By Jim Hunt for the Harrison County News & Journal
My wife and I were headed back to West Virginia after spending the weekend in High Point, North Carolina. We were in that familiar “let’s just get home” mode on the interstate when we started seeing the signs for Mount Airy. Like a lot of people our age, we’ve said more than once, “Someday we ought to stop and see Mayberry.”
This time, as we approached the exit, I finally said the magic words: “Why not today?” She agreed, and a few minutes later we were off the highway and following the signs toward Andy Griffith’s hometown and the real-life inspiration for his fictional television town.
Being from West Virginia, there’s already a home-state connection. We grew up proud that Don Knotts, the unforgettable Barney Fife, came from Morgantown. In a way, visiting Mount Airy felt like visiting a cousin of our own hills and hollers.
We found a parking spot right on Main Street and stepped into a place that felt both new and strangely familiar. There was Floyd’s Barber Shop, looking every bit like the TV version, with photos and memorabilia in the window. Up and down the street were shops, diners and small businesses sprinkled with references to the Andy Griffith Show—Mayberry this, Opie that.
What struck me was that, underneath the nostalgia, this is still a working downtown. Locals were coming and going, picking up lunch, running errands and chatting on the sidewalk. Tourists and town folks were sharing the same space, and it seemed to work.
My wife wanted to see Andy Griffith’s boyhood home, so we drove a few blocks off Main Street.
What surprised us both was how ordinary it was, a small cottage on a quiet neighborhood street, almost identical to the other homes around it. No giant gate, no mansion on the hill, just a simple house like so many others in West Virginia and across the country.
There was something comforting about that. The man whose show gave us Mayberry, and whose name now draws visitors from all over, started out in a house that could just as easily have been on a street in Clarksburg or Bridgeport. It reminded me that our most enduring stories often grow out of very ordinary beginnings.
From a local government perspective, Mount Airy is an interesting case study. This is not a big city, but it welcomes a steady stream of visitors who come for a taste of Mayberry. That doesn’t happen by accident. The community made a decision: instead of running from the TV image, they would lean into it. They built events like Mayberry Days, encouraged themed businesses, and kept their downtown intact enough that it still feels like a real place, not a movie set.
They also haven’t forgotten that people live there year-round. Behind the souvenirs and squad cars, there are schools, churches, neighborhoods and council meetings. It’s still a town that has to deal with budgets, infrastructure and all the unglamorous parts of running a community. The trick has been connecting that everyday life to a story the rest of the world recognizes.
As we drove back toward West Virginia that evening, I was glad we’d taken the exit. Our visit to Mount Airy lasted only a few hours, but it left an impression. We saw how a small town can turn a television memory into an economic asset, while still remaining a place where ordinary people live ordinary lives.
And it left me with a thought that applies to every city and town, including our own: somewhere in your streets, your history and your people is a story that others will connect with. The challenge, and the opportunity, is to recognize it, embrace it and, every once in a while, be willing to say, “Why not today?”
