This week I did a three deep dives into issues that truly impact the Economic Social and cultural dynamics of our region. Below is a quick summary of each, along with a 500 word synopsis and a link to the full deep dive if you have not already read it.
The Forgotten Grid: Towns That Industry Left Behind - June 10, 2025 - Drexel, Hildebran, and Valdese once thrived on industry—but global shifts left them behind. Now marked by aging populations, empty mills, and stalled growth, these towns embody the human cost of economic abandonment. This report examines their rise, fall, and quiet resilience—asking whether modern planning will continue to ignore them, or finally bring them back into the fold.
The Center Cannot Hold: Hickory’s Uneven Growth in a Fractured County - June 10, 2025: Hickory’s downtown revival masks deeper fractures in Catawba County. While new trails and tech jobs signal progress, aging infrastructure, school disparities, and uneven investment reveal a region divided. From Mountain View to Maiden, the foundation is straining. This report examines whether Hickory’s growth story can truly hold—before the cracks at the edges pull the center apart. 500 word summary of this article
Keep the Crawdads: Strategic Intelligence Report on Hickory’s Baseball Future - June 12, 2025: Hickory’s Crawdads face uncertain ownership, regional neglect, and mounting pressure from MLB contraction trends. This strategic report lays out the stakes, from economic impact to civic identity, calling for proactive local action. Lose the Crawdads, and Hickory risks more than a team—it risks surrendering its place in America’s baseball fabric. The time to act is now. 500 word summary of this article.
Not Broken. Not Bought. Not Theirs. A Field Manual for the Self-Educated Builder
1. You Weren’t the Problem
There are people who were never meant to thrive in the system they were born into. Not because they lacked intelligence or will—but because the structure around them was never designed to cultivate either. If you didn’t fall in line, if you didn’t flatter the right gatekeepers, if your questions cut too deep—you were labeled. Disruptive. Difficult. Broken.
I wasn’t broken. I just wasn’t theirs.
Public school was a machine that punished difference. It rewarded submission and left little room for the curious, the restless, or the strategic. It wasn’t about mastery. It was about conformity. I didn’t evolve into who I am through their system. I have survived it, despite everything it took from me. My education started the moment I stopped seeking their approval.
I live in a cold war with the society that thought it could diagnose me into silence.
2. The System Was Working Exactly As Intended
If it ever seemed like the system failed people like us, it’s because it was never built to serve us in the first place. Its purpose isn’t enlightenment. It’s hierarchy. The goal isn’t to teach—it’s to sort.
What they call "education" is often credential inflation and cultural grooming. They train managers, not builders. Repeaters, not originators. The deeper you think, the harder you fall through their cracks. People stopped learning because the system trained them to believe their degree was the finish line.
The "educated" class talks a lot, but listens little. They confuse resume polish for insight. Meanwhile, the world changes beneath their feet, and they don’t even notice until their institutions start to collapse.
They didn't outgrow the old world. They ignored the new one. And now they think their failure to evolve is your failure.
3. The Tools Finally Came
For most of my life, I could see more than I could say. I had ideas that didn’t fit into their formats, questions they wouldn't tolerate, insights no one had a place for. Then the tools arrived. AI. Open platforms. Self-publishing. The collapse of gatekeepers.
I didn't suddenly become smarter. The world just finally offered tools sharp enough to match my mind. I didn’t get louder. The noise around me finally cracked enough for my voice to get through.
Now I write the truths I was punished for asking. I build frameworks the planners never considered. I analyze the local economy, the cultural decay, the civic breakdown—and I don’t need anyone's permission to do it.
You can call it journalism. You can call it strategy. I call it survival.
4. What I’m Building
The Hickory Hound isn’t a blog. It’s a navigation system. A decoded map for people who know something’s wrong but can't get the signal through the noise. I’m tracking water conflicts, minor league team relocations, collapsing infrastructure, and regional economic patterns because those things matter. Not in theory—in day-to-day life.
Our civic class doesn’t want to confront reality. They want applause for incrementalism while the floorboards rot underneath. But I don’t write to flatter the officials. I write to warn the people.
Every story is a pressure point. Every data point is a clue. Every article is a piece of the map for people who still believe in rebuilding, even if they’ve been pushed to the margins.
I’m not here to entertain. I’m here to equip.
