The Salvage Station - It wasn't supposed to end this way...

Hurricane Helene Aftermath: My final farewell to the Salvage Station...

Or, is it?

I've been wanting to write this blog piece for a few weeks now, but it's been difficult to find the words. So, today, I'm finding them... I think. I hope you read on to the end, as I tell my own "Hurricane Helene" story, and finish it with a couple of ways that you can help those in need. Here goes...

When I woke up on the morning of Friday, September 27th, after another night of torrential rain, and now no electricity to my home, little did I know how devastating "tropical storm" Helene's destructive force was in Western North Carolina and beyond. I was in my own quiet little bubble, albeit, scrambling to get my generator humming.

Sure, I knew that we had been hammered with precipitation for three or four straight days and nights (measuring upwards of 30" on my rain gauge!!!), and that flash flooding and strong winds would certainly be a problem, but when I awoke that morning to an eerie calm and a brief flare of sunshine (but no electricity or immediate means to make my morning coffee), I could not have imagined in my wildest nightmares what had happened to the region that I have called home for over 13 years.

By now, we all know of the "1000-year flood" levels of local rivers and streams, and the tens of thousands of trees that were down and, of course, the total destruction of homes, businesses, and lives caused by Helene, but for the initial few days in the immediate aftermath, having no power, no phone signal, and no internet, like thousands of others I was cut off from the rest of the world. 

All I had was an FM radio, tuned in to the local iHeart station, and as reports started to come in, a picture was being painted of the horrendous damage, particularly in Asheville and northeast of the city (but, also, anywhere downstream in the French Broad River basin, particularly the towns of Marshall and Hot Springs, NC).

As days went by, and I regained access to electricity and to communications, those "pictures" that were being painted on the radio took on visual reality, and it was mind-boggling. Western North Carolina, and parts of Tennessee and South Carolina (not to mention the Gulf Coast of Florida hundreds of miles to the south) had become what can only be described as a "war zone", and that might be an understatement. Entire towns in WNC were wiped out or under water suffering unimaginable damage. This included a good part of the Asheville River Arts District (RAD), which lies along the French Broad River, a mile or two from the (elevated) Downtown Asheville area.

The studio that I once had in the RAD over ten years ago was under water during the flooding. I'm not sure who is in the space now (or, make that "was"), but had I still been there, I would have lost everything. My heart goes out to the artist that is (was) now in the space, along with many other artists who lost it all from the unforgiving flood waters.

And, it wasn't just the artist studios that took a direct hit from the wrath of Helene. It was homes, restaurants, cafes, small businesses, roads and bridges and, sadly, Asheville's premier music venue, The Salvage Station -- a place that I called "home" as the house photographer since 2017. 

Being directly on the French Broad River, it was always a risk in the backs of everyone's mind that this beloved music venue could see some flood water if things ever got to biblical levels. But, I don't think that anyone, even Noah himself, ever thought that the water could get so high that it would not only cover the outdoor grounds, but it would leave the indoor "room" in five or six feet of muddy, toxic water and sludge. 

Through my communications with the Salvage Station owners, I knew that there was irreparable damage to the site, and part of me wanted to see it for myself, but it took me nearly three weeks after waking up on that fateful late-September morning to muster up the energy to witness first-hand what the storm had done to the venue and surrounding area.

So, on Wednesday, October 16th, I arranged to meet a couple of the venue managers there to have a walk around, Nikon D800 in hand, PPE mask on to protect myself from toxic fumes (though by then things were relatively dry, and of lower risk than the early days in the immediate aftermath of the storm).

I arrived before the others, after driving through the rest of the RAD, in total disbelief of what I was seeing. Entire buildings in the RAD were gone. I sat there in my car at the Salvage Station parking lot gate, waiting for the others, tears in my eyes. This was bad. Real, real bad. 

And, it got even worse once I was able to walk around the site, seeing what would prove to be an early demise to the reign of the flagship component of the vibrant Asheville music scene -- "early", as the venue was due to close at the end of the year due to the eminent domain land-claim by the state of NC to make way for a new stretch of highway known as "The I-26 Connector".

The big stage frame was beat up and battered (but, not as bad as expected -- see lead photo; but the stage platform was, indeed, a mangled mess); shipping containers used for storage were on their sides, as were vehicles; other containers that served as bars were shifted to other areas of the site; the VIP area was no longer there; about two dozen large propane tanks from the Southern States Energy business next door littered the grounds. The site was unrecognizable, for the most part (see photos below for more details).

Then, I went inside to see the indoor stage room.

Holy shit.

I think this photo says it all (note the water level mark on the merch tee shirts in the background):

It wasn't supposed to end this way.

