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“Page 8… the real Oriental, the one he’d known as a child and young man, was the one inhabited by families with ancestors who had resided in the area since colonial times. People like Judge McCall and Sheriff Harris, Eugenia Wilcox, and the Collier and Bennett families. They were the ones who’d always owned the land and farmed the crops and sold the timber and established the businesses; they were the powerful, invisible undercurrent in a town that had always been theirs. And they kept it the way they wanted.”

Some real history: 400 years ago Farnifold Green plopped down along the shores of what’s now Green’s Creek. African slaves and descendents of French Hugenots, among others, followed. In the late 1800’s some Outer Banks families came and laid out the present-day town of Oriental and named it after an Outer Banks shipwreck.

The timber industry thrived for a decade or two … but that was about a hundred years ago. Farming and fishing then became the mainstay of Oriental’s economy. In the 1960’s the prevailing winds drew sailors from Raleigh and Greensboro and eventually, sailors from out of state. That fueled the real estate market – and tourism — and brought in the retirees Sparks references.

Putting aside the fishing fleets and that industry, most of the shops and businesses in Oriental are owned and run by people who aren’t part of any old families here — they are, to use the local nomenclature, “came heres” rather than “born heres.” That “powerful, invisible undercurrent” Sparks writes about, does from time to time make itself felt in matters of turf — literal and otherwise. The book that tackles that issue head-on has yet to be written.

“The Best of Me” has an older character reminiscing about a long-time — but now gone — hamburger joint:

Page 30: “ …. he revealed that every now and then he used to take her dancing at Red Lee’s Grill.”

Red Lee’s closed in the past decade. Red’s daughter, Georgie Powell still operates her hair salon right next door to where the grill once turned out 25 cent hamburgers. The sign from Red Lee’s can be seen in Oriental’s History Museum just on the other side of Broad Street. (The museum has the grill’s jukebox, too.)

Page 40: “Turning toward the Neuse, he recalled that it was the widest river in the United States by the time it reached Pamlico Sound, a fact that few people knew. He’d won more than a few bets on that piece of trivia…. “

A lovely factoid. Maybe now, with a bestselling author behind it, this curiosity of geography will become more widely known. (Bets now may be harder to win…)

Page 71 “The bed and breakfast was about what he’d expected: four bedrooms upstairs with a kitchen, dining room and seating area downstairs. The owners, unsurprisingly, favored a sailing theme; miniature wooden sailboats adorned the end tables, and paintings of schooners hung on the walls. Above the fireplace was an ancient boat wheel, and tacked to the door was a map of the river, marking the channels.”

Page 72: “The road was quiet as he entered Oriental’s small downtown. He passed two antiques stores, a hardware store, and a few real estate offices; on the opposite side of the street, Irvin’s Diner was already open for business, with a handful of cars parked out front.”

The mention of real estate is a realistic touch; it is one of the most-represented industries in town, with at least five realty offices inside the town limits, and a sixth just outside.

In real life, the closest to the diner experience would be Brantley’s Village Restaurant.

Our hero continues his morning run in “The Best of Me”‘s Oriental…

“Page 72 … the fog on the river had begun to lift, and breathing deeply, he caught the living scent of salt and pine. …. Near the marina, he passed a bustling coffee shop. ….. he jogged past a rustic bait shop. He passed the First Baptist Church, marveling at the stained-glass windows and trying to recall whether he’d even noticed them as a child….”

We do get fog on the Neuse River, sometimes spectacularly. But the smell of salt water and pine comes through only after hurricanes or severe nor’easters have cracked a few trunks and pushed water ashore. On a non-storm day, one would have to breathe very, very deeply – even when out in a boat on our brackish water – in order to soak that up that smell. As shorefront towns go, we’re a low-sodium brackish water experience.

There is no bait shop, rustic or otherwise.

Page 81 “.. the Tidewater, a hole-in-the-wall just outside town that was almost the only place nearby that offered any kind of nightlife. He’d drink some beer, play some pool…”

Just a mile or two outside of town is an establishment with the name Tidewater on a sign out front. It’s a real estate office.

The pool tables aren’t outside of town anymore. In October, pool tables came much closer to the center of Oriental, at the corner of Hodges and Broad. The owner of the Steamer restaurant, which was flooded by Hurricane Irene (and before that, Isabel) has turned that space in to a pool hall.

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Posted Monday November 7, 2011 by Melinda Penkava