Sunday, June 8, 2025

Hickory, NC News & Views | Hickory Hound | June 8 2025

  




 

 HICKORY HOUND INTELLIGENCE REPORT

Title:
Reading the Signals: How to Spot Real Change Before It Becomes Obvious

Audience:
The Hickory Hound readership.

Overview:
This report gives a working system for identifying the first signs of real change in a region. Not hype. Not noise. Not press releases. These are the early markers—ideas, efforts, and small wins—that show whether we’re moving forward or just spinning our wheels. Every real comeback starts small. The key is learning to spot it early, support it wisely, and separate momentum from distraction.

I. Three Kinds of Signals That Matter

1. Woo Signals – These are just ideas—early-stage thoughts tossed around in conversations, meetings, or back porches.
Example: A teacher wonders aloud if an old storefront could be a tech lab.
Why it matters: Even the best projects start with “what if.” Don’t laugh these off. Track who’s saying what and how often it comes up.

2. Faint Signals – These are ideas with legs. Somebody’s filled out a grant form, started a committee, or lined up a meeting.
Example: A community college designs a course but hasn’t enrolled students yet.
Why it matters: These efforts are in motion. They might fizzle, or they might catch. These are the inflection points.

3. Weak Signals – These are projects that have launched—maybe just barely, but they’re running.
Example: A food hub distributes local produce. A trail opens. A broadband pilot begins.
Why it matters: This is proof-of-concept territory. These efforts deserve real support and follow-up. If they work, they can be scaled. If they fail, we learn.

 

II. How to Read the Ground

To spot signals, you have to know what to watch for. Here’s the short list:

· Look at the gaps – Progress isn’t even. A new park doesn’t mean the town’s fixed. Watch the contrast. What’s improving? What’s still busted?

· Follow infrastructure – Where are they putting money? Fiber lines, permits, trails, job centers—these are signals in plain sight.

· Watch the young and the old – If a town is holding on to both, it’s stable. If either group is drifting out, pay attention. Losing young people means the future is leaking out. Losing elders often means a loss of roots, memory, and care. If both are leaving, that’s a full-system warning.

· Listen to how people talk – Are folks talking about what’s possible, or only what’s broken? Mindset shifts show up in everyday language.

· Track the connectors – Some people operate in multiple circles at once—pastors, coaches, teachers, civic volunteers. They help move ideas, resources, and energy from one part of the community to another. Watch what roles they’re playing and which projects they’re involved in—they’re often the glue that makes progress possible.

· Measure impact, not noise – Activity doesn’t mean progress. Ask: who benefits? Can it last? Does it spread? Is it connected to other efforts?

 

III. What to Do With What You See

· Keep a list – Track Woo, Faint, and Weak signals in your town. Update it. Share it.

· Ask follow-up questions – What happened to that pilot program? Did that grant get awarded?

· Connect the dots – Don’t let wins sit in silos. A new trail is good. A trail that connects to housing, jobs, and small business? That’s a signal moving up the chain.

 

Final Word

The Foothills won’t be rebuilt overnight. But that doesn’t mean nothing’s happening. The signs are there—you just have to know what you’re looking for. This framework isn’t theory. It’s a tool for people who are paying attention, who care about where this region is going, and who aren’t fooled by flash.

Look for the real work. Support the early steps. And don’t let small wins go unnoticed.

 -------------------------------------------

 

GROUND LEVEL REPORT

These are active, confirmed developments already visible in the region:

  1. Juice Apothecary opens brick-and-mortar store in Harris Arcade
    → Storefront is open and operating. This is not an idea, it’s an active retail shift.

  2. Apprenticeship and training programs by Sonoco, CVMC, and City of Hickory
    → Job listings are live. Partnerships are in motion. These are already formalized and publicly available.

  3. Grassroots environmental cleanups in Burke and Valdese
    → Events have already occurred. Volunteer activity is documented and measurable. 

