Trading the Marxist “Utopia” for a True Retreat
NOTE: Correspondent Rick LaRivière is on vacation. Depending on how the elections go in New York City next week, his trip to Coastal Carolina may be permanent.
By Rick LaRivière
I never thought “fleeing New York City” would be on my to-do list. Yet here I am, plotting an escape to a tiny island off the South Carolina coast. Why? Because NYC’s mayoral frontrunner, Zohran Mamdani, is promising a socialist, Islamo-fascist utopia that sounds more like a dystopian nightmare for anyone to the right of Lenin.
As a native New Yorker (with the scars to prove it), I can smell the coming People’s Republic of NYC a mile away. Mamdani makes former Mayor Bill de Blasio look like Ronald Reagan – no joke. Even Florida’s Governor Ron DeSantis quipped that this guy is “sympathetic with communism [and] Islamism.” In other words, Comrade Zohran’s vision for New York is so far left, it left me checking ferry schedules not to Staten Island, but to Daufuskie Island.
Mamdani’s platform reads like a socialist wish list: defund the police, hike taxes on the “wealthy” (anyone who hasn’t fled yet), and “affordable housing” by government fiat. It’s as if he looked at San Francisco’s failures and said, “Hold my kombucha.”
Crime and chaos? Minor details – he’s busy posing for photos with people cozy to World Trade Center bombers. Yes, really – he posed with an imam who vouched for a 1993 WTC bombing mastermind. Lovely.
When Mamdani spoke about post-9/11 Islamophobia, he managed to paint his own aunt as the real victim of 9/11 because she “got some bad looks” on the subway. According to Zohran, 9/11’s tragedy is all about hurt feelings.
Even Ohio’s J.D. Vance piled on, snarking that “the real victim of 9/11 was his auntie” in Mamdani’s world.
You can’t make this stuff up – and you wonder why many New Yorkers are thinking “get me out of here!”
Enter Daufuskie Island – my chosen refuge while NYC tries its socialist experiment. Think of it as an “Escape from New York” vacation spot, where I can ride out the storm and gauge if I’ll need to permanently evict myself from Mamdani’s New York before the communards seize my property.
Daufuskie is 180 degrees from the five boroughs: a place with no stoplights, no city council crazies, and zero interest in turning your neighborhood into a workers’ collective. In fact, this little island might be the perfect haven for those of us who don’t keep a bust of Vladimir Lenin or an unindicted World Trade Center bomber in our parlor.
Daufuskie Island: The Anti-NYC Oasis
From the moment you arrive, Daufuskie Island feels like time travel to sanity. Nestled between Savannah and Hilton Head, it is still only accessible by boat. Many wish the same could be said for Staten Island.
With about 450 full-time residents, this 5×3-mile island is a remote retreat from modern life. Indeed, many locals still make their living by oystering and fishing rather than day trading crypto or taxing soda.
The island has gnarled live oaks dripping Spanish moss, quiet salt marshes, and dirt roads with actual dirt – yes, unpaved roads still exist here. It’s the kind of unspoiled landscape where “bridges and causeways” never opened the floodgates to development. In other words, exactly the kind of place the modern world forgot, and that’s a good thing.
Life on Daufuskie operates at a different rhythm. On a recent Saturday at noon, instead of sirens and honking, I found live music cranking – a three-piece band belting out Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Gimme Three Steps” – at a dockside tiki bar. Folks were dancing on the dock with cold beers in hand, waiting their turn for fresh fried flounder at the Old Daufuskie Crab Company. The bar was open-air, with no air conditioning—just big fans and a sea breeze.
Don’t worry, comrades, the fans run on electricity, not a five-year plan.
Everything here feels laid-back and unpretentious. Dress code? Swimsuit and flip-flops. Compare that to NYC, where I’d be sweating in a suit on a subway platform while some agitator harangues me about class struggle. No thanks. On Daufuskie, the only struggle is whether to have another Malibu Bay Breeze from bartender “Doc” or switch to sweet tea.
Let’s talk population and attitude. Daufuskie’s ~450 residents mean everyone waves at everyone. The islanders I met are a mix of native families and curious transplants – including a few escapees from up north like me. In fact, one of the island’s noted residents literally traded Boston and New York for Daufuskie’s serenity. She came, she saw, she chilled.
The community might be small, but it’s rich in character. There’s a strong African-American Gullah-Geechee heritage here: Daufuskie was once home to hundreds of Gullah families (freedmen descendants who lived in isolation after the Civil War), and their culture still permeates the island’s soul.
