By ROBERT JUMPER
Tutiyi (Snowbird) and Clyde, N.C.
Ask around. We love our land. Or maybe we would say our Creator’s land. Land ownership is sort of a thing brought over by migrants from other countries. Indigenous peoples were more about occupation, survival, and the practicalities of living than those who came on ships with a bent toward materialism. And our occupations fit our needs, which in turn satisfied our wants, which were mostly to provide sustenance for our family and tribes, and to live in peace pursuing the simple pleasures of life: hunting, fishing, singing, dancing, storytelling, and fellowship.
Surely there had to be land battles before contact with the outside world, but those were about provision rather than ownership. It was not about entitlement. It was about need. Need to feed families and a place for them to lay their heads.
After contact, referring to the point where indigenous peoples were confronted with non-indigenous peoples, we were exposed to materialism in a way we never had before. In “Sovereign Entrepreneurs: Cherokee Small-Business Owners and the Making of Economic Sovereignty” (2019, The University of North Carolina Press), Courtney Lewis said, “The cultural mismatch theory presupposes that capitalism is incompatible or necessarily destroys indigenous culture, but it ignores (1) that capitalism is always practiced on a spectrum and is therefore malleable, and (2) that many practices under the guise of capitalism have already been shaped and repurposed by indigenous peoples and peoples globally (as in the way family ownership may constitute an alteration of Western capitalism)”.
Under Robert’s rules of interpretation, I take that to mean a variation of capitalism that existed before contact and was probably magnified or recreated by circumstances that arose because of contact. We basically adapted and assimilated those things that allowed our nation to be sustained and remain.
As a tribe, we have been fiscally successful at sustaining ourselves through multiple challenges since contact, sometimes despite ourselves. As our leaders have pointed out in the past, the way a government is operated and its objectives are quite different from business objectives. Governments require quite a bit of consensus building for decision-making and action, which is typically a slow, sometimes agonizingly slow process. Business decision-making and action require nimbleness, quick action, and the ability to change course in the motion of a transaction. To that point, this was one of the arguments made for a less restrictive Charter, as opposed to a more detailed Constitution to govern the people. It is also why the tribe opted to establish corporate LLCs for our business operations. The hope is of somehow making tribal entities move at the speed of business instead of government.
As a consequence of all the intermingling of indigenous and non-indigenous philosophies of governance, I think we have possibly lost sight of using common sense in the decisions we make as a community. Now, I don’t know if we just aren’t getting the information we need or if it’s that we have information and we feel entitled to “have it our way”. When we make decisions that cause us to be less safe, less profitable, and less comfortable because we think we want it a certain way, we tend to regret our decisions, and those decisions come with unexpected costs. And a quick side note: when an initiative is unsuccessful, the community is unlikely to know about the failure or to what extent there was a financial impact. The fear we attach to information getting into the “wrong hands” supersedes our fear of being economically blind in the community. I’m not assessing judgment. I am just saying that I believe that is the way it is.
“Seasonal gatherings, particularly at harvest time, have long been a part of Cherokee society, as described by travelers and observers of Native American culture such as John Lawson and William Bartram. At a general tribal council meeting at Cheoah in Graham County, North Carolina, in 1868, a gathering of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians gave the council permission to fix a place and days for holding a ‘national’ fair. Over 50 years would pass, however, before such a fair was formally established in 1914 and held annually.” (wcu.edu)
“During the early part of the century, logging and farming provided income and subsistence, but the tribe also turned to tourism as a source of income. The first Cherokee Indian Fall Fair, in 1914, was subsidized by the tribal council specifically to encourage tourism.” (Barbara R. Duncan & Brett H. Riggs, “Cherokee Heritage Trails Guidebook”, 2003, North Carolina Folklife Institute)
I had the honor and privilege to be a part of the team that organized and executed the Cherokee Indian Fair for the better part of a decade. In 2002, I was hired by the tribe as the media coordinator for the tribe under Chrissy Arch (thanks in no small part to the encouragement and support of Brandon Stephens). Executive Director Suzy Jones and Ugvwiyuhi (Principal Chief) Leon Jones were the economic development leadership at the time and had overseen the revamping of the tourism effort in Cherokee. It was an exciting time to be in tourism, and it was my first time being part of an event with so many moving parts. That year, and in subsequent years, it was obvious that the fairgrounds on Tsali Blvd. were simply too small a venue for the volume of local and visitor traffic that typically attended Cherokee events. That was 24 years ago.
