephone interview last week that heritage corridor officials chose to hold the church crawl in the Wilmington area because the nonprofit organization wants to preserve and celebrate the Gullah Geechee community in New Hanover and Brunswick counties.

“We understand that Wilmington and the surrounding area is growing very fast,” she said. “Our goal as the corridor is to preserve and amplify the Gullah Geechee community in these areas, so we felt like this was a great time to highlight that community.”

Registration for the Black Church Crawl is $25, which includes transportation and a lunch featuring the culinary flare of two-time James Beard nominee Chef Keith Rhodes, owner of the wildly popular Catch in Wilmington and Voyce Bistro, his newest restaurant featuring coastal cuisine infused with Caribbean flavors.

“We would love for it to fill up and have as many people as possible,” Williams said of the church crawl. “We’re flexible and we have the ability to provide more transportation if more people are interested.”

She anticipates the organization will hold future events as part of its state summits, adding “We do see this growing and being a more interactive experience as opposed to you come in and it’s a presentation. I think we really want people to experience these spaces, experience the people.”

Part of an ongoing series on North Carolina’s observance of America’s 250th.

When Halifax was founded in 1760 on the south bank of the Roanoke River, the town became a thriving commercial and social hub, largely because of its access to the Albemarle Sound, but as the American Revolution took hold in the 1770s, the town found itself at the epicenter of North Carolina’s move from British rule to independence.

North Carolina’s Fourth Provincial Congress met in Halifax in the spring of 1776, when delegates from across the colony unanimously adopted a document recommending freedom from England that was later called the “Halifax Resolves,” according to state historians.

“North Carolina played a significant role in winning America’s independence,” Gov. Josh Stein said in a statement. “The creation and adoption of the Halifax Resolves on April 12, 1776 was the first official action by any colony calling for independence from Great Britain, forever cementing North Carolina’s place in history as ‘First in Freedom.’”

The state will commemorate the 250th anniversary of the document with “Prelude to Revolution: Halifax Resolves Days,” at the Historic Halifax State Historic Site in Halifax County.

Scheduled for 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. Friday through Sunday, there will be living history vignettes, lectures, live colonial music, Tryon Palace Fife and Drum Corps performances, historic trades and weapons demonstrations, a military parade, food trucks, vendors, exhibits, tours and themed photo booths.

The site, which holds a smaller-scale observation each year in April, features several authentically restored and furnished buildings including the 1838 Jail, the 1790 Eagle Tavern and the Underground Railroad Trail. 

Halifax Resolves Days is a signature event for America 250 NC, the state’s official initiative led by the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources to commemorate the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence and celebrate the state’s role in the American Revolution.

Signature events like this “honor our state’s pivotal role in shaping the American story. From historic reenactments to cultural festivals, these events will inspire, educate, and unite communities across the state.”

N.C. Department of Natural & Cultural Resources Assistant Communications Director Michele Walker told Coastal Review that some event highlights include a ceremony with the state-recognized Haliwa-Saponi Indian Tribe, a living history reenactment of the Provincial delegates debating independence, the annual Halifax Resolves Day Ceremony April 12 at the colonial courthouse site, and live music and a drone show at dark on King Street.

A full schedule is available on the event website.

As part of “Halifax Resolves Days,” the state will officially open Historic Halifax State Historic Site’s newly renovated visitor center at 25 St. David St., “unveiling a modern facility and a new exhibit detailing Halifax’s significant role in the state’s history,” according to the release.

Starting Friday and continuing through Oct. 6, visitors to the center will have the unique opportunity to view the Halifax Resolves document on loan from the National Archives in Washington, D.C.

This is the first time the Resolves document – the only known copy to exist — is believed to be returning to Halifax since it was sent to the Continental Congress in Philadelphia in 1776. The State Archives of North Carolina holds the journal copy of the Resolves that will be displayed in Halifax this fall, the state said.

“The opportunity to view this 250-year-old document in the place where it was created is a truly once-in-a-lifetime experience,” N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources Secretary Pamela B. Cashwell said in a statement. “The Halifax Resolves is one of the most important pieces of our state’s story — its date is emblazoned on our state flag — and we’re so excited for North Carolinians to see it in person.”

Halifax’s role in the American Revolution

The Roanoke River, which is one of the five largest rivers in the Southeast that flows from the foothills of the Appalachian into the Atlantic Ocean, begins in Montgomery County, Virginia, enters North Carolina in Warren County and flows through Halifax, Northampton, Bertie, Martin, Washington counties, before emptying into Batchelor’s Bay of Albemarle Sound, according to state documents.

English colonists from Virginia in the early 18^th century settled in the Roanoke River Valley and began farming the fertile land. In the following decades, a plantation system evolved that relied on slave labor to grow wheat, corn, peas, tobacco, and other staple crops for markets outside of the colony.

At the behest of the merchants, Halifax was founded in 1757 to use to their advantage the river’s access to the Albemarle Sound and its ports. Though a smallpox epidemic in 1758 stalled settlement, the town was settled in 1760 as the seat of Halifax County, which was designated Jan. 1, 1759. There were nearly 60 houses and public buildings at the time.

“This new town was at a major crossroads between North-South trading paths between the American colonies and West-East trading paths between the coast and the interior of the state. With this advantage, the small town quickly became a major trading center and river port for good moving between the backcountry, the plantations, and Virginia,” the state continues.

Not long after, the town became the backdrop for monumental political events during the American Revolution.

After the patriot victory Feb. 28, 1776, at Moores Creek Bridge in Pender County, the battle that effectively ended British rule in the colony, 83 delegates met in Halifax April 4, 1776, for the Fourth Provincial Congress of North Carolina.

Related: Rainy remembrance marks Revolution’s first decisive win

The delegates unanimously adopted on April 12, 1776, the document now called the “Halifax Resolves.”

“The Halifax Resolves were the first official action by any of the 13 colonies to call for independence from Great Britain. It is acknowledged as an important precursor to the Declaration of Independence,” Walker told Coastal Review.

The document gave William Hooper, Joseph Hewes and John Penn, the state’s representatives to the Second Continental Congress, authority to vote for independence. The Second Continental Congress was the governing body for the colonial governments that coordinated resistance to British rule during the American Revolution.

The Fourth Provincial Congress adjourned on May 15, 1776, after appointing a single Council of Safety to rule the entire colony. While the council was meeting in Halifax on July 22, 1776, the group learned that the Declaration of Independence had been signed in Philadelphia on July 4, 1776.

“The council adopted a resolution declaring North Carolinians ‘absolved from all Allegiance to the British Crown’,” according to the historic site’s webpage.

Cornelius Harnett, a resident and Revolutionary patriot, was selected for the North Carolina’s first public reading of the Declaration of Independence to the town of Halifax Aug. 1, 1776.

The Fifth Provincial Congress assembled in Halifax that November, and by Dec. 18, the delegation had approved the new state’s first constitution. As its last official act Dec. 23, 1776, the congress appointed Richard Caswell as the first governor of the State of North Carolina.

“This one small town of Halifax saw the adoption for national independence, the first state constitution and the election of the first governor after colonial rule. Clearly Halifax was a front runner for the independence movement in not only North Carolina, but the entire nation as well,” according to the site.

Walker said that this was the state’s big moment in Revolutionary history, and Historic Halifax State Historic Site preserves this important action for all North Carolinians.

Visitor center renovation

Division of State Historic Sites Public Information Officer Terra Schramm told Coastal Review that in 1976, during the nation’s Bicentennial, this visitor center first opened its doors to welcome guests to Historic Halifax State Historic Site, which was established in 1965.

The North Carolina General Assembly appropriated $5.2 million to renovate the visitor center in 2022 and to complete the restoration of the William R. Davie House, a part of the historic site, in time for the nation’s 250th anniversary this year, she continued.

“The renovation of this building is now complete the interior has been thoroughly replaced, new climate control systems installed, the building foundation sealed, a clerestory added to light the lobby, and the conditioned interior space expanded from 4,900 square feet to just over 6,000 square feet,” Schramm said.

Of note, is a specially designed document display case that has been built to meet security and environmental control standards outlined by the National Archives and Records Administration.

“The case will be used to exhibit a rotation of significant historical documents, starting (appropriately) with the Halifax Resolves,” Schramm explained in her email response.

Clearscapes of Raleigh was hired to design and oversee the work, with Calvin Davinport Inc. of Rocky Mount serving as the general contractor. New historical exhibits for the building were designed by Design Dimensions of Raleigh, she said.

Currituck County’s America 250 NC Task Force has launched a yearlong challenge to visit 10 of North Carolina’s lighthouses as part of the country’s celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

Called the NC Lighthouse Challenge, participants must visit the 10 sites and submit their photos with the lighthouse visible to nc.lighthouse.visit@gmail.com by the Dec. 31 deadline. Those who complete the challenge will be awarded a personalized certificate from Currituck County upon completion, and earn a free lighthouse climb.

Organizers noted that Hatteras, Lookout, Ocracoke, and Bodie are not offering the free lighthouse climb because of either long-term maintenance or National Park Service rules.

Register at https://www.eventcreate.com/e/nc-lighthouse-visit to receive the official set of rules.

“Long before modern navigation systems, lighthouse keepers and members of the U.S. Life-Saving Service stood watch along North Carolina’s treacherous coastline. Their dedication—often in isolation and through severe weather—helped guide ships safely and protect countless lives,” organizers said in a release.

“These early services were eventually unified under the U.S. Coast Guard in 1939, continuing a legacy of vigilance and service that remains today. The NC Lighthouse Challenge honors that legacy, inviting participants to walk in the footsteps of those who helped ‘light the way’ for a growing nation,” they continued.

The 10 historic sites include the following:

• Old Baldy on Bald Head Island, built 1817.
• Ocracoke Lighthouse, 1823.
• Cape Lookout Lighthouse, 1859.
• Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, 1870.
• Bodie Island Lighthouse, 1872, on Cape Hatteras National Seashore.
• Currituck Beach Lighthouse, 1875.
• Oak Island Lighthouse, 1958.
• Roanoke River Lighthouse, 1886, in Edenton.
• Roanoke River Lighthouse 1867 replica in Plymouth.
• Roanoke Marshes Lighthouse 1877 replica in Manteo.

Tony Cerri, a member of the county’s celebration task force, said that at its core, the challenge is about more than visiting beautiful places.

“It’s about recognizing the vital role North Carolina’s lighthouses — and the people who served in them — played in guiding commerce, protecting lives, and supporting the growth of our nation,” Cerri added in the release.

Currituck County’s America 250 NC Task Force is one of the county committees that plan and organize events, projects, and initiatives at the county level as part of America 250 NC. The state’s official commemoration of America’s 250th anniversary is a program of the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

Editor’s note: Coastal Review regularly features the work of North Carolina historian David Cecelski, who writes about the history, culture and politics of the North Carolina coast. More of his work can be found on his website.

Earlier today, March 20, I gave a lecture at the annual Whales and Whaling Symposium in Beaufort. It is a special event, and one that I treasure.

Sponsored by the Bonehenge Whaling Center, which is part of the North Carolina Maritime Museum, the symposium invites scientists, historians, and the public to come together and share their knowledge of whales and the history of whaling on the North Carolina coast and throughout the Atlantic.

My lecture was titled “Nye’s Clock Oil and the Bottlenose Dolphin Fishery at Hatteras Island.”

The photograph above was one of the illustrations that I used in my lecture. It shows one of the crews that was hunting bottlenose dolphins on Hatteras Island in the winter of 1907 to 1908.

This crew worked for the William F. Nye Co., a New Bedford, Massachusetts, firm that operated a bottlenose dolphin fishery on Hatteras Island between 1907 and 1928.

Arising in New Bedford when it was the whale oil capital of the world, the William F. Nye Co. was the country’s largest maker of highly specialized whale and dolphin oils uniquely suited for lubricating clocks, watches, chronometers, scientific instruments, and other delicate machinery.

The company did not obtain those oils from whale blubber, but from two anatomical structures only found in the heads of bottlenose dolphins, pilot whales, belugas and other small-toothed whales.

Specifically, the William F. Nye Co.’s “oilers” extracted those oils from the fatty tissues in the animals’ lower jawbones and from an organ in their foreheads that is called the “melon.” 

Both play central roles in the echolocation ability of those whales and dolphins. That is, they are key to the way that they navigate, find prey and generally “see” underwater by emitting sound waves and interpreting their echos when they reflect off objects around them.

On Hatteras Island, the company’s workers butchered the dolphins on the beach. They then did a small degree of refinement at a facility on Durant’s Island, a knoll on the sound side of the island.

They then shipped the oil to the company’s factory in New Bedford for far more extensive refining.

Between the American Civil War, which spanned from 1861 to 1865, and 1900, the William F. Nye Co. acquired the largest part of its supply of those oils from pilot whale strandings on Cape Cod and Long Island.

In many of those cases, local fishermen herded the whales into shallow waters where they were trapped and grounded.

To establish a more stable supply of those oils, William F. Nye’s son Joseph came south and established the bottlenose dolphin fishery on Hatteras Island in 1907. He recruited local fishermen and seafarers, many of whom had been involved in earlier bottlenose fisheries on Hatteras.

Hatteras Island was the site of the oldest and longest running bottlenose dolphin fishery in North America.

At the National Museum of Natural History’s Paleobiology Archive, I found records indicating that there had been a commercial bottlenose dolphin fishery on Hatteras Island on and off since at least 1851.

To oversee the Hatteras fishery, Joseph Nye employed a third-generation Hatteras oiler, William C. Rollinson.

Rollinson had been involved in hunting bottlenose dolphins most of his life, as had his father and grandfather before him.

His father, John W. Rollinson, had been superintendent of a bottlenose dolphin fishery at Hatteras that had been operated by a company based in Wilmington, Delaware, in the 1880s and 1890s.

Even further back in time, his grandfather had been captain of a bottlenose dolphin crew at Hatteras Island before the Civil War.

It was hard, dirty work. When I was younger, and some of the men were still alive, they described it as a very grim business, the kind of job that one only did if there was no other way to make a living. But that was often the case on Hatteras Island in those days.

The William F. Nye Co.’s bottlenose dolphin fishery remained on Hatteras Island until 1928 or 1929.

I do not want to give the whole story away here, but if you want to learn more, the North Carolina Maritime Museum has already posted my lecture on its YouTube channel.

The whole symposium was wonderful. The amazing Vicki Szabo, who teaches at Western Carolina University, gave a fascinating presentation on the extensive mythology and scientific knowledge of whales in Medieval Iceland and other parts off the North Atlantic.

Keith Rittmaster, the founder and driving force behind the museum’s Bonehenge Whaling Center, gave an extremely informative overview of the 35 species of cetaceans that have been documented on the North Carolina coast.

Keith also discussed the conservation challenges ahead for whales and dolphins on our coast, and he charted some the exciting, day in and day out work that is happening at the Bonehenge Whaling Center, also in Beaufort.

Another exciting presentation was by marine biologist Tommy Tucker of the Coastal Studies Center on Cape Cod. With a contagious passion, they are devoted to understanding and raising public awareness of the critically endangered Rice’s whale, which is only found in the Gulf of Mexico.

Their presentation was brilliant. In addition to studying Rice’s whales, Tommy also uses arts and crafts to nurture interest in them, including this tapestry in which each depiction of a Rice’s whale represents one of the 51 Rice’s whales currently known to be surviving in the Gulf of Mexico.

All of these presentations are now available on the museum’s YouTube channel. I don’t know about mine, but the presentations by Vicki, Keith, and Tommy are not to be missed!

I found the whole day inspiring. It was so encouraging to be at a museum where the staff are so dedicated to telling the story of North Carolina’s coastal history and do so in such a professional way.

The museum’s auditorium was full of people from many walks of life, including scientists, historians, students, fishermen and women, and all sorts of other lovers of whales and the sea.

All were coming together to discover more about these glorious creatures of the sea and what we might do to make sure that they are still here to inspire and enthrall our children and grandchildren.

It was a joy to be part of it.

* * *

The Bonehenge Whale Center was built by volunteers dedicated to marine conservation, education, and research on the whales, dolphins, and porpoises of the North Carolina coast. You can learn more about the Center’s remarkable work and how you might contribute to it here.

Elizabeth City State University will present in April a special concert honoring two jazz greats.

The John Coltrane/Miles Davis Centennial Celebration is scheduled for 7 p.m. April 14 at the Floyd L. Robinson Auditorium inside the Mickey L. Burnim Fine Arts Center. Doors open at 6 p.m.

Scheduled to perform are the university’s Jazz Ensemble with guest artists Dr. Steven Cunningham, Cedric Easton, Dennis Figgs, Christian Howes, Stephanie Sanders, Shannah Boone and Jeremy Ward, and a special performance by the Arts of the Albemarle River City Strings.

“Join ECSU for a night when history, artistry, and community come together to celebrate the enduring legacy of jazz and the icons who defined it,” organizers said.

The program is part of Elizabeth City State’s Community Connections performance and lecture series, and is sponsored and supported through a combination of student fees and a private donation from Phyllis Bosomworth, a former member of the university’s Board of Trustees.  

While there is no charge to attend, those interested are encouraged to register in advance through www.ecsu.edu/community-connections. For additional information, contact ecsucommunityconnections@ecsu.edu.  

The Museum of the Albemarle is to welcome the author of a recently published book on the United States Coast Guard’s 235-year history on the North Carolina coast for its monthly “History for Lunch” program.

Starting at noon Wednesday, April 22, inside the Elizabeth City museum’s Gaither Auditorium, retired U.S. Coast Guard Capt. George E. Krietemeyer is scheduled to discuss his book, “Guardians of the Graveyard of the Atlantic.”

His talk is to begin with the arrival of the U.S. Revenue Cutter Diligence in 1792, which was built in Washington to Alexander Hamilton’s design and specifications, the vessel’s primary mission was to collect tariffs but soon became involved in chasing pirates and aiding vessels in distress. The Coast Guard now has more than 5,000 members working in North Carolina, saving lives and overseeing oil spills all over the world.

Registration is not needed to attend the lecture in person but those wishing to attend virtually must sign up in advance to receive the meeting link. Friends of the Museum of the Albemarle support the virtual program.

The Museum of the Albemarle is a part of the Division of State History Museums, Office of Archives and History, under the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

The Museum of the Albemarle is at 501 S. Water St., Elizabeth City, and is open from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Saturday.

North Carolina Colonial Records Project has launched a new, online exhibit featuring the letters of the state’s first governor, who served 1776-1780, as part of the ongoing America 250 commemoration.

The exhibit, “Governor Richard Caswell and Revolutionary North Carolina,” contains 337 newly transcribed and searchable documents about Caswell’s career, the mobilization of patriot troops during the early days of the American Revolution, loyalists in North Carolina, and interactions with the Cherokee Nation.

The North Carolina Colonial Records Project is part of the N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, which manages more than 100 historic, cultural and natural sites across the state, and oversees America 250 NC, the state’s official commemoration of the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence taking place this year.

MosaicNC is hosting the exhibit. The North Carolina Office of Archives and History, under the Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, oversees the online digital resources that features interactive exhibits and transcribed primary sources from a wide array of topics in the state’s history.

The North Carolina Symphony is performing for free in Jacksonville this summer in honor of the nation’s 250th birthday.

Conducted by Sophie Mok, Classical Favorites Celebrating America 250 will showcase the music of composers including Copland’s “Buckaroo Holiday,” John Williams’ “Liberty Fanfare” and “Armed Forces Salute,” and Sousa’s “The Stars and Stripes Forever.”

The concert is scheduled for 7:30 p.m. June 16 at Northside High School, 365 Commons Dr. S in Jacksonville.

Tickets are required and may be reserved now.

A state historical marker commemorating the life and accomplishments of Zachariah Jacobs, a free-born African American patriot soldier who served in multiple regiments during the Revolutionary War, will be dedicated next week in downtown Wilmington.

The North Carolina Highway Historical Marker will be dedicated at 10 a.m. on Thursday at the corner of Third and Grace streets in Wilmington.

Jacobs was in his 20s when he was drafted into the Bladen County Regiment of the North Carolina Militia as a private in late 1778.

In only a matter of a few months, Jacobs marched with his regiment through South Carolina into Georgia, where he fought in the Battle of Briar Creek in March 1779.

That battled ended in defeat for the American forces, “and amid the confusion of retreat, Jacobs returned to his home in Brunswick County,” according to the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

Roughly two years later, in early 1781, he rejoined the militia, serving a nine-month term during which in March of that year he fought in one of the most significant battles in the Southern campaign, the Battle of Guildford Court House.

It was during this battle that Jacobs sustained a wound to one of his legs. After spending time recovering in a hospital, he started his journey home, only to be captured by Loyalist soldiers and taken to British Maj. James Henry Craig in Bladen County.

Craig later paroled Jacobs, who returned briefly returned to civilian life before enlisting for another nine-month term in October 1781 in a North Carolina Regiment of the Continental Line.

In March 1782, under Maj. Michael Rudolph in operations near Charleston, South Carolina, the unit in which Jacob served captured the British galley Alligator on the Ashley River, a move notable for its disruption to British supply lines.

Jacobs spent a majority of that tour stationed at Ashley Hill, after which time he marched to Wilmington and was discharged in December 1782.

He lived out his remaining years in Brunswick and New Hanover counties.

After successfully applying for a federal pension in April 1835, Jacobs received $28.33 semiannually for 17 months of service as a private.

He died April 10, 1847 in New Hanover County. He was 93.

His widow, Sally Jacobs, would later secure a pension in recognition of her late husband’s contributions.

“Jacobs’ story underscores the vital role played by free people of color in the Revolutionary War. His perseverance through multiple enlistments, wounds, captivity, and eventual recognition reflects the broader struggle for liberty that defined the era,” according to NCDNCR.

The Highway Historical Marker Program is a collaboration between the North Carolina departments of Natural and Cultural Resources and Transportation.

More information about the historical marker is available at https://www.dncr.nc.gov/blog/2026/02/06/zachariah-jacobs-d-125 or by calling (919) 814-6625.

This story is presented in celebration of Women’s History Month, the theme for which in 2026 is “Leading the Change: Women Shaping a Sustainable Future.”

Heather Rose flashes a knowing smile toward her sister, Becky, across a table at Blackbeard’s Grill, their family’s seafood restaurant in Beaufort. “Honey, we’ve got some gooood memories together.”

“Epic memories,” Becky replies.

Those unforgettable moments were often squeezed into late nights between the grueling days when Heather clocked 12-hour kitchen shifts, and Becky, stepping away from the restaurant and neighboring Rose Seafood Market, worked dawn to dusk, moving dirt, hauling rocks and setting shrubs for her own landscaping company.

Their grind never stood a chance against the tide.

“When darks come and the businesses closed, we go get in the truck, go to the boat ramp,” Heather says.

Pushing off for the banks to fish until the sun touched the horizon, the women were overjoyed to be under the stars, even that night when a mud-clogged motor stranded them, exhausted and ravenous, until their parents arrived like a rescue squad with cheese biscuits.

“We just sat there in the boat eating those biscuits. We could barely hold our eyes open,” Heather chuckles, Becky nodding in rhythm. “But we had a boatload of flounders, and we had spent all night talking to each other.”

The sisters’ bond is as deep as their roots on the Carolina coast. It’s a connection forged in the salt of their shared seafood heritage and tested by the daily demands of the family business.

Despite the relentless labor of running both Blackbeard’s and Rose Seafood Market, and the looming shadow of an uncertain commercial fishing industry, Heather and Becky are unwavering. They’ve made it their mission to keep their landmark corner of Beaufort thriving for the next generation.

A legacy without blueprints

Surrounded by black-and-white snapshots of the commercial fishers and boat builders who came before, the women reflect on the proud way of life handed down to them. Today, the sisters lead that legacy: Heather oversees the seafood market, while Becky serves as the chef and proprietor of Blackbeard’s Grill.

Their ties to the coast reach back to the 1700s, Becky says. Ancestors were boat captains in the Northeast before navigating south to Swan Quarter, where a bay bears the Rose name. Some relatives headed to Cape Lookout, establishing the early Rose Town community.

In 1910, their great-great-grandfather, George Rose, moved his family from the cape to Harkers Island. There, later generations established Rose Brothers Boat Works, which became famous for crafting fine wooden yachts and charter boats built entirely by eye without plans or blueprints.

It was in that boatyard that Heather and Becky’s parents, Rodney and Mary, first met.

Rose Seafood Market was born of necessity. Frustrated by low dockside prices, Rodney and Mary founded the business in 1986 to eliminate the middleman. What started as a backyard mom-and-pop grew into a Marshallberg fish house sourcing from 30 local commercial fishers. By 1993, the couple moved to their current Beaufort location, soon after adding a take-out window. Two years later, they opened Blackbeard’s Grill to highlight “Down East” heritage recipes.

Today, the sisters manage day-to-day operations, with their parents’ constant inspiration and presence. The women draw strength from recollections of their father networking with fishermen, setting the standard for relationship building his daughters rely on today.

Dad, who still fishes, pops in — though not often enough, Heather laments, missing her father — to deliver and help process the catch, as well as share insight with customers about the challenges facing commercial fishers.

Years of watching their mother diplomatically negotiate the sale of thousands of pounds of fish weekly to far-flung markets in Boston, New York and Philadelphia, then turning around to masterfully head shrimp, shuck scallops and pack fish, made anything seem possible.

“Growing up and seeing that, I never felt like a woman was out of place in this industry,” Becky says of the male-dominated seafood sector.

The market still sources catches docked by local commercial fishers, including Heather, and carries beloved Rose family recipes, like their Aunt Dora’s shrimp salad. Locals watch Blackbeard’s specials for regional favorites such as scallop fritters and hard crab stew. Offerings depend on what’s fresh next door.

The scale is staggering. “We’re probably going to feed about 60,000 people here (at Blackbeard’s), and just on five nights that we’re open each week, for the year,” Becky says. Between the restaurant and the market’s grab-and-go section, which Becky stocks with crab pies, lasagnas, shrimp salad and more, the sisters are in a state of constant motion.

“We love the connection,” Becky says. “When you go and catch something yourself, do all the work involved in doing that, and then you prepare it and cook it for somebody, and you hand it to them and they eat it…that’s a feeling that can’t be duplicated in any other way.”

‘Don’t fight it, accept it’

Heather remembers happy childhood days clamming and shrimping with her parents and packing seafood at their then-fledgling business. “I was young, full of energy, you know, and always willing and anxious to help.”

Becky, 11 years younger, was just a toddler at the time, trying to stack boxes in her tiny oilskins. As a youngster, she headed shrimp after school at Rose Seafood in Beaufort and told customers, “My daddy caught these.”

“I still have some older ladies that come here and say, ‘Were you that cute little blonde-headed girl that waited on me in the seafood market?’”

Despite those precious memories, both women envisioned paths away from the water. In college, Becky studied marketing, a talent she skillfully applies to the businesses’ engaging social media feeds. Heather worked for 10 years as an officer with the Morehead City Police Department. Throughout their own careers, both sisters kept a foot in the family seafood business.

“I think both of us felt that was our calling,” Becky reflects.

“There was a time when I was younger, I was always trying to run away from it,” Heather adds.

“Well, I think we both knew how hard it was,” Becky says, finishing her sister’s thought.

The pair’s management era began with the COVID-19 pandemic. When the virus’s spread shuttered dining rooms, the Roses, like many restaurateurs, turned to walking takeout orders to vehicles lined up in the parking lot. By then, the market had closed, but with the public’s limited access to grocers and other seafood outlets, the Roses realized that they needed to reopen the store to sustain the community and their own livelihoods.

Heather had already left police work to help her parents at the restaurant, but she was facing burnout even before the pandemic. That’s when Becky stepped in, leaving an unfulfilling job in the wholesale plant industry to help her family keep up.

“It was really hard on me at first, because I hadn’t really been dealing with seafood for a decade,” she remembers. “It was hard to build up to the strength and endurance that it takes to clean 500 pounds of spots a day, to filet 1,000 pounds of flounder, to head 1,000 pounds of shrimp.”

The sisters stop to compare scars. “You can look at our hands, and you know,” Becky says.

Heather smiles. “Me and Beck, we look at each other when we’re exhausted and we say, ‘Don’t fight it, accept it. This is your calling.’”

‘These are the really special times’

Demanding work and a powerful desire to make their parents proud fuel the sisters’ mission. They also genuinely like their jobs.

Becky, always a foodie, found that working in horticulture deepened her interest in herbs and cooking, setting her up as a chef who understands both local food culture and how to craft contemporary dishes like crispy crab Rangoon with sweet Thai chili sauce or half-shell oysters roasted with bacon jam, a dollop of goat cheese to finish.

“She literally elevates this kitchen to a different level than it’s ever been,” Heather says of her sister. “She has a lot of pride, and she’s, she’s a perfectionist. She wants it to be right and won’t accept it any other way.”

Heather loves nothing more than fishing, but her wide-ranging experience in and outside the business make her indispensable to both operations, Becky says. Heather’s seafood chowder is an enduring menu staple, and she formulated the various breading recipes used to fry different seafoods.

“The tenacity,” Becky says of Heather, “if she makes up her mind that we’re doing something or she’s doing something, she’s doing it…And she can wire things. She’s very mechanical, and I am totally not…So when we come together, we don’t fight or argue like sisters sometimes do. We really work well together.”

Who will take on the business years from now is a constant worry, especially as North Carolina commercial fishers lose docks to new waterfront development. They also face fierce competition from recreational fishing interests with the capital to fund lobbyists and marketing campaigns that, as the sisters see it, demonize fishing families as destroyers of the very resources they depend on.

“We don’t have family to leave it to,” Heather says. “And that makes me very sad,” Becky adds, “and it’s something I think about every night before I go to bed.”

That uncertainty pulls at them, but it hasn’t slowed their pace. Instead of pulling back, the duo doubles down with new ideas, like Heather’s upcoming seafood boils to go and adding beer and wine sales to the market’s offerings. Becky takes on public education, sharing the story of the state’s seafood heritage through speaking engagements and staging fundraising dinners aimed at preserving the commercial fishing way of life.

Both agree they’d like nothing better than to fire up the boat after work more often and head out for an all-nighter. Meantime, they try to live by the advice Becky often gives Heather.

“You’re going to look back on today, and you’re gonna say, ‘Those were good times,’ even if you’re having a bad day here … We got to make the most out of each day, because these are really special times right now for this business and for our family.” 

Fort Fisher historian Becky Sawyer will share the gritty history of tattoos that adorned sailors who fought in the 1865 battle that ended with the capture of the last open port in North Carolina and the Confederacy.

Sawyer will dive into the results of five years of research on tattoos worn by the sailors who participated in the Battle of Fort Fisher during a presentation entitled “Red, Blue & Black Tattoos Among Sailors at Fort Fisher.” The event is scheduled to begin at 5:30 p.m. Monday at the New Hanover County Public Library’s main library at 230 Grace St. in Wilmington.

Through images and stories, Sawyer will “explore this fascinating and sometimes gritty aspect of maritime history. Not for the faint of heart,” according to the library.

In mid-January 1865, joint Army and Navy forces commanded by Union Rear Adm. David D. Porter and Maj. Gen. Alfred Terry attacked and captured the fort situated at the mouth of the Cape Fear River at the Atlantic Ocean.

Part of an ongoing series on coastal North Carolina’s observance of America’s 250th.

The patriot victory over loyalist forces at the Battle of Moores Creek in the early morning of Feb. 27, 1776, set North Carolina up to be one of the first colonies to vote for independence from British Rule.

That bloody battle in a Pender County swamp is considered the first decisive win of the American Revolution and is commemorated every year with a wreath-laying ceremony by the National Park Service and regional partners at Moores Creek National Battlefield.

This year, the commemoration was expanded to two days, Feb. 27-28, and anchored the weeklong inaugural First in Freedom Festival held Feb. 21-28. Taking place at historical sites, museums and other locations in Bladen, Brunswick, Columbus, Duplin, New Hanover, Onslow, Pender and Sampson counties, the festival was supported by the state’s official celebration of independence, America 250 NC, under the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

The weekend was both somber and celebratory, with a wreath-laying ceremony that began the two-day commemoration, living history demonstrations with both loyalist and patriot reenactors who camped on the grounds near the earthworks built by patriots for the battle, a ribbon-cutting for two new exhibits in the visitor center, and special guest, Diana Gabaldon, creator of “Outlander.”

“Outlander,” both a series of books and a television show, is about a World War II nurse who travels through time to 18^th century Scotland, where she meets a young Highlander. The historical fiction series follows the couple from 1740s Scotland to the colony of North Carolina after the American Revolution.

While rainy conditions on the first day, Feb. 27, prevented a handful of the outdoor programs from taking place, including the weapons demonstrations. The weather, while still gloomy the next morning, allowed the sun to peek out later that day.

“Despite some challenges brought forward by the weather, the event was a great success, bringing over 17,500 visitors to Moores Creek National Battlefield during the event. The success was the result of a wonderful collaboration and partnership among the National Park Service, state and local partners, as well as volunteers, reenactors and living historians,” Battlefield Chief of Interpretation, Education and Volunteers Jason Collins told Coastal Review after the event.

With the steady pitter-patter of raindrops drummed on umbrellas and tents, leaves and puddles in the background, Michael Elston, president general of the National Society of the Sons of the American Revolution, said from the podium during the wreath-laying ceremony that North Carolina was one of the earliest colonies to end royal rule and establish its freedom from Great Britain.

The last royal governor of the North Carolina Colony, Josiah Martin, fled to the safety of a royal naval ship in July 1775 and began plotting his return to power as head of an army of loyal colonists. “Unfortunately for Gov. Martin, he overestimated the support he had in North Carolina,” Elston said. About 1,600 loyalists answered met him in what is now Fayetteville and they began marching to the coast to join British forces.

Meanwhile, patriot forces maneuvered the loyalists toward Moores Creek Bridge, where they had established a strong position.

“The patriots fought on their terms and won an extremely short battle with only one man killed and another wounded in the aftermath,” Elston said, disrupting loyalist recruiting efforts in the state. “The battle put an end to loyalist organization in North Carolina, more than five months before the Declaration of Independence.”

Historic Halifax State Historic Site Assistant Site Manager Frank McMahon, also coordinator of the 3rd North Carolina reenacting group, took the podium as well, and filled in what happened next on the state’s road to freedom.

After the Battle of Moores Creek Bridge, the people of North Carolina elected a provincial congress to lead the colony. The fourth provincial Congress, made up of 83 delegates representing 29 counties and six of North Carolina’s most populated towns, met in Halifax to define a new direction for the American Revolution.

On April 12, 1776, the members unanimously adopted the Halifax Resolves, the date for which on the North Carolina flag acting as a direct reminder of the significance of the event, McMahon said.

The document known as the Halifax Resolves was first read to the members of the Continental Congress in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in June of 1776, and “would empower North Carolina’s members of the Continental Congress to collaborate with other united colonies to declare independence from Great Britain,” McMahon said.

McMahon took the opportunity to mention the next America 250 NC signature event, the “Halifax Resolves Days: Prelude to Revolution.” There will be living history activities, historic weapons demonstrations, guest speakers, food and live music at the site southeast just east of Interstate 95 near the Virginia line.

Special to the weekend is the original copy of the Halifax Resolves that was presented to the Continental Congress in 1776, on load from the National Archives. The document will be on display in the newly renovated historic Halifax State Historic Site visitor center.

Part of the afternoon activities was a ribbon-cutting ceremony to introduce two new exhibits in the visitor center.

Collins said from inside the building that the existing displays were installed in 2006 but only tell part of the story.

“A couple of the major parts of our history that we don’t get to tell are the stories of the naval stores and the story of music in this battle,” he said, which are the focus of the two new exhibits.

‘Outlander effect’

A “Weekend with Diana Gabaldon” featured three ticketed events, starting with “An Evening with Author Diana Gabaldon” Feb. 27 in Penderlea Auditorium in Willard, followed by a guided tour of the battlefield early Feb. 28, and concluded that afternoon with a book signing at a private venue. All events were sold out months ago.

During the evening program, Hunter Ingram, the assistant museum director for the colonial Burgwin-Wright House and Gardens, a 1770 structure open to the public, had a conversation with Gabaldon about how her path as a historical fiction writer brought her to Moores Creek and the influence her detailed accounts have had on tourism.

A lifelong and avid reader, Gabaldon said she knew at the age of 8 that she was supposed to write novels, “I just didn’t have any idea how.”

Before trying her hand at writing, Gabaldon pursued a career as a scientist, earning three degrees in the subject, including a master’s degree in marine biology and a doctorate in quantitative behavioral ecology. After she and her husband married, they just celebrated 54^th anniversary, they had three children in the space of four years.

“It was busy, and at this point in my life, and I’m not sure why, probably sleep deprivation, I decided that this was the time to start writing a novel,” Gabaldon said. “Two jobs and three small children and a husband who decided to quit his job and start his own business.”

The inspiration for “Outlander” came from a “really old rerun of ‘Doctor Who’ on public television,” she said. “Doctor Who” is British science fiction television series that began in 1963. 

“I was attracted, in this particular instance, to one of the doctor’s companions, who was a young Scotsman who appeared in his kilt, and I was thinking, ‘well, that’s kind of fetching’,” she explained, leading her to begin researching 18^th century Scotland.

“So that’s when I started writing ‘Outlander’,” she said, explaining that she opted for historical fiction because “it seemed easier to look things up than to make things up.”

She begins “Outlander,” the first book that was published in 1991, with “people disappear all the time.” The line came to her one day but wasn’t the first line she wrote.

“I was thinking, ‘Well, sure, they do, but why do they?’ and then the next couple of lines just sort of evolved. This is one reason. This is another reason. And it got more mysterious, and I was sitting there thinking, ‘Well, why do they disappear?’ And that’s why there’s time travel in these books.”

As for how the characters end up in North Carolina, it’s because she’s following history. After the Battle of Culloden April 1746 in the Scottish Highlands, she said there was no reason for her characters to go back to Scotland and brought them to the Americas. Culloden was the final conflict in the Jacobite Rising and is featured prominently in the series.

“I was following history,” she said and the Highlander migration across the state, which is how colonial historic sites became part of the “Outlander” story.

Ingram praises her detailed description of Moores Creek in “A Breath of Snow and Ashes,” which is set in 1770s North Carolina.

It is not often that there are examples of someone looking at the region’s history from the outside and making it part of something so globally beloved, he said, adding it’s an interesting way to look at not just Moores Creek, but local history in Wilmington, in the Cape Fear region, and across North Carolina.

“A lot of the historic sites have seen an impact from people being interested in ‘Outlander’,” Ingram said.

Gabaldon told the audience that she’s seen similar in Scotland and has been given honorary doctorate degrees for services to country by the University of Glasgow and the University of the Highlands, and the Scottish Government gave her a Thistle Award, which spotlights the tourism industry.

It is being called the “Outlander effect.”

She recounted that when the show first began filming, she was on set for about six weeks in a village near Glasgow. During lunch, she and another writer went to a café to buy sandwiches, but the shopkeeper didn’t have change. He then realized she is the creator of “Outlander,” and explained that she had had no idea what she had done for the economy there.  

Ingram said the effect has been noticeable at historic sites in the region and mentioned the discussion they when she was a special guest on the podcast he hosts for the Burgwin-Wright House called, “Outlander in the Cape Fear.”

He said that during the podcast, they discussed her impact and, “You said you felt it was a lovely side effect of the work that you’ve done, not just here in North Carolina — but we’re kind of biased that, you know, we want to see more people pay attention to our history — and so the fact that we’re all here on the 250th anniversary of Moores Creek today, I think, is a testament to what you’ve done.”

During the tour of the battlefield the next day with Historic Weapons Supervisor and Special Park Uses Coordinator Jason Howell and Gabaldon, Howell said something similar.

“She does a really good job of pulling you into the earthworks in the morning fog,” he said, adding how he remembered being captured by her writing. “And one thing Diana does is, she gets people like you interested in these sites. It’s from her viewpoint and it’s from an alternate viewpoint, but she captures your attention.”

And, as a result, he’s seen Outlander fans come to the site, who admit to not liking history that much but are interested in the battlefield.

More information on America 250 NC events, including details on the Halifax Resolves Days, can be found at america250.nc.gov.

Dare County is finalizing plans to celebrate the nation’s 250th anniversary taking place next month.

Scheduled for Saturday, April 18, in downtown Manteo and at Roanoke Island Festival Park, Dare A250 Faire is Dare County’s signature event commemorating the nation’s 250th anniversary.

The celebration will feature a variety of vendors, along with live music, historical reenactments and storytelling, art displays, educational programming, community exhibits, family-friendly activities and patriotic festivities that highlight Dare County as the “Land of Beginnings.”

Activities will take place throughout downtown Manteo from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., before transitioning to Roanoke Island Festival Park for the Star Spangled Spectacular, an evening celebration featuring headlining musical acts and a special performance highlighting Dare County’s rich history.

The Dare A250 Faire was originally scheduled at the Wright Brothers National Memorial in Kill Devil Hills but was relocated to Manteo and Roanoke Island Festival Park to allow “all aspects of the planning committee’s vision to be included in the celebration,” organizers said. “The Roanoke Island setting highlights the area’s rich history as the ‘Birthplace of America,’ with the historic Elizabeth II serving as a meaningful backdrop to the festivities.”

The Dare A250 Celebration is designed as a full-day experience and is offered free of charge. While the daytime festivities in downtown Manteo are open to all, free tickets will be required for the evening performance at Roanoke Island Festival Park due to venue capacity. Tickets can be reserved online.

Musical acts are to be announced in the coming weeks.

Editor’s note: Coastal Review regularly features the work of North Carolina historian David Cecelski, who writes about the history, culture and politics of the North Carolina coast. More of his work can be found on his website.

A few weeks ago, I gave a lecture at Duke Law School on the history of the white supremacy movement of 1898-1900 and how it shaped our political system, our society, and our legal system here in North Carolina.

I always have to brace myself a bit to give that lecture: It is grim tale, one of the darkest chapters in my home state’s history, and I do not think that anyone could find a silver lining to the story.

Nonetheless, I rarely decline an invitation to give that particular lecture: the subject is just too important.

By almost any measure, the white supremacy movement of 1898 to 1900 is the most important event in North Carolina’s history over the last 150 years.

No event did more to shape our 20th century. None has done more to shape the world in which we live today.

None tells us more about why so many people today feel so helpless to mend the brokenness in our society.

None has more to teach us about how and why we, as a people, have come to feel so torn asunder and divided from one another.

None that I can think of speaks more directly to why so many working people today, of all races, find themselves shunted aside.

And yet, despite its central role in the state’s history, the white supremacy movement of 1898 to 1900 remains largely unknown to the vast majority of North Carolina’s citizens.

To my knowledge, no book, documentary, or museum exhibit has ever focused on the white supremacy movement of 1898-1900 as a whole.

Neither does any historical marker tell its story. Nor does any monument or memorial stand as a warning to us today.

With few exceptions, our schoolchildren are not taught about it.

In much the same way as I was at their age, our students are kept in the dark about one of the chapters in North Carolina’s history that they most need to understand if they are going to have a chance to make a better world than they have inherited.

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In the last few years, I have given one version or another of my lecture on the history of the white supremacy movement of 1898 to 1900 at colleges and universities, high schools, community centers, book clubs, and Sunday school classes.

I am always surprised how people respond to it. If you grew up in North Carolina as I did, you were not taught anything at all about the white supremacy movement of 1898 to 1900.

At most, we were taught a thing or two, probably incorrect, about what we now call the Wilmington Massacre of Nov. 11, 1898.

The Wilmington Massacre was the worst atrocity committed by the white supremacists. However, the murder of so many of Wilmington’s black citizens and the takeover of the city’s government was only a small and in some ways far from central chapter in the state’s white supremacist movement.

The white supremacy movement of 1898 to 1900 did not arise in Wilmington.

None of its most important instigators came from Wilmington. Few of the wealthy bankers, industrialists, and attorneys who were its leaders and principal financiers came from Wilmington.

The white supremacy movement of 1898 to 1900 also drew only a small percentage of its supporters from Wilmington.

As a case in point, the white supremacists organized more than 900 “white supremacy clubs” in North Carolina in the spring and summer of 1900.

This is the mission statement of the white supremacy clubs as written by one of the movement’s leaders, an attorney and future United States senator named Furnifold Simmons, in the winter of 1900:

“The purpose of the organization shall be to fully restore and make permanent in North Carolina the SUPREMACY of the WHITE RACE and to develop in the state’s citizens a belief in the necessity of establishing and maintaining WHITE SUPREMACY, as the only hope for the preservation of our civilization.”

Not more than one percent of those “white supremacy clubs” were organized in Wilmington.

In that same summer of 1900, at least two dozen white militia groups called Red Shirts operated in North Carolina. They were the militant wing of the white supremacy movement, and they terrorized both Black voters and white citizens who stood with Black voters.

At most, only one of the Red Shirt militias was based in Wilmington.

Similarly, In 1900, the white supremacy movement’s leadership organized a speakers bureau that included more than 100 individuals.

If an individual volunteered to be part of the speakers bureau, he – they were all men – would accept assignments to speak at white supremacy rallies and at meetings of local white supremacy clubs.

Those speakers included past and future governors, several former and future U.S. senators and congressmen, and a large contingent of former and future district, superior, and state supreme court judges.

None of the white supremacy movement’s most popular orators were from Wilmington.

All of which is to say: We cannot say too much about the Wilmington Massacre. Its story was silenced for too long.

But at the same time, we have to keep our eyes on the prize, which to me, in this case, means focusing on the white supremacy movement of 1898-1900 overall and how it shaped our state then and now.

We have to remember something that we were not taught, but know now: in 1898-1900, white supremacists took over the state of North Carolina.

They took control of its legislature, its governorship and all its state agencies. They took over its judiciary, its towns and cities, and every one of the state’s public colleges and schools.

As you can tell from the illustrations that I am featuring here, these were not people to whom I am retroactively applying the term “white supremacy.”  These were people who referred to themselves as white supremacists.

Who ran on the “White Supremacy Ticket.” Who joined “white supremacy clubs.” Who sang the “White Supremacy Song.”

Who celebrated “White Supremacy Day.”

Who carried white supremacy flags, wore white supremacy political buttons, and marched with banners proclaiming “White Supremacy.”

Whose leaders said things like:

“The Anglo Saxon planted civilization on this continent and wherever this race has been in conflict with another race, it has asserted its supremacy and either conquered or exterminated the foe. This great race has carried the Bible in one hand and the sword [in the other]. Resist our march of progress and civilization and we will wipe you off the face of the earth.”

William A. Guthrie, Oct. 28, 1898

Once in control of the state, the white supremacists methodically set about embedding the primacy of white supremacy and a deep distrust of fair elections and the democratic process in our municipal, county, and state government institutions and policies, as well as in our state’s economic and civic life.

As I discussed with the Duke law students, that is one of the reasons that attorneys played such a central role in the white supremacy movement in 1900. After taking power in 1898, the movement transitioned from taking power to institutionalizing white supremacy in North Carolina’s laws and civic life.

Writing the laws of white rule, revising the electoral process, and centralizing control in Raleigh, rather than at the local level, was the work of attorneys.

The white supremacists were extremely successful.

They were so successful, and the breadth of their success was so great that, in the following decades, dissent was almost unheard of. In the decades after 1900, I have yet to find historical evidence of a single one of our state’s political, business, or religious leaders, on any end of the political spectrum, who raised their voice against white supremacy.

In fact, the leaders of the white supremacy movement of 1898 to 1900 became our heroes. North Carolina’s leaders built statues to them. They named college buildings after them. They dedicated historic sites in honor of them.

Over time, and the passing of the generations, their way of thinking about the world, and the divisions they erected between us and our neighbors, began to be taken for granted. We could not remember a different kind of life. We lost sight of the possibility that a person’s race one day might not matter or that there might be a better way to treat one another.

We could not imagine that there could be a different kind of world than that into which we were born.

We forgot that we do not have to be so scared of one another. That we do not have to be so fractured.

We did not even dream anymore that we could be the kind of people that look out for one another and are there for our neighbors, no matter who they are or where they were born or who or how they love.

We could not imagine that we are all in this hard, hard life together, and that we might have been put here to help one another get through it.

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The students at the law school were wonderful. They were engaged, curious, serious, and kind-hearted.

One even seemed to be worried about me. She wondered if I found it hard to study and talk about such dark moments in our history.

