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Spring 2026 D E PA R T M E N T S 13
FROM FALL LINE TO SHORELINE
by Bland Simpson
17
WORTH THE DRIVE by Jason Frye
21
OMNIVOROUS READER by Kristi Southern
25
BOOKSHELF by Kimberly Daniels Taws
26
DOWN EAST By Jim Dodson
35
BIRDWATCH by Susan Campbell
80
ROOTS OF HOME
83
ARTS CALENDAR
88
EASTWORDS by Celia Rivenbark
38
F E AT U R E S 37
POEM: BARBEQUE SERVICE
38
THE INSPIRATION OF HOME
42
NEW HORIZONS
48
A WINNING PITCH
52
FINDING FORTUNA
58
NAVIGATING ROUGH WATERS
64
ON THE CUSP
70
GEORGIAN GEM
by James Applewhite
by Emmie Brooks The faces and places ofKristy Woodson Harvey’s world by Teri Saylor Fresh Adventures for King Mackerel & the Blues Are Running by Bill Fields The amazing Perry brothers of Williamston
42
by John Wolfe The treasures in the marsh by Harris Vaughn Refusing to quit when the future looks choppy by Liza Roberts Karina McMillan: Lumbee artist and generational talent by William Irvine After a multiyear restoration, Wilmington’s Burgwin-Wright House is ready for its close-up.
Cover Photograph by Jacklyn Morgan
6 EastBound Magazine
70 The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
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The art and soul of the Coastal Plain
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CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Joseph Bathanti, Harry Blair, Emmie Brooks, Susan Campbell, Samuel B. Dixon, Jim Dodson, Jason Frye, William Irvine, Tom Maxwell, Mary Novitsky, Todd Pusser, Celia Rivenbark, Liza Roberts, Teri Saylor, Scott Sheffield, Bland Simpson, Kristi Southern, Kimberly Daniels Taws, Harris Vaughan, John Wolfe
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F RO M FA L L L I N E TO S H O R E L I N E
Greening Up the Roanoke
By Bland Simpson
PHOTOGRAPHS BY TOM EARNHARDT
F
our of us — friends David and Heidi Perry, my wife, Ann, and I — met up with rough-and-ready naturalist Tom Earnhardt (of UNC TV’s “Exploring North Carolina”), and his 17-foot Jones Brothers bateau in Williamston one late March weekend a decade ago. We were all staying at the late Lucia Peel’s small inn, an early 20th-century pile called Haughton Hall, and after going out for a guaranteed oyster and shrimp feast at the venerable Sunny Side Oyster Bar only a couple of miles from Lucia’s, we had returned and settled in to watch a Tar Heels basketball game. Lucia Peel was an attorney (as were our fathers, good friends too), and she also had deep conservation interests: She was a founding member and longtime board president of Roanoke River Partners, the group that notably saved a nearby Rosenwald school and that also envisioned and constructed a host of tentcamping platforms in the depths of the mighty lower Roanoke’s deep swamps. At 3 to 5 miles wide, they are among the broadest freshwater river bottomlands in the country. People come from all over to see and stay in this natural wonder. She was practical and inspired — and a mite superstitious, too, retreating to her kitchen and her special large rocking chair with her retriever, so they could watch the ballgame and from that lucky vantage point bring good fortune to the Tar Heels as she and the dog looked up at the television atop the refrigerator, while we watched from a parlor on the other side of the house. As soon as the Tar Heels won that tournament game running away, Lucia was at our sides again, and she cheered us on, speaking with enthusiasm about the downriver jaunt we had planned for the next day. “You’re going to have great weather!” she kept saying.
*** The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
And so we did. After a gracious Haughton Hall breakfast next morning, we made our way down to the wildlife landing just upstream of the Roanoke River bridge and former site of an old gargantuan, higgledy-piggledy red riverside warehouse, a favorite childhood icon of mine, which burned long ago. Sunlight came to us diffusely, and as the day’s predicted weather would bring us only a mid-50s high, we all layered up considerably and set out. Moved out, more like it: Knowing he would often be out on open eastern Carolina waters, where storms and squalls blow up quickly, Tom had the bateau fitted out with a 70-horse motor, so he could outrun most anything Mother Nature might sling and fling at him of a day. As the great Carolina journalist and boatman Jack Betts would say, Tom’s bateau was indeed “a go-fast.” Only a few other boats were on the river this early this cool March morning, and the Perrys, Ann and I as Tom’s crew had only to look out for dead-head logs ahead as we cruised on, wind in our faces, swiftly downriver, enjoying the ever-so-slight hint of green on the riverside’s bordering trees, the maples leaning out too and showing their first blush of red. If the hints were modest, they were still there for real, and all the way down 15 miles of river we said the word “spring!” over and over again, as if by incantation we could fully bring it on.
***
A line had already formed when we reached the Cypress Grill, that small, tin-roofed, board-and-batten cabin-like restaurant just a few yards up the Jamesville riverbank, where we tied up the bateau and took our places. The Grill had stood forth, famously, for decades as the open-six-weeks-only-at-Eastertide spot to be for fresh fried herring (cooked lightly, heavily or cremated). We ordered up and ate up while standing around outside, with EastBound Magazine
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F RO M FA L L L I N E TO S H O R E L I N E
unanimous finest kind judgment, and after only a half an hour or so, full of herring and sweet iced tea, we reboarded the bateau and headed slowly back up the river’s edge, sun and patches of blue now over all. Into Devil’s Gut, a prime Roanoke backwater, Tom turned the boat, into the realm of the tent-camping platforms, up Lower Deadwater Creek, a slender stream to the north off the gut, coming to a slow stop at the tent-platform of Barred Owl Roost, where we lingered awhile, listening out and talking about this profoundly deep swamp and all the warblers, bright yellow prothonotaries and so many others, which would soon be mating and nesting here. Then we headed west again, slowly up the gut, till we burst back out onto the big river, which revealed to us a miracle. By now there had been just enough sun, more than we expected, warming the day up into the low 60s, bringing enough heat and force to change dramatically the Roanoke’s riverside complexion during the few scant hours while we had lunched at the Cypress Grill and then rummaged on through Devil’s Gut. Millions of leaves had unfurled and opened up! The Roanoke, in this short stretch of time, this small piece of day, had turned a seasonal bend in time and greened up gloriously. Our little liturgy, our incantations on the way downriver, had worked. We were simply exultant, and we laughed as we sped the rest of the way on back toward the Williamston landing, surprised and in good-hearted disbelief at the power and magic
14 EastBound Magazine
that anyone out on the river just then could so readily have seen: The grand green cloak of spring! Cap’n Tom pushed the throttle down, and our speed encouraged me to keep a tight grip on the stainless steel pipe near the pilot, so I held on hard and fast for 30 or 40 more minutes till we eased under the Williamston bridge and reached the wildlife ramp there. Everywhere we looked, the Great Painter had put a bright, fresh coat of evanescent light green upon the woods, and the difference from early morning to late afternoon was stunning indeed. We thanked Tom Earnhardt and bade him farewell at the landing and drove back to Haughton Hall to reunite David and Heidi Perry with their car. Lucia Peel was sitting on the back steps while her retriever happily roamed around the inn’s back yard, a blithe moment for this true daughter of Rachel Carson. Lucia’s works honor the great eastern riverswamps we had just traversed and we are all in her debt, certainly including those of us who, to our surprise and delight, had gotten in on the very day of that spring’s greening up all along North Carolina’s lower Roanoke River. EB Bland Simpson is a Kenan Distinguished Professor of English and Creative Writing Emeritus at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a regular contributor to EastBound Magazine. He is also the longtime pianist for the string band The Red Clay Ramblers. His most recent book is Clover Garden: A Carolinian’s Piedmont Memoir.
The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
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WORTH THE DRIVE
Roadside Triple Play Out of the frying pan and into Rose Hill
PHOTOGRAPHS COURTESY OF DUPLIN WINE TOURISM; PHOTOGRAPH BY JASON FRYE
By Jason Frye
O
n road trips in my car, we keep the talk light — how much money you’d really get after you hit the Powerball jackpot and exactly how you’d squander every penny; whether 1977 or 1989 was a better year for the Grateful Dead — unless we’re headed to Rose Hill, in which case I’ll tell you that this little burg is a triple play in weird roadside attractions. Gas up the car and make your way to Exit 380 on Interstate 40 and prepare to be whelmed. I’m not sure if you’ll be over- or under-whelmed (that’s all about your attitude), but a whelming awaits thanks to a pair of yesteryear highway oddities with dubious distinctions and a real coastal rarity: a winery. Rose Hill’s a proud chicken town, and back in 1963, Ramsey Feed Company decided to celebrate that by building a whopper of a frying pan to go along with the North Carolina Poultry Jubilee. This monster pan weighs 2 tons, is 15 feet across and holds 200 gallons of oil, enough to simultaneously fry a year’s worth of chickens, 365 of them swimming in the pond-sized pan until they turn golden brown. But they only fire it up once a year when November’s Poultry Jubilee rolls around. Then you’ll find lines of locals hungry for a plate or platter or pile of fried chicken. Otherwise, it’s right there by the Fire Department (smart thinking) filling every square inch of a gazebo adorned with a sign that reads “Worlds (sic) Largest Frying Pan.” But this is misleading. Not
The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
EastBound Magazine
17
WORTH THE DRIVE
because of the missing apostrophe, but because this is not the World’s Largest Frying Pan. There are contenders — in Iowa, Washington, Mexico — but for the longest time those big pans fell short of ours by one mark: Rose Hill’s pan was the World’s Largest Operational Frying Pan. The pretenders to the throne just sat there. Then, in September 2025, some hungry folks in Torreón, Mexico, built a 29 1/2-foot pan, cooked a discada (a meaty, and circular, dish), and stole the crown. Maybe we can start a petition to rename ours “World’s Largest Usable Frying Pan for Fried Chicken” and make a sign that wraps around the whole gazebo? Seeing the dubiously named Worlds (sic) Largest Frying Pan in the off season is a little “wow, that’s a big pan,” but show up in November and the smell of fried chicken and the sound of all that grease popping makes the thing impressive. And there’s food. Fortunately, you can find food in Rose Hill year-round, and you can spot your second showy roadside attraction in the process. Just a block and a half away stands a house-sized chair, the World’s Largest Adirondack Chair (bonus points for the apostrophe). It’s tremendous. Red. Towering. Filling the whole lot beside Fredrick Furniture with its physical and psychic presence. I thought the one I’d seen on the Duck Boardwalk on the Outer Banks was big, but that’s a baby chair by comparison. Standing two stories — maybe a touch more — high, it’s got gravity. But it’s got a controversy, too. In Ontario, there’s one three stories tall; and there’s an impressive
pair in Florida; and another one in Wilmington, Ohio — step it up Wilmington, N.C.! You might think L.L. Bean would have a giant camp chair in Maine but they’ve got a boot instead. So, Rose Hill finds itself in good company, though we may need to hire the world’s largest Mayflower truck to gather all the chairs together and settle this once and for all. Thinking about those logistics worked up a thirst in me, and after admiring the Frying Pan (and touching it even though signs said not to) and posing for a selfie on the chair, I made a beeline to Rose Hill’s third oddity: Duplin Winery. The coastal plain’s not the first place you think of when you think North Carolina wine — the humidity, the salty air, the long-and-growing-longer summers (which are woefully absent of cool nights) — but out here on the temperate side of I-95, you find ideal growing conditions for our native grape: vitis rotundifolia, the Muscadine grape, specifically the bronze-skinned scuppernong. And Duplin Winery has crushed somewhere north of 15 million cases worth. I stopped in for a sample and for lunch at The Bistro. Cars from out of state, from in state and a minibus from a retirement community fill Duplin Winery’s parking lot. Above the door a sign proclaims this as “The Winery of The South.” I’m almost convinced it’s true. Tastings are all full. Every private tasting room, every nook and cranny where one might take a guided journey through
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Duplin’s portfolio, every seat at long tables set with empty glasses and bowls full of crackers is occupied. I go for lunch first, which, honestly, is the pro move when you’re wine or whiskey tasting. When my menu arrives, the server pours a sip of a sample of sweet scuppernong juice as a tasting. I’ve got fried chicken on my mind, and I read the menu twice before realizing the salad topped with a chicken tendie is my only fowl option, so I go for a cheeseburger and nose my wine. It’s floral. Like gardenias or a humid breath of jasmine-scented air. For much of the dining room — median age: advanced church lady — it’s a buzz-inducing sip and all these free samples are creating a buzz indeed. The room vibrates with conversation. Two-top tables, like mine, stand against barnwood-slatted walls. I’m seated beneath a photo of a white-haired, white-bearded guy who looks like Alec Guinness praying over a book-sized loaf of bread, a normal-sized bowl of soup, and a Bible bigger than The Worlds (sic) Largest Frying Pan. It reminds me of my grandmother’s house. And my aunt’s. And that I need to trim my beard. In the center of the room, four-tops float like bits of iceberg. In some places they’ve been pushed together forming eight- and 12-tops whose edges rub against one another like tectonic plates as diners dive with abandon into their communion-sized wine samples. Those sips hit some lightweights hard and they get loud, driving the next table louder, eliciting a gale of laughter from yet another table. The biggest group — an 18-top of the mini-bus
retirement community folks (they wear matching shirts) — is the most, well, festive. Finally, I go in for my sip. It seems communion-cup sized, but it’s a little bigger: two easy sips for a food writer like me, three for the little old lady having soup with another little old lady a table away, one gulp for a college student. The wine tastes like childhood summers. The green summers of West Virginia when the humidity was trapped in the hollers and my granddad’s grapevines grew leaves big as a dinner plate and the bronze fruit was the size of a golf ball: scuppernongs, a through line across time tying me to my future in North Carolina, warm on the vine and waiting to be eaten. Pluck the grape, make a quick slit across the top with a pocketknife and apply just the right pressure with your teeth and the slippery, meaty globe of flesh pops free from the bitter skins. It’s sweet bliss. The wine tastes like that. A few minutes of reverie spent in summers long past and suddenly lunch is gone and it’s time for my tasting. I head through the gift shop, take a seat, and wonder what the next seven bottles have in store. EB Jason Frye is a travel writer living in Wilmington. He’s the author of Moon North Carolina, Moon North Carolina Coast, and guidebooks to the Smoky Mountains, Blue Ridge Parkway, and hiking in our national parks. Follow his adventures in eastern North Carolina and beyond on Instagram @BeardedWriter.
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The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
OMNIVOROUS READER
Waiting for Their Turn Jill McCorkle’s Old Crimes and Other Stories By Kristi Southern
J
ill McCorkle’s 2024 Old Crimes and Other Stories is a collection of 12 narratives that include interconnected elements and contemplative characters who seem to be searching for, or reflecting on, their place in life. McCorkle’s characters are unique and most are likeable, but her stories are a bit bittersweet. Many of her players scrutinize missed chances in their lives, wish for something more, or are still waiting for their time to come. Their quirkiness keeps the stories from being overly sad, but there is still a tinge of regret that warns readers to grab chances and recognize life and its opportunities as it is happening. In the title story, “Old Crimes,” readers meet narrator Lynn, who is looking back on a trip with a boyfriend whose name she doesn’t remember. Lynn and the boyfriend, Cal, were young college students on a weekend getaway that doesn’t quite hit the expected mark. The inn where they are staying is dated and cluttered with nostalgic Americana knickknacks, and Lynn comes across as lonely while on what was supposed to be a romantic getaway. Young Lynn is told by her guidance counselor that she has choices in life, can go anywhere, that it isn’t “about right or wrong, but what’s right for (her).” By the narrative’s end, though, readers see future Lynn, facing a new start, but perhaps it isn’t as optimistic as a new start could be. In “Low Tones” we meet Loris Ward, whose husband, Alton, is no longer himself, living out his remaining days in the local hospital. To Loris, Alton is not the upstanding person their community has perceived him to be throughout their marriage. Loris was not prepared for Alton’s health turn, but as we learn how Alton has treated her over the years, there is not much reason for her to be mourning. She has slowly been losing her hearing, particularly those lower tones of her husband’s voice, and we get the impression that “the calm comfort of absolute silence” has been somewhat welcome. Perhaps it is ironic that Loris can no longer hear her husband’s voice, as he doesn’t appear to have listened to her needs for most of their marriage. We encounter these two characters later in “Filling Station,” connecting narrator Ben with them both, seeing them from the perspective of someone who knows the community’s view of Alton but not necessarily Loris’ inside view.
