Home to at least four billionaires, the low-key, ‘no frills’ enclave of Cashiers has one of the country’s highest concentrations of wealth.
7 min
CASHIERS, N. C.—Shortly before 4 p.m. on a recent November afternoon, Buck’s Coffee Cafe was buzzing with a steady stream of customers that included a local chef, the scion of a hot-sauce empire, a real-estate developer and others.
Two Porsches and a pickup truck were parked in front of the shop, which serves as a de facto town hall at the intersection of North Carolina Highway 107 and U.S. Route 64.
If Cashiers had a town centre, this would be it: a crossroads surrounded by a smattering of retail.
In the Blue Ridge Mountains, the unincorporated village has no mayor, no local police force and no central public water supply. There is a limited public sewer system, just a handful of sidewalks and one Ingles supermarket, affectionately known as “Mingles” because it is where locals tend to socialise.
But what Cashiers does have is lots of uber-wealthy homeowners who have been coming to the area for more than a century.
With a full-time population of just 825—and at least four billionaires with homes—Cashiers has one of the highest concentrations of wealth in the country, according to data from Altrata, a wealth-intelligence firm.
Drawn to the area’s climate and natural beauty, most deep-pocketed homeowners, including billionaires like Ken Langone, a co-founder of Home Depot, and members of Nashville’s Ingram family, own property in a half-dozen private golf communities fanning out from the main intersection.
Even as real-estate values in Cashiers (pronounced Cash-ERS) nearly doubled over the past five years, locals have resisted overdevelopment in favour of retaining its small-town character, which provides relative anonymity to its wealthiest residents.
A September article in The Wall Street Journal, disclosing the presence of four billionaire families, got the community talking.
“People said, ‘Four? What an insult. We’ve got more than that,’” said Ann McKee Austin, who summered in Cashiers as a child and who co-developed, with her brother William McKee, the Wade Hampton Golf Club in the 1980s. “It attracts low-key people, not jet-set people,” said Austin.
South Carolina politician Wade Hampton III, a Confederate general, was among the first to build a summer lodge in Cashiers in the 1800s.
By the 1980s, golf communities with courses designed by Tom Fazio, Arnold Palmer and others began sprouting up in the area.
Today, there are at least 15 clubs on the Highlands-Cashiers Plateau, a roughly 25-mile area that includes Cashiers and its sister town of Highlands, a quaint tourist destination with high-end shops, restaurants and hotels.
By contrast, Cashiers has no Main Street and is “no frills,” said real-estate agent Kati Miller of Caliber Fine Property, comparing it to the fictional town of Mayberry. “You’re not going to see Prada or any sort of chain. It’s hard to get to—the closest airport is 45 minutes away on windy one-lane roads.”
Life in both places largely revolves around the clubs, where the average home-sale price was roughly $5.4 million over the past three months, said Ali Moody of Caliber.
Owning property is often a prerequisite to membership, which costs upward of $100,000 plus annual dues. Besides amenities like golf, tennis, croquet and dining, clubs also provide infrastructure like roads, water and sewer systems, making construction of luxury homes possible.
“Clubs are like mini-cities, quite frankly,” said Jody Lovell of Highlands-Cashiers Sotheby’s International Realty. Some clubs even provide workforce housing.
Over the years, the ranks of wealthy residents have swelled to include Langone, who paid less than $1 million combined to buy 5.77 acres at Wade Hampton in the 1990s, records show. (For many years, the late Bernie Marcus, another co-founder of Home Depot, also had a place there.) Martha Ingram, who succeeded her late husband as chairman of the billionaire family’s conglomerate Ingram Industries ,bought at the Chattooga Club more than three decades ago.
Langone said he was visiting a friend for the weekend when he toured Wade Hampton and was “blown away” by the newly-built golf course. He bought land before he left and built a four-bedroom home that he has added to over the years.
He said people in Cashiers are civic-minded, hard-working, and kind. “I go there, and they treat me like I’m just anybody else,” he said, “which is the way it should be. ”
Martha’s son, David Ingram, and his wife, Sarah, own several properties at Chattooga—and they recently purchased the club from his uncle (and Martha’s brother) John Rivers, who developed it in the 1980s.
Members of the McIlhenny family, which has been making Tabasco in Louisiana since the 1800s, also own in Cashiers, as does billionaire Scott Hardman Ward, a scion of Russell Stover candies, and Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent , who spent $4.6 million in 2022. He is now looking to sell his property for $5.25 million.
Billionaire energy mogul William Doré owns two homes in Wade Hampton, which he purchased for about $3 million combined in 2016 and 2019. And Ric Elias, the billionaire CEO of Red Ventures, recently sold a roughly 2.6-acre lot at the Club at High Hampton for $2.5 million, after paying $2.25 million in 2023. Elias and Bessent didn’t comment. Ward, Doré and the McIlhenny family didn’t respond to requests for comment.
Year-round residents say wealthy “summer people” don’t get any special attention. Pro golfers with homes in the area regularly grab a slice at Slab Town Pizza, said restaurant manager Scott Mulchay. No one bats an eye.