I do not. I am far too old for that. But I appreciated her thoughtfulness, and I found it very endearing.

Inevitably, the students were astonished and perhaps somewhat shaken by the similarities between the white supremacy movement of 1898-1900 and what is happening in America today.

I have come to see that as only natural. When I give this lecture, I do not draw explicit comparisons between the past and the present. However, the similarities are so striking that, on learning about 1898 to 1900, people of all ages inevitably see parallels between that time and ours.

Sometimes, like when I gave a version of this lecture at a Raleigh high school a few weeks ago, I can literally feel the sudden change of mood in the room as it dawns on the students that this is not just a history lesson but is about their lives and the struggles that they have ahead to make this a better world.

At those times, I can feel a kind of breathlessness in the room. Everything gets more serious.

Sometimes students who had not done so take out their notebooks and start taking notes for the first time in the lecture.

Then we can really get down to work. Then we begin to put our heads together and go beyond what I know.

That is when it gets really interesting and exciting for me.

The young people often see things that I do not, and they often make connections that I had not previously made.

Many times, they find far more lessons in the past that bear on our lives and our struggles to make a better world today than I had ever imagined.

At those moments, I am filled with hope. Their intellectual seriousness, their moral courage, and their refusal to accept an America that seems to have given up on being good or noble lifts me up.

And even if none of us by ourselves has all the answers — I certainly do not — I find every gathering where people come together to consider how we got here, and how we might contribute to making a better future for our children and grandchildren, tremendously uplifting.

I find that to be true whether I am in a crowded college auditorium, a high school classroom, or a table for six at a senior center.

It is always worth doing.

As James Baldwin famously said, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

To commemorate Women’s History Month in March, Somerset Place in Washington County is highlighting the contributions that enslaved and free women made to the development, maintenance, and infrastructure of the 18th century plantation with guided tours.

The fee is $10 for the tours being offered at 10 a.m. on March 14, March 18, March 21, March 25 and March 28. For 15 or more people, group reservations are required. The site is located at 2572 Lake Shore Road, Creswell.

Somerset Place was an active plantation from 1785-1865. Rice, corn, oats, wheat, beans, peas and flax were planted on hundreds of acres, and sawmills turned out thousands of feet of lumber. By 1865, Somerset Place was one of the upper South’s largest plantations.

Now an historic site, Somerset Place is a representative state historic site offering a comprehensive and realistic view of 19th-century life on a large North Carolina plantation.

During its 80 years as an active plantation under slavery from 1785-1865, “enslaved persons converted thousand of acres into high yielding fields of rice, corn, oats, wheat, beans, peas, and flax. Meanwhile, enslaved and free millwrights operated sophisticated sawmills that turned out thousands of feet of lumber. By 1860, Somerset Place was one of the Upper South’s largest plantations,” according to North Carolina Historic Sites.

Almost 200 Black and white, enslaved and free men, women, and children were assembled as a labor force by 1790. “Over the life of the plantation, three generations of owners, around 50 white employees, two free black employees, and more than 861 enslaved people lived and worked on the plantation,” , the sites website continues.

By the mid-19th century, there were more than 50 buildings on-site including barns, saw and gristmills, stables, a hospital, an Episcopal chapel, a kitchen complex, 26 houses for members of the enslaved community, and homes for overseers, tutors, ministers, and the owner’s family, along with a kitchen/laundry, dairy, storehouse, and smoke and salting houses.

Nearly all the emancipated Black families left the plantation by the end of 1865 after the Civil War. The owners eventually sold and left the property. The plantation remained functioning through 1945.

Somerset’s plantation house and six adjacent structures were incorporated into what was the newly formed Pettigrew State Park in 1939, and in 1969, became a state historic site under the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

Regular hours for the site are 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday.

Across from the Pleasant Plains Baptist Church and just outside of Winton in Hertford County, it remained unclear for years whether the historic but badly damaged Rosenwald Pleasant Plains School built in 1920 could be saved.

If it could not, the school building, which replaced an earlier structure built on the grounds in 1866 that may have been the first “Colored” school in Hertford County, would probably be lost.

And then, in September 2024, a driver ran their car off U.S. 13 where the school is, and slammed it into the building with such force that the entire structure was moved off its foundation. The driver was drunk at the time.

With the one corner of the building crushed, the school off its stone foundation, and brick and other debris littering the inside, things looked bleak for the building that the National Register of Historic Places described in a 2016 report “as the only graded public school that served both local African American and Native American students in the Pleasant Plains community … from 1920 to 1950.”

As the report notes, the building was “a very intact, representative example of early twentieth-century rural school design.”

Yet what at first seemed like a disaster, may ultimately have saved the building. The insurance settlement was enough put the structure back on its foundation, repair the roof and exterior and paint the building.

There is, though, still work to be done.

Even before the accident, the roof had been leaking, and a new roof “stopped the problem with the leaks,” Roy Pierce said, who has been monitoring the condition of the school and handling repairs for years. “But before that took place, there were some leaks around those old chimneys, and the water seeped in and damaged some of the wooden ceiling.”

The ceiling needs repair, but it is just one of a number of problems pushing the cost of bringing the building back beyond the means of the Pleasant Plains Church, which owns the building and property.

Pierce pointed to the windows that have been boarded up to prevent vandalism. He explained that when restoration experts looked at the windows, he was told much of the glass was original, as were the frames.

“The estimate on just fixing those windows, was $17,000,” he said.

The land where the school rests has always been owned by the Pleasant Plains Church. The church, founded in 1851, is one of the oldest multiracial houses of worship in North Carolina. When founded, the church was for the nonwhite, free people of color only.

“Permission was granted to organize a church provided no slaves nor their descendants were allowed to join the church. The church was to be solely for the use of free-born people,” Corinne Hare Brummell wrote in Pleasant Plains Baptist Church 150th Anniversary Program in 2001.

At that time, and well into the 20th century, a person of color was anyone who was Black, African American or of mixed ancestry.

It is possible that there was a school associated with the church as early as the 1850s, but early church records were destroyed in a 1941 fire. It is known, however, that as early as 1866 “ten men were responsible for building a school house at Pleasant Plains,” the Hertford County Herald wrote recounting the history of Hertford County.

The first school house was one room, and “the only elementary school accessible to people of color, including African Americans and the descendants of Native Americans, in the Pleasant Plains community,” the National Register of Historic Places notes.

By the turn of the 20th century, it was clear a one-room school house was inadequate and in 1902, the county approved $90 “for the school with a total of ninety-eight students in the three classrooms,” according to the historic places document.

In 1920, hoping to improve the Pleasant Plains school, the community raised $750, the Hertford County school board contributed another $850 toward building a new three-room school, and the community received a $300 grant from the Rosenwald Foundation.

Although about a third of the construction cost of the school was low compared to other Rosenwald schools, Julius Rosenwald, the founder of the fund, “agreed to allow … funds to help rural Southern communities erect schools for black,” the historic places document explained if the community also contributed.

The school was in use from 1920 to 1950. When it closed, students began attending C.S. Brown School in Winton, which was also a Rosenwald-funded school that is now the Hertford County C.S. Brown Cultural Arts Center and Museum in Winton.

Chief Thomas Lewis, chief of the Meherrin nation, began his formal education at the school, but he recalled, “the floor fell in, and we had to go from there to one of the county schools. So by living in this area, we went to C.S. Brown.”

When he got to his new school, he and his brother who was in the second grade, “had to repeat grades,” he said. “I don’t know the reason, but that’s what they made us do.”

Although he attended the Pleasant Plains school for only the one year, Lewis has a clear memory of at least one of his teachers.

“Miss Ardelle Garrett, she was my girl. I brought her an apple every day,” Lewis said.

Garrett who, was born in 1904 in Ahoskie, had a long association with the school. As early as the 1930 census, Garrett is listed a teacher in a public school on the census form. And “the North Carolina Education Directory in 1939 notes the school with three teachers, including Ardelle Garrett, the principal,” according to the historic places research.

As a teacher, Garrett seemed to have had an impact on all her students.

“My father’s 96 and he talks about Ardelle Garrett to this day,” Lewis said.

There are other memories of what the school was like as well. Lewis mentioned that in the morning “we had people designated to go to the coal power and get coal, because that’s how the classrooms were heated.”

There is also a mention in the historic places report that Lewis recalled using “the outhouses in back of the school.”

There was a strong sense of community among the families surrounding the Pleasant Plains community.

“This stretch of highway, at one time you could leave Winton and drive to Ahoskie, and you knew that was Roy’s house and Thomas Chavis’ house, and whoever’s house. Back then, we knew everyone,” said Dr. Terry Hall, Pleasant Plains Church deacon, in describing U.S. Highway 13 that passes the church.

Yet if the C.S. Brown School was a larger and more modern school, it still took the community keep it going.

“There were a lot of fundraisers,” Lewis recalled. “They would sell cakes and pies to buy band uniforms and football equipment, all that kind of stuff.”

“They used to show movies. You could pay 15 cent and go see a movie,” Pierce added.

Although the school did not have the resources the white schools of the county had, what it did have were very good teachers.

“The teachers were good. We had people from here that went on to colleges and did well,” Hall said. “I think in some of the competitions, they used to have debates and stuff like that. They did good.”

In 1968, Hertford County Schools began the process of consolidating their schools and for the first year, student attendance was optional.

“It was part of what they called freedom of choice. I wanted to try to get a new experience. So I transferred (to Ahoskie High School),” Pierce said. Pierce graduated from Ahoskie High School in 1968.

The greater opportunity that was offered by the white schools may now be playing a role in how difficult repairing the Pleasant Plains School has become.

“We’ve gotten into an older population and people have gone into different professions,” Hall said. “Years ago, Thomas and his father and other people that did carpentry … they would have been buying the materials would have been all that would have cost us.”

“It’s like my younger brother, he said, ‘I’m leaving here because I’m not doing nothing with my hands,’” Lewis said. “And he moved to Roanoke Rapids.”

The Stamp Defiance Chapter of the National Society Daughters of the American Revolution is planning to dedicate a plaque later this month to commemorate the country’s “Forgotten Patriots of the American Revolution.”

The Wilmington-based group has scheduled the ceremony, part of the nationwide commemoration of America’s 250th anniversary, for 10 a.m. Friday, March 20, at USS North Carolina’s Battleship Park in Wilmington.

Speakers include USS North Carolina Director Dr. Jay Martin. The Sons of the American Revolution Color Guard will present the Colors. The Eugene Ashley High School’s NJROTC will serve as Honor Guard and lead the Pledge of Allegiance, and the Tryon Palace Fife and Drum Corps will perform traditional 18th-century military tunes. A reception will follow the ceremony.

The National Society Daughters of the American Revolution has partnered with America250, the nationwide initiative led by the U.S. Semiquincentennial Commission. America250 NC, North Carolina’s 250th commemoration, is a program under the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

When the British Parliament passed the Stamp Act of 1765, Wilmington residents showed their opposition with protests and militia actions, causing the resignation of the distributor of stamps and two other crown officers. As a result, the Stamp Act of 1765 was never enforced. In September 1921, the Stamp Defiance Chapter formed in Wilmington, and was named after those who opposed the act, according to the chapter’s website.

Archaeologists and historians are going to share their evidence of mixed Elizabethan-Algonquian material culture at sites on Hatteras Island during the March installment of the “Science on the Sound” series.

“The Smoking Gun?: New Radiocarbon Dates and Hunting Practices Linking Hatteras Island to Fort Raleigh in the Sixteenth Century” is scheduled for 6 p.m. Thursday, March 26, at the Coastal Studies Institute on the East Carolina University Outer Banks Campus.

The public is encouraged to attend the program being offered at no charge or view the presentation via YouTube. “Science on the Sound” is a monthly, in-person lecture series highlighting coastal topics.

The nonprofit Croatoan Archaeological Society and the University of Bristol have uncovered evidence that “strongly suggests Hatteras was the location where at least some of the ‘lost’ colonists re-settled when they went missing between 1587 and 1590,” organizers said.

“These objects have been cautiously interpreted, however, since European objects may have been traded long after those who originally brought them to the Carolina coast had passed away,” they continued. “Here we summarize past findings and describe the clearest evidence to date that the 1587 colonists were present on Hatteras Island: biogeochemical, radiocarbon, osteological, and metalwork evidence that demonstrate the presence of late sixteenth century firearms and hunting practices on Croatoan land.”

Beth Scaffidi, Mark Horton and Scott Dawson are presenting.

Scaffidi is an assistant professor of Anthropology and Heritage Studies, director of the Skeletal & Environmental Isotope Laboratory, or SEIL, and co-director of various archaeological field research programs in Peru. She uses bioarchaeological isotopes, palaeopathology and spatial analysis to investigate how interactions between ritual, landscapes and resources co-constitute human and environmental health.

Horton is the pro vice-chancellor of Research and Enterprise and professor of historical archeology at the Royal Agricultural University of England. He specializes in landscape archeology and archaeological science methods as applied to maritime and Colonial contexts around the globe and emphasizes public outreach and conservation of material culture.

Dawson is an area historian, director of the Croatoan Archaeological Society, and owner of the Lost Colony Museum in Buxton. He has been co-directing archaeological excavation of Cape Hatteras sites with Horton and society volunteers for over a decade.

Work is set to begin this week to repair and restore the Bodie Island double keepers’ quarters that was damaged in an electrical fire more than a year ago.

Once the damages are repaired, Cape Hatteras National Seashore plans to install new exhibits on the first floor of the building, which has been closed since the Jan. 7, 2025, fire.

“Restoring the interior of the Bodie Island DKQ, with support from Outer Banks Forever, will allow the Seashore to once again tell the stories of the light station’s important history,” David Hallac, National Parks of Eastern North Carolina superintendent said in a release.

The project is a partnership of Cape Hatteras National Seashore and its official nonprofit partner Outer Banks Forever, which is funding the repairs.

“We’re honored to partner with the National Park Service to restore this beloved, historically significant building so park visitors can have an immersive experience learning about the lightkeepers and families who played important roles in Outer Banks and United States maritime history,” Outer Banks Forever Director Bryan Burhans stated in the release.

Outer Banks Forever has received a special use permit for the project.

The North Carolina Maritime Museum in Beaufort welcomed visitors Saturday for the first time in over a year after closing to the public in late 2024 for a major overhaul of the heating and cooling system.

During the yearlong closure, staff worked to revamp existing displays and installed two new exhibits, Museum Site Manager Jamie McCargo explained during a ribbon-cutting last week.

“We have two brand-new exhibits. We are very proud to say one is called ‘North Carolina’s Road to Revolution,’” McCargo said, which celebrates America’s 250th anniversary, and “is wonderfully aligned with our division-wide initiative to celebrate the anniversary.”

The other new exhibit is “Swell Times,” which highlights coastal recreation, such surfing, fishing and boating, she said.

The maritime museums are under the N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, which is leading America 250 NC, the state’s yearlong commemoration of the 250^th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Programs, experiences, exhibits and more are scheduled throughout the year at sites across the state.

McCargo highlighted one panel from the “Road to Revolution” exhibit. During the winter of 1777-78, Gen. Washington’s army was camped Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, and desperately in need of supplies.

“They were cut off and just really were in dire need, and North Carolina rose to the occasion. North Carolina was able to provide food and clothing. They came from Ocracoke Inlet and traveled up our rivers and sounds and were able to deliver items to both South Key, Virginia, and on up to Valley Forge,” McCargo said.

McCargo added that the extensive upgrades inside the facility required moving all of the artifacts, around 10,000, to a controlled-climate room, while the rest of the facility’s HVAC was replaced.

During the site closure, staff continued to work by planning new and updating existing exhibits, including adding new artifacts to the Queen Anne’s Revenge exhibit. The museum is the official repository for the ship, which Blackbeard the Pirate was captaining when it ran aground in Beaufort Inlet 1718, and are expecting more from the Queen Anne’s Revenge conservation laboratory in Greenville.

McCargo also thanked the Friends of the N.C. Maritime Museum, for the $80,000 gift the nonprofit made toward the updates before welcoming the president of the group that supports the museum, Tom Kies.

“The museum is important on many different levels. First and foremost, it safeguards our history. The stories preserved within these walls of boatbuilders, sailors, fishermen, families and communities — and pirates — are not just relics of the past. They are living reminders of who we are and how this region was shaped by the sea. The educational programs offered here ensure that these stories are not last or lost, but passed on to a new generation who will carry them forward. But this Museum’s impact extends far beyond education and preservation,” Kies said.

He added that places like the Maritime Museum are where visitors can connect with the state’s maritime heritage, experience something authentic and meaningful, and understand why this part of North Carolina is so special.

“When they do, they don’t just visit the museum, they support local businesses, stay in our hotels, dine in our restaurants, and leave with a deeper appreciation of our community. In that way, the Maritime Museum is both a cultural anchor and an economic engine, strengthening the region in ways that are sometimes unseen but always felt,” Kies said.

Division of Cultural and Natural Resources Secretary Pamela Brewington Cashwell opened her remarks by telling the room that, for the past year, she had been asking when the facility would reopen. 

“How long does it take to put in a new HVAC system?” she said, with a hint of humor. “To which my staff says, ‘It’s not a window unit, secretary, it’s different,’” and the museum underwent a facelift, which she said many state sites need.

She thanked legislators for help with the $1.8 million project and the supporters, who are “critical to allowing us to do what we do across all of our over 100 sites in North Carolina.” The total includes other sites in the nearby area, like Fort Macon State Park and the N.C. Aquarium at Pine Knoll Shores.

The museum was initially scheduled to reopen Jan. 31 but the event was rescheduled for Feb. 21 because of inclement weather.

‘America 250 NC,’ ‘Swell Times’

The museum’s Information and Communications Specialist Cyndi Brown told Coastal Review that the “America 250 NC” exhibit is the first of three phases looking at North Carolina’s role in the American War for Independence.

“This first phase, which will remain on exhibit for about three years, looks at Revolutionary War commerce. The exhibit explores the state’s imports and exports, shares stories about some of its interesting figures and details the importance of the maritime routes in supplying war efforts to the north,” Brown said. “Phase 2 will focus on North Carolina’s privateers and the state’s navy. The final exhibit will look at the end of the war, focusing on coastal raids and the battle of Beaufort.”

Brown explained that creating these exhibits, as with all exhibits in the museum, starts with the history curator and collections staff.

“The historian will come up with a potential theme or concept and research it to be sure there are enough primary sources accessible to tell the history. He’ll then work with collections to be sure we can support those histories with artifacts that are either already in our collection or available for purchase or via loan from another institution,” she continued.

The other new exhibit, “Swell Times,” explores the history of recreation along the coast, specifically on the water.

“There’s info on surfing and sailing, boating, spearfishing, hunting and more. There’s a fun interactive with various historic postcards, front and back, to show some personal perspectives of being on the coast,” Brown said.

Onslow County Museum is beginning its yearlong celebration of America’s 250th birthday with a new changing exhibition, “SEMPER FIDELIS: Onslow County Celebrates America 250.”

The exhibit opening is scheduled for Saturday, with a special “family free day” from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. The museum is located in Richlands.

The exhibition recounts the story of Onslow County’s role in the American Revolution, introducing visitors to local people, places, and events that were instrumental in the shaping of the new country, according to the county

“In keeping with one of the central themes of the celebration, ‘A Gathering of Voices,’ Onslow County Museum invited a panel of guest curators to contribute to the exhibition storyline,” Director Lisa Whitman-Grice said in a statement.

The limited-time exhibit with colorful panels inspired by a graphic novel highlights seldom told local stories, and highlights the Naval Stores Industry of Tar, Pitch, and Turpentine from the Longleaf Forest, Black Patriots, the Colonial Family, The Revolutionary Ordinary, and the Colonial Courts.  

Onslow County is one of 89 official county participants in the North Carolina Department of Cultural and Natural Resources A250 in NC commemoration.

The North Carolina Division of Coastal Management has objected to the proposed Wilmington Harbor project, concluding that a federal study of the plan is too scant on details and that, as presented, deepening and widening the channel would have “significant adverse impacts to coastal resources.”

The Army Corps of Engineers’ review lacks an evaluation of PFAS in the sediment in the lower Cape Fear River, fails to adequately assess cumulative flooding impacts or thoroughly detail areas where dredged material would be placed, and does not sufficiently account for potential effects on fisheries habitat, freshwater wetlands, shorelines, or state, historic and other properties along the river, the division concluded.

The draft environmental impact statement, or DEIS, the Corps released last September also falls short in analyzing the project’s economic benefits and evaluating “potential economic losses associated with environmental degradation,” Division of Coastal Management Director Tancred Miller wrote to the Corps’ Wilmington District in a 15-page letter dated Feb. 24.

A Corps spokesman, in a statement Wednesday, called the state’s objection “disappointing” and highlighted what the Corps describes as offering “numerous opportunities” to engage with the public and work with state and federal agencies.

The Corps “felt we had been working hand in hand with all our State and Federal partners and resource agencies since we began coordination regarding this project nearly 3.5 years ago,” Jed Cayton, a public affairs specialist with Wilmington District, said in an email. “Given all the integration and engagement throughout this process, the objection provided at this late stage in the process is disconcerting.”

The Corps and North Carolina State Ports Authority are reviewing the division’s letter “to determine how we will proceed,” Cayton said. “Since we are very early in this review, we cannot yet give a specific date for completion.”

The Corps may pause the project and work with the state to try and resolve the state’s concerns or initiate a formal dispute resolution process.

The division’s objection comes a little more than a month after the division granted the Corps’ request to pause its review of whether the proposed project was consistent with state coastal management program laws, regulations and policies.

Miller wrote that, during that pause, the division “detailed its concerns along with possible paths forward to address the information deficiencies.”

On Feb. 16, the Corps asked the division in an email to resume its review of the project, one that has been highly scrutinized for its potential effects to the environment, shorelines and historic and culturally significant areas along the shores of the lower Cape Fear River.

“Our objection was based on a combination of lack of sufficient information to determine the impacts from PFAS and flooding and anticipated significant adverse impacts to fisheries resources, wildlife habitat and cultural and historic resources,” Miller told the Coastal Resources Commission during its meeting Wednesday in Atlantic Beach.

In his letter, Miller wrote that the lack of information regarding per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances was “of particular concern.”

“The DEIS does not evaluate the potential for contaminant resuspension during dredging and the resulting fate and transport of these chemicals into nearby water bodies and land areas,” the letter states. “This is of particular concern since extensive scientific research has documented the presence and persistence of PFAS over the past decade within the [Cape Fear River Basin], including a growing body of research indicating significant negative ecological implications of PFAS in fish, birds, and reptiles.”

The proposal calls for extending the entrance of the federal navigation channel farther offshore, deepening the channel by 5 feet and widening portions of it from the mouth of the Cape Fear River more than 25 miles to the Wilmington port.

The ports authority says the project is needed to accommodate larger ships, which will attract more import and export business to the port, ease shipping congestion on the East Coast and keep the state’s ports competitive.

But opponents of the proposed project argue it will accelerate erosion and exacerbate flooding, destroy habitat, disperse PFAS in the riverbed’s sediment into marshes and onto public beaches, is not economically justified, and threatens historic and cultural resources along the river.

One such historic site is Orton, a privately owned property that spans some 14,000 acres off the lower Cape Fear River’s western bank in Brunswick County and that includes a former plantation.

Orton owner Louis Bacon has spent millions restoring an expansive rice field system and earthen dike that enslaved Africans built more than two centuries ago to protect the rice fields from the river.

In a statement to Coastal Review on Wednesday, Bacon said the Division of Coastal Management’s objection to the proposed harbor project, “is proof that facts and persistence matter.”

“My concern has always been simple: this project, as proposed, puts undue and unacceptable risk on important historical and ecological sites,” Bacon stated. “The corps has not provided the analysis or safeguards the law requires. At Orton, dredging so close to a 250-year-old earthen dike creates a very real risk of catastrophic failure according to two separate expert firms – collapsing and flooding 350 acres of freshwater rice fields and exceptional wetlands with Atlantic saltwater, thereby eradicating the legacy of enslaved African Americans who built these systems over centuries, a monument to their efforts that I have spent years restoring.

“My objection is rooted in the fact that the project cannot be considered ‘consistent’ with North Carolina’s coastal protections if it causes this much damage,” he continued. “Large infrastructure decisions must be grounded in rigorous scientific evaluations, transparent disclosure, and enforceable protections, because these valuable resources cannot be rebuilt once lost.”

Several towns in Brunswick and New Hanover counties have adopted resolutions urging state and federal agencies to protect a series of islands within the lower Cape Fear River that support 30% of the state’s coastal shorebird population. Those towns have also asked for the creation of a comprehensive, long-term, and fully funded environmental and adaptive management plan to cover costs related to monitoring and mitigation to prevent and repair environmental harm.

Last month, the Wilmington City Council unanimously adopted a resolution calling for state and federal decision makers to further review the proposed project.

In his letter, Miller noted that an overwhelming majority of the written comments the division received last year regarding the proposed project opposed it. And everyone who spoke at a public hearing the division hosted in downtown Wilmington last November opposed the project.

Kerri Allen, coastal management program director of the North Carolina Coastal Federation, which publishes Coastal Review, was one of the 72 people who expressed their concerns about the proposed project at that meeting.

“I’m encouraged to see DCM thoughtfully consider the many strong public comments submitted on this project,” Allen said in an email on Wednesday. “The level of engagement from coastal residents, local leaders, and partners shows how much people care, and it matters when that input is reflected in decisions. Our public trust waters belong to everyone, and transparent review like this helps lead to better, more resilient outcomes for our coast.”

Southern Environmental Law Center Senior Attorney Ramona McGee echoed similar sentiments in a release Wednesday.

“This decision is welcome news for the people of Wilmington and beyond who cherish the lower Cape Fear River and its surrounding natural areas,” McGee stated. “This $1.3 billion project would put at risk the communities and wildlife that call this region home by exacerbating flooding, destroying habitat, and damaging wetlands. The Lower Cape Fear is already threatened by sea-level rise and industrial pollution – we shouldn’t be further damaging this special place with an unnecessary and costly project.”

Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center volunteers are cooking away ahead of the Harkers Island museum’s annual Taste of Core Sound winter edition happening this weekend.

When doors open at 6 p.m. Friday, ticketholders can snack on oysters on the half shell, crab dip, fruit and cheese before the meal is served at 7 p.m. This year’s menu includes Hancock salad, stewed conchs, scallop fritters, crabmeat casserole, garlic shrimp and rice, stewed redheads and rutabaga, chicken and pastry, winter collards, sweet potatoes, squash casserole and light rolls.

Guest speaker, Beaufort native Geoffrey Adair, a retired District Attorney Craven County and historian, will take the podium around 8 p.m., while a dessert of homemade cakes is served.

“Adair, who was born and raised in Beaufort, vividly remembers the smell of Menhaden steamers moored at Beaufort’s docks, the cool air of the season’s first mullet shift and the simple pleasure of swimming across ‘the cut’ on a hot summer’s day,” organizers said.

There will be a live auction of Core Sound decoys at the close of the program.

Tickets are $100 per person for museum members and $125 for nonmembers. Ticket includes annual membership. Purchase tickets through the museum’s website.

Dare County students have an opportunity to share their insights on America’s 250th anniversary and the county’s role in the nation’s history through two programs by the Dare A250 Committee.

Dare A250 is the county’s celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, part of the statewide America 250 NC coordinated by the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

Students in third through 12th grade are encouraged to enter the committee’s essay contest and student art exhibit, both “designed to celebrate local history, highlight student talent and support innovative learning in the lead-up to the Dare A250 Faire” on April 18.

Essays may focus on the themes of freedom, community, innovation, and the diverse narratives that define American history, organizers said.

The top three winners in each grade group will receive a financial award. Winners will be recognized during the Dare County A250 Faire. Submit essays using the online form by March 15.

The A250 Student Art Showcase will be on display during the Dare County A250 Faire, when winners will be announced.

The art contest “encourages young artists to explore what America means to them—its history, its people, its challenges, and its hopes for the next 250 years,” organizers said.

Submissions must be entered by March 27. Use the online form.

Second of two parts; read part 1

Not every slave master in Moses Grandy’s life was cruel. Some actively worked with Grandy to help him buy his freedom.

There was “Richard Furley, who … gave me a pass to work for myself.”

The agreement between Furley and Grandy was simple.

“I obtained work by the piece where I could, and paid him out of my earnings what we had agreed on; I maintained myself on the rest, and saved what I could…He paid seventy, eighty, or ninety dollars a year for me, and I paid him twenty or thirty dollars a year more than that.”

Sometime around 1813 or 1814 Grandy noted “the English blockaded the Chesapeake, which made it necessary to send merchandize from Norfolk to Elizabeth city by the Grand Canal, so that it might get to sea by Pamlico Sound and Ocracock Inlet…”

A skilled waterman by this time, he “took some canal boats on shares; Mr. Grice … was the owner of them.”

Most likely that is Mr. Charles Grice, described in a National Register of Historic Places survey of Elizabeth City as “the leading merchant in Elizabeth City’s early years.”

Grandy’s arrangement with Grice gives an indication of how valuable and trusted Grandy was. “I gave him one-half of all I received for freight: out of the other half, I had to victual and man the boats, and all over that expense was my own profit,” he described as the business arrangement.

It was during this time, when visiting “my brother Benjamin returned from the West Indies,” that how cruel and capricious life was for an enslaved person becomes clear.

Grandy was in one room and in another room “heard the heavy blows of a hammer…went to see what was going on. I looked into the store, and saw my brother lying on his back on the floor, and Mr. Williams, who had bought him, driving staples over his wrists and ankles; an iron bar was afterwards put across his breast, which was also held down by staples.”

His brother had done nothing wrong, he was told, “but that his master had failed, and he was sold towards paying the debts.”

Grandy Tries to Buy His Freedom

Although increasingly independent, Moses Grandy was still owned by James Grandy and at the suggestion of Grice, Moses asked how much would it cost to buy his freedom.

After considerable negotiation, $600 was the agreed price.

“I then went heartily to work, and whenever I paid him (James) for my time, I paid him something also towards my freedom, for which he gave me receipts,” Grandy recalled.

When $600 was reached, Moses went to his master and “he tore up all the receipts: I told him he ought not to have done so; he replied it did not signify, for as soon as court-day came, he should give me my free papers.”

Read the first part: Enslaved in Camden County, Moses Grandy knew its cruelty

When the court date came, James “was playing at billiards, and would not go with me.”

Concerned his chance for freedom would be lost, Moses went to the Grices and asked for help. Mrs. Grice sent for James who “cursed her, and went out of the house.”

Mr. Grice then met with James and he agreed to go to court and sign the papers. Instead “he rode away, and kept away till court was over” and sold Moses for $600 to a Mr. Trewitt.

It was the first of three attempts by Grandy to buy his freedom.

Trewitt, agreed to the same arrangement Grandy had had with Grice and that $600 would buy his freedom.

After two and a half years, Grandy had paid the full $600. Trewitt on Christmas Eve asked him, though, to take a letter to a Mr. Mews on Newbegun Creek, a small tributary to the Pasquotank River, in Weeksville.

When he delivered the letter, Mews read it “and looking up at me said, ‘Well, you belong to me.’”

Trewitt had used Grandy as security on a loan and failed in his payments.

“‘Mews’ was almost assuredly William T. Muse, a Pasquotank land speculator who owned slaves and more than twenty thousand acres of swamp forest. Muse, who had not really wanted Grandy, sold him back to Sawyer,” Cecelski wrote.

Initially his time with Sawyer went well. His second wife was owned by Sawyer, and Grandy’s maritime skills afforded him a better life and more freedom than most other enslaved people.

“I got into a fair way of buying myself again; for I undertook the lightering of the shingles or boards out of the Dismal Swamp …” Grandy said.

But Sawyer had gone into business with “his two sons-in-law at Norfolk, who failed; in consequence of which, he sold eighteen coloured people, his share of the Swamp (lightering), and two plantations.”

Grandy was again in the fields, but this time may have been the worst.

“The overseer was a bad one, his name was Brooks,” Grandy said.

Working in the field, if a worker did not put in sufficient effort, “One black man is kept on purpose to whip the others in the field; if he does not flog with sufficient severity, he is flogged himself: he whips severely, to keep the whip from his own back.”

Grandy witnessed Brooks kill “a girl named Mary” and “also killed a boy about twelve years old. He had no punishment, or even trial, for either.”

After years working as a waterman, the hard labor of field work was wearing him down and Grandy told Sawyer that he had “not been used to it for a long time; that his overseer was the worst that had ever been on the plantation, and that I could not stand it.”

Grandy pointed to how little food the field hands were given, Sawyer agreed to provide more food. The slaves working in the field “much rejoiced that I got this additional allowance for them. But I was not satisfied; I wanted liberty.”

A payment of $230 had already been made to Sawyer, and Grandy again began negotiations for his freedom.

Sawyer agreed to sell Grandy for the $600 he paid for him plus the $230 already given him. Grandy, “hired an old horse and started for Norfolk.” At Deep Creek he went to the house of “Captain Edward Minner … in former days I had done much business for him.”

Minner agreed to pay the $600 for Grandy’s freedom with the understanding that he would be repaid. At first Sawyer refused to sell his property, but Minner “shewed him the paper he had given me, saying, ‘Mr. Sawyer, is not this your handwriting?’”

Unlike everyone else who had purchased him, Minner was adamant that he would not own another human being.

“Mind, gentlemen, I do not want him for a slave; I want to buy him for freedom. He will repay me the money, and I shall not charge him a cent of interest for it. I would not have a coloured person to drag me down to hell, for all the money in the world,” Moses recalled Minner telling Sawyer.

By 1828, Grandy had repaid Minner and he had his “free papers, so that my freedom was quite secure, my feelings were greatly excited. I felt to myself so light, that I almost thought I could fly, and in my sleep I was always dreaming of flying over woods and rivers.”

He moved north, first to Providence, Rhode Island, then to Boston, Massachusetts. He traveled the world as sailor, telling of trips to “St. John’s in Porto Rico…(and) several other voyages, and particularly two to the Mediterranean. The last was to the East Indies.”

He had now saved enough to purchase the freedom of his wife. “I sent it to Virginia…She came to me at Boston. I dared not go myself to fetch her, lest I should be again deprived of my liberty, as often happens to free coloured people,” Grandy said.

He was also able to buy his son’s freedom as well and learned that at least two of his six daughters had purchased their freedom.

Grandy, now a free man, found life in the northern states troubling.

“Although I was free as to the law, I was made to feel severely the difference between persons of different colours. No black man was admitted to the same seats in churches with the whites, nor to the inside of public conveyances, nor into street coaches or cabs …” he said, adding however, “the abolitionists boldly stood up for us, and through them things are much changed for the better.”

Grandy was particularly harsh in his criticism of the American Colonization Society, the organization that was founded to send Black and enslaved people back to Africa.

“As to the settlement of Liberia on the coast of Africa, the free coloured people of America do not willingly go to it. America is their home: if their forefathers lived in Africa, they themselves know nothing of that country,” he indicated.

Enoch Sawyer was a vice president of the Camden County American Colonization Society the Raleigh Register, and North-Carolina State Gazette recorded in 1825.

Although illiterate Grandy was a keen observer of events and the personalities of the people he met along his journey. There were slave owners, as he noted, that did treat their human property well, at least by the standards of many slave owners.

But overall “The proprietors, though they live in luxury, generally die in debt: their negroes are so hardly treated, that no profit is made by their labour. Many of them are great gamblers. At the death of a proprietor, it commonly happens that his coloured people are sold towards paying his debts. So it must and will be with the masters, while slavery continues: when freedom is established, I believe they will begin to prosper greatly.”

The concept of freedom and its importance to the individual is an idea Grandy returns to a number of times throughout “Late a Slave in America.”

“Slavery,” he observed, “will teach any man to be glad when he gets freedom.”

Get a peek of the underwater world of maritime archaeology at 4 p.m. Wednesday with the Coastal Studies Institute on the East Carolina University on its Outer Banks Campus.

The program, “Maritime Mysteries,” at the facility in Wanchese is an opportunity to learn about North Carolina’s maritime history and how its studied.

The interactive lesson is for families with children 7 and older.

The session is open to the public with limited availability, on a first-come, first-serve basis, at $10 per person.

Contact Lauren Kerlin at kerlinl22@ecu.edu or 252-475-5451 with questions or for more information.

First of two parts

A highway sign installed last September in Camden County calls attention to Moses Grandy, born there an enslaved person, and the story of his life told in “Narrative of the Life of Moses Grandy; Late a Slave in the United States of America.”

The book was published in London, England, in 1843. When the book was printed, he was, Grandy guessed, 56 years old, although as he notes in his book, “Slaves seldom know exactly how old they are: neither they nor their masters set down the time of a birth; the slaves, because they are not allowed to write or read; and the masters, because they only care to know what slaves belong to them.”

The book was published the following year in the United States.

There are no kindly “Old Black Joes,” elderly enslaved people treasured for their wisdom by caring masters in Moses Grandy’s autobiography. Rather, early in the book, there is a description of his mother, “blind and very old … living in a little hut, in the woods, after the usual manner of old worn-out slaves.”

Grandy observed late in his narrative that, “As far as the owner is concerned, they live or die as it happens; it is just the same thing as turning out an old horse.”

The book is filled with Simon Legree-like characters, capricious in their cruelty, and chilling descriptions of the horrors of the American institution of slavery. Legree is a harsh slaveowner in Harriet Beacher Stowe’s fictional, antislavery novel, “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”

Yet the book is more than that. Grandy’s eye for detail and his memory are remarkable. What emerges from the pages is an exceptional and complex description of the institution of slavery.

It is Grandy’s penchant for remembering names that may provide the most damning indictment of slavery.

The title page of the book carries the warning, “It is not improbable that some of the proper names in the following pages are incorrectly spelled. M. G., owing to the laws of the slave states, being perfectly illiterate, his pronunciation is the only guide.” Yet, if some names are muddled in pronunciation and untraceable, there is still plenty to go on.

He describes his first master, Billy Grandy, as “a hard-drinking man” who “sold away many slaves.”

The Camden County 1790 census lists 18 slaves in the William Grandy household, but its apparent there had been more.

“I remember four sisters and four brothers; my mother had more children, but they were dead or sold away before I can remember. I was the youngest,” Moses Grandy recalled. 

His master died when he was probably 9 and the Grandy will bequeathed Moses to James Grandy, the son of William Grandy. James and Moses were the same age and there was a stipulation in the will that Moses would be hired out until “my master and myself were twenty-one years old.”

When he was old enough “to be taken away from my mother and put to field-work, I was hired out for the year, by auction, at the Court House, every January; this is the common practice with respect to slaves belonging to persons who are under age.”

The first person to buy his services, a Mr. Kemp, “used me pretty well; he gave me plenty to eat and sufficient clothing,” he then went to Jemmy Coates, “a severe man”

“Because I could not learn his way of hilling corn, he flogged me naked with a severe whip made of a very tough sapling…The point of it at last entered my belly and broke off; leaving an inch and a-half outside…On looking down I saw it sticking, out of my body: I pulled it out and the blood spouted after it. The wound festered, and discharged very much at the time, and hurt me for years after,” he said.

“I was next with Mr. Enoch Sawyer of Camden county,” Grandy recalled.

A prominent North Carolina politician immediately after the Revolution, Sawyer was deeply involved in developing the Great Dismal Swamp Canal. If the gravestone the Elizabeth City Economist found in November, 1897 is to be believed, Sawyer was a good man.

“Sacred to the memory of Enoch Sawyer, who was born on the 10th of March, 1758. and departed this life on the 16th of March, 1827, age 68 and six days. He was universally beloved and respected, and a faithful servant of the Lord Jesus. Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his Saints,” the Economist reported.

If Sawyer was a good man to his neighbors and peers, to Grandy, “It was cruel living.”

“We had not near enough of either victuals or clothes … I have often ground the husks of Indian corn over again in a hand-mill, for the chance of getting something to eat out of it,” Grandy reported. “In severe frosts, I was compelled to go into the fields and woods to work, with my naked feet cracked and bleeding from extreme cold.”

If the living was cruel in working for Sawyer, Grandy learned a skill that gave him a degree of freedom very few enslaved people enjoyed.

“The young Moses Grandy tended the ferry across the Narrows on the Pasquotank River,” historian David Cecelski wrote in his 1994 article “Moses Grandy: A Slave Waterman’s Life,” written for the Institute for Southern Studies.

The Black watermen were, Cecelski wrote, “an elite fraternity … both irreplaceable to the plantation economy, and subversive of the racial bondage that fueled it.”

That skill served Grandy well, raising his importance as a commodity, and the value that was placed on his skill as a waterman underscores how complex the institution of American slavery was.

After three years working for Sawyer his services were acquired by “Mr. George Furley (probably George Ferebee, early postmaster of South Mills) … he employed me as a car-boy in the Dismal swamp; I had to drive lumber, &. I had plenty to eat and plenty of clothes. I was so overjoyed… that I then thought I would not have left the place to go to heaven.”

Although no longer working under Sawyer, the “cruel living” touched him once again.

“I married a slave belonging to Mr. Enoch Sawyer,” he said. After eight months of marriage, he was returning home on a Friday, when he “heard a noise behind me, on the road which ran by the side of the canal … When they came up to me, one of them cried out, ‘Moses, my dear!’… It was my wife. She cried out to me, ‘I am gone.’

His wife had been sold.

He was able to walk with her for a short distance “and bid her farewell. I have never seen or heard of her from that day to this. I loved her as I loved my life.”

Next in the series: To purchase his freedom

From the starvation and struggle of the ill-fated Lost Colony to the house-snatching fury of the latest nor’easter, endurance has always been a primary occupation on North Carolina’s remote Outer Banks. Even today, with soaring bridges and ribbons of asphalt connecting the outside world, a blustery winter day can isolate a soul in relentless gray.

But for locals who call Hatteras Island home, one bite of a savory, golden brown fish cake reminds them why they choose to stay on these unsteady sands.

Sharon Peele Kennedy understood that devotion better than most. A culinary icon known through her cookbook, “What’s for Supper,” and her voice on local radio stations, she was the primary guardian of Outer Banks foodways.

For Kennedy, who passed in January 2024, a plate of fish cakes wasn’t just a meal; it was an essential starting point for stories about the traditional Hatteras way of life she cherished.

To taste a fish cake in the “Banker” style, the name locals use for the ancestral residents of these islands, is to take a bite of history. Born from the resourceful kitchens of coastal families, these aren’t the typical heavily seasoned fried patties. Just as their forebears did at least two centuries ago, cooks here hand-flake fresh, local fish and then gently fold it with mashed potatoes and not much else.

Kennedy’s own recipe was handed down through generations. Her father, Maxton Peele, was a commercial long-haul and pound-net fisherman who cooked “in the traditional island style” of barely seasoning seafood to preserve its delicate flavor, Kennedy wrote in “What’s for Supper.” Her mother, Juanita Peele, was an expert at adding “unexpected touches” to those dishes.

Kennedy started working at Hatteras-area seafood restaurants when she was just 12 and grew up to become a champion for North Carolina’s commercial fishing families.

“This is a very traditional food on these banks,” Kennedy told me while she shaped fish cakes for a 2023 fundraising dinner in Nags Head to benefit NC Catch, a nonprofit promoting North Carolina seafood. 

Usually, leftover fish was “repurposed by mixing it all together … potatoes, onions and fish,” Kennedy said. “A little salt, a little pepper and an egg. And then shape it. That’s it.”

Such simplicity was forged in an era when grocery stores were nonexistent on Hatteras and thrift was the essential lifeline for island families. The first paved road didn’t open until the 1950s, and a boat or ferry was the only access to the island until a bridge opened in 1963. As Kennedy often reminded her audiences, Bankers “used what they had … what grew in the garden.”

Fortunately, fish was plentiful and could be salt-preserved for the larder. Onions and white potatoes – long known as “Irish potatoes” along the North Carolina shore from Virginia to eastern Carteret County – were the other essentials. Both thrived in sandy coastal soil. The humble staples formed the heart of the Banker fish cake.

Those potatoes and onions hint at how fish cakes became a Hatteras Island tradition, though the local recipe’s exact origin and timeline remain a mystery. When English settlers first arrived at Roanoke Island, the British were not yet potato eaters. While Europeans were introduced to the vegetable in the mid-1500s, most did not widely accept it until the 1700s.

While some credit Scandinavian sailors with the invention of potato-based fiskekaker, others point to the coastal traditions of Ireland. There, boiling potatoes in seawater to serve alongside the daily catch was one kind of survival meal, a flavor profile strikingly similar to the fish cake.

Regardless of who first mashed the two together, the concept found a perfect home on the Outer Banks.

For decades, the threat of piracy and the memory of the Lost Colony kept many settlers away from those shores, but by the mid-1600s, potato and onion farming had taken root in the nearby Albemarle region. As piracy dissipated in the early 1700s and more settlers moved to the barrier islands, they brought “Irish potatoes” and onions with them.

All the ingredients were finally lined up for an Outer Banks fish cake. While Kennedy’s cookbook also offered variations made with rice or hush puppy batter, the basic recipe many Hatteras locals use has remained unchanged: a modest, resourceful marriage of the garden and the sea.

As Kennedy shaped fish cakes for that NC Catch dinner at Basnight’s Lone Cedar Café in Nags Head, her son Jeffery Kennedy stepped in to grab a full tray. He gently laid the plump fish cakes into a deep fryer behind his mother. The pair’s easy cadence made it clear that this was not the first time the family had cooked fish cakes together.

Sizzling in oil, the fish cakes sent up a mouthwatering aroma. As Jeffery lifted the golden-brown disks from the fryer, his mother advised that any leftover fish would do – drum, bluefish, speckled trout, mackerel, whatever was available – whether baked, broiled or boiled. Throughout the process, she repeated how easy fish cakes were to prepare, offering not a hint of how utterly delicious they would be.

“Show her Jeffery,” Kennedy told her son. He picked up one of the hot patties and split it open with his hands. Inside, flaked white fish mingled with mashed potatoes, sending up a delectable fragrance. Meaty and substantial, the cake somehow maintained a pillowy texture that contrasted beautifully with its crisp exterior. One bite and I wished I could stay on the Outer Banks forever.

Fish Cakes

4 cups of cooked fish

3 cups of mashed potatoes

1 small onion diced or 1/3 cup chopped green onions

2 eggs, beaten

Salt and pepper

Flake fish in a bowl with mashed potatoes, add onions and beaten eggs, season to taste. Shape into small patties. Fry in about ¼-inch (deep) medium hot oil, until nice and brown.

Source: “What’s for Supper” by Sharon Peele Kennedy

Note: Because cooks often rely on leftover fish for fish cakes, the patties are traditionally enjoyed for breakfast. Try them in place of English muffins, use fried eggs instead of poached on top and skip the bacon for a delicious “eggs Benedict.”

Friends of Hammocks Beach and Bear Island plan to honor Saturday the North Carolina Teacher’s Association, the only organization for African American educators in the state, and a fundamental part of Hammocks Beach State Park history.

Set for 3 p.m. in the teacher’s building at 1572 Hammock Beach Road, Swansboro, the nonprofit friends group is recognizing “those who paved the way to help shape our coastline through the preservation of Bear Island and shaped the minds of many, through education,” organizers said.

The $40 donation covers entry to the event and a meal. Register online.

The land that is now Hammocks Beach State Park was purchased by Dr. William Sharpe, a white neurosurgeon, in the 1940s for hunting and fishing. Sharpe hired John Hurst, a Black country club guide, to manage the site.

Sharpe intended to leave the land to the Hurst family, but Mrs. Gertrude Hurst, who was a school teacher, suggested the property be donated to theNorth Carolina Teachers Association, to provide recreational opportunities for Black residents in a segregated state, according to the state park.

In the early 1950s, the park became a gathering space for Black residents. In 1961, the state park was created, becoming the first coastal park in North Carolina specifically for Black visitors. After the Civil Rights Act of 1964, the park was integrated.

“FHBI proudly honors the North Carolina Teacher’s Association and hopes that you will join us as we share a meal and celebrate the memories that helped to create a space unlike any other,” the group said.

The State Archives is commemorating the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Moores Creek Bridge with a virtual lunch and learn program, “Marching Toward Revolution.”

The talk on the first decisive victory was fought northwest of Wilmington in present-day Pender County, on Feb. 27, 1776, is scheduled for noon Thursday. Register in advance on Zoom.