You can visit the quaint First Union African Baptist Church or the old Mary Field Schoolhouse, where local kids studied.
Only a dozen or so of the original Gullah residents remain today, but their roots run deep—a reminder that this place values tradition and community over trendy political fads. It’s the kind of tight-knit, church-going, help-your-neighbor community that NYC’s socialist planners only claim to care about while they’re busy dividing people by identity.
Oh, and about those NYC transplants and others who’ve made Daufuskie home – yes, you’ll find a couple of MAGA diehards here, and guess what? Everybody gets along just fine. I chatted with a guy in a red hat at the general store (one of the few on-island shops), and we bonded over the absurdity of $8 coffees and woke politics. No angry mobs descended, no Twitter cancelation ensued.
The fact that Daufuskie can house both multigenerational Gullah families and retirees who proudly fly the Stars and Stripes (and maybe a “Let’s Go Brandon” flag) speaks volumes. This is America in microcosm – minus the dysfunction.
It’s certainly a far cry from NYC, where political tribalism means one wrong word can get you shunned at the Park Slope food co-op. On Daufuskie, you can actually have a conversation without a commissar monitoring your pronouns.
History and Freedom Lived Daily
Daufuskie Island isn’t just a beachy hideaway; it’s a place with a fascinating history of survival and self-reliance – the perfect antidote to NYC’s top-down governance. Remember author Pat Conroy? He famously lived on Daufuskie in 1969 and taught school here – later chronicling it in The Water Is Wide. Conroy’s time was short-lived; he only lasted seven months before they fired him for being “too progressive.”
Imagine that: on this island, extreme progressive ideas got you canned even back then. Poor Pat was ahead of his time – or perhaps the island was ahead of its.
His memoir-turned-film depicted Daufuskie (pseudonymously as “Yamacraw Island”) as a place apart from the modern world. It still is. Walking the dirt roads, I felt like I’d slipped into the past – in a good way.
Locals spin tales of the island’s heyday as a hub of oyster harvesting; Daufuskie’s oysters were once famous throughout the Lowcountry until pollution from upriver mills killed the industry. There’s also the dramatic backstory of how the island got the name “Bloody Point” (hint: colonial-era skirmishes – the musket vs. tomahawk kind). History lives in every moss-draped oak and weathered cottage here.
One of my favorite local legends is Miss Sarah Grant, the island’s last midwife, who delivered 130 babies between 1932 and 1969. She charged $5 per birth (eventually raising it to $10, big spender) – and not a peep about insurance or bureaucrats.
That’s the kind of community-based, common-sense living people had here. Neighbors trusted neighbors; they didn’t wait for a nanny state to save them. It’s ironic: Daufuskie’s residents lived socialism’s purported ideals (caring for each other) far better without any socialist doctrine.
Meanwhile, in NYC, Mamdani and company plan to “care” for us by taxing us to death and redistributing our property. Hard pass – I’ll take the midwife and the oyster fisherman over a city agency and a five-year housing plan any day.
As a bonus, Daufuskie offers freedom from urban nonsense. The island had no road names until 1996 – think about that. People knew the paths and each other so well that formal street names weren’t needed. Good luck navigating Queens without Google Maps… here, you ask old Mr. Johnson, and he’ll tell you exactly whose dirt lane to turn down.
There are still no stoplights, no strip malls, and definitely no woke city council ordinances telling you how to sort your recycling or what words are banned this week. If you want to drive a golf cart with your dog sitting next to you and a cooler of beer in the back, go right ahead (common sight here). The pace of life is slow by design.
Sunset brings folks out to their porches, not into frantic Zoom meetings or ideological struggle sessions. The loudest community debate I overheard was whether the fish were biting better on the Daufuskie side or across the water in Hilton Head. For the record, Daufuskie wins – the fish aren’t on steroids from PCBs, unlike some places.
Why Not Stay Awhile?
If you’re a New Yorker sick of the direction things are headed – if phrases like “communal property”, “reparations tax,” or “defund the police” give you hives – you might want to join me down here for a spell. Daufuskie Island welcomes refugees from the NYC madhouse, no Lenin statue required at Customs. In fact, consider making it a reconnaissance mission —a prolonged vacation to gauge whether New York is still worth saving.
You wouldn’t be the first. Cleveland “Cleve” Bryan, a Daufuskie Island native, moved to NYC in 1946 and began working for the New York City Police Department in the early 1960s. He returned to Daufuskie Island to live out his Golden Years.
