In Eagle Rock, North Carolina, the Gooch family's 12-acre plot has transformed from a tobacco farm into a vibrant Latino cultural hub, hosting Mexican concerts and rodeos that draw thousands. Donal Gooch, 69, who grew up on the land when it was part of eastern Wake County's tobacco country, now runs the Gooch Sports Arena, which features touring bands from Michoacán, Sinaloa, and Chihuahua, as well as jaripeos (bull-riding festivals). The arena can sell up to 5,500 tickets at over $70 each, with trash levels indicating success—less trash means fewer tickets sold.
A family legacy rooted in horse culture
The land has been in the Goodson family since 1944, when three siblings bought 68 acres from a white family. Donal's daughter Caitlin, 33, grew up riding horses over neighboring farms and woods, much of it owned by relatives. She now runs Saddle Up and Read, a non-profit that teaches children to read with the help of her miniature horse, Man Man. Caitlin has appeared on Good Morning America, CNN, and in Vogue, but still struggles financially, often crowdfunding for farm repairs.
Donal revived the family's horse traditions during his adolescence, co-founding a saddle club at NC A&T and hosting private parties. He later held horse races at Eagle Rock Downs and trail rides, creating a gathering point for Black horse-centric subculture. After a 1996 rehab stint, he envisioned using his land for “cowboy entertainment.”
Partnering with Mexican promoters
In 2003, Donal met Cuco, a Mexican concert promoter who moved to North Carolina at age 13. Cuco initially doubted Donal's land but soon began hosting coleadero (bull tail-yanking events) and concerts. The partnership grew, with cumbia, mariachi, norteño, and banda music drawing crowds. Cuco's nephew Daniel Ponce views the events as a “de-stressor” for the community to “blow steam from the 45-, 60-hour week that they just had.” About Donal, Ponce said: “He might be African American, but I think everybody that comes in this place just sees him as another Mexican.”
Impact of immigration enforcement
In 2025, ICE arrests in North Carolina doubled, affecting business. Ponce canceled a concert in South Carolina due to fear among attendees. “We’re not gonna penalize somebody or force somebody to come out when they’re afraid,” he said. Touring Mexican bands have also faced visa issues, driving up costs. It now costs between $180,000 and $300,000 to put on a concert at the arena, with security running over $25,000 per show. Despite challenges, Ponce is on the road over 45 weekends a year.
Local families benefit
Juliet Rodriguez, 26, is one of 12 family members who staff Donal's concerts. “Many places we go, we always hear: ‘Did you go to Gooch Sports Arena?’” she says. Donal attends national meetups of Mexican concert promoters, where his success makes him popular.
Growth and new rules
The area is rapidly suburbanizing, with subdivisions like Wendell Falls, a 1,100-acre development, encroaching on the family land. The arena is now bound by Wendell's extraterritorial jurisdiction, limiting amplified sound to Saturdays between 1pm and 11:30pm and requiring off-duty law enforcement at events. “They can tell us what to do,” Donal says. “We don't have no jurisdiction, we don't have no vote, no nothing in the city of Wendell.”
Caitlin now attends town halls and encourages her online following to do the same. Her Saddle Up and Read fun day featured free books, face painting, and counseling services. “Something, somebody, has to pull people in,” she says.
Preserving a way of life
Ron Goodson, a relative who owns 25 acres across the street, faces pressure to sell. Developers want to build 200 townhomes on his plot. “If I could get, you know, five and a half million for my property, I would think about it seriously,” Goodson says. “But, if say, a hundred thousand dollars was on the table to not ever develop it, I would take it just like that.”
Donal remains entrepreneurial, planning a bar from an old Baskin-Robbins trailer, air-conditioning the boom-boom room, and reviving Eagle Rock Downs. “You can't retire. You'll die,” he says. Harrison Todd, 37, a childhood friend of Caitlin's who now owns eight acres and works as a firefighter, appreciates the multicultural horse culture. “It's getting to the point now where we all do things together,” Todd says, pointing at his son and his son's Mexican friend. “They like brothers.”