The State Archives, a division of the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, is hosting the program featuring archivists Alison Thurman, Josh Hager and Katie Crickmore.

Related: Pender County event honors patriots’ first win of Revolution

The three are to discuss North Carolina’s advance toward the Revolution, including details about the Committees of Safety, Josiah Martin’s flight and the Battle of Moores Creek Bridge itself, fought between loyalists, mostly Scottish immigrants, and the patroits.

“This battle marked the last broadsword charge by Scottish Highlanders and the first significant victory for the Patriots in the American Revolution,” according to Moores Creek National Battlefield’s website.

For more information, contact Adrienne Berney at adrienne.berney@dncr.nc.gov or 919-814-6863.

Editor’s note: Coastal Review regularly features the work of North Carolina historian David Cecelski, who writes about the history, culture and politics of the North Carolina coast. More of his work can be found on his personal website.

In May of 1938, a young woman named Muriel L. Wolff spent several weeks interviewing people in Terra Ceia, a community of Dutch immigrants, African Americans, and other settlers who had all come to that part of the North Carolina coast to try to make a new home in hard times.

When she went to Terra Ceia, Wolff was working for the Federal Writers’ Project, a New Deal program that employed writers who were struggling during the Great Depression. Some wrote guidebooks; others, like Wolff, documented American life and history.

Wolff talked with all kinds of people while she was in Terra Ceia. She then came back to her home in Chapel Hill and wrote a chronicle of her time there and what she had learned.

In that account, Wolff also included at least partial transcripts of the interviews that she had conducted in Terra Ceia.

Some time ago, I found the original copy of Muriel Wolff’s writings on Terra Ceia in the Federal Writers’ Project Papers at the Southern Historical Collection at UNC-Chapel Hill.

Wolff opened her report with these words:

“About twelve miles from the blue waters of the Pamlico Sound in Beaufort County there lies an area of drained swamp land, so rich that it was once given the name ‘Heavenly Earth’ although the people who live there facetiously call the region `The Dismal.’

“Oddly enough, both names fit because it is a community of sharp contrasts.

“There are comfortable, well-built houses with all conveniences and there are miserable little shacks that seem to be falling apart; there are big dairy farms with 60, 70, or a 100 cows, but many families do not possess even one; on the vast, black fields, thousands of bushels of potatoes and corn, grain and beans are grown, yet laborers steal because they are hungry.”

That was during the last years of the Great Depression, but I guess some things have not changed: that seems very much like the world in which I grew up, and also very much like the world in which we live now.

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When Muriel Wolff went to Terra Ceia, she was still quite young. She was born in Concord, between Greensboro and Charlotte, in 1910, so she was only 28 years old at the time.

Her passion was for the theater. She began her acting career at North Carolina College for Women, now UNC-Greensboro, where she appeared in student productions between 1926 and 1928.

After leaving Women’s College, she studied at the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in New York City. She then came back south and join the Carolina Playmakers, the well-known repertory company based at the University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill.

She toured with the Playmakers from 1929 to 1931. At that time, the troupe was writing, producing, and performing plays set in some of North Carolina’s most hardscrabble communities: the state’s cotton mill villages, its tobacco farming hamlets, its mountain hollows.

One of Wolff’s most memorable roles was the lead in the original cast of “Strike Song,” a play that was set against the backdrop of a textile workers’ strike in the Carolina Piedmont.

In “Strike Song,” Wollf played “Lily May Brothers,” the most dynamic and inspiring of the strike’s leaders.

Her character was modeled after Ella May Wiggins, a 29-year-old mother, songwriter, and labor activist who was murdered in retaliation for her union activism in Gastonia, in September 1929.

Sometime in 1931, Wolff evidently found that she could not make a living with the Playmakers and took a job as secretary to William T. Couch, the director of the University of North Carolina Press.

However, she continued to moonlight with the Playmakers and to act in local experimental theater for most of the 1930s.

Her work with Couch led to her job with the Federal Writers’ Project. In 1938, in addition to his job at UNC Press, Couch was also serving as the southern director of the Federal Writers’ Project.

In that capacity, Couch employed Muriel Wolff to conduct a series of oral history interviews in Terra Ceia.

In all likelihood, he had first heard of Terra Ceia through several recent magazine and newspaper stories that had featured the community’s Dutch immigrants and their flower farms.

In the 1930s, when other cash crops seemed lacking, a number of Dutch immigrants in Terra Ceia had turned to growing flowers on a commercial scale.

Before long, the sight of their broad fields of tulips, iris, and daffodils began to attract crowds of visitors to the little community in the spring.

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Terra Ceia’s roots reached back to the late 1800s and early 1900s, when the Roper Lumber Co. and the Norfolk & Southern Railroad worked hand in hand to clearcut and drain hundreds of thousands of acres of virgin swamp forest on that part of the North Carolina coast.

A pair of brothers, John A. and Samuel Wilkinson, were the driving force behind the founding of Terra Ceia.

They were farmers in a little crossroads community called Wilkinson (named, of course, after their family), a few miles east of Terra Ceia. They bought thousands of acres of cutover land from the Roper Lumber Co. and drained and burnt off what was left of the swamp forest.

Once the forest was gone, the Wilkinson brothers marketed the reclaimed swampland to farmers. They took special pains to recruit white Midwesterners, many of them immigrants.

Soon after arriving in Terra Ceia, Wolff and a young local woman, Margaret Respess, rode horseback out to Wilkinson to visit Sam Wilkinson, the only one of the brothers who still lived in the area. He was farming on the land where he and his brother had grown up.

The little settlement was not much more than Sam Wilkinson’s house, broad plains of farmland, a crowd of shacks where farmworkers lived, and a general farm supply and grocery store owned by the Wilkinson family.

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Sitting down with Muriel Wolff in the store, Sam Wilkinson told her about the birth of Terra Ceia.

He told her:

“When I was a boy all that land over there wasn’t anything but swamp. It was full of great big cypress and juniper trees timber that never had been cut. Well, back in 1905, I was working for the Roper Lumber Company, located over in Belhaven, and they started logging that swamp.

“To do that, they had to dig ditches and drain off some of the water, but it still wasn’t fit for anything when me and my brother bought up 20,000 acres in 1911.

“The first thing ever put in that land was stick corn—you know what that is, don’t you? You just stick a hole in the ground, drop in a grain of corn and cover it up. That corn was put in before the stumps were cleared or the land really drained, but it produced between 15 and 20 bushels an acre.

“That’s when the stories got started about how rich the land was over there.

“If you don’t believe we spent the money, I’ll tell you what we had to do. That was swamp land, remember, and ditches wouldn’t drain off all the water. There had to be 40 miles of canals besides the ditches.

“We paid $20,000 for a dredge to dig canals. It broke after the first seven miles. We bought another but it broke too before we finished.

“Then we had to put through a branch line of the railroad — 11 miles of it at $1,000 a mile. Before we could lay a track, we had to buy the right of way and buy $70,000 worth of Norfolk & Southern stock. But we got the railroad through. There it is today.

“Our original plan was to get the land in a good state for cultivation, divide it into 50-acre plots and make it available to poor people and give them a long time to pay for it. We might have been able to do this, if we hadn’t had some more bad luck.

“My brother and I both had stock in the Roper Lumber Company, and it burned without being covered with a cent of insurance.

“Another trouble was land fires. A lot of that land over at Terra Ceia is peat soil and once it gets on fire you can’t hardly put it out. When you do get it to stop smoldering, it’s been ruined.

“All the reverses we had made it impossible for us to carry out our plan. We didn’t have any capital left…. There’s been a sight of money spent on Terra Ceia, and there was a time when money was made there, when land that first sold for $15 to $20 an acre brought $200 to $300 an acre.”

Wilkinson made clear that those days were long gone. “Well, we got experience, but it cost us mighty high,” Wolff quoted him.

He then walked out of the store and across the yard to his house to have his dinner before he headed back into the fields.

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On another morning, a local farm woman named Odell Snows took Wolff to visit a Mrs. Tantrelle in Terra Ceia. Tantrelle was the wife of an Italian immigrant who managed a large farm for a group of northern investors. Wolff was taking room and board with the Snows family.

“It was mid-morning when we started out in the new Plymouth,” Wolff wrote.

“The Snows live in a small settlement which might be called the center of Terra Ceia. Here is the only store run by a white in the community, here the Christian church and the Dutch church which was once the schoolhouse.

“We drove down the dusty road. On one side of it a few scattered houses stood in bare dirt on the edge of the fields; along the other side ran the canal and the railroad track, beyond which were fields.

“Odell drove slowly and explained the landscape. `Negro tenants live in that house, and there too. Yes, most of them are Negroes, except in that place. They’re some white tenants of Mr. Radcliffe’s.

“`An Italian man lives in the place there by that big barn. They say he can write music and poetry and play any kind of instrument.

“`See how far down from the road this land is? I can remember when it was almost level with the road, but it’ s burned down that far.’”

She was referring to the effects of peat fires on the landscape in Terra Ceia. In some places, the layer of peat beneath the swamp forest had been 10 and 12 feet deep, so that when it burned off it left the roads far higher than the surrounding fields and pastures.

In her report, Wolff continued to quote Odell Snows.

“`Now down here is the land owned by that Winston-Salem man who doesn’t do no farming at all. He just ships the dirt. His overseer has a gang of Negro men working most all the time, digging up the dirt, packing it in bags and loading it on that freight car that stands over on the siding.’”

“`When they have a carload (of the peat soil),’” Wolff continued, still quoting Odell Snow, “`the train will come through and pick it up. They say he gets a good price from people who buy the soil to put on their lawns and gardens. It’s so rich I guess it takes the place of fertilizer.’”

She went on:

“When we had come about a mile down the road from Odell’s, we crossed the canal to turn into the road where the Tantrelles lived. Built by a Northern company many years before, this little settlement had an overgrown, uncared for look which was still somehow picturesque.

“About a dozen steep-roofed cottages were spaced along both sides of a shady road and a canal bordered with sycamore trees. We left the car in the road and reached the Tantrelle’s house by way of a bridge that arched over the canal where several ducks were swimming.”

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The settlers in Terra Ceia had taken many different paths to that part of the North Carolina coast.

As Wolff went about doing her interviews for the Federal Writers’ Project, she found that many of the black families in Terra Ceia had come from the east side of the Pungo River, in Hyde County.

They were largely the grandchildren and great-grandchildren of African Americans who had been enslaved laborers along the shores of the Pamlico Sound before the Civil War.

While in Terra Ceia, Wolff also met people—white people— from Appalachia and others from as far away as Iowa, Kansas, and Michigan. At least a couple were Italian immigrants. More were Dutch immigrants.

In her report, Wolff described meeting a husband and wife from Mt. Airy, N.C., in the Appalachian foothills. She met another couple from near Bryson City, N.C., in the heart of the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Still another couple had come all the way from Kansas City.

Yet another husband and wife that she met were Dutch immigrants who had first settled in the Midwest.

Things had not worked out for them there, so they had left and moved a thousand miles east to the North Carolina coast, not to Terra Ceia at first, but to a farm colony called New Holland.

New Holland was located on the southern shore of Lake Mattamuskeet, 45 miles east of Terra Ceia. It had not lasted long. The colony’s fate had depended on a grand scheme to drain the lake and turn it into farmland, but the lake had turned out not to be so easy to do away with.

Like countless others trying to find a home in the 1930s, when so many lives were tossed and turned about, the Dutch family pulled up roots again. They left New Holland and put their hopes for a new life in Terra Ceia.

The Great Depression had been hard on all of those people. All of them were trying to make a new beginning.

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I found Muriel Wolff to be at her best as a writer when she was chronicling small moments. She often recalled even the briefest encounters with a kind of grace and beauty that made them memorable.

One of those was a visit with an African American woman named Sarah Lovett.

Sarah Lovett and her husband, the Rev. James “Jim” Lovett, lived in White Six, a settlement of mainly African American families on the eastern side of Terra Ceia, on the old dirt road that led to Pantego.

In the Fall 2010 issue of the Beaufort County Community College’s wonderful oral history journal, Life on the Pamlico, one of the college’s students quoted her mother, saying: “We lived in an area known as White Six. It was given that name because it was a predominantly black neighborhood, but there were six white families that live on farms in the area.”

Most of the black residents of White Six worked in the local flower fields as often as they could get work in them.

The Lovetts were both from Hyde County, but had moved to White Six when times had gotten hard on that side of the Pungo River.

When they first arrived in White Six, the Rev. Lovett had made a decent living as a barber, which I imagine he did in addition to working in the fields. That was before the Great Depression, and he and Sarah had even been able to save up enough money to buy a bit of farmland.

In addition to barbering and working in the fields, James Lovett was the minister at one of the two African American churches in White Six.

Wolff wrote:

“On one of his plots of black earth, Jim Lovett built a small white house and Sarah… coaxed thin little borders of verbena, roses, and privet to grow along the edges of the bare front yard.

“It was in this yard that Sarah stood with me one fresh May morning, while three small boys and one girl looked up at us with solemn black eyes.”

“Sarah’s voice was as soft and charming as her personality,” Wolff wrote.

“She had a way of cocking her head to one side and squinting at the sky as she talked.”

The Depression Years — and a late freeze that spring — had been devastating to the people in White Six, Sarah Lovett told Wolff.

“`I work in the field by the day, when I can get it. Everybody was mighty hurt this year when the flower crop froze. It knocked so many out of work — especially the women folks. Out here in White Six, where most of them work by the day, it’s been a hard spring.’”

Sarah Lovett continued, “`Two of these little children I’m keeping today belong to a neighbor of mine who’s been sitting at home worrying for a month because there wasn’t nothing for her to do. Today she got a job digging iris. That will bring her a dollar for every day she works.’”

Sarah Lovett told Wolff that, unlike some other settlements around Terra Ceia, at least most of her neighbors in White Six could put food on the table for their children, even if it wasn’t always much.

She said, “’It’s a good thing so many of the White Six people own their own houses and enough ground to have a garden, some chickens, and hogs. They manage to raise most of what they have to eat, anyway.’”

I could almost see the two women there in Sarah Lovett’s kitchen, the humble cottages of White Six all around them, the endless fields, the great labyrinth of canals leading down into the sea.

There, with the sunlight coming in the window, they talked about life and told stories and held one another up a bit, as people do.

That is all I wanted from becoming a historian: to be able to listen to voices like theirs, and the more of them the better, a gentle murmur rising all around us, like some great tenderness in the dark.

Second installment of a two-part series special to Coastal Review

My mullet-fishing experience began in Carteret County, over half a century ago, but over the subsequent years and many scientific expeditions to find fossils, we have continued to cross paths with our “jumpin’ mullet,” catching them in places as far-flung as Hawaii and seeing them in markets of Europe, Africa, and Madagascar.

We have long marveled that our local tradition for drying mullet roe, which goes back many generations in my wife Lida Pigott’s family, somehow has its roots on the Mediterranean Island of Sardinia, the source of “Cabras gold,” the prized bottarga di muggine of Italian cuisine.

On my first visit to this enchanted island, just off the coast of Italy and second only to Sicily in size in the Mediterranean, I presented a talk at an international meeting of paleontologists and archaeologists on the topic of “Early Man in Island Environments,” featuring my years of work studying prehistoric Madagascar. I was fully captivated by the mysterious Sardinian landscapes, with more than 7,000 ancient ruins from the Neolithic and Bronze Age, some as old as Stonehenge and the pyramids.

I told myself I had to get back to Sardinia one day with more time to absorb it. I knew Lida would love this place because it is so strange and at once familiar. That was 1988.

We finally got back there a few months ago, for a nice long stay, and one of our projects was to explore the very heartland of one of Italian cuisine’s most famous products, bottarga di muggine, our own beloved mullet roe.

The wonderful archaeological museums and sites on the island tell the story well. Big estuaries with hydrology and scale similar to our own Core Sound, known locally as stagno (ponds), have been exploited for mullet seasonally, just as here in coastal NC or Hawaii or hundreds of other places in all the warm oceans of the world.

Mullet have undoubtedly fed Sardinians steadily for 5,000 years or more, from the indigenous Nuragic culture, through successive colonization by the Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Romans, Spaniards, and medieval feudal lords.

In fact, one of the last vestiges of feudalism as an economic strategy anywhere in Europe was the mullet fishery of famous bottarga producers like the Stagno di Mar `e Pontis, near Cabras, Sardinia.

By the mid-1900s this ancient lucrative industry, still owned by what today might be described as an “oligarch,” was regulated through eight levels of bureaucracy, whereby so many folks with fancy titles and allegiance to the “owner” got such large cuts that sometimes not much was left for the fishermen who did the catching.

Long-standing issues flared up regarding the maintenance of the canals to the ocean that have regulated the water flow for centuries, even millennia. Poaching was rampant. The fishery was in a poor state.

Something had to be done, and some violence came with the transition, as fishermen’s consortiums, government officials, and local business interests tried to set things right in a variety of sometimes conflicting ways.

In an infamous 1978 crime incident, the feudal overlord, Don Efisio Carta, was kidnapped by banditi and never found, although a ransom was collected.

By the 1980s, the now outlawed feudal hierarchy had been replaced by a consortium of fishermen’s cooperatives, and to this day they run a thriving fishery based primarily on the mullet and bottarga but also with eel and tuna fisheries, shellfish farming, and other maritime industries to sustain the large work force through the off-season for the migratory mullet.

Over several weeks, Lida and I had been eating seafood, especially targeting bottarga dishes, all over Italy and Sardinia. We were especially excited to arrive in the absolute world capital of the jumpin’ mullet and the bottarga industry, Cabras, for a few days of culinary “mullet research.”

We visited the splendid local museums, but as mullet fishermen ourselves we were just as interested to see where the fishermen store their nets and dock their boats, what kinds of tackle they are using, and what they are generally about.

We were amazed to discover that the Cabras cooperative uses a single type of molded fiberglass skiff, a stout outboard motor of a single brand, and nets nearly all alike in tidy labeled bins and net bags.

As net hangers ourselves, we were impressed that their tackle and techniques looked almost exactly like ours, down to the corks and knots.

The folks at a local store selling bottarga and smoked mullet insisted that, with our interest in the subject, we really had to visit the museum dedicated to the history of the local fishing culture, just down the road a bit.

We walked there along a causeway through the vast wetlands to reach the cluster of buildings on a high place out in the marsh, beside a deep channel leading out into the stagno.

Part of the “fish tourism” project of the Cabras fishermen’s consortium, Mar’e Pontis Museum had a sweet friendly charm that reminded me of our own Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center on Harkers Island.

The site also hosts a great restaurant, featuring local seafood, and an ancient chapel where the fishermen have prayed for safe and productive fishing for almost a thousand years.

From Pinuccio Carrus, a mullet fisherman who also guides museum tours, we learned about the boats, fishing gear, and thousands of years of fishing and fishing culture on this spot.

Probably since the Neolithic, fishermen here used small agile boats made entirely of reeds from the marsh, and some still do.

Wooden rowboats from years past, shaped like large high-ended canoes, similar to the gondolas of Venice, are now mostly rotting in yards, with molded fiberglass being the material of choice for most commercial fishing in the stagno today.

The museum had all kinds of nets and traps, for mullet and eels primarily, including ones that looked like our pound nets and gill nets.

Today, the fishermen use monofilament gill nets almost identical to ours in North Carolina, although the spear-fishing from reed boats is still practiced, too, much as it has been since prehistoric times.

Drawings and photos of fishing activity during the heyday of the feudal fishery show pound nets and fish corrals full of mullet with fishermen standing in their midst, taking them out by hand.

Having done a bit of that myself, I couldn’t help wondering if they had to watch out for stingrays lurking on the bottom of the mass of hemmed-in fish the way we do!

Of all the mullet-based meals of the trip – and there were many all over Italy and Sardinia – one of the most memorable was at the Restaurante de Madre de Rosy Circu in the heart of Cabras, at a junction of several of its ancient labyrinthine streets.

It was the only time anywhere that we dined on an entirely mullet-based pizza. It had a thin crust, a tomato and parsley sauce, and a topping of smoked mullet, sprinkled liberally with ground mullet roe (bottarga), a kind of double-mullet treat!

Another favorite we had several times around the island was a type of thick, rectangular local pasta with tiny clams (vongole veraci) and loads of ground bottarga. One of the best dishes was purple artichokes smothered in thin amber slices of bottarga, a feast for both the eye and palate.

Local shops sold a wonderful pâté made from bottarga and just right for any imaginable cracker.

The mullet fishery of Sardinia, although today only a small fraction of the historical fishery, seems to be doing fairly well. The industry in value-added fish products from local mullet, eel, and tuna seems to be thriving.

One change is that whereas relatively cheap U.S. mullet roe used to be imported salted or frozen to Italian factories for conversion to preciously expensive bottarga (not quite as expensive as caviar, but in that league), fish industries from Carteret County, to Manatee County, Florida (Cortez area) have sprung up that convert local mullet roe to a quality bottarga that sells on the internet for prices similar to the celebrated Sardinian stuff.

Combined with beach tourism and the draw from internationally unique 3,000-year-old giant stone statues (I Giganti di Mont’e Prama), folks there on the Sinis Peninsula seem to make a pretty good living by the stagno.

The mullet still come in large numbers from the sea every year, swelling the estuaries and feeding the people, dolphins, and birdlife, then returning to deeper water to complete their life cycle. Just like back home here in Carteret County,  and virtually all the warm coastal waters of the globe.

Our mullet is a fish for the world, a true cosmopolitan. I’m glad to have made its acquaintance in so many wonderful places.

MANTEO — Shoaling in a Roanoke Sound channel just outside Shallowbag Bay has once again prevented the state attraction Elizabeth II from leaving its moorings at Roanoke Island Festival Park for maintenance.

And once again, Dare County has agreed to help manage another dredging project for the state so the ship can motor to the Wanchese state shipyard for its overdue haul-out.

“We’re still essentially in the planning stages,” Dare County Waterways Commission administrator Barton Grover said in a recent interview. “We’re not exactly sure what path we’re going to take moving forward.”

The 43-year-old wooden-hulled vessel, built to represent a 16th-century English sailing ship that participated in Sir Walter Raleigh’s 1584-1587 Roanoke Voyages, was last hauled out for dry-dock maintenance in 2021, after sitting in brackish water for four years.

Grover said that the proposed project would be addressing the same clogged area near where the channel intersects at Roanoke Sound and Shallowbag Bay that had earlier blocked the ship from moving.

In November 2020, the county had approved a contract and a grant application to conduct maintenance dredging in the channel to allow larger vessels, including the Elizabeth II, to access Manteo harbor. The vessel, which has an 8-foot draft, was able to safely leave its dock in Dough’s Creek about a week earlier than completion of the project in late February 2021, according to the county website.

Although the Roanoke Channel is officially a federally authorized channel, Grover explained that the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers pipeline dredge does not do work north of Wanchese. Ultimately, a bucket-and-barge method was used for the 90-day project, which increased the depth of about 2.2 miles of channel from as little as 1 to 5 feet to 9 feet. Another 290 feet in a connector channel to the ship’s berth was also dredged. Costs for the $1.9 million project were appropriated by the North Carolina General Assembly, with an additional $170,000 provided by the state’s Shallow Draft Navigation Channel Dredging and Aquatic Weed Fund and the town of Manteo.

Some of the factors that come into play with the proposed dredge project, Grover said, include higher costs to dispose of the dredged material, as well as the lack of an obvious disposal area.

In the earlier projects, the material — scooped from the channel, piled onto a barge and then transported to land — was hauled off in a truck to the be placed on top of the county’s Manns Harbor landfill. But the increased expense may have made that option less attractive, he said. Other possibilities could include placement in a permitted area of water, or beneficial re-use along a shoreline or other area, he said.

Another consideration under review is whether the local hopper dredge Miss Katie would be capable of doing the necessary work instead of again using a bucket-and-barge method, Grover said. But the choice of an appropriate disposal site could also come into play in determining costs for that dredge to reach the site.

Typically planning and permitting for a similar dredge project takes at least “six-plus” months, he said. Also, the state has yet to secure the funding. Ideally, he said, a project would be ready to go during the upcoming winter of 2026-2027.

By then, the 69-foot-long ship will have been sitting in the brackish water alongside its dock in Dough’s Creek for about six years.

Michele Walker, assistant communications director at the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, said in an email responding to questions from Coastal Review that the last condition report was done by surveyor Paul C. Haley with Capt. G. W. Full & Associates Marine Surveyors in 2016, when numerous issues, including signs of rot and deterioration of the exterior and interior, were detailed.

When the vessel was hauled out in 2021, she added, Haley did not travel to the Outer Banks because of the COVID-19 pandemic, but he verified with the firm’s staff on site that the earlier repair recommendations had been completed.

“In addition, the ship is inspected annually by the U.S. Coast Guard,” Walker wrote. “This provides us approval to operate as an attraction vessel, which allows us to have passengers on board while moored.”

Walker added that the ship is maintained above the waterline throughout the year, with more extensive maintenance done while Roanoke Island Festival Park, a state museum that memorializes regional English precolonial and Native American history, and the adjacent Elizabeth II State Historic Site are closed January through mid-March.

Haley’s 2021 report, while emphasizing his familiarity with the vessel from doing the surveys in 2004, 2011 and 2016, also lauds the park for always following through on the surveyors’ recommendations.

Notably, when compromised planking documented in the earlier survey had been replaced, he said, the frames exposed during the work were observed to be in good condition. Also, all the critical repairs and plank replacements had been completed, he said.

“The vessel has a good maintenance program by the park and they haul out the vessel on a regular basis for repainting of the bottom and doing any maintenance work that requires the vessel being out of water,” he wrote.

Except for a few months in the winter, the Elizabeth II welcomes visitors aboard to experience a sailor’s view of ship life and duties, guided by interpreters in period costumes who regale them with stories.

As a representative vessel, the Elizabeth II was built based on knowledge of the tools, materials and basic designs used in Elizabethan-era shipbuilding, but there are no original design sketches of the actual merchant ships that sailed during the late 1500s to Roanoke Island from England. Still, the three-masted, square-rigged ship with dashing blue-and-white markings contrasting with its wooden hull — even while rarely moving from its dock across from the Manteo waterfront — has reliably served its mission as an ambassador for the state, the Outer Banks and Manteo’s heritage as the site of the first English colony in America.

But since the flashy ship’s 1984 launch during the town’s 400th anniversary celebration of the Roanoke Voyages, which culminated in the ill-fated “Lost Colony” that was never seen again after its governor left for supplies in 1587, once-routine day trips to visit coastal ports or join in community festivals fell by the wayside due to lack of funds, scheduling difficulties and other challenges. And gradually, even annual haul-outs started being delayed for multiple years, despite that prolonged time in the water for wooden hulls can lead to damage from shipworms and rot.

The ship’s current dockside stranding was not anticipated during the last review five years ago.

“It is the plan of this office to be present and to conduct a full survey at the haul out at the beginning of 2022,” Haley wrote in the report. “With this in mind, it is our opinion that the vessel is suitable for her present use.”

On Dec. 18, the nonprofit Friends of Elizabeth II indicated no intent to give up the ship, so to speak, posting a notice seeking to hire a new captain for the vessel. Applications were due Jan. 29. In addition to overseeing the maintenance of the ship and leading the crew and interpreters, the job’s responsibilities include training staff and volunteers in rigging, sailmaking and marine woodworking.

The required duties also illustrate that the Elizabeth II isn’t just a pretty ship decorating a small historic North Carolina town’s harbor. The captain must not only understand Coast Guard regulations associated with “moving watercraft” through waterways, the captain must be capable of “sailing the Elizabeth II as needed.”

On a clear day, the Cape Lookout Lighthouse is visible from the entrance of the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center on Harkers Island.

The black-and-white diamond lighthouse built in 1859 is the centerpiece of the Cape Lookout National Seashore, but it isn’t the only structure of historical significance on the protected, 56-mile-long barrier island system.

Construction began in 1916 on the Cape Lookout Coast Guard Station, one of three stations built on Core Banks in Carteret County, and the waterfowl museum is hosting a celebration to honor the building and what it represents: the county’s Coast Guard history and its guardsmen.

The event, “U.S. Coast Guard Station at Cape Lookout 110th Anniversary Celebration Day:  Honoring Carteret County’s Rich Coast Guard History and It’s Continuing Role in Our Community” is scheduled for 11:30 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday at the museum, 1785 Island Road.

“All U.S. Coast Guard veterans, especially those stationed at Cape Lookout, are invited to spend the day remembering and sharing the stories of Cape Lookout Station during a celebration of the 110th anniversary of the U.S. Coast Guard,” organizers said.

Coast Guard veterans, families and descendants are encouraged to bring photos for a memorial table to remember those who served, as well as photos that can be scanned and added to the museum’s collection.

Throughout the daylong event, there will be a slideshow of photos of Cape Lookout courtesy of Core Sound, National Park Service and N.C. Maritime Museums, and staff and volunteers will be conducting short interviews with those who served at Cape Lookout.

The official welcome is at 11:30 a.m., followed by lunch at noon. Reserve your spot for lunch at coresound.com/uscg.

The informal program begins at 2 p.m. with a roll call and include an update on the ongoing restoration work of the lighthouse with Cape Lookout Foundation, an event sponsor.

Cape Lookout’s Coast Guard history

The first Cape Lookout station was completed in August 1887 and a cookhouse was added five years later. In 1916, a new station was proposed for the original site, and the 1887 station was moved 60 feet away, making way for work to begin. The station was completed in 1917 and inhabited a year later. A boathouse was added in 1924, according to the U.S. Life-Saving Service Heritage Association.

The 1887 station was remodeled in the 1920s and used as living quarters for the Navy’s Radio Compass Station until the end of World War II. When the Cape Lookout Lighthouse was automated in the 1950s, the Coast Guard demolished several buildings in 1957 and sold the 1887 life-saving station building and the 1923 boathouse.

Cape Lookout Station mission and personnel were merged into the larger Fort Macon Coast Guard Station in 1982 and Cape Lookout Station was decommissioned.

The publicly owned buildings and property were transferred two years later to the Cape Lookout National Seashore. The 1887 station and boathouse were privately owned until 2003 when both buildings were turned over to the National Park Service. In June 2000, the Cape Lookout Village historic district was listed on the National Register.

The 1917 Coast Guard station was used in the early 2000s by the Maritime Museum for environmental education, research and conservation. Between 2018 and 2020, preservation and restoration efforts took place, according to the association.

Presented in cooperation with the Pea Island Cookhouse Museum on Roanoke Island.

Of the many documents associated with the Freedmen’s Colony on Roanoke Island, a letter signed by Richard Etheridge and eight others, and with 58 other names shown, each marked with an “X”, is particularly important.

The undated letter, received on Dec. 25, 1867, is noted by the academic and author, Patricia Click in her scholarly book about the colony, “A Time Full of Trial.”

There will be two opportunities to visit the Pea Island Cookhouse Museum Feb. 28, from 10 a.m. – noon, or 1 p.m. – 3 p.m.  During each, at 11 a.m. and 2 p.m., the latest version of our short video, “A Checkered Past: The Story of Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers” will be shown. This 15-minute video, based on two events held during Black History Month in 2023, was recently revised to include additional information about our organization.  It features Pea Island Preservation Society Inc. board members, youth volunteers, and descendants of the Pea Island lifesavers who were interviewed.

For our organization, Black History Month is a reflective time, and especially to think about the Freedmen’s Colony on Roanoke Island and the U.S Life-Saving Service (and later, the early U.S. Coast Guard station) at Pea Island.  Both are important to fully understand the history of the Outer Banks.

Keeper Richard Etheridge, who grew up enslaved on Roanoke Island, is perhaps most known for his leadership and the legacy associated with the Pea Island station.  Following his death in May 1900, the station remained staffed primarily with Black surfman crews until it was deactivated in March 1947 and officially decommissioned two years later.

Etheridge’s association with two letters about the Freedmen’s Colony are not as well known.  The first is a letter he co-authored in 1865 with a fellow solider, William Benson, protesting the mistreatment of those left behind at the Freedmen’s Colony.  A framed typed version of it hangs at the Cookhouse. 

The second letter, a photo of one page included here, shows Etheridge’s signature and eight others.  This page is one of two signature pages that accompanied the undated letter.  The full letter includes the names of fifty-eight men with an “X’’ mark, a practice used to indicate a person was illiterate.

Often when the Freedmen’s Colony story is told what many focus on are the several missionary teachers who arrived from the North and the sawmill provided to build 500 small homes, each with a small portion of land to raise crops.   Also frequently mentioned are the churches and schools freedmen also helped to build to have their own places to worship and be educated. 

This undated letter reminds us of another important, yet unfortunately often overlooked part of the story – that in the end thousands who came to the Roanoke Island colony and other Freedmen’s Bureau locations established during the Civil War were ordered to leave – sometimes forcefully, and sometimes cruelly and even brutally.  

On Feb. 28, during the morning and afternoon, the Cookhouse Museum will be open to visitors. This year Cathy Steever a researcher and friend to our organization will join us. Cathy has been uncovering the remarkable story of the Freedmen’s Colony on Roanoke Island for several years. She is especially drawn to the colony’s everyday realities — work, schooling, housing, faith resilience and hard choices families faced during and after the war. Lately, she and I have been collaborating on research findings, especially the stories that best reflect the challenges and difficulties those who lived on the Freedmen’s Colony faced, and lesser known stories.

The complete undated letter will be read and interpreted on Feb. 28. The noted letter portrays what life was like for the freedmen and their objections to being forced to leave. 

Those who had hoped to see the “First Light of Freedom” as the memorial at the Fort Raleigh site reads, pleads for a short extension of time to stay and for leniency “having been thrown out without shelter” as the noted letter received on Christmas Day in 1867 reveals.

Given the small size of the Cookhouse, those interested in visiting are requested to RSVP indicating if the morning or the afternoon session is preferred.  Those who have a special connection or interest in this history are especially encouraged to come.  Those who plan to visit are also requested to RSVP us at: friends@peaislandpreservationsociety.com. Given the small size of the Cookhouse, RSVP’s are requested soon so we can plan accordingly.

‘Cookhouse Chats’

As director of outreach and education, I am also pleased to announce this special opening on Feb. 28 is also the start of PIPSI’s latest initiative, “Cookhouse Chats”.  These selected chats will focus on less known or newly discovered stories as well as potential future collaborations with interested parties.  

The next planned chat, one about research findings pertaining to “checkerboard crews,” or mixed-race crews, will be announced in the spring. 

Presently, by email request the Cookhouse is “open by appointment only” preferably for group visits and special events.

The State Archives of North Carolina is offering a virtual lunch-and-learn program, “Bound by Law: Limits to Emancipation during the Revolution,” examining the impact of early North Carolina laws on enslaved people and the fight for freedom, starting at noon Wednesday.

The State Archives, a division of the N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, is hosting the program to spotlight “Bound by Law,” a project that explores legislation that restricted the emancipation of enslaved individuals in early North Carolina.

The program is being held in recognition of Black History Month in February and the America 250 NC commemoration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776.

During the program, former America 250 NC intern Olivia Cody, a student at Winston-Salem State University, will preview a new America 250 NC digital exhibit focused on these laws and their historical significance.

Archives staff Adrienne Berney and Alana Gomez are to present Revolutionary-era stories of Ned Griffin and John Jasper White to “illustrate how these restrictive laws shaped individual lives and underscored the broader struggle for freedom in North Carolina,” organizers said.

Advance registration, which is required, can be done using the online form.

For more information, contact Berney at adrienne.berney@dncr.nc.gov or 919-814-6863.

Well before, and long after, the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776, Dare County has been the site of pivotal moments in the country’s history.

The historic county on the Outer Banks has incorporated what it calls “the unique contributions of our region to the broader story of the United States” into its official America’s 250^th anniversary celebration, “Land of Beginnings.”

The phrase “Land of Beginnings” comes from the many nationally significant firsts that occurred there, “including the first English colony in the New World, the birth of Virginia Dare, the first Freedmen’s Colony during the Civil War, the first powered flight, and the first transatlantic wireless communication,” Dorothy Hester, co-chair of the Dare County A250 Committee, explained to Coastal Review.

Dare A250 is the county’s official planning committee for America 250 NC, the state’s commemoration effort under the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources. The state-organized celebration is part of America 250, the national U.S. Semiquincentennial Commission that marks the anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

“America 250 is about telling the full story of the nation’s origins, and Dare County represents several of the earliest and most consequential chapters in that story,” Hester said. “I am incredibly proud of the many organizations, volunteers, and community members who have come together to create meaningful and lasting ways for people in Dare County to connect with our local history during this celebration.”

The committee rolled out two activities associated with the anniversary earlier this month. The “Land of the Beginnings” interactive map that highlights 28 historic sites and the self-guided Dare A250 Passport Program.

The county is also preparing for the April 18 patriotic festival “Dare A250 Faire: Liberty, Legacy and Liftoff in the Land of Beginnings” at the Wright Brothers National Memorial. Arts and crafts vendors must submit their application to set up by Feb. 1, all other vendors have until Feb. 15. Applications for both can be downloaded from the website.

“As Dare County’s signature event commemorating the nation’s 250th anniversary, the A250 Faire will feature live music, food and beverage vendors, local artisans, historical demonstrations, educational programming, community exhibits and patriotic festivities that highlight Dare County’s enduring spirit of innovation and discovery,” according to the website.

Outer Banks History Center Director and Supervising Archivist Tammy Woodward said that for the past year, she has been the history subcommittee chair for Dare County’s A250 Committee. The center is the eastern branch of the State Archives of North Carolina.

The first project that they were charged with was to draft a timeline of the history of the county dating back to the 16th century, “or as far back as the written record can take us. From that timeline, we selected 28 sites to plot on an interactive digital map with short historical narratives and images for each site.”

The subcommittee members are Kristen Stilson, a GIS analyst for the county, Jockey’s Ridge State Park Ranger Austin Paul, Brian Edwards, associate history professor and chair of the Social Sciences Department at the College of The Albemarle, Meaghan Beasley from Dare County Libraries, and Ladd Bayliss, executive director of the Outer Banks Conservationists.

Stilson creates Dare-themed maps each year for National GIS Day in November, and was asked to tie this year’s annual map in with the A250 celebrations. She used the subcommittee’s timeline of Dare County’s history to design the interactive map that allows users to learn about the nearly 30 sites around the county.

“We chose historic events that highlight the role of Dare County in the formation of our country from the first voyages to the first flight. And also events that celebrate beginnings in Dare County, like our first lighthouses and lifesaving stations,” Stilson explained.

Woodward said that history subcommittee members and volunteers wrote and sourced the narratives and images on the interactive map. The names of the map’s contributors and their associated agencies can be found at the bottom of the map if you scroll all the way down.

“We had writers from many organizations across Dare County, this was huge collaboration,” Stilson said, adding that the sources vary for the write ups and the majority of the photos came from Outer Banks History Center. The history center is the eastern branch of the State Archives of North Carolina, under the N.C. Department of Natural & Cultural Resources.

“My favorite tidbit I discovered was the man that purchased Kitty Hawk Pier because they didn’t serve orange soda and then when he sold it later, he gave the profits to the employees,” Stilson added.

Stilson said that from there, she still needed a way to connect the map that launched in January with GIS Day in November.

“That is when we came up with the passport program” that culminates Nov. 18 on National GIS Day, she said.

The history subcommittee selected from the interactive map the 13 sites that are stops for the passport program, described in promotional materials as “an initiative designed to engage residents and visitors in commemorating America’s 250th anniversary by exploring the many places that have changed the course of history and define Dare County as the ‘Land of Beginnings.’”

At each passport site, participants can scan a QR code to collect a virtual stamp, gradually building a digital passport that reflects the participant’s voyage.

The 13 passport sites are marked on the interactive map and a hint of where the QR code signs are located on the property. Visitors can scan the code to log their visit to the site. 

“Users can explore the county and significant places from their computer or they can get out and explore the places these historical events occurred in person,” Stilson explained about the two tools.

Once the program wraps up on GIS Day, participants will earn certificates based on how many locations they visit.

The following are the 13 stops:

Flat Tops of Southern Shores are unique homes built in the 1950s that reflect the vision of Frank Stick and the early development of the community. “Their simple design and iconic flat roofs remain a symbol of Outer Banks history,” as described by the county in promotional materials.

Icarus Monument to a Century of Flight in Kitty Hawk is “an enduring sculptural legacy to the first century of aviation” according to the monument’s website.

Wright Brothers National Memorial in Kill Devil Hills celebrates when Orville and Wilbur Wright made history in 1903 with the world’s first powered flight. “The memorial celebrates their innovation and the birth of modern aviation,” as county officials described it.

Jennette’s Pier in Nags Head was originally built in 1939 and now serves as both a fishing pier and an educational center for marine science.

Jockey’s Ridge State Park in Nags Head is home to the tallest living sand dunes on the East Coast and has been protected as a state park since the 1970s.

The black-and-white-striped Bodie Island Lighthouse in Nags Head has guided mariners since 1872 and its beacon continues to aid in navigation.

Fort Raleigh National Historic Site in Manteo “preserves the site of the first English settlement in the New World, established in 1587 it’s a place tied to the mystery of the Lost Colony and the roots of America’s story.”

Island Farm, also in Manteo, is a living history site depicting what daily life was like on Roanoke Island in the 1850s. Visitors can experience farming, cooking and traditions of early Outer Banks families.

Bethany Church in Wanchese, built in 1857, is one of the oldest churches on Roanoke Island.

The historic Chicamacomico Life-Saving Station in Rodanthe tells the story of the U.S. lifesaving service, the forerunner of what is now the U.S. Coast Guard.

Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum located at the edge of Hatteras Island highlights maritime history, legends and survival.

Pea Island Cookhouse in Manteo honors the legacy of the Pea Island Lifesaving Station, the only all-Black crew in the United States.

Now a ghost town, Buffalo City at the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge on the mainland was known for its logging and moonshine.

“Through the interactive historical map, passport program, the A250 Faire, special events, and youth-focused activities, we’ve worked to ensure there is truly something for everyone—whether you’re a lifelong resident, a student, or someone discovering Dare County’s story for the first time,” Hester said.

The National Park Service has approved a project to stabilize about a mile of rapidly eroding shoreline at Fort Raleigh National Historic Site.

The 513-acre site located on the northern end of Roanoke Island in the Albemarle Sound was established in 1941 to preserve where Sir Walter Raleigh established colonial settlements between 1581 and 1591.

National Park Service leadership signed on Jan. 14 a finding of no significant impact to install a combination of rock revetment and rock berm to sections of the shoreline. A finding of no significant impact confirms that a proposed action won’t significantly affect the environment.

When the National Park Service announced the project’s approval Jan. 15, officials also released the mandatory floodplain statement of findings, which explains why the project must take place in a floodplain, along with any associated risk, and flood mitigation strategies.

The announcement opened up a two-week comment period that ends Friday on the findings. Instructions on how to comment are on National Park Service’s website.

The floodplain statement of findings concludes that the proposed rock revetment and berm to prevent ongoing and future shoreline erosion at Fort Raleigh National Historic Site “is necessary and consistent” with federal rules on activities in floodplains.

On the same day, the North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality’s Division of Coastal Management announced and opened up a public comment period for the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration-requested federal consistency determination for the proposed rock berm and revetment combination project.

The determination is to “ensure compliance” with the Coastal Zone Management Act, a national policy for managing coastal resources.

“Specifically, the National Park Service proposes installing rock berms and rock revetments along approximately 1,100 linear feet of shoreline on the western end of Roanoke Island to reduce erosion, protect infrastructure, and enhance long-term shoreline stability,” per the state. “The State’s review of the submitted federal consistency determination request will determine if the proposed project in Dare County is consistent with the enforceable policies of North Carolina’s Coastal Management Program.”

To read the shoreline stabilization federal consistency determination request and comment, visit NCDEQ’s website.

Since becoming a national historic site, erosion along the property’s shoreline has been a management challenge. The shoreline is estimated to have eroded a quarter-mile or more since the late 16th century, according to the National Park Service.

Previous efforts have been made to slow shoreline loss but erosion has continued at an estimated 1 to 5 feet per year, impacting both cultural and natural resources at the site as well as the adjacent, privately owned Elizabethan Gardens, documents explain.

Michael Flynn is the physical scientist and certified floodplain manager for the Outer Banks Group of National Parks, which consists of Fort Raleigh, Cape Hatteras National Seashore and Wright Brothers National Memorial.

Flynn told Coastal Review that wind, wave action and currents have eroded the shoreline over time and threaten facilities, infrastructure and cultural resources such as the Waterside Theater, where the “Lost Colony” out door drama is performed every summer, and a family cemetery on the property.

“This has caused loss of archeological resources and upland forested areas,” Flynn said. “In the 1980s, the park installed stabilization measures including rock berm and rock revetment. Erosion is especially prevalent at the edges of these stabilization measures in an effect known as flanking.”

In recent years, park staff have been developing the stabilization and erosion control plan approved earlier this month and the associated environmental assessment, which identifies any potential effects of the proposed project.

The plan and environmental assessment released in July 2025 detailed three possible projects: a rock revetment, a rock berm or a combination of the two. The environmental assessment that was out for public review July 21, 2025, to Aug. 20, 2025, identified as the preferred action the combination of the two.

“After evaluating the potential impacts of three action alternatives, NPS selected the preferred alternative: a combination of rock revetment and rock berm in areas of the shoreline that are the best fit due to existing topography, land use and constructability,” according to the press release.

Flynn said the combination was chosen because of the variable topography along the shoreline. The approach also offers flexibility for engineered designs for different environmental conditions.

For example, the rock revetment alternative will be placed in locations where existing steep and high embankments range from 5 to 15 feet or higher, he said.

“For areas with rock revetment, the application of appropriately sized rock will prevent the bluff from sloughing. The rock berm alternative will be placed in areas with no or minimal embankment heights. For areas with rock berm, the application of appropriately sized rock will protect the low-elevation sand beach areas from erosion caused by wave action,” he explained.

Flynn said that the environmental assessment for the proposed project was prepared in accordance with the National Environmental Policy Act, NEPA, and Department of Interior NEPA regulations.

Because the National Park Service issuing earlier this month the finding of no significant impact, often referred to as a FONSI, officials determined that the preferred alternative identified in the environmental assessment, or EA, will not have a significant effect on the human environment. If the environmental assessment does not support a finding of no significant impact, then the park service must prepare an environmental impact statement and issue a Record of Decision before taking action on the proposed activity.

“In short, Fort Raleigh may now proceed with implementing the preferred alternative described within the EA. The park will stabilize the shoreline for erosion control once NPS officials finalize the accompanying Floodplain Statement of Findings,” Flynn said.

The floodplain statement of findings is necessary because of two executive orders that require the National Park Service to evaluate the likely impacts of actions in floodplains.

It is park service policy to preserve floodplain functions and values, minimize potentially hazardous conditions associated with flooding, including threats to human health and safety, risks to National Park Service capital investment, and impacts on natural and beneficial floodplain values, he said.

That means a floodplain statement of findings “is prepared when a proposed action is found to be in, or affecting a floodplain, and relocating the action to a non-floodplain site is considered not to be a viable alternative. This is the case with implementing shoreline stabilization measures for erosion control,” Flynn continued.

Flynn noted that the floodplain findings factor in climate change effects. When data are available, the climate-informed science approach detailed in one of the executive orders is the preferred way to develop the floodplain statement of findings.

The climate-informed science approach incorporates the use of best-available data on water movement and methods that integrate current and future changes in flooding due to the increasing severity and frequency of precipitation, sea level rise, tidal cycles, land use change, yielding the most accurate elevation and flood hazard area, Flynn said.

Once the public review and comment period closes Friday, park staff are to revise the document accordingly and send it to the National Park Service’s Water Resources Division for review and signature. After that, the plan goes to the regional office for review, signature and approval to move forward, he explained.

The Army Corps of Engineers wants more time to mull over concerns that have been brought up on the proposed project to deepen and widen portions of the Wilmington Harbor channel.

The North Carolina Division of Coastal Management announced late Tuesday afternoon it had granted the Corps’ request, indefinitely pausing the division’s review of whether the proposed project is consistent with state coastal management program laws, regulations and policies.

“The decision to pause allows time for the Corps to review and consider issues raised by DCM and the public before DCM completes its review,” according to a release. “A timeline has not been established for when the pause may be lifted.”