The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
Marnie and Roland, who also appear in “Filling Station,” are introduced in “Swingers,” but the story starts after Roland’s death as Marnie wonders how much longer she will be able to stay in his home. Although they were in love and together for some time, Roland never got around to divorcing his wife, and Marnie questions what her place in his life was. “Where do I fit in?” she has asked him more than once, but a clear answer was never received. She knows she is loved by Roland, but she wants to know when her turn will come. Roland’s heart gives out before she gets her chance; “like so many things in life, she didn’t get the chance and now she has to just let it go.” “A Simple Question” finds Anna looking back on her friendship with Muriel, an older friend from years before, and recalling the day Muriel started to ask something but then decided to wait. The question was never asked, reminiscent of how chances are missed throughout this collection. Anna and Muriel are at almost opposite stages in their lives during their friendship: Muriel is married with a son with a life that is “fixed and decided” (albeit she also shares with Anna her sadness and regrets); while Anna is eagerly waiting for her life to begin, “her real life.” One friend is hopeful and anxious for life to get started, as the other is hoping to hold on to the one she has — and hoping for a friend who will listen. Another struggling, unheard mother is introduced in “The Last Station,” although we never learn her name — she is simply EastBound Magazine
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OMNIVOROUS READER
“Tori’s mother.” The lack of a name given to this character emphasizes her place in the family as a mother who has sacrificed, gifted, nurtured and cared for her family with little of these things, if any, in return. Every spring, Tori’s mother holds a performance in the front yard, carrying a cross over her back like Jesus, shouting out injustices with both drama and humor. This year’s show escalates as Tori’s mother reflects on the wrongs that have befallen her — receiving a lamp after serving 35 years as an elementary school librarian; her family not remembering her birthday; giving up broccoli and cats due to her late husband’s dislikes; and just feeling “invisible and unloved.” A devoted mother and wife for years, Tori’s mother wants to know “why didn’t I get to want something,” and she cries to those watching: “I want more. I want my turn.” “Act III” introduces readers to a similar mother who also knows that “it all goes too fast.” Vera, a retired high school drama teacher, and her husband, Glen, are on a mountain getaway with their grown children and grandchildren, enjoying time together reminiscing about the past. With small hints throughout,
we learn that Vera is sick, but she has not yet shared this with her family. She clearly loves her family but has no trouble recognizing their tiresome eccentricities, their faults and their annoyances. She is honest and relatable and seems to represent a number of mothers who have dutifully raised families while working a full-time job, remaining open-minded, and seeing the humor in daily life. She compares life to the theater, acknowledging that she is now in Act III and is the one character who seems to be somewhat satisfied with the life she has lived. McCorkle’s collection of these memorable characters leaves the reader with a desire to be more aware and open to the opportunities life presents. The alternative is the regret born of never sensing that it was your time when your time presented itself — that life did take off, with or without you. EB
McCorkle’s characters are unique and most are likeable, but her stories are a bit bittersweet.
Kristi Southern has a master’s degree in multicultural literature and an MBA from East Carolina University. She currently serves as book review editor for the North Carolina Literary Review. An Eastern Carolinian for the past 30 years, she lives in Atlantic Beach.
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The Calamity Club, by Kathryn Stockett Abandoned by her mother one Christmas Eve, 11-year-old Meg Lefleur has learned the hard way to rely on no one. Now one of the unadoptable “big girls” at the Lafayette County Orphan Asylum, she fights each day to keep her spirit unbowed. Birdie Calhoun, unmarried and outspoken, has come to Oxford, Mississippi, to ask her socialite sister to help the struggling family she has left behind. But as the Depression tightens its grip in 1933, Birdie discovers her sister’s seemingly charmed life is a tapestry of lies. Then, Birdie encounters Charlie, a woman running low on luck with little left to lose. When their fates — and Meg’s — converge, Charlie comes up with an audacious plan to claim what’s rightfully theirs. But in a place and time where hypocrisy is rife and women’s freedom is fragile, even the smallest act of defiance can have dangerous consequences.
To Catch a Fish: Essays on the Joy, Frustration, Curiosity and Allure of Fishing, by Mark Kurlansky For as long as there have been humans, there have been humans trying to catch fish. The two species — fish and man — live in constant tension. One chases the other. One tries to get away. Some of us, including the author, are hard-wired for that chase. Guiding readers through the waters and into the mind of the fish, Kurlansky considers who fish are and why they behave the way they do, and along the way delves into the many approaches to catching fish, their ecology, and the ins and outs of cooking and eating your catch. Whether you’re a seasoned angler or a novice, or simply want to explore the world of fish, the 40 short essays in this collection and the dazzling illustrations by Bri Dostie shed new light on these creatures and our relationship to them.
Beach Haven, by T.I. Lowe Free-spirited Opal Gilbert seems to have everything she needs to live a happy life in Sunset Cove, refurbishing vintage furniture to sell at her funky oceanside boutique, Bless This Mess. Then Lincoln Cole, a new-to-town Marine nursing deep wounds and harboring hurts he can’t seem to shake, wanders into her shop. Opal knows a person in need when she sees one and offers Lincoln a job in her workshop. The brooding man has no interest in Opal’s offer, however. Thanks, but no thanks. Then a hurricane strikes the coastal South Carolina town, damaging Bless This Mess. Feeling guilty about how he treated Opal, Lincoln decides to help her repair the store. Soon it becomes clear Opal wants to restore her business and also help heal Lincoln. As much as Lincoln tries to keep her at arm’s length, Opal’s wellmeaning meddling begins to heal his wounds . . . and capture his heart almost before he realizes it.
The Devil’s Done Come Back: New Ghost Tales from North Carolina, edited by Ed Southern Fifteen of North Carolina’s finest writers reimagine and reclaim the stories of the ghosts who have haunted all corners of the state. North Carolina ain’t what it once was: Forests and fields have given way to suburbs and vacation homes, textile mills to high tech, tobacco farms to tourism. That doesn’t mean that the ghosts of the Old North State have gone away. In this anthology, readers might glimpse some of the ghostly apparitions, headless fiends and creepy hollers they heard about around their childhood campfires. Contributors include Michele Tracy Berger, Wiley Cash (and his daughters), Annette Saunooke Clapsaddle, Tyree Daye, Jeremy B. Jones, Ross White, Southern and many more. EB
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Compiled by Kimberly Daniels Taws, general manager of The Country Bookshop in Southern Pines, NC. EastBound Magazine
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A Delicious Country A modern adventurer retraces John Lawson’s historic journey
By James Dodson
“T
he high points of my life have all been journeys,” allows Scott Huler. “Just being outside and seeing what he might have seen on his incredible travels across an unexplored Carolina was one of the biggest thrills of my life.” The he Huler speaks of was a well-bred English gentleman named John Lawson, a young and intrepid adventurer with apparent scientific credentials who was appointed to be Surveyor General of North Carolina by the British Crown in August 1700. Three days after Christmas that year, Lawson set off from Charles-Town with a party of five Englishmen and several Indian guides on an ambitious expedition to explore the wilderness of the Colony of North Carolina, which at that moment comprised the geography of both modern North and South Carolina. Canoeing through tidal marshes and up the Santee and Wateree rivers of South Carolina, the Lawson expedition entered North Carolina on foot in the proximity of modern Charlotte (then an Indian village called Keyauwee), encountering and studying flora and fauna and peaceful Native Americans that included the Esaw, Sugaree and Catawba Indians. From there, the expedition followed the ancient Trading Path used by native tribes for millennia in a northeasterly fashion to the village of Occaneechi Town – soon to be the Colonial settlement of Hillsborough. At that point, Lawson and a trusted guide named Enoe Will headed due east to the coast, crossing the Neuse River and fording the Tar River at a point beyond what is now Greenville. The expedition reached the English settlement on the “Pampticough” River on February 23, in the vicinity of Little Washington.
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The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
JOHN LAWSON. 1700. DAO11207. EAST CAROLINA UNIVERSITY DIGITAL COLLECTIONS
The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
Lawson’s ambitious loop from coast to coast across the Carolina backcountry took 59 days and covered an estimated 550 miles of wilderness largely unexplored by Europeans. In 1705, by an act of the Colony’s General Assembly, he purchased 60 acres on Bath Creek from local Indians and fellow European stakeholders to incorporate the Colony’s first town of Bath, which by 1708 boasted a gristmill and 12 houses. The next year, Lawson returned to London to supervise the publication of A New Voyage to Carolina, an extensive account of his journey through Carolina backcountry that featured detailed observations of the customs and beliefs of the Colony’s Native American populations, as well as impressive cataloging of the natural history of North (and future South) Carolina. In the rapidly emerging Age of Exploration, Lawson — a son of privilege whose family enjoyed connections to British royalty — was clearly out to make a name for himself, but his intimately detailed and highly readable “history” quickly became a bestseller in England and across Europe at large; translations in French and German soon followed. Today, his backcountry exegesis is still regarded as one of the best travel accounts to appear from the early 18th century American Colonies. Moreover, while home in London, Lawson remained active in North Carolina’s Provincial affairs by representing the Colony in a bitter
boundary dispute with Virginia that took many years to resolve. He also organized a group of Swiss and Palatine Germans to settle on the Neuse and Trent rivers in 1710, co-founding the town of New Bern with their leader, Baron Christoph Von Graffenried. Lawson built his own house on a “high and pretty piece of land” beside a lively stream that is still known as Lawson’s Creek today. A public park in present day New Bern bears the name of the city’s intrepid founder. In September 1711, Lawson invited Von Graffenried to accompany him on a trip up the Neuse River to what is now Contentnea Creek near the modern town of Grifton at a moment when tensions with the powerful Tuscarora Indians were growing from decades of dispossession and slavery at the hands of Colonists. Theirs would be a fatal journey. Lawson’s party was captured by the Tuscarora Indians, ritually tortured and reportedly burned to death by their captors. Von Graffenried was eventually set free to provide the only account of his famous companion’s grisly death. Many believe this was the spark that ignited the Tuscarora War a short time later. Though word of Lawson’s adventure faded over subsequent centuries, as his modern day fellow explorer Scott Huler makes clear in his delightful 2019 book A Delicious Country, Lawson’s vivid descriptions of the land and sympathetic approach to the native people he met on his travels remain a valuable record of unexplored North America. Moreover, his impressive collections of natural specimens — many unique to North America — found their way into Britain’s Museum of Natural History, where they can be viewed to this day. Because he founded the state’s first two towns — Bath and New Bern — Lawson has been called “North Carolina’s first citizen.” • “The fact that almost no one today knows about Lawson’s journey was a major motivation to me,” confirms Huler over a fried bologna sandwich at his favorite pub on Ninth Street in Durham, 326 years after Lawson’s trek. “Even I had never heard his story and more or less discovered it while working on another book.” Huler credits his 2010 book, On the Grid, with bringing about his own Lawson awakening. It’s a witty and detailed examination of the various “systems above and below ground” of his house in Raleigh’s Five Points neighborhood. EastBound Magazine
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“While I was researching the part on the lay of the land where our house sits, I got interested in traveling back to understand what my little piece of property might have looked like way back before Europeans arrived here,” Huler says. “I started going backward through pages and pages of documents of historic land transactions, all the way back to Colonial times, and kept running into a sentence that read ‘Lawson walked through here.’ I wondered who this guy Lawson was.” When he finally got his hands on a copy of Lawson’s A New Voyage to Carolina, a lightbulb went off in Huler’s head to research and faithfully retrace the Englishman’s path from Charles-Town to Bath and New Bern. “To see what the places he traveled through look like today.” Historic travel adventures were hardly a new thing to this veteran NPR reporter and Duke Magazine staff writer. Huler’s seven books include an ambitious odyssey through the ancient and modern Mediterranean following the path of Homer’s Odyssey; a charming stroll through American maritime history in quest of the enigmatic Beaufort Scale; plus, his yeoman’s examination of civic systems above and below our suburban plots of land that make the world around us function. After snagging a prestigious MIT project fellowship and lining up a band of natural history experts and local naturalists who knew the lay of the land where he planned to travel, Huler was off paddling and walking in mid-October 2014 — finishing his quest just under a year later in the town of Bath. “Unlike Mr. Lawson,” he explains with a smile over lunch, “I had the modern life of a parent to keep up that included a Sunday School carpool to manage and mini-mites soccer games to attend. So, I went bit by bit, like an Appalachian Trail through-hiker would do.” Huler’s first challenge came as he attempted to navigate his canoe through the vast and gorgeous coastal spartina marshes and coastal creeks on his way to the mouth of the Santee River in the company of a local outdoor guide and naturalist named Eliabeth Anderegg. “We
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pushed off from where Lawson did, and I immediately had a seminar in battling the coastal winds and currents. Elizabeth was in a kayak but I was in ‘a pack mule of a craft,’” he writes, “loaded with a cooler full of food, a 17-gallon container of water, a tent, flares, an emergency satellite phone, and several dry bags full of clothes, books, maps and electronics . . . it was exhausting. I was essentially a human sail being blown off course by winds, tides and currents, one of the toughest things I had to do on the Trek.” One of his first conclusions from this opening experience was that Lawson never paddled his own canoe. “He writes that he was in a large canoe with ten people including his native guides, making notes as he went; he never mentions the strong winds and tides, which clearly indicates that others paddle his canoe.” On the plus side, like his predecessor, Huler found the spartina marshes he passed through mesmerizingly beautiful. “For a week, I see nothing but Spartina alterniflora,” he writes. “Marsh grass. Acres and acres of marsh grass. When, as I occasionally do, I paddle into a winding tidal creek . . . it all but closes about my head, and I look around and see nothing but marsh grass, look above and see only blue sky and high white clouds. For all the difference I see in my environment from what John Lawson would have seen, it could be 1700.” In the process of learning about the unique monoculture of the Carolina marshlands, he discovers that coastal marshes of both North and South Carolina have been among the best protected on the entire East Coast and are forever in a state of renewal, though always under threat by future development. After paddling into a silent tidal creek off the busy Intercoastal Waterway, he writes: “(One) that I could not have identified on my own in 10,000 years. As beautiful as I found the grasses along the Intercoastal, when I paddled along inlets or up creeks, in their winding silence I felt like I was truly seeing nature at her ease, going about her business as she has done for centuries.” Back on land, traveling with a sequence of local guides and ecologists, The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
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Huler finds wonder in hiking through maritime forests and silent ancient tupelo swamps where scattered families still reside since Lawson’s day and President George Washington reportedly traveled during his famous Southern Tour in 1791. As sociable as he is curious, Huler enjoys bundt cake and coffee with descendants of early Huguenots and meets a local poet-historian who teaches him about clam farming and harvesting horseshoe crabs, whose blue blood is used in detecting impurities in pharmaceutics. A theme that powerfully shapes Huler’s perceptions is Lawson’s own awakening among the coastal Sewee Indians. But if we admit Reason to be our Guide, his subject noted, she will inform us, that these Indians are the freest People in the World, and so far from being Intruders upon us, that we have abandon’d our own Native Soil to drive them out and possess theirs. Aiding Huler’s understanding is a Lawson expert named Val Green “who knows more about John Lawson than anyone else alive,” a homebred historian who reveals Lawson’s intense admiration of the Santee Indians and their living habits, cooking, trading practices, religion, even their sexual practices and Santee burial customs. Both Lawson and his guide visit a mammoth Santee burial mound believed to be more than one thousand years old, which brings to mind one of Lawson’s most famous reflections on the plight of native culture: . . . the Small-Pox and Rum have made such a destruction among them . . . that there is not the sixth savage living within two hundred Miles of all our Settlements, as there were fifty years ago. True to the spirit of his subject, the decimation of the region’s native peoples, including a booming industry in Indian slavery that Huler knew nothing about before researching his journey, becomes a prominent theme throughout his own odyssey. A literal high point comes at Poinsett State Park, however, where the coastal plain land makes the transition to lower Piedmont and the distant hill country is visible. Huler stands at the same spot where Lawson viewed the hills to the northwest and jotted in his notebook: The most amazing prospect I had seen since I had been in Carolina. Huler, who infuses his own narrative with both wit and historical insights, echoes: “I stood where Lawson stood and saw what he saw — though I had a state park gazebo to keep the sun off my head.” • For this veteran old road traveler, the section that most interested me was the collection of colorful flame-keepers Huler meets as he treks inland to Lancaster (S.C.) and the border area of the Waxhaws where Lawson’s path joined the ancient Trading Path used by native tribes for trading and making war for a millennium. This part of the path was later part of the Great Wagon Road that brought tens of thousands of European settlers to the Colonial South in the 18th century. Revealingly, as his subject did centuries before him, Huler takes a deep dive into the past and present plight of the Catawba Indians — the “People of the River” — which serves as touching prelude to his challenging walk through the ever-expanding “amoeba” of Metro Charlotte, a place where Lawson praised the quality of its original water sources by noting, Many pleasant and delightsome
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Rivulets. His modern counterpart, on the other hand, sees mostly the deluge of silt and valuable sediment being washed down the area’s creeks due to the Queen City’s rampant commercial development. “What makes that especially noteworthy,” writes Huler, “is that Lawson was probably one of the last people to have seen the (clear stone) bottoms of Carolina creeks,” prompting a timely coclique on the importance of protecting the state’s urban creeks and waterways. Since there was no town of Salisbury in Lawson’s day — its founding was 63 years in the future — Huler instead takes a tour of the city’s historic monuments and buildings, citing the kindness of the local citizens before pushing on to the ancient Sapona (the original Indian name of the Yadkin River), where he crosses at a narrow spot on High Rock Lake using an inflatable dinghy brought along for just such moments. From there he passes through beautiful rolling hills dotted with tidy farms and vibrant forests that echo Lawson’s own words: We’d passed through a delicious country (none that I saw ever exceeded it . . . The Savages do, indeed, still possess the Flower of Carolina, the English enjoying only the fag-end of that country. On through Asheboro and the Uwharrie hills Huler treks, crossing beautiful streams and Piedmont rivers, including the Haw River at Swepsonville, soon arriving at the Indian village of Occaneechi, destined to become the town of Hillsborough. It’s there that Lawson met a wise Indian guide named Eno Will who taught him why Native people tend to shake with the left hand — “because it is closer to the heart” — but advises his new friend to skip traveling to the Virginia border as planned, where there are rising tensions among the Tuscarora Indians. Instead, they head due east to the North Carolina coast. Like his subject before him, Huler briefly finds mystery and wonder in an ancient part of West Durham called “Hollow Rocks,” followed by a sense of dislocation at how the Triangle’s old roads have vanished under booming interstates and highways. He makes a pitstop for lunch with a friend in Raleigh (“my own home country”) and recovers his spiritual The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
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equilibrium at a musical waterfall Lawson mistakenly believed to be the Falls of the Neuse River, which modern historians say was probably on the Little River southeast of Clayton. Eastbound, like Lawson before him, Huler crosses the Neuse River and revels in the serenity of walking the flat late summer land past farms and rural crossroads seemingly forgotten by time in the vast green landscape of eastern North Carolina. “The walk from Wilson,” he writes, “toward Washington distilled the feeling of the downeast coastal plain: one tiny town after another — Stantonsburg, with railroad tracks, a drugstore, a little bank branch . . . and on Main Street the most beautiful and heartbreaking strip of empty whitewashed two-story brick storefronts I saw on my entire walk.” He crosses the Tar River east of Greenville and follows his North Carolina Delorme Atlas and Google Maps once more through beautiful cypress swamps that announce the full return of the eastern coastal plain. Having trekked some 550 miles over 11 months, he accepts a ride into Little Washington from a friend and finds his way to Duck Creek, where he meets his young sons, Louie, 10, and Gus, 5, for a 5-mile canoe trip to the mouth of the Neuse River and a brief paddle up the creek to a ceremonial finish in Bath. Thanks to his old nemesis of winds and river currents, however, the trio are blown chaotically off course, much to the delight of his sons.