 

EARLY SIGNAL REPORT

These are real, but either subtle, emergent, or quietly gaining ground. They suggest larger shifts if they grow.

  1. E-bike adoption among older residents
    → Anecdotal chatter + light observational data. Not yet a dominant trend, but points to a shift in how older adults engage with mobility and greenways.

  2. Hickory Hangout (Millennial/Gen Z Meetup) social traction
    → The group exists and is growing quickly. It hasn’t yet transformed the local social landscape, but the growth rate and demographic interest signal a potential cultural inflection.

     Link to Google Document of Ground Level, Early Signal, and Cited references 



Underreported Regional Report – June 7, 2025

Hickory-Lenoir-Morganton-Marion MSA
(Link to Google Doc)

This analysis highlights four critical, underreported developments in the Hickory MSA between May 8 and June 7, 2025. First, a string of shootings in Morganton and Hickory has raised public safety concerns. A Morganton incident on May 31 left one dead and two injured, followed by a mass shooting in Hickory on June 1. Despite growing online discussion and speculation of connections between these events, broader media coverage has been minimal.

Second, the Humane Society of Catawba County terminated its executive director following an independent investigation into misconduct. Although covered locally, this accountability shift in a vital nonprofit has not received attention beyond the region.

Third, local authorities report a spike in scams targeting residents—ranging from fake DMV texts to calls impersonating law enforcement. These fraud attempts threaten public trust, yet remain absent from state or national headlines.

Finally, multiple infrastructure projects, including the U.S. 321 road project, signal upcoming investment in regional mobility and connectivity. Despite their long-term economic significance, these developments remain under the radar.

Together, these stories reveal a community managing crisis, reform, and growth simultaneously—largely unnoticed by broader media or policy institutions. Each deserves scrutiny, support, and continued local follow-through.

 


 

 The Index of Hickory Hound Stories from 2025 onward

This list will permanently remain under the Problems & Solutions forum to your right.
Look directly above and that is how you sign up for the e-mail list of the Hickory Hound to get updates.

 

 

Thursday, June 5, 2025

Dear Rachel: The Story of the Aspiring Creator: Why So Many Feel Like They're Falling Behind - June 5, 2025

 


🎙️ DEAR RACHEL is here.
A fictional call-in show with real-world resonance.
In Episode 1, The Aspiring Creator asks:
"Why am I doing everything right—and still falling behind?"
This isn't satire—it’s a mirror.
Watch, listen, or read: [Insert Link]
#DearRachel #AspiringCreator #WorkingClassVoices #HickoryHound

 

Why We Created “Dear Rachel” – Giving a Voice to the Voiceless

In the post-industrial shadow of the Foothills Corridor—a stretch of the Southern Mid-Atlantic once powered by mills, factories, and generational stability—something has been unraveling for decades. First it was jobs. Then community cohesion. Then dignity itself. The systems meant to catch people began collapsing, and those left behind were told to reinvent themselves, hustle harder, or fade quietly.

Dear Rachel was born to push back on that silence—not through data charts or policy memos, but by dramatizing the ache in the room that no one talks about. It’s a fictional call-in show, but the voices you hear are rooted in real-life struggle. Each archetype comes from The Shrinking Center, a cultural mapping of characters shaped by economic dislocation, civic betrayal, and a relentless demand to adapt in a system rigged for the already-powerful.

The Aspiring Creator, The Grandparent Who Stayed, The Institutional Lifer—these aren’t abstract types. They’re based on people we know, or perhaps the people we’ve become. They wrestle with questions like: “Why am I doing everything right and still falling behind?” or “What happened to the promises we built our lives around?” Dear Rachel gives them a place to ask out loud—and to be answered with care, insight, and solidarity.

Why now? Because traditional media doesn’t reach this center anymore. Because the loudest voices online often erase the human texture of working-class life. And because there are millions of Americans stuck between nostalgia and progress with no one speaking for them—until now.

