ELMORE, Vt.  — As general stores in small towns across the country become victims to ever-expanding chain stores and supermarkets, some communities are successfully fighting back to save their beloved rural fixtures through new community funding efforts.

First opened in the early 1800s, the Elmore Store in Elmore, Vermont, has been a fixture of this town tucked next to a lake. It has all the usual staples and also serves as the post office. In this northern Vermont community without cell service, the Elmore Store has been a hub of communication and commerce for two centuries.

But back in 2019, the longtime owners put it up for sale. This tight-knit community worried that this place would be shuttered, like so many other small town stores in America. So, the town of Elmore, home to just 800 people, decided to do something.

"Everybody in town was worried about what would happen to the store," said Trevor Braun, a life-long Elmore resident.

Braun now sits on the board for the Elmore Community Trust a group formed to save the Elmore Store. Through an aggressive fundraising campaign in this tiny corner of rural America, they raised the $400,000 needed to buy the building.

"A large majority of donations were small donations from community members; $20 here and $25 dollars there added up over time," Braun added.

Back in January, Kate Gluckman and her husband, Mike, took over running the store. They don't own the building itself though. That's where the community trust comes in. The nonprofit owns the brick-and-mortar and is responsible for upkeep and maintenance.

"We want to preserve those spaces and preserve that way of life," Gluckman said.

All of that gives these small business owners a chance to focus on running a business, while at the same time ensuring this small town doesn't lose its store.

"I do think it is an innovative way to preserve these important spaces," she added.

At the turn of the 20th century, general stores could be found in nearly every American community. But in the 1930s, supermarkets began to spring up. Unable to compete, general stores closed from coast to coast.

Ben Doyle with the Preservation Society of Vermont says the Green Mountain State has lost at least 30 general stores in the last few decades.

"It can be really devastating for a community a real sense of loss, of community identity," he said.

But this preservationist is seeing more communities using the trust model to save small-town stores. Some rural towns are even in the process of reopening stores that have been closed for years.

"The store can actually focus on being a store. The landlord isn't trying to make a buck they're trying to make sure the mission of community vitality lives on," he said.

A common thought is that a career in the arts is not lucrative, but rural communities across the country are proving otherwise, as small towns are harnessing them to stimulate their economies and survive.

The town of Creede, a municipality of 350 people in the southwest mountains of Colorado, is a perfect example of just how life-saving the arts can be.

“That’s an amazing story; it really is,” said Scotty Lamb, a 6^th-generation Creede resident.

For nearly its entire existence, Creede was a mining town that could not have skewed further from the arts, but in the 1960s, the town’s three mines started to close, leaving Creede and its families in a crisis of both identity and survival.

Lamb was born in the town’s days of coal but raised in its days of new, when, in 1965, the town turned to its old, abandoned movie theater for hope.

“Bit by bit, excitement was kind of generated about the idea of becoming a destination, a tourist destination, and in the early days it centered around the theater,” said Lamb.

Residents decided to turn the abandoned building into a performing arts center known as the Creede Repertory Theater. In the early days, it was filled with used furniture from locals as a way to create set pieces as the theater put on a different show each night.

Over time, word of the theater spread, and today, it is the focal point of Creede, which draws 20,000 people to its theater’s shows every summer.

“Over the years, I think there are different moments of tension here and there for this reason or that, but for the most part I think we realize we need each other,” said John DiAntonio, the producing artistic director at the Creede Repertory Theater.

The Creede Repertory Theater has eight full-time employees that live in the town year-round, but every summer, it hires 100 people from around the country who range from actors to set designers to box office attendants. For a town of 350 people, it makes the theater Creede’s largest economic generator as well as its largest employer.

Other towns across the country at harnessing the economic power of the arts as well. According to the Environmental Protection Agency, they include Douglas, GA; Mount Morris, NY; Roanoke, VA; Paducah, KY; Emporia, KS; Dubuque, IA; and Bend, OR.

“It seems integral. Like, it seems to be the nexus of a lot that goes on here,” said Tony King, an actor who moved to Creede in May to take part in its show Sherwood: The Adventures of Robin Hood this summer. “When you’re walking down the street people are coming up saying, ‘Oh that impacted me in this way,’ or ‘you were great in this show. My kids, it’s their first time seeing theater’ so on and so forth, and to see it all unfold for you in front of your face is truly remarkable.”

The beauty in Creede is innate as towering walls of rock and granite surround the town. It is an art as admirable as Creede’s ability to adapt and survive.

“I kind of hate to think about [what would have happened if the theater never existed],” added Lamb. “I’m sure we would have survived in some fashion, but we wouldn’t have thrived, we wouldn’t have flourished.”

For millions of parents in the U.S., getting a COVID-19 vaccine for their kids is as simple as a few clicks, filling out some forms, and driving to a nearby clinic. But, for those in more rural parts of the country, access to vaccines can be a bit more of a struggle     

"We were so hopeful even back this summer when we first started hearing about, like, how soon it might be approved for children," said Annie Edwards, a mother in rural Montana.