With Mamdani favored to win (he won the Democratic primary with nearly half the vote, riding endorsements from the AOC-Bernie brigade), the writing’s on the wall. DeSantis half-joked that if Zohran wins, it’ll be great for Florida’s real estate market – “It’ll probably cause Palm Beach to go up”, he mused, anticipating the wealth flight.
I suspect South Carolina might see a few new license plates, too. Why not beat the rush and enjoy some island time while you’re at it?
Let’s be clear: New York City under a Mayor Mamdani would be an experiment in how far left you can tilt a metropolis before it keels over. We’re talking about a guy who got scolded by 1,000 rabbis for his hostility to Israel, and who could barely bring himself to condemn terrorist acts. When your own party’s moderates think you’re too extreme, maybe you are.
His avid supporter Linda Sarsour – yes, the professional activist known for anti-Israel rants – is giddy at the thought of City Hall turning into a socialist safe space. Are you? If not, Daufuskie starts to sound pretty darn good.
A Quick Comparison: Mamdani’s NYC vs. Daufuskie Island
- Daily Life: In Mamdani’s NYC, you get grimy subways and lectures on equity; in Daufuskie, you get dolphin sightings on your 45-minute ferry ride and a welcome absence of preachy politicians and piss-stained Staten Island Ferry bums.
- Population & Space: NYC crams 8+ million souls overseen by a nanny-state; Daufuskie has ~450 residents with miles of breathing room. Elbow room is still a thing here.
- Politics: NYC’s future may feature “turmoil” and radical policies (even NJ Democrats are nervous about endorsing a socialist like Mamdani). Daufuskie’s “government” is basically a local council that minds things like ferry schedules. No one’s plotting to redistribute your golf cart or seize your vacation cottage for “the people.”
- Culture: New York’s soon-to-be “utopia” has public squares filled with protests and counter-protests. Daufuskie has a community farmers’ market and maybe a friendly debate over whose grandma makes better deviled crab. The island’s culture is rooted in its Gullah heritage and Southern hospitality, not critical theory.
- Security: In NYC, the plan is fewer cops and more feelings; on Daufuskie, the one Sheriff’s deputy (I think there’s one?) can take a nap most afternoons. Crime here is mostly Alligator vs. Golf Cart (and the gator usually loses). I saw a 10-foot alligator sunbathing by a lagoon, and it was the most “dangerous” encounter of my week. I’ll take gators over Gotham’s felons any day.
Final Thoughts: Paradise (At Least for the Sane)
Daufuskie Island isn’t heaven, but from where I’m sitting, it sure feels closer to it than the looming alternative back home. Here, I’ve “slipped into a time long past,” catching a glimpse of the Lowcountry before the modern world barged in.
Meanwhile, New York is slipping into who-knows-what under leaders like Mamdani. On Daufuskie, I can sip bourbon by a bonfire on the beach, under a sky so starry it shocks a city slicker – and nobody is trying to re-educate me or tax me into oblivion.
Maybe you’re not ready to give up on New York entirely. I get it, the bagels are hard to abandon. But as a savvy New Yorker, you owe it to yourself to have a Plan B. Consider a visit to Daufuskie to clear your head. Rent a cottage, chat with the locals, soak in the freedom. You might find, as I have, that the cure for what ails NYC is a hefty dose of what this island offers: peace, perspective, and a reminder of what America feels like when it’s not governed by lunatics.
Worst-case scenario, you have an amazing vacation and go home with a sunburn and some humility. Best-case, you’ve found your escape hatch should the “People’s Republic of NYC” actually materialize in City Hall.
As for me, I’ll be staying on Daufuskie a little longer – at least until after the November election results come in. If NYC comes to its senses, maybe I’ll head back. And if not? Well, I hear oyster farming is a pretty honest way to make a living—better that than sticking around for the inevitable downfall.
In the words of Lynyrd Skynyrd (the unofficial anthem of this island life): Gimme three steps, NYC, and watch me walk right out. I’ll be on Daufuskie Island, enjoying my vacation from socialism – and if need be, I’m prepared to make it permanent.
So, dear New Yorkers: the door (or rather, the ferry) is open. Escape from New York can be more than just a movie title – it can be your reality, at least for a while, on Daufuskie. Life’s too short to live under the thumb of mini-despots and ideological zealots. Down here, we have freedom, fresh air, and zero communists in sight.
And you know what? That’s Some Kinda Good, as the locals would say. Cheers to that, and cheers to Daufuskie – the place keeping me sane while New York goes crazy.
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