This water-birthed mountain town hosted some of the country’s wealthiest socialites before being washed away in a record-breaking but murkily documented flood, more than 100 years ago.
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Present-day Lake Toxaway is beautiful in the fall.
Exactly what happened on August 13, 1916, in Lake Toxaway, North Carolina, is still unclear. Some say that after days of driving rain, the lake’s dam exploded, letting loose a torrent so fantastically ferocious that its roar could be heard from miles away. Others say the reservoir’s five billion gallons of cold mountain water was released more slowly, over several days.
John L. Nichols, III, a board member with the Historic Toxaway Foundation, isn’t sure which narrative is closest to reality. “We’re trying to find an original account of the dam breaking,” he says, “but everyone has a different story.”
However, Nichols knows one thing to be true: When Lake Toxaway went dry, the surrounding community dried up, too. What was once described as “America’s Switzerland”—a place where Vanderbilts and Rockefellers spent crisp mornings boating and languid evenings dining on highbrow fare—disappeared in a flash.
“Everybody got on the trains and left,” says Nichols. They knew, as the Greensboro Daily News so keenly predicted just three days after the emptying, that “Toxaway without the big lake will not be Toxaway.” And so, it became a ghost town.
Thanks to Nichols’ grandfather, a South Carolina real estate developer by the name of Reginald Heinitsh, the reservoir and eponymous town were revived from the dead some 60 years ago. In the decades since, Lake Toxaway has reclaimed its position as a high-elevation refuge. But the history of Lake Toxaway’s heyday—the glorious era before the flood—continues to haunt its shores.
Pioneering a Vision
Courtesy of the Rowell Bosse North Carolina Room, Transylvania County Library
Many Lake Toxaway visitors arrived in private Pullman cars.
The story begins in 1890 when Pennsylvania industrialist J. Francis Hayes sojourned in western North Carolina. As his associate later wrote in a 1921 obituary, “Mr. Hayes was a very sick man, in search of health.” The mountain air did such wonders that he decided to stay.
He had other motivations, too. The hills, he saw, were alive with virgin timber. Affluent families from further south were also traveling to the mountains in droves, desperate for some cool reprieve, and he recognized an opportunity to grow the nascent tourism industry.
Courtesy of the Library of Congress
Lake Toxaway was calm before the flood of 1916.
Eager to cash in, Hayes recruited a group of stakeholders and established the Toxaway Company in 1895. (The word “Toxaway” is the anglicized version of the Cherokee phrase “ta ha wey,” meaning “land of the red bird.”)
In the ensuing years, the company purchased thousands of acres of land and began building a series of resorts along railway lines across the region. They also acquired the bankrupt Hendersonville and Brevard Railway, Telegraph and Telephone Company (later renamed the Transylvania Railroad Company) at auction in 1897.
As general manager of the rail line, Hayes extended the tracks to accommodate the company’s biggest undertaking yet: Lake Toxaway. As noted in a 1902 edition of the Asheville Citizen, the project included “the building of a large hotel and the making of an immense lake.” The story goes on to say that “one million and a half dollars are to be spent on these improvements, and when complete the place will be superb.”
Exuding Exclusivity and Elegance
Courtesy of John Nichols III
The Toxaway Inn (colorized) was built in 1903 and hosted socialites from around the world.
And that it was. In July of 1903, the 500-foot-wide and 60-foot-tall earthen dam was completed. The resulting lake was one mile wide and three miles long. Construction on the Toxaway Inn, a five-story hotel, was completed not long after.
According to Rebecca Suddeth, executive director of the Transylvania Heritage Museum, the inn boasted everything from flushing toilets to French chefs. These amenities attracted a high-end clientele.
“The guest register boasts the names of early century greats like Thomas Edison, J.P. Morgan, Cornelius Vanderbilt, Henry Ford, Harvey Firestone, John Burroughs, the Dukes, the Wanamakers and R.J. Reynolds,” says Suddeth.
Courtesy of the Rowell Bosse North Carolina Room, Transylvania County Library
The old caretaker’s cottage.
During their time at the inn, visitors had plenty to do, from sailing regattas and hiking expeditions to bowling parties and boozy ballroom dances. (Despite Transylvania County being dry, the Toxaway Company managed to serve liquor anyway.) The atmosphere was convivial but quite exclusive.
“The inn would not have been a social place for the locals,” confirms Laura Sperry, a local history librarian with the Transylvania County Library. “To put it into perspective, hotel rates were about $10 nightly; a teacher’s salary in Transylvania County at that time was about $40 per month.”
Many prosperous patrons even arrived by private Pullman car—the same way “that a jet-setter might take their private plane to travel,” says Sperry.
Transforming the Mountain Economy
It’s possible that the glaring socioeconomic divide between natives and visitors created a culture of haves and have-nots. But if this was the case, there is little evidence of it today. Newspaper articles make subtle jabs, referring to the area as “a rich man’s playground,” but there is no explicitly negative language.
