CityView Magazine

Stop Where the Parking Lot's Full Any town worth its salt should have a meeting place, a diner where locals can go to chew the fat between gulps of cof- fee and swigs of sweet tea. In Eastover that place is the Corner Grill. Go there during lunch or breakfast on a weekday and it's nearly standing room only. My son Silas and I dropped by on a drowsy Saturday aſternoon, just before closing time at 2, and had the lunch counter mostly to ourselves. Sharon Moore and her daughter Jes- Jim and Diane Musselwhite at the Corner Grill in Eastover dition for New Year's Eve – dropping an oversized flea down a pole. Times Square has its ball. Raleigh has its acorn. Fayetteville has its dogwood. Eastover has its flea. Mayor McLaurin met me that De- cember day outside the Eastover Com- munity Center, where a pole marked with the numbers one through ten loomed toward the gray crowns of the white oaks. It looked like one of those high striker games at a carnival. McLaurin introduced me to a three- foot tall, 30-pound flea made of foam, plywood and wire. "Well, I think it needs to go back to your heritage," he told me. "We had to do something that was original, a lit- tle quirky." And thus the Flea Hill Flea Drop scratched its way into the annals of Year's Eve celebrations. Long before Bayer Advantage or any original-and-a-little-quirky New other flea-fighting goo oozed beneath a canine's coat, Eastover was known as Flea Hill. Locals say the sandy area had a flea problem something awful back in the 1800s. One story goes that hogs and goats has fled Flea Hill, which long ago was itching for a more inviting name. The Flea Hill Township was eventually re- named the Eastover Township because of its location east over the Cape Fear River from Fayetteville. It wasn't until July 26, 2007 that Eastover became in- corporated as a town by the North Car- olina legislature. Charles McLaurin, the man with the pest on a pole, became its first mayor. A group of local citizens called Pro- gress Eastover had campaigned for a couple of years to incorporate Eastover in hopes of avoiding possible annexa- tion by Fayetteville. They wanted to craſt their own identity, chart their own destiny, country-road appeal of the place. Eastover has about 3,700 residents, protect the wide-spot-in-a- a number that's held steady for the last decade. Within the town limits is the Eastgate neighborhood, a modern sub- division of brick-and-vinyl two-stories on small lots. There's an IGA grocery store, a drug would sleep beneath a community tav- ern, ensuring a robust flea population. Another tale has it that dogs would snooze under the church and unleash a plague of fleas on the flock. The pastor would hold his Bible with one hand and scratch with the other. So I've heard. By mercy and grace the flea problem 68 | September/October • 2012 sica Ramirez own the diner and, as usu- al, they were both behind the counter taking orders, shaping hamburger pat- ties with their hands and slapping them on the grill. I always come here for the hamburgers. I get mine all the way – chili, slaw, mustard, onions. The Corner Grill draws a dedicated group of eaters from within and well beyond Eastover. "They come from town (Fayetteville) just to eat out here," Moore said as my patty hissed behind her. "They come from Hope Mills just to eat out here." And people come as if eating here were as routine and necessary as brush- ing one's teeth or combing one's hair. "We have those that we feed six days a week," Moore told me. "Yeah, we feed them the same thing." "The same thing," her daughter chimed in with emphasis. "If they don't show up, we try to find out where they're at," Moore said. "Yeah, we're huntin' 'em." In Eastover, there are no fast food store named Eastover Drug, a BP gas station, a Dollar General, a pediatri- cian's office, a dentist's office, even a bed and breakfast. There it is, right along Dunn Road – the main road – in Eastover: Gloria's and Edgar's Bed and Breakfast. It's a colonial-style, two-sto- ry brick house with a white-columned porch on both levels. Perfect for sitting in one of the wicker chairs or porch swing with a morning cup of coffee. joints boasting about billions and bil- lions served. You can't order the exact same lunch in Eastover as somebody in West Palm Beach. Most every business here is homegrown and uniquely Eas- tover. Moore shared something with me that her late husband shared with her as a guiding principle. "And I probably live by it," she said. "If you've got something in your community, a service that it can provide for you, go to it. Even though you pay more, those people – if some- thing were to happen to you – they'll help you, whereas these chains won't. And it's true." I finished my locally flavored burger and fries; Silas finished his hot dog with

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