The pause follows a series of deadline extensions that have been made in recent weeks on the proposed project, one that is being highly scrutinized for its potential effects to the environment, shorelines and treasure of historic and culturally significant areas along the shores of the lower Cape Fear River.

The N.C. State Ports Authority says the project designed to accommodate larger ships would attract more import and export business to the port, ease shipping congestion on the East Coast, and keep the state’s ports competitive. The proposal calls for deepening the harbor channel by 5 feet and widening portions of it from the mouth of the Cape Fear River to the Wilmington port.

In late December, the division announced that the Corps’ Wilmington District was giving the division more time to complete its review of the federal determination, pushing its deadline from Jan. 5 to Jan. 19.

The Corps requested the pause on Jan. 16, just days after state fisheries and wildlife resources officials sent the division memorandums saying those agencies continue to have concerns about impacts to fish and wildlife resources within the proposed project area.

A Corps spokesperson did not respond to a request for comment by deadline for this report.

In its Jan. 14 memorandum to the Division of Coastal Management, the N.C. Division of Marine Fisheries reiterated its concerns about the proposed project’s effects on habitat essential to fish in the river, wetlands connected to the river, and the overall water quality in the river.

Deepening and widening the harbor as planned “will have significant adverse impacts to fisheries resources due to the permanent loss of state-designated nursery and anadromous fish spawning areas along the Cape Fear River estuary and its tributaries,” the memorandum states.

“There is also potential for significant adverse impacts to wetlands, (submerged aquatic vegetation), shellfish resources, and water column habitat due to insufficient mitigation plans and uncertain impacts associated with the proposed actions that are not adequately discussed,” in the federal letter report and draft environmental impact statement of the Wilmington Harbor 403 navigation project released in September. The figure 403 refers to the relevant section of the Water Resources Development Act.

N.C. Wildlife Resources Commission officials raised similar worries, stating in a Jan. 15 memorandum to DCM that while it had been involved throughout the project’s development process, “our agency still has concerns regarding impacts the proposal will have on wildlife resources in the project area.”

“These comments include concerns regarding the proposal’s direct impacts to wildlife habitats, whether impacts to these habitats have been adequately assessed, inadequacies of mitigation proposals, the need to consult appropriate agencies prior to moving forward with the proposal, and the subsequent impacts to wildlife and their habitats (particularly nesting waterbirds and shorelines) from larger and increased vessel use.”

A number of towns in Brunswick and New Hanover counties have adopted resolutions urging state and federal agencies to protect a series of islands within the lower Cape Fear River that support 30% of the state’s coastal shorebird population.

Those towns are also calling for the creation of a comprehensive, long-term, and fully funded environmental and adaptive management plan to cover costs related to monitoring and mitigation to prevent and repair environmental harm.

A Corps official earlier this month confirmed to Coastal Review that the agency was implementing a programmatic agreement with the North Carolina State Historic Preservation Office, the General Services Administration, the state Ports Authority, “and possibly the Advisory Council on Historic Preservation” to review historic and culturally significant areas along the river that may be impacted by the proposed project.

The agreement must be signed before the agency finalizes project plans, which would occur after the Corps releases its final environmental impact statement.

The final environmental impact statement is expected to be released sometime this summer, according to a tentative timeline released by the Corps. It is unclear how the Corps’ request of the state to pause its review may affect that projected timeline.

Once the review process resumes, DCM must decide whether to concur with or object the Corps’ determination.

“If DCM objects, it can offer alternatives or conditions that, if agreed to by the Corps, would allow the project to proceed,” according to the division.

Construction on the proposed project would begin no earlier than 2030 and take about six years to complete, a schedule Corps officials have said is optimistic.

The nonprofit organization that aims to preserve Bath’s history has asked the corporation selling an about 1,768-acre tract of riverfront property to consider separating out what it considers historically significant section of the land, Washington Daily News reported Jan. 19.

Currently owned by Nutrien, a global fertilizer company formerly operating as PCS Phosphate or PotashCorp, the multiparcel property known as Archbell Point is listed for $17.5 million.

The Historic Bath Foundation believes remnants of both Native American villages and early colonial plantations are among the important pieces of the area’s history that are within the property located across the Pamlico River from Nutrien Aurora’s phosphate mine.

The foundation feels that the property has the potential to be eligible for the National Register of Historic Places, and wants Nutrien to consider separating out a historically significant part of the parcel that’s currently up for sale, Washington Daily News reported.

The land for sale has more than 3.4 miles of shoreline along the Pamlico River, Bath Creek and Duck Creek. Structures on the property include three houses, a workshop, around 180 tillable acres, 1,500 acres of timberland and freshwater ponds, the listing states.

The foundation sent a letter to Nutrien late last summer after learning the property was going to be sold asking the company to consider excluding the historic area from the sale, but has not received a response, Washington Daily News reported.

Foundation President Seth Effron told Washington Daily News that the group wants all parties to be aware of the “documented historic and archeological significance of portions of the site and have an opportunity to discuss ways to assure there is a full understanding on how to move ahead before these places are sold.”

The listing notes that the property “offers a variety of development possibilities — all subject to approval by Nutrien,” the current owners.

Note: The Feb. 7 event described below has been rescheduled for Feb. 21 because of weather-related issues.

Those who know me best often hear me say I wear two hats. One is to help raise awareness of the story of Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers. The other is to raise awareness of my father and his family who have deep ties to Roanoke Island and a remarkable record military service.

I am thrilled to speak of both on Feb. 7 and to help celebrate a momentous occasion, the fifth anniversary of The Water’s Edge museum.

The accompanying mini-exhibit will be the first outside exhibit there.

An invitation to speak at this event is something I would have never imagined when I first visited Oxford, Maryland, on March 29, 2025. The Water’s Edge had opened just a few years earlier and was new to me. I had never heard of or seen it before.

My niece, a frequent visitor to the Eastern Shore and an avid reader, happened to come across an article about the museum during a stay nearby. During a trip I made to Maryland last year, she urged me to visit the Oxford museum with her and her mother, my sister. Little did I know then what would lie ahead. I still feel the joy I experienced walking in The Water’s Edge for the first time.

I was immediately reminded of the Pea Island Cookhouse Museum on Roanoke Island. Many know me for my connection to this museum. I have helped manage, operate and raise awareness of this museum’s history for several years. Simply known as “the Cookhouse” this museum is a small structure built in the 1930s at the Pea Island station where surfmen cooked and ate their meals.

This historic station was the only U.S. Life-Saving Service (USLSS) station in the country with an African American commander and an all-Black crew. My great-great-uncle served under Keeper Etheridge, as did my great-grandfather. My great-uncle, father and other relatives also served at the Pea Island station. The station was staffed primarily with Black commanders and surfmen crews from January 1880, when Etheridge took command, until March 1947, when my father, Herbert M. Collins, the last surfman left in charge, closed its doors for the last time.

The USLSS station at Pea Island is most known for the Oct.11, 1896, rescue of an all-white contingent on board the shipwrecked E.S. Newman during a fierce hurricane and in the middle of the night. Etheridge and his crew were posthumously awarded the prestigious U.S. Coast Guard Gold Lifesaving Medal for this daring and heroic act in March 1996, some 100 years later.

Another captivating fact is that before becoming a surfman and commanding the Pea Island station, Etheridge grew up enslaved. He had also served with the 36th Regiment of U.S. Colored Troops during the Civil War, enlisting with other men on Roanoke Island to join the fight for freedom. By the time the war ended he had earned the rank of sergeant.

As a visual learner, when I first entered The Water’s Edge I was immediately moved. The colorful images on the walls, particularly the portraits and scenes of daily life in Oxford made me think of my father, grandparents, great-grandparents. The scenes reminded me of my father growing up on Roanoke Island during a time when church, community gatherings, and services were so important to the small community in which he lived.

I imagined him as a young child sitting in the church with his parents, grandparents, cousins, and friends. I imagined a community gathering with food, music, dancing and well wishes as he and his twin brother left Roanoke Island together at just 17 years old, and at their father’s urging, to join the Coast Guard. I imagined the smiles and the sorrow, particularly my grandmother’s likely tears as she watched them leave knowing there was little opportunity for them to succeed if they stayed.

When I returned to my home on Roanoke Island, I quickly sent The Water’s Edge more information, including a video. I also invited members of their staff to come to Roanoke Island to learn more. That resulted in staff members visiting the Cookhouse and staying at my home this past summer.

My talk will include showing the short video, “A Checkered Past: The Story of Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers.” There will also be other images including three, 4-foot-square oil paintings associated with my father’s career, part of my family’s collection, on display for the first time. The artwork is part of an ongoing family creative effort to preserve my father’s life story, and in a creative way, a project we began after his death in March 2010.

I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity on Feb. 7 to wear my “two hats,” one to tell the story of the historic Pea Island station and the other, the story of my father and his family. As a kid, my father and superhero grew up longing to wear a surfman’s uniform.

The picture on the event flyer was commissioned by the late portrait artist John de la Vega. It is based on a photograph of my father shortly after he first reported to Pea Island and as he told me, before his uniform arrived. Thankfully that uniform did arrive, which I am sure put a big smile on his face. He often recalled growing up as a kid longing to wear a Coast Guard uniform one day.

In March 1947, he left Pea Island proudly wearing that uniform. He would serve for 34 years, the longest of anyone in his family.

Children’s activities, guest speakers, a “tea party” on the Intracoastal Waterway, demonstrations by weavers and spinners, an encampment of reenactors, and Virginia Reel dance lessons are all on the schedule for the Historical Society of Topsail Island’s celebration of America’s 250th Anniversary.

The event, “Colonial Topsail,” is set for 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 21, in the Historic Assembly Building, 720 Channel Blvd., Topsail Beach. There’s no cost to attend.

The opening ceremony will be hosted by a Thomas Jefferson reenactor and be joined by Topsail High School JROTC Coast Guard Color Guard, and the Tryon Palace Fife and Drum Corps.

There will be a Revolutionary War encampment in partnership with Moores Creek National Battlefield, and demonstrations by the Daughters of the American Revolution and Sons of the American Revolution.

Children’s activities begin at 11:30 a.m. with “What is Freedom?” and tea party, and from 12:30 to 3 p.m. colonial-themed crafts such as weaving, beading and whirligigs. Outdoor games include hoop races, hopscotch and jump rope. Activities are geared toward ages 4 to12.

A “Colonial Lunch” of Brunswick stew, cornbread, a drink, and dessert will be available for $12 per person from 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. Reservations are required and can be made through the society’s website.

The Missiles and More Museum will open from 11:30 a.m. to 3 p.m. that day.

“We are pleased to kick-off the America 250th anniversary with Colonial Topsail,” said Kim McClusky, the A250 committee chair, in a release. “Our region has significant Revolutionary War history. Colonial Topsail will be a fun, family-friendly, awareness-raising, celebration of our history.”

From shortly after the Civil War until the mid-2000s, when the last menhaden plant was shuttered, the town of Beaufort would “smell of money.”

“The menhaden industry made Beaufort prosperous. Local menhaden companies once provided hundreds of jobs in the local community and surrounding areas with numerous factories and vessels working this lucrative fishery,” according to information from the North Carolina Maritime Museum, which has held several programs on the industry.

“The fishery itself, processing plants ashore, and support infrastructure provided steady employment opportunities, especially for African-Americans. While many visitors remember the smell of the fish, locals call it the ‘smell of money,’” It was their livelihood. Local merchants all benefited from the influx of people and money during menhaden’s fishing season. Menhaden fishing was recognized throughout Carteret County as an important part of this county’s commercial fishing industry.”

In the early days of catching menhaden, the mother boat would deploy smaller purse boats to maneuver a large net around a school of fish. Once the string draws the net shut around the hundreds of pounds of menhaden, the fishermen would haul the net by hand.

To perform this physically demanding, dangerous work, the fishermen would sing work songs, or chanteys, to help rhythmically synchronize their movements.

Barbara Garrity-Blake, fisheries social scientist and adjunct at Duke University Marine Lab in Beaufort, told Coastal Review that the menhaden fishermen used to sing these songs before hydraulic net-lifting technology was introduced in the early 1960s.

“Each vessel carried a crew of about two-dozen men, mostly African Americans, who worked shoulder to shoulder in purse boats to pull in a giant seine net heavy with menhaden — sometimes a 100,000 or more fish. The men would coordinate their pulling by singing in a call-and-response style where the leader would sing out a line and the crew would answer in harmony,” she continued.

Their songs were a seafaring tradition known as chanteys.

After the menhaden industry became mechanized in the 1960s and 1970s, and the songs were no longer sung, some of the former and retired fishermen began to perform these traditional work songs for audiences, eventually becoming formally known as the Menhaden Chanteymen in 1988.

After the group began performing publicly, they sang for the North Carolina General Assembly, National Council on the Arts, at New York City’s Carnegie Hall and on national television, including for a segment on “CBS Sunday Morning” with Charles Kuralt. The group recorded the album “Won’t You Help Me to Raise ‘Em: Authentic Net Hauling Songs from an African-American Fishery,” for Global Village Music in 1990.

The remaining members made special appearances at events throughout the county, including a handful at Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center on Harkers Island.

Beaufort Mayor Sharon Harker awarded in 2022 the two surviving Chanteymen, Ernest Davis and the Rev. Leroy Cox, the key to the city. Cox died in 2023, leaving Davis as the “last legacy-bearer of the Menhaden Chanteyman” until the final member, Davis, 86, died Jan. 3. His service and burial was Jan. 8 Mt. Tabor Missionary Baptist Church of North River. Noe Funeral Services of Beaufort handled the arrangements.

Garrity-Blake noted that Davis was the youngest of the Chanteymen and had “explained that singing generated a special power or strength, used for nets otherwise too heavy for human strength alone. So the chantey songs were used as a tool.”

In a recording, Davis explains that the fishermen would sing a chantey when they needed to raise up a net full of fish.

“If we couldn’t sing, we couldn’t get them raised up,” Davis said. The singing “would give you more spirit, and more power” and you could raise your fish better.

“At night you couldn’t sleep because you’d be hurting and cold so you just make up songs,” Davis said. And most of the captains would be singing right along with the crew. “Music could be heard all over the ocean … like music was on the water.”

Garrity-Blake said in an interview that she worked for many years with Davis and other menhaden workers on a project called “Raising the Story of Menhaden Fishing.”

The 2005 closure of Beaufort Fisheries, the last menhaden plant in the state, inspired North Carolina Humanities Council-funded project that Garrity-Blake helped launch in 2009 and 2010 with the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center on Harkers Island.

Davis was among a group of menhaden workers, including captains, crewmen, cookhouse and factory workers, who met several times at the Beaufort train depot to plan the project, “which was hilarious because ‘planning’ took a backseat to telling tales,” Garrity-Blake said, adding that the meetings always turned into a big storytelling session and nobody wanted to leave when the meeting was over.

“I realized that the menhaden folks had a hunger for getting together to talk about fishing. They feared their experiences and the industry’s legacy as the economic backbone of Carteret County would be forgotten. So we decided to call it ‘Raising the Story’ — just as the men worked together to raise fish, we’d work together to raise the story of menhaden fishing,” Garrity-Blake continued.

Garrity-Blake conducted about a dozen oral history recordings of people representing different skills in the fishery, from ring-setter in the fishing process to factory owner, the late Jule Wheatly in December 2009. He died in October 2011.

Fine art photographer and Beaufort resident Scott Taylor took portraits of all the folks who were interviewed, and developed an exhibit for the waterfowl museum. The oral history interviews and photos are part of the Core Sound museum’s online collection, on a Facebook page also called “Raising the Story of Menhaden Fishing,” and on Carolina Coastal Voices YouTube channel.

As part of “Raising the Story,” the group wanted to involve young people who didn’t know anything about the industry, so they collaborated with Josie Boyette’s seventh grade class at Beaufort Middle School.

“Three of the men, including Ernest Davis, were invited into the classroom to share stories, and the kids asked questions and recorded them,” Garrity-Blake said. “Davis talked about his role as first mate, although he’d also served as fish boat captain on occasion. He was proud to have made a good living, putting his kids through college, menhaden fishing. He said, ‘A lot of people think fishing is a disgrace. But I made a good living. Didn’t look to get rich or nothing.’”

She added that Davis’ grandson Trevor was in the classroom. “It was wonderful to see the pride on that little boy’s face when his grandad shared a story about fending off a shark that had swum in the net.”

The project culminated in what Garrity-Blake called a “jam-packed event” at Core Sound, where the middle school students showcased their work, captains and crewmen told stories to the audience, and the Menhaden Chanteymen performed their songs.

“When they performed, it was powerful and otherworldly; everyone was mesmerized,” Garrity-Blake said.

Historian and author David Cecelski has written extensively about coastal North Carolina’s fisheries, including that of menhaden, many of which can be found on his personal website such as “Menhaden Fishing Days” and “It Was Like a Ballet’: Menhaden Fishermen at Work, 1947,” which he describes the process of hauling a net based on a photo from the North Carolina State Archives.

He was invited to speak at the “Raising the Story of Menhaden Fishing” event held in the fall of 2010. In 2017, Cecelski reflected on the “Raising the Story” project and shared his comments from that event in an essay he titled, “Music All Over the Ocean.”

In the essay, he calls the project a “commemoration of the central role that the menhaden industry played in Carteret County for generations.”

Cecelski, who grew up near Beaufort, writes that anybody listening to the oral histories Garrity-Blake recorded for the project would be impressed with what the menhaden fishery meant to Carteret County, particularly the stink that permeated the town when the fish were being processed.

“When the wind was right, the aroma of the fish covered those towns like a blanket. Coastal visitors sometimes complained, but my cousins in the industry used to call it ‘the smell of money,’” he wrote in 2021.

Cecelski explains in his 2017 piece that Davis’s story was typical of what the industry’s wages meant to local fishermen and fish factory workers.

Davis, who left school when he was 15 and went to work menhaden fishing at Beaufort Fisheries, said in his interview that it was hard work but it was what he had to do. He fished for 41 years and became one of the most respected first mates on the East Coast, sending all five of his own children to college and helping raise and educate nine younger brothers and sisters.

The oral histories also show how the men and women watched the menhaden industry change over their lifetimes, like motorizing the process to haul in the fish, business became more corporate, unions made headway and state and federal governments enacted environmental regulations, just to name a few.

“But through it all, I could hear two things in the men’s voices: a love for menhaden fishing — master net mender Lee Crumbacker said it well: ‘it grows on you like a barnacle on a pole’— and a fierce pride in their craftsmanship,” Cecelski writes.

Cecelski writes that as a child, the first thing he ever heard about the menhaden industry was his mother’s stories about those chanteys. His mother grew up in Harlowe in the 1920s and 1930s, when Highway 101 was still a dirt road.

“Many of Beaufort’s African American fishermen lived in Harlowe, particularly in a reclusive community just across the county line called Craven Corner. As they drove oxen and carts down the road on their way to Beaufort, the menhaden fishermen sang the same songs that they sung as they hoisted the nets onto their boats,” he writes.

“Early Monday mornings, long before first light, my mother would wake up in her bed at the sound of those beautiful, haunting songs and listen to them as the fishermen moved through the darkness and toward the sea.”

Cecelski observes that the fishermen in the interviews talk about the chanteys the same way his mother did.

Davis said in his “Rising the Story” interview they “would sing all night long just to keep their minds off the cold and hurt. It ‘just seemed like music was all over the ocean’,” Cecelski writes.

“The fishermen mostly stopped singing their legendary chanteys with the introduction of power blocks and hardening rigs in the late 1950s and early 1960s, but those songs have remained a powerful memory for all who ever heard them.”

And while the chanteys have not been heard on a menhaden boat in a long time, but older people from around Carteret County still remember them, and tell Cecelski “how, on cool autumn days, you could sometimes stand on shore and hear the songs coming across the water. They filled the air and stirred the heart and got deep inside your bones,” Cecelski describes.

“And if you heard those songs, like my mother did when she was a little girl, you never forgot them or the way that they made you feel. It is hard to put into words, but it was not just the beauty of the melodies or the men’s fine voices, but the appearance that the music was rising right out of the sea.”

Note: This story has been updated to correct the misspelling of Louis Bacon’s first name.

Restoring land as close to how it was more than two centuries ago is by no means a cheap venture.

Just ask Louis Moore Bacon.

Since 2012, Bacon has invested more than $100 million in the property on which his ancestor, Roger Moore, founded Orton Plantation in 1725 off the lower Cape Fear River’s western bank in Brunswick County.

Nearly a third of that cost has gone toward restoring an expansive, historic rice field system and an earthen dike enslaved Africans built some 250 years ago to protect the fields they planted, grew, and harvested Carolina Gold rice from the river.

If the state green lights a proposed project to deepen and widen portions of the shipping channel from the Atlantic Ocean to the Port of Wilmington, all of it – the dike, 350 acres of historic rice fields and hundreds of acres of freshwater wetlands – will face threat of “irreversible damage,” according to Bacon.

In a 22-page letter he submitted to the North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality’s Division of Coastal Management late last year, Bacon detailed how the proposed Wilmington Harbor 403 navigation project “threatens the failure” of the earthen dike.

“The structural integrity of the dike is Orton’s number one concern,” Bacon wrote. “The Project poses a real and unacceptable risk of catastrophic failure of the dike system. Failure of the dike will result in a cascading series of events including saltwater intrusion into the historic rice fields, rendering them incapable of growing rice and destroying the freshwater ecological water system at the Orton Property. Failure of the dike would flood the rice fields and freshwater ponds with saltwater, erasing what stands today as a preserved monument to enslaved African Americans dating back centuries.”

He closed the Nov. 24, 2025, letter with an ardent request of the division: Object to the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers’ determination that the proposed project aligns with the state’s coastal policies and rules.

The Corps, Bacon wrote, failed to analyze how the proposed project to deepen and widen the harbor channel might affect historic and cultural resources along the river.

His objections echo those of other individuals and groups voicing concerns about how the project the N.C. State Ports Authority says is needed to keep the Wilmington Port competitive might impact those sites along the river.

Deepening the river channel from 42 feet to 47 feet and widening it along areas throughout the river will allow larger vessels to travel to and from the port, attracting more business, according to the authority.

But opponents of the proposed project say that, in addition to threatening historic and cultural resources along the river, it will accelerate erosion and exacerbate flooding, destroy habitat, disperse contaminants in the riverbed’s sediment into marshes and onto public beaches, and is not economically justified.

Like Bacon, their hope is that the Division of Coastal Management rejects the Corps’ determination.

The determination

Two days before the New Year, NCDEQ announced that the Corps was giving the Division of Coastal Management more time to complete its review of the federal determination, pushing the division’s deadline from Jan. 5 to Jan. 19.

Division officials have until then to determine whether the proposed project is consistent with the state’s coastal rules, including those under the Coastal Area Management Act, or CAMA.

The division must decide whether to concur with Corps’ determination, concur with conditions, or object.

Related: Wilmington residents see no good in proposed harbor project

If the division decides the latter, that could shutter the proposed project altogether.

“An objection generally prevents the federal permit or approval from being issued unless DCM and the project proponent negotiate a resolution that would allow the project to go forward,” according to the division’s Dec. 30 release notifying the public about the extension.

The Corps “may be entitled to certain mediation/appeal privileges” with the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s Office for Coastal Management, which heads programs including the National Coastal Zone Management Program and Estuarine Research Reserves and works with coastal states, territories and partners to manage resources and address impacts from climate change.

The division has to render its decision months before the Corps wraps what it says will be a detailed examination to identify all historic and cultural properties within the project study area.

“To ensure historical and cultural sites are identified and evaluated properly, the Corps is executing a study specific Programmatic Agreement (PA) with the North Carolina State Historic Preservation Office, the General Services Administration, the North Carolina State Ports Authority, and possibly the Advisory Council on Historic Preservation,” Jed Cayton, public affairs specialist with the Corps’ Wilmington District, said in an email responding to questions.

The programmatic agreement, he wrote, is a “commonly applied strategy to protect cultural and historical resources.”

“It facilitates more informed decision-making by allowing time for additional data collection and formal coordination efforts to extend beyond the feasibility study phase,” Cayton said.

The agreement, which is currently being reviewed, must be signed before the agency finalizes project plans, which would occur some time after the Corps releases its final environmental impact statement on the proposed project.

Under a tentative timeline the Corps has shared with the public, the federal agency is expected to release the final EIS sometime this summer.

Construction on the project would not begin until 2030 and take about six years to complete, a schedule Corps officials have said is optimistic.

‘Necessary analysis’

Today, the Orton property spans about 14,000 acres. More than 830 acres of that land, including 6,800 feet of restored and repaired earthen dike and coinciding system of canals, roads, dams, and ditches, around the rice fields is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

In his letter to the division last year, Bacon argued that CAMA protects the historic resources on his land “from irreversible damage and it protects the Property’s significant ecological resources from adverse impacts.”

The draft environmental impact statement, or EIS, the Corps released last September, “does not disclose these obvious impacts,” Bacon wrote.

“There is no analysis in the Draft EIS about the effects of the Project on the Orton Property or the CAMA-protected resources at Orton. None. This analysis cannot be deferred. The Corps’ consistency determination must be supported by ‘comprehensive data and information.’”

“The Corps’ failure to undertake the necessary analysis is the simplest reason that Division should object to the consistency determination,” he continued.

His land is among nearly 30 historic sites and properties the N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources’ State Historic Preservation Office lists as being within the proposed projects area of potential effects.

Last October, that office penned a letter to the Corps requesting the programmatic agreement, “so as to address effects on known and potentially National Register-eligible historic properties to be adversely affected by the proposed undertaking and the regularly scheduled maintenance dredging, spoil placement, and environmental mitigation measures following the proposed undertaking.”

While Corps studies of historic properties that may be affected by the proposed project “appear to have focused solely on the physical impacts of dredging the river-bottom, placement of dredged materials, and locations of mitigation measures, we believe from nearly two decades of observation and monitoring erosion at historic properties along the channel that we can expect other effects will result from the proposed project,” the letter states.

Dark Branch

Among the list of 28 sites and properties identified in that letter is Dark Branch, a community in unincorporated Brunswick County where land remains largely owned by the descendants of emancipated slaves.

Dark Branch, also known as Kendall Chapel, was founded in the early 1870s by a handful of formerly enslaved people, including Robert “Hooper” Clark, who’d been forced to work the rice fields of Orton, Lilliput, and Kendal plantations.

The land they purchased between those plantations became “a thriving hub of Black farming, entrepreneurship, and civil rights activism,” according to the Historic Wilmington Foundation.

Dr. Charles Chavis Jr., Clark’s fourth-great-grandson and executive director of the Dark Branch Descendants Association, explained in a telephone interview that there is a direct connection between the cultural resources that have been restored at Orton and those members of the Dark Branch community have taken upon themselves to preserve.

“Everything that Mr. Moore Bacon has sought to preserve is the work of our ancestors and those who were enslaved on the various plantations,” Chavis said. “For us, this is not only about protecting our cultural resources, but also about protecting our community.”

Chavis, an assistant professor at George Mason University and founding director of the university’s John Mitchell Jr. Program for History, Justice, and Race, started the association about three years ago to preserve the community’s history.

There are about 20 historical structures in Dark Branch, including homes, a store, and sharecropping and slave cabins.

Some of those structures, as well as the community cemetery, one Chavis calls one of Dark Branch’s most sacred sites, are under threat of riverine flooding.

“We just can’t afford for it to get worse and we’re working with local organizations to try and get resources around historic resource preservation,” he said. “We’re concerned that any potential harm or more work done to the river is going to make our job as an organization harder to protect the cultural resources that we have. Based on the assessments and our conversations with those we’ve consulted with, it’s not going to get better. It’s going to get worse.”

Dark Branch is a member of the National Park Service’s Reconstruction Era National Historic Network.

According to the Division of State Historic Sites, the Dark Branch Community Historic District was added to the National Historic Preservation Study List in 2024.

Sites that make that list are good potential candidates for the National Register.

The association continues to pursue a nomination for the National Register of Historic Places.

The Dark Branch community lies within the Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor, which encompasses 12,000 square miles of coastal area that runs up the southern Atlantic Coast from St. John’s County, Florida, to Pender County.

The corridor links places of historic significance to the Gullah Geechee, West Africans torn from their native land and enslaved on plantations along the southern Atlantic Coast, and tells stories of their lives on the plantations and in the coastal plains after abolition.

Efforts are underway to build the North Carolina Gullah Geechee Greenway Blueway Heritage Trail that will run from Navassa to Southport.

Last summer, the North Carolina General Assembly authorized the trail’s construction.

Veronica Carter, chairwoman of the heritage trail and member of the Leland Town Council, also raised concerns about how the proposed project might affect land within the trail. Carter is also board member with the North Carolina Coastal Federation, which publishes Coastal Review.

“Deepening the Cape Fear River will negatively impact our culturally significant, state-established North Carolina Gullah Geechee Blueway portion of our trail by increasing saltwater intrusion, worsening erosion, and degrading water quality, thereby threatening sensitive habitats,” she wrote Col. Brad Morgan, the Corps’ Wilmington District commander.

The Corps acknowledges that “more surveys are needed to determine the presence of additional historic and cultural properties within the study area,” Cayton said by email. “We have already included conservative cost estimates for this work, based on known resources identified within Wilmington Harbor and experiences at other similar projects, to ensure these resources are properly managed and respected.”

Fort Fisher State Historic Site is commemorating Saturday, Jan. 17, the 161st anniversary of when the fort was captured at the end of the American Civil War.

The fort protected the port of Wilmington until it fell to U.S. forces in January 1865.

Activities are to take place between 10 a.m. and 4 p.m. There are living history displays, artifact highlights and family activities planned as well as artillery demonstrations at 11 a.m., 1 p.m. and 3 p.m. Admission to the event is free.

Above the Scenes guided tours will be offered at 10 a.m., noon, and 2 p.m. Tickets for the 90-minute walk along the trail includes an exclusive climb to the top of Fort Fisher’s earthworks. Tour tickets are $10 plus tax and are available at the first-floor information desk in the visitor center at 1610 S. Fort Fisher Blvd., in Kure Beach.

A full schedule is available on Fort Fisher State Historic Site’s website and social media channels. All programs are subject to change or cancellation.

Parking is available at the visitor center. The Federal Point History Center will offer concessions.

The site, which was designated in 1962 as a National Historic Landmark, is administered by the Division of State Historic Sites within the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

Jacksonville will kick off Black History Month with an afternoon of inspiration and celebration at the African American Read-In.

Now in it’s 22nd year, the read-in celebrates culture, creativity, and the power of reading together.

The program is scheduled for 2-4 p.m. on Feb. 1 at the Jack Amyette Recreation Center, 825 South Drive, where after-school students will share poems, literature and artistic works created by African American authors.

Entertainment and light refreshments will be served following the ceremony.

Editor’s note: The following is from historian David Cecelski’s “Working Lives: Photographs from Eastern North Carolina, 1937 to 1947.” The Carteret County native introduced the nearly 20-part photo-essay series earlier this year on his website, explaining at the time that the images he selected from the N.C. Department of Conservation and Development Collection were taken in the late 1930s into the early 1950s of the state’s farms, industries, and working people.

In this photograph, we see a long line of fishing nets drying in the sun on Harkers Island, N.C., in the fall of 1944.

It is hard to see them, but there are two men talking in the midst of the net reels.

The photographer’s notes only identify one of the men: Stacy W. Davis, a local fisherman, charter boat captain, and fish dealer. That’s his fish house and dock on the far side of the net reels and fishing nets.

Capt. Stacy had built the fish house just before the war. He and his brother Leslie also owned the S.W. Davis & Brother Seafood Co. in Beaufort, on the other side of the North River.

The shoreline is beautiful, but in a way the tranquility of the scene belies the great upheaval that was happening on the island just before and during the Second World War.

When I was younger, old timers from Harkers Island often told me that it all seemed to start with the great hurricane of ’33, which is a story in itself and one that I think I’ll save for another time.

But not all storms come out of the Atlantic, and what happened over the next few years turned island life upside down more than any hurricane or nor’easter ever had.

Just a few years after the ’33 storm, in 1936, Harkers Island’s first road was paved. The age of automobiles and trucks was coming.

Three years later, in 1939, electricity arrived on the island, delivered via a submarine cable that ran beneath North River.

The stars would never be as bright again.

A year later, in the latter part of 1940, the biggest thing of all happened: workers finished building the first bridge from the mainland to Harkers Island. The bridge opened to the public a few weeks later.

That was on New Years Day 1941. Many a time, I have heard old timers say that it was the best and worst day in the island’s history. More than anything, it marked the end of one way of life, the dawn of another.

Then, of course, the war came. Young men and women went away to fight in distant lands and on distant seas. On the island, families crowded around radios to follow the news from places that few of us had known existed until that moment. Soldiers and sailors were everywhere.

An Army camp was built on the island. Soldiers and sailors seemed to be constantly coming and going.

During the war, untold numbers of islanders also crossed the new bridge and went out into the larger world to take jobs at shipyards, military bases, and defense factories. Some commuted every morning to defense jobs as close as the Naval Section Base in Morehead City; others moved as far away as the big shipyards in Wilmington and Newport News.

The Great Depression had worn people down, but suddenly there seemed to be work for any and all.

A hundred things about the war changed the island, but few things more than the War Department building the Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station only 25 miles away in 1942.

Nearly 10,000 men came together at at a remote crossroads on the south side of the Neuse River to build Cherry Point – carpenters, brick masons, ditch diggers, logging crews, railroad builders, and many, many others. Among other things, they laid enough concrete to build what is believed to have been the largest aircraft runway in the world at that time.

Most of those workers were fresh off the farm or right off a fishing boat.

When Cherry Point was finished, people came from all over the country to work there, and most particularly to find jobs at the base’s assembly and repair department, a massive aircraft repair and refitting operation that relied on civilian workers and was usually just called “A&R.”

Those workers included many a Harkers Island fisherman. And when they left their boats and crossed the new bridge, they began a new life in more ways than they possibly could have imagined at the time.

Some of those islanders, my older friends on Harkers Island used to tell me, were saved by that trip to Cherry Point. Others lost.

For the island’s women, the coming of Cherry Point meant, if anything, even more. Because so many men had gone to war, the base employed thousands of women in jobs that would have traditionally fallen to men.

Those jobs ranged from aircraft painters to mechanics, PX and commissary managers to electronics specialists.

My grandmother was one of those women. She lived on a farm in Harlowe, about halfway between Harkers Island and Cherry Point, and she found a job in A&R’s machine shop during the war.

With the opening of Cherry Point, a daughter fresh out of school, perhaps still living with her parents, might suddenly be earning more than her fisherman father and all her brothers put together.

Of course, that changed things. Maybe not right away, but over time.

Likewise, with the coming of the bridge and the war, a lad that had never taken to the water — and there were plenty of young men like that even on Harkers Island — suddenly had a chance for a different kind of life.

I guess what I am saying is that photographs tell some stories, but not others.

Our tranquil scene of fishing nets drying in the sunshine also does not really speak to what had been happening out at sea during the war.

By 1944, things had calmed down out in the Atlantic, but only a couple years earlier, in the first months after Pearl Harbor, the war had seemed much closer to Harkers Island that it did to most of the United States.

Many of the island’s young fishermen had gone into the Navy and Coast Guard, and they were serving all over the world. But the U.S. Navy had also recruited the island’s fishermen for war duty closer to home.

As German submarines torpedoed merchant ships out in the Atlantic, one of the islanders patrolled the beaches out at Shackleford Banks, watching in the surf for the corpses.

Others, when they heard the explosions offshore, had the duty of taking their boats far out into the Atlantic to search for survivors and the dead.

Out in those seas, 15 and 20 miles off Cape Lookout, they often found themselves in a hellish seascape of charred hulls, burning oil slicks and scenes of which few of them would ever speak.

Special thanks as always to my friends at the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum & Heritage Center on Harkers Island.

A portrait of the late Darrell McNary Collins, a beloved historian at the Wright Brothers National Memorial for over 40 years and president emeritus of the Pea Island Cookhouse Museum, was delivered Wednesday to the museum as a gift to Collins’ widow, Tonya Collins, who continues to serve as a board member and treasurer with the Pea Island Preservation Society Inc.

“It is heartwarming to receive such a special gift and refreshing to have someone honor Darrell since his passing,” Tonya Collins said in a statement from the nonprofit that operates the museum. “He would be humbled but appreciative and delighted to continue to play a pivotal role in raising funds to share and promote the remarkable history of the Outer Banks, a place and people he truly loved! “

The presentation of the portrait entitled “A Legacy of Greatness” and painted by Outer Banks artist James Melvin happened on “Honorable Darrell Collins Day,” as proclaimed by Manteo town officials in 2023.

Looking back: Darrell Collins remembered for giving life to Wrights’ story

The portrait is to be on temporary display at the Cookhouse Museum and the artist was to be on hand from 2 p.m. until 4 p.m. Wednesday. A public viewing and program for a larger audience are planned and will be announced early next year.

Darrell Collins, who died on Christmas Eve last year, is remembered for his knowledge and storytelling associated with the Wright brothers and their famous first flight. In addition to working as a historian at the Wright Brothers National Memorial for over 40 years, he was considered among the top aviation historians, according to the news release.

“He was known especially for his ease in blending science and history and for his incredible storytelling technique about the history of flight using an engaging and interactive style that brought smiles and interest to creative people of all ages,” said Pea Island Preservation Society Director of Outreach and Education Joan L. Collins in the release.

In addition to his work with the Pea Island Preservation Society Inc., Collins served as a Manteo town commissioner for 18 years and as mayor pro tem. He also served on the town planning board for 10 years. He entered local government after the sudden death in 2006 of his mother Dellerva Collins, who had been a Manteo commissioner for over 21 years.

Collins’ storytelling earned numerous national and international awards, including the Order of the Long Life Pine, North Carolina’s highest civilian honor for exemplary community service.

He also spoke with authority about Keeper Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers, and he helped create and present a live program to fourth grade students at all Dare County schools for several years and an annual essay contest.

Collins was also a youth basketball coach and player for Dare County Parks and Recreation for more than 25 years.

“The new portrait is also intended to reflect the special connection Darrell had with youth,” Joan Collins said. “He especially enjoyed the smiles and questions he received as he brought to life stories that were considered complicated or especially difficult to hear and to understand.”

Collins’ family history is also connected to the Freedmen’s Colony on Roanoke Island, and the Native American history of the area.

This family history, museum officials said, also includes 400 years of combined service in the U.S. Life-Saving Service and its successor, the U.S. Coast Guard.

The museum on Roanoke Island honors the life-savers at the Pea Island from 1880 until 1947. It is located in the former Pea Island station cookhouse where the crew prepared and ate their meals.

A limited number of high-quality prints made on museum-grade paper and numbered and signed by the artist, will be offered for sale to businesses, organizations, and others as part of the museum’s fundraising efforts.

The museum would like to partner with area businesses and organizations interested in displaying the print for public viewing. 

And those interested in purchasing a limited-edition print are requested to contact the Pea Island Preservation Society by email at friends@peaislandpreservationsociety.com. A board member will then contact you to discuss preferred print size options and next steps.

The Preservation Society intends to make the prints available for shipment or pickup at the Pea Island Cookhouse Museum on Roanoke Island as soon as possible after the new year, so order right away. 

Editor’s note: The following is from historian David Cecelski’s “Working Lives: Photographs from Eastern North Carolina, 1937 to 1947.” The Carteret County native introduced the nearly 20-part photo-essay series earlier this year on his website, explaining at the time that the images he selected from the N.C. Department of Conservation and Development Collection were taken in the late 1930s into the early 1950s of the state’s farms, industries, and working people.

In this photo-essay in my “Working Lives” series, I am looking at several photographs that feature workers on a railroad that old timers, when I was a boy, still called the “Old Mullet Road.”

The real name of the railroad was the Atlantic and North Carolina Railroad (A&NC). First in business in 1858, it ran from the coastal port of Morehead City, west to New Bern, Kinston, and finally Goldsboro.

Owned by the state of North Carolina, the railroad was usually leased to private operators and it played a vital role in opening the economy and communities of the North Carolina coast to the outside world.

In Goldsboro, at the railroad’s western end, other lines connected the A&NC’s passengers and freight to Raleigh and to distant markets and cities such as Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York.

Local people referred to the A&NC as the “Old Mullet Road” because of the seemingly endless barrels of salt mullet that its freight cars carried out of Morehead City in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

With the opening of the railroad in 1858, the local fishery for striped mullet — what we’ve always called “jumping mullet” — grew into the largest saltwater fishery anywhere in the American South.

Long a staple in local pantries, barrels of salt mullet were soon as common in the country stores of eastern North Carolina as pickled pigs feet and rounds of farmers cheese.

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The construction of the A&NC and the building of the coastal town of Morehead City went hand in hand.

The town’s resort trade, its famous charter fishing business, the state port, the local menhaden industry (one of the largest fisheries in the U.S.), and really the region’s entire wholesale seafood industry — none would have been imaginable without the “Old Mullet Road.”

The same could be said for the truck farming business throughout that whole central part of North Carolina’s coastal plain.

Over the years, the A&NC’s trains became part of daily life in the towns and crossroads through which it passed.

For people who lived along the tracks, the coming and going of the train, its whistle, and the sense of curiosity and wonder about what lost soul might be coming home, or what trouble might be arriving, became measures of time passing as much as the tides and the changing of the seasons.

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Taken in Morehead City or New Bern in 1942, this photograph introduces us to one of the railroad’s employees who was something of a legend in that part of eastern North Carolina.

His name was J. B. Davis, people called him “Captain Davis,” and he was a conductor on the railroad for close to half a century.

On Nov. 30, 1924, the Raleigh News & Observer referred to Capt. Davis and the railroad’s three other conductors as “the most popular quartet in this part of the State….”

The paper went on to say, “They know more people than all the politicians in Wayne, Lenoir, Craven, and Carteret counties.”

A railroad conductor saw the best and worst of humanity. Capt. Davis came to know the high and mighty and the utterly defeated, those that were good, and those that were set on evil, people anxious to get back home, and those desperate to get away from home.

Along the railroad’s path, people often sought him out to get the latest news from other towns. Many a day, he was the first to bring word of births and marriages, shipwrecks, hurricanes and floods.

His own life on the railroad was far from uneventful: Capt. Davis was injured in a derailment in 1933, and he and the train’s brakeman were usually the first to reach the poor souls who were killed on the railroad tracks.

In 1939, when a new company, the Atlantic & East Carolina Railroad Co., took over the railroad’s lease, Capt. Davis was fired for allegedly not collecting fares from some of his passengers.

His discharge made headlines across eastern North Carolina, and he was eventually rehired, but there has to be story there.

Maybe he was just looking out for his friends. On the other hand, times were hard in the 1930s and I like to think that maybe now and then he looked the other way and let a penniless soul or two ride for free.

-4-

I assume that this gentleman was one of the train’s firemen, whose job it was to maintain the fire in the engine’s boiler by shoveling coal and watching the boiler’s water levels as well.

A 1947 newspaper article concerning a derailment mentions an A&NC fireman named Henry Peterson. This may be him, but I cannot be sure.

Judging from the way he holds himself, I might have thought that he was the train’s engineer, but that was not possible in eastern North Carolina in the first half of the 20th century because he was African American.

At the turn of the 20th century, the A&NC’s president was a New Bern banker and real estate mogul named James A. Bryan.

Bryan was one of the leaders of the white supremacy movement that swept North Carolina in the period from 1898 to 1900. To attract New Bern’s white working class men to the white supremacy cause, he promised to discharge all of the railroad’s black employees and give their jobs to white workers.

After the Wilmington Massacre and the victory of the white supremacists in November 1898, Bryan lived up to his promise.

According to documents preserved in the Bryan Family Papers at UNC-Chapel Hill’s Southern Historical Collection, he discharged dozens of A&NC conductors, porters, brakemen, mechanics, blacksmiths, and other skilled railroad men in 1899 and 1900.

He also fired many of the company’s lowest level black employees, including the night watchman at the company’s rail yard.

In exchange for white workingmen’s support for a state constitutional amendment that took all voting rights from the state’s black citizens, Bryan also pledged to embed white supremacy in the railroad’s labor policies into the future.

In practice, that meant: the A&NC’s managers would hire and promote whites preferentially, regardless of qualifications or experience; would never pay a black worker as much as a white worker; would never employ a black individual in a management role; and would never hire or promote a black man or woman into a job–such as locomotive engineer– that gave them supervisory responsibilities over any white employee.

The railroad’s policies with respect to race were still in place in 1942.

You can learn more about James A. Bryan’s leadership in New Bern’s white supremacy campaign, and see some of the manuscripts related to his firing of the A&NC’s black workers, in my essay, “The Other Coup D’Etat: Remembering New Bern in 1898.”

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Only a few years before these photographs were taken, the railroad had seemed on its last legs.

The private railroad company that had leased the track from the State of North Carolina since 1904, the Norfolk & Southern, had defaulted in 1934, a victim of the Great Depression.

After the Norfolk & Southern’s default, state coffers could not keep up with the railroad’s maintenance and repair needs. Years of neglect began taking their toll: broken railroad ties abounded, embankments needed reinforcement, and much about the old railroad seemed frayed and worn out. Reports of derailments grew more common.

Things began to look up in 1939 however, when the state finally found a new private company to take over the railroad’s lease.

The new company, the Atlantic & Eastern North Carolina, invested in new engines and track repairs, updated at least some depots, and even repainted the cars a perky “Spanish blue” instead of the old dull black.

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Then the war came. Everybody was on the move. Soldiers, sailors, defense workers, and civilians of all kinds.

A new prosperity was in the air, heightening the demand for carrying passengers and hauling the region’s agricultural products and other freight.

Probably most importantly, the federal government began constructing two massive new military installations on the central part of the North Carolina coast in 1941 and ’42. To build the two bases, the railroad’s freight cars would carry enough lumber, brick, piping, and other construction materials to build two good-sized cities from scratch.

The railroad ran a short spur from Havelock Station into the construction site for the Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station (originally called Cunningham Field). To the south, the railroad carried construction materials to Camp Lejeune via a track that ran from New Bern to Jacksonville, then along a short spur owned and operated by the Navy.

By the time these photographs were taken, the railroad was making a profit again for the first time in recent memory.

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The war changed the railroad and the North Carolina coast in a thousand ways, some easy to get used to, and some that probably haunted the workers that we have met here — Capt. Davis, the fireman, the mail clerk, the brakeman, and the porter in the photograph above — for their rest of their lives.

More than 25 years ago, I interviewed an elderly woman named Gretchen Brinson in Morehead City.

During the early part of World War II, Ms. Brinson had been a nurse in the burn unit of the town’s little hospital when German U-boats were sinking merchant vessels off that part of the North Carolina coast.

This is an excerpt from that interview:

“I married Bull Brinson in 1937. While my daughter was still an infant, I started working at the hospital. Very shortly, we began hearing depth charges and if they had a strike we could see the fires, the ships burning.

“The debris washed up on the ocean front, and there were several years we couldn’t swim up there because of the debris and the oil slicks.

“We could see the ships burning.

“When there was a strike out there at night, we knew this had happened and that next morning there would be casualties come in. Bodies, corpses did wash in on the beach. And they were brought into the hospital: burns, all manner of traumatic situations. The hospital was full. It was only a 30-bed hospital. They lay in the hall on cots. We were not prepared for the onslaught.”

She continued:

“Many of the young men who came here, son, did not live. When the 3 o’clock train left town, the baggage car doors were most always open, and you could see several coffins in their wooden boxes, being shipped to other places. There was seldom a day for months, maybe a year or more, when there were not one or two or three or possibly more that went out on that 3 o’clock train.”

-End-

My story “Gretchen Brinson: A Born Nurse” originally appeared in my “Listening to History” series in the Raleigh News & Observer on June 14, 1998. You can find a copy of the story here. 

The Cape Fear Museum of History and Science will be temporarily closing later this month in preparation for opening its new facility in downtown Wilmington.

The museum’s Market Street location will close to the public beginning at 5 p.m. on Dec. 31 to allow staff to safely prepare and relocate more than 400 artifacts to be displayed at the new building at 230 Grace St.

“This process, including the move of items and installation of new exhibits, will take approximately seven months to complete, with an anticipated opening in July 2026,” according to a release. “Once open, this downtown block will be anchored by the Museum and Public Library, creating a cultural hub for residents and visitors.”