She's hopeful because she knows what it's like to have a sick kid. Her daughter Hannah was born at 27 weeks, weighing one pound. But, for the 57 million people like Edwards who live in rural America, vaccine approval means nothing if they can't find a shot.  She drove to Billings, Montana, in December, which is a 500-mile round trip car ride to get her daughter the first dose.    

"Why are we having to drive this far? Why is it this hard?" asked Edwards.

An hour before the second appointment, the store canceled because it ran out of vaccine doses.   

"In rural areas, where people are spread out, there's much less opportunity for kids," said Dr. Jennifer Kates, senior vice president of the Kaiser Family Foundation. 

Edwards echoed her frustration saying, "You know, we live in the United States of America, where we have the most access," she said. "This shouldn't be difficult."    

Right now, Pfizer's vaccine is the only one approved for children. It's a smaller dose. Current minimum shipments come in a 10-vial pack, with 10 doses per vial. The company said that's to "better suit the needs of pediatric clinics." They can be stored for up to 10 weeks in refrigerators.

   

"Once you open the package, you have to use those within 12 hours. And if a provider wants to vaccinate one kid, they have to vaccinate 10 kids to not waste any, so that's a big challenge that we've seen with smaller providers and doctors' offices. They have to figure out, should I even do this," Kates said. 

Edwards' pediatrician told her she's not vaccinating kids against COVID-19. A Kaiser Family Foundation poll found more than one-third of rural parents said their health care providers are not even recommending the vaccine for kids.

 

"If a pediatrician isn't encouraging it, that could really be a deterrent for a parent," Kates said. "And it could be the situation where the pediatrician themselves doesn't have the vaccine."

Punching many rural zip codes into vaccines.gov will lead you to a page showing no pediatric shots within 25 miles, with some availability 50 to 100 miles away.      

"If you're a parent who's on the fence, you know, what's going to tip you if you then have to say, well, I'm going to drive 250 miles to do this thing that I'm a little bit wary of. Or even if you're an eager parent, if you don't have a car, if you can't take time off from work, what are you to do," said Kates.  

"There are some places that have put in operation mobile clinics to try to reach kids in those outposts. But, that's sort of the exception, not the rule. It's incredibly difficult. And, of course, when they're the only person who's asking for it in their community, they don't have support. And that makes it even more difficult," Kates said. 

It's a story pediatrician Kathy Rogers is familiar with. She came out of retirement to help administer vaccines.

"I can't sit this one out. This is too important," Rogers said. 

Some of the children at her clinic have traveled up to four hours round trip, twice.

    

"It breaks my heart and I would like to go door-to-door and just offer it to people, and if they don't want it, fine," said Rogers. 

"We have work that lies ahead for rural America, and in general for the country, but really in rural areas," Kates said.  

Montana data shows no kids between 5 and 11 in McCone County are fully vaccinated, with many other counties at 5% or less. Stats show similar rates in parts of rural Idaho, with numbers as low as 1% in places. And it's the same story in parts of Wyoming.    

"I don't understand how we're failing to get it dispersed in rural America," Edwards said. "Because that might be part of it. If I had access, if I could tell my neighbor, yeah, go down. You can get an appointment today, or you can get an appointment when you take your child to their well check or when you're getting their ears checked." 

Multiple doctors say removing barriers likely means an unwanted side effect, like waste.

   

"You can try as hard as you can not to waste vaccine. But if I can give one vaccine to one person, even if I have to waste the whole other dose, I'm going to do that. Because like with Omicron, the infectivity of it is just like measles. It's so high that I protected more people by doing one vaccine than doing none just because I want to save the vial," Rogers said. 

In addition to access, there's statistically more vaccine hesitancy in rural America, driving down demand. A Kaiser Family Foundation study found almost half of rural parents say they definitely will not get their 5- to 11-year-old vaccinated, compared to 22% of urban parents. But, if interest is low, Rogers said counties can and should work together to share doses, to reach as many as possible as Omicron keeps its grip on the country.     

"If you don't get out there and do this for people, what does that say? We've got to take care of each other. And I take care of my family, but my community is my family. It's too important to know those health care workers all feel that way. And that's why some of them are quitting because they feel this so intimately," Rogers said.   

Kates said some states, like Maine and Vermont, have gotten the vaccination effort right from the start, and there's more that can be done elsewhere.    

"From a broader perspective, states and certainly the federal government, can look at how they can pre-position vaccines for remote areas. So, finding the right pharmacy sites, doing mobile clinics to go to people, setting up actual vaccine clinics periodically, where you're really advertising and pushing out that information to communities, it still means that not everyone's going to be easily reached, but you have to make those opportunities more frequent, and visible and easy for parents," Kates said. 

Edwards hopes to get her daughter's second vaccine dose at a neighboring county's clinic soon.  

