Roanoke Electric Breaks Through Barriers

This small North Carolina co-op makes history as it opens the doors of leadership to blacks

        Last December, one of the worst ice storms in recent history struck several Eastern states. In North Carolina alone, nearly 40,000 co-op customers spent Christmas without power.
        Among the hardest hit areas in the state was the territory served by the Roanoke Electric Cooperative in northern North Carolina, where 3,000 residents had no electricity. For three long, hard days, from December 23-26, co-op manager Curtis Wynn, his office staff and his line crews scrambled round the clock to repair the damage caused to major circuits and a substation by ice-laden power lines and trees.
        While residents pulled out their candles and flashlights, Wynn and his employees sacrificed their holidays to restore power as quickly as possible. By Saturday afternoon, the day after Christmas, the lights were on for all of the co-op's members.
        For Wynn, the storm had been reminiscent of the power outages he had experienced with hurricanes when working for a Florida electric cooperative. It was also symbolic of his tenacity and ability to overcome obstacles in order to obtain his goals, including the cooperative position he now holds.

        Wynn grew up in a poor family, one of 10 children. He worked his way through college and earned a business degree. His resume includes nearly 20 years of progressive experience at electric cooperatives. He has a wife and children. But unlike any other chief executive officer among U.S. electric co-ops, Wynn is black.
        In an industry that counts few blacks in leadership positions, Wynn is the first black CEO of an electric co-op in North Carolina, and perhaps the only black CEO of a rural utility in the nation.
        Roanoke Electric is also the only known electric association among the nation's roughly 1,000 electric co-ops to have - not just a black CEO - but, concurrently, a black board president and a black majority of directors.
        How did this small rural association, which ranks 21st in size among North Carolina's 28 electric co-ops and serves four of the poorest counties in the state, achieve this diversity in its leadership?
        "The credit for this goes to the people of this area who have struggled to provide opportunities for minorities," says Roanoke Electric's Marshall Cherry, manager of member services and marketing. Cherry himself is the only black in North Carolina to hold that title at an electric co-op, and only the second at Roanoke Electric.
        Based in the town of Rich Square, N.C., Roanoke Electric counts 13,800 members, 55 percent of whom are black, and nearly all of whom are dependent on agriculture for their living. They raise tobacco, peanuts, corn and some cotton, across a seven-county area in northern North Carolina.
        Named for the nearby Roanoke River, the co-op was formed in 1938 to provide electricity to area residents. There were 317 members when Roanoke Electric first energized its original 56 miles of line in May 1939. The co-op's distribution system has now expanded to more than 2,000 miles of line. Today, 95 percent of Roanoke Electric's demand, or "load," is residential.
        As a co-op, it takes membership votes to put a board in place. And by that reckoning, the members of Roanoke Electric are responsible for making their co-op the first in the state to put blacks in key leadership positions.
        But Wynn is even more specific. "It's all because of the vision of Matthew Grant," he says.

        At 80, Grant has seen change of almost every kind sweep his North Carolina homeland. Born poor, Grant grew up on a farm in Northampton County, not far from where he lives today. When he was six, his father died. His mother, says Grant, remarried "a good man" who helped pull the family through the Depression. When World War II broke out, Grant went to work in the shipyards of Virginia. He married and, after the War, returned home to farm. He became a member of Roanoke Electric in 1947.
        But Grant wasn't happy with what he saw. Blacks were almost never hired at Roanoke Electric. "The janitor was black," Grant says. Black members, who made up the majority of the county, were not always treated well. "If you had a problem with your electricity or your bill, you were talked to like you were nothing," Grant says.
        But through the 1950s and 1960s, as the civil rights movement spread, the black members of Roanoke Electric began to object more openly to the way they were treated and to having no voice in their association.
        "In March 1969, due to pressure from the membership, the board appointed Rascoe Gilliam and me to serve as directors," says Grant. "At the annual meeting a few months later, we were voted in by the membership."
        The two men had become the first black board members of any electric cooperative in North Carolina. But even then, Grant felt he had little power. "The other board members weren't rude, but I had no real say-so until we finally got a black majority," Grant says. "It took more than 20 years to get to that place."
        As other board members served out their terms or died, Grant worked hard to encourage more black members to run for the board. "I'd tell them that the board is what makes the policies of the co-op," Grant says. "Once you're on the board, you can have some say-so. You'll be able not only to get to know the general manager but you'll be able to vote in the one that you think best."
        Finding black co-op members to run for the board wasn't easy, Grant found. "So many of them had been taught that their vote just didn't count," he says.
        But by 1991, Roanoke Electric's board had a black majority. Five of its nine directors were black. In 1993, Grant was elected board president. "My first goal as president was to get more jobs for blacks at our co-op," he says. Well aware that the board doesn't hire the co-op's employees, Grant looked for ways to open doors for blacks. Gradually, more blacks began to fill better-paying jobs at the co-op.
        And then an even greater opportunity arose. Roanoke Electric's general manager announced his plans to retire. It was the board's responsibility to hire a new manager. And, just maybe, Grant thought, it was a chance to open the door to a black candidate.