5. We Are Not Broken
If you’ve ever been told you ask too many questions, that you care too much, that you expect too much clarity—you’re not alone.
You’re not broken. You’re just not theirs.
The world is changing. The gatekeepers are slipping. The Normies who've always mocked the idea of collapse now live in its early chapters. And those of us who were forced to figure things out the hard way—we're not the problem.
We’re the blueprint.
And we’re not waiting for permission to keep building.
Before I share the findings below, I want to be transparent: in the main section every one of the articles cited to validate my research is locked behind a paywall. That’s the reality of our current media ecosystem — quality reporting exists, but access often comes at a cost. I don’t fault the journalists; I fault the system that limits public access to information that should be widely known.
That’s the world we live in—information that affects your job prospects, your kid’s future, or your community’s survival is often hidden behind a subscription button. So unless you’ve got an account with The Wall Street Journal, Forbes, Bloomberg, Reuters, or The New York Times, you’ll have to take my word for what’s inside. Or better yet—read the work I’ve already made free to the public.
So, if you want to verify these insights for yourself, you may need to lean on your local library, educational institution, or a subscription service — or you can trust that I’ve done my homework.
What I’m showing here isn't just theory. It's confirmation. Confirmation that what I’ve laid out in my soon available books The Foothills Corridor and The Shrinking Center — the deindustrialization, the slow grind of reinvention, the fragility of our middle class — is now being recognized on a national scale. These are issues I spoke of years ago.
News and Views
Big US cities are sinking. This map shows where the problem is the worst. - USA Today - Doyle Rice - 5/8/25 - A new study shows 28 major U.S.
cities are sinking — Houston fastest, San Antonio most at-risk
structurally. Charlotte, our regional giant, made the list. The causes?
Groundwater overuse, building weight, and poor land management. The
result? Flood risk, infrastructure damage, and a reminder that
environmental instability is accelerating just as our region grapples
with economic fragility. This connects directly to the Catawba River
Water Crisis — one that still lacks a proactive response from state
leadership... Why it matters:
If our land is physically sinking beneath us, and our economic
foundation has already crumbled once before, we can't afford to ignore
converging crises. It's not just climate. It’s policy. It's planning. Or
the lack thereof.
-------------------------------------------------
The Main Section:
I’m currently working on two books: The Foothills Corridor and The Shrinking Center. Both explore how deindustrialization dismantled the economic base of western North Carolina—and what it will actually take to build something better.
Some claim we’ve recovered. Others say we’re on our way. But where we stand now is clear: we’re plateaued in a stalled, brittle version of progress that amounts to a “new normal.” It’s not enough.
Real recovery will require reindustrializing our economy around modern, precision-based manufacturing—something I publicly called for in The Wall Street Journal back in 2009. It will also demand cultivating a creative economy rooted in entrepreneurship, design, technology, and culture—all themes I began writing about over a decade ago and have pushed consistently ever since on this site.
The core argument is simple: we cannot revitalize by appearance alone. We need structural renewal—hard infrastructure, broadband, workforce development, and scalable industries that create real middle-class jobs. I’ve laid out these strategies for years. If I have anything to say about it, we will achieve them. But I also know this mission is bigger than me. It will take others to help carry it forward.
To underscore how accurate these claims remain today, I’ve compiled five recent national news articles—all published within the past two weeks—that directly support what’s laid out in The Foothills Corridor and The Shrinking Center. Each confirms a different part of the story: the aging population, the broadband imperative, the limits of cosmetic revitalization, the labor mismatch in high-tech manufacturing, and the shrinking middle class.
You may not be able to access these sources without a subscription—but the relevance is clear.
The Foothills Corridor is a strategic, sobering, and deeply personal chronicle of western North Carolina’s economic unraveling and future potential. Authored by James Thomas Shell, it documents the region’s collapse under globalization and civic erosion, then outlines a path toward renewal through local grit, infrastructure, and innovation. Divided into themed sections, it blends historical analysis, regional data, and tactical foresight to serve as both a reckoning and a roadmap for rural reinvention. The Shrinking Center explores how Hickory, North Carolina reflects the broader erosion of the American middle class. Through historical analysis, economic data, and regional comparisons, James Thomas Shell dissects the collapse of industrial job centers and the uneven attempts at recovery. The manuscript connects Hickory’s trajectory to towns across the South, Midwest, and Northeast, revealing shared struggles, unique adaptations, and the broader implications for policy, workforce development, and middle-class survival in post-industrial America.
