This story was originally published by the Border Belt Independent and The Assembly.

Ed Goodwin quickly took a liking to Leon Locklear when the two men met more than a decade ago. 

It might have seemed an unlikely friendship: Goodwin, a Chowan County native, was an up-and-coming Republican in North Carolina politics. Locklear was the chief of the Tuscarora Nation’s Maxton longhouse in Robeson County 220 miles away, then a well-established Democratic stronghold.   

But Locklear reminded Goodwin of the Native Americans he knew as a child in the northeastern corner of the state. Goodwin, who in 2014 had been appointed by then-Gov. Pat McCrory to lead the North Carolina Ferry Division, invited Locklear in 2016 to help christen the Dredge Manteo in Manns Harbor. Locklear soon began asking Goodwin to attend Tuscarora ceremonies. 

“Me and him just clicked,” Goodwin said in a recent interview. “I thought the world of him, and he did me.” 

When Goodwin was elected to the state House in 2018, he made Locklear a promise: He would do everything in his power to get state recognition for the Tuscarora people. The long-sought designation would grant tribal members access to scholarships, workforce development, housing, and benefits available to the other eight state-recognized tribes. 

But Goodwin has faced roadblocks in both Raleigh and Robeson County, where hundreds of Tuscarora people live. The latest came in January when the chiefs of three prominent longhouses—including the longhouse that Locklear led until his death in 2019—declined to get on board with a newly formed tribal government. 

The Maxton, Prospect, and Saddletree longhouses have served for decades as spiritual and ceremonial centers for the Tuscarora people in Robeson County. Together they make up the Tuscarora Nation of North Carolina, but each operates independently, with its own chief and clan mothers who preserve cultural traditions.  

Self-governance has always been important to the Tuscarora, who have been in the Carolinas for more than 2,000 years. But Goodwin, who has introduced several state recognition bills for the Tuscarora, said the tribe would have a better chance of winning state lawmakers’ support if it formed a central government with a tribal chairman and council members. The more modern setup would clearly identify one leader to speak for the entire tribe and eliminate squabbling among longhouses.    

With help from Goodwin’s legislative assistant, Richard Blackwelder, some tribal members established the Tuscarora Indians of Kahtenuaka Territories in February. The group is structured as a “nation of individuals,” not a confederation of longhouses, meant to unify all 1,200 or so Tuscarora people across the state.

Leaders of the Maxton, Prospect, and Saddletree longhouses initially agreed to take part in the unification process and the new government. But they ultimately opted out, saying the group had veered too far from tradition and sown distrust. They questioned the leadership of Brock Jacobs, the newly appointed tribal chairman, who was a member of the Lumbee Tribe of North Carolina until about 15 years ago, when he traced his genealogy and determined his ancestors were Tuscaroran.  

Although tribal members were dealing with controversy, Goodwin introduced House Bill 600 in March that called for recognition of the Tuscarora Indians of Kahtenuaka Territories, which has about 300 members. Like previous iterations, the legislation likely won’t get a vote this year. But frustrations over longhouse politics remain. 

In a letter sent to Tuscarora leaders shortly before Goodwin filed HB600, the legislator said he was “elated that a unified government of the people has been formed, free of the old and divisive politics of the longhouses.” 

“On the other hand,” he wrote, “I am very saddened by the consistent and unnecessary fractures and conflict among members of the various longhouses.”

On’yas Locklear, Leon’s grandson and the current Maxton chief, said he felt organizers of the new group gave the longhouses an ultimatum: “Come on board or get left behind.”

His grandfather, he said, would “roll over in his grave if he knew what was being done.” 

‘They don’t like Tuscarora’

Goodwin, who is white, said he didn’t think twice about hanging out with Black and Native American kids in the 1950s and ’60s. Together they climbed trees, rode horses, and played in the swamps, unaware or unbothered by the racism that gripped the Jim Crow South. 

Now 73, he said he continued to eschew racist ideologies—at the tobacco markets where he befriended Tuscarora residents, in the Air Force during the Vietnam War, and at the General Assembly in Raleigh. 