The new facility will accommodate permanent exhibitions, classrooms, an outdoor terrace, 60-seat planetarium, play spaces, hands-on exhibits and gallery, outdoor learning gallery, traveling exhibition gallery, and more.

The museum’s current home at 814 Market St. will function as a dedicated research facility, exhibition design and fabrication workshop, and collections and management complex once the new building opens.

“The museum team has spent years developing exhibition content to bring a modern, state-of-the-art cultural amenity to New Hanover County,” museum Director Kate Baillon said in a release. “Cape Fear Museum’s facility in the Grace District will offer a dynamic and immersive educational experience that celebrates our region’s history, science, and cultures. We look forward to welcoming visitors in summer 2026.”

The museum is open 9 a.m. – 5 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday and 1-5 p.m. on Sunday. It will be closed Dec. 24-26 for the Christmas holiday.

Moores Creek National Battlefield in Pender County is commemorating Feb. 26-28 the 250th anniversary of the Battle of Moores Creek Bridge and is looking for food vendors to join the celebration.

The Battle at Moores Creek was the first decisive patriot victory in the American Revolution and led to North Carolina to be the first colony to authorize its delegates to the 2nd Continental Congress to vote for independence, according to America 250th NC, the state-organized commemoration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence.

“As part of this historic celebration, we are inviting local food trucks to be part of the festivities and serve between 5,000 and 7,500 visitors over the two days,” organizers said in the press release.

Organizers are looking for food trucks that meet the following criteria:

• Be within 25 miles of the battlefield in Pender County.
• Offer breakfast items such as coffee, donuts, pastries, and other morning fare.
• Offer menu items such as seafood, international flavors and creative alternatives.
• Follow federal, state, and local health codes, which the park will specify.
• Have a ServSafe Certification.
• Be able to commit to both days.
• Submit a menu with pricing upon submission.
• Have liability insurance.

“This is a unique opportunity to be part of a major milestone in American history while showcasing your culinary offerings to a diverse and enthusiastic crowd,” officials said.

Interested vendors should contact the battlefield office at 910-283-7213, no later than Jan. 10 to express interest and receive additional details.

The national memorial on the Outer Banks that honors the accomplishments of Wilbur and Orville Wright is celebrating Dec. 17 the 122nd anniversary of the brothers’ first heavier-than-air, controlled, powered flight.

Starting at 8:30 a.m. at the Wright Brothers National Memorial in Kill Devil Hills, the National Park Service will be joined for the celebration by Dare County Schools, and the nonprofit organizations, the First Flight Society and Outer Banks Forever. The First Flight Society promotes awareness of the history and future of flight. Outer Banks Forever is the official nonprofit partner of the Wright Brothers site, as well as the Cape Hatteras National Seashore and Fort Raleigh National Historic Site.

Park entrance fees are waived for the day.

As part of this year’s program, the First Flight Society will induct at 9 a.m. William P. Lear (1902-1978) into its Paul E. Garber Shrine, a portrait gallery located inside the memorial’s visitor center that honors those who have achieved significant firsts in aviation. Lear was an American inventor and businessman, best known for founding Lear Jet Industries. His portrait will be installed inside the gallery at 11 a.m.

The First Flight Society established the shrine in 1966 and named it after the curator and historian at the Smithsonian Institution who played a key role in the 1946 National Air Museum.

An introduction Wright Flight Academy is at 9:10 a.m. The two-year program began in 2023 as part of Dare County School’s Aviation Program, which offers juniors and seniors an opportunity to learn about aviation, science, and engineering while building a workable airplane on the memorial’s grounds.

At 10 a.m. as part of the celebration, students plan to unveil their completed airplane built during the academy. The build is the second airplane ever constructed on the historic site, “following in the footsteps of the Wright brothers’ and carrying their legacy into a modern classroom,” organizers said.

“The project underscores how Career and Technical Education, strengthened by community partnerships, can inspire the next generation of aviators and engineers. In a true full-circle moment, students are carrying forward the same spirit of innovation that launched the world’s first flight on the very ground where aviation history began,” organizers continued.

Throughout the day there will be demonstrations with the replica 1903 Wright Flyer, and the Wright Brothers Monument will be open for visitors to view the lower atrium, weather dependent. Ranger-led educational programs outside of the visitor center are scheduled for 1 p.m. and 2:30 p.m.

The First Flight Society‘s annual luncheon that commemorates the flight anniversary will be from 12:30 to 3 p.m. that afternoon at Jennette’s Pier in Nags Head. The organization invited to speak from the Lear world, Bill Lear’s daughter, Shanda Lear-Baylor, and Jeff Coggins, chief pilot and assistant director of operations for the Phoenix Air Group. Lunch will be served and there will be a silent auction. Tickets are $60 each before Dec. 10 or $75 after, and available on the website.

Moores Creek National Battlefield will return to the 18th century for the day as part of its “Christmas Comes to Currie” celebration set for 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday, Dec. 13.

Park staff, volunteers and historians will provide a variety of programs focused on celebrating Christmas in the 18th century. Demonstrations will include Christmas cooking, playing 18th century toys and games, candlemaking, colonial music and more.

Santa Claus will visit the historic site 1-3 p.m.

The battlefield is the site of the first decisive Patriot Victory of the American Revolution. Moores Creek Bridge was crossed by Loyalist forces, many of whom were recently emigrated Scots Highlanders, on the morning of Feb. 27, 1776. The Loyalists made several attempts to take a fortified Patriot position on the opposite side of the bridge and were defeated.

For a full listing of details for the free event, visit www.facebook.com/moorescreeknps or www.nps.gov/mocr.

Update 11 a.m. Tuesday: Organizers announced late Tuesday morning that the Core Sound Chow Down set for Friday night has been canceled because of the weather forecast. Ticketholders can submit using an online form their preference to refund the ticket to the event held entirely outside. Options are a full refund, transfer to 2026 or donate the cost to the museum. Festivities on Saturday and Sunday will continue as planned.

Original post:

One of the first signs that the holidays are upon us is when the two-story Christmas tree made entirely of crab pots begins to illuminate the grounds of the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center on Harkers Island.

The multicolor glow from the symbol of Christmas — plus all the holiday lights decorating the sizable facility — also means that the Waterfowl Weekend is just around the corner.

The museum, which highlights the heritage of the 13 unincorporated communities of Down East Carteret County, has held the annual celebration the first weekend of December for the last few decades, and are gearing up for this year’s scheduled for Dec. 5-7.

The weekend gets underway Friday evening with the Core Sound Chow Down stew competition, a ticketed event. The doors open to the public at 8 a.m. Saturday and again at 10 a.m. Sunday. During both days, visitors can meet the more than 45 carvers, artists, photographers and crafters set up at the festival.

While winding down Harkers Island Road on the way to the museum, travelers will pass homes decorated to the hilt, and residents selling crafts on the roadside.

They’ll also drive by Harkers Island School, where the Core Sound Decoy Carvers Guild’s 37^th annual Core Sound Decoy Festival is taking place. From 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. Saturday and 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Sunday, the campus will be filled with carvers, vendors and antique decoy exhibits. Carving competitions are scheduled throughout both days, and food will be available for purchase.

When the Waterfowl Weekend was in its early days, the focus was mainly on decoys, but the festival has evolved over the years and is now a part of the holiday celebration for many.

“We have turned what used to be a weekend for decoys to a season of traditions,” Executive Director Karen Willis Amspacher told Coastal Review, and a large part of that is the joy and nostalgia that holiday decorations invoke.

“The museum’s Christmas lights are about Core Sound. Celebrating communities and traditions. That’s what we do every day,” she said.

The two-plus-story Christmas tree made of crab pots and the “Gallery of Trees: Telling our Story” are “part of that celebration for sure,” she explained. The Gallery of Trees features crab pot trees that families, friends and area businesses sponsor and decorate. The first was first held in 2020 and has become a special part of Waterfowl Weekend.

Amspacher said that adding the giant tree made of crab pots to the holiday decor was inspired by social media, with the first try in 2010 or 2011.

“Blame it on Facebook. We kept seeing pics from Maine where they were stacking lobster traps and Maryland where they were stacking crab baskets and we said ‘why not?’” Amspacher said. “The first attempts were a learning experience — small and sometimes more square than round — but then Abbi (Davis) and Kenny (Brennan) took on the project, and their engineering skills and a lot of rebar and zip ties made it happen.”

The small team of volunteers spent the last few days of this October building the 2025 tree, including Davis, a Harkers Island native.

Davis began working part time at Core Sound on and off the summer of 2015 and again while she was attending trade school. Now a volunteer, she helps when she can, which isn’t very often because her career keeps her on the road a fair bit, she said. She currently resides in South Carolina where she’s a lineman.

“The museum is such an incredible place,” Davis told Coastal Review.

Core Sound has captured the sense of place “that most people have a really hard time understanding if they haven’t lived it and gave them a glimpse into the culture of Down East. That is something that would have otherwise been long forgotten by the world.”

Though the tree of crab pots was part of the picture before she began working there, Davis started helping out with the tree in 2015, when the lights were powered by a generator that had to be regularly be fueled up.

“I remember I would ride down there to look at it because it was so beautiful but I also worked at the museum so I took on the job of being the ‘gas lady’ whenever I could that year,” Davis said.

There was a pause on putting the tree up for a few seasons because it became harder to borrow crab pots, compounded by the damage to the facility from 2018’s Hurricane Florence that closed the main building for a few years to undergo repairs.  

“In 2020 I started working there again and when I did, we talked about making Christmas big,” Davis continued. “That year I wanted the tree to make a comeback. I remember asking everyone I knew who had crab pots or who had been a crabber in the past, if we could get some for this tree. Everyone I talked to was excited but finding someone that had pots available and the time wasn’t easy.”

The first year that Davis took the project on, her father and sister helped load the crab pots into the back of her pickup truck and in a trailer to haul to the museum. “It took three trips,” Davis said.

Davis explained that the team likes to “joke and say the engineering is a little bit organic because it doesn’t have to be exactly the same to work.” And they’ve been working together for so long, that “at this point we just know what to do.”

Their favorite saying is that “we’re making circles out of squares,” she continued. “We always start with the same amount for the bottom. Make a ring out of pots basically and then fill it in. Each row is done the same way just a smaller number of pots until it gets to the top. The pots are secured through heavy duty wire ties and rebar.”

This year, it took 170 crab pots arranged in 12 rows to build the 23-foot-tall tree.

Once the tree is complete, a glowing handmade star is placed on top.

“The coolest part about this tree for me is what it represents. These pots are actually used by commercial fisherman in the sound. Every year they harvest and haul hard crabs. Knowing that they’re real and not something just bought for decoration,” Davis said.

New this year, the tree is being decorated with buoys hand-painted by local kids, “which is really special,” she said, “And knowing that in every way possible this tree is Down East, makes it absolutely great! It captures the spirit like many things at the museum and it’s put on display so the world can have a chance to see a small glimpse of that.”

“Because everyone loves,” the giant Christmas tree, it is being featured on the museum’s holiday apparel line, Amspacher said. “It has become a symbol of Down East Christmas.”

Waterfowl Weekend details

The fourth annual Core Sound Chow Down and Best Sweet Potato Pie Down East competition starts at 5:30 p.m. Friday. Tickets, $35 for members and $45 for nonmembers, include four cups of your choice from the spread of chowders, soups and stews made by cooks from around the county. Molasses Creek will perform live music.

Competitors returning this year are D’s Island Clam Chowder, Per-Atlantic Crab and Corn Chowder, and Gloucester Mardi Gras Chicken and Sausage Gumbo. New this year will be stewed shrimp, crab-shrimp bisque, stewed scallops, chili, and Cedar Island original lima beans and crab meat. The submissions will be judged by seafood market and chefs from across eastern North Carolina.

Doors open at 8 a.m. Saturday and 10 a.m. Sunday, and each day has special programming.

On Saturday there will be live music at 11 a.m. with Asher Brinson and Friends, noon with Mac McRoy and The South Point Band, and 1 p.m. with Molasses Creek. Preview for the live auction is at 2 p.m. and the auction begins at 3 p.m. The online auction is live now through Dec. 6.

On Sunday, a church service is scheduled for 8 a.m. and at 2 p.m. is a World War II Pearl Harbor Day memorial gathering.

Every year, the museum’s “Core Sound Quilt Crew” sew a quilt that is put up for action to raise funds for the nonprofit museum. This year’s theme is “Reflections of Diamond City.” Tickets can be purchased online for the quilt raffle, as well as the Christmas raffle. Winner takes home $5,000.

The North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources has a full schedule of holiday events planned at sites across the state, several of which are in eastern North Carolina.

From candlelight tours of historic sites like Brunswick Town/Fort Anderson State Historic Site to programs at state parks, the department that manages, promotes, and enhances the state’s diverse arts and culture, rich history, and natural areas provided a schedule of festive festivities through the next month.

Tree lighting at Historic Bath 6-7:30 p.m. Nov. 29. Enjoy light refreshments, music with soloist David Harragin, and Santa. Free. 

Holiday Pops with the North Carolina Symphony at Riverfront Convention Center in New Bern, 4 and 7:30 p.m. Dec. 2. Tickets start at $50 and can be purchased online or at the New Bern Visitors Center on Front Street.

History of Santa Claus, Patron Saint of Sailors 11 a.m. Dec. 4 at Fort Macon State Park. During this family friendly presentation, N.C. Maritime Museum Associate Education Curator Christine Brin will try to answer some questions about the jolly fellow without taking away any of the magic. Visit ncmaritimemuseumbeaufort.com/virtual to attend the program online.

Yuletide by Lantern at Historic Halifax 4-8 p.m. Dec. 5. Visit homes, public buildings, and taverns decorated for the season with festive, all-natural décor, experience interactive historical vignettes and enjoy a warm fire in the Tap Room tavern. Tickets are required for this event on Eventbrite or at the site.

Holiday Open House: A Colonial Christmas by America 250 NC at the Museum of the Albemarle 10 a.m.-3 p.m. Dec. 6. Watch the Albemarle Express model train stop at each of the 13 counties represented at the museum, and receive a keepsake bell. A petting zoo with farm animals is scheduled for 10:30 a.m.-1:30 p.m., holiday face painting from 12:30-2:30 p.m. and visits with Santa Claus from 1:30-2:30 p.m.

Candlelight Christmas at Somerset Place 4-5:30 p.m. Dec. Take a self-guided tour of traditional holiday decorations illuminated by candlelight inside the historic Collins House in Creswell. Admission is $5 for adults $2 for children.

Friends of the Maritime Museum Holiday Flotilla evening of Dec. 6. Join the Friends of the North Carolina Maritime Museum in Beaufort for their annual Holiday Flotilla! Yachts, oars, kayaks and commercial vessels decorated for the season can be seen at 5:30 p.m. on the Morehead City waterfront and at 6:15 p.m. on the Beaufort waterfront. 

Island Jingle at Roanoke Island Festival Park 5:30 p.m. Dec. 6. Free event is follows the annual Town of Manteo Christmas Parade. Music will start at 6:30 p.m. with The Tilet Sisters hosting. Music by That Guy Shane, Doug Dino, The Lion Band, Jeremy Russell, plus the Mustang All Stars and Mustang Kids bands. All proceeds from concessions run by the Friends of Elizabeth II go to support the Mustang Outreach Program.

Somerset Place’s 35th Christmas Open House 1-4 p.m. Dec. 7. Explore the plantation on a self-guided tour with staff members and volunteers available to answer questions. mingle with Saint Nicholas from 2-3:30 p.m. Admission is free but donations are welcome. https://events.dncr.nc.gov/event/somerset-places-35th-christmas-open-house

Holiday Pops with the North Carolina Symphony at Wilson Center at Cape Fear Community in Wilmington 3 p.m. and 7 p.m. Dec. 11. Tickets available on the symphony’s website.

A Light in the Darkest of Night at Brunswick Town/Fort Anderson State Historic Site 4-7 p.m. Dec. 12. Self-guided exploration of the ruins of St. Philips Church. The site’s visitor center and gift shop will remain open during the evening for holiday shopping. 

The John Costlow Christmas Train Show at the Harvey W. Smith Watercraft Center in Beaufort Dec. 12-14. The annual train show, hosted by Beaufort Lions Club and the North Carolina Maritime Museum in Beaufort, offers a glimpse into the past with antique working model trains and model trains of all sizes. Admission is free. Children ages 12 and younger will need to be accompanied by an adult. 

Holiday Hike to the Light at Jockey’s Ridge State Park 5:30-6:30 p.m. Dec. 13. Join Ranger Paul Austin for a fun and festive evening hike to the light. Experience the dunes at night with an educational tour up to the solar powered Christmas tree. Email austin.paul@ncparks.gov to register. 

Santa by the Sea at the North Carolina Aquarium at Pine Knoll Shores 9 a.m.-5 p.m. Dec. 13. Games and activities will be stationed throughout the aquarium. Tickets available on the aquarium’s website.

Candlelight at Tryon Palace, Farewell to our Royal Governors 4:30-9:30 p.m. Dec. 13 and Dec. 20. The Governor’s Mansion will be illuminated by candlelight while costumed interpreters present a story that relates to back to the Palace’s colonial history.

An 18th Century Christmas at Brunswick Town/Fort Anderson State Historic Site 1-5:30 p.m. Dec. 14. Participate in an authentic period candlelit service in the ruins of St. Philips Anglican Church from 5-5:30 p.m. Tickets can be purchased at the gate upon arrival at the site located in Winnabow.

Holiday Pops with the North Carolina Symphony at Northside High School in Jacksonville 7:30 p.m. Dec. 17. Tickets available on the symphony’s website.

Cookies and Crafts: Christmas Open House at CSS Neuse Museum 10 a.m.-3 p.m. Dec. 18. Enjoy Christmas lights, cookies, crafts, and activities at the site in Kinston.

Holiday Cheer at Historic Bath 4-7 p.m. Dec. 20. Visit Bonner Point under the marquee tent to enjoy wassail and hot cider, ginger muffins and festive music. There will be 20-minute tours of the Bonner House focusing on the 19th-century household, and a chance to visit Carrow Cottage that portrays a family of fishermen.

Twelfth Night at Roanoke Island Festival Park 9 a.m.-4 p.m. Dec. 27. Black-powder demonstrations, carols aboard the ship, archery, scavenger hunts, and more activities happening throughout the park in Manteo. Included in cost of admission.

New Year’s Eve Cannon Blast at Fort Macon State Park Dec. 31. Live entertainment starts at 6 p.m., and the cannons will go off at 7 p.m. at the site in Carteret County. Bring folding chairs and a picnic meal. Come early as parking is limited. 

The Indian Woods historical marker at the intersection of St. Francis Road and U.S. Highway 17 in Bertie County is easily missed while cruising at 55 or 60 miles an hour.

Located at the edge of a farmer’s field after the fall harvest of cotton, the sign leans to the north, and hints of the story and its aftermath of an almost forgotten war between Native Americans and colonists in the early 18th century.

It is the northernmost of at least seven signs that are found throughout coastal North Carolina from Wayne County to Bertie County that trace the story of that conflict.

The Tuscarora War was brutal and horrific. Launching a coordinated attack on the morning of Sept. 22, 1711, Tuscarora warriors slaughtered 140 men, women and children throughout eastern North Carolina.

“The Tuscarora devastated white settlements in the Pamlico Neuse region and raised serious fears for the continuance of English occupation in North Carolina,” Thomas Parramore wrote for the North Carolina Historical Review in 1982.

Unable to defend its own people, the North Carolina colony’s general assembly begged Virginia and South Carolina for help.

Virginia refused to send troops, but put pressure on neutral Tuscarora villages in its colony to remain out of the conflict. South Carolina sent combined white and Native forces.

In the end in March of 1713, when the last pitched battle of the war was fought at Fort Neoheroka, which is present day Snow Hill in Greene County, at least a thousand Tuscarora were dead and another thousand sold into slavery in South Carolina.

In North Carolina, as many as 200 colonists were killed and the combined white and Native combatants provided by South Carolina suffered an additional 200 deaths.

Tuscarora lineage

The Tuscarora were part of the Iroquois, whose original lands stretched from New York state into Canada. The migration to North Carolina most likely occurred sometime around the 1500s, Dr. Arwin Smallwood, dean of the College of Arts, Social Sciences and Humanities at North Carolina Central University, told Coastal Review.

Smallwood, who traces his lineage to the Tuscarora people, grew up in Indian Woods and has studied the history of the Tuscarora extensively.

“In the 1500s they’d already moved down from (New York) and settled North Carolina,” he said, adding that “they never broke their blood ties to the five nations,” which are the Mohawk, Oneida, Onondaga, Cayuga and Seneca.

By the 1580s, when Sir Walter Raleigh’s doomed expeditions landed on Roanoke Island, the Tuscarora were well established in eastern North Carolina and probably were the dominant Native nation of the region. They may have been the ones who decided the colony’s fate.

“Tuscarora oral traditions say they were the ones who destroyed the Lost Colony,” Smallwood said. “They always had large numbers of people who had European characteristics like red and auburn hair, even sometimes blonde hair, but definitely what (Native Americans) called the Tuscarora eye, which was blue-green, kind of a hazel eye, that was prevalent throughout the Tuscaroras and that distinguished them.”

War: Longtime complaints

At its simplest, the Tuscarora War was about long-established complaints of the Tuscarora: Encroachment on lands they had traditionally controlled and unfair and dishonest trading practices.

But, Smallwood noted, there were other factors at play.

It was “trade routes. The Tuscaroras controlled the Piedmont and the coastal plains of North Carolina. They controlled all the major trade routes between North Carolina and Virginia,” he said. “Anyone who needed knives, axes, guns, gunpowder, whatever they had to trade through them, including rum. They had to trade through the Tuscaroras. For the southeastern Indians, it was a way of eliminating them as the people who monopolized trade.”

It is possible that, after at least 60 years of observing the internal politics of the North Carolina colony, the Tuscarora were aware of the internal rivalries that were threatening to tear the colony apart, and that may have played a role in the timing of the initial attack.

Cary’s Rebellion pitted Thomas Cary, the Quaker-leaning former governor of the colony, against Edward Hyde, who the Lords Proprietors had selected to govern the colony. The rebellion exposed the deep political divisions within the colony that led to open warfare with Hyde finally taking the reins of the governorship in 1711.

At that time, the colony was divided into two counties: Albemarle in the north and Bath in the south. Although in 1711 the nominal capital of the colony was Bath. There was no government office there and it’s doubtful if the population of the town ever reached 300 people.

The northern Albemarle colony was dominated by the supporters of Hyde and the resentment from Cary’s attempt to wrest control of the colony permeated the region.

“The Cary Rebellion had pitted Albemarle against Bath and had left the colonists of the two counties somewhat at odds with each other. It was by no means clear that Albemarle would rush to the defense of Bath County and, in fact, it did not,” Parramore wrote.

If there was a proximate cause of the war, it was the settlement of New Bern by Swiss immigrants and members of the Palatine religious sect escaping religious persecution in Europe.

“New Bern was built on what (the Tuscarora) considered to be part of their capital city,” Smallwood said.

Baron Christopher DeGraffenreid, the founder of New Bern, in his “Account of the Tuscarora War,” touched on many of the issues that have been cited as causing the conflict.

“What caused the Indian war was firstly, the slanders and instigations of certain plotters against Governor Hyde, and secondly, against me, in that they talked the Indians into believing that I had come to take their land,” he wrote. “Talked them out of this and it was proven by the friendliness I had shown them, as also by the payment for the land where I settled at the beginning (namely that upon which the little city of New Bern was begun), regardless of the fact that the seller was to have given it over to me free.”

Captured with surveyor John Lawson, DeGraffenreid was able to talk his way out of imprisonment and possible death.

It is possible Lawson could have avoided his fate, but, Smallwood said, “he quarreled with the chiefs. You’re being held prisoner, and you’ve been put on trial, and then you go argue with the prosecuting attorney and the judge who decides whether you live or die.”

Lawson, whose book “History of North Carolina” gave accurate and clear-eyed accounts of Native life in the colonies, was not so lucky, and may have had a hand in his own undoing. Accused by his captors of surveying the Tuscarora land for the purpose of selling it, he was tried and convicted and sentenced to death.

Like the North Carolina colony, the Tuscarora had internal divisions. Parramore described the Tuscarora as “not a nation and probably not even a confederacy though colonial perceptions of them had not traditionally recognized any significant internal divisions.”

Smallwood, however, paints a different picture.

“The whole structure was family based,” he said. “With that being said, they were all united because the whole nation is united by blood.”

Within that nation family, there were specific ways to make decisions that would affect all members for the Tuscarora nation, Smallwood said, describing the decision-making process as “a democracy.”

Smallwood explained that Lawson was convicted after “all of the chiefs met in the war council. In that council, they all agree to execute Lawson.”

War: First conflict

When the war first broke out in 1711, South Carolina sent military aid. Col. John Barnwell left South Carolina with “30 white men and nearly 500 Indians,” the Carolana website states.

Although Barnwell may have included giving military aid to North Carolina in his reasoning, by his actions and those of the men under his command, the profit that could be realized from the bounty on scalps and selling Native Americans into slavery was an important part of why he made the trip.

Thomas Peotta in his 2018 doctoral dissertation, “Dark Mimesis: A Cultural History of the Scalping Paradigm,” at the University of British Columbia, describes how profitable scalps and prisoners could be.

“Virginia and Carolina offered scalp and prisoner bounties to militiamen and allied Indians. Virginia…offered £20 per scalp to British colonists, while uninvolved Tuscaroras on Virginia’s frontier were offered a bounty of 6 blankets apiece…for the scalps of Hancock’s warriors, and market prices for enslaved women and children,” he wrote.

For Barnwell, the scalps had an additionally benefit, Peotta wrote, noting that “scalps and prisoners also offered a way to tally the dead: Barnwell’s forces recorded 52 scalps and 30 captives after (his) victory at Torhunta in 1712.” Torhunta is present day Pikeville in Wayne County.

After a series of battles with the Tuscarora including a 10-day siege at their main settlement in Craven County, Barnwell reached an agreement with the Tuscarora combatants to pay tribute and lay down their arms. After signing the agreement, he invited some of the local Indians, who had not attacked the colonists, into his camp. They were then seized, DeGraffenreid wrote, and sold into slavery

“He thought of a means of going back to South Carolina with profit, and under the pretense of a good peace he enticed a goodly number of the friendly Indians or savage Carolinians, took them prisoner at Core Town (to this his tributary Indians were entirely inclined because they hoped to get a considerable sum from each prisoner) and made his way home with his living plunder…This so unchristian act very properly embittered the rest of the Tuscarora and Carolina Indians very much, although heathens, so that they no longer trusted the Christians,” he wrote.

War: Conclusion

The action reignited the war, with King Hancock again leading the Tuscarora aligned with him. Renewing the conflict may have been justified, but it was not sanctioned by the war council, allowing the northern Tuscarora to remain neutral.

It would take another military expedition from South Carolina, this one led by Col. James Moore to end the war, but it also led to an open rift between King Hancock and the northern Tuscarora.

King Hancock was captured by northern Tuscarora at the orders of Chief Blunt (or Blount) in November of 1712 and turned over to North Carolina authorities who executed him.

The war did not end with Hancock’s death, however.

The agreement with Blunt was that he was to deliver the scalps of key leaders to North Carolina authorities by the end of the year. When he failed to do so, Moore renewed his campaign.

Finally, following a three-day siege at Fort Neoheroka the war came to an end, although there were sporadic raids and fighting until 1715.

Aftermath

For the tribal nations that had aligned with the South Carolina expeditions, their participation sparked “a continental war in the back country,” Smallwood explained.

“Because of the role,” Smallwood continued. “Those Indians in that area played in the war, it set off a continental Indian War. he Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondaga, the Senecas, and (allied tribes) came south, and they completely obliterated the (the southern tribes).”

In North Carolina, the war was a harbinger of extraordinary change. Initially the war’s end brought brought economic hardship to what was then called Bath County, an area that now includes Beaufort, Hyde, Bladen, Onslow, Carteret and New Hanover counties.

“The concentration of Indian attacks on frontier settlements during the war and the continuation of raids after the peace of 1713 stifled economic growth in Bath County and contributed to temporary food shortages throughout the colony,” Christine Styrna explained in a 1990 doctoral dissertation at the College of William and Mary.

But if the initial effect was to wreak havoc on the colony’s economy, the war also “provided certain colonial leaders with the opportunity to reinforce their economic and political power while serving as a catalyst for economic development,” Styrna noted.

Bath and New Bern had taken the brunt of the Tuscarora raids, and there, Styrna wrote, “colonists slowly rebuilt their homes and fortunes.”

The rest of the colony, though, experienced a “boom period” in which coastal and local trade increased dramatically. According to the shipping reports Styrna cites from the Boston Newsletter, “the number of vessels sailing to and from ports in North Carolina ports elsewhere between 1716 and 1720 increased fourfold in comparison to the five-year period before the war.”

If, however, North Carolina was on the road to recovery, the fate of the Tuscarora was one of enslavement and exile, leading to a diaspora of the tribal nation that stretched from North Carolina to Canada.

Most of the southern Tuscarora emigrated north. The largest group returned to the Iroquois in New York, becoming numerous enough that in 1722 the Tuscarora became the sixth nation of the Iroquois Confederacy.

As they moved north, some settled in Pennsylvania. There is today, a Tuscarora Mountain in south central Pennsylvania.

Many of them, though, settled in small communities throughout North Carolina and other states east of the Mississippi.

“It’s like you take a plate or mirror and you drop it on the floor and it shatters and shards go everywhere,” Smallwood said. “There’s some big chunks, and then there are lots of little chunks. And those little chunks, are scattered all over eastern North Carolina. They’re at least today, seven different factions of Tuscaroras that are (in North Carolina). And larger groups of them who are in Virginia, and even over into eastern Ohio.”

Coastal Review will not publish Thursday and Friday in observation of the Thanksgiving holiday.

A series of events will kick off beginning Thursday to commemorate and honor the victims of the 1898 Wilmington Massacre and Coup D’etat.

The annual remembrance will feature a host of programs, beginning with a soil jar display program event at the University of North Carolina Wilmington’s Sherman Hayes Gallery at 6 p.m. Thursday.

Programs will continue through the weekend, including an 1898 wreath-laying ceremony at 9 a.m. at 1898 Memorial Park, 1018 N. Third St.

A full list of events with links to registrations is available online.

The massacre took place on Nov. 10, 1898, when a mob of armed white men marched to a local African American newspaper and set it on fire following a campaign by prominent white citizens in the city to overthrow the legally elected biracial city government.

After setting The Daily Record office ablaze, the violent mob rushed the city’s Northside, attacking African Americans. The number of African American Wilmington residents who died that day remains unknown.

Local elected officials, forced to resign, were replaced by white supremacist leaders.

An online interactive map provides more information and a timeline of events that unfolded during the massacre.

Arrr! you worried you won’t make it to the Ocracoke Pirate Jamboree because of the ongoing closure of a section of N.C. 12 on Ocracoke Island?

Well matey, we’ve got some good news for you.

You can still walk the plank onto the passenger-only ferry that runs from Hatteras to Ocracoke or walk on the sound class vehicle ferries from Cedar Island or Swan Quarter to get to the jamboree, one sure to immerse visitors in Ocracoke Island’s pirate lore and the legend of Blackbeard.

“We encourage our visitors to hop on the passenger ferry or walk-on from the mainland,” Ocracoke Access Alliance Executive Director Justin LeBlanc said in a release.  “Our village is quite walkable, there are bikes and golf carts available for rent, and we hope to have our public tram running for the weekend.”

All ferry terminals offer free parking on a first-come, first-served basis.

The North Carolina Department of Transportation continues to work to clear N.C. 12 on Ocracoke with the hope of re-opening one lane of the road by 5 p.m. Friday, though “much depends on any additional overwash of the road during the next high tide,” scheduled for later today, according to a release.

Vehicle ferry operations, which have been suspended because of the closure of N.C. 12 at the north end of Ocracoke Island, will resume once the road reopens.

“We appreciate the efforts of the NC Ferry Division to provide access to the island during this difficult time,” LeBlanc said.  “Folks who choose the passenger ferry will be returned to their vehicles in Hatteras at the end of their visit to our wonderful island.”

Passengers of the Ocracoke Express, which bypasses N.C. 12, are delivered directly into the village where the festival kicked off Friday. A round-trip ticket is $15 and reservations may be made in person or by calling 1-800-BY-FERRY.

NCDOT’s Ferry Division personnel will decide whether to extend weekend service later Friday afternoon, according to a release.

An evening round trip on the Ocracoke-Swan Quarter vehicle ferry has been added Friday, departing at 7 p.m. with a return trip from Swan Quarter at 10:30 p.m., according to a DOT release.

For a full schedule, visit the N.C. Ferry Division’s webpage.

Stepping through the wrought-iron gate flanked by the First Baptist Church of Beaufort and Ann Street United Methodist Church, the Old Burying Ground offers a quiet respite from bustling Front Street in Beaufort, North Carolina’s third oldest town.

The low-hanging branches of gnarled live oaks tangle above most of the 300-year-old cemetery on the 400 block of Ann Street, casting shadows on the worn dirt paths that meander between the seemingly organized fenced-in family plots next to simple headstones wedged like crooked teeth between the ornate, weathered monuments, obelisks and statues.

There’s an area that appears to be an open space near the corner of Craven and Broad streets under a tree that Carteret County native Bill Lewis has determined is the unmarked grave of 13 of his ancestors, including Thomas Lewis Sr., born 1740 and died 1815.

A lifelong historian and genealogist of the Lewis family, Bill recently retired from the defense industry and splits his time between Morehead City and Virginia.

He told Coastal Review during a telephone interview that he has always known where his family was buried in the centuries-old graveyard. The location has been part of his family’s oral history for generations. 

He decided about three years ago, after his father and aunt died within days of each other, to expand on the family history research he inherited from them, and prove to some skeptics that his ancestors were in those unmarked graves. 

The Old Burying Ground

Beaufort, first known as Fishtown, was established in 1709 and the street plans for the town that were designed in 1713, and are still in use. Around 1724, the town deeded the lot to the wardens of St. John’s Parish, the first Anglican church in Beaufort, for the church and, presumably, a cemetery. Though speculation is that the land was used as a graveyard before 1724, documents state.

“The Old Burying Ground grew up around the building used for sessions of the Court and for reading the service of the Anglican Church in St. John’s Parish,” according to the Beaufort Historical Association, which manages the graveyard.

The property was transferred to the town in 1731 when an adjacent lot was added but was full by 1828. The graveyard was enlarged in 1851, 1855 and again in 1894 by the Baptist and Methodist churches that have stood on either side of the graveyard’s Ann Street gate since the mid-1800s. The Methodist congregation’s first building erected in 1820 now houses Purvis Chapel AME Zion Church, on the corner of the Old Burying Ground at Craven and Broad streets, according to the nomination form. 

The graveyard has around 500 marked graves, with about half from before and during the Civil War, which took place between 1861 an1865, 150 between 1865 and 1900, then a handful of 20^th century markers.

“The whole area with its lichen-encrusted stones shaded by great trees is pervaded by an atmosphere of age, peace, and pleasant melancholia that makes it one of the most memorable spots in one of North Carolina’s most picturesque communities,” reads the National Register of Historic Places nomination form submitted in 1974 for the nearly 3-acre graveyard. “The range of tombstone design is quite remarkable, from the primitive grace of the simple cypress slabs to the sober functionalism of the long brick grave covers to the ornate memorials of the Victorian period.”

Visitors can take self-guided tours using a map provided by the Beaufort Historical Association, the nonprofit that manages the graveyard, to see where the girl is buried in the barrel of rum, the monument topped with a cannon for Capt. Otway Burns, who was an American privateer during the War of 1812, the soldier from the British Navy who was buried standing up in full uniform facing England, the grave of a romance rekindled after decades of separation because her father didn’t approve, or the northwest corner, which is the oldest part of the cemetery. 

“The corner looks empty, however a 1992 archeological survey confirmed that there are many graves in this area. It is probable that some of the unmarked graves contain victims of the Indian wars whose skulls were cleft with tomahawks of hostile Coree and Neusiok Indians. It is recorded that in September, 1711 the area had ‘been depopulated by the late Indian War and Massacre,” according to the association. 

The Lewis ancestors

The Old Burying Ground holds “the history of our family roots, where Thomas Lewis, an often-overlooked progenitor, is buried alongside David Lewis and his wife. My siblings and I were captivated by our grandfather Raymond and father’s tales there. The cemetery was our playground, sparking imaginations with stories about our ancestors, including whimsical claims that Thomas was born a pirate and one of the first settlers in Carteret County,” Bill Lewis notes in his family research.

Bill is a native of the Promise Land, which is a neighborhood from 10^th  to 15th streets on the sound side of Morehead City, and a graduate of West Carteret High School. The Promise Land, Harkers Island and Bogue Banks were settled in the late 1800s and early 1900s by Cape Bankers, pronounced Ca’e Bankers, when these fishing and whaling families moved to the mainland after their settlements on Shackleford Banks experienced a series of devastating storms.

In his research, Bill introduces himself as “a proud descendant of Ca’e Banker and Waterman Thomas Lewis Sr. (1740 – 1815),” and he draws inspiration from his late father, Jerry Thomas Lewis (1937 – 2023), “a steadfast Promise Lander and beacon of strength” and his mother, Edna Faye Garner (1938 – 2013), who “came from a determined Salter Pather squatter family.”

His late father was in the military and traveled extensively, but every time they were home in Carteret County, they would visit the cemetery to put flowers on the unmarked graves. “He would say, I want you and your brother and sister to go out here in this graveyard and find Thomas Lewis Sr. Well, my dad new there was no headstones,” he told Coastal Review.

“We embarked on an exhilarating adventure through time as my father took us to a mysterious graveyard, where history whispered through the wind. He paused by an ancient oak tree, excitement gleaming in his eyes, and pointed to an elongated grave. ‘Can you believe this? This is the resting place of your great-great-great-great-grandfather, a son of a pirate!’ His enthusiasm was contagious,” Bill continues. “We were reminded of our family’s rich heritage in Carteret County, where the earliest Lewises settled between 1635 and 1730, helping to shape the community during its formative years.”

Bill said during the phone call that he pored over documents, records and other resources to corroborate the family lore. Once he had substantial proof, he approached the town with the idea to have a headstone installed marking his family gravesite. 

The Carteret County Historical Society oversees the History Museum of Carteret County, where Bill volunteers, and has been asking for donations to purchase and install the proposed 30-inch by 78-inch ledger, which, in this case, is a piece of stone about the size of an interior door the length of a grave, and the 13 footstones expected to be 8 inches by 4 inches.

He told Coastal Review Wednesday that, so far, they had raised around $1,700 and needed close to $5,000 for the simple marker they have designed, and are still taking donations. Call the society at 252-247-7533 for information.

Town of Beaufort Planning and Inspections Director Kyle Garner said in an interview Thursday that he has been working with Bill Lewis for the last year on the proposed headstone.

Bill “has done extensive research,” Garner said, “it’s amazing what he has been able to find.”

Garner added that the graves could have been marked at one time, but the marker could have been wooden and is no longer there. 

Because the cemetery is listed on the National Register of Historic Places, Garner and Bill Lewis have been consulting Melissa Timo, the historic cemetery specialist at the Office of State Archaeology, to make sure the proposed marker wouldn’t degrade the cemetery. 

Timo explained to Coastal Review that the state has limited information on the cemetery and “I don’t believe that the cemetery has been 100% surveyed archaeologically” by ground penetrating radar or similar. 

“There was a limited archaeological survey done in 1991 where they opened shallow trenches in what appeared to be ‘open areas’ in the north-central part of the cemetery,” Timo continued. “No surprise, their work reveal that the area wasn’t free from graves at all. There were dozens of unmarked graves and potential graves,” but the digging was just deep enough to expose the tops of grave shafts and not into the burials or human remains themselves.

Timo said that while this survey doesn’t appear to line up where the Lewis ancestors are, “it is very telling for the possibilities in the section he’s concerned about. I tell people that what’s on the surface in a historic cemetery rarely, rarely matches what’s underground,” Timo explained. “There are probably a great deal more people in that cemetery than we expect. Additionally, since this is an urban cemetery, popular but hemmed in on all sides, we might expect people to be much more tightly aligned than a rural cemetery with plenty of room.”

Beaufort Historical Association Executive Director Michael Tahaney said in an interview that the Beaufort Historic Site is looking forward to including this newly publicized Lewis family heritage and the new headstones on tours of Beaufort’s Old Burying Ground. 

“The watermen and whalers were invaluable to the formation of coastal village settlements that grew into the Carteret County towns of today. I’ve spoken with several of our long-term docent guides who have very little previous knowledge of these unmarked graves. The headstones will be a testament to the family’s legacy,” he said.

Serving Southerners true pound cake is a serious culinary dare.

This is not just dessert; it’s a traditional masterpiece. Get it wrong, and you’ll be met with the polite-but-deadly judgment: “Well now, isn’t that interesting.”

Here’s the secret, though: Switching in mock pound cake is what many Southerners do and without a lick of shame. Yes, the true version is the holy grail, tangled up in family history and strong opinions. But the substitute is a welcome compromise that could save you from anxiously staring down the oven, praying for success.

In fact, experts have weighed in: N.C. State Fair baking judges and blue-ribbon winners argue that mock pound cake is every bit as traditional, challenging and delicious as its “true” counterpart.

“It’s only a sin when someone tries to call it a true pound cake,” says longtime judge David Schoening.

How it all started

True pound cake’s pedigree certainly contributes to its exalted status. The first printed recipe, dating to 1747, immediately established the cake’s reputation as a demanding bake. It called for a pound of butter, a pound of flour, a pound of sugar and 12 eggs (six of the whites whipped separately).

The baker’s challenge was to beat the ingredients literally by hand, in a single direction, or with a wooden spoon for a full, excruciating hour before baking the cake in a “quick” oven — a temperature often judged simply by how long the cook could hold a hand inside.

Bakers initially depended on the air they painstakingly beat into pound cake batter to achieve rise — no doubt with fingers crossed while the dessert baked. Exactly when the term “mock” pound cake emerged down South is unclear, but a turning point came around 1881.

In her influential book, “What Miss Fisher Knows About Old Southern Cooking,” one of the first published African American chefs, Abby Fisher of South Carolina, offered pound cake recipes calling for “the best yeast powder.” This addition was surely a relief, finally giving bakers formal permission to use a backup leavener.

Around the same time, commercial baking powder became widely available. Pound cake was finally approachable, and it seemed clear what qualified as mock pound cake — or was it?

Exactly what is true mock pound cake?

The debate over the definition of mock pound cake continues to this day. Take Ivy Hilliard of Wilmington, for instance. She won the 2024 N.C. State Fair blue ribbon for true pound cake, yet she grew up on both versions, recipes she believes date back generations within her family.

The story of her pound cake lineage begins with her maternal grandmother, Maggie Massey, whose family settled in North Carolina in the 1740s. Massey baked the finest mock and true cakes (her recipe is the one that secured Hilliard’s 2024 win). Later, Ivy’s mother, Polly Hilliard, was known for her mock pound cake, especially a scrumptious chocolate adaptation.

Flavor variation is one of the licenses granted to mock pound cake bakers. While true pound cake is typically limited to one flavoring — caraway seeds in that first printed recipe, later rose water, vanilla or lemon — mock pound cake has virtually no limits. N.C. State Fair entries have included praline, coconut lemon and Hilliard’s own margarita pound cake made with tequila.

What qualifies as mock pound cake varies as much as the flavors. State fair guidelines specify that true pound cake contains only butter (or margarine, which traditionalists reject), sugar, eggs and flour. “Mock pound cake can include baking powder, baking soda and milk but cannot include boxed cake mix,” the rules state.

Interestingly, Hilliard, like her mother, uses vegetable oil and milk but skips the leavener entirely. Her mock pound cake relies on beating the eggs well for lift — a method that is hardly a guarantee or shortcut.

“It’s like a three-hour process,” Hilliard says of preparing her mother’s mock pound cake. First, all ingredients must be brought to room temperature, and “you’ve always got to sift the flour. You can’t skip it,” she insists. The cake, like the true version, bakes for more than an hour with no peeking allowed.

The payoff is worth the effort, Hilliard says: “When it was my birthday, I would always ask for the mock pound.”

Not as easy as you think

Despite the work involved with preparing mock pound cake, the category draws significantly more fair entries than the true pound cake class — 42 competitors versus 18 in 2025. State fair exhibit manager Debbie O’Brien confirms the conventional wisdom: “That’s the way usually everyone goes because it’s easier.”

Like Hilliard, the 2025 N.C. State Fair mock pound cake champion, Willie Pope of Raleigh, takes extra time, shunning leavener, because that’s how his mother made mock pound cake. He has evaluated recipes with and without leaveners but noticed slight difference in the final taste or texture. So, he continues to “just beat the stew out of the egg whites,” a method that finally earned him his first blue ribbon after about 15 years of entering the competition.

For Pope, it all comes down to nostalgia: “It goes back to what you grew up with,” he says. “This recipe that we always make is one that my mother used to make…And part of her joking was always that for us to get an inheritance, somebody had had to win the state fair contest.”

The final determination of which is better, true or mock pound cake, comes down to personal taste. Hilliard thinks mock versions are moist and velvety inside and out thanks to additions like milk, sour cream or even cream cheese. True pound cake, she says, serves an irresistible golden, crackly crust.

Pope and his family have always loved mock pound cake so much that he’s never bothered with a side-by-side comparison to see if their secret recipe stands up to the true version.

Ultimately, the discussion is less about ingredients and more about what’s in a cook’s heart. As Schoening says, “Mock pound cakes are a true Southern tradition because they’re all about love.”

Maggie Massey’s Mock Pound Cake

Crisco shortening

Flour

2 sticks of butter, at room temperature

3 cups sugar

½ cup Crisco oil

1 cup whole milk

6 eggs

3 cups sifted, all-purpose Red Band flour and ½ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon lemon flavoring (see cook’s note)

Cook’s note: This is Ivy Hilliard grandmother’s original recipe. Hilliard’s mother’s chocolate version originally incorporated a full can of Hersey’s Chocolate Syrup. When the company stopped making the canned syrup, the family made their own syrup from scratch and added 14 ounces to this recipe at the end of the creaming process. To make the syrup, blend 1 cup of sugar, 1 cup of cocoa and 1½ cups water and a dash of vanilla extract in a saucepot. Bring the mixture to a boil and then let it simmer for about 15 minutes. “And you will have the best chocolate syrup you’ve ever eaten,” Hilliard says.

Cake procedure: Grease a Bundt plan well with Crisco shortening and then dust the pan with flour. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 300 degrees.

Cream the butter. Add the sugar and cream well. Add the Crisco oil and cream well. Add the milk and cream well (if using chocolate syrup, add here and cream well). The mixture should be fluffy. Alternately add flour and eggs, beating well after each addition. Add lemon flavor and mix well.

Bake for 1½ hours. Do not open the oven door until the cake has been cooking at least 1 hour or the cake may fall. Test near center. If cake is done, tester will come out clean.

Source: Ivy Hilliard

True Pound Cake

Lard

Sifted flour

2 cups butter, at room temperature

3½ cups sugar

10 large eggs, at room temperature

4 cups sifted all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Cook’s note: This is Hilliard’s grandmother’s recipe, the one that helped Hilliard win the N.C. State Fair pound cake blue ribbon in 2024. Hilliard says, “This cake is too large for a standard Bundt pan. Do not fill the pan closer than 2 inches from the top. If you have excess batter due to a smaller cake pan use excess batter for an extra loaf cake.”

Cake procedure: Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease a Bundt pan with lard and then dust the pan with sifted flour.

Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Alternately add eggs and flour, beating on low speed after every addition to ensure ingredients are well blended. Add vanilla extract last.

Pour the batter in the prepared pan and bake for 1 hour and 20 minutes. Note: Bake times can vary due to ovens. Check at 1 hour and 15 minutes to monitor doneness. You will need a long cake tester to test doneness as this is a deep cake. If test comes out clean, cake is done. When you remove the cake from oven, let the cake sit for 10 minutes in the pan before you turn it out.

Source: Ivy Hilliard

Ocracoke Preservation Society is readying for its first historic home tour since before Hurricane Dorian hit the region in 2019.