Courtesy of the Rowell Bosse North Carolina Room, Transylvania County Library
The Toxaway Inn Depot.
“I am sure some [locals] were unhappy about it, but from what I’ve heard and been told, most people in the area were glad to see it come,” says Suddeth.
The inn needed housekeepers, bellhops, front desk clerks, waiters and maintenance technicians, and natives needed jobs. Plus, Suddeth adds, the “hotel required supplies that could be bought from local people.”
The activity in Lake Toxaway also positioned Transylvania County as a tourism destination, paving the way for what has since grown into a nearly $200 million-a-year industry, according to the most recent report published by the Transylvania County Tourism Development Authority.
Suddeth believes Lake Toxaway also gave rise to the county’s summer camp industry, which today has an estimated annual economic impact of $126 million, according to a study released in 2020 by N.C. State University.
To put it succinctly, “[Lake Toxaway] put the county on the map,” says Suddeth.
Of course, many things changed in 1916.
Washing Away an Era
Courtesy of the Library of Congress
The Toxaway Inn was five stories tall.
People had long speculated that the dam might break. In 1903, for instance, The News and Observer announced that James L. Orr, president of the Piedmont Company in Greenville, had “carefully examined” the earthen embankment, after which he determined the structure “insecure.” He went on to say that “if water should rise above the surface of the dam, it would be washed away in two hours.”
The Asheville Citizen soon clapped back with a detailed editorial that concluded with: “The heaviest rains of the season have not raised the water in the spillway more than four inches. Thus, it may be seen that all cause for alarm … is entirely eliminated.”
There was, in fact, cause for alarm.
In July of 1916, a Category 3 hurricane slammed the Gulf Coast and then headed straight for the hills of western North Carolina. A week later, a Category 2 hurricane dumped even more rain, causing catastrophic flooding across the region. The folks up in Lake Toxaway waited with bated breath. But the dam held strong.
Courtesy of John Nichols III
The boathouse on Lake Toxaway was an important water feature at the old inn.
Then, in August, a third hurricane came. More than 20 inches of precipitation fell in less than 24 hours. Once again, everyone in Lake Toxaway anticipated the dam to blow. Still, it held strong.
The following morning, all signs of bad weather vanished. “The sky was crystal clear,” says Nichols. “It was just gorgeous.”
And so, guests headed to the water. They splashed and played. They laughed and gossiped. It was a wonderful day in Lake Toxaway. But then, at around noon according to The Daily Free-Press, “an alarming volume of water was noticed to be sweeping through the masonry” of the dam.
Again, what happened next isn’t quite clear. Some reports say all five billion gallons of water crashed down Toxaway Falls and on toward South Carolina all at once, uprooting trees and moving house-sized boulders in its wake. Other reports are more anticlimactic.
Either way, the emptying of the lake caused significant damage. Though there were no casualties save for a blind mule, houses were destroyed and crops were washed away. Community mills were ruined, too.
Luckily, the Toxaway Inn survived the disaster. However, no well-to-do family wanted to vacation on the shores of what the Asheville Citizen described as a pit filled with “black, oozy, sticky mud.” This, combined with innumerable lawsuits filed by property owners seeking compensation, put an end to the golden age of Lake Toxaway.
Preserving the Past
Courtesy of John Nichols III
Inn caretakers in the early 1900s lived in this building.
In the ensuing years, several investors made unsuccessful attempts at reviving the Toxaway Inn, but it was eventually razed in 1946.
More than a decade later, in 1960, Nichols’ grandfather partnered with D.W. Boyd to form Lake Toxaway Estates, Inc. The company constructed a dam with a solid granite spillway and filled the lake. They then built 40 miles of roads and created a residential development.
Today, Lake Toxaway is a thriving community. According to Nichols, many of the area’s property owners share their time between Lake Toxaway and places like Texas and Florida, coming to the mountains for spring break, summer vacations and other special occasions. But there is an increasing number of full-time residents thanks to high-speed internet and the urban exodus fueled by COVID-19.
Courtesy of John Nichols III
The dining room was as well-appointed as the rest of the inn.
When most newcomers roll into town, they don’t know much about the history of Lake Toxaway. They definitely don’t assume that this place was once a ghost town. But Nichols is working to preserve the past through his efforts with the Historic Toxaway Foundation. His restaurant, the Grand Olde Station, plays a role, too.
Nestled in what was once a railroad station, the eatery serves mouthwatering burgers alongside a hearty dose of history.
“It’s really a museum in a sense,” Nichols says, rattling off a long list of artifacts he has collected over the years. There’s everything from old photographs of the Toxaway Inn to an original 1940s American LaFrance fire truck that once served the area.
Besides being cool to ogle, these relics serve as reminders of the birth, death and rebirth of Lake Toxaway.
“The entire community wants to see the history of this place preserved,” Nichols says. “We all want to tell a story about our past.”
The story above first appeared in our July / August 2024 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!