Instead, they load the canoe onto a friend’s car and drive to Bonner Point and put in for a short paddle to Bath’s town docks, where they are greeted with a triumphant cheer by a gathering of friends, family and locals who know the Lawson saga chapter and verse. Scott Huler’s expedition concludes with a visit to London’s Museum of Natural History, where he is moved by the sight of plants and flowers Lawson gathered and sent to British collectors back home, native specimens that proved valuable to future exploration. It’s there that our intrepid modern traveler meets his subject for a poignant final encounter. “Most important to me,” Huler writes, “was just to be near Lawson’s plants — to know they were gathered by his hand, were labeled with his ink, and survived the centuries because people believe it’s worth trying to understand the world around us.” His visit touches “home” when he views his subject’s wellpreserved dogwood leaves and flowers. “I have dogwoods in my yard,” Scott Huler muses. “The dogwood blossom is the state flower of North Carolina. There in London I once again felt like Lawson and I stood shoulder to shoulder.” EB Jim Dodson’s 17th book, The Road That Made America: A Modern Pilgrim Travels the Great Wagon Road, is available wherever books are sold.
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Treetop Songs Return of the yellow-throated warblers
By Susan Campbell
O
ne of the earliest sounds of spring in eastern North Carolina is the song of the yellow-throated warbler. Returning from the northern Caribbean and the east coast of Mexico, males can be heard on territories in the treetops by mid-March, well before many other migrants have even crossed the gulf. This little bird sports a gray back, white belly and wing bars with a black mask and, yes, a bright yellow throat. The canary color actually extends to the upper breast, so it is hard to miss. Individuals also have noticeable black streaks along the flanks. Yellow-throated warblers can be found in a variety of open forests, although they prefer bottomland pines and
cypress. They will also use hardwoods as long as water is close by — anything from a hazard on a golf course to a retention pond or even a major waterway. They have a definite affinity for wet habitat year-round. The best way to find yellow-throateds is to listen for their sing-songy vocalizations coming from high in the canopy. Once you become acquainted with their sound, you may find that they are quite common in many spots from late March through early May. Once territories are established and the birds pair up and eggs are laid, males will not spend as much time singing. Both parents will be busy feeding nestlings and then head off as soon as the youngsters fledge. Having only one brood, reproduction is fast-paced for this species. New families may be tough to spot since nests are usually concealed in needles or Spanish moss on the ends of high branches. Yellow-throated warblers forage along the trunks and larger branches of the trees where they are found, behaving more like brown creepers or their black and white warbler cousins. On the lookout for insects, yellow-throateds inspect the bark and leaves as well as any nook or cranny in the treetops. Interestingly, hardier individuals have been documented here in the colder months. In winter, yellow-throateds not only feed on insects attracted to a variety of blooming plants, but to the nectar of those inflorescences as well. Along our Southern coast, you might even be surprised by one at the sugar water feeder left up for wintering hummingbirds. Should you be lucky enough to spot one of these handsome yellow-throateds, please let me know right away. EB Susan Campbell would welcome your sightings or photographs. She can be reached via email at susan@ncaves.com.
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I have sought the elusive aroma Around outlying cornfields, turned corners Near the site of a Civil War surrender. The transformation may take place At a pit no wider than a grave, Behind a single family’s barn. These weathered ministers Preside with the simplest of elements: Vinegar and pepper, split pig and fire. Underneath a glistening mountain in air, Something is converted to a savor: the pig Flesh purified by far atmosphere. Like the slick-sided sensation from last summer, A fish pulled quick from a creek By a boy. Like breasts in a motel With whiskey and twilight Become a blue smoke in memory. This smolder draws the soul of our longing. I want to see all the old home folks, Ones who may not last another year. We will rock on porches like chapels And not say anything, their faces Impenetrable as different barks of trees. After the brother who drank has been buried, The graveplot stunned by sun In the woods, We men still living pass the bottle. We barbecue pigs. The tin-roofed sheds with embers Are smoking their blue sacrifice Across Carolina. — James Applewhite
James Applewhite is a member of the North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame. Born in Statonsburg in Wilson County, he is a professor emeritus at Duke University.
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The Inspiration of
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ront Street in Beaufort moves at an unhurried pace. The sidewalks are wide and worn smooth, shaded by live oaks that still hold the day’s warmth. Kristy Woodson Harvey’s house sits a few blocks in, a white, early-1900s home that has outlived trends by never chasing them. A low white gate wraps the front yard, creating a small, contained world where Salt, the family’s 4-year-old dog, keeps watch, alert and content in equal measure. The setting suits a writer who pays attention to how people move through their days, and how towns do, too. In this town, Harvey explains, milestones rarely stay private. When a middle school basketball team goes undefeated, Beaufort doesn’t simply congratulate them; it organizes a parade. Cars line the streets. Neighbors show up. What might pass quietly elsewhere becomes, here, a shared event. It’s easy to imagine a writing life taking shape in a place like this. And from this place, observant and unhurried, her stories take form. The mornings set the tone. Harvey begins each day with a short yoga session, a ritual that stretches her body and clears her mind. Only after that does she turn to her writing. “Then, the very first thing I do is my words for the day. Whatever manuscript I’m working on, I come into my office and try to write around 2,000 words before I check texts or emails,” she says. “Once you get into all that, my intention feels fractured.” Her approach is methodical, shaped as much by experience as by discipline. On days with an empty calendar and a quiet house, she can write 5,000 to 6,000 words, carried along by the story as it unfolds. Harvey doesn’t outline her novels; her characters and plots reveal themselves gradually, a process she describes as both surprising and thrilling. “Being an author for this long has taught me that a ‘good writing day’ just means getting to the page,” she says. Even amid podcasts, web shows, tours and multiple books a year, she keeps her mornings sacred. “I try to write with the door closed, then edit with the door open,” she says. “But I do think about my readers a lot, especially when I’m coming up with ideas.”
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The faces and places of Kristy Woodson Harvey’s world By Emmie Brooks Photographs by Jacklyn Morgan
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Beaufort itself provides a continual source of inspiration. Its mix of historic charm and quirky modernity is evident everywhere, from the waterline to the streets.
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he other day I took a bunch of my son’s friends to Royal James Cafe,” Harvey recalls. “They’re playing pool, we’re ordering, and I look over, and there’s a guy at the bar with . . . birds. On the bar. On his shoulders. I thought, this is going in a book. I don’t know where, but he has to be in a book.” Her fascination with people stretches back to childhood. Harvey’s first writing gig came in high school, covering local events for her hometown newspaper. “My first story was about garden games. So, I wrote about an Elvis-shaped squash, things like that,” she says. “I got to meet the family, interview them. That’s how I fell in love with writing.” After journalism school at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a master’s degree in English from East Carolina University, Harvey graduated into the 2008 recession and took a position in finance. Story ideas persisted, however, and she started writing on the side. Winning a writing contest eventually led to a book deal. “The thing that’s supposed to find you, will just find you,” she says. That sense of discovery carries into Summer State of Mind, her
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13th novel, which is set to release in early May. The book grew from a small, lingering idea rather than a grand plan. Years ago, Harvey read a newspaper article about a neonatal intensive care unit nurse who adopted an abandoned baby. The story stayed with her. Later, conversations with friends in similar lines of work filled in emotional gaps. For Harvey, that persistence is a signal. “I know it’s time to write a novel when I can’t stop thinking about it. It just will not let me go,” she says. “This sounds crazy, but I’ll start to hear the voices of the characters in my head. They start to take shape for me.” At the center of Summer State of Mind is Daisy, an NICU nurse who comes to a small coastal town looking for simplicity, only to have her life upended when an abandoned baby arrives at the hospital. It’s a premise rooted in improbability, especially in a place like coastal North Carolina, where everyone knows everyone else. The town’s reaction matters as much as the event itself. “This is something that would never happen in a town like Cape Carolina; it would be like if someone brought an abandoned baby into the hospital in Carteret County, people would think there’s no possible world in which we did not know who had this baby,” she says. “The town is falling apart because, how could this possibly happen?” The novel marks a shift in Harvey’s storytelling. In many of her earlier books, readers meet women after their lives have fallen apart. This time, the unraveling happens on the page. “I don’t normally let you see them fall apart,” she says. “But with this, you watch in real time as Daisy ruins her own life.” The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
Harvey is drawn to those gray areas, to moments when there is no clear right answer and every decision carries consequences. Real life, she says, rarely offers clean lines, and her characters aren’t meant to either. Longtime readers will recognize familiar faces in Summer State of Mind. Two characters from Under the Southern Sky reappear, including Mason, a former professional baseball player whose life spirals out of control after an injury ended his career. Once a secondary figure, Mason steps back into the story with more room to grow. Another returning presence is Aunt Tilley, a character who has stayed with readers since Under the Southern Sky was published in 2021. “I still get emails from people about Aunt Tilley. She really stuck with readers,” Harvey says. “They wanted to know more about her, and honestly, so did I.” The instinct to revisit familiar people and places extends beyond Summer State of Mind and into Harvey’s most enduring fictional world, Peachtree Bluff. Set for release in September, Falling for Peachtree Bluff will be the fifth novel in the series, bringing readers back to the North Carolina coastal town where they first met a group of women learning how to hold each other through change. “I’m excited, but there’s definitely work to do,” Harvey says.
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“It’s like, ‘Yay, we were on Good Morning America, but also my proofreads are due tomorrow.’” And the stories she’s telling won’t stay on the pages for long; several have found a life on screen. Summer of Songbirds is in development with Hulu, while A Happier Life is moving forward with Amazon MGM. “I’m hoping to spend a lot of time in L.A. in 2026 or 2027,” she says. “We’re really excited, there’s just a lot of great things going on.” Several of her other books, including Beach House Rules and Under the Southern Sky, have also been optioned, and she serves as executive producer on all of her projects, guiding script approvals and providing creative input. Even as her stories reach screens and new audiences, the heart of Harvey’s work remains in the towns and characters she knows best. From the pages of Summer State of Mind to the coming adventures of Falling for Peachtree Bluff, from familiar faces to new characters, readers have a front-row seat to every page, every parade and every unfolding life she chooses to share. And in the end, every story returns to a place that feels like home. EB Emmie Brooks is a Greenville native and East Carolina University graduate working in editorial marketing. She’s happiest with a good story — or a view of the Pamlico River. EastBound Magazine
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By Teri Saylor • Photographs by John Gessner
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The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
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L-R: Jim Wann, Don Dixon, Bland Simpson
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ore than four decades have passed since Jim Wann sat face-to-face with the acclaimed author Lee Smith and performed a song he wrote, inspired by her short story “Georgia Rose.” He vividly remembers how nervous he was. “I had read her wonderful story and, to this day I don’t know why, but I was sitting on a sofa in New York in the early 1980s and it stuck in my head,” he recalls. “So, I just turned it into a song.” He played it for his longtime friend and creative collaborator Bland Simpson, who suggested he play it for Smith. “Lee came out to Bland’s house and I sat across the dining table from her, quaking in my boots,” Wann says. “I played it, afraid of looking directly at her, and at the end she loved it and told me it was just great.” The song figures prominently in the storyline of King Mackerel & the Blues Are Running, a theater production of songs and stories about life along the North Carolina coast that’s
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been around for four decades. The show stars Wann, Simpson and Don Dixon as the Coastal Cohorts, a trio of fishing buddies who are staging a benefit concert to save the beloved Corncake Inlet Inn from destruction. King Mackerel recently celebrated its 40th anniversary and Wann says singing “Georgia Rose” has been a special part of every performance. “I’m so grateful to Lee Smith,” he says. “God bless her for writing that story.” Last November, when King Mackerel & the Blues Are Running dropped anchor on its remarkable run, the show’s creators were already looking toward the next horizon. In Mackerel years, 40 is just a state of mind. Over two consecutive weekends last fall, the Cohorts pulled in a full house for four performances at Joslyn Hall in Morehead City and the Haw River Ballroom in Saxapahaw with energy and freshness that made the decades melt away. Now, the Coastal Cohorts are ready to cast off on new adventures and are laying The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
the groundwork for the future of King Mackerel, too. They will always be intertwined. “We knew that even if the performances we did in Morehead City and Saxapahaw tied a nice bow on a 40-year run of the full show, we still wanted to keep working together,” Wann says. The trio has a repertoire of new music waiting for an audience. Most prominent is “The Edge of the Sea,” an ode to Rachel Carson, the influential marine biologist, author and environmental activist who conducted notable research on the coast, including in North Carolina, and wrote extensively about it. “The song is a statement about Rachel Carson’s impact on the natural world, and it has become our North Star,” Wann says. And, like a merry band of pied pipers, Wann, Simpson and Dixon brought generations of audiences along with them. They deliver their powerful message with a healthy serving of nostalgia, resurrecting faded memories of slow dancing at the beach, losing love and finding it again, cruising with friends, and spending a lifetime fishing from an old wooden pier that is as familiar as home. Whether you’ve seen King Mackerel one time or 25 times, every performance feels like a warm hug from an old friend. Wann, Simpson and Dixon began forging their bond as students at the University of North Carolina. All three went on to notable careers in music, theater and literature, but the “little fish show,” as Dixon likes to describe it, has remained a constant in their lives. When they launched King Mackerel in 1985, they were young men in their 30s. Now in their 70s, they marvel over their longevity. “One of the most amazing aspects of the show is the generational reach it’s had,” Dixon says. “I’ve met so many people that The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
have grown up with this show, and now their kids and even their grandkids are growing up with it too.” Quoted in a 2005 story for the North Carolina Literary Journal by the late Jerry Leith Mills (one of the show’s early contributors), Simpson describes the plot as “loose-jointed with a minimalist story line and a lot of songs.” It’s the tale of three friends coming of age on the North Carolina coast, helping their neighbors, cleaning up after hurricanes and rising up against greedy developers. At the heart of it is Miss Mattie Jewell’s Corncake Inlet Inn, which was damaged in a storm and is in danger of being sold to the villainous Greedhead Development Corporation, which intends to replace it with condominiums. The three protagonists plan to stage a fundraising concert to help save the inn. “The Greedheads had crept into our consciousness back in the 1980s when we were aware of the pressure to develop the coast, and we felt that deserved some pushback,” Simpson says. “Our simple idea was that we didn’t want Miss Mattie’s beautiful old Corncake Inlet Inn to be replaced with a high-rise, and that’s really what drove the storyline.” The trio reckoned that any song about nature’s beauty, by definition, was a statement against development, and from there the creative process was linear. “We were trying to figure out a beginning, a middle and an end, and we knew that a hurricane would be at the end,” Wann says. “Once we had the Greedheads, they became irresistible, so we sprinkled them throughout the show and wove them into our theme.” The story closes as the hurricane uproots a new condo cluster that the Greedheads have built and sends it floating out to sea. “The coast emerges as the hero,” Wann says, “and that’s the little slender thread of the plot of King Mackerel & the Blues Are Running.” Originally, King Mackerel was conceived with beach music in mind. Wann and Simpson had set out to write a show for The Embers, recognized as the pre-eminent beach music band in the Southeast. “We were somewhat cautious about it because they were an unknown element as far as theater went, and we pondered if we were to write a show for The Embers, what would it be?” Simpson says. They came up with scratchy old records, cars stuck in the sand, pier fishing, shag dancing and falling in love on the beach. In the end, The Embers, who toured and performed six days a week, could not come off the road long enough to stage a show and passed on the project. Wann and Simpson, who were having the time of their lives EastBound Magazine
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composing the music, had half a script finished, so they decided to forge ahead without The Embers. “We fashioned the Coastal Cohorts, a trio of folk singers that play in an old hotel lounge, and not only sing songs about the coast, but tell stories and give people a great feel for that area,” Wann says. “And we reasoned that we could be those guys.” They needed a third Cohort to round out the group, and Simpson says it took about 30 seconds to determine Dixon was perfect for the role. But Dixon, who was gaining success as a musician, singer-songwriter and producer, had scant theater experience and couldn’t see how he would fit in. “We told him his job was to steal the show,” Wann says. Dixon didn’t need much arm-twisting. “I just trusted them and decided to give it a shot,” he says. On December 8, 1985, King Mackerel & the Blues Are Running opened at Rhythm Alley in Chapel Hill for a weeklong run and returned the following spring for a longer engagement. The Coastal Cohorts started building a following and never looked back. Simpson, who was born in Elizabeth City and grew up in Chapel Hill, is an award-winning author and for years has played piano with the famous string band the Red Clay Ramblers. He’s written dozens of books, plays, stories and essays and holds the title of Kenan Distinguished Professor of English and Creative Writing Emeritus at UNC. He was inducted into the North Carolina Literary Hall of Fame in 2020. In 1975 he co-authored and performed in an award-winning off-Broadway musical production with Wann called Diamond Studs: The Life of Jesse James. Wann, who grew up in Chattanooga, Tennessee, helped launch the Cat’s Cradle in Chapel Hill, which has nurtured many bands since the 1970s and is still going strong. He is a Tony-nominated Broadway composer, lyricist and performer, known for the hit musical Pump Boys and Dinettes, blending Southern roots music with colorful storytelling and defining the actor-musician theater genre. Dixon, who hails from Lancaster, South Carolina, launched his musical career on stages in Raleigh and Chapel Hill, including the Cat’s Cradle. During a career spanning decades, he cofounded Arrogance, a popular and influential band that played all over the eastern part of the country in the 1970s, recording six albums. He has produced albums for R.E.M., and worked with numerous bands including The Smithereens, while also crafting his own solo material along the way. On the rehearsal day for the 40th anniversary shows in Morehead City, Dixon drove in from his home in Canton, Ohio. Wann made his way from Tybee Island, Georgia, and Simpson arrived from Chapel Hill. They began unloading their vehicles, and in clown-car fashion, pulled out a seemingly endless stream of equipment, instruments and stage props that Simpson stores in a shed at his home. Out came guitars, amplifiers, coolers, fishing nets, old suitcases, gasoline cans, crab pots, life jackets, tackle boxes, boat cushions and the large stuffed toy mackerel that makes its appearance at the top of the show when Wann flops it over his shoulder and casually carries it on stage.
