This post will be our first post: 6/6/25
Echoes of Southport: by (Drayton Hawthorne) How Jabbertown and the Sawdust Trail Got Their Names
Every town has its whispers—those half-remembered stories passed down over front porches, church suppers, and barbershop chairs. Southport, North Carolina, is no different. And sometimes, it takes a simple question to start turning those whispers into history.
A few years ago, a local who’d lived in Southport since the late 1980s—a “newcomer” by Southport standards—asked a curious question: How did Jabbertown Road and the Sawdust Trail get their names? That simple inquiry set off a small but passionate search for answers, one that pulled back the curtain on a bygone corner of Southport life.
The Jabber of Jabbertown
Long before street signs or zoning maps, a tight-knit African American community formed about a mile north of the old Smithville town gate. The exact date? Unclear. But it likely sprouted sometime after the Civil War—though many in the community preferred the term War of Northern Aggression, a reminder of the perspectives that lingered after the smoke cleared.
Most of the men worked in one of several sawmills north of town or served as crew members aboard the Menhaden fishing fleet. Their workdays started at “can see” and ended at “can’t see”—a poetic way of saying they rose and returned with the sun. As dusk settled, the road home came alive.
Women and children would gather on porches or in yards, waiting eagerly for the returning menfolk. If the men had worked the water that day, they often brought home more than just their stories—mullet, bluefish, and the occasional mackerel made their way into shared pots for supper.
And as the men rounded the final bend, they’d hear it: a chorus of voices carried on the evening air. Laughter, gossip, kids playing—it all tumbled together into a soundscape so distinctive that they nicknamed the place Jabber Town. And the name stuck.
Over time, the community grew strong enough to consider organizing. There was talk of forming a township, and local stories even speak of an “unofficial mayor.” But modernization crept in. Roads improved. Transportation became easier. And what was once a separate enclave slowly wove itself into the growing fabric of Southport.
Today, Jabbertown is remembered in the name of the road that runs through it—a lasting tribute to the warmth, resilience, and nightly chatter of a community that helped shape the town’s character.
Walking the Sawdust Trail
Jabbertown has a sister story in the form of the Sawdust Trail, another name born from need and ingenuity. Before modern drainage and paving, one of the main trails into the Jabbertown community turned to soup after every rain. It wasn’t just muddy—it was a quagmire.
Many of Jabbertown’s men who didn’t fish worked at the nearby sawmills. At the end of the day, they’d scoop sawdust into their empty lunch pails or even their pockets. Mule-drawn wagons carrying lumber into town would sometimes haul sacks of sawdust, too. Their mission? Dry out the boggy path.
Day by day, year by year, these humble offerings transformed the trail. Eventually, the puddles disappeared, replaced by a deep, dry blanket of sawdust. What was once impassable became a lifeline—nicknamed, naturally, The Sawdust Trail.
Mysteries Still Waiting
And the questions don’t end there. Who gave Pete’s Camp its name? What’s the story behind the “Horsepen” over at Yaupon Beach? Why is the area past the Little League Park called the Cottages—were there ever cottages there? And what’s the tale behind Barrow Hill?
Then there’s Bowensville, the ghost of a neighborhood out near the ferry landing at Price Creek. Some remember it as a place with scattered cabins and the crumbling remains of small homes. But was it ever a true town? A real community? Or simply the domain of one prominent family?
Old maps mark Bowensville. Old foundations confirm it existed. But when did it thrive? And when did it fade?
A Living Archive
These are the stories that don’t make it into history books but live in conversations, memories, and place names. Southport’s charm isn’t just in its waterfront views or historic homes—it’s in these layered legacies, just waiting to be uncovered.
If you’ve ever wondered about a road sign, a local nickname, or an old stone foundation in the woods, don’t shrug it off. Ask. Dig. Because in Southport, every path—even one paved in sawdust—has a story to tell.