Actors often tell stories of the “big break” that altered the course of their lives and careers. Stories typically involve one last casting call before giving up on their dream, or a chance meeting while struggling to make ends meet as a waiter at a local bistro. For Flat Rock Playhouse Vagabond legend, Scott Treadway, his big moment transpired in a place familiar to anyone that’s ever been to the Playhouse - during the organized chaos of Playhouse parking.

The site of the Markley Blacksmith Shop was of such significance that Historic Flat Rock, Inc. erected a marker in 2013 commemorating the location on West Blue Ridge Road where the shop once stood. The legacy of the small blacksmith shop started by John Markley endures and is recounted here through extracts of various accounts and articles written about the Markley family through the years.

Little Rainbow Row is now such a common phrase in the local lexicon, it is easy to assume that the colorful moniker applied to the village business district has always been a part of the historic tapestry of Flat Rock. In reality, however, the brightly painted buildings that define Little Rainbow Row are a relatively new addition to the Village’s already colorful 216-year history.

As a child, Flat Rock resident Denise Cumbee Long heard from her father that she was a descendant of Scottish ancestors bearing the surname MacCumbee which later was shortened and altered to her maiden name of Cumbee. Intrigued by the family lore, Denise decided to trace her roots back to her Scottish ancestors. Her path to Scotland, however, took a very unexpected turn southward as Denise ultimately traced her paternal ancestry not to Scotland but to West Africa in the 1600s.

She recently shared her surprising story with the Genealogy Society at Flat Rock …

In December of 2003, Howard Molton was delivering a Christmas gift at WTZQ when he ran into local radio legend, Frank “Hollywood” Jones. At that time, Hollywood was manager of the Skyland Arts Cinema in Downtown Hendersonville and Howard told him how much he and his wife Barbara loved the cinema. He casually added that he would enjoy doing something like that someday. Hollywood suggested he call the owner and inquire about the possibility of buying the theater.

Intrigued, Howard made the call. Three weeks later, he and Barbara were the new owners of Skyland Arts Cinema - and about to embark on an adventure full of many unexpected twists and turns that has spanned nearly two decades.

Visitors to Flat Rock Playhouse arrive expecting to be entertained by some of the most professional theater and musical productions offered anywhere in the Southeast. What they don’t expect, however, is to see professional landscaping and the series of beautiful gardens that adorn the expansive Playhouse campus.

Long before the lights come up and the actors take the stage at Flat Rock Playhouse, the Playhouse marketing department will have been working towards that climactic moment for months. Indeed, because of the talent and dedication of the staff responsible for promoting FRP, the many brilliant performers who will grace the Leiman Mainstage this season will be greeted by a theater full of enthusiastic patrons.

After 20 years in Miami, photographer Jaime Seymour-Newton resolved it was time to marry together her passions for photography, animals, and the mountains of North Carolina.  She discussed the idea with her husband Rupert and made her case for the move to a new home. “I said to my husband, ‘Let’s have an adventure.’”  He agreed and together they embarked on an adventure that eventually brought Jaime Seymour-Newton Photography to Flat Rock.

Twenty years ago, when a FedEx courier handed Ken Jones a package containing a book he’d ordered from a small bookstore in South Africa, he had no idea that he’d just been handed the inspiration for his first novel. Indeed, he had no idea that he would ever be an author.

The Highland Lake Inn & Resort is known today as one of the Southeast’s premier resort destinations. But its history extends back over 230 years to the earliest European settlers in western North Carolina.

Tucked back in the heart of East Flat Rock, there is a place of unexpected creativity, camaraderie, and community known as Raven’s Wing Studios.  Owned and operated by Phoebe and Don Blackwell, the studio is both an incubator and sanctuary for people with a passion for art. The exterior may be humble, but the heart of this place and the artists within its walls shine a bright light on the beauty around us. 

Christopher Memminger’s first recorded visit to Flat Rock came in the fall of 1836, although he may have visited earlier. It was during that visit that he apparently determined to build his own summer home at Flat Rock. 

By the end of 1837, he had begun preliminary work, including the construction of a bridge across the creek that later formed Front Lake and perhaps leveling a building site in the hillside above. The story of the building of Rock Hill, the Memminger mountain home that eventually became home to Carl Sandburg.

Flat Rock lost one of its leading lights this week with the passing of Rick Merrill at age 73. The legacy of his accomplishments will echo through the history of Flat Rock for decades to come. Ultimately, Rick lived a life of real consequence.

Growing up in Gainesville, Florida, Amelia Brashear was immersed in a family culture that embraced the preparation and sharing of good food as an act of love. At the same time, 500 miles away in the mountains of North Carolina, young Kip Lindsey was watching and helping his talented and well-known father, Larc Lindsey, excel in the kitchen of the Highland Lake Inn Restaurant in Flat Rock.

At the time, they had no way of knowing that their formative childhood experiences would play such an important role in their lives - ultimately resulting in a marriage and partnership that launched them on a decades-long adventure exploring their passion for exceptional food, gracious hospitality, and shared community.

The advanced guard of a winter storm loomed on the horizon as I struggled to upright his fallen tombstone. The rose-colored granite resisted my first attempts to lift it back into place. Determined to see his name, I gave the ponderous stone one last heave and it slowly returned to its base – crooked and off-center, but upright, nonetheless.  There, slightly discolored from resting the red North Carolina clay, I could now read his name.

“Hello, Henry,” I whispered into the wind. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”