By Jen Aronoff, The Associated Press
CHARLOTTE, N.C. (AP) - Her name was Carrie Cole. But to generations of Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department officers she was simply “Miss Carrie.”
For more than 20 years, she served home-cooked Sunday dinner - and Monday leftovers - to any police officer willing to stop by her modest home on Mathis Drive in west Charlotte. Hundreds did. Now, they mourn her as one of their own.
Cole, 84, died from heart ailments around 10:30 p.m. Dec. 22 at Presbyterian Hospital in Charlotte, after months of declining health and over two weeks in the hospital.
She was born in Bennettsville, S.C., where she later worked 13 years in a textile mill. Around 30 years ago, she came to Charlotte to take care of her ailing parents. When they died, she stayed.
No one is quite sure why Cole was so devoted to the police, Ann Lippard, one of her two daughters, said Thursday. But Lippard believes it originated when her mother worked third shift at the old Steak and Egg Restaurant on Wilkinson Boulevard. Cole began to sneak special homemade dishes to her favorite officers - until her boss discovered her. Eventually, she decided to host meals at her home instead.
What began with just a few officers turned into a CMPD institution, a required stop for incoming chiefs and rookie cops alike.
“She cooked all the home cookin’ stuff,” said Capt. Michelle Hummel, who remembers going to a house so crowded with officers that many had to wait in the living room for a seat at the table to open up.
“She cooked the biscuits and the fried chicken and collard greens and the green beans,” Hummel said. “And did I say biscuits? She cooked the best biscuits in the world.”
Although “Miss Carrie” wouldn’t accept any money for her meals, officers discovered other ways to show their appreciation.
Cole kept a “cuss cup” in the house. Sometimes, Hummel said, officers would slip an extra “damn” into their conversation so they could have an excuse to pay for their meals - and Cole charged extra for more egregious swear words.
“She was pretty much like a second mother,” said Capt. Bruce Bellamy, who met Cole when he joined the department in 1991. “Going to her house was like going home. It was like having a meal with your family.”
The officers were also like family to Cole, who avidly listened to a scanner officers bought her, attended all major police functions and memorials, and had a license plate reading “Signal 8" - police code for a food break - according to Capt. Vicki Foster, who knew Cole for 15 years.
“She treated all of us equally, and rank never was a factor to her,” said Officer Darrin White, who fondly recalls taking former Chief Dennis Nowicki to Cole’s.
Lippard concurs. “Mother was not afraid to befriend anybody,” she said.
Indeed, Cole’s notable pals included Charlotte Mayor Pat McCrory, who had knee surgery at the same time she did, and Wendy’s founder Dave Thomas, who once came to her house to eat and helped raise funds for her diabetic granddaughter’s kidney and pancreas transplants.
Cole’s home was decked out with police memorabilia, including police ornaments, blue and white Christmas lights, a giant frame full of officers’ pictures, a police blanket, and a blue light the officers gave her and nicknamed “the Kmart special.” All of it will go to the police academy, according to Lippard.
As Cole’s health deteriorated, she was no longer able to cook the meals she once did. Officers still dropped by to chat and bring her gifts, but it wasn’t quite the same.
“When it came to the point where she couldn’t do any more cooking, I just think that was the absolute end,” Lippard said. “It was the most hurtful thing she ever went through.”
On Monday, police cars lined up in front of Cole’s house headed to the cemetery to say goodbye. Her funeral included the playing of bagpipes, a police honor guard and a performance of “Taps.”
Police officers saluted her hearse as it passed the intersections on the way to the burial, where Cole was laid to rest in a police uniform.