Langone said one of his favourite events is a July Fourth get-together hosted by a family at High Hampton, who serve barbecue; people dress in Americana, sing patriotic songs and fire off a mini-cannon, he said.
“We don’t need to prove what we have or show what we have,” he said. “We just enjoy everyone’s company.”
Despite its unpretentiousness, a turning point for the Cashiers luxury market came in the early 2000s, when Discovery Land Co., the developer behind Montana’s Yellowstone Club, opened Mountaintop Golf & Lake Club, drawing more well-heeled buyers not just from the Southeast, but other parts of the country. The McKee family’s sale of the High Hampton Inn in 2017 to the operator of Tennessee’s popular Blackberry Farm, which renovated the historic property, had a similar effect. undefined
Rob Palumbo, who works in the financial services industry in Atlanta, fell in love with Cashiers’ tranquillity 25 years ago, and for years he owned a log cabin on the Tuckasegee River. In 2013, he and his wife, Melanie Palumbo, paid $800,000 for a 2.3-acre lot at Mountaintop and built a six-bedroom house.
Like other resort areas, Cashiers experienced a Covid boom that turbocharged home prices.
Between 2020 and 2024, the average home sale price jumped 88.8% from $1.05 million to $1.98 million, according to data from the multiple listing service. Despite economic uncertainty that has slowed the luxury market nationwide, Cashiers recently had a string of sales above $7 million—a once-untouchable price point.
“For the longest time, $6 million was the ceiling,” said Caliber’s Miller, who said prices are rising as new homes sell for the first time.
The record in Cashiers was set in July, when a house at Mountaintop with a glass-and-steel facade sold for $11.11 million, said listing agent Liz Harris of Cashiers Sotheby’s International Realty. The prior owner paid $600,000 for the 1.85-acre lot in 2020, records show. “What kept [the market] down before, honestly, was people didn’t know about it,” Harris said. The buyer couldn’t be determined.
Earlier this month, a 6.5-acre estate at Cullasaja Club—halfway between Cashiers and Highlands—sold for $12 million.
Some real-estate insiders say the market, as it currently exists, can only grow so much.
Cashiers has six months’ worth of world-class golf between May and October, but there is less to draw people there during the “shoulder” seasons, said developer Sam Lupas.
A bigger issue is inventory. Many of the clubs have waiting lists, Miller said, even Mountaintop, where the initiation fee will be $275,000 starting January 1. “I hate to say it, but we need another club up here,” she said. “They’re all full.”
In 2003, locals voted against incorporation out of fear of paying higher taxes or ceding autonomy to government bureaucracy. Instead, local philanthropists have supported a local charter school, library, boys and girls club and volunteer fire department.
Two decades ago, when a hotel developer tried to build an Econo Lodge near the main intersection, residents swooped in to purchase the land. They designed a Village Green that is encircled with a low stone wall, and a hard-to-find entrance in the rear. “It was meant to be for the people that live here, and you access it from behind the scenes, rather than ‘Stop here and have a picnic lunch,’” said Austin.
Over the past few years, Cashiers has experienced growing pains amid its newfound popularity. During the summer months, traffic can back up for miles, said the Rev. Steve Hines, a retired clergyman who is a member of the Chattooga Club. “There were wealthy people here before, but not at this level,” he said. The growth “has gotten a little out of hand.”
Affordable housing is also an issue, said Jackie Hooper Hernandez, a clerk at Lulu & You clothing boutique, who said she is lucky to live with a relative about 8 miles from the shop. Other family members drive more than 30 minutes to work. But she puts up with the inconveniences of the summer influx because her livelihood depends on it. “We might hate the traffic,” she said, “but you know, if we didn’t have that, I wouldn’t have a job,” she said.
Some people think Cashiers would be better off incorporating, so that it could benefit from having its own tax base and public infrastructure.
But others believe there is reason to fear overdevelopment. “I’ve witnessed an overbuilding [at other clubs], where going to dinner or getting a tee time for golf almost became a lottery system,” said Hufstetler, who just bought the $12 million house in Cullasaja. He previously owned homes in Destin, Fla., and on Lake Oconee, Ga., that he sold when those areas became too crowded.
Lupas said he and his partners are working on an effort to bring hospitality, retail and housing to Cashiers in a way that is both appropriate and “authentic” to the community. “Some people think I’m an evil developer,” but he said the opposite is true. He believes a certain amount of growth is good for Cashiers, if not necessary. “Everybody wants it to stay like it was in 1950, but it’s not possible.”
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Georgetown agent Jamie Peva blends history and real estate on Instagram, turning local stories into a powerful sales strategy.
5 min
On a recent morning in Georgetown—Washington, D.C.’s oldest neighborhood—real-estate agent Jamie Peva strode down leafy N Street, brimming with historical tidbits.
Jackie Kennedy once lived on the street, he said. So did Ben Bradlee, former executive editor of the Washington Post, along with a former Miss America and a powerful U.S. Senator. Bradlee’s widow, author Sally Quinn, and Eric Schmidt, former CEO of Google, own stately homes there.