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In 1986, King Mackerel was barely off the ground when Todd Miller, founder of the North Carolina Coastal Federation, offered to sponsor shows in Carteret County and beyond. (The Morehead City show was co-produced with the Coastal Federation and the Core Sound Waterfowl and Heritage Center. The show in Saxapahaw was presented by the North Carolina Land Conservancy.) “I thought we would be a perfect fit with King Mackerel & the Blues Are Running because one of the keys to our work is encouraging people to love the coast, celebrate it and protect it,” Miller says. “The show does such a good job of cherishing all the good things we have here.” Wann, Simpson and Dixon thought it was a great idea. “We reasoned that with Todd’s support, we would get to play and have an audience, and they might get some new memberships out of it,” Simpson says. To Miller the show remains relevant. “The world keeps evolving but the stories endure. The natural areas of the coast will continue to adjust and are more likely to survive than the human development that is trying to reside on it,” he says.
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n a warm autumn morning as sailboats drifted along Taylor’s Creek in Beaufort, a flock of black skimmers took to the sky, breaking the silence with their noisy chatter and flapping wings. They swooped and rose, then huddled together in a dense pack on the beach at Bird Shoal on the Rachel Carson Reserve. The reserve is made up of five small islands encompassing about 2,300 acres of estuarine habitat that is home to over 550 documented species of living creatures, including over 200 species of birds, says Ben Wunderly, central sites manager for the N.C. Department of Environmental Quality’s division of coastal management. The salt marshes, tidal flats, dunes and maritime forests on the Rachel Carson Reserve protect Beaufort from storms and are a habitat for wildlife, including herds of feral horses that have lived there for as long as anyone can remember. In 1977, Beaufort residents, civic organizations and environmental groups worked together to prevent the development of a resort on the islands. It took over a decade, but by 1989 the state had designated the land as a dedicated nature preserve. Wunderly says art, music and literature go hand-in-hand with nature and are a force for good. “Promoting stewardship of the natural environment through the arts benefits everyone in the long run,” he says. Wann, Simpson and Dixon together drew inspiration for “The Edge of the Sea,” their musical tribute to Rachel Carson, from the reserve that bears her name and from her book with the same title. It was a work in progress for 15 years and recorded in a studio last summer. The song, clocking in at eight minutes, 29 seconds, features women’s voices, marking a first for the Coastal Cohorts. It was Dixon’s idea to include a lilting introduction to set up the main body of the song and suggested referencing Carson’s
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own words: “The edge of the sea is a strange and beautiful place.” A choir of dreamy voices features Dixon’s wife, Marti Jones; Rebecca Newton, of Rebecca & the Hi-Tones; Durham educator Pattie Le Sueur; and Simpson’s songwriting students at Carolina, Madeline Lai and Maggie Thornton. The Cohorts provide the lead vocals, with Dixon on bass and guitar, Simpson on piano and Wann on guitar. “The song is a rousing call to action, and represents a new path for us,” Wann says, adding that they are at work charting that path, focused on a project reflecting Rachel Carson’s life and legacy. “We’ll add other related material in a way that catches people’s eyes and ears, and we hope their hearts and minds,” Simpson adds. “That’s daunting and challenging, and it’s fun to think about.” At the heart of their future work, the environment will remain a constant. “We certainly want to maintain our relationships with the environmental world and the ongoing need to address its challenges,” Dixon says. “Those themes have evolved into something that matters.” Karen Willis Amspacher, executive director of the Core Sound Waterfowl and Heritage Center and a longtime supporter, appreciates that sentiment. Her family has been a part of Harkers Island for generations. She says the Coastal Cohorts began singing about Down East communities when they needed it the most. “Being in their presence for even two minutes here and three minutes there you can feel their kindness and their stewardship,” she says, wistful about the changes Father Time has inflicted on her beloved coast and the way of life there. If the Cohorts are following new pathways, they expect King Mackerel & the Blues Are Running to do the same. The show has taken on a life of its own. The script and license agreement are available for both amateur and professional performances from Concord Theatricals, and actors of all ages have performed it on stages across the United States and in Canada. “It’s exciting that other actors have performed it,” Dixon says. “In the script, we encourage people to use their own names and insert references to local places so their audiences can identify with it.” The show has played in Indianapolis, Virginia Beach, Cape May and Martha’s Vineyard, among other places. The Cohorts themselves have performed both long form and concert versions of the show all over the country, including in New York City’s Laurie Beechman Theatre in the West Bank Café and at the Kennedy Center. In 1995 they recorded it in The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
front of a live audience for PBS, and it’s still available online. Simpson’s favorite performance hit close to home when his daughter Susannah’s fourth grade class at Seawell Elementary School in Chapel Hill staged an abbreviated version in the mid1990s. At the time, the show gave Miss Mattie a speaking part, and Susannah claimed that role for herself. “The little fellow who was asked to sing the song ‘Shag Baby’ got the jitters about 10 minutes before showtime, and I gave him a pep talk,” Simpson recalls. “He was holding a pair of sunglasses, and I told him if he would put those sunglasses on when the curtain opened, people would cheer and clap, and it was true, the audience went wild.” Wann, Simpson and Dixon plan to devote part of the new year to recording the 40th anniversary version of the show, merging the songs and dialogue into a seamless track. Then they will score it, script it and pass it along to Concord Theatricals to join the original version. And while the most recent shows may mark the final full performances of King Mackerel, the three friends promise their fans that they haven’t seen the last of the Coastal Cohorts. They look forward to showcasing their new music, although Wann likes to joke that future performances might involve sitting in chairs. “The Lord wants us busy, that’s for sure,” Simpson says. EB Teri Saylor, a North Carolina native, is an independent journalist in Raleigh. She writes about business and lifestyles for a variety of local, state and national publications.
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By Bill Fields
T
he newspaper box scores, published on consecutive days in June 1955, aren’t just summaries of two baseball games. The tiny-type accounts of Williamston High School’s Class A state high school championship also turned out to be a remarkable foreshadowing of the future for a pair of 6-foot-3 farm-boy brothers on the winning Green Wave squad. In game one of the best-of-three series against Colfax, “J. Perry,” a junior, pitched a 9-0 shutout and went 2-for-4 batting cleanup. Freshman “G. Perry” played third base and was 2-for-4 hitting right behind his brother. In game two, the Perrys switched positions, stayed in the same spots in the order, and each went 1-for-3 in a 2-0 victory. “Those Perry brothers,” said the losing coach, Edward Bizzell, “are by far the best pitchers we faced all season.” For the strapping right-handers — they would top out at 6-4 and fill out to more than 200 pounds — who commanded the mound, a busy schedule of springtime games wasn’t anything to stress about. “Our dad (Evan) got us started in baseball, and we learned the importance of hard work from him,” Jim recalled in 1981 to the Greensboro News and Record. “But he gave us time off to play high school ball, and he came to all our games. When we got to the state playoffs, it seemed like a vacation from farmwork.” Jim (known as “James” or “Goose” in his formative years) and Gaylord (“GAY-lerd” to his fellow residents of rural Martin County) Perry would continue to flummox hitters for a very long time. That North Carolina title 71 years ago was just a small taste of what was ahead. The brothers — who grew up in the sharecropping community of Farm Life, 10 miles south of Williamston, where their family tended 25 acres of tobacco and other crops — went on to pitch a combined 39 seasons in Major League Baseball, winning 529 games between them, only 10 fewer victories than the most successful brothers act, Phil and Joe Niekro. Gaylord, almost three years younger, would amass the superior stats of the siblings: 314-265 record over 22 seasons for eight teams, 3,534 strikeouts, 3.11 ERA, 5,350 innings pitched. He is the only player to win the Cy Young Award (for best pitcher) in both the American and National Leagues, earning his first with the Cleveland Indians in 1972 and second with the San Diego Padres in 1978. His strikeout total — more than Bob Gibson, Cy Young, Bob Feller and Don Drysdale — is still ranked ninth all-time. He is sandwiched between a 21st-century star, Justin Verlander, and Walter Johnson, the fast-throwing righthander of the 1910s and ’20s.
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As longtime baseball journalist Tim Kurkjian noted for ESPN when Gaylord died in 2022 at age 84, Perry won more games in the 1960s and ’70s (272) than any other pitcher in that two-decade span. Moreover, the only pitchers who matched all three of Perry’s number of wins, ERA and strikeouts were Johnson and Tom Seaver. Jim was 215-174, with a 3.45 ERA, 64 saves and more than 1,500 strikeouts in 17 seasons highlighted by his performance in 1970, when he was 24-12 and won the A.L. Cy Young Award while with the Minnesota Twins. He spent much of his career with the Twins, appearing in the 1965 World Series for them against the Los Angeles Dodgers. He was valued as a durable and reliable reliever and spot starter before becoming a regular in the pitching rotation midway through his career. “I’ve never seen a man work so hard on his own,” Twins pitching coach Johnny Sain said of Jim. “He refuses to be discouraged.” Older brother went about his job humbly and free of controversy. That certainly wasn’t true of Gaylord, notorious for doctoring the baseball with one substance or another for at least a portion of his career. “Manager Billy Martin loved Jim and hated Gaylord,” says Brad Kullman, Jim’s son-in-law and author of the 2023 biography of Jim, Winning Pitch. “He wondered how those two boys could have come from the same mother, saying one’s an upstanding citizen and the other’s a cheat.” Gaylord admitted his transgressions in a 1974 autobiography, Me and The Spitter, written with Cleveland sportswriter Bob Sudyk, in which he revealed learning about loading up the ball a decade earlier from San Francisco Giants teammate Bob Shaw. Perry described throwing the spitter in a game for the first time against the New York Mets in May 1964. “Why am I telling all this now?” Perry wrote “Because I feel the spitter — the greaser — has been good to me, and I want to be good to it . . . I’m not ashamed of having used it in the past . . . As for the ethics, well, the main ethic of baseball is simple: win. I can’t see what’s wrong with throwing a pitch few other people can master that helped me win.” If Perry wasn’t throwing a spitter, he wanted batters to think he was. “If I could mess with their heads and their approach, I’d have a better chance of getting them out,” he told Kurkjian after retiring. “And I loved getting them out.” From the time they had started school (and begun working the fields) the brothers loved baseball, a sport at which their father excelled and encouraged his sons to play, even when their mother, Ruby, thought there were better uses of their time. “The boys work and go to church,” Evan told Ruby, according to Gaylord in his book. “The least they can do is learn how
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to play baseball. They need to learn it. It’ll give ’em some fun when they grow up. There’s no telling where ball can take ’em, if they’re good enough.” Evan had been a star athlete in Martin County growing up, shining on the gridiron and diamond for Williamston High, and he continued pitching for the Farm Life semipro team once he was grown. He threw a variety of pitches, including a vexing knuckleball that locals believed was as good as major leaguer Hoyt Wilhelm’s signature pitch. The Perrys’ father pitched to his sons in their early games, the barn a back stop and the ball handmade. When they were very little, Jim and Gaylord played with a “stocking ball,” old hosiery rolled tight into a round wad and sewn shut. To better approximate the real thing, the boys would stuff a walnut, rock or hard rubber ball used for “jacks” beneath some yarn and cover it with black tape. For a bat, if they didn’t have a nailed-together handme-down that had seen better days, they used a root or branch. Evan’s instruction was basic — keep your eyes on the ball when you’re batting and throw strikes when pitching — and his sons listened closely. “I remember a neighbor saying, ‘All those Perrys do is play baseball, and their dad is worse,’” Gaylord recalled. By the time Jim and Gaylord were in their early teens, they were good enough to join Evan on the semipro nine against Edenton or Ahoskie, Tarboro or Hertford. The baseballs were regulation instead of homemade, with each team furnishing two per game. If they were all lost, the contest was over, much to disappointment of enthusiastic spectators, as many as a thousand people surrounding the field. Gaylord recalled in his autobiography that the fans got vocal during close games. “You’d hear the people yelling, ‘Here’s five dollars for a hit’ or ‘Here’s five dollars for a strikeout,’ or ‘Two live chickens if you bring in a run.’” If they weren’t playing ball the Perrys — a third child, Carolyn, was born seven years after Gaylord — listened to the radio or played checkers before turning in at night. “It was a simple time with simple pleasures,” Kullman writes in Winning Pitch, “and the Perry children never lamented any luxuries they may have lacked. They simply did not know any different. The family shared the love and support of each other and lived life firmly in the moment.” Baseball scouts hunting prospects learned the way to Williamston, first to observe Jim and later Gaylord. During the 1955 state championship season, Jim pitched every game for the Green Wave, dominating the opposition, until the playoffs, when a compressed schedule caused the team to need another pitcher. Strong-armed ninth-grader Gaylord was enlisted to take the mound for the first time, his coach assuring him Jim could relieve him should he need help. Including the two wins over Colfax in the final series, the Perrys went a combined 5-0 in the playoffs, each victory a shutout. They allowed only 12 total hits in those five games, and opponents didn’t get a man to third base. “You owe it to yourself to go over and watch him throw the ball,” the Washington Daily News wrote of Gaylord in 1957. “It’s not only a treat to see such a young boy do such a masterful
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job, but it’ll be nice several years from now, when he’s burning them up in the majors, to know that you saw him pitch as a high school kid. He’s fabulous.” While scouts were flocking to northeastern North Carolina to take a close look at Gaylord, Jim already was climbing the rungs of pro ball. After signing with Cleveland in 1956, he was assigned to North Platte, the Indians affiliate in the Nebraska State D League. He struck out 40 batters across his first three starts, and moved up to C League Fargo-Moorhead in 1957 before advancing to Single-A Reading (Pa.) in 1958. Gaylord joined Jim in the pros in 1958 when he was signed by the San Francisco Giants. Benefiting from a recent rule change that allowed teams to pay players much larger bonuses even if they weren’t going straight to the majors, Gaylord received a whopping $73,500. “He can do it all,” said Giants scout Tim Murchison. “If that boy doesn’t make it, I don’t know what use there is in signing anybody.” Jim’s devoted work ethic and talent got him to the majors in three years. He was asked to go to Indians’ spring training in 1959 and made the roster for his first major league season, going 12-10, the first of his 11 seasons with a winning record. He shined as a reliever when he came into a game at Yankee Stadium in the ninth inning. After giving up a Tony Kubek double, Jim struck out Mickey Mantle, got Yogi Berra to pop up, then struck out Elston Howard. Jim left little to chance as a rookie. He kept information on opposing hitters in a small notebook. “Keep it low and pray,” Jim wrote of Ted Williams, who was winding down his legendary career with the Red Sox. Gaylord made it to the majors for good in 1964 after six minor league seasons, proving his skills for Triple-A Tacoma on his final stop in the farm system. On a team led by centerfielder Willie Mays, Perry became the No. 2 starter after high-kicking star pitcher Juan Marichal. Jim and Gaylord, who had shared a bed growing up until Jim went away to finish high school at Campbell College, stayed in touch with twice-a-week letters on their lives and their craft. Earlier in his major league career, Gaylord bought a short-wave radio so he could listen to more games and try to get a read on hitters he might face. The younger Perry’s teammates quickly discovered he took the mound with a hard-nosed attitude accompanying his variety of pitches. The slugger Willie Stargell of the Pittsburgh Pirates said Gaylord “pitched angry.” Chris Speier, a rookie shortstop with the Giants in 1971, found out early about Perry’s fire. “He was a hell of a competitor, a very, very strong-willed guy,” Speier says. “I had teammates say they hated playing behind Gaylord because if you made a mistake, he yelled at you. They said to tread lightly. One time early in the season, I got a double-play ground ball and booted it. He looked at me hard and said, ‘God damn it, kid, catch the f ---king ball.’ I ran over to him and said, ‘Listen, old fart, get back on that f---king mound because I’m going to save your ass. Give me another grounder.’ You know what, that established a relationship between him and me.” From his position, Speier knew when Gaylord was going to The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
throw a doctored pitch. “At shortstop, you can see the signs, and they had a specific one for the spitter,” Speier says. “You just hoped if a grounder was headed for you, some of it would have rubbed off before it got there.” Dusty Baker — who played 19 seasons and later managed five teams — had 32 plate appearances against Gaylord after joining the Braves as a young outfielder in 1968, batting only .194 against the wily veteran. “I don’t think he threw the spitter against me, but he tricked me. I got the ‘puff’ ball,” Baker says. “He went to the resin bag so hard the ball looked like it was smoking when it came to the plate. Gaylord enjoyed the game. He was a perfectionist, could be hard on people, especially young players, but he made them better.” Gaylord and Jim each had memorable days on July 20, 1969, when man first walked on the moon. In 1964, Giants manager Alvin Dark, skeptical about his newcomer’s batting skill, had said, “Mark my words, a man will land on the moon before Gaylord Perry hits a home run.” Thirty minutes after Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin touched down on the lunar surface, Gaylord hit his first major league homer off Claude Osteen in a victory over the Dodgers. Jim won two games for the Twins that day, finishing an 18-inning marathon over Seattle that had been suspended because of a curfew the previous night, then throwing a 4-0 shutout in the scheduled game against the Mariners. Jim also produced a key hit in each game. Teammates on the 1970 American League All-Star team, the Perrys pitched against each other once, on July 3, 1973, when Jim was with Detroit and Gaylord with Cleveland. Evan called Gaylord before the game and said he hoped his boys would each pitch nine shutout innings, then have the game decided by relief pitchers. “No way I’m leaving a game with a shutout going,” Gaylord told his father. The Tigers rallied for a 5-4 win; Gaylord took the loss and Jim got a no-decision. Jim and Gaylord reprised their Williamston days in 1974 after Jim was traded from Detroit and joined his younger brother on the Indians’ pitching roster. Cleveland finished a distant fourth place in the A.L. East, but the Perrys had good seasons. Jim was 17-12, while Gaylord had his fourth 20-win season, going 21-13. The entire Perry clan — Gaylord and wife Blanche, Jim and wife Daphne, and their children — spent the summer in top floor suites at a Cleveland Holiday Inn. “It was a free-for-all with my cousins,” says Pam Perry Kullman, the middle of Jim’s three children, who was 8 years old at the time. “Pro athletes didn’t have chefs and mansions back then,” Pam says. “Dad worked in the off season. We had a very nice middleclass life, and my childhood wasn’t that different from other kids. But I knew my dad was special. In first grade at Creek Valley Elementary in Edina, Minnesota, my class took a field trip to our The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
house. We walked over, maybe three blocks, and everybody got to meet my dad.” Jim’s son, Chris, followed him into professional sports after soaking up atmosphere in big-league clubhouses and diamonds as a child. “I saw how dedicated my dad and his teammates were to their craft,” Chris says. “They worked hard at it.” After going to Ohio State, Chris made it to the PGA Tour, playing nearly 500 tournaments, winning the 1998 B.C. Open and finishing in the top 10 a total of 46 times. Jim’s grandson A.J. Kullman pitched for the University of Cincinnati. Jim, now 90 years old, splits his time between Sarasota, Florida, and his native North Carolina. He and his wife have had a home on Badin Lake at the Old North State Club for nearly 30 years. Jim thrived in business after his playing career ended with the Oakland A’s in 1975, particularly after becoming involved with a long-distance fiber-optic phone company. “Jim was such a good person and so good with people,” Kullman says. “It really was quite a success story. He was making more in a month than he ever made in a year playing baseball.” Gaylord’s post-baseball days weren’t as smooth. With fond memories of his youth, in 1973 he purchased a 410-acre farm in Martin County, where he grew tobacco, soybeans and corn. By the mid-1980s, it had turned into a losing proposition because of plummeting prices, forcing him to file for bankruptcy in 1986. “Small farming is no more,” Gaylord told the News & Observer. “We tried everything possible, but when you put $350 into an acre of corn and get $150 back, it doesn’t take long to say, ‘Hey, we can’t continue.’ I just wish I had the answer for the farmer’s problems.” On the heels of his financial woes, Gaylord suffered a more tragic blow. His wife, Blanche, whom he married in 1959, was killed in an accident on a Florida highway in 1987 when a driver ran a stop sign and broadsided her car. In 1991, in his third time on the ballot, Gaylord was elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame, going into the shrine with Rod Carew and Ferguson Jenkins. He is one of seven North Carolinians to be so honored, along with Luke Appling, Rick Ferrell, Jim “Catfish” Hunter, Buck Leonard, Enos Slaughter and Hoyt Wilhelm. Evan Perry was right — baseball took the boys places. Two decades earlier, in July 1970, the Perry brothers had been honored by their hometown, some 1,000 people packing the Williamston gym to celebrate their achievements. There were gifts and telegrams, and their high school numbers (16 for Jim, 18 for Gaylord) were retired. “Just remember,” Gaylord told the crowd, “Happiness is a baseball game.” EB Bill Fields is a researcher for NBC who writes about golf and other things. A graduate of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, he moved north in 1986 but hasn’t lost his accent.
