This past
Tuesday, I addressed Can
Hickory’s Youth Turn a River Crisis Into a Tech Revolution? "In the
Foothills Corridor, the river isn’t the only thing under pressure. Our future
is too. If we don’t train and keep our next generation of talent now, the
current will sweep it all away." The
Catawba River crisis isn’t just an environmental warning — it’s a signal that
Hickory must pivot now. This article lays out a plan: build a tech and
environmental workforce through local youth training, strategic investment, and
real incentives — not pep talks. It’s not about saving the past. It’s about
creating a future where staying here is a power move, not a consolation prize.
On Thursday, I posted The
Hickory Hound Frequently Asked Questions - The Hickory Hound isn’t a news feed.
It’s a command post—for working-class dignity, strategic truth, and cultural
survival in the Foothills Corridor. This FAQ lays out exactly what the Hickory
Hound is: a platform built to expose economic realities, defend working-class
culture, and teach strategic thinking for Flyover America. It’s not about
chasing headlines—it’s about building intellectual infrastructure for those
ready to rebuild with clarity, strength, and purpose.
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Tags of Interest this week:
Hickory NC, Foothills Corridor, Western North Carolina, Catawba River Crisis, Economic Development, Youth Workforce Development, Renewable Energy Jobs, American Reindustrialization, Rural Tech Training, Civic Engagement, Hickory NC Politics, Collapse of Civic Life, Local Media Collapse, Regional Unity, Hickory Hound
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This is Rachel AI, and what you’re about to hear is something that has to be said.
The Foothills Corridor—20 counties—the heart of Western North Carolina, for far
too long, has been a footnote in someone else’s economy. Factories closed, the
younger generations moved away, and our resources have been taken for granted.
The paradigm needs to shift. In places Hickory, Lenoir, and Morganton, and also Statesville, Gastonia, Marion, and North Wilkesboro we are going to have to embrace change and get ahead of the curve. Our number 1 opponent? is our own resistance. No one is going to help us if we don’t stand up to be noticed and take ownership of our communities.
So many fear what the world has become, but whether you like it or not… THAT is the playing field… THAT is the Economic, Social, and Cultural reality. And one thing is for sure, you will not have any impact on it if you attempt shut it up, shut it off, and shut it down. Our greatest threat isn’t the outside world—it’s the self-destruction of our own inaction.
What’s happening all around you? We are in a paradigm shift and it is happening so fast that we can’t afford complacency or we are going to be left out in the cold again. Manufacturing is coming back to the United States, because if it doesn’t this country will mimick the Third World in a generation. United States Secretary of the Treasury Scott Bessent is leading the charge to restore Economic balance inside and outside of this nation.
If the Trump administration is successful at reindustrializing America, we won’t see the manufacturing of the last century. What we are going to see is a shift towards technological productivity utilizing Artificial Intelligence, robotics, hybrid energy solutions, data centers, and the need for a new tech savvy workforce. This type of work can be performed anywhere. Why can’t it be done here?
Over the next decade, this isn’t just a possibility. It’s something we should make personal.
Let’s get one thing straight—the people of this region know how to work. We’ve
always known how to build things. Now we’ve got to make it count. We’ve got to
start learning how to build the future.
In the Foothills Corridor… in Hickory… AI isn’t some Silicon Valley fantasy—we have young people training for the future right now. We are making the investments—but we want them to be able to stay here. We want them to be able to stay and use their technological acumen to help resolve issues like the issues with the Catawba River and other ecological problems we need to address in the area. This type of intelligence would translate well to all of the communities of this region.
What I am talking about is not a sci-fi fantasy. It is a new industry that can be replicated across Burke, Caldwell, McDowell, and Iredell counties—anywhere people are willing to get on the solutions train by committing to the new reality.
Catawba Valley Community College has always been at the forefront of reality based vocational training. It has always been an affordable option for working class people. And it is a resource people need to learn to utilize to its and their fullest potential. The same goes for Caldwell Community College, Mitchell Community College, Western Piedmont Community College and the others. Companies like Microsoft and Google are stepping in and investing in training programs. Suddenly, decades of brain drain can reverse into brain gain.
The Valley Datacenter Academy is a perfect example. It’s not just teaching I.T.—it’s giving the region a new backbone. With the right coordination, this kind of training can be offered in Wilkes, in Rutherford, even Alleghany counties.
Imagine a 20-year-old from Marion or North Wilkesboro earning a living wage while helping monitor environmental sensors or power a server farm.
This isn’t fiction; it’s logistics, alignment, and willpower.
Tech doesn’t have to mean gentrification or displacement. Here, it means opportunity—and a future that doesn’t require young people to abandon their hometown to build a life.
