Black lands, Mexican bands: how a southern rural family built a Latino cultural hub
Donal Gooch is not pleased about the trash on his arena floor. “Shit, it’s pitiful,” he says. Donal leans back against the stage of the
Donal Gooch is not pleased about the trash on his arena floor. “Shit, it’s pitiful,” he says. Donal leans back against the stage of the Gooch Sports Arena, the centerpiece of a family-held 12-acre plot in Eagle Rock, North Carolina, an unincorporated community at the fringes of the growing research triangle region. Also on the land are a house where Donal’s daughter, Caitlin, and three of her children live; a weathered barn; and a quarter-horse racetrack known as Eagle Rock Downs. But Donal only has eyes for the hundreds of empty Modelo cans, crushed plates and cracked cups strewn about the grounds, the detritus from the arena’s twice-a-month raucous concerts with touring bands from Mexico. “This is terrible,” Donal says, pondering the cleanup. “It means we didn’t make enough money.” If Donal’s not happy about paltry day-after-the-concert trash, it means the Gooch arena only sold 1,500 to 2,000 tickets. Trash as far as the eye can see could mean over 5,500 tickets sold, each typically starting north of $70. Bands come from Michoacán, Sinaloa, Chihuahua and other corners of Mexico. Jaripeos, or bull-riding festivals, sometimes appear on the schedule, as do carros tumbados (low-riders). Donal boasts that nearby gas stations sometimes sell out of fuel and food, hotels get more bookings and “everybody makes money off me” when ticket sales peak. Turning a dollar is front of mind for Donal, 69, who was raised on this land when eastern Wake county was tobacco country. Today, subdivisions are the dominant cash crop. Eagle Rock, 15 miles from Raleigh, is on the edges of one of the nation’s fastest-growing metropolitan areas, in its third fastest-growing state. The dual economic and population growth is concentrated around North Carolina’s health, finance and tech cores, turning its rural outskirts into suburbs. Much of the land surrounding the Gooch Arena, formerly woods and farms, has turned into warehouses, gas stations, medical centers and an under-construction subdivision. View image in fullscreen Donal Gooch leans against the stage at the events arena he founded in Eagle Rock, North Carolina. Photograph: Dare Coulter Caitlin, 33, came of age during this growth. She lived in a distinctly Black, rural and southern world, riding horseback over neighboring farms and woods, much of it owned by distant relatives. Donal and Caitlin refuse to turn their plot, acquired by the family in 1944, into cul-de-sacs. Caitlin focuses on passing down the horse-loving culture that formed her, virtually to her substantial online following, in-person to children through school visits and summer camps. Donal harnesses the recent boom in North Carolina’s Latino population, numbering 76,000 in 1990 and more than 1.1 million in 2020, to fill out the concert crowds. The land remains in family hands, but it’s becoming a cultural landmark for the Hispanic community, as it has long been for Eagle Rock’s historic Black one. Like father, like daughter? Caitlin squats in small dunes of sawdust, pulls out a pocket knife and slits the netting off of a hay bale. She finds peace under the barn roof and rode her first horse when she was three. The Gooch land has hosted their annual trail ride for decades, long before the rural horseback gatherings became Instead, she’s coaching the next generation on how to be participants, not spectators. She hosts a summer camp teaching the basics of equestrian care. Year-round, she guides children how to read with the assistance of her miniature horse, Man Man, for her non-profit Saddle Up and Read. She’s appeared on Good Morning America, in CNN, the Washington Post and Vogue, and accumulated tens of thousands of followers across social media. None of this has brought her financial security. When the farm floods or the Saddle Up and Read truck breaks down, Caitlin often crowdfunds to cover the damage. She still landscapes on the side and used to drive for Uber until gas prices negated the profits.
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