Tuesday, April 22, 2025

Can Hickory’s Youth Turn a River Crisis Into a Tech Revolution?

Can Hickory’s Youth Turn a River Crisis Into a Tech Revolution?

In the Foothills, there are five kinds of people:
The ones who’ve lost.
The ones who are stuck.
The ones just treading water.
The ones trying to build something.
And the ones pulling the strings—whether anyone sees it or not.

This article isn’t for one group over another. It’s for all of them—because if this region has a future, it’ll take every seat at the table.

From the banks of a strained river to the boardrooms quietly weighing what comes next, we’re at an inflection point.

Not everyone sees the warning signs.
But anyone with vision knows: you don’t wait until collapse to start adapting.

A River Under Strain, and a City in Transition

The Catawba River used to power this region. Now it’s absorbing the cost of everyone else's growth. Server farms pull millions of gallons per day. Poultry runoff pollutes the basin. The algae blooms are no longer seasonal—they’re structural.

At the same time, Hickory still hasn’t fully recovered from the collapse of its industrial base. Since the '80s, we've seen over 40,000 manufacturing jobs disappear. For the people with options, that meant moving on. For the rest? They stayed behind, took the hits, and kept going.

Charlotte continues expanding tens of thousands every year. Raleigh-Durham-Chapel Hill is doing the same. And Hickory/Catawba County? It’s still debating which direction it’s even facing.

Timeline: Key Economic Collapses in the Foothills Corridor

1994	NAFTA ratified	Accelerated textile outsourcing
1998	Broyhill Furniture sells to Interco	Begins hollowing of Lenoir’s manufacturing base
2001	Alcatel shuts down large fiber plant in Hickory	Over 3,000 jobs lost in 6 months
2008	Great Recession hits	Double-digit unemployment across Burke & Caldwell
2012	American Drew ceases major production	Newton loses final legacy furniture factory
2015–2020	CommScope downsizes operations	High-paying tech/fiber jobs replaced with lower-wage subcontracting

A Strategic Play—Not a Pity Program

Here’s the idea: Use the pressure on our environment to justify real investment in talent—local talent.

Train a thousand youth through CVCC over five years in robotics, AI, environmental monitoring, and automation. Equip them to solve real problems in water purification, server infrastructure, and precision agriculture.

Why? Because data centers, green tech firms, and logistics companies are already sniffing around the region. But what they want isn't dirt. It's talent.

The proposal isn't a dream. It's a workforce pipeline with a built-in ROI:

500 direct jobs
$15 million in wages
$5+ million in green-tech sales
All built on NCWorks grants, private partners like CommScope, and federal reshoring incentives

This isn’t charity. This is leverage.

Behavioral Economics > Pep Talks

If you want young people to stay, you don’t talk them into it. You structure incentives.

Think visual signals of achievement—Tech Star badges, digital resumes that get flagged in hiring pipelines, public recognition campaigns like “Built in the Foothills.” Success has to look like success, especially when the default narrative says the only way to win is to leave.

This isn’t about saving a generation. It’s about making staying a power move.

“The Three Layers of Loss”
Economic collapse triggered cascading losses in identity and population. True reinvention must address all three layers simultaneously—not just create new jobs, but restore community and belonging

Reality Check: Who’s Going to Fight It?

Expect resistance.

Some of the old guard will dismiss it.
Some of the elite class will feel threatened.
Some bureaucrats will try to run it through ten layers of red tape just to say it died on arrival.

Let them.

You know what doesn’t work? Waiting for consensus from people with no skin in the game. You build coalitions from the middle—people who want to work, want to grow, and want to matter.

The 20% with resources want to see a plan that protects their future too. This is that plan: a cleaner river, a stronger labor force, and a more valuable region.

Metrics	Why it matters	Goals
Youth Retention	Keeps Talent Home	Reduce out-migration from 33% to 20%
Broadband Access	Enables Tech Jobs	From 87.5% to 95% Household coverage by 2030

Don’t Sell the Struggle. Sell the Strategy.

