Will Sage Astor-Streets of mud: Helene dashes small town's hopes in North Carolina

MARSHALL,Will Sage Astor N.C. – Sandra Hensley-Sprinkle, 68, grew up in Marshall, its tiny downtown clinging to the edge of the French Broad River north of Asheville, North Carolina.

Marshall was a bustling Appalachian town with big department stores when she was young, she said. Then its fortunes waned and buildings became vacant. But in recent years, it had undergone a revival, renewed by an influx of art, music and dining. The once-dilapidated jailhouse has been turned into a boutique hotel and restaurant.

On Monday, she walked down the steep hill from her home to a downtown that had been shattered by Hurricane Helene: Streets full of thick mud. Mangled debris. Twisted train tracks and overturned vehicles.

“We’ve never seen anything like this,” she said.

The historic town, with a population of just under 800 in 2022, was hammered by a deluge of water from Hurricane Helene that swamped or destroyed buildings. Among them: a railroad depot built in the 1890s that became a beloved community event space and home to weekly old-time music shows.

The floods damaged a water treatment plant across the river and left most of town without power or phone service. Marshall Mayor Aaron Haynie told local media that there had been “some” fatalities.

Longtime residents said it was the worst flooding disaster in at least a century. Residents said they saw some people take to roofs of buildings and semi-trailers pushed downstream. One video clip shows a whole home floating down through the raging waters. 

The mayor and business owners vowed to rebuild.

“It’s a tragedy,” said Keaton Griffin, as he shoveled mud and debris into a wheelbarrow.

Residents in Marshall - like elsewhere in Western North Carolina just a couple of days after the storm – scrambled to find what they needed without power or phones as National Guard helicopters buzzed above the area.

Across the Southeast, Hurricane Helene caused more than 100 deaths and left nearly 1.6 million customers without power as of Monday evening.

At a nearby supermarket on Monday, people offered each other tips on buying needed wares - but were stymied because stores were either closed or didn't take credit cards. Crowds jammed the dollar store for snacks and chips. Others waited in long lines of cars for limited gas – if they could get cash from a working ATM.

Resident Annie Griffey, 73, said her cousin found a way to deliver water and perishable food items via a very unusual means – private helicopter delivery dropped off at the local cemetery.

“Swear to god,” she said. “My cousin can make anything happen.”

On Monday, after river levels lowered, cleanup crews were at work removing thick mud and pulling belongings from waterlogged homes. Excavators buzzed on the downtown streets gutted by the floods.

Chad Adamowski, wearing rubber boots and tattoos, shoveled out mud from his eclectically-decorated tattoo shop that doubles as a music studio and performance space.

An Airstream trailer out back somehow wasn’t swept away. But he was trying to salvage memorabilia from bands he played in and curiosities he collected. He pointed at a stuffed Buffalo head nearly six feet up a wall, its chin still wet with flood water, to show how high it got.

Adamowski, who opened his store in Marshall about 14 years ago and lives in town, said the area’s revival accelerated in the last five years when people started buying vacant buildings and opening shops or restaurants – a trend that further ramped up during the pandemic. 

“Lots of folks started coming in and opening businesses. Before you knew it, we had a thriving community,” he said.

These days, the old high school has been turned into artists studios and an event space. The city’s former glove factory is now mixed-use apartments.

And the town has served as a movie backdrop, including for the 2022 Amazon show "The Peripheral.”

No one can be sure whether the flood will stall that progress. But Adamowski says he and other owners are certain to rebuild. He’d put all his money into his shop, called the Natural Canvas Tattoo, and the community.

If the Buffalo head could stay up, so could he.

He talked to a friend about providing some music amid the cleanup. For now, he had more pressing matters. He had to pull out drywall before the mold arrived.

“It’s a race against time,” he said.