Set for 2 to 4 p.m. Friday, Nov. 28, tickets are $50 each and can be purchased online.

The tour features four homes along Lighthouse Road within the nationally recognized Ocracoke Historic District and wraps up at 4:30 p.m. with a first look at the renovation of the Island Inn. Built in 1901, the building has been an Odd Fellow’s Lodge, a school, Navy officer’s club, a coffee shop and more. Ocracoke Preservation Society purchased the building and is renovating the structure to serve as a community, education and visitors center.

Holiday lighting of the Commons, the public garden space next to the Inn, is at 5:30 p.m., followed at 6 p.m. by a boat parade sponsored by the Fish House. Spectators can view the parade from anywhere on Silver Lake Harbor.

The night will close with an Ocrafolk Opry Concert with music provided by island residents at Ocracoke Alive’s Deepwater Theater at 8 p.m.

“The home tour is an incredible opportunity to step back in time and experience the design and details of historic structures on the island from folks so intimately involved,” the society’s Administrator Warner Passanisi said in a release. “This event is a unique opportunity for visitors to experience Ocracoke inside and out.”

The Ocracoke Preservation Society was founded in 1983 and has maintained since 1992 a museum in the David Williams House built around 1900.

Hear Native Americans throughout North Carolina share their memories and experiences during an upcoming virtual program hosted by the State Archives of North Carolina.

In celebration of American Indian Heritage Month, the State Archives is offering for its Lunch and Learn program “Listening to our Elders: the American Indian Heritage Commission Oral History Project.”

The event is set to be held noon-1 p.m. Nov. 5.

The American Indian Heritage Commission, in collaboration with the State Archives, in December 2022 began gathering the living memory and experiences of Native Americans throughout the state.

The presentation will include what the project’s staff learned from the elders with what they took from the process, how to set up an oral history project, and conduct interviews.

Register in advance at https://www.zoomgov.com/webinar/register/WN_aA9ml57tQzSPK9VM5idAUw.

For more information, contact Danielle Shirilla at dani.shirilla@dncr.nc.gov or by phone at 919-814-6881.

The North Carolina Indian Heritage Commission advises and assists the North Carolina Natural and Cultural Resources secretary in the preservation, interpretation, and promotion of Native history, arts, customs, and culture.

Remember that set of canisters and accouterments your mom or grandma cherished? The one that looked like a gnome mushroom village exploded all over the kitchen?

People love — or hate — toadstools with a passion.

Toadstools are found pretty much worldwide, and they are important parts of any ecosystem. Mushrooms and toadstools are both fungal fruiting bodies, and there is technically no scientific difference between them. People tend to refer to safely edible varieties as mushrooms, while the ones that can send you on a trip to the hospital — or on a trip to meet your maker — as toadstools.

The distinction is purely in how the fungi are perceived.

How do you tell which is which? Best advice: Unless you are with an expert who knows for sure, or you have an imminently painful death wish, don’t try any wild ones — mushrooms or toadstools.

Most of us are somewhat familiar with toadstools. They pop up, seemingly overnight, here, there and everywhere. But why? Mostly because fungi don’t reproduce by seeds. They reproduce by spores.

Once a toadstool has reached maturity, it releases tiny — often microscopic — spores, and the wind carries them to a new spot. There, spores wait patiently, sometimes for years, until the right conditions occur for them to sprout. This is why we often see them after a rainy spell, or after a warming period.

Those spores, in turn, send out microscopically fine threads, root-like filaments, which then form clumps called mycelia.

Mycelia break down and decompose organic matter such as leaves, branches, logs or other natural substances in order to return nutrients to the soil. Instead of hating on those toadstools in your yard, think about how beneficial they are. Rather than being a blight, toadstools are actually an indicator of a thriving ecosystem.

Of course, there are often pets and kids to consider, and some fungi dissolve into slimy, stinky messes. Ever smelled a stinkhorn? Think rotting meat, Pepe Le Pew chasing his cat girlfriend, or raw sewage. Why, you ask?

Stinkhorns, while inarguably the stinkiest of stinky toadstools, attract flies by means of a foul-smelling slime. The flies then disperse the sticky, stinky, stinkhorn spores. Pretty clever, huh? If you’ve ever walked the trail at Fort Macon, you’ve likely come across these, whether you realized what it was or just figured some critter had crawled off into the scrub and died.

Related to earthstars and puffballs, stinkhorns usually start out as a white, egg-like toadstools before some of them morph into a salmon- or orange-colored Halloween decoration. Stinkhorns can be found in a range of sizes, shapes and colors, and they have the most interesting names.

Part of the scientifically called Phallaceae family — and yes, that’s exactly what some of them look like — this could be where people get the ideas for monsters and aliens. Devil’s fingers, or Clathrus archeri, look like black-tipped orange fingers erupting from the ground. Veiled lady, or Phallus indusiatus, looks like a ghostly bride. It’s no wonder toadstools get a bad rap.

Have you ever seen a fairy ring? People used to think if you stepped inside one, the fairies would take you. Or they’d make you dance until you dropped dead. Or they’d transport you to Faerie, and you’d never get back home.

Sadly, the real reason for fairy rings is much less interesting, although still magical in its own way. The rings form because of high concentrations of nitrogen, or from decaying tree roots or other organic material. Growth begins in the center, such as around a rotted tree stump, or even where a tree used to be, and spreads outward, giving rise to the familiar circle.

Toadstools are an important food source for a variety of critters. Snails, slugs, squirrels, deer, rodents, turtles, and insects. Some critters even develop a tolerance for poisons present in the toadstools, poisons that would kill humans.

Toadstools have been used for thousands of years medicinally, as dyes, as poisons. For instance, fly agaric, or Amanita muscaria, with its iconic red cap and white polka dots, one of the most easily recognizable toadstools worldwide, has been used for centuries to kill flies. Not sure of the exact process, but basically people would sprinkle fly agaric in milk. Living on a farm with its attendant livestock and ensuing manure, or in a town with less-than-desirable trash and sewage practices, one can see where fly agaric would be highly valued.

Mushrooms have been adding culinary joy — for those who like them — to meals for probably those same thousands of years. While some people don’t like the taste or texture, mushrooms have countless uses in addition to food. Medicines, tinctures, flavoring, even mycoremediation, a fancy word for removing or degrading contaminants from or in the environment.

Toadstool names are as intriguing as the actual toadstools: ink caps, fly agaric, Indian pipes. Same is true for mushrooms: morels, bolete, lion’s mane.

While some mushrooms, morels or lion’s mane or chicken of the woods can be foraged naturally, above all, use caution and know what you’re doing. Interesting side note: when the American chestnuts were dying out, morels, or Morchella esculenta, could be picked up by the wagonloads. Think buckboard, not RadioFlyer. Sensing the tree’s imminent demise, the morels would produce mushrooms in abundance to produce spores to ensure the species’ survival.

Different mushrooms grow best around different trees and can often be located by finding the right trees or habitats.

Look up, not down! Morels like moist woodlands and can often be found around decaying elm, ash sycamore, or even old apple trees. Lion’s mane, or Hericium erinaceus, grows on hardwoods, such as oak and maple. Chicken of the woods, or Laetiporus sulphureus, grows on hardwoods, both living and dead.

If you like to eat mushrooms, and prefer to use trusted sources other than stores — or death-defying guesstimating — shoutout to Jamie’s Mushroom Farm in Havelock.

Jamie grows amazing mushrooms, and it’s an infinitely interesting process. You can get them fresh or dehydrated, and they are scrumptious!

It’s the day after Halloween. What are you going to do with all those pumpkins on your porch? Blow them up using Civil War technology, of course, with the staff of Brunswick Town and Fort Anderson historic site in Winnabow.

The Great Pumpkin Blowout scheduled for 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday, Nov. 1, is the “unique experience” of detonating a pumpkin with the same technology used to launch Civil War-era torpedoes, according to organizers.

Visitors will be able to observe different types of torpedoes from the time period and learn the technology behind black powder and the torpedo itself.

Load up those jack-o’-lanterns and be prepared to pay $10 to detonate each pumpkin. Proceeds supports educational programming at the site. Pumpkins with minimal carving offer the best explosions, but all types will work, staff said.

Admission to the site and watching the fun is free.

The Brunswick Town and Fort Anderson State Historic Site was a major pre-Revolutionary port on the Cape Fear River, but was abandoned and burned during the American Revolution. During the Civil War, Fort Anderson was built on top of the old village site, and served as part of the Cape Fear River the Confederacy fell, according to North Carolina Historic Sites, a division of the N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

Editor’s note: The following is from historian David Cecelski’s “Working Lives: Photographs from Eastern North Carolina, 1937 to 1947.” The Carteret County native introduced the nearly 20-part photo-essay series earlier this year on his website, explaining at the time that the images he selected from the N.C. Department of Conservation and Development Collection were taken in the late 1930s into the early 1950s of the state’s farms, industries, and working people.

This is a photograph of Ms. Neva Adams at work in the stitching room at the Morehead City Garment Co. in Morehead City, 1942.

Chartered in the fall of 1938, the “Shirt Factory” was first located on the second floor of a brick building a block from Bogue Sound. At the time, the Great Depression still lingered. Hoping to attract a textile company, the town’s leaders had invested in the space, the machinery, and a training program for workers.

By the time of this photograph, the company, which was started by a couple from Pennsylvania, had moved to a new building across the railroad tracks. The original building was later home to the Webb Memorial Library in downtown Morehead City.

In a way, the company’s arrival in town was an historic event. The work was hard, the hours long and, in its early years, workers were rather scandalously not even paid the legal minimum wage.

Nonetheless, a job at the Shirt Factory offered a singular opportunity for hundreds of women just before, during, and after World War II. For many, it was their first chance to do what used to be called “public work,” a catch-all phrase for any job not in the home or on the farm.

They came from near and far to the Shirt Factory. Scores of women commuted in the back of farm trucks.

Others walked from the Promise Land, the neighborhood of largely fishing families that bordered the Shirt Factory.

Some women even caught rides on the school bus from Salter Path, a fishing village all the way out on Bogue Banks.

Neva Adams, in this photo, resided in Morehead City, probably in the Promise Land. She was already a grandmother when she started working at the Shirt Factory, but she had lost her husband just before the war and was on her own.

For women like her, the Shirt Factory often seemed a godsend. To a large part, that was because of the income, of course.

But over the years, when I have been talking to women who worked at the Shirt Factory back in those days, they have often told me how much it meant to them to be part of a community of women who laughed a lot, shared stories, and supported one another.

Being with those women, they would say, was a balm for grief and loneliness and all the hurts that happen in life.

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This is Ella Pittman, another of the Morehead City Garment Co.’s machine operators, at work in the stitching room in 1942.

Ms. Pittman was just the kind of woman that went to work at the Shirt Factory during the Second World War.

Born on Cedar Island in 1894, she had grown up in that remotest corner of the North Carolina coast long before bridges connected the local villages to the mainland.

Her father, Francis Marion Goodwin, was a fisherman all his life. A passel of Ms. Ella’s brothers, nephews, and cousins worked on the water as well– many of them on menhaden fishing boats.

Old timers still remember her brother, Capt. Leroy Goodwin, who was killed when a tugboat collided with his menhaden boat, the Barnegat, in 1960.

By the time that Ms. Pittman went to work at the Shirt Factory, she had come a long way in her life.

As a girl and young woman on Cedar Island, she had cooked on a wood stove or over a hearth. She had done laundry in a tin wash pot, salted barrels of fish every autumn, and had been unacquainted with electricity and indoor plumbing.

In all likelihood, she grew up helping her mother in a garden resplendent in collard greens, shallots, and sweet potatoes.

She was quite likely already well acquainted with needle and twine before coming to the Shirt Factory. Many a Cedar Island home had two hooks in the family’s kitchen walls, like the ones you might hang a hammock from, but they were put there for stitching fishing nets.

That way the women in the family could work on the family’s fishing nets In between their kitchen chores.

As a young woman, Ms. Ella married Luther Pittman, a Cedar Island fisherman. Like so many other Down East families in that day, they soon left their island home and moved into Beaufort.

When young Ella and Luther moved into town, they settled in Lennoxville, a community largely of fishing families that was actually a few miles east of Beaufort’s town limits.

Many years later, when Ella Pittman went to work at the Shirt Factory, she was probably in her 50s.

She was a mother of four, and she was likely the first woman in her extended family to do “public work” unless one of her daughters or nieces had gotten a wartime job at the Naval Section Base in Morehead City or at the big Marine Corps installation that was being built near Havelock.

The hours and working conditions at the Shirt Factory would seem grueling to many of us today.

However — and while I hate to make broad generalizations, I’m going to do it here anyway — a woman that grew up on Cedar Island in the early 1900s was used to hard work and long hours.

Even so, combining a daily shift at the Shirt Factory with a housewife’s duties could not have been easy.

Working at the Shirt Factory also posed challenges for many of those women that we might not consider today.

When I was younger, for instance, I often spoke with local women, including some of the women in my own family, who had gone from a fishing or farm life to a job at a factory or other public work during World War II.

For some, and especially older women workers, it took some getting used to, and some never did get used to it and did not last long.

Though accustomed to hard work, many said that it was a whole other thing to work by the clock, to be indoors all day, to do repetitive tasks day after day, and to have a boss with the power to tell them what to do, when to do it, when they could take breaks, and all the rest.

By all accounts, the Shirt Factory had a somewhat tumultuous first year.

Convicted on 25 counts of violating the Fair Labor Standards Act of 1938, including a failure to pay the minimum wage of 25 cents an hour, the company closed temporarily in May 1939. I am not sure how long the factory was idle, but the closure left more than 300 workers without a paycheck for a time.

Later in the 1940s, the company was also the scene of a bitter union drive.

During the union drive, the National Labor Relations Board ruled that the company’s owners had violated the National Labor Relations Act by firing pro-union activists and intimidating workers prior to the union election. A copy of the ruling is online.

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During the Second World War, a considerable part of the company’s production was for the United States Government, including in 1941, a $25,000 contract for military-issue khaki shirts, according to a March 15, 1914, report in the Asheville Times.

-4-

Here we get a more expansive view of the women in the company’s stitching room.

In my younger days, I had several elderly cousins and a great-uncle who had retired from long careers at the Shirt Factory.

I remember that when my cousins, all women, reminisced about their days at the Shirt Factory, they talked mainly about their friends there. They spoke of the feeling of sisterhood at the plant.

Long after they retired, they remained close to those women.

I did not get as much chance to be around my great-uncle Leo Simpson, and I don’t remember him speaking of the Shirt Factory, though he must have. He was married to my grandmother’s sister, Hilda.

However, I know that Great-Uncle Leo began working at the Shirt Factory in the late 1930s, soon after it first opened. For most of his career, he was the head of the factory’s cutting room.

My wonderful cousin Doug, one of Leo and Hilda’s sons, believes that his father likely met the company’s owners while he was helping to build the company’s new factory building in 1939 or ’40.

Doug was around the Shirt Factory from the time he was a small child. And when he got a little older, he had summer jobs there, before he went off and became a distinguished college professor and a leading authority on the great American educational philosopher John Dewey.

When I talked with Doug the other day, he recalled the company’s owners, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, as being “kind, gracious people.”

He told me that Mrs. Jackson worked alongside her husband at the factory. She was, he said, a tall, imposing woman who always dressed very nicely.

Cousin Doug was not around her husband as much, but he did remember Mr. Jackson’s fierce anti-unionism.

On the other hand, he also recalled Mr. Jackson’s support for racial integration and his commitment to employing African Americans throughout the Shirt Factory. Such a policy was very out of keeping with the region’s other textile plants, and it was apparently controversial in Morehead City when first implemented at the Shirt Factory.

Judging from these photographs, the Shirt Factory had not yet opened its stitching room’s doors to Black women in 1942.

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In this last photograph from the Shirt Factory’s stitching room, we meet an 18-year-old machine operator named Annie Grace Benton, about whom I also did a bit of research on her background.

I discovered that, in a way, young Ms. Benton represented another kind of woman that was drawn to wartime jobs such as those at the Shirt Factory.

According to my research, she had grown up on a farm in Seven Springs, a rural hamlet 90 miles west of Morehead City.

She had evidently just left home for the first time.

For many young women such as her, a job at the Shirt Factory meant a chance to help their families. Many a time, their wages might even have helped keep their family’s farm afloat or enabled a younger brother or sister to go to college.

For many of the young women, the Shirt Factory and other public jobs were also an opportunity to put the Great Depression behind them and to free themselves from the provincialism of farm life, and most especially from the limited roles for women that had historically existed in the farming communities of eastern North Carolina.

Military boom towns such as Morehead City were particularly exciting during World War II. The town was bustling with a Naval section base that operated there, and Army patrols were in and out constantly.

A busy USO and other local businesses catered to servicemen and women on leave from the many military installations, army outposts, and airfields that were being built on that part of the North Carolina coast in the early part of the war.

The largest were the Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station, originally Cunningham Field, in Havelock and Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune in Jacksonville.

Boardinghouses had sprung up all over Morehead City to cater to military wives and girlfriends, as well as to young farm women like Annie Grace Benton who were away from home for the first time.

Wherever Ms. Benton lived in Morehead City, probably in a boardinghouse, she was also around legions of other young women who had moved from other parts of the country to fill jobs at Cherry Point.

Those women were no ordinary lot either. At Cherry Point, they ranged from aircraft painters to flight instructors, jobs for which women, because so many men were overseas, were welcome for the first time.

Not only did many farm women, including, presumably Ms. Benton, welcome the financial independence offered by that kind of “public work,” but many also relished the liberty of being someplace where everyone did not know them, and the excitement of being liberated, however briefly, from the old mores — economic, social, and sexual — that governed women’s lives back home.

-End-

Love fossils? Then there’s a day just for you.

Join in a celebration of National Fossil Day Saturday for games, prizes and music at the Aurora Fossil Museum and Fossil Park.

The free event is scheduled for 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. at the museum at 400 Main St.

The Aurora Fossil Museum is open 9:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday until Nov. 30. The museum will be closed on Nov. 27, Thanksgiving Day.

Days and hours of operation are the same for the museum’s fossil park and fossil pits.

Saturday marks the 129th anniversary of one of the most daring ocean rescues in the history of the U.S. Life-Saving Service, the predecessor to today’s Coast Guard.

On Oct. 11, 1896, during hurricane conditions and in the darkness of the night, Keeper Richard Etheridge and the all-Black surfmen crew he commanded at the Pea Island Life-Saving Station — Benjamin Bowser, Dorman Pugh, Theodore Meekins, Lewis Wescott, Stanley Wise and William Irving — saved all onboard the shipwrecked E.S. Newman.

Among the survivors were the captain, his wife and 3-year-old son, and six others.

At the time of the rescue, its depiction was limited to just a short paragraph in some news sources. There was no mention of an all-Black crew having performed the rescue. While now many more are aware of the heroic rescue, the story is still not widely known. Today is a special time to remember it, and to think about the history the Pea Island station represents.

Before selected to take command of the Pea Island station in January 1880, Etheridge had served as the lowest-ranked surfmen at a neighboring station. After he assumed command, and throughout the period the station was active, it was staffed primarily with Black commanders and all-Black surfmen crews, long after Etheridge’s death in May 1900.

In 1949 the Pea Island station was decommissioned, but it had been deactivated a couple of years earlier. In March 1947, my father, Herbert M. Collins, the last left in charge, locked the station’s doors for the last time and turned in the keys to his superiors.

Perhaps just as remarkable as an “all-Black” surfmen crew working on the North Carolina coast decades ago is that Etheridge, the first Black or African American to command the Pea Island station, grew up enslaved. Before being selected, he had also served with the 36th Regiment of U.S. Colored Troops during the Civil War, helping the Union to free thousands who were once enslaved.

The family history of many who served at the Pea Island, like that of my own father, is also tied to the story of the enslaved. Likewise, the family history of many who served at Pea Island, like my father and other family members who served there, is also tied to the Native American, Algonquian-speaking tribes who once lived along the coast. In fact, although most known for being the first Black or African American to command the station, it is noteworthy that in a 1932 Coast Guard magazine article written by Rodney J. Benson and currently available online, Etheridge was described as being “part Indian.”

The 1932 article asserts the “Pea Island station never had a pure strain negro keeper, white or Indian blood having blended with the African strain.” The article is one of, if not the earliest written mention, as it describes, of “checkerboard-ed” crews, a term used to identify stations with both white and Black crewmembers. It is also reflective of a period when people who served at lifesaving stations along the North Carolina coast were categorized racially in one of two ways, either being white or Black, to determine their status and rights, no matter their racial mix.

The 100-year delay the Gold Lifesaving Medal was finally awarded to the Pea Island crew is a reminder of the challenges and obstacles men who were known as being “Black” in U.S. Life-Saving stations and the early Coast Guard faced. Yet, as the unjustified delay teaches, still many bravely and honorably served.

Etheridge’s selection as keeper in January 1880 made him, as is described on the Coast Guard webpage, “the first African American station keeper in the service and first minority member of any kind to command a U.S. base of operations.” Likewise, at the time of my father’s death in 2010, he was described in a Coast Guard press release as a “Coast Guard Legend,” and especially “in light of the challenges that African Americans faced” during the era he served.

After Etheridge’s selection, and until my father locked the doors for the last time, the Pea Island station was known as being one of the best on the coast.

Perhaps as remarkable as the heroic rescue of the shipwrecked E.S Newman, is the incredible 67-year period the Pea Island station was staffed primarily with Black commanders and crews, especially given the political and social climate at the time. These men faced incredible obstacles. This included serving during the Wilmington, North Carolina massacre and the Jim Crow era in the South.

Having researched and studied the history of the Pea Island station for well over 10 years now, when speaking of it I say that today I understand the smile on my father’s face as he opened the doors of Pea Island Cookhouse Museum to the public for the first time. Likewise, today I better understand the tears William Charles Bowser, his cousin, and who had served at the station before him, displayed when he first learned the Coast Guard’s highest honor, the Gold Lifesaving Medal, would be awarded to Etheridge and his crew.

The anniversary of the Oct. 11, 1896, rescue of nine onboard the shipwrecked schooner, the E.S. Newman, is an important reminder of this history. It is also important to remember the brave men at Pea Island are credited with performing some 600 rescues.

The Pea Island Cookhouse Museum on Roanoke Island is dedicated to honoring their service and legacy. Presently the museum is open for group tours by appointment only. To make an appointment for a group visit, contact the Pea Island Preservation Society, Inc., otherwise known as PIPSI, by email at: friends@peaislandpreservationsociety.com

Editor’s note: The following is from historian David Cecelski’s “Working Lives: Photographs from Eastern North Carolina, 1937 to 1947.” He introduced the nearly 20-part photo-essay series in early August, explaining at the time that the images he selected from the North Carolina Department of Conservation and Development Collection were taken between 1937 and 1951 of the state’s farms, industries, and working people. More of the series can be found on his website.

Like all the photographs in this “Working Lives” series, these next few photographs are also from the N.C. Department of Conservation and Development Collection at the State Archives.

However, this set of photographs is more personal for me than most of the other photographs that I have featured here: they were taken at my great-uncle George Ball and his brother Raymond Ball’s potato farm in Harlowe.

Uncle George, as my mother called him, was married to my grandfather’s sister Lizette. Their farm was on one side of the Harlowe Canal, while my grandfather and grandmother’s farm was on the other.

These photographs were taken in November 1942. In this first one, Mr. Raymond is standing on the left in front of a wall of bushel baskets. This is evidently the farm’s curing barn and the baskets are full of sweet potatoes.

According to the photographer’s notes, the other individual is J.Y. Lassiter, who I believe was a county farm agent.

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Here we see two young African American men harvesting sweet potatoes at the Ball brothers’ farm in Harlowe, November 1942.

Old timers have told me that 300 to 350 men, women, and children worked for the Ball brothers at harvest time back in those days.

Most were local people, the large majority of them African American families that resided on the west side of Clubfoot Creek.

The Balls sometimes hired migrant laborers from Florida as well. When I was young, you could still see the ruins of the barracks where they stayed.

During the war, when these photographs were taken, Great-Uncle George and his brother also employed German prisoners of war.

My mother sometimes worked in the farm’s packing shed when she was a girl. She often told me about working alongside the young German men.

Harvesting sweet potatoes was no easy thing, and I have met farm people that would rather do just about anything else.

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The Ball brothers were what in those days were called “progressive farmers.”

According to an article that was published in Carolina Co-operator magazine in August 1939, the Balls first invested in a tractor, an International Harvester Titan 10-20, in 1919.

In a family reminiscence, I learned that the tractor had a top speed of 3.5 miles per hour and made so much noise that locals looked at the “IHC” painted on the front, for International Harvester Co., and said it stood for “In Hell Continuously.”

The Balls were evidently the first farmers in Carteret County to own a tractor.

They were also at the forefront of other local innovations in farming that were transforming agriculture in the first half of the 20th century.

According to the Carolina Co-operator, they were among the county’s first farmers to use manufactured lime to fertilize reclaimed land, instead of burnt oyster shells and hardwood.

Similarly, they were among the first local farmers to build a modern irrigation system, to practice crop rotation, and to invest in farm machinery such as an oil burner for their curing barn and an automatic hay bailer.

By the time of this photograph, they had upgraded their tractor to a big 3-ton machine, but it is nowhere to be seen in these photographs. All we see in them are plow horses and field workers.

In the second photograph above, and in our next photograph, we see plowmen breaking up the ground, then other field hands, called diggers, following behind, often on their hands and knees.

They are digging the sweet potatoes out of the upturned ground by hand, cleaning them off, and placing them in bushel baskets.

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This is another view of the sweet potato harvest at the Ball brothers’ farm in Harlowe, November 1942.

According to the article in Carolina Co-operator, the Ball brothers only grew three crops: white potatoes, sweet potatoes, and cabbage.

After the harvest, the Balls cured their sweet potato crop for several months. Then, late in the winter and early in the spring, they trucked the crop to markets in Petersburg, Richmond, and Washington, D.C.

Some years ago, near the end of his life, I sat down with my great-uncle George’s son Billy Ball and talked about his family’s history on that land.

Cousin Billy told me that his father George Ball, his uncle Raymond, and two of their brothers had bought almost 350 acres there on the north side of the Harlowe Canal on credit in 1917.

It was an abandoned farm that had grown up in sweet gum and pine. Before that time, the Balls had been living in South River, a little to the east.

At that time, only 15 acres of the abandoned farm remained cleared. The Ball brothers built makeshift shelters for themselves and their mules, and they, and presumably a great many Black men from North Harlowe, began timbering, grubbing, and clearing the land.

The Balls didn’t make much money farming at first, but they sold the timber to make the payments on their bank loan.

George and Raymond’s two brothers eventually left the farm. Billy told me that it was too hard for them and they wanted a different kind of life.

Billy told me about the days when hundreds of people worked in the fields.  He recalled that his father and Mr. Raymond took trucks to North Harlowe to pick up the workers, then carried them home in the evening.

He remembered the men and women from North Harlowe bringing their lunches in lard pails, often just collard greens and corn dumplings.

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In this photograph, we see my great-uncle George Ball paying one of his harvest workers in scrip.

According to the photographer’s notes, my great-uncle and his brother paid their field workers 5 cents a bushel.

I do not know how or when the field workers redeemed the scrip.  Perhaps they exchanged it for cash at the end of every workday or work week, or even after the harvest was completed.

Before the war, many of my family’s African American neighbors had few other options other than working in the fields.

By the end of 1942, when these photographs were taken, that was beginning to change largely because of the construction of the Cherry Point Marine Corps Air Station 11 miles to the west.

Thousands of civilians, of all races, found jobs at Cherry Point. To try to compete with the federal dollars, farm wages would have to go up, and many a white farmer that failed to treat his or her black workers with the respect or dignity to which they were entitled soon found themselves short on labor.

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A celebration marking the 100th anniversary of Greenfield Park in Wilmington will be hosted next month with tributes, family activities, and a free concert.

The Nov. 1 ceremony will kick off at 11 a.m. with remarks from various officials, including city and New Hanover County officials, followed by the dedication of a time capsule.

Community vendors, local food trucks and a bounce house will be on site during the celebration, which will extend through the afternoon for a free centennial concert at the Greenfield Lake Amphitheater from 2 p.m. until 6 p.m.

Officials are to announce additional information, including the lineup of concert performers, on its website.

Anyone with photographs of Greenfield Park who would like to include them in the time capsule may bring pictures no larger than 4 by 4 inches to the ceremony. Photographs may also be mailed to City of Wilmington Parks & Recreation, P.O. Box 1810, Wilmington, NC 28402.

Update Oct. 10: Duck officials announced Friday afternoon that the 2025 Duck Jazz Festival slated for this weekend has been canceled due to expected weather conditions.

Original post dated Oct. 3: Get ready to immerse yourself in the sounds of swing and rhythm at this year’s Duck Jazz Festival, a free, two-day event showcasing regional and local jazz musicians.

The town-sponsored festival now in its 16th year will kick off with a Concert on the Green-style event from 4-6 p.m. Oct. 11 featuring guitarist, producer and composer Adam Hawley on the main stage, 1200 Duck Road, in Duck Town Park. Hawley has performed with the likes of Natalie Cole, Lalah Hathaway, Jennifer Lopez and The Manhattan Transfer.

Several artists will be showcased on two different stages during a full day of music Oct. 12. Gates open at 10 a.m.

Vocalist Shayna Steele will kick things off at 11 a.m. on the main stage followed by a lineup to include:

• First Flight High School Honors Jazz Band at 12:10 p.m. on the amphitheater stage.
• Gerald Veasley at 1:10 p.m. on the main stage.
• David Esleck Trio featuring Jordan Garrett at 2:20 p.m. on the amphitheater stage.
• Brass Queens at 3:25 p.m. on the main stage.
• The Hot Lanes with Bobby Jasinski at 4:30 p.m. on the amphitheater stage.
• Tito Puente, Jr. at 5:25 p.m. on the main stage.

The festival will be held rain or shine. Chairs are available for rent onsite from Just for the Beach and attendees are invited to bring food, coolers, chairs, blankets, and well-behaved dogs.

Food and soft drinks will also be available for purchase from Duck eateries.

Umbrellas and tents are not permitted and video recording is prohibited.

The park is smoke-free and plastic, aluminum, and glass recycling receptors are available onsite, but guests are asked to consider taking glass containers home to recycle for the safety of the event’s volunteers.

A children’s story time and rhythm play, movie on the green, community concert on the green and a live jam at the Bluepoint will be hosted Oct. 10.

For further details, including the environmental policy for the event, visit the town’s website. “As part of the Town’s vision, a commitment to environmental stewardship is one of our unifying principles,” according to the website.

Live music and other special activities will be taking place at Duck businesses around town.  For event updates, follow Duck Jazz Festival on Facebook and Twitter.

The Ocracoke Working Watermen’s Festival is Saturday, Oct. 11, at The Community Square docks.

The festival set for 10 a.m. to sunset celebrates island traditions. As reported by the Ocracoke Observer, “Since they became the first inhabitants of the island, Ocracokers have made their living on the water, from piloting ships through the treacherous Ocracoke Inlet, to fishing, crabbing, clamming, oyster harvesting, duck hunting, and decoy carving, all of which continue today, handed down through the generations.”

These traditions will be central to the festival’s exhibits, demonstrations, vendor booths and guest speakers.

Proceeds from a clam chowder lunch from 11 a.m. to 2 p.m. will go to benefit the Ocracoke Community Pool Association.

An oyster exhibit and tasting is 3 to 5 p.m. with a guest chef, a seafood sampling and then live music from 4 to 6 p.m.

Fort Fisher State Historic Site has scheduled a daylong living history event for Saturday to commemorate the 80th anniversary of World War II ending.

The program begins at 9 a.m. Saturday with a military vehicle convoy that will travel from Fort Fisher to Kure Beach and back. From 10 a.m. to 4 p.m., there will be living history displays with military and civilian reenactors on the green between the visitor center and earthworks, a period field kitchen, and numerous historic military vehicles.

A full event schedule is available on Fort Fisher State Historic Site’s website and social media. Parking is available at the visitor center.

Situated near the Cape Fear River, the site was a Confederate fort that defended the Wilmington port during the American Civil War. During World War II, antiaircraft artillery soldiers trained at the site on various weaponry starting in October 1941 to prepare for deployment. Between the post’s opening and its closing in 1944, more than 40 battalions trained at Fort Fisher, according to North Carolina Historic Sites, under the N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

The Bird Island Stewards will host monthly guided nature walks every third Wednesday beginning next month through May 2026 on the Bird Island Coastal Reserve in Brunswick County.

The first walk will be hosted at reserve in Sunset Beach at 10 a.m. on Oct. 15.

During these topical walks, stewards will highlight the history, ecology, and wildlife of the reserve, which includes pristine sandy white beaches, dunes, and more than 1,000 acres of salt marsh and meandering creeks.

The Wednesday walks will begin at 10 a.m., cover nearly 3 miles and last approximately 90 minutes to two hours.

Participants are encouraged to wear closed-toe shoes, pants and bring water.

Guides will meet participants at the marsh overlook near 40th Street (West Main Street) in Sunset Beach.

The town enforces paid parking 9 a.m. – 5 p.m. between April 1 and Oct. 31. Ensure you park in a designated parking spot with a valid pass.

Visitors can get a sense of what the Brunswick Town/Fort Anderson State Historic Site was like in colonial times and the Civil War during two different living history programs being offered at no charge.

Before the American Revolution, Brunswick was a major port on the Cape Fear River in what is now called Winnabow. British troops destroyed the village in 1776 and it was never rebuilt, according to the state. Fort Anderson was constructed on top of the site during the Civil War, and was part of the river’s defenses south of Wilmington before the Confederacy fell.

The first program for the fall, “The Carolina Blues: Indigo on the Cape Fear” is scheduled for 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 27.

The program is to illustrate how enslaved African laborers extracted dye from indigo plants, and the science behind dye production. Visitors will be able to watch and work an active fermentation vat during the day’s dyeing demonstrations. The Friends group that supports the site plan to sell shirts for $25 each to visitors to try their hand at dying material.

During the next program set for 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 18, costumed historic interpreters will explore colonial life and trades at the port with blacksmithing, woodworking, cooking, baking and candle dipping demonstrations. The event will feature a demonstration of an active tar kiln, which was essential to the production of valuable naval stores in the colony, and colonial games throughout the day.

The site is managed by North Carolina Historic Sites, a division of the N.C. Department of Natural and Cultural Resources.

Featured Image

Wild horses cross tidal waters from Town Marsh to Bird Shoal along Beaufort’s barrier islands, which are part of the Rachel Carson Reserve, in Carteret County. The cluster of islands includes Carrot Island, Town Marsh, Bird Shoal, and Horse Island, and the horses are descended from those brought to the islands by a Beaufort area resident in the 1940s, according to the North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality. The state manages the horse population for its health and for the health of the environment, but the herd is otherwise left to fend and forage for itself. Photo: Dylan Ray

Editor’s note: The following is from historian David Cecelski’s “Working Lives: Photographs from Eastern North Carolina, 1937 to 1947.” He introduced the nearly 20-part photo-essay series in early August, explaining at the time that the images he selected from the North Carolina Department of Conservation and Development Collection were taken between 1937 and 1951 of the state’s farms, industries, and working people.

One of the more unusual scenes of working life that I found in the NCDC&D Collection at the State Archives in Raleigh was a series of photographs taken aboard the James Adams Floating Theatre while docked on the Pamlico River in Washington in 1940.

The James Adams Floating Theatre’s troupe of actors and actresses toured coastal waterways from Florida to New Jersey from 1914 to 1941. Tugboats towed the theater from town to town, and the boat’s troupe usually did a weeklong run before heading to their next stop.

Over the years, I have seen many photographs of the James Adams Floating Theatre. However, nearly all of them have been looking at the Floating Theatre and its traveling troupe of performers from a distance, usually when it was tied up at a wharf or being towed down a local waterway.

This group of photographs is different. Most were taken on the Floating Theatre, and they show the daily life of the boat’s performers and crew in a way that I have never seen before.

They show actors and actresses rehearsing a play. They take us into the boat’s galley and introduce us to the troupe’s cook. They give us a view into the ticket booth, and of one actress preparing her costume, another whiling away time between performances by fishing off the barge.

And, as we see in the photograph above, they give us a glimpse of stage manager and actor Daile Herlit doing his makeup just prior to a performance.

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In this photograph, we see members of the boat’s troupe rehearsing a scene from a popular temperance play called “Ten Nights in a Bar Room and What I Saw There.”

Based on a very popular 1854 novel by Timothy Shay Arthur, the play had been a staple on Vaudeville and in traveling shows for many a year.

The actress in this scene, Helen Brown, was one of the troupe’s stars.

Reflecting on the Floating Theatre’s heyday, Earl Dean of the Durham Morning Herald Oct. 1, 1950, recalled that the troupe’s staple fare was “the old blood-and-thunder melodrama with an atmosphere supercharged with dark and dirty deeds, tear jerkers with a pretty maiden, a mortgaged homestead and a villainous sheriff with a mortgage in his hip pocket.”

Plays like “Ten Nights in a Bar Room” were really just part of the offerings on the Floating Theatre though.

Musical performances, magic acts, ventriloquism, acrobatics, fortune telling, maybe a magic lantern show or even a pet act or two — there was no telling what you might see when the curtain went up!

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Here we see a winsome pair of clowns all dressed up and ready to go on stage.

In the reminiscence that he published in the Durham Morning Herald, Dean described the Floating Theatre as “a great seagoing barn on a barge with a little house on top.”

The Floating Theatre, he recalled, carried a cast of a dozen or so, a seven-piece orchestra, and a cook or two, as well as the crews for the barge and the two tugboats that towed the barge from town to town.

Everyone did more than one job. Our clowns here might have served as ushers before the curtain went up, might have played a banjo and fiddle on stage between acts, and then helped with a play’s special effects when they were not on stage.

The boat’s theatre had room for about 400 persons when this photograph was taken in 1940.

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Here we see the Floating Theatre’s captain taking tickets before a show.

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And here we see one of the Floating Theatre’s actresses ironing a costume before that night’s show.

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By 1940, times were catching up with the James Adams Floating Theatre. By then, at least in larger towns, the public could go to a movie theater and watch the latest Hollywood films.

More and more people also owned radios and record players. In many larger coastal towns, you could walk through the streets and hear all kinds of music coming out of people’s windows — Big Band music, jazz, opera and the latest dance numbers from New York City.

Many people also religiously followed their favorite radio dramas, comedy shows, and soap operas, at the time as well.

Perhaps by 1940, some of the novelty of the Floating Theatre was wearing off. It was getting easy to forget the thrill and excitement that the arrival of the James Adams Floating Theatre had given audiences in its early days, especially back in the 1910s and ’20s.

Built in 1913, the Floating Theatre was built in 1913 and had first begun traveling coastal waterways in 1914.

Over the years, as I have done historical research on other subjects, I have often been surprised at the places where I found the Floating Theatre’s troupe of players performing on the North Carolina coast.

The Floating Theatre’s players regularly staged shows in the state’s larger seaports, such as Washington, New Bern, and Elizabeth City. But the troupe also visited little coastal villages such as Winton, Murfreesboro, Bath, Bayboro, Oriental, Swansboro, and many others.

I even stumbled on the Floating Theatre hosting shows at a very remote lumber mill village on Juniper Bay, 10 or 12 miles east of Swan Quarter. The mill village was so small that it vanished when the mill eventually shut down.

In those sorts of places, even in 1940, theaters were few and far between, radios were uncommon, and most weren’t even on the old medicine show and traveling circus circuit.

When the Floating Theatre tied up at a wharf in a place like Juniper Bay, people came from far and wide to its shows.

They’d drive all day in a horse and cart or crowded into a farm wagon. They put down their saws and tromp out of the log woods. They’d close the schoolhouse’s doors and declare a holiday, all for the chance to see a show and laugh, forget their troubles, and feel things deeply.

As best I can tell, the Floating Theatre’s troupe welcomed one and all to their shows, as long as they could buy a ticket. To abide by the Jim Crow code of the time though, the ushers had no choice but to segregate white customers from those who were African American or Native American.

That was the law of the land and there were no exceptions, at least not in the light of day.

As the old saying went, “after midnight there was no black or white,” and truer words were never spoken.

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In this last photograph in this series, we meet Rose Teal, the James Adams Floating Theatre’s cook.

Teal was evidently the kind of person who believed in preparing for the worst.

A year or two earlier, the Floating Theatre had hit a snag and sunk on the Roanoke River. I believe that the accident occurred while being towed from Murfreesboro to Williamston.

At the time, a newspaper reporter wrote, “Best prepared of the passengers was Rose, the cook, who has been with the show boat for the past six years. Rose, on the weekend trips from place to place, not only sleeps fully clothed and shod, but has all her belongings neatly done up in cardboard boxes.”

The reporter continued: “Her cabin was down under the stage, but she was among the first to reach the top-side, though how she and her collections negotiated the narrow stairway, was inexplicable.”

Nobody was hurt when the Floating Theatre went down. The boat was soon refloated and, as they say, the show went on.

Nevertheless, I can understand Rose Teal’s caution. That incident was at least the third time that the James Adams Floating Theatre had gone down.

Second in a series on a recent visit to Louisiana’s bayous, a trip sponsored by the Nicholas School of the Environment at Duke University, to start a conversation between people there who are being flooded out and those in the Down East communities of Carteret County who face similar threats.

BAYOU LAFOURCHE, La. – Eric Verdin clearly knew where he was going. These waters are like family, after all, but his GPS plotter was frantic. Using the latest marine charts, its line tracing our path on the screen in front of us blinked red, warning us that we were about to plow into dry land. It was a good time, it seemed to suggest, to ABANDON SHIP. But we had open seas ahead of us and 8 feet of water under our keel.

“There used to be an orange grove here,” our captain conceded with a shrug.

Not a hundred years ago. Not 50. Not even 20. “Not that long ago, really,” Verdin said, as he looked out the window of the shrimp boat’s pilot house across the placid water of the bayou to the glimmering Gulf of Mexico on the horizon. “Just about all that water you see in front of us was all marsh.”

His native people, the Biloxi-Chitimacha, have lived on the fringes of this watery world along the southwestern tip of Louisiana for many generations. Verdin, 58, has known these waters since boyhood. He makes his living here, first running big boats to supply the oil rigs out in the Gulf and now chasing brown and white shrimp. He’s witnessed changes he never thought possible. “I’ve seen the absolute devastation of our coast during my lifetime,” he said with a sigh. “Miles and miles of marsh are now open waters.”

Nowhere on Earth does land disappear as quickly as it does here in southern Louisiana. According to one fantastic estimate, the water covers, on average, a chunk of marsh the size of a football field every hour or so. Or is it 15 minutes? No matter. The change is so rapid that not even online navigation charts can keep up. Brought about by a catastrophic combination of human engineering, ignorance and hubris, it’s been going on, though more slowly, for at least a century. During that time, an area of marshland the size of Delaware vanished. Now, add another human-induced insult — rising seas triggered by the warming climate — and a similar-sized piece is expected to disappear in just 25 years.

This is ground zero for sea level rise and wetland loss in the world. We, of course, had to see it ourselves.

A group of North Carolinians, on a 10-day trip sponsored by Duke University, toured coastal Louisiana in June looking for connections, for people at the water’s edge who are facing the perils wrought by a rapidly changing environment. They have weathered the frequent storms, survived the destructive aftermaths, and found ways to accommodate the rising seas as the familiar natural world transforms in the blink of their lifetimes. Some of their communities have been displaced, and their cultures are threatened.

Coastal people back home will soon increasingly confront the same dangers, knows Karen Amspacher, a native of Harkers Island in Carteret County, the director of a cultural museum there and the group’s inspirational leader. “We’re all living on the edge,” she told Verdin after he welcomed us aboard his 55-foot shrimper, Lil’E. “I’ve been trying to find common ties with people who are going through what we will.”

After the bayous of Louisiana and Florida’s Gold Coast, the uniformly flat North Carolina coastal plain is the most-endangered landscape in America. The small fishing and farming villages of low-lying eastern Carteret County, Amspacher’s beloved Down East, face a grim future of increasing storms and flooding. Many of the homes will become uninhabitable by century’s end.

Jerrica Cheramie understands all too well the fears that the people there will have to confront. “I’m just 36 and I’ve seen all this change,” said the local high school teacher who joined us on the boat. “It’s terrifying.”

Taming A River

Since its beginning, the Mississippi River has deposited the silt of a continent to build the Louisiana coastline. Its delta, a water-logged labyrinth of bayous, marsh grasses and ancient cypress trees, fans out like a swampy snout into the Gulf. The first European settlers along the lower Mississippi in the 18^th century started throwing up dirt walls along the river’s banks to protect themselves from the frequent floods. The effort intensified a century later after a series of devastating deluges. Congress got involved after the Great Flood in 1927 killed 500 people and inundated 27,000 square miles. It authorized the Army Corps of Engineers to begin digging. That old river man, Mark Twain, once scoffed at the notion of containing the mighty Mississippi. “Ten thousand River Commissions …,” he wrote, “cannot tame that lawless stream … cannot say to it, ‘Go here,’ or ‘Go there,’ and make it obey.”

By God, they tried, and they came damn close. Close enough, anyway, to make southern Louisiana disappear.

Today, massive levees line the river for about half of its 2,400-mile-long route to the sea. Along the very southern leg of its journey, the Mississippi is little more than a big canal, hemmed in place by huge earthen walls.

We followed it one day for its last 75 miles. Down Louisiana Highway 23 we went, through Bohemia and Port Sulfur, past Home Place and Triumph, to Venice, population 164. It’s as far as you can go by car. The river was on our left the entire way, but it flowed unseen behind its wall. The smokestacks of the ships we passed were the only hints that the river was actually there. At the end of the road, we had hoped to watch the great Mississippi make its last, lumbering lurch to the Gulf. Alas, there was nothing to see but more marsh, the wall and assorted bits of industrial detritus – cranes, barges, pipes, barrels and such. More on that shortly.

As we stood at the end of the road expressing our disappointment, a set of eyes popped up through the murky water of a lagoon that wasn’t 20 feet away. Then, another. Soon, it was a dozen. Then, more. I had never seen so many alligators in one place at a time, and I once lived in Miami and fished the Everglades in a canoe. They all came toward us, gliding silently through the water, leaving gentle wakes behind them. Our presence clearly triggered this conclave. Other gawkers, we surmised, had also come this way and had fed the native wildlife. The approaching gators were expecting a handout. What tidbits do you toss to giant reptiles? I wondered as we quickly headed back to the cars. A bucket of Col. Sanders? A Big Mac? Chick-fil-A nuggets, we agreed. Everything likes them.

After that meander worthy of the old Mississippi, let’s get back on course. The point of all this is that the river now heads straight to the Gulf. No more oxbow cutoffs, no twists, no turns. With it, goes all that muck. Very little now leaks into the surrounding bays. Without sediment to nourish them, the marshes have been sinking for a long time. They are drowning more quickly now as sea level rise accelerates.

Big, Big Oil

Verdin killed the engine and dropped anchor. We bobbed under a scorching sun in languid Lake Raccourci. A lot of open water bodies on the Gulf’s fringes in Louisiana are called lakes because they were surrounded by marsh when the mapmakers named them. To Verdin, these are sacred waters. His son, Eric Jr., died in a car wreck five years ago. He was only 34. His family spread his ashes here, one of his “honey holes.” Verdin named his boat after Eric and put a picture of his smiling son in a frame on the bulkhead behind the ship’s wheel. “He always used to stand behind me and say go this way or that way,” his father explained. Verdin comes back often, especially on the anniversary of his son’s death in December when he places flowers in the water. He couldn’t think of a better place to take visitors. We were honored.

We were also surrounded by an odd array of pipes, pumps and iron platforms that rose out of the water everywhere. Rust was their primary color. Each one marked an oil or natural gas well, Verdin explained, and most are still producing, though some are approaching 100 years old. They are relics, really, of simpler times, when the Gulf was just becoming America’s great oilfield.

Like the deltas of many of the world’s great rivers, the Mississippi’s is full of oil and gas. All that muck that the river deposited for millions of years contained the organic ingredients — ancient plants, algae, bacteria – of oil and gas. They’re called fossil fuels for a reason. Time and heat did the rest.