“I’ve seen a picture of Lyndon Johnson coming out of this house,” said Peva, passing a Federal-style brick mansion. “Also, the Beatles went to a lawn party here.”
Peva, a 60-year-old agent with Washington Fine Properties, has sold Georgetown real estate for over three decades, often traversing the neighborhood by bicycle. Of the roughly 2,500 houses in the historic neighborhood, he has been involved in the sale of 460, he estimated. A self-styled historian of the neighborhood, he knows stories behind its houses and their owners going back generations.
With a knack for lively storytelling, he shares his knowledge with some 37,500 Instagram followers, who have made Peva—sporting the bow ties he has worn since boarding school—an unlikely social-media influencer. Many of his followers are locals, and most have no plans to buy or sell real estate—until they do. It is then, according to Peva, that his spirited reels bring him to mind.
“It’s the digital version of a refrigerator magnet,” he said.
After Peva’s first video in November 2023, his eponymous Instagram account sparked a 10% increase in sales volume in the first year, and another 20% the next, he estimated. “It’s been very good for business, there is no question about it,” he said.
But Peva’s posts have also made him a local celebrity. As he walked down N street, the driver of a Mercedes station wagon slowed down to honk and wave. A lady walking a large dark gray dog stopped to ask what he was filming that day (a reel about a Colonial-era bottling plant.) Peva knew the dog from walking his two springers, Jumpy and Peggy-O, in the neighborhood.
“I need to make a video about the pooches of Georgetown,” he mused.
A growing number of real-estate agents now use social media to sell, and some have millions of followers with reels featuring ultraluxury pads, selling tips or reality TV-style reports on their daily lives. While Peva posts about his listings—and sometimes those of other agents—he mostly focuses on Georgetown history, local businesses and community events, saying his goal is to benefit both his business and the neighborhood.
“If we don’t find something genuinely interesting and worth sharing, we won’t do it,” said Peva’s daughter, Violet Peva, a New York social-media strategist who films, edits and posts his reels. “We cover many topics, not just real-estate information.”
Peva is originally from Connecticut, but has lived in Georgetown for over 30 years, currently in a cottage-style house with a white picket fence. Over the years, Georgetown has changed. The Georgetown Set, a powerful group of Cold War-era residents whose Sunday-night potluck dinners are said to have swayed U.S. policy, has long faded away. The community is still home to high-profile Washingtonians, including a Republican senator and several cabinet members. But it increasingly also attracts technology and finance executives, according to Peva. He now routinely signs nondisclosure agreements, ensuring privacy for wealthy clients. The shift has made him rethink his marketing approach.
“For years, a big part of our Georgetown business was made up of people who maintained a low profile,” he said. Real-estate agents were similarly low-key. Today, curb appeal is more important, he said, and agents are promoting themselves more. “As this change was underfoot, I was thinking that I needed to evolve myself too,” he said.
Though his own social-media use is mostly limited to following sailing accounts, he asked his daughter to help him post his listings online. Violet, now 26, started coming to D.C. once a month to film his reels. After an early video, on a condominium building called the Elliott, her sister Fern called her to report: “Daddy’s blowing up on Instagram,” Violet recalled. The reel got over 50,000 views. The next two each drew over 300,000. Peva’s most popular post ever, with over 838,000 views, was about the Grateful Dead playing in Georgetown. Sometimes, Peva interviews Georgetowners such as Quinn, the author, or Jamie Stachowski, the owner of a local butcher shop.
Peva, who majored in history in college, now spends up to two hours a day on research, usually in the morning while on his stationery bike. Online, he pores over old newspapers or the Library of Congress website, and he has a collection of articles and books—in and out of print—about Georgetown.
Companies often approach Peva for promotional posts, he said, but he turns them down, feeling that followers would lose interest in constant commercials. One exception is a recent paid post on Mount Vernon, the former home of George Washington. Peva wanted to share its history, he said, and didn’t want to lose the opportunity to another Instagrammer.
Anthony Arend, a professor at Georgetown University, has lived in his current home for 19 years without any plans to sell or buy real estate. But he follows Peva and often likes his posts.
“He is very charismatic, he is energetic, and he obviously knows a lot about the community,” said Arend, who has referred house-hunting friends to Peva.
One of Peva’s biggest deals—the $10.5 million sale of a 19th-century Italianate mansion—came after he made two 2024 reels featuring the property. In March, he sold the longtime O Street home of Tim and Jane Matz for $5.8 million after featuring it on his Instagram. Peva had showed them the home 25 years earlier, with Violet in a baby carrier on his back.
Last year, Kate Watts, 49, a digital consultant, called Peva to sell her late father’s three-bedroom house on Q Street; her husband had seen Peva on Instagram. In an October reel, Peva praised the architecture of the house, designed by modernist Hugh Newell Jacobsen. Halfway through, he mentioned an open house the next day, ending with an upbeat: “Did I also mention this house is for sale? $3.75 million!” The reel got 27,000 views, the open house was packed, and the buyers made an offer at the list price on the same day.