I’ve asked people to send me feedback, and while I’ve gotten some, it’s been very little. I can see there are views, that something’s registering—but it still feels like I’m operating in a void. That’s unfortunate. It’s not cool being made into a loner just for trying to speak up with purpose. If you’re watching, reading, or listening—reach out. Let me know you’re out there.

Dear Rachel isn’t satire. It’s not parody. It’s a mirror. The Hickory Hound Network presents this series with dignity and depth—because people like us deserve to be heard.

The Aspiring Content Creator
The Grandparent who stayed
The Institutional Lifer

Tuesday, June 3, 2025

Communities of the Catawba River: Where Water Becomes Power and Wealth

Lake Norman & Mountain Island Lake

From quiet coves to nuclear cooling towers, this is the Catawba River’s final act before it leaves the region—and it’s anything but neutral.


 

 

Where the Water Pools—and Power Concentrates

Lake Norman is the largest manmade lake in North Carolina, stretching 33.6 miles long with over 520 miles of shoreline. Built between 1959 and 1964 by Duke Energy as part of the Cowans Ford Dam project, it powers the Piedmont through hydroelectricity and cools the turbines at the McGuire Nuclear Station. Mountain Island Lake, just downstream, may be smaller—only 3,281 acres compared to Lake Norman’s 32,510—but its function is arguably more critical: supplying drinking water to over one million residents in Mecklenburg County.

These two lakes do more than hold water—they convert geography into energy, infrastructure, and wealth. And they do it on the backs of communities upstream.

Built for Growth—but Not for Everyone

Lake Norman’s shoreline reads like a directory of Charlotte’s affluence: Cornelius, Davidson, Mooresville, Huntersville. Often dubbed the “Inland Sea,” the lake is surrounded by marinas, country clubs, and sprawling developments that offer waterfront tranquility just 30 minutes from Uptown Charlotte. Beneath the surface, however, lies a buried history—communities that once stood where the lake now sits were flooded in the name of progress, and voices from upstream have long been excluded from conversations about its use.

Downstream, Mountain Island Lake lacks the polish and tourism appeal of its neighbor, but it holds perhaps the most critical role in the chain. Formed in 1924 to power the Mountain Island Hydroelectric Station, this quieter body of water now serves as Charlotte’s lifeline. It is where water pumped from upstream towns becomes utility—filtered, treated, and sent to taps in one of America’s fastest-growing metros. This lake doesn't make headlines, but its strategic importance is profound.



Water Agreements and Interbasin Transfers: Who Decides?

The water that fills Lake Norman and Mountain Island Lake begins its journey in Old Fort and Marion. It moves through Morganton, Hickory, and the town of Catawba—places that built their identity around the river’s strength, only to see it rerouted and repurposed with little voice in the matter. Interbasin Transfers (IBTs), like those sought by Charlotte, have shifted not just the river’s path but the region’s power dynamics.

Charlotte’s growth has increased demand for more Catawba water—creating political tension and legislative pushback. In 2024, lawmakers introduced new restrictions on IBTs, fueled by concerns from smaller communities who fear their resources are being extracted for someone else’s benefit. The water that cools data centers and powers homes in Charlotte still originates upstream, and the imbalance has become impossible to ignore.

Environmental Cost, Economic Disparity

While both lakes are engineered to provide power and utility, they’re also flashpoints for environmental strain. Lake Norman has faced ongoing issues with coal ash contamination and shoreline erosion, driven by dense residential development and runoff. Despite regulations mandating buffer zones and erosion control, the damage is visible—and irreversible in some areas.

Mountain Island Lake, meanwhile, still bears the ecological scars of the decommissioned Riverbend Steam Station, where unlined coal ash ponds leaked arsenic and cobalt into surrounding groundwater. Duke Energy’s cleanup began in earnest only after years of legal and public pressure. Even today, questions remain about how sustainable these reservoirs are in the face of population growth and climate change.