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By John Wolfe
T
hree ships sailed up the Cape Fear River on that September morning 277 years ago, flying the red and gold flag of Spain. With their letters of marque, they considered themselves privateers, but to the English colonists of Brunswick Town ashore, at whom their cannons were pointed, they were pirates, plain and simple. Having landed a small force of sailors several miles downstream, they attacked the town in the afternoon, their 6-pound cannons raining hell onshore. The English fled north to Orton, save for one killed and one captured, and sent for reinforcements; the Spanish anchored and set about plundering the houses and stores, breaking glass and picture frames, piling furniture in the narrow streets, and seizing barrels of beef and sugar. Luxuriating in their easy victory, the Spanish pirates filled up their ships — the largest of which was named the Fortuna — with their treasures. A night passed, and then another. On the third afternoon, the crack and smoke of muskets from the town surprised the pirates. The colonists were fighting back, led by a small group of a dozen armed enslaved men and five white officers. Soon the air was hot with rolling peals of naval cannon fire, war cries of fighting men, screams of dying men, a terrible chorus of small arms fire. Then came one hot white flash — a tremendous noise like a mountain cracking in half — and where the Fortuna had been an52 EastBound Magazine
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chored, now floated a burning hulk. She had blown up. The tide of the battle had turned against the pirates. Retreating to the safety of their other two ships, they sent back one Portuguese sailor under the flag of truce to parlay and exchange prisoners, as many Spanish seamen had been captured in the counterattack. But they found the colonists’ terms unacceptable, and so, cursing their misfortune, they put out to sea, joined in the offing by another ship as they departed. The English were left to put their town back in order, bury the many dead, and pull the wreck of the Fortuna closer in near the marsh to salvage whatever they could. They were surprised to find a painting of Jesus in the captain’s cabin, done by an old master of the Spanish school. Everything else from the ship was sold — including the 42 captured Spanish sailors, who were sold into slavery — and with the funds raised the colonists built a new church, named St. Philips. When it was completed, they hung the painting in it. Two hundred and seventy-seven years later, in early
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September 2025, the church lies in elegant ruins tucked into a glen of gnarled live oaks bearded with Spanish moss, halfway down the road that follows the river from Wilmington to Southport. Nearby is a small state-run museum and visitors center, built in the interim. Inside, a colorful mosaic takes up most of the far wall, depicting the battle fought here between the English colonists and Spanish privateers, with a large, time-weathered cannon mounted in front of it. The mosaic, made of thousands of glass fragments, was completed in 1967 by famed N.C. artist Claude Howell, who noted that he’d “never worked on anything (he) enjoyed more.” The cannon was discovered by local diver Dennison Breece in 1985 and is thought to be from the wreck of Fortuna. Brunswick Town is to North Carolina what Jamestown is to Virginia: a place where the past is just a bit closer. I am here for a presentation by site superintendent Jim McKee, accompanied by cherished local historian and author Dr. Chris Fonvielle.
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Mural by Claude Howell History feels especially close today. It’s Sept. 6, the date the main action between the Spanish and English was fought on this riverbank all those years ago. And over the past summer, an archaeological team from East Carolina University working on the site found the remains of four shipwrecks, plus hundreds of artifacts. The team believes one of the wrecks could be the remains of the ill-fated Fortuna. The discovery made national headlines and brought renewed attention to this historical corner of North Carolina. We are joined by 20 other visitors for McKee’s presentation. Dressed in period attire, he shows us artifacts recovered from the site — including wood from one of the wrecks found in the summer and a real Spanish doubloon — as well as replica weapons that would have been used in the battle: .80 caliber smooth-bore muzzleloaders, blunderbusses, flintlock pistols and cutlasses. McKee tells us the story of Fortuna — the Spanish attack, the English retaliation, and the aftermath. It was a small part of a war that evolved from the curiously named War of Jenkin’s Ear but was really about two empires staking their claims in the New World. The Fortuna discovery is significant because, if it really is her, she would be the only example of a Spanish Costa Guarda ship of her size and time period ever found. Emerging from the museum into the autumn afternoon sun,
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we follow McKee down the long sloping hill where Fort Johnson was, to the tree-lined banks of the sparkling tea-brown Cape Fear. Some of these trees are undoubtedly 300 years old. The shoreline is different now than it was then. The boats on the river are different, too: sleek and white and engine-powered, their wakes rolling into and eroding the marsh partially protected by a line of barrel-shaped wave attenuators floating just off the shoreline. I try to visualize the Spanish ships anchored and the battle raging, like a Horatio Hornblower novel come to life. What I imagine is based on what I’ve learned from McKee and Fonvielle, who undoubtedly have a more realistic movie in their heads. But they’re summoning the past too, trying to put themselves in the boots of history in a coherent way. There is much we still don’t know. We don’t know where the graves of the slain privateers, thought to be several dozen, are located. Do their spirits still wander these marshes, or is that just the sound of the wind in the pines? We have precious little in the way of physical fragments that have survived: a few coins, a scrap of fabric, a chunk of wood, the occasional letter or written record. But through these scattered fragments we can peer into the broken mirror of history, and perhaps even catch the shape of something familiar.
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Jeremy Borrelli
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he people who actually find those pieces of broken mirror, who pick them up and polish them and try to fit them back together, can be found in Greenville, N.C., at East Carolina University’s maritime archaeology department. I’m sitting in Jeremy Borrelli’s office in Eller House. He’s the staff archaeologist for the program and has a contagious enthusiasm for his work. As does Dr. Jason Raupp, an assistant professor of history and maritime studies at ECU who, as he leans against the door frame, reminds me in equal measures of Indiana Jones and Tony Hawk. Both of these guys radiate the casual coolness found in people who do extreme and interesting things for a living, like scuba diving in dark waters hunting for shipwrecks. The bookshelves in the office overflow with texts about maritime history and replica models of ships. There are several Tidy Cat buckets on the floor full of fresh water and, more excitingly, artifacts. Much more archaeology takes place in 5-gallon buckets than I ever knew. Reaching into one, Borrelli pulls out a scrap of leather — tagged and bagged like everything in the buckets — possibly from a sailor’s boot that once trod the decks of Fortuna. Another is a piece of sailcloth. I can see hand-stitching done by a sailor long since gone to Davy Jones’ Locker. The level of preservation is amazing, Borrelli says, and quite unusual in their trade. Like the famed bog bodies of Northwestern Europe, the anaerobic conditions in the marsh mud The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
John Wolfe
preserved these soft things, like shoe scraps and sailcloth, normally corrupted by time and salt water. But there’s a problem: The marsh is retreating. Thanks to the effects of climate change-driven hurricanes and sea level rise, plus the increased recreational boat wakes, the shoreline is peeling back like the skin of an orange where there are no wave attenuators to protect it. In one way, that’s beneficial to their work — it’s how the wrecks they found were discovered in the first place — but in a bigger way, it’s a serious problem, as the newly exposed wreck can now be scattered by wind and tide. The pieces would still be there, or at least nearby, but the team would have to work harder to reassemble it in a true and logical way. They would also be exposed — goodbye, anaerobic environment — and the ones uncollected during the period of digging the previous summer could be lost forever to time. And there would be no way to tell whether any one piece was essential or not. It’s not as if they can simply read the instructions for how the ship was put together. Or can they? In a way, that’s what this team is trying to do. Borrelli pulls up a drawing on his computer screen from the Spanish National Archives; it shows the plan and section drawings of a type of ship called a “galera,” more commonly known as a galley. These ships are of the same sort that the ancient Greeks and Phoenicians used in their Mediterranean wars. C.S. Forester once described them as “low in the water, immensely long . . . (with triangular-shaped lateen) sails set on low raking EastBound Magazine
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Dr. Jason Raupp
masts.” They’re a unique shape when viewed in section, like a warped teacup with a flat bottom. In fact, the shape is uncannily similar to some of the recovered timbers. “It sure fits what we’ve got,” says Raupp. The team intends to use a laser scanner to create models of every timber using computer-aided design software, which they can then reassemble digitally to compare with the plans. The project is still in the very early stages, and there are far more questions than answers at this point. For instance, what type of ship was Fortuna? The English call her a sloop, but that’s like calling a car a sedan. Raupp argues that, coming up the Cape Fear that morning, they’d have only the foresail set and would have switched to oar power for maximum maneuverability of their cannons. To the English colonists, the word “sloop” would fit. Fortuna’s captain was reported to be Vicente Lopez, and through the team’s research they discovered records that show Lopez purchased and owned a galley in 1745, a mere three years before Fortuna’s demise. Also, in 1742, when the Spanish invaded Georgia, galleys were used in that battle, which places them on this side of the Atlantic in the same time frame. Was Fortuna a galley? Is this wreck even Fortuna? It’s worth mentioning that the team, despite the attention in the press, hasn’t claimed definitively that they’ve found Fortuna. They located four shipwrecks that summer, and based on circumstantial evidence and contextual information — plus wood species analysis from a timber sample that returned a result of Spanish cypress, lending additional credence — Borrelli says they’re about 80 percent sure that one of the wrecks is Fortuna. But it’s hard to say for certain without more evidence, and Borrelli and Raupp are scientists first and understandably cautious. After lunch, we head to the lab, where the pieces of the wreck
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are being curated under the same roof as Blackbeard’s famed ship Queen Anne’s Revenge. Inside a metal warehouse the size of a football field, we meet the head conservator for the office of state archaeology, Kim Kenyon. She describes how the conservation process works: After a period of desalination, when the water the timbers are soaking in is changed weekly to fresher and fresher water, the timbers are impregnated with polyethylene glycol (antifreeze, to most of us), then freeze-dried. This is the best way to keep the pieces in their original shape for future study, and every single one of these timbers has its own unique features, its own story to tell. The team found 63 timbers over the summer of 2025, some of which were 18 feet long. Many of the frames still had adze, saw or other tool marks on them. One had the Roman numeral VIII carved into it. Walking up to a vat, Borrelli tugs up his sleeves, dips his arms into the water up to his elbows, and removes a dark brown chunk of wood that was unmistakably shaped by human hands, hundreds of years ago, from a time and culture vastly different than our own today. It is aesthetically beautiful — I can see the craftsmanship of a long-dead Spanish shipwright. With a wide grin, he points to holes in it from trunnels (or treenails, literally carved wooden spikes used to fasten the ship together). Would I like to hold it? Yes, please. This piece of the past is heavier than I expected, and I have to support it in two hands. It’s still incredibly solid — a modern carpenter could easily still work with it. It is dense and real, tangible in a way that the past often isn’t, shrouded in the mists of memory.
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here is one more piece to this puzzle. Remember the painting of Christ, pulled from the captain’s cabin of Fortuna? It now hangs just to starboard of the ornately carved altar of St. James Parish Episcopal Church, at the southeastern corner of the busiest intersection in downtown Wilmington, Market and Third. The church itself, a great Gothic Revival structure with pointed arches, intricate pinnacles and buttresses paid for in part by bounty from Fortuna, shapes the city to this day. The painting, having been presented to St. James Parish by the N.C. General Assembly in 1751, has hung on this campus ever since the original church was built in 1771; the current church was built in 1839 using bricks from its predecessor, and was designed by T.U. Walter, architect of the U.S. Capitol dome. The painting is a portrait of Jesus en route to his crucifixion, done in the late Renaissance by the Spanish master Francisco Pacheco, or perhaps one of his students. It is titled Ecce Homo, Latin for “Behold, the Man,” from a quote of Pontius Pilate in the Book of John. To view the painting I was led into the quiet sanctuary by Erin Becker, the church’s director of communications. She opened a pair of heavy wooden doors that guard the alcove where it hangs. There it was, behind a pane of museum glass to protect it from light. It’s still in remarkable shape — when I’m 400 years old, I doubt I’ll look as good — and lore has it that it’s still mounted in the original frame. “I think most The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
people are impressed by the history of it,” Becker says. “The story touches people.” I see what she means. The figure in the painting has downcast eyes; he wears a crown of thorns and a scarlet robe, and holds a reed scepter in his bound hands. There is blood on his shoulders. A striking image, to be sure, but far more striking is the artifact itself — this is a work of art that was painted four centuries ago and traveled across the wide and stormy Atlantic on a pirate ship. It was with Ramon and Lopez, terrorizing Beaufort and Brunswick until the ship it rode on literally blew up, and then was rescued from the muddy waters of the Cape Fear. Since the painting arrived on our shores, it has heard whispers and prayers for independence during the Revolutionary War. During the Civil War, it was spirited out of the church and hidden — I like to imagine it was delicately wrapped in a blanket and wedged behind a parishioner’s wardrobe until things quieted down. But, of course, no one knows. When Wilmington was occupied by Union troops, they used St. James as a field hospital for
eight months and “were not kind to the grounds,” Becker says. After the war the painting was returned to the church, where it heard the gunfire of 1898, the only successful coup d’état in American history, which began just a few blocks away on Market Street. The blood on the shoulders of Christ is not the only blood it knows. It has been hanging in this alcove for about 40 years, a short span of time for the painting but already longer than I have been on this Earth. The life we live is built upon the pillars of the past. What pieces of our lives will make it to the future, I wonder? Who will pick up a fragment on a beach someday and ask, “Were the people that made this like me?” History can feel so long ago, but we can get some perspective from things that make it to the now — like a painting, or the scattered bones of a shipwreck in the marsh. EB John Wolfe enjoys life as a writer, musician and mariner on the North Carolina coast. More of his work can be found online at www.thewriterjohnwolfe.com.
