The rain came first, unforgiving in its force. Then the mud, slippery and coated before it begins to bake under the heat. The humidity only made the task of saving one of the greatest repositories of Appalachian history more difficult.
Appalshopa cultural and arts center and a cornerstone of Whitesburg, Ky., is underwater.
“It’s all-consuming,” Caroline Rubens, director of the Appalshop archive, said in a recent interview.
Now, one year after record flooding swept through southeastern Kentucky, killing more than three dozen people and displacing hundreds of others whose homes were washed away, Appalshop and its community write still the next chapter of its 54-year history.
Appalshop began as a film studio in 1969 but expanded its mission to include documenting and celebrating Appalachian culture through theater, music, photography and literary programs. Over the decades, it has amassed a rich archive that serves as a repository of central Appalachian history.
The organization has acquired more than 13,500 archival items since the flood, including videos, audio recordings, photographs and artwork documenting history and life in the Appalachian Mountains, thanks in large part to services provided by Iron Mountain, a company data management that preserves and protects cultural heritage assets.
Iron Mountain stores approximately 9,000 audiovisual items in underground facilities in Pennsylvania and New Jersey. Many of those items are being cleaned and digitized for an expanded online library. Additional items are spread across two other labs in New Jersey and Maryland, and Appalshop’s temporary space in Whitesburg.
Appalshop converted an RV into a new mobile studio for its radio station, giving its staff the flexibility to be on the scene of emergencies like the one they experienced in July.
And perhaps most importantly, the center has not stopped its community programming. Appalshop just finished its annual summer documentary institute and held a community gathering to commemorate the anniversary of the flood, including the premiere of a new documentary about the devastation, “All is Not Lost.”
But you don’t have to scratch too far beneath the surface to see the struggles Appalshop has navigated over the past year, or those ahead.
The structural stability of the Appalshop building is in question, and it would likely cost more than $5 million to restore or rebuild. The flood washed away the ground floor, which housed the theater, radio station, gallery space and climate-controlled vault, where photo negatives and other archival materials were stored.
“We’re going to take a negative, and there’s nothing there,” said Ms. Rubens. “Those are some of the biggest heartbreaks.”
The cassette tapes were taken out of their cases to dry. Home videos donated by local families were completely washed away in the flood. The color slides “look like a psychedelic, abstract image” when held up to light, Ms. Rubens.
said Ms. Rubens said he and his Appalshop colleagues remained “relatively optimistic,” though he estimated that about 15 to 20 percent of the collection might not be salvageable. As he manages the restoration work, he also talks to archivists in other organizations about the dangers of climate change when it comes to historic preservation.
“We were not prepared for what happened,” he said.
It’s a message that Iron Mountain, the data management company whose Living Legacy program helps Appalshop, is trying to convey.
“We talk a lot about how climate change will affect our future,” said Jennifer Grimaudo, the senior director of sustainability at Iron Mountain. “We don’t spend a lot of time talking about how this could be — or is, in the case of Appalshop — affecting our past.”
said Ms. Grimaudo said increasing bad weather, including hurricanes and wildfires, has threatened archives and efforts to preserve history.
“Once you lose those archives, you lose access,” he said. “These are the very accounts of people who are not around to share their story with us again.”
Much of Appalshop’s audio and visual materials have been recovered, including rare recordings of musical performances and interviews with Appalachian activists; a 1970s interview with leaders of the Eastern Band of Cherokee; and recordings, photos and film footage of Black leaders from across the region.
Alex Gibson, Appalshop’s executive director, said Iron Mountain’s donation of storage and services is a lifesaver.
“It mostly allows us time to recover and think about how we can afford the full restoration,” he said, noting that Appalshop staff members spent months applying for grants and finding other sources of funding for the recovery effort.
As it documented and celebrated Appalachian culture, Appalshop also countered narratives of what it means to be from Appalachia, Mr. Gibson said. Still, the flood highlighted economic inequality in the region, he said, and “the effects of any kind of trauma on poor people.”
“That’s hard and long work,” he said. “We all need to go to our neighbor and ask for a cup of sugar. Appalshop tries to facilitate sugar exchange.
One way to build those relationships is through community radio. Appalshop spent five months retrofitting an RV, dubbed the Possum Den, to serve as a new mobile studio for its station, WMMT. The station returned to the airwaves in April with live volunteer DJs spinning bluegrass, hip-hop, electronica and everything in between.
Through its website, the radio station reaches listeners as far away as Whitesburg. But its roots in Appalachia beckon for people far from home.
“It serves a very specific purpose that nothing else in the world can really serve, and that is to feel connected to people and traditions, and to hear people like you on the radio,” said Téa Wimer, the station manager. “That stuff is really special and important because listeners can’t hear it anywhere else.”