The imbalance isn’t just ecological—it’s economic. Catawba County and Caldwell County host massive server farms powered by energy and cooled with water from these lakes, but the high-paying tech jobs remain in Charlotte. The infrastructure exists here; the wealth does not. The water flows south, and so does the prosperity.

A Regional Reckoning Is Overdue

Communities like Hickory, Marion, and Morganton aren’t anti-growth. They simply want a seat at the table. They want infrastructure investments to reflect the burden they carry. They want Duke Energy, Charlotte’s corporate sector, and even state officials to recognize that the lakes at the end of the Catawba, in this region, don’t exist in isolation—they’re the final chapter in a regional story of imbalance.

Lake Norman and Mountain Island Lake represent the culmination of decades of decisions made without upstream consent. They are not just lakes. They are mirrors, reflecting the hierarchy of growth and the politics of power in the Catawba Basin.

If there is to be sustainability—economic, environmental, or regional—it will require more than water-sharing agreements. It will require truth-sharing, benefit-sharing, and a recalibration of who gets to write the next chapter.

------------------------------------------------------

#LakeNorman #MountainIslandLake #CatawbaRiver #CharlotteWaterCrisis #DukeEnergy #EnvironmentalJustice #WaterPolitics #FoothillsCorridor #NCInfrastructure #CharlotteNC #HickoryNC
#InterbasinTransfer #NorthCarolinaWater #RegionalEquity #CommunitiesoftheCatawbaRiver

 ✅ If this resonates with you, share it with someone upstream—or downstream. Leave a comment, message me at hickoryhoundfeedback@gmail.com or follow for more content.

 📬 Subscribe to in-depth coverage on Substack: The Hound’s Signal



 

Sunday, June 1, 2025

Hickory, NC News & Views | Hickory Hound | June 1, 2025

 

 

Check out the Communities of the Catawba River from last week: 

Communities of the Catawba River: Where the River Begins - May 27, 2025

Communities of the Catawba River: Where Industry Rose and Power Shifted - May 29, 2025

 

 ------------------------------------------ 

Across the Foothills Corridor, a region once known for its industrial ingenuity and cultural cohesion, a quieter story is unfolding. There are no headlines, no emergency declarations, and few camera crews. But if you listen closely, a deep structural shift is taking place—one that speaks volumes about what happens when the national spotlight turns away.

Once the backbone of American manufacturing, towns from Lenoir to Valdese anchored a postwar economy with furniture, textiles, and hard-earned stability. Today, many of those same towns are navigating an uneasy transition. The mills are gone. The jobs that replaced them rarely offer benefits, let alone generational security. And the connective tissue of civic life—from local journalism to youth sports leagues—is thinning with each passing year.

This is not a story of collapse. It is a story of what lingers after momentum leaves.

Many communities in the Corridor still bear the physical marks of a more prosperous era: wide brick main streets, high school auditoriums, downtown facades built to last. But the economic engine that powered them has been redirected—first offshore, then toward metropolitan hubs. Charlotte and Raleigh boom. The Corridor adapts.

But adaptation is not the same as progress.

Infrastructure tells part of the story. In places like Granite Falls and Morganton, sewer systems date back to the 1950s. Broadband remains inconsistent in outlying areas. While major cities invest in smart grids and multimodal transport, foothills towns are often left to patch what they have.

Population trends reveal another dimension. While some counties have stabilized or seen mild growth, much of it is retirement-driven. Young adults, especially those with degrees or ambition for high-wage sectors, often relocate. The communities left behind maintain a sense of identity—but must do so with fewer hands and aging volunteers.

Public governance reflects the strain. With declining revenues, towns face hard choices: maintain aging infrastructure or invest in future-facing projects? Fund parks or broadband? There are no easy answers, and in many places, no coordinated plans. Counties often work in isolation, despite shared challenges.