This isn’t about being stuck in the past. It’s about building a future that works for more than just the top 1%.

But if the Foothills is going to pull this off, we need every player on the field—from the high school dropout with a work ethic to the regional exec watching this all from the country club boardroom.

This proposal is a win for both. Because when your basin collapses, your real estate loses value. When your workforce leaves, your supply chain falters. When your town dries up, you’re left guarding a pile of depreciating assets.

Let’s Talk—In Public

I’m not interested in posting this and walking away.

At some point soon, I’d like to organize a public forum—open to residents, entrepreneurs, educators, skeptics, and anyone with an interest in what this region becomes.

This isn’t about slogans. It’s about positioning Hickory for the next 25 years, not the last 50. And if that future includes robotics, AI, clean infrastructure, and strategic training partnerships—so be it.

But we better decide fast.

Because while we argue, the best talent and the cleanest water are both walking out the back door.

Let’s start rowing. Before the current takes the rest of us with it.

hickoryhoundfeedback@gmail.com

—
Commander Shell
The Hickory Hound

Monday, April 21, 2025

Hickory, NC News & Views | Hickory Hound | April 20, 2025

This week on The Hickory Hound, we examined the toll globalization has taken—not just on jobs, but on the American spirit itself. Tuesday’s article, “The Hidden Wound,” traced how decades of offshoring hollowed out communities like ours and left a psychic scar still unhealed. On Thursday’s podcast, “The Catawba River Crisis,” we followed the water upstream and the money downstream, showing how our most vital resource has been sacrificed to feed someone else’s growth. Both pieces lead to one question: can we still build something real—for ourselves, and not just for those who profit from our silence

Tuesday, April 15, 2025 - How Globalization Shattered the American Spirit - The Hidden Wound: How Globalization Shattered the American Spirit—And What We Can Do About It

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

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Smoke, Mud, and Money: How the Foothills Are Fighting Back After Helene

It’s Spring 2025 in the Foothills. But forget the flowers and sunshine. Here, it’s smoke in the air, mud underfoot, and the long, grinding road to economic survival after Hurricane Helene flipped Western North Carolina upside down.

Let’s get one thing straight: This isn’t a look back. This is a live report from McDowell, Rutherford, Polk, and Cleveland Counties. Let’s go.

Segment 1: Economics – Helene’s Aftermath: A Crisis in the Shadows

In the wake of Hurricane Helene, there are still people in crisis—not just water damage and downed trees. We’re talking about people—our Western neighbors—living in tents, trailers, and other temporary housing.

It gets worse. External investors—many with ties to lithium and quartz mining and other rare earth minerals—are swooping in, buying land from distressed homeowners for pennies on the dollar. That’s not a deal—it’s taking advantage of vulnerable people.

And where’s the federal aid? Apparently, $9 billion in aid was promised back in December, but barely a fraction has arrived. Where is the sense of urgency? Meanwhile, with a sense of urgency, corporate vultures have swooped in to pick the bones of these communities.

This isn’t just an economic story—it’s a warning. When disaster strikes, rural folks become targets—not just of nature, but of a corrupt system that takes advantage of people when they are vulnerable.

Segment 1: McDowell County – Fire on the Mountain

April 15th, 2025—The Bee Rock Creek Fire sparked near the Armstrong Fish Hatchery. Over 850 acres scorched, still just 10% contained. 180 firefighters from across the region are fighting uphill—literally—on slopes jammed with trees and debris from Helene. Evacuations on Wild Acres Road, and that’s just the start.

McDowell’s still reeling from the flood that shut down Baxter International’s plant in Marion. Medical supply chains disrupted, jobs gone. And now this fire—more pressure, more strain. The NC Forest Service is short over 100 people. Fires are burning faster than they can respond. Meanwhile, the Foothills Food Hub does what it can, but the gap is too wide.