1. Youth Outmigration: The Vanishing Future
Source:Rural America Is Losing Young People. Can It Recover? Publication:Wall Street Journal Date: May 2, 2025 Referenced in:The Shrinking Center – Section: Youth Outmigration and Aging
The Wall Street Journal confirms what I documented: young adults are leaving small cities like Hickory in large numbers. Nationally, 40–60% of rural youth leave for education or work and don’t return. The Hickory-Lenoir-Morganton metro area has a median age of 43.4, significantly older than the U.S. average. Even within Hickory city limits, the median age is 37.7 and rising. In The Shrinking Center, I show how this demographic shift is hollowing out our civic base, school systems, and future workforce.
2. Broadband and the Digital Lifeline
Source:Broadband Expansion Fuels Economic Growth in Rural South Publication:Forbes Date: April 28, 2025 Referenced in:The Foothills Corridor – Chapter 12: Trails, Broadband, and Food Hubs as Infrastructure
Forbes highlights how fiber infrastructure is revitalizing parts of the rural South—something I detailed years ago. Hickory is home to major manufacturers like CommScope and Corning, which together produce a large share of the country’s fiber-optic cable. In 2021, CommScope donated $275,000 for free Wi-Fi in Union Square. Meanwhile, BEAD federal funding is driving high-speed expansion across North Carolina. In The Foothills Corridor, I connect this infrastructure to workforce opportunity, showing how digital access isn’t just convenience—it’s survival.
3. Downtown Revitalization: Surface Without Substance
Source:Small Cities Bet on Downtown Revival to Stem Decline Publication:Bloomberg Date: April 30, 2025 Referenced in:The Foothills Corridor – Chapter 10: City Walk, Riverwalk, and the Hickory Bet
Bloomberg suggests that walkable downtowns and beautification projects are reversing decline in small cities. I disagree—at least in how it played out here. Hickory’s $40 million bond funded City Walk, Riverwalk, and other surface-level improvements. But as I argue in Chapter 10 of The Foothills Corridor, these projects were not backed by economic anchors. I was critical of the approach when it launched and remain so now. Walkability without workforce, retail without reinvestment—it’s a tourist shell if you don’t fix the foundation.
4. Advanced Manufacturing: A Narrow Lifeline
Source:Manufacturing Rebound in the South Faces Labor Challenges Publication:Reuters Date: May 5, 2025 Referenced in:The Shrinking Center – Section: Diversification into Technology
Reuters reports that manufacturing is returning to the South—but finding skilled labor is tough. That echoes what I said in The Shrinking Center. Hickory didn’t just lose jobs; it lost a generation of industrial know-how. The shift from furniture to fiber optics brought more technical, higher-paying roles, but fewer of them—and most required specialized training. While CommScope and Corning gave us a foothold in the tech sector, I’ve cautioned that unless we invest deeply in training and talent pipelines, this rebound risks being too small and too late.
5. Middle-Class Squeeze: A National Mirror
Source:Middle Class Squeeze: Why Small-Town America Is Falling Behind Publication:New York Times Date: May 7, 2025 Referenced in:The Shrinking Center – Bonus Essay / Prompt #11
Prompt #11 in The Shrinking Center asks a simple question: What does Hickory tell us about the American middle class? The New York Times provides the national backdrop. It reports that the share of Americans in middle-income households fell from 61% in 1971 to 50% by 2015—and Hickory reflects that same fall. Over 50% of our manufacturing jobs disappeared between 2000 and 2009. Wage growth stagnated. And our civic institutions weakened. This wasn’t just economic—it was cultural. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Hickory isn’t the exception. It’s the early warning.
Notes:
Time Frame: All articles are from the past two weeks (April 25–May 9, 2025), ensuring recency.
Validation: These sources do not always mention Hickory directly but corroborate the broader economic, demographic, and policy trends (e.g., deindustrialization, broadband expansion, downtown revitalization, youth outmigration) that the documents attribute to Hickory and its peers. This approach is necessary given the specificity of Hickory’s story and the short time frame for recent articles.