Yet beneath the quiet, something persistent endures. It can be seen in local farmers markets, in volunteer fire departments, in the slow but steady work of community colleges offering upskilling to those transitioning from fading industries. There is resilience here—not romanticized, not performative, just steady.

And there is opportunity.

Healthcare has emerged as a key sector. So have niche manufacturing and heritage tourism. In Valdese, a renewed focus on Waldensian history has sparked modest economic renewal. In Hickory, downtown revitalization is being attempted through streetscaping and business incubation. These efforts are real, but they exist within a context that remains structurally imbalanced.

Too often, regional strategy is reactive rather than proactive. Grants are pursued without alignment. Economic development is defined by outside recruitment rather than local incubation. And coordination between towns—despite common interests—remains limited.

This leaves a corridor of communities working hard but often working alone.

What they need is not charity. Not saviors. What they need is recognition: of their worth, of their strategic position between the Piedmont and Appalachia, of their potential as more than logistics hubs or discount retirement zones. What they need are partnerships that value place-based knowledge and localized stewardship.

The story of the Foothills Corridor is not over. But it is at risk of being written by people who have never lived here, or worse, forgotten altogether. As state and federal policy shift toward regional investment, now is the time to ensure these towns are not afterthoughts.

They do not ask for pity. They ask to be seen clearly—and dealt with honestly.

As the state looks to the next phase of economic development, the quiet durability of the Foothills Corridor deserves a seat at the table. Because in a world chasing speed and scale, there is strategic value in communities that still know how to hold the center.

--------------------------------------------------

 Hickory, NC News & Views | Hickory Hound | May 18, 2025

 

The Dirt Is Moving—But What Are We Really Building?

Across Hickory, rooftops are multiplying. The dirt is turning faster than it has in decades, and everywhere you look—on the outskirts, in tight city parcels, and even on old forgotten lots—new homes are appearing.

For a town with a history steeped in industrial factories, this level of residential development might look like a long-awaited rebound. But anyone paying attention can’t help but ask: What exactly is driving all this construction? And who is it really for?

WBTV: Are new homes in the Carolinas built to fail? WBTV to share what we’ve learned May 29, 2025

 --------------------------------------------------------

Data Server farms in North Carolina - (Google Doc embedded in title) -  I think that if Data Centers are going to have a significant impact on the Economics of our local communities, then it is high time that people start learning what they represent. 


Former CEO of Google Eric Schmidt says we will need 90 gigawatts of power for A.I. - TedTalk - May 15, 2025 -A nuclear plant produces roughly a gigawatt of power. That should tell you the amount of capacity we need. That is over what presently exists. We are going to have to get innovative with energy.

Google Document for this article. - June 1, 2025

*** I have created Google Documents for this material and Links are attached.



 The Index of Hickory Hound Stories from 2025 onward

This list will permanently remain under the Problems & Solutions forum to your right.
Look directly above and that is how you sign up for the e-mail list of the Hickory Hound to get updates.

Thursday, May 29, 2025

Communities of the Catawba River: Where Industry Rose and Power Shifted

The Catawba River flows with the memory of work. For decades, it coursed through the engine room of western North Carolina, passing through towns that once stood at the center of industry, innovation, and regional momentum. Morganton, Hickory, and the Town of Catawba are not merely dots on a map—they are milestones in a journey that reveals how prosperity is won, and how influence is quietly lost.

 


Morganton: The Foundry of Foundation

Nestled near the South Mountains and Lake James, Morganton bears the weight of a longer history than most towns in North Carolina can claim. Long before European colonists arrived, this land was home to the Mississippian culture—a place called Joara, where Hernando de Soto’s men built Fort San Juan in 1567. It was the first European settlement in the interior of North America. But Morganton’s modern history was forged in factories. Incorporated in 1784 and eventually becoming the county seat of Burke County, Morganton built its reputation as a center of furniture manufacturing, textiles, and skilled labor.