Segment 2: Rutherford County – Hope on a Dirty Shoreline

Yes, Lake Lure is open. So are Rutherfordton, Spindale, and Forest City. But don’t let the welcome signs fool you. Cleanup continues. Chimney Rock? Still closed. Broad River? Still clogged with debris. The dam? Still looming.

Oliver Anthony’s rally brought in $80,000 for Helene recovery. SBA loans extended through April 27. FEMA is trickling in some help. But ask local businesses in downtown Rutherfordton, and they’ll tell you—it doesn’t feel like recovery. It feels like survival. And the $633 million state budget for debris? Nice headline. But when it’s split a dozen ways, most of it evaporates before it lands.

Segment 3: Polk County – Where the Ashes Are Still Hot

March brought three wildfires—Black Cove, Deep Woods, and Fish Hook. 6,000 acres torched, only 10% contained by spring. Table Rock? Now the biggest wildfire in Upstate history. Mandatory evacuations, four homes lost, air quality—Code Red.

Polk depends on farming and tourism. Wildfires crushed both. Landfills are maxed out, debris is everywhere. FEMA is stepping in to help with roads and bridges. Reforestation grants are coming, but they can’t keep pace. Locals are stepping up—volunteers with chainsaws, farmers replanting. But let’s be real—this is duct tape on a gaping wound.

Segment 4: Cleveland County – The Quiet Struggle

Shelby went dark after Helene. Duke Energy had power mostly restored by October, but the damage didn’t end there. Roads, homes, businesses—still struggling. Cleveland has helped others—feeding kids, checking in on the elderly. But that’s not development; that’s triage.

Broadband is coming. U.S. 74 is finally getting its upgrade. But these are seeds, and the soil is still scorched. Until the foundations are rebuilt, industry’s not coming back. And time is running out.

The Big Picture

Helene caused $60 billion in damage. 121,000 homes hit. 12,000 people still displaced as of January. Now wildfires—fueled by over 800,000 acres of Helene debris—are kicking recovery while it's down.

Yes, there’s help. But not enough. Not fast enough. And not directed where it’s most needed. Raleigh’s debating ferry tolls, meanwhile, our mountains are on fire. And it’s the local folks—the food hubs, the volunteers, the school systems—that are holding the line. The ones doing the most have the least to fall back on.

Final Thought

This isn’t a story about doom. This is a story about grit. But grit doesn’t pour concrete. It doesn’t replace jobs. It doesn’t build broadband. The Foothills corridor is still standing, still fighting. But we’re doing it with smoke in our lungs and shovels in our hands. And if nobody else is watching? Then it’s up to us to make them.

I’ve also started contributing articles over on Medium. That content is aimed at the national stage—to get the folks in Washington and the big metro areas to finally pay attention to places like ours.

Patreon is in the works. That’ll be the place for people who want to support this platform directly—and gain access to special reports, deep dives, and behind-the-scenes material from this blog’s beginning.

My cookbook A Book of Seasons is now live on Amazon. And I’ll have personal copies ready later this week. My next cookbook Saucy is almost done—it’ll be submitted shortly, and I’ll keep you in the loop.

And finally—my next major project: a book that defines the past, present, and future of the Foothills Corridor. It’s underway, and I’m deep in the work.

Commander Shell, signing off from the Hound.

Relevant Links:

Bee Rock Creek Fire Update: InciWeb Incident Information
Oliver Anthony's Helene Relief Efforts: Facebook Update
Hurricane Helene Damage Assessment: NC Office of State Budget and Management
State of the Catawba

Wednesday, April 16, 2025

The Catawba River Crisis: A Foothills Fight for the Future

🎙️ Podcast Title: The Catawba River Crisis: A Foothills Fight for the Future
🎤 Narrated by: Rachel A.I. for The Hickory Hound Podcast
🧠 Research by: James Thomas Shell, X.A.I., ChatGPT

This is Rachel A.I. for The Hickory Hound Podcast, where we tackle the issues shaping the heart of western North Carolina. I’m your host, and the information below has been gathered under the direction of James Thomas Shell—organized and collated by X.A.I. and produced with the assistance of ChatGPT and Commander Shell.