Support for Tuscarora recognition has grown, Goodwin said, with the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians and the Catawba Indian Nation voicing their support. But, he said, “That doesn’t mean anything to the lily-white crowd of folks here.” 

The Tuscarora tried to get recognition through the North Carolina Commission of Indian Affairs in 2019. But the commission denied the request, saying the Tuscarora were a “splinter group” of the Lumbee tribe, which is also based in Robeson County and has been a vocal opponent of state recognition for the Tuscarora.

The histories of Tuscarora and Lumbee people have been inextricably linked since the arrival of Europeans. 

In the early 18th century, the Tuscarora War, known as the bloodiest colonial war in the state, left 1,000 Native Americans and 200 white people dead. Hundreds of Tuscarora were sold into slavery. Defeated, many Tuscarora migrated to upstate New York and joined the Iroquois Confederacy, now the Six Nations. But hundreds stayed behind and entered into a treaty with colonial North Carolina to set aside 56,000 acres in Bertie County for the “Indian Woods” reservation.

“I am very saddened by the consistent and unnecessary fractures and conflict among members of the various longhouses.”

— Rep. Ed Goodwin

However, many left the site as newcomers encroached on their land. Some resettled in Robeson County with members of other Native American tribes. Over the centuries, the groups mingled with each other and with white and Black residents. 

North Carolina recognized the Lumbee tribe in 1885, and Congress granted the tribe partial federal recognition in 1956. In January, President Donald Trump ordered the Department of the Interior to compile a report outlining potential paths to full federal recognition for the 55,000 Lumbee people who make up the largest Native American tribe east of the Mississippi River. 

Some Tuscarora people have enrolled in the Lumbee tribe over the years. Nearly 29 percent of residents in Robeson County live in poverty, more than double the statewide rate. Being a member of the Lumbee provides access to benefits, including help paying energy bills. 

Jacobs, 45, said his parents enrolled him in the Lumbee tribe when he was a child. But his grandparents taught him about his Tuscaroran ancestors. “There were always oral histories about Tuscarora lineage,” he said. “So there was a bit of a cultural identity crisis.” 

Jacobs said he disenrolled from the Lumbee tribe in 2009, around the time he studied his genealogy and learned once and for all that he was Tuscarora. He then joined the newly formed United Katehnuaka longhouse in Robeson County, which welcomes all Native American people regardless of tribal affiliation. (The longhouse spells its name differently from the tribe specified in HB600.) 

Katherine Magnotta, tribal chairwoman of the Tuscarora Nation of Indians of the Carolinas, said in an email to The Assembly that she opposes state recognition for the Tuscarora Indians of Kahtenuaka Territories because of their ties to the Lumbee tribe. She said Lumbee people have hijacked Tuscarora history “for money and power, leaving my people in poverty and continually fighting to maintain our history.” 

‘Mr. Tuscarora’  

Jacobs and David Rahahę́·tih Webb led organizational efforts for the Tuscarora Indians of Kahtenuaka Territories.

Goodwin met Webb, executive director of a nonprofit in Raleigh that helps children connect with nature, at the General Assembly a few years ago. Webb grew up in Florida, where his parents instilled in him an appreciation for his ancestral ties to the Tuscarora and the Meherrin, a Native American tribe in northeastern North Carolina. 

“Everybody I was working with knows I’m Tuscarora and said, ‘Oh, you’ve got to meet Mr. Tuscarora. His name is Ed Goodwin,’” said Webb, who now serves as a council member for the  Tuscarora Indians of Kahtenuaka Territories.

Last fall, Jacobs and Webb worked with members of the Maxton, Prospect, Saddletree, and United Katehnuaka longhouses to draft a “unification plan” explaining how the new government would work. Each longhouse would maintain “its own traditional, social, civic, and spiritual leadership and non-political governance.” 

The four longhouses agreed last November to participate in a grassroots committee, with two appointed members from each group. 

The tribe was set to have its first election in January, but leaders from the Maxton and Prospect longhouses pushed instead for council members to be appointed for the first year. Organizers say there was some concern the United Katehnuaka longhouse would have undue power.