Ecce Homo at the St. James Parish Episcopal Church The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
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RO UGH WATE R S
NAVIG AT IN G
Refusing to quit when the future looks choppy By Harris Vaughan
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n a spring day, the kind of day that wakes the soul, Dell Murphy and Jeff Turner are visiting a 100,000-square-foot building situated 11 feet above the waterline on the edge of the Albemarle Sound outside of Edenton, North Carolina. It’s 2015, and they’re about to merge two rival boat companies that have been building nearly identical sport fishing vessels a mile apart for 25 years. But this isn’t really about business deals or even boats, exactly. It’s about water — the kind of water that builds better boats, and the kind of people who refuse to let rough seas sink them. If you’ve never crossed the Albemarle Sound on the Intracoastal Waterway, you might not understand why this
particular body of water matters. It’s the largest brackish estuary in North America. Boaters transiting from north to south will tell you it’s one of the roughest inland waterways, too. Driven by the wind, 6-foot seas can stack close together on a rough day and then lay flat as a lake on a calm one. “That rough water makes better boats,” Burch Perry, of Albemarle Boats, says, standing in the same building where Chris-Craft once tried and failed to build boats in the late 1960s. “If it’s going to break, I want it to break here.” It’s the philosophy that has driven Albemarle Boats since 1978. That’s when Burch’s grandfather, Scott Harrell, and his fishing friend and eventual business partner, Mac Privott, were literally breaking apart Fiberform runabouts fishing off Hatteras Island, the hulls cracking loose from the decks. Those cheap West Coast boats weren’t built for North Carolina’s waters. So, they made their own. The first Albemarle was built in the back of a tractor shop in Edenton, a town that’s been shaping American history since
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Colonial times. It’s a place where commercial fishermen became charter boat captains who later became boat builders — crafting boats sturdy enough to cruise out to the Gulf Stream and back. Every boat bearing the Albemarle name since 1978 has been tested in the sound with the same name. Every. Single. One. Around 1990, after building Albemarle Boats together, Scott Harrell and Mac Privott decided to go their separate ways. Mac started Carolina Classic while Scotty Harrell, Scott’s son and Burch’s uncle, stepped in to run Albemarle. What followed was 15 years of strong growth and friendly competition — Burch working for his uncle at Albemarle, Keith and Wade Privott working for their father at Carolina Classic. Two families with two brands of boats so similar that even they couldn’t tell them apart from half a mile offshore. What they didn’t know, could not have foreseen, was that those two boat brands were among the few competitors that would survive. When the Great Recession hit in 2008, Rampage went under. Cabo got mothballed. Bertram shuttered for a while.
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From left to right: Zach Grantham (mate), Burch Perry, Warner Perry, Keith Privott, Julie Perry, Josh Turner, Bryson Perry, Captain T. Harris The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
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The fate of every major boat builder hung in the balance while these two North Carolina companies held on through the storm. Brunswick had purchased Albemarle in 2005, and Scotty Harrell retired a year later. When the recession hit, Brunswick started locking gates. Entrepreneur Scott McLaughlin bought Albemarle on Dec. 31, 2008, then Carolina Classic two years later. They built 14 different models between the two companies, barely surviving. Then, in 2015, the Murphy family arrived. By May they’d purchased both companies and merged them, naming Burch Perry as general manager, Keith Privott as director of sales and product development, and Wade Privott as production manager. Dell Murphy’s son Wen, barely out of high school, sketched the combined logo on a cocktail napkin — the fishhook “C” from Carolina Classic woven into the Albemarle “A.” At that moment, “Albemarle, The Carolina Classic” was born. Fresh eyes matter. Local knowledge matters. The ability to navigate rough water matters most of all. Walk into Albemarle
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today and you’ll witness a marriage of cutting-edge technology and ancient craftsmanship that produces boats purchased by clients from the Philippines to Turkey, Lake Michigan to the Mediterranean Sea. Marine architects create 3D computer-aided design models. The files go to Sarasota, Florida, where a five-axis computer numerical control router cuts foam into exact boat hull shapes, accurate to 3/1000 of an inch — the width of a human hair. What used to take months now takes a day. “A hardtop builder was pulling measurements,” Keith recalls, “and said, ‘This side’s about 1/16 longer.’ I told him his tape measure was broken.” But technology can’t sand that plug to a mirror finish. Can’t know a hatch should open differently. Can’t feel when the fiberglass layup is right. For that, you need people. You need the crew in lamination, many from the Outer Banks, building parts in heat and fiberglass dust. You need cabinet makers crafting custom interiors where every boat gets differ-
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ent wood, fabric, layouts. You need the souls who’ve been there for three decades or longer, who know without asking whether something’s good enough. They build them “like they’re going to fish on them themselves,” Burch says. Parts arrive from everywhere — Yamaha outboards from Japan or Mercurys from Wisconsin, Cummins diesels from Rocky Mount, Volvo Pentas from Sweden, MTUs from Germany, and fabrics from around the globe. But the fiberglass work, cabinet building, wiring, finishing — that’s all local hands turning global components into something that can survive anywhere. After months or years of work comes “splash day,” when a new boat touches water for the first time. Equal parts celebration and terror. When they can, they bring guys from lamination who’ve never seen the finished boat and put them on the Albemarle Sound when it’s blowing 20 knots, let them feel what their work becomes bouncing through nasty seas. Last year, a customer from northern Virginia who knew the builders by name said: “I’m taking this boat to Pirate’s Cove. I want to take the guys who built my boat fishing.” And he did. There’s a doctor in Fort Lauderdale with a tackle room full of antiques — rods that belonged to Ernest Hemingway and Zane Grey. On his wall hangs a framed foreign newspaper Burch can’t read, but the photo’s clear: a man beside a 700-pound marlin caught in French Polynesia. “He learned about Albemarle from a 28-footer we built in 1998 for Tahiti,” Burch says. “Twenty years later, he’s building a 36-footer with us.” The boats go everywhere. One’s making a 1,900-nautical-mile journey across Southeast Asia. They’re on Lake Michigan and the Gulf Coast, in Italy and Japan, wherever people need a boat that won’t quit when the water gets mean. Albemarle boats range from $300,000 to north of $4 million now. Semi-custom means every boat is slightly different because The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
customers put their fingerprints on it. A Lake Michigan customer built three 41-footers in 4 1/2 years. On splash day, he’d cater lunch for the employees who built them — Leon Nixon Barbecue one time, crab cakes the next. The waters of the Albemarle Sound aren’t going to change. And neither will its people. They understand that the place shapes the boat, the boat shapes the experience, the experience shapes the people who come back and build another one, even better than the one before. “If it’s blowing 20 knots and the truck’s coming to pick it up, we’ll run it,” Burch says. “That’s when you learn what you built.” Eighty-five people show up every day to a building 11 feet above sea level in a town that’s shaped eastern North Carolina since before it was a state. They make fiberglass dust, sand parts, wire electronics and craft cabinets. Most will never own what they build. Some have never fished offshore. But on splash day, when that boat touches water and heads out into the sound that has broken lesser vessels, they know somewhere someone’s pulling a marlin aboard an Albemarle. “We love what we do because every day is a challenge,” says Keith. “You start with an idea, then it comes into this building as resin in a drum. And then you’re out there on the water, running that boat for the first time. That’s a sense of accomplishment.” It’s not just a boat story. It’s a water story. A people story. A story about what happens when you refuse to sink, when, in coming back together, the ride gets smoother, even in choppy seas. EB Harris Vaughan is a strategic communications executive in Raleigh, certified whole hog barbecue judge, and Edenton native who has raised three children with his wife, Ashley. When not judging barbecue competitions, you’ll find him exploring the Outer Banks and Cape Fear region.
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Karina McMillan: Lumbee artist and generational talent By Liza Roberts • Portraits by John Gessner
hen the artist Karina McMillan was growing up in rural Robeson County, she spent long days outside in the woods and in the surrounding fields of cotton, soybean and tobacco near her house, and long hours with her family, steeped in the culture of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina. Never far from her side were the ballpoint pens and paper she used to draw all of it, and all of them. “One of my first memories is my dad telling me, ‘If The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
you don’t know how to spell something, draw a picture,’” McMillan, now 27, recalls. “I didn’t really know how to spell a lot of things, so I would just draw.” One day in kindergarten at Hawk Eye Elementary, she drew a picture of the school’s mascot. She was surprised that her teachers made such a fuss over her hawk, hanging it in the school’s lobby, even turning it into a postage stamp for the campus mail system. More than 20 years later, McMillan’s hawk is still hangEastBound Magazine
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ing in the school’s lobby, and a standard-issue blue Bic ballpoint pen is still her favorite way to draw. Her subtle, shadowed, soulful portraits of Lumbee and other Native people and their landscapes may look painted from even a short distance, but up very close, the fine detail of McMillan’s hashed and feathered pen strokes becomes clear, emerging from an image as the grooves of a fine-grained woodcut do. In some of her works, she uses acrylic paint in bright hues for backgrounds, clothing and textile patterns, and to create glowing haloes for her subjects. “Karina McMillan’s work is extraordinary,” says Sara Segerlin, director of the Gregg Museum of Art & Design at N.C. State University. “Her paintings carry a power that goes far beyond color or technique. She brings forward portraits of resilience, memory, pain and strength, stories that refuse to be forgotten.” McMillan’s work has been exhibited and won awards and recognition all over the state and beyond, and is primed to find a larger audience, says Nancy Strickland Chavis, director and curator at the Museum of the Southeast American Indian at the University of North Carolina at Pembroke. Indeed, Chavis says, an artist like McMillan emerges from her region just once in a generation. “She will define what this era of native art is for native artists,” Chavis says. “I think that she will lead the way for her age
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group, moving forward along with other greats like Jessica Clark (Lumbee, in her 40s), and Gene Locklear (Lumbee, in his 70s), to really push the envelope on what the possibilities are.” McMillan’s Mother Nature, a portrait of a Lumbee woman holding ears of corn rendered in ballpoint pen and acrylic paint, exemplifies the young woman’s technical virtuosity and her ability to depict her people authentically, Chavis says, without the “tropes” deployed by some artists painting Native Americans. She notes that the woman McMillan depicts in Mother Nature is immediately recognizable as Lumbee, and the corn she holds represents the corn reclamation program currently underway to return ancestral strains of corn to the Lumbee people. Chavis says the portrait is characterized by humility and gentleness, and resonates deeply with audiences who see true reflections of themselves within it. “When I saw it, I lost it,” says Chavis, who is also a member of the Lumbee Tribe. “We don’t have a lot of artists that are doing the type of work that Karina is doing.” Chavis awarded the piece best in show at her museum’s annual 9/9 Native South Juried Exhibition last September and purchased it for the museum’s permanent collection. Corn, pine cones, birds and animals native to Robeson County are among the images that appear in McMillan’s work, The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
Quilted Through Generations, 2025. Ballpoint pen and watercolor on paper, 11 x 14 inches. Traditional Native American Man, 2024. Ballpoint pen and acrylic paint on paper, 14 x 17 inches.
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as are other symbols and patterns that represent her heritage as a member of the Lumbee Tribe. Learning about her forebears and their traditions as a child made a big impact on her, McMillan says, and remains central to her identity as a young adult. Currently working as a preschool art teacher at Cary’s Ivybrook Academy, she wears a Lumbee pine cone ring on her hand and spends every evening creating works that celebrate her culture. “I like making art about it to show people that we’re still here,” she says. “We’re still Native. We’re not riding horses and living in tepees, but we’re still here.” It’s a timely message. Last December, the Lumbee Tribe, which has been recognized by the state of North Carolina since 1885, was finally granted full federal recognition. With a population of more than 56,000 in North Carolina, many of whom live in Robeson County, the Tribe is the largest in the state and the largest east of the Mississippi River. “The history of the Lumbee Tribe long predates the history of the state of North Carolina itself,” Governor Josh Stein noted in celebrating its federal recognition. “The fight’s been going on since the 1800s,” McMillan says. “So I feel like now we’re finally getting what we’ve deserved for the longest time. It makes me sad and breaks my heart that some people aren’t around to see that we’re federally recognized. Like my great-grandma, my great-grandpa, they’re gone . . . but at least I get to see it. This is a big moment in history, and I’m just really blessed that I get to see it happen.” McMillan returned to Robeson County to complete her education at UNC Pembroke after two years in college at UNC Charlotte, and to be closer to her family. It was at UNCP, she says, that her artistic voice truly began to take shape. It’s also where she decided to embrace the humble tool that got her started and has now become her hallmark: the ballpoint pen. It’s what was plentiful and close at hand growing up, when the nearest art store was an hour away. “I thought, ‘How am I going to get these art supplies?’ I just figured, I guess, I’ll draw with what I have. So that’s why I stick to the cheap mediums like ballpoint pen,” she says. To know it is apparently to love it. McMillan says the medium is both more exacting and more malleable than you might imagine. “If you make one mistake with a ballpoint pen, you can’t go back and fix it. So I’m super focused,” she says. “And it creates the most beautiful — to me — the most beautiful values in a portrait. It can go from light to dark. You just have to keep building up the color. There have been times where I’m working on a piece, and I have to step away from it because the ink is wet. To create more layers and more values, I have to come back later, maybe like an hour later, because it has to dry before I can build up more.” McMillan’s use of a medium that’s easy to come by puts her squarely in the Native artist tradition. “It reminds me of a lot of Native art, made out of what is accessible, from traditional to
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what has evolved as modern work,” says Chavis. “Whether it’s grass, pine needles, split oak, clay, all of these things that make our traditional art are what’s accessible.” Native American artists with connections to North Carolina, including McMillan, are the focus of the exhibit “Stories Told by Breath: Native American Voices in North Carolina,” opening March 26 at N.C. State’s Gregg Museum of Art. McMillan’s work — she will have 11 pieces on show — will be in good company. Other artists include Senora Lynch (Haliwa-Saponi), Harlen Chavis (Lumbee), Aaron Baumgardner (Catawba), Coda Cavalier-Keck (Occaneechi Band of the Saponi Nation), Amy PostOak (Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians) and Johnny PostOak (Muscogee Creek) of Three Sisters Designs, Rhiannon “Skye” Tafoya (Eastern Band of Cherokee and Santa Clara Pueblo), Joshua Adams (Eastern Band of Cherokee), Idalis Dial (Coharie), Tim Locklear (Lumbee), N.C. State students Ashytn Thomas (Lumbee) and Victoria Wilson (Haliwa-Saponi), and Gwen Locklear (Lumbee). McMillan says she’s excited for the opportunity to see her work at the Gregg among other Native American artists, and to participate in an artists’ panel talk there on April 18. Segerlin, the museum’s director, says McMillan’s work should make an impact. “I hope more people will come to know Karina through her work and spend time with her iconic paintings. They stay with you long after you leave,” she says. McMillan’s hoping for the same. “I want to be in more museums,” she says. “I’ve had art in different shows in different states, but I want my art to be all over the country, maybe even overseas. I just want more people to see it so they can see who Lumbees are, and what we are as people.” Chavis says the young artist has every reason to believe in herself. “The sky’s the limit for Karina. Her work is so good. I think that the art world might take her to places she never imagined.” EB Liza Roberts is the author of Art of the State: Celebrating the Visual Art of North Carolina, published by UNC Press in 2022. She was the founding editor and general manager of Walter magazine and is grateful for the opportunity to write about the remarkable visual artists of our state.
Family Ties, 2024. Graphite and acrylic paint on paper, 14 x 17 inches. Spirit Through the Grid, 2025. Ballpoint pen and acrylic paint on paper, 11 x 14 inches. Contemporary Miss Lumbee, 2024. Ballpoint pen and acrylic paint on paper, 11x14 inches.