Today, we’re following up on an article published early last week titled The Catawba River Crisis: Charlotte’s Water Demand and the 25-Year Strain on Catawba County.

We’re going to connect this environmental issue to the broader story of the Foothills Corridor—a 20-county region that’s endured economic collapse and is now seeking reinvention. This isn’t about hype. It’s about truth. Understanding the stakes. Learning from the past. And outlining what we do next.

Let’s get into it.

The Catawba River is a lifeline for the Foothills Corridor. It originates about ten miles east of Asheville in McDowell County and flows southeast through Burke County, forming borders along and between Caldwell, Catawba, Alexander, Iredell, Lincoln, Gaston, and Mecklenburg Counties before reaching Charlotte. From there, it continues into South Carolina, becomes the Wateree River, then joins with the Congaree to form the Santee River—emptying into the Atlantic Ocean just ten miles south of Georgetown.

Historically, the Catawba has sustained agriculture, powered industries, and supplied drinking water to millions. But that lifeline is fraying. Pollution from industrial runoff, agricultural discharge, and aging infrastructure has caused toxic algae blooms, fish kills, and unsafe water. Since 2020, Catawba County has seen a 20% increase in water quality violations, according to the North Carolina Department of Environmental Quality. Despite these warnings, the official response has been fragmented and slow. Communities are at risk—and they know it.

But this isn’t just an environmental story. It’s a systemic one.

The Catawba River crisis is emblematic of the broader struggles of the Foothills Corridor. In Commander Shell’s upcoming book, The Foothills Corridor: A Blueprint for Rural Reinvention, he documents how this 20-county region shifted from a thriving manufacturing hub to a fractured, under-resourced shadow of its former self.

From the 1950s through the 1980s, towns like Hickory, Gastonia, and Marion were built on furniture, textiles, and fiber optics. Families lived well on mill jobs. You didn’t need a college degree—you needed work ethic. But starting in the 1980s, globalization hit. Trade policies like NAFTA, passed in 1994, accelerated the outflow of jobs. Between 1990 and 2010, Hickory alone lost more than 40,000 manufacturing jobs. Entire towns saw their economic base collapse—followed by downtown closures, youth outmigration, and declining civic morale.

Commander Shell draws a direct line: the same neglect that gutted our economy is now threatening our environment. Trade deals left workers behind. Lax environmental policies leave entire communities vulnerable to water insecurity and health risks. And in both cases, it’s the ordinary people—the ones who stayed behind—who pay the price.

To further drive the point, the book compares the Foothills to the Rust Belt.

Chapter 2 dives into the shared pattern of collapse. Between 1990 and 2020, Rust Belt states like Michigan, Ohio, and Pennsylvania lost over 800,000 manufacturing jobs—a 32.65% drop. The Foothills lost 15,000, nearly 30%. In 2009, Shell’s articles for The Hickory Hound analyzed Milken Institute data. Hickory ranked 191 out of 200 metros. The unemployment rate was 15.4%—on par with Flint at 16.5% and Detroit at 14.9%. These numbers weren’t outliers—they were indicators of long-term economic and civic breakdown.

But collapse isn’t the end of the story.

Some Rust Belt cities fought back. Pittsburgh turned itself into a tech and healthcare powerhouse. They didn’t just mourn lost steel—they retrained workers, repurposed infrastructure, and reimagined their future. The Foothills can do the same.

The Catawba River could be our turning point.
Here’s how.

Step one: Regional coordination.

The river spans multiple counties—yet for decades, these counties have operated in silos, duplicating efforts and missing shared opportunities. Chapter 18, The 20-County Challenge, argues for regional dashboards and shared governance models. The Catawba crisis demands a task force—uniting county leaders, nonprofits, businesses, and residents. They can monitor water quality, secure funding, and crack down on polluters. This isn’t charity—it’s survival.