I sat one night on the beach at Grand Isle, one of the few sandy beaches in the lower bayous, and counted the lights of 22 offshore oil rigs blinking on the horizon. There are more than 600 out there, making the Gulf of Mexico America’s primary source for offshore oil and natural gas.

Big Oil is really big here. Its presence is almost everywhere: Refineries with their fiery tails of methane, mountains of pipeline stacked in neat pyramids, natural gas liquification plants, petrochemical complexes, miles of storage tanks, acres of stacked barrels. All in industrial grimy gray with splashes of white. It ain’t pretty and there’s likely no way to make it so.

From Lake Raccourci, we could see the outline of Port Fourchon, maybe 8 miles away. It is Big Oil’s most important port. More than 400 ships leave it every day to supply the rigs. More than 15,000 people fly out of there every month to work on them. It’s the operational base for almost 300 companies. The port is perched at the tail end of LA1, a vital road so threatened that it’s being raised on a causeway to keep it from slipping under the Gulf.

Before all that, there were these pipes now sticking out of the water. The reservoirs closest to shore were, naturally, the first to be tapped, starting in the 1930s. The companies dug canals through the dense marshland to dig the wells. The channels ended up becoming pathways for water, accelerating the marsh’s demise. Many of the wells are now miles from the nearest dry land.

Everybody understands the role the oil and gas industry played in destroying the marshes, Verdin explained as the shrimp were almost ready for lunch. “In hindsight, it ruined our environment, but you won’t find fishermen around here who are anti-oil.” he said. “We know how much we’ve benefitted. When the fishing was good, we fished. When oil was booming, we worked in oil.”

The Diversion

Verdin spilled the pot of boiled shrimp, corn on the cob and potatoes onto one of the hatch covers, and we dug in. The lunchtime conversation turned to The Diversion, the first step of a grand ecosystem experiment that would have taken 50 years to complete and would have cost more than $50 billion. Officially known as the Mid-Barataria Sediment Diversion, the controversial project intended to divert some of the Mississippi’s flow to allow sediment to once again nourish portions of the marsh. “We need to do something,” Verdin said. “This can’t go on.”

That was the state’s conclusion after Hurricane Katrina devastated the region 25 years ago last month. Healthy marshes, scientists said, would have lessened the damage. In response, the state legislature in 2007 passed the first coastal master plan, a 50-year initiative to blunt the forces eating away at the coastline: sinking land, rising seas, and the channels dug by the oil and gas industry. Barrier islands would be rebuilt, levees bulked up, and structures raised. The plan also endorsed 11 river-diversion projects. The biggest was in Barataria Bay, about 30 miles east of our lunchtime anchorage. Engineers planned to poke a hole into the levee near Ironton in Plaquemines Parish and release 75,000 cubic feet of sediment every second. They estimated that doing so every day for six months a year would create 21 square miles of new marsh in 50 years. “It gives us a fighting chance to win this battle,” Chip Kline, the chairman of the state authority charged with the task, said in 2021.

Others weren’t so sure. Fishermen worried that the sudden influx of freshwater would push oysters and brown shrimp, mainstays of the local fishing industry, out of their current ranges. Federal scientists feared that the salinity drop could cause skin diseases in the bay’s dolphins, killing maybe a third of them. Opponents noted that even if it completes everything in the plan, the state will still lose more wetlands – 2,300 square miles — than it saves or creates – 1,200 square miles.

The scheme went on life support the day voters sent Jeff Landry to the governor’s mansion in 2023. He had been a staunch opponent of the project as attorney general, questioning its ballooning cost — $3.1 billion — and claiming it would kill fisheries important to Cajun culture. A month after our visit, Landry canceled the project.

Its demise didn’t likely lessen Charamie’s resolve “People ask why do I live here?” she said before we said our goodbyes back at the dock. “Where am I to go? This is home.”

It would be a sentiment we would hear again and again.

Next: Life on the edge.

The National Park Service has awarded the state a $75,000 grant to perform an archaeological assessment at the Brunswick Town-Fort Anderson State Historic Site in Winnabow.

The North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources announced the award this week that is to go toward an “up-to-date, all-encompassing study of the site’s waterfront where a significant colonial port once operated,” using the latest technology such as digital mapping, drone photography, ground-penetrating radar and shoreline monitoring.

Only a quarter of Brunswick Town, which was established in 1726 as the state’s colonial seat of government, has been archaeologically excavated, according to the state. The previous archaeological investigations were limited and intermittent, preventing a comprehensive understanding of the historic artifacts and resources on the property.

Related: NOAA awards Brunswick Town shoreline project $2.5M grant

“Not since the archaeological investigations of Stanley South in the 1960s has a comprehensive assessment at the colonial capital and port of Brunswick Town been possible,” State Archaeologist Chris Southerly said in a statement. “With the modern tools and technology available, this grant will allow us to collect new and consistent data to better manage, steward, and protect this invaluable resource.”

The project was awarded under the National Park Service Semiquincentennial Grant Program, which commemorates the 250th anniversary of the American Revolutionary War in 2026.

“Particularly as we reflect on Brunswick Town’s complex and important role in the founding of this country, we are excited by the possibilities of what this full assessment may reveal,” N.C. Historic Sites Director Michelle Lanier said. “We are extremely grateful that the National Park Service recognizes the urgency of this work and is investing in the long-term preservation of North Carolina’s cultural heritage.”

Wilmington is seeking proposals for the design, fabrication and installation of a permanent public artwork commemorating the historic city’s significant role in the American Revolution.

The city invites professional artists or artist teams to submit proposals between Sept. 1 and Oct. 31.

Submittals should reflect the historical importance of the city’s revolutionary past, recognizing the stories, people, and spirit that helped shape the birth of this nation, “while creating a meaningful and lasting landmark for the city,” according to a city notice.

The artwork will be installed in downtown on public property.

The artist or artist team whose proposal is selected will be awarded a $25,000, all-inclusive budget related to design, materials, fabrication, transportation, installation and any necessary permits or insurance.

Eligible artists or artist teams must be at least 18 and authorized to work in the United States. Experience with public art is preferred.

Proposals will be evaluated on artistic merit and originality, relevance and connection to Wilmington’s Revolutionary War history, feasibility and durability of materials in an outdoor, public setting, ability to meet the project timeline and budget, and community impact and site integration.

Submittals should include an artist statement and resume, a one- or two-page concept description explaining the applicant’s vision, historical relevance, materials and fabrication methods, a preliminary visual rendering or concept sketches, a budget breakdown, a timeline for project completion, certificate of liability insurance, and three to five images of past works, particularly public art.

Artists also have the option to submit letters of support or references.

Submittals may be emailed as a single PDF to andrea.talley@wilmingtonnc.gov with the subject line “Revolutionary Wilmington Art Proposal – (Name of artist)” or mailed to City of Wilmington, Attention: Andrea Talley, Parks and Recreation, P.O. Box 1810, Wilmington, NC 28402.

For questions, email Talley.

Note from the author: This is the second photo-essay in a series I’m calling “Working Lives: Photographs from Eastern North Carolina, 1937 to 1947.” You can find my introduction to the series here or here.

In this second group of photos, the North Carolina Department of Conservation and Development Collection photographers introduce us to workers in a sawmill, a handle mill, and a veneer plant that were located on the banks of the Roanoke River in 1938 and 1939.

During the late 19th and early 20th century, wood mills seemed to be up every river and creek on the North Carolina coast turning out lumber, shingles, veneer paneling, and, as we’ll see, even ax handles.

At the industry’s zenith around 1900, tens of thousands of men worked in those mills.

Millions of acres of forest were cut. Thousands of miles of railroad track were built to carry logs to mills and lumber to distant markets. Towns rose, and often fell, with the opening and closing of mills.

I was drawn to this photograph, and to the others below, because they give us a rare glimpse at the people inside those mills.

In this first photograph, we see two young men and an older gentleman cutting and stacking veneer panels at the Weitz Veneer Co.’s plant in Plymouth in 1938.

Based in Chicago, Weitz had made veneer paneling in Plymouth since the turn of the century.

The work was hard, exacting, and much of it required great skill. It was also notoriously dangerous. The rate of accidents was especially high in the furnace and boiler rooms and for those, like the men in this photograph, who operated lathes, planers, and other cutting machines.

At Weitz, the making of veneer began by sorting, debarking, and cutting raw logs into boards.

The company’s workers then used rotary lathes and slicing machines to cut the boards into thin sheets of veneer. Once that was done, they dried the veneer in kilns, then cut and fashioned the panels into whatever size and shape that was appropriate for the final product.

From there, the workers handed the veneer panels over to the finishing department, where other workers sanded and often stained or coated them in some way before other workers assembled them.

According to newspaper reports, the Weitz plant’s workers were largely using the veneer to manufacture wooden boxes when this photograph was taken in the late 1930s.

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In this photograph, also from 1938, we see the Weitz Veneer Co.’s plant from the outside, a lone man strolling by.

The Roanoke River and the company’s wharf is on the other side of the plant. Down the road, but not visible in this photograph, was a section of company housing called White City.

Plymouth was booming in those years just before World War II. Large numbers of people were migrating to the little river town to work in the lumber and wood products industry.

Some came to Plymouth to work at Weitz or one of the town’s smaller wood products companies. Most, however, were looking for work at a massive new pulp mill that had opened in Plymouth in 1937.

A division of a large corporation based in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, the North Carolina Pulp Co. had built the pulp mill on the banks of the Roanoke, 3 or 4 miles upriver of the Weitz plant.

Some of the town’s new residents came to Plymouth from towns where other mills had closed. A sizable contingent of workers from a shuttered mill in West Virginia, for instance, moved to Plymouth to take jobs at the pulp mill.

But hundreds of others were African American families that had forsaken sharecropping or tenant farming elsewhere in eastern North Carolina to make a new start at Weitz, the pulp mill, or one of the town’s other companies that were connected to the lumber industry.

At Weitz, the work was sweltering hot in summer, freezing cold in winter, ill paid, and as I mentioned earlier, often dangerous.

Nonetheless, from all I have heard, the company’s workers still considered a job at Weitz a big step up from sharecropping or tenant farming, which no doubt says a lot about what farming was like in that day, at least if you were African American and landless.

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This is a photograph of a pair of the Weitz Veneer Co.’s workers in one of the company’s cutting rooms in 1938.

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This is photograph from another company on the Roanoke, a sawmill in Williamston 20 miles upriver of Plymouth, in 1938. I am not sure, but I believe it is the sawmill at Saunders & Cox, a lumber company that had docks on the river a quarter mile east of the town’s U.S. 17 bridge.

If you look close, you will see at least four of the mill’s workers, and possibly a fifth back in the shadows.

The workers at Saunders & Cox received raw logs on the river and by truck. The logs could have been felled almost anywhere in the Roanoke River bottomland swamps or in the hinterlands– along the Cashie River or in the headwaters of the Pungo River, for instance.

Once the logs were sorted — “decking” in the trade — the sawyers went to work debarking and running the logs through the big saws. In most mills, they then ran the rough lumber through resaws or gang saws, capable of cutting multiple boards, that cut them into thinner boards.

The sawyers then used edging and trimming machines to shape the boards into four-sided lumber, after which the boards were ready for drying, which was sometimes done in kilns, sometimes in the open air.

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This is another view of workers hoisting and debarking a log at the sawmill in Williamston, possibly Saunders & Cox, in 1938.

Judging from the company’s newspaper ads, this was not the kind of mill that shipped lumber far and wide. During the Great Depression, national demand for lumber plummeted and Saunders & Cox’s ads focused on local markets, mainly offering firewood and lumber for local building.

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This is a our Williamston sawmill again, possibly Saunders & Cox, in August of 1938. A man leading a mule and cart through a lumber yard, or a field, was still a common sight in those last years before the Second World War, but that would not be true much longer.

Even in the 1920s and ’30s, mules, work horses, and oxen were everywhere. They pulled plows, hauled in fishing nets, dragged logs out of forests, and hauled wagons and carts laden with all manner of things.

But by the time that I was growing up in eastern North Carolina in the 1960s that had all changed.

I do not remember ever seeing a mule or any other work animal at a mill or factory.

At my grandmother’s little farm, we only knew one neighbor who still farmed with a mule in those days. He was a very endearing man, and very set in his ways, and so was his mule.

-7-

This photograph takes us back downriver to another wood products company that was located on the Roanoke River in 1938: the American Handle Co.’s factory in Plymouth.

The company was a division of the National Hoe Co., which was based in Cleveland, Ohio.

The National Hoe Co., in turn, was a subsidiary of the American Fork and Hoe Co., a sprawling near monopoly that had its roots in Vermont in the early 19th century.

At plants across the eastern U.S., the company’s workers made wooden handles for an astonishing array of farm, factory, and garden tools and equipment; purportedly more than a hundred types of shovel handles alone.

At the Plymouth plant, the company’s workers fashioned wooden handles for axes, hoes and other farm implements. I have often heard local people refer to the plant as the “ax factory.”

By most accounts, the workers made all of the handles out of white ash, which the company obtained from extensive forest holdings in Bertie, Washington, Martin and Halifax counties.

During and just after the Second World War,  the company’s workers were part of a wave of union organizing that sought to improve pay and working conditions for mill workers along that part of the Roanoke and throughout much of eastern North Carolina.

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Finally, we see a train load of logs rolling down the branch of the Atlantic Coast Line Railroad between Plymouth and Williamston, 1938.

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Editor’s note: Coastal Review regularly features the work of North Carolina historian David Cecelski, who writes about the history, culture and politics of the state’s coast. More of his work can be found on his official website.

Note from the author: This is the first photo-essay in a series I’m calling “Working Lives: Photographs from Eastern North Carolina, 1937 to 1947.” You can find my introduction to the series here.

I want to begin this series by looking at a group of 21 photographs that chronicle threshing time on a peanut farm near Edenton in the years just before the Second World War.

The oldest of the photographs was taken in 1937. Others were taken in 1938 and in the autumn of 1941, just a few weeks before Pearl Harbor. One other was taken in 1942.

The first group of photographs focuses on the harvest workers, mostly the threshers, but also the diggers. A second group looks at the work of cleaning, grading and bagging the peanuts at a plant and warehouse in Edenton.

An ancient crop native to South America, peanuts spread across much of the world through the Transatlantic Slave Trade in the 16th and 17th centuries. Farmers in West Africa were among those who came to grow them.

Most historians and ethnobotanists believe that peanuts came to North America, especially to Virginia and North Carolina, via West Africa and the slave trade in the 18th century. By most accounts, they were long considered a crop mainly for feeding hogs and for feeding the enslaved Africans that were forced to raise crops on the region’s plantations.

According to a 2019 article in the journal Peanut Science, southeastern Virginia and northeastern North Carolina were especially important in the crop’s early development in North America in large part because of the slave trade.

In the southeastern part of the North Carolina coast, the Wilmington area was also an important center of peanut farming in the the 18th century. Again, wholly reliant on slave labor.

By 1860, the majority of the peanuts in the U.S. were grown on North Carolina’s coastal plain, though they were rarely grown as a commercial crop.

Little is known about how enslaved people utilized peanuts as a food, though it is assumed that some of the traditional peanut dishes of the Gullah Geechee peoples date to the slavery era. A good description of peanut farming’s early history in the Wilmington vicinity can be found at the website for Poplar Grove Plantation, a historic site built around what used to be a slave labor camp in Pender County.

A number of factors contributed to making peanuts into a successful commercial crop in the late 19th and early 20th century.

Those factors included the adoption of peanuts as an easy-to-carry, nonperishable, high protein food by Civil War soldiers; the groundbreaking research that George Washington Carver did on new food uses for peanuts at Tuskegee Institute; and the collapse of cotton prices and the rise of the boll weevil in the 1920s, which led many southern farmers to search for alternative crops.

Another important factor in the growth of peanuts and peanut farming was the development of popular new peanut products.

Modern peanut butter was invented sometime in the late 19th or early 20th century, though there is some disagreement over where it was first made and who first invented it.

Another important development in the growing popularity of peanuts occurred in 1906, when two Italian immigrants, Amadeo Obici and Mario Peruzzi, both innovators in the roast peanut trade, established a partnership that led to the creation of the Planters Nut and Chocolate Co., which is still famous for its “Mr. Peanut” logo and mascot today.

When Obici and Peruzzi located their first plant in Suffolk, Virginia, 50 miles north of Edenton, in 1913, they guaranteed an almost endless demand for peanuts in the northeast corner of North Carolina, and other peanut processing companies followed.

Peanut candies were also growing popular in those first decades of the 20th century. The peanut-laden Baby Ruth candy bar first appeared in 1923, the no less peanutty Mr. Goodbar in 1925, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in 1928, Snickers in 1930, and Payday in 1932.

Cracker Jacks were a bit older — they were first developed in 1898 — but the popularity of Cracker Jacks and roasted peanuts soared with the popularity of baseball in the early 20th century.

All of which is to say, the demand for peanuts skyrocketed in the United States in the first half of the 20th century. Throughout that time, the center of the peanut farming and peanut processing industry continued to be southeast Virginia and northeast North Carolina.

When these photographs were taken in the late 1930s and early 1940s, the peanut belt in North Carolina ran from the counties on the north side of Albemarle Sound, including Chowan County, where Edenton is, west through Bertie, Martin, Northampton, and Halifax counties.

In those years, Enfield, a small town in Halifax County, was considered the state’s busiest peanut market.

In the photographs below, you will find something of a guide to this part of life and work in Eastern North Carolina’s history.

The photographs give us a glimpse at the people who worked in the peanut fields, and a look into a peanut mill in Edenton.

They introduce us to the kind of work that thousands upon thousands of mainly African American field workers did for much of the 20th century.

But as you will see, the stories behind the photographs also introduce us to people whom I never would have expected to meet in the peanut fields of Eastern North Carolina, including even Bahamian migrant laborers and Italian POWs from North Africa.

Note: I have arranged the photo-essays in my “Working Lives” series in chronological order to the extent possible. I’m beginning with these scenes from the peanut fields in Edenton because the earliest photograph among them is dated 1937. The last in the series will feature pickle factory workers in Faison and Mt. Olive in 1947.

So let’s get started with our first photograph, taken in the midst of threshing season on a peanut farm near Edenton.

-1-

In our first photograph, a broad view of threshing time on a peanut farm near Edenton is spread out before us. We can see a field that seems to go on forever, threshers at work, several mules, piles of peanut hay, the dust rising up off a mechanical peanut picker, and a pile of burlap bags heavy with peanuts.

Threshing was hard work, but the hardest work had already been done some weeks earlier, when scores of field workers had dug the peanut vines and pods out of the ground and set them out on stakes to cure.

Like beans and peas, peanuts are a legume, technically not a nut, but they are exceptional among the legumes because their pods develop beneath the ground.

To harvest the peanuts in this field, laborers, probably all of them African American, dug up the the whole plant: vine, pods and all. It was a grueling job accomplished with mules, plows, and a great deal of sweat.

After digging the vines out of the ground, the field workers shook the dirt loose from the plants before setting them out to cure. A task that, in my experience, is harder than it sounds and which nobody remembers fondly.

In a field this size, hundreds of field laborers would likely have done the digging, shaking and staking.

Firsthand accounts of peanut field workers’ labors are rare, but on July 5, 1983, the Wilmington Star-News ran an interview with an African American woman who dug peanuts on a large farm around the time that these photographs were taken.

The interview featured Ms. Carrie Simmons Ballard, who was born at Poplar Grove in Pender County in 1905.

The reporter wrote:

“As a child, she ‘put in many hours picking peanuts on The Big Lot’ where her great-grandmother was the main house servant for the Foy family. Her grandmother and mother also worked for the family. ‘They grew some cotton too, but the main farm product was peanuts,’ she said.

“‘I never did much cotton picking, but I sure did my share in the peanut fields…..’”

Ms. Ballard went on to say, “The thing that stands out most in my mind was how hard we worked for so little. It seemed like we had to work so hard for just some food and barely something to wear.”

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In this photograph, we see what is apparently the same Edenton peanut farm, but three years earlier. In the foreground, we get an especially good look at the “shocks” that were typical of peanut farming in that day.

As field workers dug the peanut vines and pods out of the ground, they would place stakes in the ground and build up stacks of vines and pods around the stakes so that the pods could cure before threshing. Those mounds of peanut vines were called “shocks.”

Farmers typically left the shocks in the field and let the peanuts cure for five or six weeks before threshing began. To this day, some old-timers brook no doubt that peanuts cured in shocks are more flavorful than those cured in windrows, the more modern way.

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This is another photograph of threshing time at the farm near Edenton.

In this case, we can see workers operating a mechanical thresher, usually called a picker, in the center of the photograph. However, I was really drawn to this photograph because it highlights the peanut shocks stretched out in the field behind the threshers.

A field full of peanut shocks was a sight to see, reflecting endless hours of toil. In the largest fields, such as this one, they always remind me of the scenes in “Anna Karenina” of threshing time in the Russian countryside.

-4-

After the peanuts had cured, farm workers pulled up the stakes and raked up the hay, as it was called, being careful to stay clear of the snakes and rats that were notoriously fond of them.

Horses or mules would then cart the hay to a stationary mechanical picker that operated in the field.

The 1940s was a moment in history when tractors and mules often worked side by side in Eastern North Carolina’s fields.

Even as late as 1940, only about 4% of the state’s farmers owned tractors. Even a large, comparatively prosperous farmer, as the owner of his field must have been, was unlikely to have more than the one tractor, which, as we will see, this farmer was using to power his mechanical picker.

The end of the Age of Mules was nigh, but it had not yet arrived on the eve of the Second World War.

-5-

Here we see workers unloading hay next to the mechanical picker in our peanut field outside Edenton.

On the right, we can see a pile of stakes that have already been stripped of their vines. On the left, a man is stitching up a burlap bag of peanuts that have just come out of the picker.

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By the time this photograph was taken, at least larger peanut farmers were using pickers such as this one that were powered by long belts attached to the back axel of a farm truck or, in this case, a tractor.

Even a few years earlier, horses or mules would have done the job.

-7-

This photograph provides a closer look at the farm’s mechanical peanut picker, a machine that was designed to break up the hay, remove the peanuts from the vines, and shake out debris and dust. It was a technology that had just come into widespread use in the previous two decades.

An unschooled African American farmer and inventor named Benjamin Hicks, in Southampton County, Virginia, filed what is believed to be the first patent for a mechanical peanut picker in 1901.

By all accounts, Hicks cobbled his ingenious machine together with a blacksmith’s anvil, tool box, and carpenter’s tools.

At least two makers of farm equipment modeled their peanut pickers on Hicks’ design, one of them without his consent.

To learn more about that patent dispute and about Benjamin Hicks, see Anna Zeide’s recent article in the journal Agricultural History, “The Dignity of Invention: Race, Intellectual Property, and Peanut Agriculture, 1900-1920.”

-8-

In this photograph, we see one of the many young field workers that labored in this farm’s fields during the peanut harvest.

The mechanical thresher separated out the peanuts, emptying them into galvanized tin tubs. This worker is carrying the nuts to other field hands who will bag them, stitch the bag shut, and load the bags onto a truck.

At that time, the average wage for agricultural workers on the East Coast of the U.S. was $1.20 a day.

As part of the New Deal, President Franklin Roosevelt and the U.S. Congress had enacted important child labor reforms during the Great Depression. Those laws specifically exempted children who worked on farms.

By one estimate, half a million children were working in America’s fields in 1938.

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In this photograph, we see another young field worker emptying a pail of peanuts into a burlap bag, while another, older man stitches a bag shut and makes it ready for shipment.

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The farm workers next loaded the bags of peanuts onto a truck that would carry them into one of the two peanut processing plants in Edenton.

Note the sea of peanut shocks in the distance. They seem to go on forever.

On the upper left, we can see the dust rising up from the mechanical picker as it separates the vines and peanuts.

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Once the peanuts had been separated, laborers carted away the peanut hay usually for use as livestock feed.

Farmers valued peanut hay as an especially good feed for hogs.

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I am not exactly sure what is happening in this scene, but I suspect that we are looking at a small hay baler or a presser that flattened and compacted the vines after they passed through the picker. Farmers sometimes used such machines to  make it easier to store the hay for use as livestock fodder.

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A large part of the peanuts harvested on that north side of the Albemarle Sound ended up here, at the Albemarle Peanut Co.’s plant in Edenton. Located on a bay that is on the north side of Albemarle Sound, Edenton is the county seat of Chowan County, and at that time had a population of just under 4,000 citizens.

At the time these photographs were taken, Edenton was home to two peanut processing plants, the Albemarle Peanut Co. and the Edenton Peanut Co.

By 1935, according to the Greensboro News & Record on Aug. 16, 1935, the two companies were handling a total of some 25,000,000 pounds of peanuts a year.

The plant’s workers shelled, cleaned and bagged peanuts for farmers near Edenton and the rest of Chowan County, as well as peanuts harvested from farms in surrounding counties.

According to a number of accounts, you could tell when the plant was operating from some distance because a haze of smoke blanketed North Edenton when the plant was fueling its boilers with discarded peanut shells.

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Here we see a great pile of peanuts waiting to be cleaned and graded at the Albemarle Peanut Co.

These workers are stacking freshly arrived, 100-pound bags of peanuts, still in the shell, in the company’s warehouse.

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In this photograph, we see one of the Albemarle Peanut Co.’s hands lifting a bag of unshelled peanuts at the company’s warehouse.

He may be adding the bag to the stockpile or he may be taking the bag off the pile and loading it onto the handcart on the right so that he can carry it into the mill’s shelling and cleaning rooms.

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This gentleman is emptying bags of peanuts so that they can be placed on conveyor belts for cleaning and grading.

Like many of the other photographs of peanut farming and peanut processing in the state-managed collection, this photograph was taken in 1941, quite likely just a few weeks or even days before Pearl Harbor.

Long before that time though, U.S. war planners had begun planning how to adjust the nation’s crop production to compensate for expected wartime disruptions in the agricultural supply chain.

They did so with an eye both toward meeting the country’s domestic food needs and toward fulfilling the country’s Lend-Lease Act agreements with Great Britain and other allied countries.

According to the Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta, the war cut off 68% of the nation’s supply of imported vegetable oils within a year of this photograph.

That was an issue of concern to American consumers, but in some cases it was also a concern for the U.S. military.

Just to cite one example, the bulk of the palm oil used in the United States to produce nitroglycerine for military uses had come from the Philippines prior to the beginning of World War II.

However, that supply of palm oil was completely cut off when Japan occupied the the Philippines in May 1942.

Looking for substitutes for imported oils, the Federal Reserve Bank of Atlanta’s Monthly Review July 31, 1942, noted, “a widespread program was launched, calling for increases in production of lard, tallow, cottonseed oil, peanut oil, soy beans, and other fats and oils.”

The article goes on to say, “Farmers in the South. . .  are taking an important part in this program by expanding the production of peanuts.”

At the time this photograph was taken, military planners had just announced a federal program to expand the country’s peanut acreage by 83 percent, roughly half of which would be set aside for use as oil.

Later in the war, the government would push to raise the country’s peanuts acreage by another 50%, all of which left peanut farmers and the workers at the Albemarle Peanut Co. with little time to rest.

As part of the wartime effort to increase peanut production, the USDA even arranged to rent mechanical pickers and threshers to farmers at a low fee in order help them increase peanut acreage.

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Here we see young women removing flawed or shriveled peanuts from a conveyor belt at the Albemarle Peanut Co.

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This is a view of some of the chain belts that powered the conveyors at the Albemarle Peanut Co.

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During the Great Depression, times were hard in Edenton, as they were throughout most of the North Carolina coast.

Somewhere between a quarter and a half of the town’s citizens were on some kind of public relief. Unemployment rose above 25%. Few could afford doctors or medicines. In many homes, mothers and fathers struggled to keep food on the table. Many cut back, trying to get by on one meal a day.

Far too many grew far too acquainted with hunger and malnutrition.

Against that background, the success of the two local peanut plants — no matter how hard the work, no matter how poorly it paid — was one of the few bright spots in Edenton’s business scene.

In the words of the Raleigh News & Observer Jan. 19, 1933,  the two plants were “a great help to the destitute condition of many Edenton families.”

Between them, the Albemarle Peanut Co. and the Edenton Peanut Co. employed some 150 to 200 workers in season and the peanut industry overall was one of the town’s largest employers.

In this photograph, one of the Albemarle Peanut Co.’s workers is sewing up burlap bags of peanuts to prepare them for shipment.

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In this photograph, we see one of the Albemarle Peanut Co.’s workers carting bags of peanuts out to the plant’s loading dock.

Looking back now, the transformation of Eastern North Carolina’s economy that occurred in the scant few years between the earliest photograph in this group– during the Great Depression in 1937– and the last, on the eve of World War II, was almost breathtaking.

As the nation prepared for war, massive federal investments in the construction of military installations, defense industries, and shipyards especially on the North Carolina coast– and a tremendous infusion of federal dollars into supporting agriculture– proved to be a life-changing moment for countless families and for the future of the region.

During the Great Depression, incredibly high unemployment and the collapse of crop prices had been devastating for Eastern North Carolina.

That all changed during the war. By 1943, the War Department had actually declared the whole region to be a “labor shortage zone,” a designation that meant that the federal government should not target the area for other military projects out of concern that there might not be an adequate supply of civilian labor to build or support them.

Even as early as 1941, when many of these photographs were taken, a general shortage of rural labor was being felt throughout Eastern North Carolina, and the federal government’s push for increasing peanut acreage was one of many special challenges.

To address that wartime labor shortage– and regrettably, also to resist demands from African American workers to raise wages and improve working conditions– peanut farmers in northeastern North Carolina often turned to migrant farm workers and to German and Italian POWs.

In 1943, for example, the War Manpower Commission recommended that 1,500 POWs be sent to northeastern North Carolina for the peanut harvest. Five hundred Italian POWs were assigned just to the peanut harvest in Bertie, Hertford, and Martin counties.

That same year, a temporary camp for Italian POWS was erected at a baseball field in Tarboro, in Edgecombe County, just to supply labor for the local peanut harvest.

An article in the Durham Herald-Sun indicated that the Italian POWs at the Tarboro camp were mainly from Sicily and from Italy’s colonies in North Africa – so they may have included men from what are now Libya, Ethiopia, Eritrea, and/or Somalia.

The next year, 1944, state records indicated that POWs alone harvested a total of 9,141 acres of peanuts in Eastern North Carolina. Asheville Citizen Times, Feb. 22, 1945.

For most of the war, the Farm Security Administration, or FSA, also directed migrant laborers to the region’s peanut fields.

In the fall of 1943, the FSA even opened a special government-run migrant labor camp in Enfield, in Halifax County, to house 400-500 peanut harvest workers.

Even as late as the fall of 1945, after the war was over, state and federal manpower agencies diverted hundreds of Bahamian laborers to northeastern North Carolina’s peanut fields.

That year the short-lived Naval Air Station in Edenton also temporarily housed POWs. They were only there during the peanut harvest, then returned to a POW camp in Ahoskie. Salisbury Post, Sept. 4, 1945.

-21-

These may be bags of unshelled peanuts waiting to be carried into the Albemarle Peanut Co.’s plant or they may be bags of processed peanuts waiting to be trucked out or shipped out by railroad.

In that day, a large percentage of the South’s peanut crop as a whole was bound for oil mills and peanut butter factories. Some of the peanuts that came through the Albemarle Peanut Co. no doubt had the same destination.

That said, compared to peanut varieties grown elsewhere, there was an especially high demand for the “Virginia style” peanut variety that was most commonly grown in Tidewater Virginia and in northeastern North Carolina for use as “cocktail peanuts” and for roasting.

In those last days before the war, there was really no telling where these peanuts were bound. Some of them may even have ended up on foreign battlefields, either in the packs of American soldiers or those of soldiers from Great Britain, the Soviet Union, or one of our other allies.

Acknowledgements

I want to extend a special thanks to the USDA’s James Davis III for helping me to interpret the scenes in these photographs. A third-generation peanut farmer in Palmyra, N.C., Mr. Davis was North Carolina’s “Small Farmer of the Year” in 2002 and is now a chief program officer at the USDA’s office in Raleigh.

Mr. Davis told me that some of his knowledge of peanut farming came from his farming days, some from his studies at N.C. A&T, and some from his long years as a county farm agent and director of the USDA’s office in Halifax County, N.C.

Above all, he told me, his most important teachers were his father and grandfather, the latter of whom grew up sharecropping in Edgecombe County, N.C., and ended up buying and operating his own farm in Palmyra just after the Second World War.

I am very grateful for his assistance, and I hope very much that I did justice to his lessons.

Thank you too to Professor Katherine Charron at N.C. State University and the Grant family in Tillery for introducing me to Mr. Davis.

Editor’s note: Coastal Review regularly features the work of North Carolina historian David Cecelski, who writes about the history, culture and politics of the state’s coast. More of his work can be found on his personal website.

Editor’s note: Coastal Review regularly features the work of North Carolina historian David Cecelski, who writes about the history, culture and politics of the state’s coast. More of his work can be found on his personal website.

Today I would like to introduce a series of photo-essays that I will be publishing here over the next few weeks. Each of the photo-essays — some very brief, some longer — will focus on the working lives of people in eastern North Carolina just before, during, and after the Second World War.

The longest of the photo-essays features 22 historical photographs. In the shortest ones, though, I will try to build a story around a much smaller group of photographs, and sometimes only a single picture.

In all cases, I have based my stories on photographs that are part of the North Carolina Department of Conservation and Development Collection at the State Archives in Raleigh.

Between 1937 and 1951, the department photographers created a collective portrait of the state’s farms, industries, and working people. Some of the photographs were used in state publications or shared with magazines and newspapers. The vast majority, though, have not appeared in print.

Few of the photographs have the kind of artistic qualities that we see in the classic tradition of American documentary photography. For example, in the Works Progress Administration, or WPA, photographs of life in America during the Great Depression.

Nonetheless, I find something extremely compelling about them. Perhaps above all, I am drawn to the way that the photographs take us into fields and factories that are rarely if ever included in the stories that we historians tell about the history of North Carolina.

They are not romanticized images of working people. They are more matter of fact, more hard nosed and grittier.

These are images from down by the railroad tracks. From the warehouse district. From the engine room.

From the fields. From the lumberyards. From the textile mills. In one case, even from an actor’s makeup room.

In many of them, you can feel how hot it was, or how cold, the strain of the long days, the dangers that the people in them stood up to, all for the sake of making a living and looking after their families.

In some, you can see the pride that the people in these photographs took in their toil and craftsmanship. In others, you look at the people’s faces and wonder how they kept going.

The photographs that I am featuring are only a very small portion of the historical photographs in the Department of Conservation and Development Collection.

I have chosen to sort them into nearly 20 photo-essays featuring a total of 100 photographs in all.

The photographs that I have chosen were all taken in eastern North Carolina, basically east of I-95 today. Some were taken quite close to where I grew up on the North Carolina coast, a few even look at a sweet potato harvest on my great-uncle’s farm in Carteret County.

Others take us into different fields and factories, mills and migrant camps, remote fishing camps and distant seas.

My choice of photographs may seem eclectic at times. But I picked each photograph, or group of photographs, because I thought that they offered a special window into some important aspect of the history of eastern North Carolina, and because I thought that they led us to interesting stories.

I hope you enjoy all of the photo-essays. I will begin the series sometime in the next few days with the longest, which focuses on photographs of threshers in peanut fields near Edenton, at the end of the Great Depression and in the days just before the Second World War.

Even in that very provincial sounding subject — threshers on a peanut farm — I think you may be surprised where the story leads.

As I worked my way through the photographs from that long ago peanut farm, I was introduced to a host of unexpected stories and working people. Just in those few handfuls of photographs, you will meet Bahamian migrant laborers, POWs from North Africa, a pioneering black inventor from Southampton County, Virginia, and Mr. Peanut, among others.

You may also learn, at least I hope you will, a surprising amount about peanuts, the history of peanut farming, the evolution of farm labor and farm machinery, and the national security crisis that led to the dramatic expansion of peanut farming during the Second World War.

To say nothing of plenty of fun facts about the invention of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and Baby Ruths.

Above all, and all kidding aside, I hope that these stories will help you to look at these men and women, and sometimes mere children, with a sense of kinship, a feeling of brotherhood and sisterhood.

Next in the series: “In the Peanut Fields of Edenton, 1937-41”

The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration has awarded the state a $2.5 million grant for shoreline restoration and coastal resiliency at Brunswick Town/Fort Anderson State Historic Site in Winnabow.

The site along the Cape Fear River “has experienced significant shoreline erosion due to severe weather and daily tidal forces from increased vessel traffic on the river. The rapidly diminishing shoreline has resulted in the loss of habitat and worsening flooding conditions in the area,” the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources said this week in a release.

Brunswick was once a major prerevolutionary port on North Carolina’s Cape Fear River but was razed by British troops in 1776 and was never rebuilt. During the Civil War, Fort Anderson was constructed atop the old village site, and served as part of the Cape Fear River defenses below Wilmington before the fall of the Confederacy.

The federal funds will enable the state to continue with a project to build and install a system of wave attenuators to protect the shoreline from erosion. The nature-based approach has proven to reduce wave action, mitigate shoreline erosion, protect wildlife, facilitate the growth of natural habitat, and safeguard historical resources still buried at the site, according to the state.

“It is important to protect both our state’s rich history and its cultural resources. I am proud to have worked with the North Carolina Department of Natural and Cultural Resources to secure this federal funding, protecting the Brunswick Town/Fort Anderson site for generations to come,” Rep. David Rouzer, R-N.C., said in a statement. “By investing in these shoreline restoration and resiliency efforts, we’re not only preserving important history, but also better protecting this historic shoreline and the surrounding community from future natural disasters.”

Rouzer represents North Carolina’s 7th congressional district, which includes Wilmington and much of the southeastern part of the state.

The shoreline restoration project is a collaborative effort between the state’s Department of Natural and Cultural Resources, University of North Carolina Wilmington, and the North Carolina Division of Coastal Management.

“In the last 81 years, Brunswick Town/Fort Anderson has lost over 12 acres of shoreline from accelerating erosion, endangering an untold number of historical and cultural resources,” said North Carolina Historic Sites Director Michelle Lanier. “The good news is, since 2017, Brunswick Town’s living shoreline has become a national model for coastal resiliency. We are thrilled that this critical project will continue thanks to the support of our partners at NOAA.”

Sauerkraut is the only form of fermented vegetable a great many of us are familiar with.

While sauerkraut is a love-it-or-hate-it proposition to most people, fermentation is an ancient and invaluable form of preserving food. Fermentation not only keeps vegetables edible for longer than their growing season, the process of fermenting vegetables, which uses raw instead of cooked veggies, is super healthy for you.

Fermentation relies on the process of lacto-fermentation where beneficial bacteria, primarily Lactobacillus, convert natural sugars in the vegetables into lactic acid.

Lactobacillus, one of the key players in fermentation, are naturally occurring bacteria present on the surface of most vegetables. By consuming the sugars in the veggies and converting them to lactic acid, carbon dioxide and other flavorful compounds, these beneficial bacteria not only preserve veggies but also give them their unique flavor.

A natural preservative, lactic acid works by lowering the pH, which in turn inhibits growth of harmful bacteria.

Since the veggies are fermented raw and in their natural state, more nutrients remain in the finished product. Bonus: Fermenting produces powerful probiotics.

In order to ferment vegetables, you only need a few simple ingredients and containers of some sort. Think … your grandma’s crocks, the light-colored ones with the blue band just under the top rim or the tan-bottomed ones with the brown uppers. Little brown jug, anyone?

Salt.

Water.

Time.

So, if fermenting is easy to do and so good for us, why don’t more people utilize the benefits? It’s possibly because modern people tend to equate “fermented” with “rotten.”

You can ferment practically any veggie. Some, like cabbage, need to be shredded first. Others, like cauliflower, can simply be cut into bite-size pieces.

While crocks are not necessary unless you’re fermenting huge amounts, canning jars will work just fine.

For salt, sea salt is recommended. Not only does it have more minerals, sea salt generally does not contain the anti-caking agents that table salt includes. Table salt can sometimes inhibit the Lactobacillus from thriving. The quantity of salt is especially important. Besides salting to your taste, using too little salt can lead to spoilage from the growth of harmful bacteria. Too much can prevent the formation of beneficial bacteria and lead to no fermentation at all. The salt-to-water ratio is probably the most important aspect of the whole process, and it varies according to the vegetables being preserved.

Brine, or water with salt mixed in it, should be poured over the veggies once they are in your clean crock or jar. Or you can dry-salt juicier veggies and let the salt draw out the juices from within, adding water if needed. Another important part of the fermenting process is making sure all the contents of your crock or jar are submerged. You can purchase glass weights designed for this exact purpose, or you can use any glass or bowl that will keep all the contents submerged while leaving space around the edges for venting. You can even use glass rocks or simply a zippered storage bag filled with brine.

Time is the most consuming part of this. It takes a good deal of time to soften the veggies and get them to the right tanginess. Depending on which veggies you choose, the temperature in your home, and how you want them to taste, fermenting can take a couple days or up to several months.

Speaking of time, salt has been an invaluable currency and trading item for, well, forever.

Modern people don’t pay plain old salt much attention. Everyone has at least one salt shaker in their kitchen, on the table, near the stove, or in the pantry. Some of us get chastised for eating too much salt.

Anyone can go to any grocery store and buy as much salt as they want.

We use salt from everything as glorious as cooking to as lowly as melting ice on roadways.

Once upon a time, although essential for life and preserving foods, salt was scarce unless you lived near a body of saltwater or a naturally occurring salt pan.

Salt provides key elements to keep us healthy, especially if you live in a hot, humid environment and sweat a lot.

Trade routes were developed between salt-producing areas to areas without salt. Using either pack animals or wagons was the main way to transport salt, and that led to the construction of better roads.

Not only did the caravans on the Salt Roads bring salt to people who needed it, they greatly facilitated the spread of knowledge and cultural exchanges.

As early as 1776, saltworks were created around Beaufort and Morehead City. Robert Williams set up a saltworks near Gallant’s Channel. Richard Blackledge set up one on the north side of the Newport River near the mouth of Core Creek. That piece of coastline is still known to locals as “Salt Works.”

These local salt-processing plants relied on our abundance of naturally salty water and worked by either boiling it or simply pouring it into shallow evaporation pans in the sunshine. These Carteret County saltworks played an important part in local history as did others like them up and down the North Carolina coast and beyond.

Many of the old-timers still remember when salted fish was the norm. A wooden barrel was layered with fish and salt until filled — one of the only ways people here had to preserve their fresh catch.

Salt was also invaluable in tanning hides and making leather for shoes and tack and various and sundry other items.

Here in the county, the local saltworks tradition is being carried on by the Atlantic Beach Sea Salt Co. The proprietors, Bill and Kristi Langston, go far offshore and pipe the salty water from 17 fathoms deep — around 102 feet for any landlubbers out there — into their boat tanks.

Once they return to Bogue Banks they use a small-batch method to produce amazing salt that’s chock full of nutrients.

As with baking sourdough — which is also a form of fermentation — fermenting vegetables is once again coming back into favor, and it’s being recognized for its health benefits.

The North Carolina Maritime Museums‘ three locations on the coast house maritime history, coastal heritage and marine environments.

The Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum in Hatteras, the North Carolina Maritime Museum at Beaufort and the North Carolina Maritime Museum at Southport each offer unique exhibits and programs designed for all ages.

The museums highlight maritime and coastal culture including fishermen, boatbuilders and decoy carvers, as well as presents exhibits tell the tales of painters and pirates, shipwrecks and sailboats and marine life and maritime habitat protection. 

“See relics pulled from the deep, build a boat, follow Civil War battles fought along the coast, cast a line and learn about the state’s seafood industry, sail or paddle along waterways, and retrace Blackbeard’s voyages and ultimate demise,” according to the website.

Graveyard of the Atlantic August programs

The Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum in Hatteras is named in honor of the thousands of shipwrecks that rest in the waters off North Carolina’s coast and is dedicated to the preservation and presentation of the state’s coastal and shipwreck history.

Located at at 59200 Museum Drive in Hatteras, the museum is open from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Friday. Admission is free, though donations are appreciated. For more information, visit graveyardoftheatlantic.com or call 252-986-0720.

The programs are being offered at no charge and registration is not required.

Kids Crafts 10:30 a.m. to noon Aug. 4, Aug. 11, Aug. 18 and Aug. 25. Join staff and volunteers from the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum for free crafts on Mondays in the museum library/education space located off the lobby.

Salty Dawgs Lecture Series are held at 11 a.m. every Tuesday and feature presentations on North Carolina maritime history and culture.

Cape Hatteras Lighthouse Aug. 5. Join National Park Service Ranger Ann-Marie to learn about the 1870 Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, which “protects one of the most hazardous sections of the Atlantic Coast,” according to the National Park Service.

Jockeys Ridge State Park Aug. 12. Join North Carolina Park Ranger Austin Paul to learn about the tallest living sand dune system on the Atlantic coast and is located in Dare County.

“Shipwreck Rescues of the Outer Banks” Aug. 19. Join historian James Charlet for the final program in a three-part presentation on his new book, “Shipwreck Rescues of the Outer Banks,” which chronicles the United States Life-Saving Service’s missions and rescues off the North Carolina coast.

“Changing Sands and Rising Seas: The Future of Maritime Heritage” Aug. 26. Maddie Roth, a doctoral candidate in East Carolina University’s Integrated Coastal Sciences Program will discuss opportunities to better understand and preserve shipwreck sites, aids to navigation, and the maritime traditions of the state’s coast.

Beaufort’s August programs

During summer break, the museum offers Summer Science School courses designed to give children hands-on experiences with North Carolina’s environment, history, and culture. Some courses take place outside the main museum building and may involve travel. Advance registration is required, which can be done online.

Summer Science School: Seashore Life II is set for 9 a.m. to noon Aug. 5-7. For fifth and sixth graders, students will investigate estuarine habitats, plants and animals through field and lab studies. The course includes a field trip to the Rachel Carson Reserve, water quality testing, plankton identification and other activities. Class fee is $120, or $108 for Friends of the Museum

Summer Science School: Pirates! 9 a.m. to noon Aug. 7-8. Youngsters entering first and second grades will be able to learn about life at sea and how pirates lived. The crew will build their own boats, set the rules of the ship, and go on a treasure hunt to find the hidden treasure. Class fee is $90, or $81 for Friends of the Museum.

Limited scholarships are available. Email courtney.felton@dncr.nc.gov or call 252-504-7758 for more information.

Though the North Carolina Maritime Museum in Beaufort is currently closed for construction, the Carteret County-based facility will continue to offer programs in the Harvey W. Smith Watercraft Center across the street in the downtown area and other nearby locations.

Build a Boat in a Day 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Aug. 2, Aug. 16 and Aug. 22 in the watercraft center. Teams will assemble a 12-foot-long, flat-bottomed plywood boat from a prepared kit suitable for paddling. Minimum age is 8 and the teams of no more than four people must include at least one adult. Course fee is $650, or $585 for Friends of the Museum members, which sponsors the program. Course size is limited, and registration is required and can be done online or by calling 252-504-7758.

Introduction to Wooden Boat Building 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. Aug. 9-10. Participants will learn about planking methods, both carvel and lapstrake, and use of appropriate fasteners. After two days, you will have the knowledge, skill, and confidence to choose a design and style of boat to build on your own.  Class fee is $200, or $180 for Friends of the Museum. Minimum age is 16. Course size is limited, and registration is required.

Kids’ Cove: Whales 9 to 11 a.m. Aug. 13. The drop-in program for ages 5 and younger and their caregivers takes place in the Beaufort Train Depot at 614 Broad St. Participation is free but registration is preferred.

Hiking and History on Shackleford Banks 9 a.m. to noon Aug. 19. The guided hike on Shackleford Banks, a part of Cape Lookout National Seashore in Carteret County, is for ages 12 and older. Participants will take a ferry to an undeveloped barrier island where they will hike about 1.5 miles along sandy terrain. All those under 18 must be accompanied by an adult. Cost is $35 and $31.50 for Friends of the Museum. Register online by noon the day before the program.

“By Hook or By Crook, Women Pirates Anne Bonny and Mary Read” 11 a.m. Aug. 21. Associate Education Curator Christine Brin will share what is known about the lives of these women, how they came to be pirates, and their fates. This program is part of the museum’s Maritime Heritage Lecture Series that features talks about the rich maritime history, coastal environment and culture. The in-person only talk will take place in the Fort Macon Coastal Education Center in Atlantic Beach. Admission is free. Registration is not required. 

