Picture uncovered in the debris of building that now houses White Horse Black Mountain
By Andrew Patterson
In 2008, Zach Hinkle’s stepmother Kim Hughes had a vivid dream and asked her husband, Bob Hinkle, “What’s the symbolism of a white horse?” Later that day, they stepped into an abandoned Chevy dealership in Black Mountain—only to uncover a faded picture of white horses behind some debris. That same photo still hangs in White Horse Black Mountain (WHBM).
Today, with a new HVAC system whirring while we chat in the dark and dead quiet venue, it feels like peeking behind a curtain that almost never existed. A few months before Helene, a wise contractor told them to fix the roof first. The roof held against the storm. And so did the vision.
“White Horse was founded on a principle that music is an energy that can bring people together, connect them and create community,” Zach says. As a young musician in Asheville, his dad had been supported by club owners who saw his potential. WHBM was Bob’s way of paying that forward—offering a safe space to grow, experiment and belong.
Zach is the director of operations at WHBM—and its heartbeat. What began as a family legacy has become a nonprofit rooted in radical accessibility and cultural preservation. With deep ancestral ties to Black Mountain, he led the charge to co-found the Black Mountain Blues Festival to honor the region’s rich Black musical history and ensure future generations don’t just remember—they feel it.
The storm brought triple devastation. Zach’s home flooded first. Waist-high water surged while he was the only able-bodied person present, protecting three frail family members. They survived.
The devastation cemented WHBM’s purpose as a nonprofit. Zach refused to furlough staff. He couldn’t ask WHBM’s loyal membership for support—many were reeling themselves. Instead, he reached out far and wide for donations.
With strong ties to local nonprofits, Zach and the WHBM board voted to add immediate community relief to its mission. Musicians played on the patio. Beer was poured for first responders.
The inaugural Black Mountain Blues Festival in 2024 had prompted that crucial decision to fix the roof. Since the storm, the White Horse Community Fund has raised more than $225,000, distributing it to Bounty & Soul, Hammer & Heart, Black Mountain Counseling Center and Swannanoa Valley Christian Ministry. They continue to raise money, with a goal of $500,000 before year’s end.
This year’s festival returns on the storm’s anniversary, offering “relief” in every sense of the word. “Much like the blues music woven into NC’s roots, we found our strength and harmony in the heart of the community after Hurricane Helene,” says Justice Rogers, board chair of Black Mountain Blues Society (BMBS). “We’re all in the same soup line, but it’s that shared spirit—the ‘us’—that’s helped us rise, rebuilding not just homes, but our very best selves.”
White Horse is the financial partner of the BMBS, which is working with the town to host non-ticketed, fully accessible programming open to all. For ticketed events, 50 percent of net proceeds go directly to hurricane relief.
“How’s the music making you feel?” says Zach. “Sometimes that’s lyrics. Sometimes it’s melody. Sometimes it’s harmony. And sometimes it’s passion. The musician might not be an expert—but the passion draws you in. And it makes you feel.”
We’ll all feel something on September 27. The Black Mountain Blues Festival happening that weekend will be a reminder that, just like the way we rallied after the storm, we don’t have to go through the anniversary alone either. You have a community.
To get tickets, visit BlackMountainBlues.org. To connect or nominate somebody that Andrew should feature, reach out on ap@andrew365.com.