Step two: Tying restoration to new industries.

Chapter 16, The Renewable Energy Play, outlines how Duke Energy is already building solar farms across the Foothills. If we combine this with regenerative agriculture, buffer zones, and smart land use, we can reduce runoff and protect water sources. Microgrids and local energy cooperatives could give communities both power and purpose. Many local workers already have HVAC and electrical skills—let’s create jobs that can’t be offshored and use them to protect the river.

Step three: Involve the youth.

Chapter 17, Community Education and Youth Retention, says it plainly: the Foothills must give young people a reason to stay. The Catawba River can be that reason. CVCC and area high schools could launch river-centric programs—where students monitor water quality, develop filtration technology, and advocate for environmental justice. These programs wouldn’t just teach—they’d empower. And they’d help restore a connection between youth and place.

This moment—this crisis—is a wake-up call. But it’s also a chance.

In 2009, The Hickory Hound wrote about how Hickory ranked 61st out of 63 metros in creative job sectors. That lack of imagination nearly doomed us once. We can’t let it happen again.

Look at Asheville. They turned tourism into a cultural engine.
Look at Winston-Salem. They built an innovation district on tobacco ruins.
Why not us? Why not the river?

Commander Shell writes that the Foothills doesn’t need “gloss.” We need grit. Honest, hard-fought progress. This river can’t be saved with slogans. It takes unity. Strategy. Sweat. And storytelling.

So what can you do?

Contact your county commissioners.
Ask CVCC and high schools to support water-focused youth programs.
Share this podcast with your network.
Make your voice heard—in Raleigh, in meetings, and online.

The Foothills Corridor has the tools. We just need the will. The river crisis isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of a blueprint for reinvention—one county, one river, one future at a time.

That’s it for this episode of The Hickory Hound Podcast. If you want to go deeper, send us feedback and tell us what topics matter to you. Let’s build something real.

This is Rachel, signing off.

Y’all come back now. You hear?

Part 1 - Catawba River Crisis: Charlotte’s Water Demand and the 25-Year Strain on Catawba County

🔗 Full article & references available at: https://thehickoryhound.blogspot.com

📬 Feedback, tips, or comments? Email: hickoryhoundfeedback@gmail.com

💡 Narration powered by: Rachel A.I. (via ElevenLabs) Produced by: X.A.I., ChatGPT, and Commander Shell

🛡️ Leadership & Direction:** Commander Shell, Shell Cooperative LLC

#CatawbaRiver #FoothillsCorridor #HickoryNC #EnvironmentalCrisis #RuralReinvention #CharlotteIBT #WaterCrisis #RustBeltSouth #RegionalRevival #CommanderShell

Tuesday, April 15, 2025

How Globalization Shattered the American Spirit

The Hidden Wound: How Globalization Shattered the American Spirit—And What We Can Do About It

What happens when a town loses its livelihood—but the people stay?

In the Foothills Corridor of North Carolina, this isn’t a thought experiment. It’s lived reality. Once anchored by furniture factories, textile mills, and pride in a hard day’s work, this region now carries something invisible but heavy: psychological fallout.

Let’s be clear—this isn’t just about jobs. It’s about dignity. It’s about waking up every morning knowing your labor matters. And when globalization hollowed out the economic base of towns like Hickory, Lenoir, and Morganton, it didn’t just take away paychecks. It took away purpose.

The Collapse No One Talks About

For the past 30 years, free trade deals, offshoring, and automation have eaten away at rural economies. Factories shut down. Work dried up. And families were left to quietly cope.

There was no headline for it. No FEMA trailers. No national reckoning. Just a slow erosion of identity.

People said things like, “It is what it is,” or “Ain’t nobody coming to save us.”

But behind those phrases was grief. Real grief. The kind you don’t cry about in public, but carry in your bones. And behind that grief? A dangerous silence.

