Dunn, Satcher said in 1986, possessed “a rare kind of dedication and devotion to young people.”
That dedication and devotion to young people made Calhoun County a better place — for the children he taught, for the racial harmony he sought during the 1960s, and for the adults he later represented as a fixture on the Calhoun County Commission.
Dunn’s passing Tuesday filled the county with sadness, and rightly so. He is irreplaceable. Alabama has lost a great man of immeasurable influence, a leader of men and a counselor to generations.
If only there were more people like Pappy.
In this sense, join us in considering Calhoun County fortunate; fate brought us together. A Georgian by birth, Dunn came here for work as a teacher and coach at Calhoun County Training School. After serving in the U.S. Army in World War II, he returned here — and stayed at the school, mostly as its principal, until his retirement from public schools at age 68.
Satcher, a former Dunn student, is one of the legions of people who offer their former teacher and mentor immense credit. He was polite to a fault, gracious to all. Years ago, Satcher said Dunn “believed in us and wanted us to believe in ourselves. That kind of thing makes a difference in your life. You never get over it.”
Dunn taught during segregation, when every face before him resembled his. He taught during and after the desegregation of the county’s schools, becoming a voice of harmony during a time fraught with discord and distrust. He was a peacemaker, his admirers often said.
If only there were more people like Pappy.
It’s odd to think of today, but there was a time in Dunn’s life when he wanted to be an FBI agent. Judge it as the folly of his youth, the ambitions of a young man, and thank the heavens that didn’t happen.
Dunn might have made a fine G-man, but that early career aspiration would have robbed Calhoun County of more than 70 years of public service in education and politics. Can you imagine the fate of the students at Calhoun County Training School or the performance of the county commission had Dunn not decided a different career path?
“He is the kind of guy that can walk with kings and never lose the common touch,” Leonard Wills, a friend of Dunn’s, told The Star years ago. That strikes us as an appropriate description of Dunn’s time on the county commission, an elected body normally devoid of the worst kinds of political turmoil.
In these last years of Dunn’s life, we’d like to think it was Dunn’s high standard that set the tone for the council’s decorum and camaraderie, if not its effectiveness. How unseemly it would be for a fellow politician to act like a fool in Dunn’s presence.
Like men themselves, a man’s legacy can be simple or complex. In the purest sense, Dunn’s is couched in one overriding theme: fairness and generosity to all.
If only there were more people like Pappy.