But the problem wasn’t the United Katehnuaka, said Tere Locklear, who represented the Prospect longhouse. He was upset about outsiders overstepping boundaries. “We’ve had a representative and a legislative assistant dictate to us how we should govern ourselves as Tuscarora people and who we should call Tuscarora.” 

Only the Saddletree and United Katehnuaka longhouses met the deadline to sign a revised unification plan and appoint members to the council. Even so, members from every longhouse except Prospect were sworn onto the council in February as individuals, not longhouse representatives. 

Tensions continued to mount, however, as longhouse leaders decided not to participate.   

Stan Locklear, the Prospect chief, said the new group moved too quickly. “First, you have to build a foundation,” he said. “They were wanting to make decisions without even consulting the people—more like a dictatorship.” 

On’yas Locklear agreed. “Why shouldn’t they earn the respect of the people before they govern the people?” 

Cecil Hunt, who has served as the Saddletree chief since 1983, said a new government isn’t necessary because the Tuscarora Nation of North Carolina already serves as a united front. The group formed the Council of the Great in March to serve as a governing entity. 

“My point was, why would you try to organize a new government when we already had our thing going?” Hunt said. 

Jacobs said he was disappointed the longhouse chiefs opted out. 

“We were hoping that all those organizations would have come together in a unified movement with us as one government,” he said. “But unfortunately, no, which was very disheartening for us.” 

‘What the People Want’ 

Local politics have changed since Goodwin first befriended Leon Locklear. Like much of rural America, Robeson County has shifted to voting for Republican candidates. Barack Obama won the county in 2008 and 2012, and then Donald Trump won the next three presidential elections there. 

While the Tuscarora people have struggled to find a foothold, the Lumbee tribe has gained political influence. The Department of the Interior has not publicly announced a federal recognition report, but tribal leaders say they are closer than ever to the designation they’ve been pursuing for more than a century. Full recognition would give the tribe access to millions of dollars for education, health care, and other services.   

“We’ve had a representative and a legislative assistant dictate to us how we should govern ourselves as Tuscarora people and who we should call Tuscarora.”

— Tere Locklear, who represented the Prospect longhouse

The Lumbee tribe has a central government like that adopted by the Tuscarora Indians of Kahtenuaka Territories. But leaders of the Maxton, Prospect and Saddletree longhouses say they don’t want to operate like the Lumbee. They want to stick to tradition. 

“We shouldn’t be setting up like the Lumbees,” On’yas Locklear said. 

Goodwin said he has talked to On’yas Locklear at length about why a confederation of longhouses does not set the tribe up for recognition. “He’s entitled to do what he wants to,” Goodwin said. “But what they’ve been trying to do for all these years has not been working.” 

Longhouse leaders, including On’yas Locklear, agree. But what happens when traditions and politics clash? How can Goodwin make good on his promise to Leon Locklear? 

On’yas Locklear said he’s willing to keep the lines of communication open. “But at the end of the day,” he said, “it’s got to be on your terms and not theirs. It’s got to be what the people want.” 

Jacobs said the Tuscarora Indians of Kahtenuaka Territories worked hard to create a government that would act as a legislative entity and honor tradition. But concessions must be made when dealing with lawmakers. “From a strict cultural perspective, you can’t sit down at the General Assembly and do business straight from the historical and cultural perspective,” he said, “because they don’t understand it.” 

With the bill unlikely to move forward this year, Jacobs said the tribe will continue to assess its needs. He hopes the longhouse leaders will get on board and that all Tuscarora people in the state will become recognized. 

“Of course we’re optimistic,” he said. “We feel like there’s good momentum. But it’s politics, so you never know.” 

---

Sarah Nagem is the editor of The Border Belt Independent. She can be contacted at [email protected].

The Border Belt Independent, another of The Assembly‘s local partners, is a nonprofit, online newsroom that focuses on issues and challenges that affect Bladen, Columbus, Robeson, and Scotland counties. Find out more at www.borderbelt.org.