What kind of image to present? 



In 1975, a businessman from Daytona Beach, Fla., flew 

 over Ocracoke Island. "From the air, it looked like 

 something out of a storybook," remembers Scott Cottrell. 

 "I thought it was one of the most picturesque places I had 

 ever seen." 



Cottrell landed on the island, took a look around and 

 bought a piece of property. Four years later, he moved there 

 for good, with the intention of taking it easy. 



But he opened a gift shop, and the businessman in Cot- 

 trell began to take over. Another piece of property came 

 available, this one on Silver Lake, with a prime view of the 

 harbor. The land had been on the market for several years, 

 but "Everybody said the price was too high," says Cottrell. 

 Now that he's developed the land with a three-story, soon- 

 to-be-four-story, brick motel, Cottrell thinks the cost was 

 dirt cheap. 



Cheap for him, say some islanders, but the cost for the 

 village may be immeasurable. In a town where hundred- 

 year-old houses are nestled among even older, gnarled live 

 oak trees, the Anchorage is a skyscraper. Taller than the 

 lighthouse, even. The image of Ocracoke is at stake, they 

 say. 



Change has always been slow to come to the island com- 

 munity. In the 1940s electricity and public telephones made 

 a debut. In 1957 Highway 12 was cut through the village, 

 and in 1961 the state began regular ferry service from the 

 mainland. 



Today, the unincorporated village is a permanent home 

 to over 650 people, most of them with roots several genera- 

 tions deep. Here, the mass exodus from the country to the 

 city doesn't apply. Ocracoke's children grow up there, some 

 go off to school, and more often than not, they return. 



When Cottrell constructed the Anchorage, his actions 

 were not illegal. The only guidelines he was required to 

 follow are those set out by Hyde County building codes and 

 septic regulations. The motel is equipped with its own septic 

 treatment system. 



What Cottrell didn't do was follow the natives' unwritten 



Photo by Nancy Davis 



Scott Cottrell 



Photo by Nancy Davis 



Alton Ballance 



code of what was acceptable. Now, the sight of the 

 Anchorage brings a scowl to many Ocracokers' faces and 

 even to those of some tourists. 



Alton Ballance, Hyde County commissioner for 

 Ocracoke, describes the opposition's viewpoint: "Natives 

 don't like that building. It's brick, it's out of character to 

 the village, and it's high-density for such a small lot. The 

 Anchorage sets a precedent — if he can build that, I'll build 

 this. If he builds four stories, I'll build five." 



(Scott Cottrell and Alton Ballance reflect the extreme 

 points of view and do not necessarily represent the opinions 

 of other Ocracokers.) 



Cottrell defends his motel. When completed, a pitched 

 roof and gables will give the building a more traditional 

 look, he says. "I think it will be the most imposing building 

 on the island when it's finished," says Cottrell. 



Is that good? "It is if it's your's. But it isn't if you have to 

 compete against it," he replies. 



Cottrell feels his motel has benefited Ocracoke. He says 

 he pays the highest taxes of any business venture on the 

 island, employs a substantial number of people, and tourists 

 who stay in his motel contribute to the income of the island. 



But the Anchorage is only the focal point of a broader 

 conflict. Ballance says this is a story about natives losing 

 ground. 



He creates a common scenario. Two neighbors have lived 

 on Ocracoke all their lives. When one of the homeowners 

 dies, the relatives decide to sell the property. 



Here's where the trouble begins, says Ballance. A retired 

 couple from the North buys the house. Then they want to 

 buy an adjacent vacant field. The natives see the land as an 

 old field where their children played. To the newcomers, the 

 property is a way to make money, says Ballance. They buy 

 the land and build a motel. 



Now the natives have to deal with commercial property 

 next door. They rebel; their home isn't a nice place 

 anymore, says Ballance. 



A zoning plan might have helped in a situation like this, 



