As a young boy at Lake Junaluska in the late 1920s, Brooks Patten remembers hundreds packing onto the dirt floor of Stuart Auditorium to hear cracker-jack revival-style sermons from some of the world’s best preachers — only he was next door at the soda fountain, eagerly waiting for the preachers to quit so the boys could play records on the Nickelodeon.

Apparently enough rubbed off on him though, because Patten, like his father before him, devoted his life to the United Methodist Church and became a preacher himself. But as a child, when Patten’s family boarded a train down east at the outset of summer, his thoughts were on the long days ahead of canoeing and swimming and roaming the mountains.

Now 90, Patten is one of Lake Junaluska’s oldest residents. He carries more memories of the Lake than anyone else alive — he was six-months-old on his first trip to Junaluska and hasn’t missed a summer since.

By the time Patten moved to the Lake year-round in 1984, things were already changing. He and his wife, Ginny, no longer knew every family in every home. And today, that’s far from the case.

“I was looking through the Junaluska directory and was realizing how many of the people who own these lots, I have no idea who these people are,” said Patten.

Once a summer enclave for families affiliated with the United Methodist Church, the composition has changed.

“Ultimately these houses began to move out of the families. That whole culture has changed,” said Bill Lowry, a Lake Junaluska historian. “There is not this closeness that was there when everybody knew everybody and they looked forward to seeing each other every summer and the kids got back together and played. There are a few of those people left around, and they talk wistfully about those days.”

But the Lake is so desirable in its own right — regardless of the presence of a Methodist conference center on its shore — that demand to live there is high.

“It is very obvious that there are more and more people who are buying homes here or building homes here simply because it is an attractive place to live, not because they want to be where there is a Methodist Assembly, or a religious influence even,” Lowry said.

There’s another reason the homes at Lake Junaluska are gradually leaving the hands of those with ties to the church.

“Preachers don’t have enough income to buy all this property around here and build these expensive homes,” Patten said.

The Lake’s shifting identity is happening not just within the neighborhoods, but on the business side as well. The Lake has a new mandate from the Southeastern Jurisdiction to become self-sufficient in their conference center operations within five-years. (See related article.)

In response, Junaluska’s leaders plan to market the convention facilities more aggressively to outside groups, including secular audiences.

“All of this together is almost imperceptible change as to what it started out to be and was for decades,” Lowry said. “There are some people that are uncomfortable about that.”

Some think a new business model is needed, however. Art O’Neil, a restaurant and inn owner at the Lake, said the Lake runs the risk of becoming a “dinosaur that just won’t die” if it doesn’t come to grips with the changing demands of today’s population, whether its locals, tourists or convention-goers.

“The lake is experiencing a little bit of an identify issue,” said O’Neil. “They kind of want to be a resort, they kind of want to be a Christian retreat center, and they kind of want to just be a cool place to live.”

Close-knit community

Despite the changing demographics of Lake Junaluska’s neighborhoods, Lake residents still share an unparalleled level of camaraderie. Regular emails keep homeowners posted of new neighbors, illnesses, deaths and any other relevant news.

“Sometimes it is two or three times a day,” said Ernie Porter, a resident at the Lake and chairman of the Junaluska Associates.

Homeowners band together every winter under what they call their “oil cartel.” They order trucks of heating oil and propane in bulk at wholesale prices for everyone who lives at the Lake. Volunteers run the operation, from taking orders to riding along in the trucks on delivery days.

The closeness is particularly unique given the size of the community: there’s more than 750 homes within the boundaries of the Lake. Porter traces the sense of unity to the ties most families have with the Methodist church.

“Not everybody who lives here is a Methodist minister or a Methodist lay person, but that nucleus tends to make it a more cohesive community,” said Porter, a retired Methodist minister.

That same spirit spurs supporters to collectively fork over tens of thousands a year in donations, providing cash for many of the perks that make Junaluska a lovely place to live or visit.

A group called the Junaluska Associates has donated $3.2 million to the Lake for various causes over the past three decades: the Rose Walk, the Asbury Trail, the amphitheater, landscaping at the new Welcome Center, a new organ at Memorial Chapel to name a few. The group bought the Lake a shiny, red trolley that transports people about the campus free of charge during conferences. The Associates even contribute annually toward the salary of a horticulturist for the grounds.

The group has 800 members, many of whom don’t live at the lake but have an affinity for it.

“You’ve got people who just believe in this place and want to do something here,” Porter said of the remarkable philanthropy. “Then there’s a generational thing. It is fairly regular that somebody says ‘I am the third or fourth generation to come here.’ You build up that sort of identity and connection and positive feelings toward it.”

There’s also a long list of individual donors who spring for special projects, like the mini-golf area, restrooms along the walking path, and the construction of Inspiration Point. The tennis courts even have their own foundation in perpetuity thanks to an anonymous donor.

The Lake has counted 5,000 individual donors, Carr said.

“They love Lake Junaluska. They believe in the ministry and the mission of Lake Junaluska and they are willing to invest in the future of Lake Junaluska,” Carr said.

Methodists across the South feel personally vested in Junaluska. The place was built on donations going back to its inception 100 years ago.

Today, Lake Junaluska is subsidized by Methodists across the South with an apportionment from each church based on the number in its congregation. It’s instilled a strong sense of ownership that makes the Lake what it is.

Staying true

As the identity of the Lake changes — from neighborhood demographics to a more vigorous pursuit of convention business — the sense of ownership so many Methodists feel for Lake Junaluska could slowly erode. That in turn could further accelerate the changes already taking place.

Bill Lowry, the Lake Junaluska historian, said the Lake’s biggest challenge for the future is retaining what he calls its “multi-faceted personality.”

“The thing that attracts people here is the atmosphere of the campus, which is unique because of its religious history,” Lowry said. “I don’t think anybody wants the Assembly to lose the personality it’s got, but there are constantly forces that are at work at it. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it is getting more secular.”

Devoted Junaluskans don’t think the changes will jeopardize how people feel about the Lake, however.

“I think there are so many people across the Southeastern Jurisdiction that will continue for a very, very long time to hold that special place in their hearts for Lake Junaluska because it has been so influential for so long in the Methodist Church throughout the Southeast,” said Garland Young, a retired Methodist minister who lives at the Lake.

Family ties to the Lake, while less dominant, have far from disappeared. Brooks Patten passed his own love for Lake Junaluska down to his sons. The life of a Methodist minister means a series of moves every few years for new appointments, but the Lake was a constant force.

Brooks’ sons cherished their childhood summers at the Lake so deeply three of them moved to the Lake as adults to build their careers, including Waynesville attorney Don Patten and dentist Reid Patten.

“This was the one root that was constant for my boys,” Ginny Patten said. “It was home. It was the only real home they had.”

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