The One-Traffic-Light Town With Some of the Fastest Internet in the US

Connecting rural America to broadband is a popular talking point on the campaign trail. In one Kentucky community, itâ(TM)s already a way of life. From a report: McKee, an Appalachian town of about twelve hundred tucked into the Pigeon Roost Creek valley, is the seat of Jackson County, one of the poorest counties in the country. There's a sit-down restaurant, Opal's, that serves the weekday breakfast-and-lunch crowd, one traffic light, a library, a few health clinics, eight churches, a Dairy Queen, a pair of dollar stores, and some of the fastest Internet in the United States. Subscribers to Peoples Rural Telephone Cooperative (P.R.T.C.), which covers all of Jackson County and the adjacent Owsley County, can get speeds of up to one gigabit per second, and the cooperative is planning to upgrade the system to ten gigabits. (By contrast, where I live, in the mountains above Lake Champlain, we are lucky to get three megabytes.) For nearly fifteen million Americans living in sparsely populated communities, there is no broadband Internet service at all. "The cost of infrastructure simply doesn't change," Shirley Bloomfield, the C.E.O. of the Rural Broadband Association, told me. "It's no different in a rural area than in Washington, D.C. But we've got thousands of people in a square mile to spread the cost among. You just don't in rural areas."

Keith Gabbard, the C.E.O. of P.R.T.C., had the audacious idea of wiring every home and business in Jackson and Owsley Counties with high-speed fibre-optic cable. Gabbard, who is in his sixties, is deceptively easygoing, with a honeyed drawl and a geographically misplaced affection for the Pittsburgh Pirates. He grew up in McKee and attended Eastern Kentucky University, thirty-five miles down Route 421; he lives with his wife, a retired social worker, in a house next door to the one in which he grew up. "I've spent my whole life here," he said. "I'm used to people leaving for college and never coming back. The ones who didn't go to college stayed. But the best and the brightest have often left because they felt like they didn't have a choice." When Gabbard returned to his home town after college, in 1976, he took an entry-level job at the telephone cooperative. "I had this degree in business management that I thought was really cool, but I got a job answering the phones," he said. "At the time, we were all on party lines, and everybody was calling and complaining about somebody on their line and they couldn't get the phone. I was taking those complaints. And I remember thinking that, once we got everyone their own lines, we won't have any more problems. I didn't have a clue what was coming."