Over the next several weeks Buncombe County Special Collections will share five different posts by former Special Collections (NC Room) Librarian Zoe Rhine. Since “retiring” in January 2020, Zoe has continued to follow her research interests; investigating the lives of African Americans in the late 19th century. Do you have research or stories about Asheville
Over the next several weeks Buncombe County Special Collections will share five different posts by former Special Collections (NC Room) Librarian Zoe Rhine. Since “retiring” in January 2020, Zoe has continued to follow her research interests; investigating the lives of African Americans in the late 19th century. Do you have research or stories about Asheville
Working in local history archives at UNCA Ramsey Library and at Pack Library’s North Carolina Room, I thought often about the many fascinating stories that remain hidden in the oral histories of both collections. Until the interview is transcribed, the story remains untold. Few people will have the time or the patience to listen to the
How often have you driven on Hendersonville Road and wondered what this or that site used to look like before twenty-first century development? Let’s look at one address: 866 Hendersonville Road. This is what you see today. 866 Hendersonville Road was originally owned by Frank Mears. In 1945 Reginald O. Dodd purchased the stone building.
A few months ago some questions arose about a couple photographs in the North Carolina Room’s Special Collection. They show a group of African-American masons erecting a wall up against a building with a large “Drink Pepsi-Cola” sign painted on it. Zoe asked me if I could confirm the details in the description. Here’s part
The Woodfin community, like many other Buncombe County communities is named for a man who enslaved human beings. If you’ve followed along in this series, you’ve probably recognized that to be a common theme among communities; they’re named for people of extravagant wealth. Wealth earned on the backs of enslaved black people. Indeed, our county
I remember “worst” Asheville. It’s the neighborhood where my Grandfather was born in a house with dirt floors, where I went to preschool (back when Crossroads Assembly was “West Asheville Assembly” located on Haywood Rd.), attended my first dance lessons (in the building where Asheville Greenworks is today), and went along with my mother to