South of the Border
Right on the borderline of North Carolina-South Carolina, is the once-kitchy "South of the Border."
South of the Border: The Roadside Stop
More than sixty years ago, an idea was born – an idea that became an icon on the road between Maine and Florida.
The automobile, scarce during World War II, was now affordable and available. Gas was cheap. People were on the move.
Starting as a gas station and luncheonette, South of the Border was born – taking its catchy name and theme from its location – in Dillon, SC, right over the South Carolina border – and the popular song of the day. Add in a gift shop full of Mexican themed “junque”’ all bearing a distinctive “SOB” logo and voila, a landmark was born.
South of the Border: The Boom Time
Even before Disney World and fast food, South of the Border was making a mark as a roadside must-stop in the sixties. The ubiquitous Carolina fireworks store, cigarette and cotton mill outlets were added to the luncheonette complex. The luncheonette was expanded and a huge statue of Pedro, their advertising icon was installed. Motel rooms joined the premises – and, of course, more “junque.”
People stopped. People shopped. Business was terrific.
South of the Border: Advertising Genius
South of the Border’s customers were highway travelers. Period. Newspaper and magazine ads did not work (other than the occasional feature). Billboards, on the other hand, were ideal.
Featuring their “spokes-cartoon” Pedro in his trademark sombrero, a series of catchy and corny slogans was devised and designed to draw in the crowds. For one hundred miles on the road south from North Carolina, and ditto on the road north from South Carolina, there were South of the Border billboards proclaiming the growing landmark and wannabee tourist-trap and destination place.
The South of the Border billboards were punny and silly – but they were eye-catching and family oriented. Car passengers counted the signs along the road, marking the distance. The kids begged to stop and see Pedro. And as soon as you stopped for gas or the rest room, somebody was sure to slap a bumper sticker on your car. The customer was now part of the ad campaign.
South of the Border: The Challenges
By the 1970s, the highway traffic was non-stop. Campers and trailers were become popular. Gas was still cheap. New highways had made driving easier, and the “SOB” contingent lobbied hard to include their location as part of Route 95, the direct road to Florida.
South of the Border had ambitions: becoming a destination of itself. They built hundreds of motel rooms, a full-service camper site, various restaurants, niteries, ice cream parlors and shopping opportunities. They built a golf course – and a mini-golf attraction. They put in a children’s amusement park and playground, a reptile lagoon and arcades. Come and stay!
But the problem was also of itself. It was not enough of a draw with Myrtle Beach nearby and Disney World opening in Florida. People wanted to see Mickey, not Pedro. Meanwhile, motel chains were popping up at every exit, providing affordable prices and comfort – and a name that would be known to all. The fast-food burger stops were far more convenient, cheaper and consistent in their menus than the old-fashioned sit-down luncheonettes.
And nobody really needed ashtrays and T-shirts and shot glasses with South of the Borderlogos.
People still counted the billboards and stopped for gas or the restroom or a cold drink. They would still plunk the kids in front of the Pedro statue for a photo-op. But that was it.
Holiday Inn and McDonald’s were better. And it was barely a mosquito bite to Mickey Mouse.
South of the Border: Today
The billboards still dominate the roads north and south through the Carolinas – but like the old Burma Shave signs, they are totally cornball, rather than catchy.
It is easy to press on to an exit with more food and lodging options. A drive past South of the Border is a disappointing glance at a tawdry looking place with many of the advertised attractions (that still are promoted on the billboards) closed permanently. Forget golf – maxi or mini.
A few people still stop for gas, but not many. Few of the motel rooms have cars in the parking lot, and the average tourist would not be enticed. It is much like sad old Atlantic City – before the casinos revived the beachfront.
South of the Border: a time come and gone. It is a sorry sight. And a sad one. It used to be so nifty!
References: