My mission was to accompany as scribe Guy Fay, talent scout and newly christened cinematographer for DixieFrog records of France, in his quest to record on video for a future documentary American roots music; particularly that type which establishes a link between Native American music with that of our African-American forebears.
Our destination was Lumberton, NC, near the South Carolina border where today live the remnants of the original Tuscarora tribe, which here at one time had proliferated before the arrival of the British colonists, who then proceeded to encroach on their territory and thus precipitated the Tuscarora War of 1711-13.

Willie “Bee” Locklear, the Bear Clan chief, explained that he served as an elder in the tribe, an unofficial advisor or counselor; maybe even at times an arbiter in disputes, but only if both the dissenting parties sought him out voluntarily. Actually, Willie at first seemed reticent to speak, as if suspicious of our motives. Maybe he thought that we were the FBI, because of the sheer number of questions we directed his way. And I have to admit that we put him on the spot because we did not know a lot about his customs. One question in particular - how the Tuscaroras were able to reconcile their former religious beliefs with their relatively recent espousal of Christianity - disturbed him, as if he had to justify defending his faith. “Let’s put it this way,” he said, “There’s only one Great Spirit.” It was a brilliant response - simple and to the point.

But Willie eventually warmed up to me, especially when I talked of the Chavis Brothers, his former idols as well. I discovered that in 1964 Willie had lived for several months in Baltimore, performing as keyboardist in the short lived “Soul Drifters,” whose regular Broadway haunt he just couldn’t recall. And he also handled the piano chores in the well traveled Tarheel Rockers during that same period.

Willie was an expert in all the traditional food dishes, including those requiring vegetables like corn, beans, and squash, and meats, like deer, rabbit, and squirrel. In fact, each year among the tribesmen there is an organized, ceremonial bear hunt. He informed us that besides water, some of the conventional Tuscarora beverages included huckleberry and blueberry drunk from homemade gourds. And, of course, there was cornbread to accompany meals, not only a staple of their diet but also another uniquely Indian creation.

It was getting dark, so Marc ushered us into the community center, which also served as a school. In fact, there was a display of the Tuscarora alphabet, as well as the drawings and corresponding names of all the clans in that language. Also in the interior, was hanging the elaborate tribal flag, which I was forbidden to photograph. Guy claims that the state flag of New Mexico was thus stolen from an original design by the Navajo Indians. And perhaps it was for this reason that I was denied the right to shoot it.

Inside, David Locklear, the “faith keeper” of the Deer Clan, also talked about importance of preserving their heritage and to this end volunteers as the local language instructor. He finds it very encouraging that youngsters are attending his classes in increasing numbers. Before him, it was Pura Fe who assumed this role in this very building before going out on the road to forge her career. As this article is being written, she’s in France performing before huge sold-out arenas.

By the way, Marc, himself, is a teacher of sorts and has a government funded contract in helping such young Native Americans to deal with issues such as low self esteem, substance abuse, displacement, and even the idea of genocide. Prejudice against Indians is far from dead in these parts. And it’s had a demoralizing effect on more than a few of these residents. In fact, the local chapter of the Ku Klux Klan has had a long, violent history of harassing these people whom they disparagingly regard as “mongrels.”

As time was really flying by now, Marc suggested that we get to the task at hand - to determine whether there was indeed a relationship between the music, the primitive blues of the black ancestors and that of the Indians. David grabbed a tom-tom (officially called a water drum) and sat on the couch and was soon joined by Trey Locklear with a rattle and Marc. Marc believes that the “heartbeat rhythm” typical of many Tuscarora songs eventually may have evolved into the blues shuffle and asked me to listen for it. They all sang a few traditional pieces but I didn’t understand what he meant until I heard “Stomp Dance,” perhaps their fourth number. Then it all came together. It was that familiar call and response interplay of work songs which developed into gospel. They were actually chanting what I interpreted as field hollers and I could hardly tell whether it was black in origin or Native American. And moreover, it had a lot of soul. What an amazing revelation. After having heard this one random selection, I’d have to go back and reexamine everything I learned about the true source of blues music.

Marc had several more surprises planned for us that evening and urged us to hit the trail, but we first had to prevail upon him to don his full Indian regalia which he exhibits during concerts, like New Orleans’ JazzFest, where the group has been invited. Not to be outdone, and unbeknown to us, another spectator, Hazel Bryant, came out of hiding to proudly display her handiwork, an elegant, embroidered, traditional dress befitting a person of her stature in the tribe. Her Indian name, Teskiea, means that she “knows the medicines,” all the herbal cures. But finally it was time to go.