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Georgian Gem
After a multiyear restoration, Wilmington’s Burgwin-Wright House is ready for its close-up. By William Irvine • Photographs by Rick Ricozzi
J
ohn Burgwin was a mover and shaker in Colonial North Carolina. Born in Hereford, England, in 1731 and educated at Cambridge, by 1750 he had landed in Charleston, where he worked for a merchant firm that also had offices in North Carolina. Shortly thereafter, Burgwin resettled among the merchant elite of Wilmington, where he eventually became a prominent lawyer and financier. After an advantageous marriage to Margaret Haynes, of
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Castle Haynes Plantation, the daughter of a wealthy planter, Burgwin received a number of important appointments, including as private secretary to Gov. Arthur Dobbs. Gov. William Tryon appointed Burgwin treasurer of the Province of North Carolina. He also served as the member of the General Assembly from Bladen County. And most importantly, he managed to deftly walk the tightrope between Whig and Tory (an astute tactic for a merchant). EastBound Magazine
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Burgwin amassed his vast fortune through real estate. “He was a flipper,” says Christine Lamberton, the director of the Burgwin-Wright House and Gardens. “Like George Washington, Burgwin was a second son, and second sons were a lot more anxious about their financial situation.” At one time he owned seven properties, among them his wife’s plantations, Castle Haynes and The Hermitage, March Castle at Lake Waccamaw, and vast forest holdings in Duplin County and Fayetteville. He owned several houses in downtown Wilmington — not to mention five ships that sailed to England and the Caribbean. He also owned more than 200 enslaved people. As more of Burgwin’s time was spent attending to his far-flung holdings, he realized that he needed a house in Wilmington to conduct business and entertain. Soon a lot was found on Market Street, and in 1770 an elegant two-story Georgian townhouse
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began to rise, perched on top of a masonry cellar that used to house the early city jail. “People often come to the house and ask, ‘How much did this cost to build?’” says Lamberton. “Well, for Burgwin, it was next to nothing. He had longleaf pine on his plantations, the house was built with enslaved labor, so it didn’t cost him anything at all. Even the decorative moldings were based on designs from Philadelphia but rendered by enslaved workers.” As you look around the elegant Burgwin-Wright House today, it is immediately apparent that this was a home built for entertaining: The dining room occupies half the second floor. “This house was just for business and parties. A showhouse to convey Burgwin’s prosperity,” says Lamberton. “You did business downstairs, and if you were socially accepted you might be invited to a dinner party upstairs.” So it is exciting news that thanks to the generosity of Lillian
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Bellamy Boney — a preservationist and longtime member of the National Society of Colonial Dames in the State of North Carolina, the stewards and saviors of the property — the house has received a generous gift that has paid for a much needed restoration, its first in nearly 70 years. The gift arrived in February 2018, right after the house museum had reglazed and replaced all 41 of its windows with historic glass. It seemed logical to proceed full steam ahead with the museum’s checklist of projects. “It was totally unexpected,” says Lamberton. “I never thought we would close for nine weeks.” Local architectural historian and paint consultant Ed Turberg was recruited, and he conducted paint analyses to scrape down and identify the first colors of each room. “The house
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was last painted in the 1950s, and they were totally Colonial Williamsburg colors — cranberry and gray,” says Lamberton. The results were very surprising. Original analysis started on the third floor revealed variations of green. “We were completely surprised by the richness of the colors,” says Lamberton. “The interaction of beautiful light makes sense for the colors of the rooms.” And it seems that Burgwin was very keen on green. Upstairs, the dining room has been repainted a cool, luxurious shade of cucumber soup. “At first I didn’t understand the color, but when the gold mirrors and silver were added, it all made sense,” says Lamberton. “This was a room to show off, in a subtle way. To be here for dinner, with the breeze coming in the window, the
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candlelight reflecting off the gold and silver must have been a remarkable experience for a visitor.” Two upstairs bedrooms also revealed greens: The guest bedroom is a vibrant green, matched using Kendal Green by SherwinWilliams. The master bedroom features a semigloss trim in Jadite, also by Sherwin-Williams. “To have such a rich color is a show of status,” says Lamberton. “At Mount Vernon, Washington specified glossy paint to reflect the outdoor light and color.” Descending the fine late Georgian staircase, the first thing one notices is the stunning original heart-pine floors. “These had The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
been waxed and stained for years, causing the furniture to get stuck in the wax,” says Lamberton. “Never a good idea, because longleaf pine is already so dense that the wax does not get absorbed.” The wax was removed and the floors lightly refinished. The new paint colors have helped the museum’s decision to flip the locations of the parlor and business office downstairs. The parlor is now a bright and creamy white; historically it was not uncommon for sitting rooms to be white or yellow. The public office, formerly the parlor, is now right off the front door. “This made much more sense,” says Lamberton. “People could EastBound Magazine
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come in from outside to do their business without entering the rest of the house.” The decorating scheme has been changed as well. Heavy 19th century pieces were put into storage and replaced with family heirlooms from the Burgwin and Wright families, among them a beautiful 1801 Willard Brothers banjo clock signed by maker Aaron Willard and dedicated to John Burgwin; and an elegant Wilmington-made tea table (c.1760) owned by Judge Joshua Wright, the man who purchased the house from John Burgwin. “One of the most extraordinary things is that many of Burgwin’s descendants still live in North Carolina, Virginia and Pennsylvania,” says Lamberton. “Facebook has been a valuable tool — many of the descendants have gotten involved through our Facebook page.” The overall effect is stunning. So what’s next on the wish list? “Window treatments and curtains for all the rooms would be a long-term dream,” she says. In the meantime, the house received a grant to install handmade wooden Venetian blinds (original to
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the period), crafted by a small family business in Georgia. “I was very proud to hear that after ours were finished they were off to make an installation at Independence Hall in Philadelphia for the 250th,” Lamberton says with a smile. And there is a book about the Burgwin-Wright House in the works. “We have done all the research, but we want the house to be picture-perfect first,” she adds. It seems to be well on its way. The Burgwin-Wright House and Gardens, 224 Market St., Wilmington. Open Monday - Saturday, 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Guided tours are given on the hour. burgwinwrighthouse.com. For more information, call (910) 762-0570. EB A longtime senior editor at House Beautiful, William Irvine is now a writer and editor based in Wilmington. A committed logophile, he is the author of three collections of palindromes. Photographs reproduced by permission of the estate of Rick Ricozzi.
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Roots of Home
Images by Ben Wester, Zach Wiggin & Cameron Luck
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“
Grand ideas can be born in duck blinds, for many of America’s leading conservationists found both inspiration and motivation from what they saw and felt as they awaited encounters with wildfowl. Leopold’s ‘land ethic,’ Darling’s determination and Teddy Roosevelt’s vision likely owe their genesis to the same wetland cathedrals . . .
— Chris Dorsey, Wildfowler’s Season: Modern Methods for a Classic Sport
“
You know when you look at the early records when John Lawson was doing cartography and early interior exploration, all of his notes were full of waterfowl. All of the names that ducks have come from that natural record. It’s very cool to think of eastern North Carolina as still having little pockets of that paradise that John Lawson found and thought enough of to rush back to Europe and brag about the fowl. Living in eastern North Carolina is special to me because I know I can get in my truck and I can literally lose myself for hours in every type of environment right here.
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— Jerry Talton
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“
All of eastern North Carolina is very much rooted in its history in the outdoor industry. The best way that we can conserve the rich history that we have here is to involve the next generation and the next generation in perpetuity. I think the best thing that we can do would be to pass down that tradition and heritage in a way that makes other people proud to be part of it.
— Tyler Hudgins
Scan to hear the story of Jerry Talton Decoys in Episode 3 of an Eastern NC video series produced by NC East Alliance
Jerry Talton Decoys is based in Stella, North Carolina. Tyler Hudgins is the founder of Drum Roll Charters in Morehead City, North Carolina.
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To add a summer event, email us at calendar@eastboundmag.com.
Although conscientious effort is made to provide accurate and up-to-date information, all events are subject to change and errors can occur! Please call to verify times, costs, status and location before planning or attending any events.
MARCH CALENDAR FRIDAY, MARCH 13
TASTE OF THE BEACH. Sample dishes, sip wines and cocktails and take part in chef-led dinners, tastings and cooking classes during this celebration of the Outer Banks’ culinary scene. Events range from casual brunches and kid-friendly experiences to multi-course wine dinners, live music and hands-on workshops, all to showcase local restaurants and hospitality talent. This event runs through March 15, and ticket prices vary. Multiple locations, Kill Devil Hills, NC 27948. Info: obxtasteofthebeach@gmail.com or obxtasteofthebeach.com. SATURDAY, MARCH 14
HOME & OUTDOOR EXPO. Browse home improvement and outdoor living vendors, watch live demonstrations, and gather ideas for everything from remodeling projects to backyard upgrades at this two-day expo. Shop the artisan market for handmade goods, enjoy family-friendly treats and drinks, and connect directly with local businesses. This event runs through March 15, and admission is free. Riverfront Convention Center, 203 S Front St., New Bern, NC 28560. Info: NCExpos@ gmail.com or ncexpos.com. FLIGHTS OF FLAVOR. 3 p.m. - 6 p.m. Enjoy a global tasting journey through Sylvan Heights Bird Park, sampling continent-inspired dishes and wine pairings as you explore the aviaries. The evening begins with an exclusive free-flight bird program, followed by a self-paced stroll featuring chef-prepared tastings from around the world. Admission prices vary. Sylvan Heights Bird Park, 500 Sylvan Heights Park Way, Scotland Neck, NC 27874. Info: (252) 826-3186 or www.shwpark.com. The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
KITE FESTIVAL APRIL 3
SUNDAY, MARCH 15
BEACH BOYS AND SGT. PEPPER TRIBUTE. 3 p.m. - 5 p.m. Step back into the golden era of pop and rock as The Boomerang delivers a lively tribute to the Beach Boys and Sgt. Pepper, complete with tight three-part harmonies. The energetic trio brings instantly recognizable hits from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s to the stage in a nostalgiafilled live performance. Tickets range from $22 to $27. The Old Theater, 609 Broad St., Oriental, NC 26571. Info: (252) 249-0477 or www.oldtheater.org. FRIDAY, MARCH 20
CHAMBER MUSIC. 7:30 p.m. Reflect on themes of memory and loss during this chamber music performance featuring deeply moving pieces by Bedřich Smetana and Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Performed by the trio of piano, violin and cello, the program offers an emotional evening that honors loved ones through some of the repertoire’s most expressive works. Admission is $40. East Carolina University A.J. Fletcher Recital Hall, 1001 E. 5th St., Greenville, NC 27858. Info: (252) 328-6019 or fourseasons.ecu.edu. SATURDAY, MARCH 21
AGRICULTURE DAY. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Celebrate Sampson County agriculture with a full day of family-friendly fun featuring live
music, food trucks, hands-on activities and local vendors. From pony rides and barnyard animals to youth crafts and interactive exhibits, the event highlights the region’s farming heritage and community spirit. This is a free event. Sampson County Community College, 1801 Sunset Ave., Clinton, NC 28328. Info: sampsoncc.edu. OBX GOT TALENT. 7 p.m. Cheer on local performers as they take the stage in OBX Got Talent Season Three Finale, a showcase celebrating music, variety acts and emerging stars from the Outer Banks. The series invites audiences to enjoy spirited competition and community support while watching talented locals perform in a theater setting. Admission costs $13. The Pioneer Theater, 109 Budley St., Manteo, NC 27954. Info: (252) 305-8578 or thepioneertheater.com. SATURDAY, MARCH 28
ART AUCTION. 5 p.m. Bid on original artwork during this live silent auction featuring pieces donated by local and visiting artists, with proceeds supporting the Ocracoke Preservation Society. The evening showcases small canvases and a variety of creative media while bringing the community together for a good cause. Ocracoke Community Center, 999 Irvin Garrish Hwy., Ocracoke, NC 27960. Info: (252) 928-7375 or www.ocracokepreservationsociety.org. EastBound Magazine
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SPRING CALENDAR
AZALEA FESTIVAL THE STEWS
FARM FEST. 9 a.m. - 2 p.m. Browse the opening of the Farm Credit Farmers Market and connect with local farmers, ranchers and agricultural businesses during this community-focused farm festival. The day includes vendors, live music, food, farm animals, equipment displays and opportunities to talk with industry experts about the work happening across the region. Farm Credit Farmers Market, 3114 Wayne Memorial Drive, Goldsboro, NC 27534. Info: (919) 731-1500 or www.facebook.com/ farmcreditfarmersmarket. THE STEWS. 8 p.m. Catch a high-energy rock show as The Stews bring their electrifying stage presence and genre-blending sound to the State Theatre in Greenville. Known for raw performances and crowd-favorite songs, the Atlantabased band delivers a night of head-banging rock with heart. Admission is $24.25. State Theatre, 110 W 5th St., Greenville, NC 27858. Info: statetheatrenc.com. SUNDAY, MARCH 29
LEANN RIMES. 7 p.m. Experience an evening with LeAnn Rimes as the multiplatinum, Grammy Award-winning artist performs career-spanning hits including “How Do I Live,” “Blue” and “Can’t Fight the Moonlight.” Ticket prices range from $58 to $98. Weldon Mills Theatre, 500 Carolina Crossroads Pkwy., Roanoke Rapids, NC 27870. Info: (252) 536-0672 or weldonmillstheatre.com.
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APRIL CALENDAR FRIDAY, APRIL 3
KITE FESTIVAL. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Watch the skies fill with color during this spring kite festival at Jockey’s Ridge, featuring massive show kites soaring high above the dunes. The free, family-friendly event celebrates National Kite Month and the start of spring with displays perfect for strolling, snapping photos and enjoying the outdoors. This event runs through April 4. Jockey’s Ridge State Park, 300 W Carolista Drive, Nags Head, NC 27959. Info: www.kittyhawk.com. SATURDAY, APRIL 4
EASTERTIDE. 10 a.m. - 2 p.m. Celebrate spring with a family-friendly Eastertide event at the Elizabethan Gardens, featuring egg hunts along scenic garden paths, live music, games and festive contests like Easter hats and egg races. Kids and adults alike can enjoy activities, vendors and seasonal fun in a blooming setting. Attendees are encouraged to purchase tickets online prior to the event. The Elizabethan Gardens, 1411 National Park Dr., Manteo, NC 27954. Info: (252) 473-3234 or elizabethangardens.org. WEDNESDAY, APRIL 8
AZALEA FESTIVAL. Celebrate spring in Wilmington during the 2026 Azalea Festival, a multi-day extravaganza with garden tours, parades, live music and more. Attendees can
explore azalea blooms, enjoy street fairs and beer gardens, attend concerts and celebrity receptions, and take part in experiences like the Airlie Luncheon Garden Party and the Battleship Boom & Bloom Bonanza. This event runs through April 12, and ticket prices vary by event. Downtown Wilmington, NC and surrounding areas. Info: (910) 794-4650 or ncazaleafestival.org. FRIDAY, APRIL 10
IN-WATER BOAT SHOW. Explore boats, gear and maritime innovations at the Oriental In-Water Boat Show and Nautical Flea Market, held at Oriental Harbor Marina. Attendees can tour a variety of vessels on the water, meet local boating experts and enjoy handson demonstrations. This event runs through April 12; times and prices vary by day. Oriental Harbor Village Marina, 101 Wall St., Oriental, NC 28571. Info: oncboatshow@gmail.com or www.orientalboatshow.com. PIG COOKING CONTEST. 11 a.m. Join the fun at the 48th Annual Newport Pig Cookin’. Enjoy two days of mouthwatering barbecue plates, live music, carnival rides, bake sales and arts and crafts, all while supporting local charities. The event is free, with barbecue plates costing $12. 200 Howard Blvd., Newport, NC 28570. Info: newportpigcooking.com or (252) 241-3488. SATURDAY, APRIL 11
ANTIQUES MARKET. Discover time-
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SPRING CALENDAR less treasures at the Inner Banks Antiques Market in Hertford, NC, happening April 11 - 12. This event showcases antique dealers and collectors from across the East Coast, offering fine antiques, mid-century pieces, collectibles, jewelry, art and rare curiosities along Hertford’s scenic riverfront. Times vary by day, and tickets are $8 for adults. Perquimans County Recreation Center, 310 S Granby St., Hertford, NC 27944. Info: www.downtownhertford.com. COWBOY 5K RUN. 10 a.m. - 8 p.m. Saddle up for the Cowboy 5K Ramble, Run & Rhythm in Washington, NC, a Westernthemed fun run downtown and along the Pamlico River boardwalk. Enjoy a full day of cowboy-inspired activities, live country music, classic Western movies and theatre tours, all benefiting the Historic Turnage Theatre. Participants of all ages can join the run and dress in Western wear. Registration prices vary by age and method. Historic Turnage Theatre, 150 W. Main St., Washington, NC, 27889. Info: (252) 946-2504 or www.artsofthepamlico.org. RENAISSANCE FAIRE. 10 a.m. - 6 p.m. Step back in time at the Eastern North Carolina Renaissance Faire in Kinston, NC, where jousting, pageantry, music, artisans and games bring the Renaissance era to life. Running April 11 - 12, this family-friendly event offers immersive performances, with pirates, Vikings and more. Lenoir County Fairgrounds, 401 Fairgrounds Road, Kinston, NC 28504. Info: www.encrenfaire.com or encrenfaireinc@gmail.com.
SUNDAY, APRIL 12
FOOD TRUCK RODEO. 1 p.m. - 5 p.m. Celebrate local flavor at the April Foods Day Food Truck Rodeo in downtown Garner. This family-friendly event features local food trucks, merchants, live music and a scavenger hunt for all ages. Bring your appetite and enjoy a day of food, fun and community. 120 E Main St., Garner, NC 27529. Info: downtowngarner@ garnernc.gov or downtowngarner.com.
SHAD FESTIVAL. Celebrate spring at the Grifton Shad Festival, running April 17 - 19. This 54-year-old tradition features live music, carnival rides, a car cruise-in, art shows, street food and the Shad Festival Parade. With a focus on community and Down East hospitality, it’s a fun, family-friendly event that draws locals and visitors alike for three days of food, fun and festivities. Grifton, NC 28530. Info: (252) 560-7828 or griftonshadfestival.com.