Everyone knew that the New Year's Eve show with the Kitchen Dwellers would be the final good-bye to the Salvage Station -- at least this chapter, at this location, anyway -- but that was to be three full months away from when Helene's ravage abruptly altered the plan. Unbeknownst to any of us at the California Honeydrops show just five days before Helene decided to maintain her strength 300 miles inland from the Gulf of Mexico, that would be our last hurrah together, three months too soon.

There was supposed to be two nights of JRAD, and two nights of Leftover Salmon, and a Halloween bash with Here Come The Mummies, followed by a final visit from Greensky Bluegrass, with many other shows, both indoor and out, woven in between.

None of us -- staff, contractors (like me), vendors, media, performing artists, or fans, got to bid a proper farewell to our beloved Salvage Station.

We never had the chance to swap nostalgic stories in the wee hours of January 1, 2025, after a night of joyous celebration with optimism for new beginnings in the coming year.

We never had our "last hugs" as the Salvage Station family members parted ways after those stories were told, drinks were emptied, and Ubers awaited.

I never got my last laughs with my good friends who graciously worked the security detail (special shout out to photo pit watchmen, brothers Ryan and Austin, who I have known for many years now, and Travis and Doyle who helped keep things safe but on the lighter side), or enjoyed my final serving of delicious chicken wings and brisket on the French Broad, served up by my good friends, Shane and Dusty (Mountain View BBQ food truck).

And, then there are the venue owners, Katie and Danny, and managers, James and Wayne, my favorite bar staff, Kayla and Megan (aka "Heather"), Alicia, and the Boydman, and many more, and the entire production team -- too many people to name, but I'll give a special shout-out to Jason G and Josh A who were instrumental in making my job a real pleasure every single time I was on site over the past few years.

Sadly, we never got to sing along to sound-engineer extraordinaire Scarekrow's final broadcast of "Get the fuck out!".

And, selfishly, I never got to take my last photograph from the photo pit, lit up by my main man, and maestro on the stage lighting board, Jamie Hester.

Tragically, my last photos of the Salvage Station are what you see in this DSP blog post. Heartbreaking.

So, where do we go from here?

Though we're all still feeling a bit lost right now, is there hope that, as originally anticipated, the Salvage Station would find a new home in 2025, and we can pick up where we left off along the banks of the usually-calm French Broad River?

I wish I knew the answer to that. But, only time will tell what happens. I do know that with so much of the gear and venue infrastructure being destroyed or lost in the flood waters, it will be a much steeper hill to climb to regain the glory that once entertained tens or hundreds of thousands of rabid music fans since 2016.

Of equal importance, the loss of the Salvage Station means that many people have lost their main source of income, as the Salvage Station employed quite a few wonderful staff year-round.

For now, there are a couple of things that you can do to help support these folks, with hopes of bridging the gap between Helene and their next chapter, whatever that may be. No matter where you are in the country, or in the world for that matter, you can contribute to a GoFundMe campaign that has been set up to support the venue staff in these challenging times. For information, and to donate click here:

Support Salvage Station Crew After Hurricane Helene

If you are local to Western NC, or are in town this coming weekend, the Asheville Music Hall in Downtown Asheville is hosting a special fund-raiser event on Sunday, November 17th (2024). Of course, there will be live music! Show starts at 7:00pm (Doors at 6:00pm). Donations will be accepted to further assist in raising funds for Salvage Station staff.

Apart from that, just have faith that WNC will stay strong, and we will rebuild. The Asheville / WNC music scene will not be the same without "a" Salvage Station, so I hope that we all do everything we can to bring it back -- but take the live music experience to an even higher level, if that is possible.

Again, if you want to help via the GoFundMe campaign:

DONATE HERE

To end my ramblings on a positive note...

There's an old saying often attributed to Theodor Seuss Geisel, aka "Dr. Seuss", that says...

"Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened."

Though the tone of this DSP blog post is rather somber, I don't want to lose sight of the fact how lucky we all have been to have a place like the Salvage Station in our lives over the past seven or eight years. Yes, for me personally it has brought an enjoyable source of creative employment for my music photography. I am indebted to Danny and Katie for having such unwavering trust in my talent, and in my efforts to contribute to the publicity and success of the venue.

But, the value of this special place has been far greater than a paycheck and some fancy photos. If you haven't noticed, I like to use the word "family" when referring everyone who has contributed to making this venue one of the best in the country. The material elements of the Salvage Station may be gone, but the memories created, and the friendships formed, come hell or high water, will last forever. And, for that I am forever grateful.

On behalf of the Salvage Station family, thank you for your support, and for all of the fond memories.

Much love, y'all.

See you in 2025?