If I asked you to come up with a Who’s Who of Coffee County, what names would you give? I can imagine who many of them would be. Their names are on streets, buildings, churches, scholarships, and stories of their work and donations fill editions of local media outlets. But not all of the individuals who have made Coffee County what it is today are well known. They aren’t front and center, smiling for the cameras and being quoted in the newspaper. Instead, they choose to do their work in private, serving the community behind the scenes and neither seeking nor expecting any recognition.
This is especially true in the African-American community. Throughout Coffee County’s history, some of the greatest and most influential community servants have been minorities. And yet they are often the least recognized. As this community was growing and finding its identity, the African-American community faced a set of challenges that often went unnoticed at best, purposely neglected at worst. The barriers to success — a lack of economic opportunity, diminished resources related to education, racial discrimination, and, of course, segregation — were real and formidable obstacles.
Overcoming these hurdles required determination, discipline, and a single-minded focus on beating the odds. It also needed leadership — people who were creative, compassionate, intelligent, and, at times, stubborn.
Enter Charles Ingram.
Charles Ingram took a meandering path to Coffee County. Now 96 years old, he arrived in Broxton in the late 1950s. Charles was born in Albany and graduated from Monroe High School in 1945. He obtained a bachelor’s degree from then-Albany State College in 1949, a master’s degree from Temple University in 1956, and an advanced graduate certificate from Temple in 1968.
His first teaching job was in Waycross for eight years then he moved to Broxton, where he took a job teaching at Mary Hayes School. He doesn’t remember what brought him to Broxton nor does he remember when he retired. “I can’t remember all them years,” he says, laughing.
When Charles arrived at Mary Hayes, JD Murray was the principal. Mr. Murray was eventually promoted and Charles took over as principal. This is where he emerged as a community activist, servant, and leader.
In order to truly appreciate what Charles has meant to the Broxton community, you have transport yourself back in time about 65 years and try to picture what life was like back then for African-Americans. Segregation may have officially ended in 1954 but its implementation was slow. In Broxton, the schools weren’t fully integrated until 1969.
Clergy and educators have always filled important roles in the black community. Many people could not read or write. They didn’t have transportation. Parents couldn’t help their children with schoolwork, many couldn’t get them to school, and they may not be able to feed them when they were at home. If parents couldn’t read or write, they couldn’t conduct business, read letters, or fill out paperwork. Charles often stepped in and helped families with these and other needs. He was more than a teacher or administrator; he was an advocate, a counselor, a financial advisor, and a spokesman.
Charles encouraged his teachers to be the same. He felt that the only way a teacher could truly meet the needs of the students was to see exactly how they lived at home. Before school each year, he would take his teachers around Broxton to meet their students at home. “He wanted them to see their living conditions and their family situation. He helped his teachers come up with a plan to teach the kids. He wanted them to understand what was going on at home. He knew the kids and their parents, their siblings. He cared about the students and he made sure the teachers did, too,” recalls George McIver, who was present when I met with Charles.
“He was the type of person who went all out for those kids. There wasn’t funding for a lot of activities. He saved food, had food canned, he had food frozen during the summer that he saved for his lunchroom. He fed kids. He was that kind of man,” says Oscar Street, retired principal in the Coffee County School System and one of Charles’s good friends.
The love he possessed for his students transcended race or social status. If a student was at his school, regardless of whether the student was black or white, that student belonged to him and he took care of him or her. Charles recalled a girl at Mary Hayes after integration. She was white and she had to work in a chicken house before school. When she arrived at school, she smelled like chickens. That was far from ideal and affected how well she performed at school. Charles found some clothes in her size and he would give them to her when she arrived at school. When school was over, she would change into her original clothes and go back home. When she came back to school the next day, she would have clean clothes waiting on her. “I used to see her from time to time. She remembered that into adulthood,” says Charles.
Charles believed that discipline was a primary ingredient in any formula for success. Willpower, skill, and virtue, says Charles, are keys to success — and discipline teaches all three. “Discipline was strong back then. We had a lot of hard-headed boys,” he laughs. “Now there’s not a lot of discipline and people have gone astray.”
His version of discipline wasn’t discipline for discipline’s sake. Yes, Charles could be tough. But there was always an element of love and caring with the punishment he doled out. That too was a part of the education process. “He was a disciplinarian in a way that we don’t see anymore. But he was tough because he always said that black folks have one shot to get it right. So you had to get it right the first time or you might not get another chance,” says George McIver.
As strict as Charles could be, those close to the family say he was a teddy bear compared to his late wife, Eva Wilcox Ingram. The two were married on June 6, 1951 and enjoyed 51 years together until her passing in 2002. Also a teacher, she shared his vision for service, compassion, faithfulness. And discipline. “She was tougher than he was,” recalls George, laughing. Charles chuckles, too.
More than anything, Charles wanted to see his students succeed. Their life in Broxton wasn’t easy. But it would only get more difficult as they left Mary Hayes and moved on. He wanted them to be prepared for anything life may throw at them — and for minorities in 1950s and 1960s rural Georgia, that could be a lot. And when they encountered barriers, he taught them to fight for what was right.
This is not to say that Charles and his family were immune at all from these same barriers. His son, Darryl, had the highest grade point average at Broxton High and should have been the valedictorian when he graduated. However, as the end of the school year drew near, the administration wanted to give the valedictorian honor to a white student. “He wouldn’t let up,” says Charles. “He proved he was two points ahead of the other student and he was eventually named valedictorian.”
One building in Coffee County bears Charles Ingram’s name. We have talked a little about his commitment to making sure his students were fed. He didn’t believe that students could learn if they were hungry. And at a time when resources were low and needs were high, Charles took it upon himself to feed his students — all of them. We’ve already mentioned that he saved food during the summer. But he also grew a garden — not so much for his family but for others. There was also a garden at Mary Hayes School. Charles worked that one by himself with very little help. “It needed to be done,” he says. Because of his commitment to meeting the needs of his students, the cafeteria at Broxton-Mary Hayes Elementary is The Charles Ingram Lunchroom.
It’s a nod, albeit a small one, to a man who for decades made an unquantifiable impact on the children and families of his community. When talking about Charles, Oscar Street laments why Charles didn’t receive more recognitions and promotions during his career. “He is more intelligent than most people realized he was. He was a pretty sharp guy. He came along at a time when he didn’t have much opportunity. If he had opportunity, there’s no telling where he would have gone in life. Others who were less qualified than him were promoted and paid more but he never was,” Oscar recalls.
There could be several explanations as to why this happened — or didn’t happen. I think maybe it’s because the Lord knew where Charles Ingram was needed most. It was in Broxton, a community he adopted as his own, and one he shepherded for decades. Charles remains a man of faith into his late 90s but he’s not now — nor has he ever been — timid. He fought when it was time to fight, he chose his battles carefully, and he led by example — whether it was in school, in the community, or at Little Zion Missionary Baptist Church.
“I’ve had a good life. It’s been good. I’m not sure what everyone else has thought. I’ve always tried to do what I could for anyone who came along,” he says.