Addiction rates rose. Depression deepened. Energy drained from entire neighborhoods. Young people left—or stayed and inherited the same quiet rage. This wasn’t just an economic downturn. It was a generational trauma that policymakers ignored because it didn’t fit on a spreadsheet.

Globalization Wasn’t Just a Policy. It Was a Punch.

Let’s talk brass tacks. The United States runs a $1 trillion annual trade deficit, fueled by a consumer economy obsessed with low prices, instant gratification, and foreign-made goods. That’s money leaving our communities—and jobs going with it.

And what do we get in return? Cheap electronics. Discount sofas. And a growing dependence on countries that don’t care about our workers, our environment, or our future.

Economists like Scott Bessent and Peter Navarro have argued that globalization—left unchecked—traded away blue-collar jobs for Wall Street profits. The jobs lost in towns like Hickory weren’t accidents. They were collateral damage in a game of global chess.

Behavioral Economics Explains the Trap We’re In

Why do people keep spending money on foreign goods—even when they know it hurts their own community?

Because the system is rigged for consumerism. Behavioral economics shows that people make decisions emotionally, not rationally. We're wired to fear losses more than we desire gains. So when local products cost more—even if they're better—we opt for cheap imports to avoid short-term “loss.”

Companies know this. That’s why they bury us in ads and credit offers. It’s not just business—it’s behavioral manipulation.

But It Doesn’t Have to Stay This Way

Here’s the good news: We can fight back.

Not with slogans. Not with handouts. But with strategy—real, grounded, measurable action.

Let’s break it down:

✅ 1. Rebuild Local Industry (With Strategy, Not Nostalgia)

Use game theory—a tool for cooperation among manufacturers—to stop the race to the bottom. If Hickory’s remaining furniture makers band together and agree to fair pricing, quality standards, and shared branding (e.g., “Made in Hickory – Supports 5 Local Jobs”), they can negotiate better deals with national retailers like Walmart.

Impact: Up to 1,000 new jobs and $10M in local sales growth.

✅ 2. Nudge Consumers to Buy Local

Behavioral nudges—like loyalty programs, patriotic branding, or emotional appeals—can shift spending patterns. People want to support their communities. But they need reminders that their purchases matter.

Action: Launch a local awareness campaign. Use social proof. Promote the long-term payoff: stronger schools, safer streets, better jobs.

Impact: A 10% local shift in furniture sales could create 500 new jobs.

✅ 3. Tariffs with a Purpose, Not Just a Punch

A 15% tariff on imported furniture (especially from China) could raise domestic demand. It’s not about isolation—it’s about fairness. The U.S. can’t win if it’s playing by different rules.

Yes, prices might go up. But so would paychecks. That’s the trade-off: a short-term hit for long-term gain.

Impact: 500 new manufacturing jobs in Hickory. But only if local factories are ready to meet demand.

✅ 4. Create a Culture of Saving

With national debt topping $35 trillion, and the dollar at risk of devaluation, families need financial protection. A citywide “Hickory Nest Egg” savings program—auto-enrolling residents to set aside $100/month—could build community wealth from the inside out.

Impact: $6 million/year in local savings. That’s stability you can feel.

✅ 5. Make Innovation the New Tradition

Modernize the furniture industry with tech. 3D printing. Sustainable materials. Customization software. Offer tax credits or matching grants to companies investing in innovation.

Impact: 200 high-skill jobs, and a competitive edge that Chinese imports can’t beat.

What’s Really at Stake

If nothing changes, Hickory and towns like it face a slow fade into irrelevance—drained by debt, dominated by imports, and defined by what we used to be.

But if we act? We can build something stronger than before. A community that remembers its past but isn’t chained to it. A place where work means something again—and where our children can stay, thrive, and be proud.

This is not about “going backwards.” It’s about moving forward with eyes wide open—and a backbone made of steel.

Globalization hurt us. But silence will finish the job.

