At ‘304 Day’ celebration, the highway is the tie that binds

Highway 304 connects Vandemere, Maribel, Hollyville, Cash Corner, Mesic and Hobucken — reaching out from the center of the county and linking the small towns like a lifeline. The road is surrounded by farm fields and woodlands, solitary houses and trailer parks, and one business, the Flamingo Grill. The communities are bonded by proximity and, more importantly, by family and a shared history.

Carla Ollison and T.J. Jarvis organized last weekend’s first ever “304 Day” in just three weeks. The need for a Highway 304 reunion was so strong that over 100 people responded. Attendees came from Durham, Raleigh, Fayetteville, Maryland and beyond.

The Saturday celebration starts at the Vandemere Waterfront Park & Boat Ramps.

At the cookout, the DJ and the grill are busy. Small children crowd the bounce house and preteens run up and down the docks while everyone else reminisces and takes selfies. Many newly printed T-shirts read, “304 Day: Promote love, not war” and “County Made.” The day is warm, perfect and comfortable, like a family reunion.

That night, up the road at Cash Corner, the Flamingo Grill hosts the nighttime portion of the reunion.

The cement-block building, locally famous in the ’80s as the Flamingo Lounge and, before that, the Purple Onion, is bigger on the inside than it looks.

Around 10:30 p.m., before the DJ arrives and the lights are dimmed, Michelle Mattocks, 57, and three friends are at the bar on tall, homemade, comfortable bar chairs, chewing gum and setting the tempo for the party. A man with them wears a flat cap and buys them beers.

“I haven’t been down here in 40 years,” says Michelle from Cash Corner, talking about the Flamingo, which has been mostly closed for decades. “But I gotta go to church tomorrow, so people better get here.”

When the young DJ walks in, setting up his station with a Mac laptop, Michelle yells to him.

“Play some old music before the young people get here ’cuz we ain’t gonna be here long,” she says with her arms crossed over her jean jacket. She smiles as she teases.

People start to arrive. Everyone who walks in gives her a full-body hug as if she is the godmother of Highway 304. The door is often left open, and the warm night air drifts inside.

Beyond the bar, a red and white checker tiled dance floor has lights flashing green, blue, then red. The DJ’s station is set against a towering wall of speakers, the disco ball is in rotation and the pool table sits empty all night. People stand around the bar and reminisce.

The chef from the Flamingo in the next room, nicknamed “Cuz,” prepares fried foods. R&B from the ’80s, music by Color me Badd and even the Electric Slide, get two, then three women dancing.

Eventually, Michelle joins them. She levitates and glides like a bubble, bouncing back and forth from the dance floor to her seat next to the front door.

Around midnight, a younger crowd shows up. Women wear shorts and heels, revealing cleavage. But Michelle still owns the dance floor.

Outside, on Highway 304, the music echoes along the quiet fields surrounding Cash Corner. It is 1 a.m. and the Flamingo Grill parking lot is full once again. A pounding rhythm continues along the dark and empty highway.

To read more about the Flamingo Grill, check out this past article.

Donate to Down in the County and become a vital part of growing our visual and written history.

If you have ideas for future bulletins, please email : [email protected]

To see more photos from me, follow me on Instagram @andreabruce