Today, the echoes of that industrial era are still visible, though the economy has changed. Morganton has embraced revitalization, leaning into its cultural heritage and natural beauty to remain relevant. But the river still runs through it—feeding into a broader regional identity that ties it to Hickory and beyond. What the town now grapples with is not the memory of what it once was, but the uncertainty of what role it can play in a region whose power has shifted downstream.

 


Hickory: The Engine That Stalled

Further east, the City of Hickory stands as a symbol of what western North Carolina once promised. It was here that craft met commerce—where woodworking mastery fueled one of the nation’s most respected furniture industries. Hickory didn’t just grow; it led. With a metro population surpassing 365,000 today, it remains the economic anchor of the Unifour region.

But like many manufacturing towns, Hickory suffered under the weight of globalization and deindustrialization. Its once-bustling factories gave way to empty warehouses, and its skilled labor force faced an uncertain future. Yet, Hickory is nothing if not adaptive. The city invested in fiber-optic infrastructure, recruited data centers, and modernized its hospitals and universities. It launched the City Walk—a pedestrian corridor meant to reshape urban life and attract new investment.

Still, beneath the city’s aesthetic reinvention is a more sobering reality. When Charlotte requested a massive interbasin transfer from the Catawba River nearly two decades ago—33 million gallons a day—Hickory had the means to respond, but not the posture. It invested in image but not in influence. And when the decision passed without significant pushback, it became clear: the city that once defined the region’s economy had lost its regional leverage. The water flows on. So does the power.

 


Catawba: The Forgotten Fulcrum

At the edge of Lake Norman, the Town of Catawba carries a quieter legacy. Incorporated in 1893, this modest community once depended on agriculture and the railroad. Its population has never breached a thousand, and yet, it sits at a critical juncture—close to the river’s path and just west of where Charlotte begins to extend its reach.

Catawba’s story is not about dominance but proximity. As the Catawba River slows into Lake Norman, the conversation shifts from economic development to water politics. And though this town doesn’t drive the policy decisions that govern the basin, it is directly affected by them. The town’s access to natural resources is shaped by deals struck elsewhere. Its future is tied to voices it often cannot hear.

Catawba is not forgotten by geography. It’s forgotten by the dynamics of decision-making. And it shares that plight with Morganton and Hickory, even if the scale is different.

The River Remembers

The western section of the Catawba River—from the highlands near Morganton to the confluence near Catawba—is not just a series of tributaries. It is a continuum of culture, labor, and value. These communities helped build North Carolina’s industrial backbone. They trained generations of craftsmen, seeded public institutions, and created wealth for people far beyond their borders.

But in today’s policy environment, they are too often treated as peripheral. Decisions about water use, development incentives, and infrastructure investment are now made in Charlotte’s orbit. The river is still theirs—but the influence is not.

Conclusion: A Call for Rebalancing

If the communities of the western Catawba River are to reclaim their place in the regional dialogue, they must act as a bloc—not in nostalgia, but in clarity. They must assert their importance not just through history, but through vision. The river remembers what these cities built. Now they must remember what they’re still capable of.

They sit not at the edge of the story—but at its turning point.

 



Communities of the Catawba River: Where the River Begins

Hickory, NC News & Views | Hickory Hound | May 25, 2025

Catawba River Crisis: Charlotte’s Water Demand and the 25-Year Strain on Catawba County - April 8, 2025

The Catawba River Crisis: A Foothills Fight for the Future - April 16, 2025

 

Can Hickory’s Youth Turn a River Crisis Into a Tech Revolution? - April 22, 2025

#HickoryNC #MogantonNC #CatawbaNC #CatawbaRiver #FoothillsCorridor  #RegionalVoice #TheHickoryHound #CommunitiesOfTheCatawba  #BurkeCounty #CatawbaCounty #WesternNC #NCWater #Deindustrialization #NAFTA #FoothillsCorridor #I40 #DukeEnergy  #WaterGovernance #MountainToMetro #RegionalPlanning #NCWater