So let’s stop pretending it didn’t happen.

Let’s talk about it.

Let’s act on it.

Let’s rebuild from the inside out.

The Hickory Hound | Foothills Corridor Series
This is part of an ongoing investigation into the economic and psychological impact of globalization on Western North Carolina. Comments welcome at HickoryHoundFeedback@Gmail.com

Sunday, April 13, 2025

Hickory, NC News & Views | Hickory Hound | April 13, 2025

The Foothills Corridor: A History of Loss, A Blueprint for Collective Power

For most of the 20th century, the Foothills region of western North Carolina was a place where people could build lives with their hands, their backs, and their pride. This 20-county stretch—bounded west of I-85, north of US-74, east of the Blue Ridge Parkway, and south of US-421—wasn't just defined by geography. It was shaped by purpose. These were towns powered by furniture factories, textile mills, tobacco warehouses, and tool manufacturers. People didn’t have to leave to make a living. In fact, they didn’t want to.

What Happened to This Region

By the 1980s and 90s, the forces of globalization, automation, and free trade policy began unraveling what had taken generations to build. NAFTA accelerated outsourcing. Whole factories disappeared—sometimes literally, crated up and shipped overseas. Tax bases crumbled. Young people began leaving. Communities that once thrived on local capital were gutted by corporate consolidation and policy decisions made far from the region’s hills and valleys.

Culturally, identity was tied to labor and place. When the jobs disappeared, so did a sense of belonging. Churches, ballfields, civic halls—once filled with industrial rhythm and intergenerational pride—lost their anchors. Politically, the region was increasingly sidelined. Urban centers in Raleigh and Charlotte attracted attention, funding, and influence. Rural voices—diverse, skilled, and deeply rooted—were treated as fringe, not foundational.

What Happened to the People

The people of the Foothills didn’t become lazy or backward. They became survivors. They stitched together part-time jobs, helped raise each other’s kids, and watched as Main Streets turned into ghost strips. Some went into healthcare. Others into warehousing or construction. Many left. The ones who stayed carried the weight of loss—economic, cultural, and emotional. Addiction rose. So did despair. But so did a quiet, persistent hope. A stubbornness not to disappear.

The people of the Foothills didn’t fail. They were failed—by systems that capitalized on their labor and then erased them from policy, media, and memory.

Why a Partnership Must Be Formed

To reverse this decades-long slide, a new kind of power must be built—not from the top down, but from the ground up. A formal partnership among the counties, cities, towns, and communities within the Foothills Corridor would not be about branding or politics. It would be about survival, leverage, and momentum.

No single town, no matter how creative or well-led, can outmuscle the forces that shape federal and state investment alone. But together, these communities can:

Align on regional grant priorities and stop competing for the same limited funds
Share procurement systems that save money and increase access
Create talent pipelines that connect education to actual jobs across counties
Build a unified platform that speaks with one voice to Raleigh and Washington

How Smaller Communities Can Compete

The towns of Taylorsville, Valdese, Drexel, or Sparta will never match Charlotte, Winston-Salem, or Asheville in raw population or national visibility. But they can compete in other ways:

Agility: Small towns can pilot new ideas faster—whether it’s trail development, co-op grocery stores, or remote work hubs
Authenticity: Tourists and talent are drawn to real places with real character
Cost Advantage: Housing, commercial space, and land are more accessible
Community Trust: Small towns can mobilize volunteers and partnerships more efficiently

By focusing on identity-driven development and tactical partnerships, these smaller communities can carve out distinctive, resilient niches that attract investment and talent on their own terms.

How Smaller Communities Can Partner with Larger Cities in the Corridor

Rather than operate in silos, the smaller and larger communities in the Foothills Corridor must coordinate to amplify their combined strengths:

Larger cities (like Hickory and Gastonia) can serve as administrative anchors for regional projects and initiatives
Smaller towns can serve as testbeds for policy innovation or unique lifestyle offerings
Together, they can build workforce pipelines that allow residents to move fluidly between educational programs, job centers, and entrepreneurial opportunities
Tourism strategies can link urban centers to rural escapes—trail towns, heritage districts, and agritourism routes

This is not a hierarchy—it’s a network. The region will thrive when it acts like an ecosystem, not a chain of competitors.

