The Lumbee Indians of Lumberton North Carolina, are a largely Caucasian tribe that may be descended from survivors of the Roanoke Colony. A small community of Lumbees have traditionally lived in the Butchers Hill section of East Baltimore.
1970s Legacy Brawl
This was on a construction site, some kind of apartment complex town home complex.
It was some kind of fight over money. A brother and his friend were going at it and the other brother drove his car into the friend, into a block wall, on the construction site and broke his legs. At work, on the construction site, running over a dude with a car. These were all three Lumbee Indians.
The two brothers start brawling and it led to the other one having the eye gouged out of his head, a guy crying with broken legs, a guy with his eye ripped out—they were getting pried apart.
Heather
The Lumbee Indians bring their women out to work and have then sweep up and clean and so forth. Her name was Heather, she was built like Jennifer Lopez but as an ugly woman. She had a face like a pit bull. I could put my whole fist between her eyes. She could drink like a fish, alcohol, drugs, she could put it away. She talks me into driving her home one day and she buys a couple of forty ounces and a fifth of Notty Head Gin. She’s priming the pump. In a minute and half she drinks the whole forty ounce. Were driving down I-83. We’re driving down from York Road and she’s already guzzling this fifth of gin and we ended up at Mister Joe’s at Highland and Baltimore.
I took Heather there and we get drunk and wind up fucking. She was ugly but she had a great body, like Jennifer Lopez, nice hips, this fat ass, not real big titties, but they were nice. But her face, good night! She really had a pit bull face—like I was fucking Kujo. She could out drink, damn near out work me and probably out fight me. She would always buy us some booze on the way home and we’d end up in Club Stables or Mister Joes or one of those bars down there in Highland Town. She was a tough fucking bitch. Her eyes were so far apart I think I could fit my whole fist between them eyes. But when you get them beer googles on.
It was an interesting fact that I was at your store, Bir-Rite [that the author managed during the period], and she was chimping out because they wouldn’t cash a check for her. So I took her down a place to cash it and she wanted to take me out drinking, but I was married so I had to decline. She could drink like a fish, could put it away.
A lot of those Lumbee Indians were like that. She wouldn’t take shit off of no one, man or woman. If you gave her shit it was fight time for her. She didn’t give a shit. I never seen her hit anybody. She was an aggressive person. She’d back people down on the job site. Men were like, and I really want to be fist fighting with this bitch? And just move on. I did hear stories from some of the people that knew her, about her fighting in allies in Highland Town.
Thriving in Bad Places
link jameslafond.blogspot.com