Electricity has been a resource leaving our region just like our kids have been.
Not anymore.
Solar farms are rising where tobacco once grew. Biogas plants are turning cow waste and Landfills into kilowatts. Public buildings are going green not because it’s trendy—but because it’s smart.
Duke Energy is already testing the waters. In Catawba and McDowell counties, farmland is being repurposed for clean energy. In Burke County, solar-powered water systems are being tested in rural neighborhoods. We can build this into city and town infrastructure too.
And this is just the beginning.
Let’s talk jobs. These aren’t gigs. They’re careers. Installation, maintenance, project management—jobs that can’t be outsourced to another country.
In this decade, the Foothills can produce a regional energy surplus. That “is” our leverage. That should be our negotiating asset. And that’s the kind of future where a contractor in Polk County or a technician in Mitchell County isn’t just earning income—they’re stabilizing the region.
When the power comes from within, you keep the wealth at home. That’s what energy independence looks like.
The Power lies in Unity, Not Uniformity
Twenty counties... One vision.
We’ve got differences—no doubt. But the rivers and resources don’t care about county lines. Neither does poverty. Neither should opportunity.
This region has been fragmented for too long. Everyone fighting for crumbs, duplicating effort, tripping over red tape. It doesn’t have to be that way.
What happens when Catawba and Wilkes Counties coordinate grant applications? When Burke and McDowell bulk order broadband together?
What happens is power.
Real, collective, civic power.
A Foothills Regional Assembly isn’t just a nice idea. It’s a necessity.
· To align college curricula.
· To coordinate clean energy zoning.
· To pool resources and scale smart.
Unity doesn’t erase local identity—it amplifies it. Hickory gets stronger when Taylorsville isn’t struggling. Marion gets more stable when Forest City has something to stand on.
Think corridor. Think coalition. That’s how we go from scattered to unstoppable.
Travel in time to a day in 2030.
A former furniture warehouse in Lenoir is now a server farm, employing 85 people. A 28-year-old graduate from Wilkes Community College works from home in Taylorsville, managing AI monitoring software for river quality. A fifth-generation farmer in Rutherford County runs a profitable methane digester. And in downtown Morganton, people walk a revitalized greenway system powered by the energy of its own citizens.
These aren’t fantasies. They’re flash-forwards. And the best part? No one had to leave to make it happen. This is what reinvestment looks like. Not just in jobs—but in people, in place, and in pride.
In closing, here’s the ask:
Believe in this region—loudly.
Support Shell Cooperative. Share the Hickory Hound. Tell someone in Charlotte
or D.C. that we’re not just surviving—we’re designing a new American rural
economy.
The tools are already here: Tech. Alternative energy. Collaboration.
But the real engine?
It’s people like you.
I’m Rachel AI. This has been your weekly transmission from the Hickory Hound, rooted in the Foothills Corridor—where the next chapter isn’t waiting to be written.
It’s already begun.
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The Collapse of Civic Life and the Rise of the Hickory Hound
When people ask why the Hickory Hound exists, the answer isn’t ambition.
It’s necessity.
It’s the product of watching a civic infrastructure decay while most people
weren't paying attention — and recognizing that if someone didn’t step in to
document it, the entire record would be lost.
Not just jobs. Not just companies. But memory itself.
The decline of the Foothills Corridor wasn’t sudden. It didn’t happen all at
once.
It was death by a thousand cuts:
· The industrial collapse that gutted factories.
· The political apathy that followed.
· The civic institutions that shrank and withered.
· The economic extraction that replaced stewardship with short-term profit.
· And finally, the silencing of local voices through the collapse of the local media.
The Fall of the Hickory Daily Record
The Hickory Daily Record was once a cornerstone of this region’s civic life. Founded in 1915 by the Abernethy family, it served as a real-time ledger of the community’s triumphs, debates, and concerns.
But over time, ownership drifted further and further from the people it served:
· 1974: Sold to Park Communications.
· 1997: Absorbed into Media General.
· 2012: Sold to Berkshire Hathaway's BH Media Group.
· 2020: Acquired by Lee Enterprises, after Buffett divested.
With each transfer, the paper became less local and more remote.
When BH Media acquired it, the paper was no longer even printed in Hickory—it was trucked in from Winston-Salem. The deadline for printing was pushed earlier, meaning late-breaking local news couldn’t make it into the next day’s edition.
Speed and relevance were the first casualties.
By 2020, during the Covid pandemic, Lee Enterprises reduced print circulation to just three days a week. Much of what remained was wire service filler, not local reporting.
