On Wednesday, Mayor Carol Pritchett told the room that all the "duplicitous, negative" chatter about Town Hall on Facebook doesn't help Lake Lure attract visitors. "If you think that helps," she said, "you're absolutely wrong about that. You are wrong."

This is a companion piece to our news coverage of that meeting, Packed House, No Answers, and the fuller account in Before the Public Spoke, the Town Did. Every document behind this story is indexed at our running source list.

Two things can be true at once. Message-board bickering is genuinely bad for a tourist town's brand, and also: that is not what is happening here.

The math the mayor isn't doing

What's happening here is that a hurricane relief hub that fed 750 people a day when the roads were gone got a three-day eviction letter over a rent dispute the Town's own paperwork can't keep straight. What's happening is that the Town Manager told Paul Brock in writing that FEMA required the police boathouse demolished, and 48 hours later the Town's own Community Development Director told him, also in writing, that it didn't. What's happening is that the Town hasn't published a single set of council minutes since July 27 — which means the public record of how a lease got terminated is not currently a public record. What's happening is that the mayor stood at a podium the Monday before this meeting, was asked directly what the Town intends to do with the building it's fighting so hard to empty, and answered, on the record, that the Town has no intent for it at all, hours after the Town had filed to evict the tenant from it.

None of that happened on Facebook. Facebook just has a screenshot function.

What light actually does

The mayor's comments suggest a metaphor of light and dark. Let's use it. The mayor's argument, as we read it, is that Lake Lure looks bad because people keep shining a light on it — so the fix is to dim the light, hand out fewer flashlights, ask everybody to please stop pointing them at the boathouse. But that's backwards, and any dental hygienist could tell her why: you don't get a cavity because the light in the exam chair is too bright. The light just tells you it's there. Turn it off and the tooth doesn't heal. It just goes on quietly rotting somewhere you can't see it anymore, which is precisely how a $4,000-a-month lease dispute over a boat shed turns into a lawsuit, a sued town, a packed hearing room, and a mayor asking her constituents to change their tone.

The brighter the light, the darker the shadows look by comparison. That's not a flaw in the light. That's the whole point of it.

And if the Town genuinely believes the story reads badly — badly enough to threaten tourism, badly enough to warrant public criticism of its own residents — it has a remedy sitting right there, unused, gathering dust like the boathouse itself: it could turn the lights on and let people see what's actually happening. Publish the minutes. Put the termination decision to an actual recorded council vote, since as of this writing nobody can find evidence one ever happened — not the lawsuit, not the correspondence, not the termination letter itself, none of it mentions a vote. Answer Second Mountain's records request from March, the one that's been sitting unanswered since before spring turned into summer. Say, on the record, in a sentence that survives contact with a follow-up question, why an empty building is worth losing the town's most popular business over.

What a visitor actually sees driving in

Try that last part as an exercise, because it's not hypothetical. Drive into Lake Lure the way an actual visitor does — no history with any of this, just a family looking for a weekend on the water. By this reporter's own count, four of the twelve storefronts along that beach strip are sitting empty right now. That's a third of the block dark before anyone touches the town's most popular tenant.

Keep driving and the rest of the tour doesn't help the mayor's case. There's a police boathouse so run-down the Town can't even agree internally on whether it needs to be condemned or leased out — that building is, remember, the center of this fight. And if this eviction lands the way the Town's own filings suggest it's meant to, there will be one more dark window where a line used to form for barbecue and live music on a Tuesday night — the one unmistakably alive thing on that whole stretch. That's the actual tourism problem. Not a Facebook thread. A beachfront already a third empty, about to lose one of its liveliest draws.

If the answer to why that's worth it is a good one, it'll hold up in daylight. If it won't hold up in daylight, that's useful information too — just not for the reason the mayor thinks.

The generator story, and two statements the record doesn't support

Instead we got the generator story. At the same meeting where residents thanked Lured Market for running a logistics hub that fed National Guard troops and FEMA crews for weeks without charging anybody a dime, the mayor offered her own Helene tale: she and her Firefly Cove neighbors shared a generator and her Starlink dish. That is a lovely, neighborly thing to do, and it is not the same order of event. Offering it as an equivalent, in the same breath as criticizing residents' "negative" social media posts, undersold what the Market did.

Two statements by Town officials don't match the public record, and both bear on why residents are skeptical. At a public panel of about 250 people, Mayor Pritchett said more than once that Lake Lure suffered "no loss of life" from Helene. State autopsy records document the death of a Chimney Rock resident whose body was recovered from this lake days after the storm. And at the August 24 meeting, Mayor Pro Tem David DiOrio said the Rocky Broad watershed had zero Helene fatalities, which the public record also disputes. Both are checkable, and the sources are listed below.

So when the mayor says the acrimony "doesn't help our community," here's the part she's skipping: the acrimony isn't the injury. It's the bruise showing up after the injury. You don't treat a bruise by telling people to stop looking at your arm.

Turn the lights on

Nobody organizing on Facebook wants Lake Lure to look bad. That's actually the opposite of what's happening, whatever it looks like from the dais. A town that fed itself through a hurricane, that produced a business popular enough to fill a meeting room past capacity with people begging their government to just take the rent check already, is not a town with an image problem caused by its own residents. It's a town with a transparency problem caused by the officials currently asking those residents to tone it down. Not everyone in Lake Lure has the same stake in this, and that's fine. Some of us care about the boathouse, some about the neighbors who fed us after Helene, some about the Town's finances. But everyone is owed the same answer to one plain question: was there a council vote to terminate this lease, and if so, when? As of this writing, none has been published.

The Brocks held up a check in front of the whole town and got a shrug and a reference to procedure. That's not going to trend well no matter which platform it's on. If the goal really is protecting how Lake Lure looks to the outside world, here's a free idea, no consultant fee required: be the kind of government that looks fine in the light. It's a lot cheaper than asking everybody else to turn theirs off.

What we're not saying

We're not asserting the mayor's "negative" comment was aimed at any specific person or post — she didn't name one, and neither do we. We're not asserting bad faith behind the Town's silence on a council vote; it's possible one happened somewhere this outlet hasn't found, and if the Town can point to it, we'll correct this piece. The vacancy count above is this reporter's own tally from a drive down the beach strip, not a Town-published figure, and storefronts change hands; readers are welcome to count for themselves. Everything else attributed to a specific document, statement, or news outlet is sourced below.

Sourcing Note

The FEMA/boathouse-demolition timeline — Town Manager Olivia Stewman's December 2025 and February 3, 2026 statements to Paul Brock, contradicted two days later by Community Development Director Mike Williams — is drawn from Second Mountain's June 1, 2026 complaint and its exhibits, previously detailed in our reporting at Inside the Fight Over Lake Lure's Best-Known Business. The absence of published council minutes since July 27, 2026 and the absence of any documented council vote on the termination decision are drawn from this outlet's own review of the Town's published minutes and the full documentary record, as previously reported. Mayor Pritchett's on-the-record statement that "the town has no intent for the use of that building," made at the August 24, 2026 special meeting, is confirmed by this reporter's own attendance. The generator/Starlink remarks and the "same vested interest" and "duplicitous, negative" quotes are from this reporter's own attendance at Wednesday's meeting. Mayor Pritchett's "no loss of life" statements and the death of a Chimney Rock resident, documented in state autopsy records, and Mayor Pro Tem David DiOrio's August 24 statement about the Rocky Broad watershed, are previously reported facts compiled in this outlet's background research on Town officials. The Town of Lake Lure has not been reached for comment on this specific column; as with our news coverage, we will update it if the Town responds.

Last updated: 2026-09-21