The Creators of N.C

Bottling the Past

In Robeson County, where the grapes grow sweet, a Lumbee-owned winer y thrives

By Wiley Cash • Photogr a

Phs

By M

allory Cash

Two legends

p e r s i s t i n N o r t h C a r o

l i n a , b o t h o f w h i c h h a v e s p r e a d l i k e t w i n i n g v i n e s f r o m R o a n o k e I s l a n d w e s t w a r d a c r o s s t h e s t a t e . O n e l e g e n d i s a b o u t g r a p e s , t h e o t h e r i s a b o u t t h e L o s t C o l o n y, a n d b o t h c o n v e r g e i n R o b e s o n C o u n t y.

First, the legend of grapes: It is believed that when British explorers sent by Sir Walter R aleigh arrived on Roanoke Island in 1584, they were greeted by the sweet aroma of muscadine grapes hanging ripe on the vines. Centuries later, the “Mother Vine,” which is believed to be the oldest known grapevine in the United States at 400 years old, is still thriving on the Outer Banks, roughly t wo feet thick at its base and covering nearly a half-acre.

T he second legend is the legend of the L ost Colony. Most Nor th Carolinians know that R aleigh ’s 1587 expedition, led by John W hite, disappeared while W hite was mak ing a return trip to England for supplies. T hree years later, when W hite came back to the colony, he discovered that nothing had been lef t behind aside f rom the word CROATOAN, which was etched into a gate, and the letters CRO that had been car ved into a tree. W hat happened to these British colo

nists? Among the many theories, one is that the settlers moved inland and bef riended Native American tribes, eventually intermarr ying and joining the vast net work of Native people who had been living in the region for centuries before W hite settlers arrived. Many believe that descendants of the L ost Colony moved as far inland as present day Robeson Count y, eventually calling themselves Lumbee in honor of the Lumber (or Lumbee) R iver. Perhaps that would explain why the Lumbee Indians, the largest tribe east of the Mississippi R iver with a population of over 70,000, have always spoken English as their common lang uage.

Not so, writes Malinda Maynor L ower y, associate professor of histor y and director of the Center for the Study of the American South at UNC - Chapel Hill, who is herself a Lumbee Indian who was born in Robeson Count y. In her book, The Lumbee Indians: An American Struggle, L ower y writes, “T he Lumbees are descendants of the dozens of tribes in that territor y, as well as of f ree European and enslaved Af rican settlers who lived in what became their core homeland.”

According to L ower y, the Lumbee’s use of English as their common lang uage is not due to their being founded by the members of the L ost Colony, but was more a matter of convenience as a mixture of tribal communities began to coalesce in the area af ter migrating to escape disease, warfare and slaver y. Native people have lived in what is now

Robeson Count y for 13,000 years, long before Sir Walter R aleigh had his earliest notions of empire.

If the L ost Colony cannot explain the existence of the Lumbee Indians in Robeson Count y, it probably cannot explain the west ward expansion of the muscadine grape either. According to the Nor th Carolina Muscadine Grape Association, “in the early 1800s, Nor th Carolina was a national leader in wine production and in 1840 was the nation’s top wine producer, with an industr y built entirely on muscadine grapes.” T here are currently 200 licensed wineries in Nor th Carolina, generating $375 million each year in wages and $89 million in state ta xes.

One of the 200 licensed wineries is L ock lear Vineyard and Winer y in Ma xton, N.C. For the past 15 years, Charlie L ock lear and his t wo sons, Charlie Jr. and Dar yl, proud members of the Lumbee tribe, have been growing muscadine grapes and mak ing a plethora of wines on the land that has belonged to the family for generations. T he elder Charlie, who was born in 1942 and grew up farming tobacco, corn, cotton and “a little bit of hay” with his family, star ted mak ing wine as a hobby. “I just loved to do it,” he says on one bright day in early fall, only a few weeks af ter the vines have been har vested.

T he operation is tightly r un, pr imar ily by family and close family f r iends, w ith ever y thing f rom the g row ing to the har vesting to the bot tling happening on the L ock lears’ proper t y, where an old bar n has been conver ted into a w iner y that feat ures a tasting room and retail space. Outside, the land stretches for miles. Charlie, whose likeness appears on a ll of L ock lear Winer y’s bot tles, remembers a time when the family was no less tied to the land, but simply had more land to tie themselves to. His g reat-g randfather ow ned 3,0 0 0 acres, and his g randfather came to ow n and far m roughly 30 0. “If you’re not far ming the big way now, you just can’t make it,” Charlie says, refer r ing to the boom and bust of the ag r ibusiness c ycle that of ten finds far mers rely ing on huge y ields to pay dow n debts for machiner y and land. Now, the L ock lears ow n 70 acres of land, considerably less than in the past, but the land is put to good use, much of it compr ised of the v ineyard where t wo var iations of muscadine g rapes — Noble and Carlos — are g row n. T he Noble muscadine is red, the w ine sweet yet cr isp. T he Carlos is a white g rape, resulting in w ine w ith a sweeter, smoother finish.

“I like to experiment with dif ferent ways to make wine,” Charlie says. “If you make a good product that tastes good, people are going to buy it.” And people have bought it, and word of the sweet wine f rom Robeson Count y continues to spread. W hile their sales are highest in the local market, L ock lear wines are sold throughout Eastern Nor th Carolina, across the Piedmont and into the western par t of the state. T he winer y now employs more people than ever before.

Robeson Count y can be a conser vative place, and one has to won-

der what the locals thought when Charlie L ock lear decided to turn his wine-mak ing hobby into a family business. “Most people embraced it,” he says. “Probably 90 percent of them. You’re never going to get 100 percent on nothing.” But folks will go easy on a local boy, especially when the family name is nearly as old as the land itself. A long with other surnames — Oxendine, Chavis, Dial, L ower y or L owr y or L owrie among them — L ock lears have a long histor y in the region, and Charlie has the roots to prove it.

“I was born here,” he says, “and in 1948 we went straight across the road and built a house. And when I got married in 1964, we remodeled this house, which was my grandfather’s house, and we’ve been here ever since.”

L ock lear is a prominent name, he continues, and there are a lot of them.

“Our ancestors were here, and we were people with high education and businesses. We’re just continuing to promote the family tree, businesswise.”

And what does it mean to Charlie L ock lear to work this land and create a family business f rom it?

“Well, I hope it’s an encouragement to Lumbees,” he says. “And I hope it’s an encouragement to W hites and Blacks too: If you want to achieve something, you can achieve it. Don’t let other people tell you what to do. It’s like target practice: If you shoot at it long enough, you’ll hit it.”

Af ter centuries of his people being on this land, it’s clear that Charlie’s aim is prett y good. OH

Wiley Cash and his photographer wife, Mallory, live in Wilming ton, N.C. His latest novel, T he L ast Ballad, is available wherever books are sold.