I will continue with the Shrinking Center Archetypes in the next article.
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Theme: Collapse, Consequence, and the Invisible Hand
Collapse doesn’t always look like chaos. Sometimes it’s calm, quiet—coated in language like “efficiency,” “global competitiveness,” or “market correction.” Faces of the Shrinking Center is not a tragedy. It’s a record. This volume captures the chain of consequence—how institutional decisions unravel individual lives.
These are the stories that never make the earnings report: a factory worker whose job vanished overnight, a college graduate whose ambition met a brick wall, and the faceless forces who triggered it all from far away.
They’re not statistics. They’re signals—of how entire communities are hollowed out by design, not disaster.
Archetype #7: The Laid-Off Millworker
“Thirty years of loyalty. Three minutes of notice.”
The Laid-Off Millworker is a man between 40 and 65 who worked in textile or furniture manufacturing for most of his adult life. He trusted the system: show up, work hard, retire with a modest pension. Then globalization came—and the machines were silenced.
He didn’t have a résumé. He didn’t need one. Until one Friday when he was handed a final check and a cardboard box. Now, he’s trying to start over in a world that doesn't value what he knows.
He wasn’t lazy. He wasn’t late. He was just in the way.
This archetype shows what happens when entire industries vanish without a plan for those left behind. He is the cost of someone else’s gain.
Archetype #8: The Forgotten Graduate
“Student of the system. Victim of the pivot.”
The Forgotten Graduate is typically between 23 and 35. She earned a degree, followed the rules, and bought into the promise that education was the great equalizer. But the job market changed—again. Her skills are “not quite right,” her résumé “not quite enough.”
She works part-time jobs that don’t touch her student loan interest. Her inbox is full of rejection emails. Her confidence, once high, is now managed in quiet doses of resignation.
She wasn’t entitled. She was prepared—for an economy that no longer exists.
This archetype reveals the disillusionment of a generation told to climb a ladder that no longer touches the ground.
Archetype #9: The Extractors
“They didn’t just leave. They took the future with them.”
The Extractors aren’t from Hickory—but their influence is everywhere. They sat in boardrooms, ran spreadsheets, approved closures. They didn’t shut down the plant in anger. They did it for “efficiency.” For “shareholder value.” For the model.
They didn’t see the people. They saw a line item. A margin improvement. A win.
They weren’t villains—they were professionals. And in a system that rewards extraction over investment, they played to win. The factory is gone. The jobs are gone. The community is still paying the tab.
This archetype isn’t a person. It’s a process—with a name, a title, and a golden parachute.
Final Note for This Drop
This volume isn’t about what went wrong. It’s about what was done.
The Laid-Off Millworker. The Forgotten Graduate. The Extractors.
One absorbed the blow. One was never given a chance. One pulled the lever.
This is the Shrinking Center—where loss isn’t an accident. It’s a business strategy.
Faces of the Shrinking Center is a portrait series
documenting the unraveling of the American middle class—by tracing who
gets left behind and who walks away clean. Volume 3 examines collapse
through consequence: the laid-off, the overlooked, and the ones who
pulled the plug. These aren’t accidents. They’re outcomes—designed,
approved, and distributed across zip codes.
Shrinking middle class, Post-industrial collapse, Working class
displacement, Laid-off workers, Forgotten graduates, Economic
extraction, Corporate greed, Deindustrialization, Small town decline,
Globalization fallout, Regional collapse, Economic injustice, American
job loss, Rust Belt South, Structural inequality, Economic survival,
Modern precarity, Class stratification, Systemic dislocation,
Storytelling series
Faces of the Shrinking Center is a portrait series that captures the quiet collapse of America’s middle—through the people living it. Each archetype represents a real struggle: unpaid caregivers, gig workers, displaced graduates, institutional lifers. These aren’t fringe stories—they’re the new normal in post-industrial towns across Flyover America. The series doesn’t sensationalize decline; it documents resilience, routine, and reality. From algorithm-chasing creators to forgotten millworkers, this is a chronicle of what happens when systems fail and survival becomes strategy. It’s not fiction. It’s not theory. It’s the lived experience of the 21st-century American middle, told one face at a time. Theme: Homefront, Hustle, and the Quiet Struggle Series Introduction
Not all collapse is loud. Sometimes it’s quiet—measured in burnout, unpaid labor, and the grind that never ends. Faces of the Shrinking Center isn’t a theory. It’s a diagnosis—of what happens when the middle holds just long enough to bend, but not to break.
