My sister had married a Raleigh boy and in 1993 strongly recommended that I check out “Oriental, the Sailing Capital” of North Carolina, as a possible location to build my Empire fixing boats.

I was dead tired when I finally found the tiny town of Oriental at the very end of NC HWY 55, on a clear and warm October evening.

I was abruptly forced to stop in the center of town as a herd of people crossed the dark and narrow “Main Street,” right in front of me. They were all heading off to my left to join a larger crowd that was surrounding what appeared to be the Town Hall. I was left in the middle of the road, wondering what the hell was going on?

I elbowed my way into the bushes…

The building was so full of people that the Double doors on both ends were wide open with people standing outside eight or ten deep. Every window in the building was also wide open, with people standing in the bushes three or four deep around each window trying to listen and be part of whatever was going on inside.  I had never seen anything like this before in my hometown of NYC…except at Madison Square Garden when they were sold out…

So, I parked my truck, climbed into the bushes, elbowing my way up front to one of the windows, and said to the guy next to me, “Yo Bub, what’s going on here?” The first thing he said was “You’re not from around here, are you?” To which I agreed, I was not… After he got over whatever it was that shocked him… he explained that a Very Large Marina was being proposed for the Oriental waterfront and it was a very controversial issue within the town. Half the town thought it was a great idea the other half a terrible idea…

I didn’t know anything about the issues being discussed… But for me, a fixer of boats, big marinas in the neighborhood would be good for business. I tried to hear what was going on, it was a passionate debate among the town’s people… that I was sure would spark at least one fist fight…

But the small-town Mayor pulled the plug on all that, and suggested that the Marina issue be tabled until additional information could be gathered and assessed for the next town meeting a month later…

As the meeting ended, many spirited conversations emerged among the various groups that had formed outside…  Knowing I could learn a lot about the people and the town, I did my best to drift from group to group quietly listening… As I joined each group, I was met with a gaze like I had three heads… then room was made in the circle for me to join, and the conversation resumed… Most perplexing and most amazing.

What impressed me the most was the participation of the towns people in the business of the town…it occurred to me that; if Oriental ever goes to hell in a handbasket… it would truly be because the majority of town residents thought that “whatever” was a good idea… That was nothing like the way things were done back home, in NYC, where none of the citizens cared, and the big money did all the talking anyway.

You’re not from around here, are you?

At breakfast the following morning at the town’s one and only “Greasy Spoon,” Brantley’s Village Restaurant, the waitress greeted me with “Good Morning Hun… You’re not from around here, are you?”

I finally asked… How could you tell? She said she “knew all the people around here” and since she didn’t know me… I must not have been from around here… She laughed at my shock and amazement… it never occurred to me that a person could actually “Know” all the people “Around Here” … damn sure couldn’t use that trick back home in the Bronx…