Serviceman Bill Parker was one of many Roanoke co-op employees who worked round the clock to restore power to customers when North Carolina was hit by one of the worst ice storms of the century last winter. Photo courtesy Roanoke Electric Cooperative	Curtis Wynn and Line Superintendent Gordon Ray take a reading at one of the co-op's newest electrical substations.

        Five hundred miles away, at an electric cooperative in Florida, Wynn had reached the lowest point of his career. For 17 years, he had worked at the company, starting as a truck washer while still in high school. He had risen through several positions to become vice president of marketing and member services. He reported directly to the CEO.
        But when the CEO's position became open in 1997, Wynn says he received only a perfunctory first interview. "I was given no official reason except that someone else was more qualified than I," says Wynn. "I didn't buy that."
        Only 34, Wynn began to ponder his life and future career. Then Wynn got a phone call from a friend in Atlanta, who told him about the CEO opening at Roanoke Electric. "I had no intentions of applying for it," says Wynn. "I saw those ads all the time."
        But his friend, who is white, insisted that Wynn look into Roanoke Electric. The friend told Wynn about Roanoke Electric's black-majority board, and that it was rumored black applicants might have a chance. "He saw opportunity for me at Roanoke Electric," Wynn says. "The more I inquired, the better I felt about what was happening at Roanoke."
        Once again, Wynn got only one interview. But this time, the outcome was much different. Two hours after the interview, Roanoke Electric extended an offer to Wynn. He accepted, and began managing the co-op on Oct. 13, 1997.
        "This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and one that I never imagined would become a reality," Wynn says. He praises Roanoke Electric's diverse board for giving him a fair chance to compete for the position. "I was chosen based on my merits and abilities, nothing else."
        Roanoke's board had interviewed both white and black candidates. "But Curtis was the one with the best resume," says Grant. "He was the one we liked the best."

Harold Miller and students in his Environmental Science and Electric Vehicle Technology class at Northampton county High School East celebrate another winning performance by an electric-powered car built by students at the school. The car runs on 16, 6-volt batteries, which are energized by a solar-powered charger provided by Roanoke Electric Cooperative. The school hosts an electric car race open to all schools every October (for more information, call Miller at (252) 585-0627).

North Carolinians - such as Linfent Rose (top) and Terrica Binson- throughout Roanoke's service territory count on their cooperative to deliver quality service.

        Wynn is not only the first black CEO at an electric co-op but, at 35, is one of the youngest. He has been described as eager, aggressive and knowledgeable. Already, Wynn has begun implementing changes he thinks are necessary to bring progress to Roanoke Electric, its members and its 57 employees. He has worked to modernize the co-op's computer network system and to boost staff development.
        "We have an excellent group of employees who are eager to move our organization into the next century," he says. "They have expanded their horizons to better serve our members."
    With an eye on energy deregulation, Wynn has begun exploring how the co-op might diversify into other products and services, such as selling propane gas through a joint venture. As an energy services provider, Roanoke Electric might one day become an Internet Service Provider or sell home security systems. "We're considering different approaches," Wynn says."
        Wynn is also trying to get local youths to take advantage of opportunities, such as Rural Electric Youth Tours and scholarships, which can show them the opportunities that lie outside of their immediate environment. To co-op members, Wynn stresses the importance of attending meetings, of joining committees, of running for various positions. "If you're not in that group of decision makers, you never know about the opportunities and possibilities," he says.
        Aware of the impoverished economic base in Roanoke Electric's service area, Wynn established an economic development department at the co-op. "We're trying, through various loans and grants that are available, to bring more industry and jobs to this area," says Wynn.
        "We're trying to make a big difference in this community," he adds. "We want to be more than an electric company that collects from people who can barely pay their bills. We want to make Roanoke Electric a huge, visible giant in the community we serve by giving back as much as we can."
        The leadership Wynn provided in dealing with the ravages of the ice storm last December is just one example of how the co-op's new manager is fulfilling the promise the board sees in him. "Curtis is doing a tremendous job of leading this organization into the next millennium," says Grant, "and everyone who works for us is proud that we found him."
        If there was ever a high point in Wynn's life, it's now, he says, "career-wise, family-wise, spiritually."
        And if Roanoke Electric ever had a finer hour, it would be hard for people like Matthew Grant and Marshall Cherry to know when that might have been. They are convinced that their co-op shines like a beacon, offering proof that a qualified individual such as Wynn can succeed when given a chance, and sending hope that opportunities do exist for minorities in the rural electric industry.