These are the characters who don’t go viral. They go to work. They hold families together, keep the wheels turning, and fight silently for dignity inside a system that offers little in return. This volume focuses on the invisible load bearers—those who endure, adapt, and absorb the cost of everyone else’s change.
Drop #2 highlights three profiles that define the quiet struggle: the caregiver who never clocks out, the modern worker chasing gigs instead of stability, and the ghost of an economy that used to promise more.
Archetype #4: The Caregiver
“No paycheck. No pension. No choice.”
The Caregiver is often a woman between 35 and 70 who provides ongoing, unpaid care for aging parents, sick spouses, or vulnerable relatives. She may work a job on the side—or not at all—because her real shift never ends. Her risks include burnout, financial instability, and social isolation.
She’s the one managing meds, attending doctor appointments, calming panic attacks, and navigating insurance portals at midnight. Her labor saves the healthcare system billions, yet she earns nothing. She’s not in the headlines, but without her, the system would collapse overnight.
She doesn’t identify as a martyr. She identifies as tired. And yet she keeps going—not for recognition, but because no one else will. Her work is considered “love,” but it’s also logistics, sacrifice, and sustained emotional management.
This archetype reveals a brutal truth: in post-industrial America, the last functioning safety net is often a woman with a folding chair at bedside.
Archetype #5: The Ghost
“He’s not coming back—but he never really left.”
The Ghost doesn’t haunt houses. He haunts memory. He’s the laid-off union man, the closed plant, the echo in a storefront that used to sell shoes. He’s symbolic, but real. In Hickory and towns like it, the Ghost lingers in every vacant lot and family story.
He’s not necessarily old—just forgotten. The job he trained for doesn’t exist anymore. The path he was told to follow ended in an offshored detour. His voice rarely enters policy discussions, but his absence shapes every conversation.
He doesn’t demand attention. He drifts. But he still shapes identity—of towns, families, and expectations. To ignore him is to misunderstand the full emotional toll of deindustrialization.
This archetype forces us to admit: you can pave over a factory. You can’t pave over a legacy.
Archetype #6: The Modern Worker
“Always working. Never secure.”
The Modern Worker is between 25 and 45. He’s got multiple side hustles, no benefits, and a Wi-Fi bill he can barely afford. He’s the rideshare driver, the delivery app runner, the warehouse picker, or the freelance coder. His biggest risk? Burning out before breaking even.
He’s not lazy. He’s not entitled. He’s just grinding every hour for less than it’s worth. He knows there’s no ladder, so he’s collecting scraps. One gig gets canceled, another underpays, and still—he keeps pushing.
There’s no 401(k). No HR. No long-term anything. Just “independent contractor” status and an endless stream of push notifications. If he gets sick, the algorithm doesn’t care. If he logs off, the rent doesn’t wait.
This archetype captures the brutal rebranding of labor in the 21st century: freedom sold as flexibility, stability replaced by scramble.
Final Note for This Drop
These aren’t extraordinary people. They’re everyday ones carrying extraordinary burdens. The Caregiver. The Ghost. The Modern Worker.
They don’t chase headlines. They carry weight. Quietly. Constantly.
This is the Shrinking Center—where survival is the job no one clocks out of.
The surface stability of the Foothills Corridor is deceptive. Sidewalks gleam under fresh concrete, parks buzz with activity, and the labor market, on paper, appears steady. But beneath the appearances, the region's foundation remains brittle — weakened by decades of industrial erosion, external dependency, and civic drift. The nature of the business cycle is that another economic shockis not a question of if, but a matter of when. Most likely, when it arrives, it will not be as tumultuous as the economic collapse of 2008, nor will it paralyze like the 2020 pandemic; it will seep quietly into the bones of the economy, exposing every fault line that decades of cosmetic improvements have failed to heal. Unless serious groundwork is laid now, the next disruption will not simply test the region — it will unravel it.