Kayak the Salt Marsh 9 a.m. to noon Aug. 26. Basic kayak instruction and safety lessons on shore are followed by a 1.5-mile paddle through the salt marsh in sit-in cockpit touring kayaks, or bring your own. The program is for ages 12 and older. Participants under 18 must be accompanied by an adult. All must know how to swim and some kayak experience is recommended. Cost is $35 or $30 if you bring your own kayak and $27-31.50 for Friends of the Museum. Register online by noon the day prior to the program.

Southport August programs

The North Carolina Maritime Museum at Southport, which collects, preserves and interprets material culture pertinent to the maritime history of the Lower Cape Fear region.

The location has two public programs scheduled for this month.

Go Fish! is set for 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Aug. 2. part of the Skipper’s Crew series at the Southport facility, which features hands-on activities and take-home crafts focusing on combining arts and history. Participants can fish for a wooden fish swimming in a sea of blue tissue paper, then decorate your fish and take it home. The program is for all ages, but specifically geared toward younger visitors.

Lights will be dimmed and interactive displays muted during the first two hours to provide a calmer environment for those with sensory sensitivities.

Maritime Weapons of the 18^th Century 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. Aug. 16. Join a costumed interpreter at the North Carolina Maritime Museum at Southport to learn about weapons used at sea during the 1700s. The program is part of the museum’s Deep Dive into History series. The free drop-in program is designed to give visitors a deeper understanding of our shared past. Visitors can interact one-on-one with the presenter at any time during the program.

For more information on either program being offered at no charge, visit ncmaritimemuseumsouthport.com or call 910-477-5151.

The first chapter of a recently published book about Ocracoke’s unique dialect begins with the imagined experience of a visitor’s first time taking the ferry from Swan Quarter across Pamlico Sound to Ocracoke Village.

During the trip to the 14-mile-long island only accessible by boat or light aircraft, the visitor decides to explore the ferry, pausing upon hearing a group speak a sort-of familiar dialect they can’t quite place.

“You greet the group and then make the same mistake as hundreds of tourists before you, by asking ‘Where are y’all from?’ The response, ‘right here,’ accompanied by uproarious laughter, leaves you disoriented,” the scenario continues.

The mistake is “so frequent that it is part of island lore, passed down by O’Cockers – Ocracoke residents who trace back their family lineage on the island for generations.”

This encounter in the first chapter of “Language and Life on Ocracoke: The Living History of the Brogue,” sets the scene for an exploration into the once-prominent dialect now only spoken by a few hundred on the island.

Published by UNC Press, authors are North Carolina State University English professors Jeffrey Reaser and Walt Wolfram, and Ocracoke Preservation Society board member Candy Gaskill, a fourth-generation resident.

“With this prolonged and comprehensive approach to the region, the authors document the island’s changes, providing readers with a deeply researched, empathetic, and engagingly written snapshot of one of North Carolina’s most cherished places, one with a linguistic heritage worth celebrating,” UNC Press said in a release.

Wolfram told Coastal Review in an interview that he really wants people to understand that Ocracoke had this rich legacy of language.

“What’s Ocracoke famous for? Well, it’s famous for Blackbeard,” Wolfram said about the pirate that was beheaded on the island in 1718. “It’s also famous for its language,” but O’Cockers are losing this tradition that has been a part of the island culture for centuries.

The dialect was “once an iconic trait of the 200-mile chain of Outer Banks islands” but is “now merely a whisper in the region.” Now, there are less than 200 who speak some semblance of the traditional brogue, the book states, and “there are sure signs that the traditional Brogue will soon become extinct.”

Wolfram said he thinks “there are certain things that are strongly associated with that community, and the language has been one of them, and now it’s threatened. What the book does is remind them of that tradition. So in a sense, (the brogue) will be remembered with examples even when it is almost gone.”

This is their third book on Ocracoke and builds on Wolfram’s 1997 “Hoi Toide On The Outer Banks: The Story of the Ocracoke Brogue.” “Hoi Toide” is the brogue pronunciation of high tide — the long i vowel is pronounced as “oy” – and is the origin of the nickname, hoi toiders.

Reaser said in an interview that they “really wanted this to be the first linguistics beach read” and be a bit of an introduction to the linguistics, which is the study of language and structure, to make it accessible for all audiences.

The book is broken up into 24 short chapters, which can be read in any order, and touch on what the brogue is and who speaks it, if the brogue is Shakespearean English or if it’s pirate talk, how to study language, accents and dialects, about African American and Latino communities on Ocracoke, the weather, how the language is evolving, and speculation on how the brogue will evolve, or disappear.

The brogue isn’t Elizabethan, by the way, and it’s “not just pirate talk” (their emphasis) despite Ocracoke’s ties with Blackbeard.

What is it then? The short answer is that the “primary finding was that it was an English dialect that had been influenced by Gaelic languages and other English dialects that had previously been influenced by Gaelic languages.”

“We’re focused on Ocracoke, and we want to preserve and celebrate that dialect and that tradition, but there is another purpose of just getting people to understand more generally, that this is how languages work, this is how dialects work. That they’re always patterned and systematic,” Reaser explained. “Even when there’s a dialect that isn’t celebrated the way that Ocracoke tends to be, that is something that people should take seriously and value.”

Of special note is the companion website with more than 80 QR codes that link to sound or video clips on ocracokebrogue.com, all pulled from their extensive collection of oral histories, media clips, documentary footage and other materials.

“You don’t want to just read about it, you want to hear what it actually sounds like,” Wolfram said.

A peek between the pages

Many of the chapters are based on stories from villagers, such as the first chapter, “Do they take American money over there?” That’s coming straight from the O’Cockers’ stories, Reaser said.

There’s even an anecdote in the book about a British Broadcasting Co. crew that traveled to Ocracoke with the intention of having residents recite lines from Shakespeare’s plays.

Reaser said that having the BBC visit was a “really funny experience,” because they were sure the story was that Ocracoke had preserved Elizabethan English.

“We’re trying to tell them otherwise,” he said, and tried to direct their attention to how interesting the community is with its “really rich mix of all these historical traditions,” but they stuck with their story.

“They actually had the complete works of Shakespeare, and they’re trying to get locals to read it,” he said, expecting it to sound like they were at the Globe Theater, “which is so insulting.”

So, some of the performers in the community recognized what was happening, and decided to put on their best British accent, and overdo the stage performance.

“What the BBC captured was something that’s not even close to the local dialect,” Reaser said, but they aired it, and they must have received enough feedback because you can’t find it anywhere on their website. An updated version has been released but it still pushes the Elizabethan myth.

Wolfram said the publication features stories that people aren’t necessarily aware of as well, like the prominence of the one African American family that moved there in 1865 and maintained the family as a unit until the late 2000s, and how men’s and women’s speech patterns were affected by changing economic drivers, namely the village increasingly depending on tourism.

“We want people to remember how the Black family fit and didn’t fit into the community,” Wolfram said.

Women were in the service industry as tourism grew for the village while men continued to focus on water-related work, Reaser said. The brogue then became “crystallized as this artifact of masculinity, where it never had that in the past.”

Appreciating Ocracoke

Wolfram first heard about Ocracoke as a new professor at N.C. State in 1992.

In the acknowledgement, Wolfram explained that he and his wife decided to travel the state to experience different communities. While explaining these trips to his colleagues, another faculty member told him to “take a trip to Ocracoke, where ‘the people speak Elizabethan English.’”

Wolfram said he recognized the comment to be a “simplified romantic myth often associated with long-term isolated language varieties such as Appalachian English, but I was intrigued.”

That first trip was the catalyst to him devoting more than three decades and taking hundreds of trips to the island to learn more about the village’s families and their history.

When Reaser was a graduate student at N.C. State in 2000, he joined Wolfram on a trip and became just as enthralled with Ocracoke.

The two emphasized how grateful they are to have been welcomed over the years.

There’s a real love of the community and people who live there. “They’re so generous to us. It’s an incredible experience,” Reaser said.

Wolfram said the residents “have been incredibly collaborative and cooperative with us, and we can’t thank them enough for that.”

He feels that when researchers study a community, it’s nice for academics and their reputation, “but we want it to be meaningful” for the communities who give their time and resources.

“We do these sorts of sophisticated analyzes, but what does the community get out of it?” Wolfram continued, explaining that he finds it “ethically inappropriate” when academics go to a community for information and never see them again.

People need to know what you’re doing with the stories, histories and cultures they share with you, and how what you’re doing can help the community, Wolfram said, adding he and his team try to help with any project or program they can as a way to thank the community for “being so generous in terms of talking to us, working with us, and allowing us in.”

HARKERS ISLAND — It takes countless hours of work for the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum and Heritage Center to fulfill its mission of preserving Down East Carteret County’s heritage.

Located next to Cape Lookout National Seashore’s visitor center on Shell Point, offering on most days a view of the diamond-patterned lighthouse across the sound, the museum spotlights the history and traditions of the 13 unincorporated communities in the eastern part of the county through exhibits, programs and events.

While Executive Director Karen Willis Amspacher and about a dozen volunteers were busy setting up the morning of July 3 for the annual All-American Shrimp Fry taking place that Saturday, July 5, she told Coastal Review that “It’s the work that makes this place what it is” and the museum “was built on volunteers.”

From converting an old doctor’s office to the gift shop housed in the facility, clearing land and pulling stumps from Willow Pond behind the museum, to creating beautiful quilts and feeding thousands fresh local seafood and sweet puppies, “Core Sound has always been and still is — and hopefully will always be — grounded in the hard work, talents and dedication of the people of our community,” she explained.

So, when Gov. Josh Stein inducted Amspacher and nine others June 25 into the Order of the Long Leaf Pine, the highest civilian honor in the state, she didn’t tell a soul.

Amspacher, who has been leading Core Sound since it was established in 1992, had been in Raleigh that last week of June with others fighting against a proposed law that would ban commercial shrimp trawling in the state’s inland waters and within a half-mile of the shore. The House chose not to push the contentious bill through.

She was reluctant to accept the award at the time because, she said, it wasn’t only her who had made the museum a success, and didn’t feel like a time to celebrate. Amspacher decided to meet with the governor anyway because it was a chance to speak to him about the proposed trawling ban.

She wrote in a social media post a week later a “confession of guilt for accepting something good that belongs to everybody that I have mommicked all along the way.”

Amspacher thanked everyone for their congratulations, “but know … WE have accomplished NOTHING alone. Since I moved back home in 1982 it’s been quite a journey, thank you to everyone who is still holding on for our fishing communities no matter what it takes,” she wrote, adding that she hopes her daughter, Katie, remembers when she “puts me in the ground on #redhill under those oaks to post a sign somewhere .. ‘Work is love made visible.’ I believe that … I do love ‘my crowd’ … and love means work.”

Amspacher paused between tasks the morning of July 3 to reiterate that she’s truly grateful for all of the volunteers, especially the young ones “who keep showing up to do the work it takes to keep the museum’s work moving forward.”

Her “shrimp boys” Liam Calabria, Nick Davies and Jackson Saunders, were among those setting up tables and chairs. The three best friends grew up together in Raleigh.

Calabria explained during a break that the nickname came from when he and his older brother, who is in college now, began helping at Core Sound about five years ago.

The first few years, “We had to clean all the shrimp, so that was the main focus, and then we would just help out where need be,” Calabria said. “Now we set up all the tables, chairs, water stations, and we’ve helped serve the food recently, and that’s the fun part because we make​ it a friendly competition.”

His family began in 2020 splitting their time between Carteret County and the state capital, in the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic.

When Core Sound decided to hold the shrimp fry again after pausing during the pandemic, Calabria said that his brother, who was in ninth grade at the time, needed volunteer hours and wanted to help the community.

“I decided to tag along with him,” and his family decided to continue to help. “Now, we started dragging our friends along,” Calabria explained, gesturing to Davies and Saunders.

Davies started helping about three years ago. Currently attending Wake Tech Community College, Davies said it’s “a lot of fun” at Core Sound and he gets to spend time with his best friends.

This is the first year for Saunders, who said he decided to join because he needed some community service hours for scholarships, and “thought it’d be fun to hang out with my friends. So I was just like, why not tag along?”

Calabria added, “We just love the community, and we’ve made a lot of friends and connections through Harkers Island over the five years we’ve lived here, so we just like to see them enjoying the time here and meeting up with some friends.”

Nearby, high school senior Thomas Lathan was helping his grandfather Bill Lathan, a board member for more than 20 years, hang banners that thanked the shrimp fry’s sponsors.

Thomas Lathan has helped at past events, but this is his first summer as an intern. He’s been working with a doctoral student to interview residents about their experiences with tropical storms and how the natural disasters affect and change the culture. He plans to present the findings when he’s done.

Bill Lathan, who still works full time as an attorney in New Bern, said he heads to Harkers Island whenever he’s available and decided to join Thomas that Thursday to help.

Amspacher explained in a later interview that many of the youth that help have been volunteering as shrimp cleaners and trash collectors since they came with their parents and grandparents when they were 9 and 10 years old.

“Now they are high school and college students and they are returning as interns and as the ‘power’ behind our events and projects. They care and each of them know they are part of us and always will be,” she said. “Troop 252 of Davis has been part of our events from the first year we were in this building in 1999. Many of them have children who are now Scouts, doing what they did.”

After the event, Amspacher told Coastal Review that the shrimp fry was a success. This year highlighted the Crystal Coast Water Rescue Team who traveled to Black Mountain during Helene response in fall 2024 and welcomed the Black Mountain Fire Department who called on Carteret County for help.

Core Sound has been reaching out to leaders in the mountains since Hurricane Helene caused untold destruction last fall to the western part of the state to help cope with the destruction and heartache.

Recognizing “our water rescue team traveling to help Black Mountain Fire Department was the same story. The shared experience, the bond that tragedy builds, the ever-knowing that we are all one storm away from needing them to come help us was heavy on everyone there. It was a moment that we will all hold dear,” said Amspacher. “The All-American Shrimp Fry is just that: communities coming together to celebrate our homes, our families and the traditions we hold sacred from across North Carolina.”

The Outer Banks are known for vast, uncrowded beaches, towering lighthouses, and unique cottages, and while these features beckon millions of visitors, some Outer Banks communities are not as well-known.

Rather than towns, most communities here are unincorporated villages, each home to residential homes and unobtrusive tourist accommodations, a few businesses, and a post office. Hatteras may be one of the best known of these villages.

While it is much smaller than incorporated coastal towns like Beaufort or Edenton, Hatteras is home to centuries of history and a number of notable sites, particularly on the southwest tip of its namesake island.

Hatteras Island was populated in the 16th century by the Croatoan Native Americans. They hunted, fished and ate oysters, depositing the shells in massive middens that are one of the few remaining visible indicators of where they lived. They were one of the many Native peoples that the Roanoke Colony interacted with in the 1580s.

The Croatans allied with the Europeans and counted among their numbers Manteo, the first Native American christened by the English in the New World. They factor into the story of the Lost Colony, since Hatteras Island was one of the many areas where the colonists were rumored to have gone after leaving Roanoke. Due to the shifting sands of Hatteras and the lack of definitive records, the fate of the colonists remains a mystery to this day.

Europeans returned to the area in the middle of the 17th century. Historian David Stick notes in his book, “The Outer Banks of North Carolina,” that the first documented English settlers on Hatteras Banks, Patrick Mackuen and William Reed, likely arrived there by 1711. People on Hatteras lived by fishing, farming, and piloting boats. They also took cargo from the many shipwrecks that regularly washed ashore from the Graveyard of the Atlantic.

Despite a growing number of families living on Hatteras, the area was slow to develop as a proper town. Isolated and accessible only by water, Hatteras did not abut one of the major inlets that was open during the colonial period. As a result, it was ignored by the same legislative assemblies that facilitated town construction at nearby Portsmouth and Ocracoke islands. Although numerous people resided on the southwestern portion of the island by the late 18th century, colonial maps often showed just the empty banks and the cape. The area known today as Hatteras Village finally gained its first post office in 1858.

Hatteras remained mostly isolated through the 18th and early 19th centuries. But while it did not have obvious economic importance, it did have military significance to any group wanting to approach or protect North Carolina by water. This led to the construction of Confederate forts Hatteras and Clark on Hatteras Inlet in 1861.

The forts were surrendered to Union in the first combined action of the Army and Navy during the Civil War. This success, the first by Union Gen. Ambrose Burnside, helped the Union gain control of the North Carolina coast and allowed for future invasions of Roanoke Island and the eastern part of the state.

The post-Civil War period saw the emergence of coastal life-saving stations. These buildings housed crews organized to rescue victims from shipwrecks using the latest technology, such as the Lyle gun used to shoot rescue lines.

Three U.S. Life-saving Service stations lined Hatteras Island by 1905, from Durants near the village to Cape Hatteras at the eastern end of the island. Along with greater lifesaving capabilities came a new effort at political organization. Dare County, one of the last counties formed in North Carolina, was created in 1870 from what had been parts of Currituck, Hyde and Tyrrell counties to help administer the far-flung islands of the Outer Banks. Its southern boundary was the western tip of Hatteras Island.

The modern village of Hatteras began to develop in the early 20th century. Locals built a string of houses such as the Ellsworth and Lovie Ballance House, circa 1915, one of the oldest structures in the village and a survivor of numerous hurricanes over the past century, according to state historic preservation records. The house was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 2001.

Growth came mainly from tourism. Greater rail and automobile transportation helped more and more visitors reach the beach from such areas as Raleigh, Charlotte and northern cities. More tourists meant an increase in ferry traffic and the growth of roads that made those ferries accessible, such as the highway that became U.S. 264 connecting Belhaven, Swan Quarter and U.S. Highway 64 near Manns Harbor.

In the 1930s, the conservation movement also brought nature tourism to the island through the authorization of the Cape Hatteras National Seashore in 1937, one of the first seashore-protection programs in the country. Conservation protected a unique ecosystem that continues to bring thousands of birding, fishing, and native plant enthusiasts each year. 

With these dynamics in place, Hatteras became a popular vacation destination. Thousands flocked to the coast every summer and engaged in new recreational activities such as surfing and kiteboarding. Demand led to new transportation outlets. The state began to pave roads on Hatteras Island in the 1950s, but it was the completion of the Herbert S. Bonner Bridge in 1963 that provided a direct land connection between Hatteras and the rest of the country.

Soon, the island became home to shops, restaurants and hotels, as well as the familiar fishing shacks and isolated tourist cottages. A 1990 New York Times travel article that praised Hatteras Island’s beach as “one of the loveliest on the East Coast,” also singled out the village for offering “the color of a commercial fishing hub.”

Hatteras has become one of the most popular tourist destinations on the East Coast, growth that has fundamentally altered life in the sleepy fishing village. About 500 residents now live in Hatteras Village fulltime. There are about a dozen restaurants, several seafood markets, general stores, visitor centers, and the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum. A number of these businesses operate year-round and cater to both locals and the summer influx of tourists.

Despite these changes, residents largely are thankful that Hatteras retains much of its village charm.

Patricia Peele, a lifelong resident of the island, told Coastal Review that as recently as 15 years ago, it was like “they used to roll the streets up at 9 p.m. on Labor Day.”

Now, there are always tourists, filling a plethora of mini-hotels across the island. But Peele said that despite the changes, she knows that Hatteras is still secluded compared to the rest of the Outer Banks. It is “not built up like a lot of other places are,” and with the protections provided by the National Park Service, growth will likely remain limited.

Still, Hatteras Village faces many of the same challenges as the rest of the Outer Banks, including those related to rising sea levels, limited resources and strong coastal storms.

The Basnight Bridge, which replaced the Bonner Bridge when the 2.8-mile, $254 million project was completed in 2019, keeps Hatteras Island connected to the mainland, and no matter the challenges, people of Hatteras will likely continue to adapt to life on their ocean sandbar — just as they always have.

Editor’s note: Coastal Review regularly features the work of North Carolina historian David Cecelski, who writes about the history, culture and politics of the state’s coast. More of his work can be found on his personal website.

One day I hope that I will know more about Betty Town, a free African American community that white raiders destroyed just before the Civil War to make way for the founding of Aurora.

Now and then, when I have had time, I have done a fair bit of historical research on the people of Betty Town, how their land was taken, and how the community’s people were driven out of their homes.

But there is still much that I do not know. Many of the historical sources are opaque, some of them are difficult to understand, and none tell us what happened from the point of view of the people who lived in Betty Town.

I wish that I had to time to work through those difficulties. But the truth is, my life has somehow gotten far busier than I ever thought it would be at this age: I fear that I will never find the time to do justice to Betty Town’s history.

For that reason, I want to share here what I know now about Betty Town. That way, if other people are interested, maybe they will pick up where I have left off and go further.

Perhaps, after reading this, a younger scholar or a precocious student will take it on, or maybe even a descendant of those who lost their land and homes.

For me the voices of the people of Betty Town are like the fading sounds of whispers in the night. I catch a few words here, and a few words there, but it is always better if more people are listening.

Together we can share what we hear and maybe, just maybe, the story of Betty Town will not be lost.

‘Where the bear, free negro and wild cat roamed’

So I will go first. Here is what I know about Betty Town, the free African American community that used to be on the North Carolina coast, only 30 miles from where I grew up:

First, Betty Town was a rural settlement of free African Americans located on South Creek, 22 miles southeast of the town of Washington, in Beaufort County.

The community was a remote refuge from the evils of the day. Writing in the Feb. 4, 1886, Goldsboro Messenger, one former visitor remembered Betty Town as a land “where the bear, free negro and wild cat roamed at their own free will.”

Another white commentator, also writing after the Civil War, gives us a hint that at least some whites saw Betty Town’s independence and self-reliance as somewhat menacing.

Published in Raleigh’s Weekly Observer on Aug. 10, 1877, that writer declared that Betty Town and its vicinity had been a shady place up until 1857 or 1858.

That part of Beaufort County, the writer declared, was “regarded as an almost worthless swamp except for shingles and staves; the ridges being inhabited for the most part by a thriftless set of free negroes and half-breed Indians.”

That is the way that the state’s white leaders, at least many of them, used to talk about the communities of free, mixed-race people that were located in many different parts of North Carolina’s coastal plain.

In general, they were people set apart and who guarded their freedom, since they knew all too well that it could be taken away if they were not watchful. Nearly all lived off the land — farming, fishing, working in the woods.

The site of Betty Town is now the location of Aurora, a small town that, as the saying goes, has seen better days.

Betty Town’s 18th-century origins

The origin of Betty Town dates at least to the late 18th century and to a free African American couple named Isaiah and Betty Hodge. (Betty Hodge was the community’s namesake.)

The first U.S. census was taken in 1790. At that time, the Hodge family was already residing on South Creek.

In that first federal census of 1790, a “Zear” Hodge, Isaiah or possibly Isaiah’s father, is listed as the head of a household that included four people of color and a white woman.

At that time, Isaiah Hodge would have been 15 years old. He was born in or about 1775.

The Hodges’ neighbors included a sizeable cluster of other free people of color. They included families with the last names of Blango, Johnston, Holmes and Keys, among others.

Exactly how long that group of free African Americans had been in that part of Beaufort County is not clear to me.

However, I did consult the work of master genealogist Paul Heinigg, one of the leading authorities on the history of free African Americans in Virginia and North Carolina.

Heinigg’s research indicates that several free Black families left southeastern Virginia and settled in what became Betty Town and neighboring parts of southeastern Beaufort County earlier in the 1700s.

They included Blangos, Driggers, Perkinses, Moores, and Johnsons (or Johnstons), at the very least.

 A free African American named Thomas Blango, for example, had settled in Beaufort County by 1701, and Blango family genealogists still trace the family’s roots in the county specifically to Betty Town.

Family Blango

According to Stanton Allen’s “Family Blango: A Study of Black American Genealogy,” three free African Americans families with the surname Blango resided at Betty Town in the early 1800s: those of John Blango, John Blango, Jr., and Mrs. Peggy Blango.

Stanton Allen’s article appeared in Bayboro-based The Pamlico News on Aug. 24, 1983.

By the 1810 census, Isaiah Hodge is listed as head of the Hodge household. Eleven others resided with him: 10 free Blacks and one individual who was enslaved, though apparently not by the Hodges.

Thirty years later, Isaiah Hodges is listed in the federal census as head of a household with 15 members, all free, and presumably including children and perhaps grandchildren, and maybe others, too.

(Census takers did not begin to enumerate individual names, other than heads of households, until 1850.)

By 1850, the last census before his death, Isaiah Hodge, then age 75, was listed as the head of a household that included his wife Elizabeth (Betty), three younger adults with the surname Hodge, and an enslaved mother and her five children.

Judging from the census, nine other households of free African Americans lived around them, presumably in what was considered “Betty Town.” They included families with the surnames of Tyson, Hagins, Perkins, Driggers, and maybe Simpsons.

(Judging by their listing in the census, the Simpsons may have resided in a nearby, but slightly different neighborhood).

When I reviewed the Beaufort County deeds at the State Archives, I failed to get a clear picture of Betty Town’s boundaries.

However, the deeds did indicate that Isaiah Hodge alone owned at least 300 acres on both sides of South Creek in the early part of the 19^th century.

Betty Town’s boundaries may have been confined to the Hodge family’s holdings. Or the Hodge lands may have been only the heart of a larger territory that local people called Betty Town.

If Betty Town was confined to the Hodge family holdings, I would suspect that other families also resided on their land and that most of them would have been at least distantly related to Isaiah and Betty Hodge.

Figuring out those relationships will require more genealogical research, but one thing is clear: On the eve of the Civil War, Betty Town was a small but significant enclave of free African Americans that had survived in that part of Beaufort County since the 18^th century.

The Free African Americans of South Creek

The free African Americans who lived in Betty Town were not alone. They were among a sizable minority of free African Americans who resided in that part of Beaufort County.

In the South Creek census district as a whole, free African Americans made up more than a quarter of the total free population in 1850.

According to the census, the South Creek district had a total population of 1,092 persons in 1850. That included 209 free Blacks, 294 enslaved people of color, and 589 free whites.

However, even if Betty Town and similar communities were refuges in some ways, that did not mean that they were safe.

The decade of the 1850s, as the people of Betty Town discovered, was an especially dangerous time to be a free African American in Beaufort County or anywhere on the North Carolina coast.

‘A Free Negro Named Isaiah Hodge’

According to census records, local deeds, and newspaper accounts, Betty Town had vanished by the beginning of the Civil War.

All historical sources that I have seen agree on the basic facts of what happened to Betty Town. First, they agree that one of Beaufort County’s wealthiest and most influential white political leaders claimed to have forcibly taken legal possession of the community’s land sometime in 1857 or 1858.

Even in white circles, it seems to have been acknowledged that the taking of Betty Town’s land was accomplished by legal chicanery.

Second, at least a significant part of Betty Town’s residents, including the Hodge family, refused to abandon their homes.

Third, the holdouts were eventually driven out of Betty Town not by lawful authorities, but by vigilantes.

That much seems clear. Many details do not seem clear to me at all, however. The historical accounts are relatively few, they clash in some cases, and large gaps in the story remain.

While I did not necessarily expect to find it, I was also disappointed not to find an account of Betty Town’s last days that was written by any of those who were dispossessed or their descendants.

To me that is an almost crippling omission. In my long years as a historian, I have repeatedly seen how contemporary white and Black views of historical events are often completely different. Again and again, I have found them to be as different as night and day.

All that said, even the surviving white accounts paint a sordid portrait of the destruction of Betty Town.

The most widely known account was written in 1916 by Robert Tripp Bonner, who was one of the most active local historians and genealogists in Beaufort County in the early 20^th century.

A surveyor by trade, R.T. Bonner (1854-1919), who was white, came from Bonnerton, only a few miles from Betty Town, and spent much of his life in Aurora.

At the time of Betty Town’s troubles, he was just a young boy, five or six years old. However, he inevitably grew up hearing stories about Betty Town.

Years later, in 1880, when the town of Aurora was officially incorporated at the former site of Betty Town, he was the surveyor who laid out the town’s streets.

In the early 20^th century, Bonner occasionally wrote articles on Beaufort County’s history in the local newspapers. One of those articles focused on the town of Aurora’s history.

Published in the Washington Progress in 1916, Bonner’s article was not hesitant about looking at Aurora’s origins:

“The land previous to the Civil War was owned by a free negro named Isaiah Hodge who died from the effects of a cancer and during his sickness was furnished with the necessities of life by Isaiah Respess who took a mortgage on the lands.”

Isaiah Respess was a prosperous merchant, farmer, and lumberman who had extensive land holdings across a broad swath of eastern North Carolina. He was also the mayor of Washington during the early part of the Civil War.

Bonner recalled that, after Isaiah Hodge’s death, which was apparently in 1857 or 1858, Respess called in the family’s debts and, when his widow Betty could not meet them, had their land confiscated.

He then “sold the land under execution by Sheriff Henry Alderson Ellison and bid it in about 1859.”

Sometime soon after, according to Bonner, “Rev. W. H. Cunningham, of Lenoir County, came to South Creek, bought the site of Aurora from Isaiah Respess and began the town.”  

The Rev. W. H. Cunningham (ca. 1824-1895) was a Methodist minister originally from Greene County. Before coming to Beaufort County, he had been serving as the principal of Lenoir Academy, a private school in Kinston, the seat of Lenoir County.

He had a highly entrepreneurial spirit and was involved in a number of real estate and business ventures before, during, and after the Civil War.

The Dispossessed

The Hodges and their neighbors obviously believed that the taking of their land was an injustice.

By all accounts, they did not accept the legality of the sheriff’s proceedings, the right of Respess to have their land confiscated, or Rev. Cunningham’s right to evict them. According to Bonner’s story, they defied Rev. Cunningham and the county sheriff and refused to leave their homes in Betty Town.

Bonner continued:

“Mr. Cunningham had much trouble dispossessing the free negroes, but one Sunday night, [when] these negroes left their homes to go to a big preaching, Cunningham tore down their houses and took possession of their lands.”

The county sheriff evidently allowed the assault, but that would not have surprised anyone, Black or white, at the time. In antebellum North Carolina, free African Americans were left to defend their own.

Betty Town is unlikely to have survived so long if the community had not previously shown that it was able to defend itself.

In his history of Aurora, Bonner then says:

“These negroes emigrated to Ohio and as the law at that time forbid free negroes after leaving the state to return, they and their descendants did not come back.”

The Legal Status of Free African Americans

In 1830, North Carolina legislators prohibited free African Americans from returning to the state if they left for 90 days.

That law was part of a raft of laws and state constitutional amendments in the 1830s that deprived free blacks of many of the most basic rights of American citizenship.

Other rights taken away from North Carolina’s free African Americans in the 1830s included the right of free assembly, the right of free speech, the right to vote, the right to bear arms, and the right to testify against white citizens in court.

Without those rights, Betty Town’s citizens realistically had no path to defending themselves against the takeover of their land, at least not in court, even in the unlikely event that they could have found a local attorney willing to represent them.

According to Bonner’s 1916 story, after taking Betty Town’s homes and farms, the Rev. Cunningham renamed the place “Aurora.”

Even before the Civil War, he began recruiting new settlers to the former site of Betty Town by running advertisements in newspapers in other parts of North Carolina that made “Aurora” sound like Eden.

From North Carolina to Ohio

Betty Town’s refugees were not the only free African Americans who looked to the state of Ohio for shelter in those last years before the Civil War.

Confronted with severe restrictions on their legal rights and by growing white violence, an important number of North Carolina’s free African Americans found new homes in the northern states.

In the 1850s, Cleveland, Oberlin, and other parts of Ohio were especially common destinations for free African Americans from Eastern North Carolina.

Probably the best known of the region’s free Black exiles in Ohio was Lewis Sheridan Leary.

Leary left his family’s home in Fayetteville, and moved to Oberlin, Ohio, in 1856. He was active in the Ohio Anti-Slavery Society, probably active in the Underground Railroad, and was one of three Blacks who rode with John Brown at Harpers Ferry.

‘A Gang of Lawless Ruffians’

Another account of Betty Town’s last days was published just a short time after the community’s destruction.

Appearing in the North Carolina Times, a Raleigh newspaper, on Jan. 25, 1860, an anonymous letter writer calling himself “John Veritas” declared that he had visited “Aurora” that winter, while visiting friends in that part of Beaufort County.

In his letter, John Veritas indicated that he had read a newspaper advertisement placed by Rev. Cunningham that sought to recruit settlers to his new town. While in the area, he had decided that he wanted to see “Aurora” for himself.

To say the least, he had not been impressed. Rev. Cunningham’s advertisement apparently promised a bustling little town that already had churches, shops, a physician’s office, elegant homes, and other “fine edifices.”

Instead, John Veritas wrote, he found that his white friends there still called the area “Betty Town” and barely remembered hearing anything about a town called “Aurora.”

All that he found there, he said, was “one dwelling house, a schoolhouse, the ruins of an old house, [and] pine and gum saplings.”

Along one side of the schoolhouse, he reported, someone had scribbled a bit of graffiti.

BETTY TOWN, if you are so soon done for—

I wonder what you was ever begun for?

I could be wrong, but I assume that was the schoolhouse that had served Betty Town’s children.

By that time, Isaiah Hodge had already died. The house in ruins, as we will see, was evidently that of his widow, Betty Hodge, and the surviving house was that of her son and his family.

If any of Betty Town’s other families remained on the land, John Veritas had not been shown their homes.

After seeing “Aurora,” the visitor compared Rev. Cunningham’s real estate ad to “a patent medicine advertisement recommending pills efficacious in the cures of all diseases …”

John Veritas’s letter in the Raleigh Times elaborated further on his visit to Beaufort County.

According to the local people with whom he spoke:

… a speculating land gambler came down there, fixing his eye upon this spot as an eligible site, turned up a claim to it, and supposing it an easy matter to get clear of these old negroes, he ordered them to leave the premises.”

The “speculating land gambler” was of course Rev. Cunningham.

Evidently, Betty Hodge and her son did not succumb to the minister’s threats. According to the anonymous letter, they even sought out legal counsel from a prominent white attorney in the county seat.

John Veritas continued:

“They were then threatened with violence … A few weeks later, in the bitter cold of December, [Cunningham] procured a lawless vagabond … to undermine the chimneys to the old woman’s house …”

According to John Veritas, Betty Hodge still did not relent.

 “Finding this cruel heartless act not sufficient to accomplish his purposes, with a gang of lawless ruffians, at a late hour, on a dark, cold, freezing night, attacked the old house, pulling down portions of it and tearing the roof off, drove the old woman forth exposed to the inclement, freezing frost of a winter’s night ….”

In his letter, John Veritas claimed that Cunningham’s thugs then went next door and “inhumanely beat” Betty Hodge’s son and daughter-in-law. Their crime, he was told, was daring to consult the attorney in Washington about their right to hold onto their land.

At the end of his letter, John Veritas indicated that, according to his friends in Beaufort County, justice was somehow served in the end and “the old woman restored to her land.”

That was not true or, if it was, Betty Hodge did not remain in Betty Town for very long.

By the time the U.S. census taker reached that part of Beaufort County later in 1860, Betty Hodge and her family were not there. I do not know exactly when or how they left, but Betty Town was gone.

I do not feel clear about where they went. According to Bonner’s 1916 history of Aurora that I quoted earlier, they left North Carolina and emigrated to Ohio.

However, I have not succeeded in locating Betty Hodge or any of her family in the federal censuses of Ohio in the late 19^th or early 20^th centuries. The only mention of them that I have found anywhere was in a brief part of Bonner’s article that I have not yet discussed.

In that section of his article, Bonner writes:

“About 1885 …, some of Isaiah Hodge[‘s] heirs returned, employed E. S. Simmons and entered suit against the citizens of the [Aurora].”

Attorney E. S. Simmons (1855-1907)

Enoch Spencer Simmons was an attorney in Washington, N.C. in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. A graduate of the University of North Carolina, he was originally from Hyde County, just across the Pamlico River from South Creek.

In 1898, Simmons published a book-length essay called A Solution to the Negro Problem of the South.

In that essay, he proposed that southern whites forcibly remove all of the South’s Black citizens from their land and relocate them to an all-black colony that he proposed the U.S. Government create in the states of Alabama, Louisiana, and Mississippi.

I do not think you would be mistaken if you took Simmons’ background as evidence of the quality of legal representation that was available to the state’s black citizens in the late 19^th century.

In that 1916 article, R. T. Bonner continued:

“This suit fell through owing to the fact that an unrecorded deed from Sheriff Ellison to Isaiah Respess was found in the safe of Capt. Wilson Farrow who married the only child of Isaiah Respess.”

Isaiah and Betty Hodge’s descendants had not made a claim against Rev. Cunningham, but instead sought damages for what they believed to be the illegal confiscation of their land by Isaiah Respass.

On one of my trips to the State Archives, I looked for the case in the superior court indexes but did not find it. However, I might have missed it; I think it might be worth re-checking.

Few historical records could tell us more about Betty Town, and court filings would also give us a least something from the perspective of the people who lost their homes and land.

The Rev. Cunningham returned to the former site of Betty Town after the Civil War. His claim to the land was recognized by law by that time. Over the next few years, he would welcome new settlers, establish a church, and operate a hotel in the new town of Aurora.

His interests however were rather far ranging. In a New Bern newspaper from 1865, I found an advertisement in which he was selling 1,500 acres of “tar and turpentine land” in Beaufort County.

According to the Charlotte Observer Dec. 5, 1877, edition, he was expelled from the Methodist church district conference for “immorality” in 1877.

The town of Aurora was officially incorporated on the former site of Betty Town in 1880. It grew into a bustling little market town later in the 19^th century, and then into an important regional center for truck farming after the railroad’s arrival in or about 1911.

Today Aurora is best known for being home to one of the largest open pit phosphate mines in North America and for a very nice museum that highlights the marine fossils found at the mine.

I do not know if anyone knows more than this about Betty Town. But I hope that I will find out when I publish this story. I cannot help hoping that somebody, somewhere, maybe even a descendent of the people who lost their homes and land, will see this story and reach out to me.

Before composing over two dozen volumes of poetry, before becoming a professor at the prestigious Cornell University in upstate New York, and long before winning any of his numerous national literary awards, Archibald Randolph Ammons was a poor boy working on his father’s Columbus County farm during the Great Depression.

Ammons would eventually achieve fame under the byline “A.R. Ammons,” a heralded poet noted for his beautiful but also scientifically precise descriptions of nature. However, with those who knew him personally, including those who knew him during his formative years in coastal Carolina, he went by the less precise but more identifiable name “Archie.”

‘Alluvial country’

Archie Ammons was born in his family’s farmhouse just outside of Whiteville on Feb. 18, 1926. The fields he helped his father plow during his youth were 6 short miles from Lake Waccamaw and only 35 miles from the Brunswick County beach communities his family would travel to for the occasional fish fry or oyster roast. Ammons spent these hardscrabble years mostly behind hitched mules, furrowing the soil in which he and his father grew corn, tobacco, peanuts and other cash crops so typical of eastern North Carolina agricultural districts.

Though he would not begin writing poetry until some years later, his experiences on the farm and in what he called the “alluvial country” of the coastal plains impressed him deeply and would eventually find voice in his writing.  

For instance, in the poem “Silver,” about a mule his family owned during his childhood, Ammons remembers how he and Silver would “fall soon again into the slow requirements of our dreams / how we turned at the ends of rows without sense to new furrows and went back / flicked by / cornblades and hearing the circling in / the cornblades of horseflies in pursuit.”

In the poem “I’m the Type,” Ammons would look back at his early life on the farm in light of his later career as a famous writer and note how he “misses the mules and cows / hogs and chickens, misses / the rain making little / rivers, well-figured with / tributaries through the / sand yard.” Ammons learned in his childhood to be attentive to the living world around him, including not only the plants and animals but also the physical forces that shape living things. They entered his imagination as a boy and stayed with him the rest of his life.

From the South Pacific to the Outer Banks   

According to Roger Gilbert, a professor of English literature at Cornell University who is writing a biography of his former colleague, the Ammons family farm was not particularly successful, so a young Ammons sought employment in the largest nearby city.

“He had been working in the shipyards in Wilmington after high school and one day he came home and the farm had been sold,” Gilbert said in a recent interview. “That farm had been his world growing up. So when that was gone, when it was no longer a place that belonged to him, I think he felt he’d lost that sense of having a home.”

This bitter loss began a whirlwind period in Ammons’s life. American involvement in the Pacific theater of World War II was ramping up just as he graduated high school. With no more family farm to tend, Ammons enlisted in the Navy. He was deployed as a sonar operator aboard the destroyer U.S.S. Gunason, on which he sailed through the South Pacific, listening for the pings of reverberating soundwaves that could signal the underwater presence of enemy vessels or weapons.

It was also during this time, on the long voyages at sea, that Archie began writing his first poems. He was training the precision of his ear in more ways than one.  

When the war ended, the poor country boy from Whiteville took advantage of the GI Bill to attend Wake Forest College. Ammons graduated in 1949 and left town with a Bachelor of Science and, more importantly, a courtship with his future wife, Phyllis.

He moved almost immediately to the Outer Banks village of Hatteras, where he would spend the 1949-50 academic year as principal of tiny Hatteras Elementary School — and where Phyllis would join him after their wedding during Thanksgiving break.

Though he was only on the Dare County island for a year, the dramatic seascapes of the Outer Banks entered his poetic imagination just as the sandy farmland of Whiteville had. In an unpublished poem written during his first summer on Hatteras, and kindly provided by Professor Gilbert out of the Ammons archive at Cornell University, Archie tried to capture in words the strange magic of the Banks at night: “Night has come to this small island, / Drowsing on the golden dunes cool-mist opiates. / Far out at sea, a ship’s sea-lantern sways / And a lost gull screams.”

Gilbert noted that Ammons, by this point, had not yet found his unique poetic voice. But “the Hatteras landscape stayed with him and influenced some of those early poems,” he said.

A Second Vision of Land and Sea

By “those early poems,” Gilbert was referring to Ammons’s first collection of poetry, “Ommateum,” which he self-published in 1955. By this point, Ammons was living in New Jersey and working at his father-in-law’s manufacturing firm, which made glassware for laboratories.

In “Ommateum,” Ammons began to dabble in the scientific specificity and abstraction that would later become a hallmark of his style. More central to his first book, however, is one of Ammons’s mainstay themes: the transience of nature and human life.

In fact, the very first poem in “Ommateum” draws on the windswept ecology of Cape Hatteras to show us a narrator, Ezra, seeking his voice amid a powerful vortex of natural forces. Reworking many of the specific images and themes of his unpublished poem from his year in Hatteras, Ammons describes how Ezra speaks his name to the sea, “but there were no echoes from the waves / The words were swallowed up / in the voice of the surf.” The protagonist has to turn away “from the wind / that ripped sheets of sand / from the beach and threw them / like seamists across the dunes.”

Finally realizing the futility of fighting the wind, Ezra decides instead to adapt to and even become part of the landscape. “So I Ezra went out into the night,” the poem ends, “like a drift of sand / and splashed among the windy oats / that clutch the dunes / of unremembered seas.”

The poem sets the tone for the rest of the volume and, in a way, for the rest of Ammons’s career. It is somehow fitting that a poet from coastal North Carolina would begin his first book looking for meaning in a sea squall.  

According to Alex Albright, a retired professor of creative writing at East Carolina University and the editor of the indispensable Ammons volume “The North Carolina Poems,” “There’s a journal entry from when (Ammons was) in the Navy that provides a controlling metaphor for his life.”

“He sees off in the distance the fine line of the horizon,” Albright said in a telephone interview, “and as he gets closer and closer to it, it’s not really a straight line. It’s that second vision that he brings to a lot of his landscapes.”

Becoming a classic

“Ommateum” sold barely any copies when it first appeared. But little by little, Ammons began making inroads into the professional poetry establishment. Individual poems started getting picked up by journals and magazines here and there throughout the 1950s, and in 1964 he was hired to teach poetry writing at Cornell University, where he would later become a full professor and befriend Roger Gilbert.

The same year also saw the publication of his second collection, “Expressions of Sea Level,” this time by a major university press. From that point on until his death in 2001, Ammons would never go more than four years without releasing a new volume.

From the 1970s through the end of the 1990s, Ammons’s star rose without cease. He won the National Book Award for one collection of poetry in 1973, then the prestigious Bollingen Prize for Poetry for a different collection in 1975. It was around this time that the influential literary critic Harold Bloom said that “No contemporary poet, in America, is likelier to become a classic than A.R. Ammons.”

As if to prove Bloom’s point, Ammons released a volume in 1981 that received the National Book Critics Circle Award, and another volume 12 years later that won him his second National Book Award.  In October 2000, just five months before his death at age 75, he was inducted into the North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame.

Albright, who knew Ammons personally through their work together at the North Carolina Literary Review, pointed out that the shy, affable farm boy from Whiteville was aware he had a gift.

“He knew that he was in a rare class,” Albright said. “He had a Southern way of deflecting praise, but there were very few poets that he imagined were as good as he was.”

Not Deep down but across

Ammons is by no means omnipresent in Whiteville today, but neither is he or the world of his childhood totally forgotten. His family home was torn down years ago, but Whiteville High School has a couple of old buildings he would have sat in as a student in the 1930s, and the Pentecostal church he attended with his parents still stands out by Spring Branch. There is no plaque for him in town, but the Reuben Brown House, a historic preservation group in Columbus County, runs an annual poetry contest in his honor.

The fields and swamps he roamed as a boy are in a similar state of in-between. “Until very recently he would have recognized the Columbus County landscape,” Albright said. “The bridges are a little better, but it’s still swampy. There’s still bugs, it’s still quiet, and you’re still really close to the coast out there.”

According to Albright, even the Brunswick County beaches of Ammons’s youth have not yet been totally transformed.

“There’s a little place when you go to the right on Ocean Isle, that’s where they went for their oyster roasts,” he said, “and on the back end, you can sort of forget that the high-rise bridge is going over to Ocean Isle, and it can feel very isolated.”

Still, Ammons was powerfully attentive to and protective of the natural world. The poet would likely have some strong opinions about the lack of care taken for the soil, water, trees and animals of southeastern North Carolina if he saw it today.

“He could be looked at as an early environmentalist,” Albright said of his old friend. “His feel for the land was just something. And part of what he would see would be heartbreaking. The factory tree farming, especially.”

In “Making Fields,” one of his most moving poems about his North Carolina roots, Ammons describes the give and take between the land and his ancestors who worked that land going back to his father’s father.

The life he presents to readers in this poem is a hard one, and it unfolds overtop a thin coastal soil stratum that doesn’t always offer bounty and wealth. But at the end of the poem, Ammons can still clearly see and hear his connection to the place of his birth.

“… the land is not deep down but across, as into time” he writes. “the runs, the / ditch banks, the underbrush, the open fields with a persimmon tree / or wild cherry call, they call me.” 

Indigenous advocate and author Gray Michael Parsons of Frisco is scheduled to speak this weekend on the “Balance, Resilience, and Indigenous Wisdom,” second in Coastal Carolina Riverwatch‘s Cultural Perspectives Series.

His talk is from 4 to 6 p.m. Saturday at Promise Land Market in downtown Morehead City. The nonprofit is offering the community event at no charge, but space is limited and advance registration is required to attend.

Parsons is a descendant of the Machapunga-Mattamuskeet people of the North Carolina Inner Banks and founder of the Secotan Alliance … and Beyond, a nonprofit formed in 2023 to honor Indigenous heritage, promote environmental stewardship, and uplift traditional Earth ethics. He is author of two books, “Hope on Hatterask” published in 2013 and “Pampico Blue” published in 2025.

The Secotan Alliance organization is named in honor of Chief Wingina, who led the Roanoke-Secotan tribe that occupied almost all of what is now called the Albemarle Peninsula, which includes Dare, Hyde, Beaufort, Washington and Tyrrell counties, when the English first made contact in the 1580s, according to the Secotan Alliance website.

“Parsons will speak on the significance of Indigenous ecological knowledge, the legacy of the Secotan people, and the enduring values of leadership, land connection, and community. Attendees will have an opportunity to engage in meaningful dialogue and informal conversation with Parsons following the talk,” organizers said.

Coastal Carolina Riverwatch is an advocacy organization dedicated to protecting and enhancing the waters in the White Oak River Basin.