FRIDAY, APRIL 17
SATURDAY, APRIL 18
EASELS IN THE GARDENS. Experience art and gardens at Easels in the Gardens 2026. This biennial fundraiser features 10 private and four public gardens, live en plein air artists and the “Art In Bloom” exhibit, where floral arrangements bring original artwork to life. Cap off the first day with the Grand Finale Garden Party, complete with live music, dancing, food trucks and drinks. Ticket prices and times vary. Cupola House, 408 S Broad St., Edenton, NC 27932. Info: cupolahouse.org. HORSE SHOW. 8 a.m. Watch miniature horses compete in halter, driving, obstacle and jumping classes during this annual Spring Fling Show hosted by the East Coast Miniature Horse Club. Exhibitors showcase precision, training and showmanship across a full slate of competitions, alongside a silent auction held throughout the event. This three-day show runs all day from April 17 to 19, and admission is free. Senator Bob Martin Eastern Agricultural Center, 2900 NC-125, Williamston, NC 27892. Info: ecmhc01@ gmail.com or ecmhc1.wixsite.com/home. DOGWOOD FESTIVAL
SPRING GARDEN EXPO. 9 a.m. - 2 p.m. The Spring Garden Expo brings together local plant growers, garden vendors, homestead makers, artisans and food trucks in a family-friendly setting. You’ll find plant starts, perennials, herbs, garden-focused makers, handmade and homestead goods and delicious local eats, all in a beautiful historic setting perfect for a spring outing. Eastern Carolina Village and Farm Museum, 4570 County Home Rd., Greenville, NC 27858. Info: ecvafm@gmail.com or www.visitgreenvillenc.com. THURSDAY, APRIL 23
DOGWOOD FESTIVAL. Celebrate spring at the Farmville Dogwood Festival, where the town commons bursts with colorful dogwoods, azaleas and annuals. Explore arts and crafts from local artisans, enjoy live music and savor a variety of delicious food from vendors. Times, ticket prices, and locations of events vary. Info: (252) 753-5814 or farmvilledogwoodfest.com. FRIDAY, APRIL 24
PICKLE FESTIVAL. Dive into the N.C. Pickle Festival in Mount Olive, where
PICKLE FESTIVAL
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SPRING CALENDAR quirky contests, live music and family fun take center stage. Race in the Cuke Patch 5K, compete in the Pickle Eating Contest and explore carnival rides, a beer and wine garden and Ollie’s Costume Contest. This is a free event with no tickets needed, and lasts through April 25. Times and locations vary by event. Mount Olive, NC, 28365. Info: (919) 658-3113 or ncpicklefest.org. SATURDAY, APRIL 25
BEACH FEST. 12 - 5 p.m. Jam out at the 13th annual Beach Fest at the Farm, where live beach music from Jim Quick & Coastline, The Embers and The Band of Oz fills the afternoon. Enjoy food and apparel vendors, bring your chairs and blankets, and soak in a day of music. The Farm at 95, 215 Batten Road, Selma, NC 27576. Info: (919) 750-5464 or thefarmnc.com. BLOOMFEST. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Explore BloomFest 2026 in downtown Roseboro, a free, springtime day filled with food trucks, arts and crafts, merchant booths and live musical performances. Join the community celebration and enjoy fun for all ages. Downtown Roseboro, NC 28382. Info: bloomfestroseboro@gmail.com or www.roseboronc.com. PIRATEFEST. 11 a.m. - 7 p.m. Immerse yourself in PirateFest, a day packed with fine arts, live music and pirate encampments featuring sword fighting and cannon demonstrations by real-life pirates! Pirate groups from across North Carolina converge to surrender their booty for a day of swashbuckling fun. This is a free event. Downtown Greenville, NC 27858. Info: www.piratefestnc.com.
MAY CALENDAR FRIDAY, MAY 1
BBQ FEST. Savor the sights, sounds and flavors of BBQ Fest on the Neuse, where pitmasters fire up whole hogs alongside live music, carnival rides and family-friendly fun. This signature Kinston event brings the community together to honor eastern North Carolina’s barbecue traditions in a festive atmosphere. The event continues through May 2, and times vary. Downtown Kinston, 101 E New Bern Road, Kinston, NC 28504. Info: (252) 523-2500 or kinstonbbq.com. HERITAGE HOMES TOUR. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Explore the stories and architecture of New Bern through the Heritage Homes Tour, a self-guided experience that opens the doors to private historic homes rarely seen by the public. From grand 18th-century residences to intimate restorations in progress, the tour
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blends living history with art, music, gardens and the character of the city’s historic districts. General public advance tickets cost $20, and same-day tickets cost $24. Downtown and Riverside Historic Districts, New Bern, NC. Info: (252) 638-8558 or newbernhistorical.org. CAROLINA STRAWBERRY FESTIVAL. Wallace’s Carolina Strawberry Festival is a weekend that blends live beach music, community contests and family-friendly fun. The festival features a 5K run, pageant and recipe competition alongside performances from The Band of Oz, Spare Change and Chocolate Chip & Company. Food and other attractions will fill the streets for this two-day event. Historic Downtown Wallace, 100 NW Railroad St., Wallace, NC 28466. Info: www.carolinastrawberryfestival.com or info@carolinastrawberryfestival.com. SATURDAY, MAY 2
WOODEN BOAT SHOW. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Discover the craft and heritage of North Carolina’s maritime culture at the Annual Wooden Boat Show. The event highlights traditional boatbuilding, boat racing, nautical demonstrations and hands-on fun that honors the skill behind these timeless vessels. Front Street, Beaufort NC 28516. Info: (252) 504-7740 or beaufortwoodenboatshow.com. THURSDAY, MAY 7
TRUCKERS JAMBOREE. Rev up for a high-energy gathering that brings together custom rigs and trucking culture at the East Coast Truckers Jamboree. The multi-day event transforms Kenly 95 into a large-scale truck show and meetup centered on the people, machines and industry that keep
freight moving. Kenly 95, 923 Johnston Parkway, I-95, Exit 106, Kenly, NC 27542. Info: (919) 284-5121 or kenly95.com. SATURDAY, MAY 9
AIR SHOW. The award-winning MCAS Cherry Point Air Show returns, featuring the U.S. Navy Blue Angels alongside military and civilian performers, including returning aerobatic acts and a parachute jump team. Guests can expect aerial demonstrations, aircraft displays and interactive exhibits as the nation marks 250 years of independence. The air show will be free and open to the public, with general admission and parking offered at no cost. 100 Roosevelt Blvd, Havelock, NC 28533. Info: www.cherrypointairshow.com. PIRATE FEST. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Step into a takeover of historic downtown Swansboro as Pirate Fest brings sword fights, pirate encampments, live music and other maritime theatrics to the waterfront. The festival leans into coastal lore and spectacle, turning the town into a lively, walkable celebration of pirate history and seaside culture. This is a free event. Historic downtown Swansboro, NC 28584. Info: www.visitswansboro.org. SATURDAY, MAY 16
BEACH MUSIC FESTIVAL. 11 a.m. - 6 p.m. Dance along the boardwalk at the 12th annual Atlantic Beach Music Festival. Groove to the beach rhythms of Jim Quick & Coastline, whose signature mix of classic R&B and soul keeps feet moving, and the harmonies of The Band of Oz, a mainstay of Carolina Beach music that blends blues, funk and swing. Enjoy free admission, live performances and food trucks, rain or shine. The Circle, 115 The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
SPRING CALENDAR Atlantic Blvd., Atlantic Beach, NC 28512. Info: (252) 726-2121 or atlanticbeach-nc.com. SWEET POTATO FESTIVAL. 9 a.m. 10 p.m. Dig into a celebration that mixes live music, food trucks, craft vendors and hands-on competitions, from a sweet potato recipe contest to a chicken wing cook-off that draws cooks from across the region. Wander through the car show, kids’ area and artisan market. Main Street, Bailey, NC 27807. Info: thebaileychamber.org. FRIDAY, MAY 22
RIVERMIST BAND. 6:30 - 9:30 p.m. Hear a mix of hits from the ’70s through today as Rivermist brings its award-winning variety show to the stage. Known for strong vocals, tight musicianship and high-energy sets, the Fayetteville-based band keeps crowds moving with familiar favorites across genres and decades. Roseboro Commons, 103 NW Railroad St., Roseboro, NC 28382. Info: www.rivermistband.com or www.visitsampsonnc.com. SATURDAY, MAY 23
FOSSIL FEST. Dig for fossils in the public fossil pits, explore museum exhibits and browse displays that highlight North Carolina’s rich prehistoric record during this two-day annual festival in Aurora. The weekend features a dinosaur show, live entertainment, a silent auction and a mix of food and craft vendors, along with STEAM-focused activities for curious kids and adults. Admission is free. Aurora Fossil Museum, 400 Main St., Aurora, NC 27806. Info: ncfossilfest.com or ncfossilfest@aurorafossilmuseum.org. SUNDAY, MAY 24
5K RACE. 8 a.m. Kick off your Memorial Day with a scenic 5K run on Bald Head Island. The race begins at the Conservancy, with prizes for the top male and female in each age group. Registration is $50 for adults and $35 for children 10 and under, and includes a commemorative T-shirt. Bald Head Island Conservancy, 700 Federal Road, Bald Head Island, NC 28461. Info: www.baldheadisland.com. SATURDAY, MAY 30
ARTILLERY PROGRAM. 10 a.m. - 4 p.m. Witness a live artillery demonstration with re-enactors showing Civil War techniques at Fort Fisher Historic Site. Enjoy hands-on public programs and explore the history of battles, coastal life and maritime heritage. Admission is free, and the event is open to all ages. Fort Fisher Historic Site, 1610 Ft. Fisher Blvd. South, Kure Beach, NC 28449. Info: historicsites.nc.gov/all-sites/fort-fisher.
The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
JUNE CALENDAR FRIDAY, JUNE 5
OCRAFOLK FESTIVAL. Join the magic of the Ocrafolk Festival, a three-day, community-driven celebration of music, storytelling and culture on Ocracoke Island. Enjoy the soulful blues of Rev. Robert Jones, Sr., the energetic Blue Ridge sounds of the Jeff Little Trio and many more artists bringing innovation to the stage. Your ticket supports not only unforgettable performances, but also student and community programs. Ticket prices vary. Ocracoke Village, Berkley Manor. 58 Water Plant Rd., Ocracoke, NC 27960. Info: (252) 921-0260 or www.ocracokealive.org. BIG ROCK BLUE MARLIN TOURNAMENT. Watch Morehead City’s waterfront come to life as hundreds of anglers compete for a multi-million-dollar prize at the 68th annual Big Rock Tournament. Crews chase blue marlin and other billfish for big prizes while spectators enjoy daily weigh-ins, live entertainment, and the festive coastal atmosphere that makes this a highlight of the fishing season. Big Rock Retail Store, 710 Evans St., Morehead City, NC 28557. Info: thebigrock.com. SATURDAY, JUNE 6
BLACK BEAR FEST. North Carolina’s coastal black bears take center stage at the Black Bear Festival on Plymouth’s historic waterfront, running through June 7. Experience aerial thrills with helicopter rides and the Army Golden Knights, float the river on pontoon cruises or Lazy River tubing, and enjoy bear-themed activities from guided Wild Bear Tours to Bear-Ology Museum explorations and the “Can You Outrun a Black Bear?” footrace. Prices and times for activities vary. Plymouth Historic Waterfront, Water St., Plymouth, NC 27962. Info: (252) 793-6627 or nationalbearfest.com. CAROLINA BEACH MUSIC FESTIVAL. 10 a.m. Celebrate 40 years of classic beach music at the Carolina Beach Music Festival. Enjoy live performances from The Tams, Band of Oz and Jim Quick & The Coastline, with ocean views and the full Carolina Beach experience before, during, and after the show. This long-running festival is the nation’s longest-standing beach music event still held on sand. Tickets are $35 in advance and $40 day-of. Carolina Beach Boardwalk, Cape Fear Boulevard and Carolina Beach Avenue South, Carolina Beach, NC 28428. Info: (910) 458-8434 or pleasureislandnc.org. HERITAGE FARM FEST. 10 a.m. Step back in time at the Edenton Heritage Farm Fest
and see how life was lived in Colonial days. Watch demonstrations of cooking on wood stoves and open fires, explore steam engines and learn traditional skills that show kids (and adults) where food and everyday items came from. Admission is free. Heritage Farm, 131 Morristown Road, Edenton, NC 27932. Info: www.facebook.com/heritage.association1 or heritage.association@yahoo.com. RIVER RAFT RACE. 10 a.m. - 5 p.m. Watch teams launch homemade paddle-andpedal rafts onto the Trent River as creativity takes the stage in this spirited race. From competitive builds to the crowd-pleasing “Anything That Floats” entries, participants vie for trophies, cash prizes and fan-favorite bragging rights. On shore, Union Point Park fills with live music, food vendors and family activities that turn the riverfront into a full day of celebration. This event is free for spectators. Union Point Park, 210 E Front St., New Bern, NC 28560. Info: (252) 637-3111 or thegreattrentriverraftrace.com. WEDNESDAY, JUNE 10
HAIRSPRAY. Experience the high-energy summer musical Hairspray at the Carolina Civic Center Historic Theater, filled with laughter, romance and 1960s hits. Follow Tracy Turnblad’s dream to dance on a local TV show, brought to life with spectacular staging and a talented cast. The show will run through June 14, and times vary. Ticket prices range from $15 to $30. Carolina Civic Center Historic Theater, 315 N Chestnut St., Lumberton, NC 28358. Info: (910) 738-4339 or carolinaciviccenter.com. SATURDAY, JUNE 13
ARTS BY THE SEA. 9 a.m. - 5 p.m. Swansboro’s Arts by the Sea Festival brings a full day of creativity to the historic waterfront district. Stroll coastal streets lined with awardwinning pottery, jewelry, paintings, stained glass, fiber art and more, while enjoying live local music at the Pug Pavilion. Visitors can also sample local cuisine, explore boutiques or take to the water with kayaking, cruises and Bear Island ferry trips. Historic downtown Swansboro, Swansboro, NC 28584. Info: www.visitswansboro.org/arts-by-the-sea. KOOL & THE GANG. 6:30 p.m. Kool & The Gang bring their signature funk, R&B and party anthems to the waterfront, delivering a high-energy show for fans of all ages. Expect a mix of classic hits and timeless grooves in an outdoor setting. Ticket prices vary. Roanoke Island Festival Park, 1 Festival Park, Manteo, NC 27954. Info: www.roanokeisland.com or info@livefromobx.com. EB
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EASTWORDS
Sayin’s Fixin’ to Disappear Southern culture on the skids, for real Celia Rivenbark
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Southern “tawkers.” We aren’t perfect. We foolishly listened to Molly Hatchet at decibels that now send us lurching toward the hearing aid counter at Costco, but we damn sure knew how to leave off the “g” at the end of a word. I realized my daughter and I grew up in very different linguistic worlds when she stared at me with the same curiosity a Yankee might demonstrate discovering an endcap full of “chitlins” at Whole Foods. “Why do you say ‘fixing to’?” she asked one day. OK, first of all . . . LITTLE MISSY . . . it’s “fixin’ to,” not “fixing to.” “Why do you say it?” she persisted. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe because it’s what I grew up with and I’m trying to preserve the luscious unique nature of Downeast speak so it doesn’t disappear entirely.” “Hmmmm,” she said. OK, I’m lying. It was more like “Hm.” Despite providing a loving home and steady guidance over the entirety of her childhood, I had somehow managed to raise up a child who talks just like the AI lady who tells me to stay on the line because my call is very important to her. And other lies. I wanted to tell Sophie she was “gettin’ above her raisin’” but she would probably just press the Google Translate on her phone to figger out what I was saying. It wouldn’t know pea-turkey-squat about any of that. All this got me to thinking about a mom I met way back when our girls were entering kindergarten together. Having completed a battery of tests to determine aptitude and so forth, my new mom-friend, when asked how her daughter did, reported: “She won’t no genius, but she done all right.” I know. Goosebumps, right? It goes without saying her daughter has zero Southern accent now, and I’m sure my old friend mourns its passing just as much as I do. OK, maybe not quite that much. EB Celia Rivenbark is a New York Times bestselling author who wouldn’t think of living anywhere but Downeast. The Art & Soul of the Coastal Plain
ILLUSTRATION BY HARRY BLAIR
T
he Bible says, “Sharper than a serpent’s tooth is an ungrateful child.” But where in the Good Book is a proper description of the particular pain a mama experiences upon hearing her bubbly, blonde-headed cherub birthed in the land of “Lawsey Mercy!” talking, well, like a Californian? You know. That no-accent accent. Free of intonation and idiom alike. The first time I noticed my daughter, implausibly, impossibly DID NOT HAVE a Southern accent, let alone a Downeast North Carolina one, Sophie was in middle school. It hit me all at once. Where was the accent of my people — HER PEOPLE — revered in my own mind anyway for its billowy softness? No, no. She and all her friends might as well have been raised in San Diego. A lovely city of which I am fond and where I had the poor judgment to order grits for breakfast. The waitress’ laughter still haunts my dreams. “What is guh-rit?” she asked, fairly doubling over with laughter. Grrrrrr. It wasn’t just the request for a superior breakfast staple that amused her. It was my massaging of that middle part of a onesyllable word elegantly stretched like pizza dough and manipulated into at least three or four syllables that tickled her. I just assumed all those stories I’ve read about the disappearing Southern accent in The New York Times and The Atlantic and so forth wouldn’t apply to eastern North Carolina. But reality had “smacked me upside the haid.” My own daughter, the fruit of my cellulite-riddled loins, had no accent at all. NONE. The shame of this was almost too much to bear but it ran both ways. I couldn’t help but notice she visibly WINCED when I said, while having dinner with some boyfriend of hers, I was “chewing high.” I felt old, outdated, a stranger in my own homeland. You may be thinking “Drama much?” but that is probably because you’re from the Northeast, bless your heart. The reason for our accent and idioms disappearing faster’n nanner puddin’ at a church picnic, is mostly blamed on — I mean, attributed to — migration patterns from big cities to Southern suburbs and beyond. Lured by lower taxes and warmer weather, families have migrated to the South more than all other regions combined. Anecdotally, almost all my daughter’s school friends had at least one parent from the Northeast or Midwest. I have come to realize mine is the last generation of true
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