Five-year-old Carla Torrey often played alone on the beach in Ocean City, building sandcastles under the watchful eye of a neighbor.

Less than a mile in either direction, she could see throngs of strangers jockeying for space, their umbrellas and lounge chairs jumbled together. But here in 1960, along this serene stretch, Torrey’s playmates were the waves and the breeze, the sand and the sky. The princess of Ocean City danced in the foam, vaguely understanding that she enjoyed a special privilege. Ocean City was a beach with property owned by Black people at a time when African Americans weren’t allowed on other beaches.

Ocean City has grown from a vacant stretch of sand at the north end of Topsail Island (top, in 1950), to a destination beach for Black families (bottom, in 1953), to a thriving historic African American community. Photography courtesy of Ocean City Beach Citizens Council

“It was so crowded on that end,” Torrey says today, waving a hand to the south, toward Surf City, and then in the other direction, toward North Topsail. “And crowded on the other end. I was like, ‘Wow, what’s so special about me?’ ”

For the co-chair of the Ocean City Jazz Festival, the answer is now clear: Her parents and neighbors had the vision, means, and tenacity to secure the area as an exceedingly rare gift for future generations. There are dozens of seaside towns along North Carolina’s coastline, but Ocean City, founded in 1949, is the state’s oldest continuously sustained African American beach community. Torrey’s father, William Eaton, was Ocean City’s principal builder. Now, she and the peers she grew up alongside are dedicated to preserving its history.

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By the 1980s, there were 120 single-family homes in Ocean City, plus a restaurant and a pier where fish were always biting. Most homeowners lived and worked elsewhere, but each summer their coastal vacation houses buzzed with crab boils, bridge parties, and communal gatherings. In 1955, the Rev. Edwin E. Kirton, rector of St. Mark’s Episcopal Church in Wilmington, established Camp Oceanside, the first Episcopal camp for Black children in the Diocese of East Carolina. The camp drew hundreds of kids annually for two weeks of fishing, feasting, and fellowship.

Carla and Craig Torrey celebrate their community in many ways, including as co-chairs of the annual Ocean City Jazz Festival. photograph by Chris Rogers

Teens from the nearby Woodside, Edgecombe, and Jacksonville neighborhoods flocked to the jukebox at the Ocean City Terrace restaurant, and Black Marines from Montford Point came to shoot pool. Fishing enthusiasts of all races, including Lumbee and other Indigenous groups who faced discrimination at other beaches, reeled in mackerel, mullet, spots, and trout. From the youngest to the oldest, the bonds formed in Ocean City held for lifetimes and kept generations returning year after year.

“It was just a place to come and relax and not have the pressure,” Torrey says. “I think that’s what they were looking for, and that’s why it was such a haven for everyone.”

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On a hot Fourth of July weekend in 2024, hundreds crowd under a huge domed tent set up on a grassy tract across Island Drive from the Wade H. Chestnut Memorial Chapel, the former St. Mark’s chapel that’s now named for the community’s primary developer. They’re here for the Ocean City Jazz Festival, whose opening ceremony has brought together performers and politicians, curious locals and music lovers from as far away as Alabama and New York. This year’s festival is particularly special, as it coincides with the community’s 75th anniversary. Everybody’s decked out in white, per the dress code, and grateful for the breeze that relieves the 90-degree heat.

Earlier, the office of Gov. Roy Cooper issued a proclamation declaring Ocean City “a sanctuary of heritage and pride among its residents and visitors for 75 years” and “a pioneering community in a time of segregation.” But the day’s highlight is North Carolina Poet Laureate Jaki Shelton Green. With her signature funky spectacles and an air that’s distinguished but not stuffy, she addresses the crowd, invoking the spirits of the community’s founders in longform verse.

Ocean City Jazz Festival welcomed saxophonist Wayne Braxton of The Braxton Brothers to its stage last year. photograph by Frame by Frame with Danny

“They are here now, standing in the shadows, whispering in our hearts and ears,” Green intones in her velvety voice. “Free men and not-so-free men dreamed a dream in 1949. A dream that we are still holding today as we dance, sing, and celebrate under the same stars. We stand here now, feasting from the vision of plenty that was sown by the blood, sweat, and tears of Black people who dared to dream out loud.”

That dream, conceived during the darkest days of Jim Crow, was of a safe, oceanfront retreat for Black families to relax without fear of intimidation. But even African Americans who amassed wealth were often thwarted from fully enjoying it, and owning a vacation home under segregation took more than just a robust bank balance. It took an unshakable confidence, despite all the powers arrayed against you, that your community not only deserved but would have the best.

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Despite the odds, in 1949, Edgar Yow — a white attorney and former mayor of Wilmington — teamed up with Wade Chestnut and his siblings Bertram, Robert, and Louise to attempt to create a Black resort town. Yow purchased the land, and with the Chestnuts, who owned a successful automotive repair business in Wilmington, as well as other Black and white businessmen, formed a multiracial corporation of investors.

