黑料社入口

Ralph Vaught is a trailblazer.

He was the second Black police officer, and the first Black detective, in the Horry County Police Department.

He single-handedly integrated the Horry County jail, and later became the jail director.

And, at age 87, he's still coming to work every day at the county courthouse in Conway, which has to be some kind of record.

鈥淚 like what I do. I like the people I work with,鈥� Vaught said. "As I鈥檝e said many times, Horry County has been real good to myself and my family.鈥�

"Mr. Ralph,鈥� as he鈥檚 known, is now in charge of front desk security at the Horry County Government and Justice Center in Conway, keeping weapons and contraband out of the courtrooms. It鈥檚 just like a TSA airport checkpoint, only you don鈥檛 have to take off your shoes.

Sheriff Phillip Thompson hired Vaught after first winning the election in 2001. Vaught had been Thompson鈥檚 supervisor when the future sheriff joined the HCPD in 1980.

Vaught retired from the jail in 1999, and Thompson started recruiting him to handle security in the courthouse after taking office.

Vaught said he came home from eating out one night, and Thompson was sitting outside his house. He wouldn鈥檛 take no for an answer.

鈥淗e needed to get back to work, and I needed his experience,鈥� Thompson said, noting Vaught helped design the holding cells in the new county courthouse.

Thompson said Vaught is popular with the courthouse staff. He鈥檚 known for telling a good story, giving good advice, and dressing impeccably. He works three hours a day.

鈥淧eople gravitate to Ralph. He鈥檚 a real asset to the sheriff鈥檚 office, and has been for a long time,鈥� Thompson said.

Vaught, who was born in Wampee and lives in Conway, got his introduction to law enforcement in the U.S. Air Force in 1956, serving four years as a military police officer.

Then he moved to New York City in the 1960s with his wife and the love of his life, Marva, who passed in 2013. She worked as a telephone operator; he worked for a furniture company and earned a certificate in speech and enunciation to pursue a career as a radio disc jockey.

When Vaught鈥檚 dad died, leaving his mother home alone, she convinced the couple to return to Horry County. Vaught worked as a bellman, and a DJ at WVOE in Chadbourn, just across the border in Columbia County, North Carolina.

He hosted spiritual and blues programs, read the news, wrote and produced the ads.

鈥淲e鈥檇 do everything,鈥� Vaught said. 鈥淚 had a real good voice at the time.鈥�

Meanwhile, his friend and fellow MP Jobe Blain, the first Black officer in the HCPD, was encouraging Vaught to leverage his experience in the military and apply for the police force.

It took three years of asking for a badge, and eventually a call from a state senator on his behalf, for Vaught to finally land the job in 1973. Vaught and Blain became partners.

Jim Crow still lingered in the county, and in the county police department, in the early 1970s. 鈥淲e couldn鈥檛 arrest white people until 1977,鈥� Vaught recalled in an interview, citing HCPD policy for Blain and Vaught.

The pair were assigned to handle all of the calls from the Black communities, exclusively.

鈥淎nything that happened in a Black neighborhood, he and I had to go,鈥� Vaught said.

That often meant working seven days a week at a job that had no time clock. Vaught recalls getting home late, taking his shoes off, getting a phone call, and heading out again.

Vaught said he practiced 鈥減olicing鈥� like the word is used in the military 鈥� to clean up an area or a mess. If the mess could be cleaned up without arrests, Vaught made it happen.

鈥淚 took more people home than I took to jail,鈥� he said.

Vaught said when he and Blain finally got the green light to arrest any and all criminals, they experienced racism from some of the whites they detained. 鈥淲e had some problems, but not problems we couldn鈥檛 solve.鈥�

About the same time, Vaught brought a rapid end to segregation in the county jail, then in downtown Conway.

Vaught was handling a shift as the jailer, and a white man was brought in drunk. Vaught, figuring all intoxicated men are created equal, put him in the drunk tank with some Black prisoners, while past practice called for separation.

鈥淭he chief said not one word to me about it,鈥� Vaught said. And from that day on, the jail was desegregated.

Vaught was eventually named jail director, and helped with the design of the current J. Reuben Long Detention Center. It was built in 1989, a decade before the sheriff鈥檚 office took over jail operations from the county police.

While he never spent a night in jail as a prisoner, Vaught slept at J. Reuben before it opened, just to see what it was like.

鈥淭hat was a long, long night,鈥� he said.