CARLTON FLETCHER: John Culbreath … Heaven’s gain is Albany’s loss

It’s the fire in the eyes, the lines on the hand, It’s the things you understand. That’s the measure of a man.

— Elton John

Like a very large portion of Albany and southwest Georgia, I am mourning today the loss of former Dougherty County School System Superintendent John Culbreath.

Dr. Culbreath passed away Tuesday at age 77. And while most would agree that almost eight decades of living constitutes a good and well-lived life, I can’t help but feel that Dr. Culbreath is among those few people who actually left us way too soon, even at 77.

He was that kind of person.

Certainly there are others more qualified to eulogize Dr. Culbreath. His family, close friends, co-workers, fellow members of the various boards on which he served, his Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity brothers, and the many students and teachers he influenced along the way are more deserving.

You hear people say “No one ever said a bad thing about him or her” when they’re talking about a dearly departed one. That’s usually an exaggeration, but it could be said of Dr. Culbreath with small chance of argument.

A big man with a big voice, the late school superintendent might easily have been an intimidating presence. But it’s hard to be intimidated by someone whose smile is so inviting and genuine.

A lot was made about Dr. Culbreath being the first black schools superintendent in Dougherty County. And, yes, those kinds of things matter in places like this, places with a history of racial intolerance. But those who knew him, those who worked with him and for him, knew that while he accepted the mantle with a measure of pride, he was too busy trying to take care of every student, every teacher, every administrator, every staff member in the system to focus too long on such accolades.

While he was a lauded leader of the local school system — praised by those who worked for him and those on the outside looking in — Dr. Culbreath may have had even more of an impact on this region after he stepped down from his superintendent’s post. There was not a more charitable giver or a more involved person in the community.

Dr. Culbreath served on the Phoebe Putney Memorial Hospital Board, the Albany Area Chamber of Commerce, the Albany State University (his alma mater) Foundation and other significant agencies and organizations in the community. And he didn’t just take part in these organizations to get attention, to feed his ego. When he was on board, he worked, did all he could to make these organizations better.

Maybe Dr. Culbreath’s greatest work, though, was with the Alphas, whose local alumni chapter is one of the most active and one of the most beneficial to the region. When that organization’s leading men took a group of middle school boys off for a weekend to teach them the reality of their budding sexuality, rather than having these kids hear such things on the playground, leading to an alarming amount of disinformation that in turn led to a high rate of unwanted pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases, Dr. Culbreath was always on board, eager to educate youngsters about matters many parents often avoided.

Plus, Dr. Culbreath often supplied his significant influence and monetary donations to keep young students involved in the Go to High School, Go to College initiative, a national Alpha program aimed at keeping kids hanging in the balance between continuing their education and dropping out for the street life that is a plague in the region, helping keep many such students on a path to a productive life.

It was hard to be around Dr. Culbreath and not laugh. He always had a joke to tell and was fond of telling country comedian Jerry Clower’s stories, which he’d share with the same inflections and enthusiasm as the original joke-teller.

Yes, people much more qualified and erudite than I will talk about the life of John Culbreath over the next several days. They’ll talk about the many wonderful things he accomplished in his life, and they’ll note that we are a lesser community without him.

Me, I’ll remember the personal conversations we had, about serious topics and about things that made us laugh. And what I’ll miss most about him is that electric smile that lit up any room he entered.

Email Carlton Fletcher at [email protected].