Wade devoted his time to developing the community and began scouting potential home buyers from organizations of Black entrepreneurs, doctors, lawyers, and educators. He hosted oyster roasts on the beach to give them a feel for what summer living could look like. The strategy worked. Professionals of all kinds, many of them active in the civil rights movement, purchased beachfront lots, building cinderblock homes on streets named after founding families.

One homeowner, George Greene, was the first African American district court judge in Wake County. Another, Dr. Leroy Upperman, was the prominent physician for whom the University of North Carolina Wilmington’s Upperman African American Cultural Center is named.

Dr. Lynda Morris Parham first visited her family’s home in Ocean City one week after she was born. Her grandfather, Charlotte physician Gordon Wilkins, was among the original property owners. Parham, now a psychologist, educator, and ordained minister, describes her childhood here as idyllic. For her, returning to the beach each summer is a homecoming. “I’ve come here all my life,” she says. “It’s really sacred. I always felt safe and protected here.”

Kenneth Chestnut photograph by Chris Rogers

So did Wade Chestnut’s son Kenneth. “I grew up in a terrific neighborhood. People think that under segregation, we did without,” he says, shaking his head. “It was segregated, but we were safe and supported.”

Kenneth remembers a heady adolescence at Ocean City marked as much by expectation as by independence: selling snow cones at the pier, picking up trash, even finding a barge and sailing the sound with his buddies. “To whom much is given, much is expected,” Kenneth says. “I knew nothing would be given to me, but I could do as well or better than anyone else.”

In addition to Black-owned beachfront homes, Ocean City also boasted a pier, restaurant, and a motel. Its history earned it a spot on the NC Civil Rights Trail in 2022. Photography courtesy of Ocean City Beach Citizens Council

He ended up graduating from Duke University with a degree in engineering in 1968, part of the school’s second integrated class. He served in the military for two years in Vietnam, then had a career in commercial construction. Now retired, he lives in Wilmington and spends part of the year at Ocean City. He mentors students at a middle school and at UNC Wilmington. He always returns to lessons learned in Ocean City.

“My dad had a reputation for integrity and treating people fairly, no matter their job or education,” Kenneth says. His mother, Caronell, was also a pillar of the community — a lifelong teacher, stalwart member of Delta Sigma Theta sorority, and president of the Phyllis Wheatley YWCA.

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At a historical tour starting at the Wade H. Chestnut Memorial Chapel during the Ocean City Jazz Festival, Kenneth addresses a group of about 30 people. While Ocean City thrived during some of our state’s toughest periods, he says, the one threat that remains is totally outside of man’s control. Like most of the Carolina coast, rough winds, waves, and tides, plus rising sea levels and storms, have impacted the shoreline greatly.

“Mother Nature is coming closer and closer,” Kenneth tells the group, pointing toward the sand dunes along Ocean Drive, where an entire row of houses once stood. “Some people are in denial about it, but I’m a witness.”

He recalls Hurricane Hazel, which devastated the community in 1954, flattening all but two homes and nearly derailing the fledgling settlement. The ocean flooded the barrier islands completely. Downed trees and impassable roads made travel impossible, except by Jeep or pontoon boat.

Wade H. Chestnut Jr. (pictured with his sons, Wade III and Kenneth, and his wife, Caronell) helped develop the community, which included Ocean City Terrace (pictured in 1953) and the Episcopal chapel that would later be renamed for him. Photography courtesy of Ocean City Beach Citizens Council, Chris Rogers

Edgar Yow Photography courtesy of Ocean City Beach Citizens Council

After another storm years later, Kenneth recalls tagging along as his dad surveyed the damage. At a pickup point outside a Surf City convenience store, the two ran into their old friend Edgar Yow.

“He asked me if I wanted a soda,” Kenneth remembers, “and I said, ‘No, Mr. Yow.’ I didn’t want a soda because I knew I couldn’t go in [the white-owned store] to get a soda.”

During the Jim Crow era, Black people developed codes to reduce, as much as possible, discriminatory experiences, like choosing thirst rather than risking disrespect from a racist shopkeeper. A man of his time, Yow surely understood this. Rumors floated that he himself had faced backlash from white peers for facilitating Ocean City. And that day, amid the devastation, he seemed to have had enough. He insisted that Kenneth accompany him into the shop and boomed, “Get him any drink he wants.” The shopkeeper balked but didn’t challenge the powerful attorney.

“He didn’t have to do that,” Kenneth says. “There was nobody watching. But that told me and my dad who he really was.”

Ocean City Beach is among several dozen places recognized on North Carolina’s Civil Rights Trail. photograph by Chris Rogers

Ocean City recovered from Hazel and other storms, but in 1996, back-to-back hurricanes, Bertha and Fran, throttled the community again. Kenneth became active in the fight to save coastal areas. Now vice president of the North Carolina Coastal Federation, he lobbies for policies to protect communities like Ocean City.

Other people nurtured in Ocean City have also answered the call to preserve this special place — Kenneth protecting its beauty and livability, Carla Torrey serving as co-chair of the jazz festival with her husband, Craig. “The community is determined to remain and document our history,” Kenneth says. “If we don’t, our story won’t get told.”