How the Foothills Corridor Can Get Raleigh and Washington to Listen

Power in American politics is organized, not granted. If the Foothills Corridor wants to be seen and respected, it must act like a region with intention—not a group of struggling towns with separate agendas.

To get Raleigh and Washington to pay attention, the region must:

Speak with one voice: Whether it’s education, broadband, or health equity—there must be a shared legislative platform and lobbying plan.
Track and publish data: Policymakers respond to dashboards, not anecdotes. The region needs a living scorecard with real metrics.
Tell its own story: Launch a media and narrative campaign that frames the Corridor as an asset, not a charity case.
Organize for funding: Regional grant writers, rotating convenings, and co-sponsored applications will signal capacity and seriousness.
Leverage strategic allies: Partner with universities, foundations, and think tanks to amplify the Corridor’s needs and strengths.

The Purpose Is Clear

The purpose of this partnership is not to create a new bureaucracy. It’s to reclaim dignity, power, and future-building capacity in a region that has given far more than it’s received. The Foothills Corridor is not asking for handouts. It’s building leverage.

This partnership is the next chapter in a long story of grit, grief, and rebirth. It is the foundation for a future that doesn’t just preserve what was—but builds what could be.

And that’s the essence of reinvention: not a return to old glory, but the creation of new strength, written in the voice of those who stayed.

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

For 25 years, the Catawba River has quietly powered Charlotte’s explosive growth—fueling server farms, sprawling suburbs, and booming tech hubs. But the cost has fallen on Catawba County and surrounding foothill communities. With server farms consuming millions of gallons a day and Charlotte requesting even more through Interbasin Transfers, the river basin is reaching a breaking point. Local needs—like agriculture, drinking water, and environmental balance—are being sidelined. This is more than a water issue. It’s a warning. Without accountability and fair resource management, rural communities will continue to bear the burden of urban expansion they never signed up for.

Hickory, NC: Economic Transformation (2011-2025)

In 2011, Hickory stood at a crossroads—its furniture and textile legacy fading fast. Fourteen years later, the city has retooled its economy with fiber optics, data centers, and workforce training through CVCC. Microsoft, Apple, and Corning now anchor the area’s job market. Housing has stabilized, public spaces improved, and Hickory ranks among the best places to live in North Carolina. While cultural diversity and leadership remain mixed bags, the overall trajectory is forward. Hickory hasn’t reinvented itself overnight—but it has steadily turned decline into progress, proving that resilience is less about reinvention and more about refusing to stand still.

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Shell Cooperative Notes:

“If you want to follow my work, you can find me on the Hickory Hound blog and the Hickory Hound YouTube channel.

Follow me on X at @Hickory Hound. Like I told you last week, when all of the censorship was going on and the lawfare and such, I kept getting these 24 hour bans and worse, so I dropped the Twitter Channel and lost all of my connections there. So if you are on X formerly Twitter, please give me a follow. I don't see a lot of private Hickory groups on there and this is a great place to build a brand.

I am still moving towards a Patreon platform to release old and new deep dive and special material, and I’ll let you know the details as they come around.

Feel free to shoot me an email anytime at HickoryHoundFeedback@gmail.com—I do read what comes in. And if you stop by YouTube, please like and subscribe—it really does help more folks see what we’re talking about here.

The Paperback cookbook “A Book of Seasons” is available on Amazon for $21.95. Just go to Amazon and type in "A Book of Seasons" Cookbook and my name and it will come up. The Link is provided in the text based version on the Hickory Hound Blog. The Next cookbook is done and will be released in early May.

A Book of Seasons: A Culinary Compendium of Flavor