"It's a drive, it's not close," she said. It will mean about 200 miles round trip for her, and she along with others don't think it should be this hard.

This story was originally published by Maritsa Georgiou on Newsy.

CONWAY, N.H. — Mother Nature is rarely kind to Mt. Washington. On a recent fall morning, the New Hampshire's tallest peak was bathed in blue skies as tourists from all over the world flocked here to catch one final glimpse of foliage.

This mountain is home to the highest recorded man-measured wind speed in the world and it is also home to the world’s first mountain-climbing train, The Cog Railway.

The operation is about as small-business as they come. Each diesel-powered engine is custom built in a warehouse at the base of Mt. Washington. Like many businesses across the country though, The Cog is being faced with a shortage of mechanics and engineers needed to keep this place going.

"New Hampshire has had a hard time with keeping skilled workers. They always tend to leave out of state," said Rob Arey, who works for the railway.

But the old Cog Railway first constructed in 1868 is about to offer new opportunities to a whole new generation of the workforce.

The idea is simple, connect students at nearby White Mountains Community College with job training opportunities working on those diesel engines which power The Cog Railway. Not only will the program help get graduating students into a job pipeline that desperately needs them, the concept is also being deployed in hopes of keeping students from leaving rural communities like this one once they graduate.

A term typically referred to as “rural flight.”

"This is the first step in us keeping our kids here in the local schools, learning here, falling in love with us as a place to work," Rob Arey added.

Marc Poulit is an instructor at nearby White Mountains Community College. He has about 30 students in his program, all of whom are now eligible to apply for the new internship program.

"We are really planting that seed and thinking about, 'I don’t need to move out of state to get a good-paying job,'" Poulit said.

Perhaps the biggest challenge when it comes to keeping students in rural communities after they graduate is pay. On average, new graduates can earn 15% more on their first job if they move to a big city. That is often a gamechanger for new graduates especially if they have student loans to pay off.

Back at the Cog, they are anxiously awaiting the arrival of new students. While this railway may be old the technology, what they’re using here is more complex than most Amtrak trains, providing a perfect opportunity for the next generation of engineers and mechanics to train on.

"The way this facility was built is for the future. It’s all technology they may not even get at the community college. It’s exciting they get to come in here and learn it first hand," said Rob Arey with The Cog.

Like the trains here themselves, the hope is the whole idea will keep students careers climbing in the communities they call home.

Saguache County, Colorado is larger than the states of Delaware and Rhode Island combined.

It is a valley surrounded by mountain peaks that draws people who are looking for the secluded lifestyle that rural America can offer.

“Everybody knows everybody,” said Doug Peeples, who owns a grocery market in the county seat of Saguache.

The town of Saguache is small, having never boasted more than 700 full-time residents in the last 30 years. The county is even more dispersed as the population density is less than two people per square mile.

Then, in 2014, all of that changed once Colorado became the first state in the country to legalize recreational marijuana.

“I would venture to guess we saw 2,000 to 3,000 people in overnight,” said Saguache County Sheriff Dan Warwick.

“All of a sudden we had an influx of people that were out-of-towners,” added Peeples.

Located in the southern part of Colorado, the county became a destination for people from neighboring states who wanted to use the weed recreationally, but particularly those who wanted to start grow operations before returning the product back to their home state-- something that is illegal.

“With only six deputies, how do you try and catch these bad actors?” said Warwick. “You just hope to come across it.”

The influx led to squalor and crime as sheds laid abandoned after people would use them for growing marijuana before skipping town once they harvested.

“You’d see people come in and they would grow on a piece of property that they leased for a short period of time,” said Warwick. “They would leave all their trash and junk everywhere and then just pack up and leave.”

It became a divisive issue in the county as full-time residents would be left to deal with the mess.

“For a while, this place was the Wild Wild West,” said county commissioner Jason Anderson.

Anderson, along with the rest of the county commissioners, worked to find a solution by passing an excise tax in 2016 that would give them 5 percent of the profits when legal growers would sell to retailers.

In theory, the legislation would allow the county to benefit from something that had caused so much turbulence as the commissioners allocated money to go towards schools, enforcement, and other areas that needed improvement, but it started off slow.

“The first year [of the tax] we only saw $6,000, again, because the legal operations weren’t up and running yet,” said Anderson.

Gradually, however, that tax money started to increase. After only seeing $6,000 in 2017 Saguache County pulled in $67,000 in 2018 and $280,000 in 2019.

“We hired a code enforcement officer and outfitted him with everything he needs full-time, which is something we could never even think about beforehand,” said Anderson.

The county also set up a scholarship fund for local students planning to go to college and helped others get to school by updating trail systems that encouraged kids to walk in a county where the childhood poverty rate is 46 percent.

“I think we are better off [from the legalization of marijuana] in that we need all the resources we can to continue to adapt to the changes.”

Some places in town still have yet to see the money as some storefronts along the town of Saguache’s main street still lay vacant, but the county hopes as the tax money grows each year, so does prosper in the town.