Most likely, the next economic disruption facing the Foothills will not resemble the shocks of the past. We found new normals after the 2008 Financial Crisis and again after the Covid pandemic in 2020–21. Main Street America didn’t see sustained growth during Barack Obama’s or Joe Biden’s presidencies. We found settlings. The economy settled into a low-growth mode. The economy is so tied up by the national debt and stifling government policies that it has been teetering just above recession for years.
The next recession won’t be triggered by subprime mortgages or pandemic shutdowns, but by the accelerating forces of automation, artificial intelligence, and global realignment. Industries that still rely heavily on manual labor — logistics, warehousing, retail services — will be the first to feel the strain, as corporations consolidate operations and eliminate costs. Meanwhile, distant economic centers will rewire supply chains to favor proximity and efficiency, bypassing regions like Hickory that have failed to invest deeply in advanced infrastructure and human capital. Without strong local ownership of innovation and workforce development, the Foothills will find itself sidelined — not by catastrophe, but by quiet obsolescence.
The Foothills Corridor is particularly vulnerable to the coming disruption because the region has not addressed its deepest structural weaknesses. Much of the local economy remains anchored in logistics hubs, fulfillment centers, and retail-driven employment — sectors that offer few protections against automation or economic centralization. Besides, people who don’t have incomes won’t be spending money. When these workers are laid off, it will cause a cascading effect just like it did in 2008. The shock of 2020 was different — a quick jolt that we recovered from — because businesses adapted, and service industries were designated essential workers.
One issue in our area is that true infrastructure investment has lagged behind the needs of a modern workforce, while regional cooperation remains fragmented by outdated rivalries between towns that cannot survive alone. Ride Interstate 40 heading toward Raleigh, and you’ll see where major infrastructure investment is happening. Look at Interstates 73 and 74 rising through the center of the state. And of course, Charlotte’s development has been the behemoth shaping our broader region. Meanwhile, the Catawba River — our region’s lifeblood — is increasingly strained by Charlotte’s unfettered growth, yet no cohesive strategy has emerged to safeguard its long-term health. Perhaps most dangerously, the region’s talent pipeline is fractured; too many young people leave for opportunities elsewhere, and too few are being trained to lead a modernized local economy. Without decisive action, the Foothills will not merely experience disruption — it will absorb it without the civic muscle to respond.
Collapse in the Foothills will not arrive with a single catastrophic event. It will creep in slowly, dissolving the structures that once held the region together. So many businesses that once anchored our neighborhoods have already closed. We have seen the impact on local business firsthand. People still try to open new ventures, but it has gotten harder and harder to compete against mega-corporations and their economies of scale. Public services — schools, healthcare facilities, infrastructure maintenance — will suffer under shrinking tax bases and rising demands, leading to a cycle of deferred repairs and diminishing quality.
Young workers, already scarce, will accelerate their exit, taking their skills and civic energy with them. Ballfields will remain perfectly manicured but empty; community facilities will sit idle until they are mothballed; and the neighborhoods that surround the shuttered factories will fall further into blight. Without intervention, what remains will not be a sudden ruin, but a slow surrender — a region that, having lost its resilience, simply fades into oblivion.
In the history of human existence, there have always been good and bad economic times. Sometimes it is societal and cultural complacency that leads to a structural malaise; other times it is a Black Swan event. Bad political governance generally leads to those long, grinding declines, while Black Swan events tend to be short-term shocks that economies can survive if resilience is strong.
The Foothills Corridor can still change its long-term trajectory, but it will require action that moves beyond appearances. Regional unity must be built intentionally, with a common economic vision that scales resources and talent rather than divides them. We must coordinate, because unlike the major metros, we do not have millions of people stacked on top of each other. We must support local businesses. Local ownership — of businesses, infrastructure, and innovation — must be prioritized over short-term outside investment. Outside corporations extract our resources for the benefit of distant headquarters and Wall Street investors. Their goal is to minimize the labor dollar to inflate their balance sheets — not to build resilient communities here.
Investments in workforce training must focus on equipping young residents for emerging industries, not simply preserving yesterday’s job categories. Natural assets like the Catawba River must be treated as strategic lifelines, protected and integrated into long-term regional planning. Civic pride must be rekindled through real accomplishments, not through slogans and branding campaigns. The next shock is coming. Those who prepare will survive and thrive. Those who continue to polish the surface while ignoring the foundation will soon find there is nothing left to stand on.
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 - TheHickory 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.
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
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.
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.