Capacity has long been a concern for the Fair. And it was documented as far back as that initial event in 1914.
“The first fair was highly successful and exceeded Henderson’s (James Henderson, from the Bureau of Indian Affairs and one of the two men tasked by the federal government to assist the Cherokee people in producing and directing the fair) expectations, but some traditionalists were outraged over the tribal council’s appropriation of $200 (equivalent to $6729 today) to finance it. After the initial triumph, the Cherokee Fair became an annual October event and drew increasingly large crowds. By 1916, one (non-indigenous) observer claimed the event was ‘far better’ than some of the county fairs. Because the exposition had outgrown its modest facilities, the tribal council, now willing to override possible opposition, appropriated $500 (equivalent to $15,456 today) to build an exhibit hall.” (John R. Finger, “Cherokee Americans: The Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians in the Twentieth Century”, 1991, University of Nebraska Press)
Certainly, the scope of growth has been sizeable from 1914 to 2002, and even more so from 2002 to 2026. While it was not a new thought, Skooter McCoy, a decade and a half ago, proposed moving the fairgrounds from the Tsali Blvd. location to the current Acquoni Road site where the old Cherokee High School used to convene. The reason? The Cherokee Fairgrounds (many called it “Ceremonial Grounds”) had become so overcrowded during events as to have become potentially hazardous and economically unsound. Trying to navigate inadequate parking was another significant incentive to seek more unoccupied land for events like the Fair. And, I cannot say for sure, because my stint in Cherokee tourism ended in 2014, I presume that the research continued to find a suitable, contiguous piece of property to hold events of Fair size.
At the Oct. 19, 2026 Planning Board meeting, Ugvwiyuhi Hicks said, “Regarding where the centralized fair is located, I think we must logistically look at that the fair has grown substantially since it was last (at the Tsali Blvd. location). You know, the number of rides that we have, the need for parking, has all grown. Logistically, can we continue to have the full fair (at the Tsali Blvd. location)? I don’t know how exactly we do that, unless we stretch it down to the elementary site. Then do we become inefficient in how we are doing things? Because there are some infrastructure needs at the elementary site. The amount of acreage is more than double at the old high school site (compared to the Tsali Blvd site).”
Some community members desire to have the fair activities near Unity Field, where fair stickball games have been played for years. But even that area has become so congested during games that emergency services professionals are worried that helping someone with an emergency need could be hindered by their inability to reach them in a timely manner.
When in doubt, and sometimes when there is no doubt, we call for a meeting, and we plan. Then, we wait. And another election cycle occurs (you know, the ones that happen every two years?), and we talk, and we doubt, and then we call for a meeting, and we plan. And the cycle continues until someone tires of the subject and the subject matter experts are told to move forward with a plan that has rotated through the cycle multiple times.
Sean Ross, EBCI Commerce Secretary, said, “All of these things (referring to consideration of the elementary school site, Unity Field, old high school site, and the proximity of food, entertainment, stickball, and other amenities) have been considered in this (old high school) site. It is all-encompassing. There is one point of entry; our elders’ parking and the elders’ access to all these areas are considered within this space. We’ve got a gaming field there. We’ve got the midway for rides. We’ve got a stage. We’ve got green space. We’ve got multiple parking lots. We’ve got power considered. We’ve got extra transformers coming in. We’ve got all the infrastructure considered in this one space. All those things were taken into consideration through the due diligence process. And through a CEDS report, through several feedback sessions, we did get the community’s input. It was done multiple times. We are merely following those plans (exactly).”
There is an adage that goes like this: “You can please some of the people all the time. You can please all the people some of the time. But you cannot please all the people all the time”. Planning is great. Meetings are great. But if you cannot execute because of your planning and meetings continuing infinitum, the goals you are trying to achieve will sit on a shelf and get dusted off occasionally when the planning and meetings roll around again. Something to keep in mind is that we have a very limited usable land base on the Boundary. And our current discussions seem to be committing valuable space that should be productive year-round, all for the “wants” of a five-day event.
You know, maybe we should take a cue from those great philosophers, The Rolling Stones, way back in 1969. They said in song, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need”.