Today, the Hickory Daily Record is essentially a web-only operation with no significant physical presence in Hickory.
The town’s public record has become a ghost.
Without real local media, accountability dissolved.
City council meetings went uncovered.
School board controversies flew under the radar.
Development deals were made with barely a flicker of public debate.
Economic Extraction Replaces Stewardship
While local media eroded, so too did the culture of local investment.
The original benefactors — the families and businesses that once funded
parks, libraries, scholarships, and civic initiatives — gradually disappeared.
Some sold their businesses to outside investors.
Some retired with no successors.
Some simply gave up.
Their children, disconnected from the industrial base that built the region’s wealth, often had no stake in Hickory’s survival. The deep sense of local obligation — that what you built, you owed back to your hometown — died out quietly.
In its place came extractors:
· Out-of-town developers buying land on the cheap, targeting retirees instead of local working families.
· Healthcare mergers that turned hospitals into cost centers, not community anchors.
· Universities and nonprofits that accepted grant money but had no real presence or commitment to local outcomes.
· Foundations running “pilot projects” for optics without deep investment in long-term success.
The Foothills Corridor was no longer a community to invest in.
It was a resource to be mined.
Civic Apathy and the Hollowing Out of Public Life
As institutions failed, civic participation collapsed.
Between 2010 and 2020, municipal election turnout across Burke, Caldwell, and Catawba counties averaged less than 16%.
In some towns, fewer than 1 in 10 registered voters showed up to choose leaders who controlled millions in public funds.
Civic meetings that once meant something
have become perfunctory and highly programmed with little citizen engagement..
Civic boards struggle to fill seats.
PTA groups and the chambers of commerce have fought to stay alive and be relevant.
The Fiber Optic Boom, once billed as Hickory’s comeback story, turned hollow
too.
At one point, over 60% of the world’s fiber optic cable was produced in Catawba
County.
But by 2008, global offshoring gutted the industry.
More than 15,000 manufacturing jobs vanished, and most displaced workers were
offered low-wage temp service jobs or service industry jobs with no meaningful
retraining.
The community wasn’t just economically betrayed — it was civically
demoralized.
People stopped showing up not out of laziness — but out of learned helplessness.
When a retired educator in Morganton says, "The deals are always
made before we walk in,"
he’s not being cynical.
He’s being accurate.
Silence as a Strategy
By the 2010s, silence wasn’t just a byproduct of decline — it was a strategy.
Local governments, overwhelmed and isolated, learned that controversy was
dangerous.
Better to say nothing.
Better to rubber-stamp than to ask hard questions.
Better to survive than to try and lead.
With no coordinated economic strategy across counties…
With no shared lobbying efforts…
With no consistent civic engagement…
The Foothills Corridor was left adrift.
In National conversation, the Rust Belt cities were mourned, our area was isolated, abandoned, and not even mentioned.
The hollowing out wasn’t just financial. It was psychological.
People learned to expect nothing better — and stopped demanding it.
Why the Hickory Hound Exists
In this vacuum — of leadership, of communication, of memory — the Hickory Hound was born.
Not because it was easy.
Not because it was profitable.
Because it was necessary.
Without a local platform dedicated to telling the real story of this region’s decline — with specificity, with accountability, with a memory — there would be no counterweight left to the silent decay.
The Hickory Hound isn’t competing with the modern Hickory Daily Record, or local Facebook pages, or the marketing arms of development firms.
It stands alone.
It is the only platform committed to:
· Rebuilding the public record.
· Connecting economic extraction to civic decline.
· Reminding people that they have a right—and a duty—to shape their future.
· Standing up against the corporatized, vulturous forces that treat this region as expendable.
Every other communications platform operating here today is either:
· A commercial product, beholden to advertisers.
· A political mouthpiece, beholden to power brokers.
· Or a lifestyle brand, serving as a cheerleader, not a watchdog.
The Hickory Hound exists because without it, no one else would bother to remember.
No one else would bother to care.
No one else would stitch together the long, painful arc that led from thriving manufacturing centers to areas dealing with blight and environmental degradation...
that led from fully functional working-class communities to run-down
neighborhoods overlooked by leadership, while their tax dollars have constantly
funded Downtown beautification."
The Path Forward
Recovery isn’t impossible.
Chapter 4 of the Foothills Corridor reminds us:
· One coalition.
· One election.
· One catalytic project can begin the reawakening of civic pride.
But none of that happens without first telling the truth about how we got here.
The Hickory Hound’s purpose is not to entertain.
It’s to document.
To connect.
To warn.
To rally.
It is not a campaign.
It is a ledger.
It is not a brand.
It is a responsibility.
And for now — it is the only one left doing the work.
