Generations of Care: James and Mary Locklear’s Story During Native American Heritage Month

James and Mary Locklear

Generations of Care: James and Mary Locklear’s Story During Native American Heritage Month 

When you think about what connects families across generations, a hospital might not be the first thing that comes to mind. But in small, rural communities, hospitals often serve as the backdrop for life’s most defining moments—where we celebrate our first hellos and share our hardest goodbyes. Scotland Memorial Hospital has quietly been that thread for countless families, including James and Mary Locklear. 

A Legacy Rooted in History 

James Locklear, owner and editor of Native Visions newspaper, grew up hearing stories of a time when healthcare wasn’t accessible to everyone. In the 1940s, many Native American and African American families had no choice but to deliver babies at home. James’ mother, Dorothy Woods Locklear, was born in 1947 in a farmhouse near Red Springs, delivered by his great-aunt, Tilly McMillian Locklear, a midwife whose training remains unknown. Scotland Memorial Hospital had only been open for a year then, but for Dorothy, home was the only option for her mother. 

Fast forward to 1967—James was born at Scotland Memorial during the early days of integration. His mother shared a hospital room with another mom whose son was born just days apart. Those two boys—one Native American, one white—would grow up as lifelong friends. Both were delivered by Dr. Murdoch McKeithen, a name many in the community still remember. 

A Love Story and a Test of Faith 

James and Mary met in high school in the 1980s. James knew Mary was “the one,” but life took him down a difficult path for 11 years before he found sobriety. Mary stood by him through that journey, and in 1996, they married. Four years later, they were expecting their first child—a moment that would test their faith and resilience. 

At just 24 weeks, Mary suffered a placental abruption. Alone in her kitchen, she crawled to the phone to call James, who immediately dialed 911. As the ambulance sped toward Scotland Memorial, James recalls seeing Dr. Linda Mitchell-Frye running across the parking lot, her white coat billowing like a cape. “She became a hero that day,” James says. 

The odds were grim—50/50 for both mother and baby. Mary remembers the kindness of the staff: “If this was going to be my last time on earth, at least everyone was nice.” She prayed silently before surgery, her lips moving. A student asked what she was doing, and Dr. Mitchell-Frye replied, “She’s praying.” That simple recognition meant everything to Mary. 

The baby, Vincea, was transferred to a nearby neonatal hospital while Mary stayed behind to recover. For three sleepless nights, Mary prayed until a voice told her, “Let go and let God.” From that moment, peace replaced fear. 

A Miracle and a New Chapter 

Vincea’s fight was far from over—lung complications, a hole in her heart, eight blood transfusions, and moments where her tiny body “bottomed out.” A pastor prayed over her, naming conditions the doctors hadn’t yet shared, and promised, “When you get through this, the end result will be good.” 

James and Mary brought Vincea home connected to a heart monitor, trained to thump her foot when her heart stopped. They prayed for guidance, and when doctors urged surgery, something told Mary to wait. On a routine visit, doctors at the Purcell Clinic couldn’t hear the hole in her heart. Even Duke confirmed—it had closed. “This is a miracle,” they said. 

Today, Vincea Locklear-Reed is a black belt instructor and seven-time champion. She’s strong, thriving, and now a mother herself. 

Full Circle 

When Vincea became pregnant, Mary suggested she see the same doctor who saved her life. At Scotland’s Women’s Health Center of the Carolinas, Vincea found LaTonya Armstrong, CNM, and yes—Dr. Mitchell-Frye was still part of the care team. Two healthy babies later, Mary reflects: “Twenty-five years ago, a doctor who saved her life is still part of her story.” 

From Dorothy’s home birth in 1947 to Vincea’s babies born at Scotland, this family’s journey spans generations of care. “From the time you walk in, they’re smiling, talking to you. They make you feel like family,” Mary says. “That’s why I’ll tell my granddaughter—this is where you need to go.” 

James recalls a time when Scotland Health had just one Native American physician. Today, 30 providers serve on its roster—a powerful testament to progress. In less than a century, we’ve moved from an era when care was out of reach for many to a time when Native doctors are healing their own communities. 

James and Mary’s grandchildren Cozy Jane and Jonathan Thomas were born at Scotland Memorial Hospital, continuing a legacy that began in a small farmhouse decades ago. For the Locklears, and for so many families, Scotland Memorial isn’t just a hospital—it’s a part of their story.