DILLON, S.C. — Nestled along the I-95 corridor at the border between North and South Carolina, the roadside attraction South of the Border has long served as a nostalgic waypoint for travelers since its establishment in 1949. Known for its towering neon sombrero and a mix of kitschy Mexican-themed decor, the sprawling 200-acre complex continues to draw visitors despite evolving cultural attitudes and economic challenges.
Founded by Alan Schafer, the rest stop initially capitalized on North Carolina’s then-strict alcohol regulations by selling beer to motorists just across the state line. Over time, it expanded to include motels, restaurants, souvenir shops, and a small theme park, presenting a variety of attractions under the banner of a cartoonish Mexican motif. Its iconic mascot, Pedro, a mustachioed character modeled on stereotypes of Mexican men who worked there decades ago, remains a prominent fixture.
Alan Schafer’s family has maintained ownership since its inception. His grandson, Ryan Schafer, now oversees the property but has grappled with the business’s decline and changing public perceptions. Formerly employing hundreds at its peak, the operation today has fewer than 200 workers. Efforts to sustain the attraction have been complicated by staffing difficulties, the fire that destroyed one of its restaurants earlier this year, and the sale of roughly 30 acres for $2.85 million.
South of the Border’s retro aesthetic has become increasingly controversial amid broader debates over cultural representation and sensitivity. While some, including Mexican American visitors, acknowledge the theme’s potentially offensive caricatures, others view the attraction as a whimsical relic of roadside Americana. Ryan Schafer defends the venue’s theme as celebratory, noting his personal connections to Mexican culture through frequent visits and curated imports. Yet he recognizes the critiques and the complex legacy his grandfather faced, including protests from the Mexican embassy and criticism for ethnic stereotyping in advertising.
The attraction’s history intersects with significant regional and social dynamics. Alan Schafer, who was Jewish, reportedly confronted Ku Klux Klan threats during the Jim Crow era after refusing to segregate the business. His stance on civil rights contrasted sharply with the prevailing attitudes of the time, adding a layer of social meaning to the roadside stop’s narrative.
Longtime employees and visitors alike reflect on South of the Border’s enduring, if quirky, character. Pam Oxendine, who has worked there for five decades, suggests that the business’s future may be limited once the present generation retires. Nonetheless, for many travelers, the site remains a nostalgic emblem of mid-20th-century American road travel. Visitors such as the Toigo family and others describe it as a place with “character” that sets it apart from more homogenized chains appearing along highways today.
Despite the challenges, the attraction’s distinct blend of entertainment, kitsch, and history persists, continuing to attract travelers seeking a roadside experience steeped in Americana, for better or worse.