By Sandy Wells
Some identities stick, outshining everything before and after.
He's held lots of titles: Alcohol Beverage Control Commissioner. Deputy Security Director, West Virginia Lottery. Supervisor, West Virginia Juvenile Services. Even (get this) Security Director, T.D. Jakes Ministries in Dallas.
He wore many hats as a city police officer. Beat cop. Detective. Juvenile investigations. Spokesman. Vice Squad. Drug Unit (he helped start that).
But no title defines him more than his reign as Charleston's first African-American police chief.
Mention Dallas Staples, and that's the role people remember.
Appointed in 1991 by Mayor Kent Hall, he made a lasting name for himself as a champion of hands-on community policing. He established Neighborhood Assistance Officers, put police officers on bikes and horses and beefed up foot patrols to promote a high-profile police presence and personal interaction with citizens.
Probably nothing about his tenure stands out more in the public eye than the horse patrols. An accomplished equestrian, he formed the mounted patrol with private contributions from civic leaders. Business contacts established during downtown duty led to donations for the bike patrol.
At 67, retired since 2014, he hasn't relinquished his role as a voice for public safety. He keeps his soapbox handy, ready to sound off, politely but passionately, on drug abuse, gun control and other life-altering issues that concern him.
"I grew up right here on Oakridge Drive. The house next door all the way up the street was all family. My great-grandfather purchased this tract and divided it into lots for his children.
"We were the only blacks in this end of Oakridge. We had a lot of family and friends on Wertz Avenue.
"My dad worked for the Department of Motor Vehicles and for eight or nine years was a deputy in the Kanawha County Sheriff's Department. My mom did a lot of day work but eventually retired from the county assessor's office.
"She was the disciplinarian for us. My dad was real easygoing. He never spanked me, but my mother, that's a different story.
"All the kids around here, white and black, we played together. I started integrated school in second grade. A friend in the Cub Scouts invited me to his pack's skating party at Skateland. His mother dropped us off. We were in line to pay, and when I got to the window, the lady told me 'No coloreds allowed.'
"His mother picked us up and took us to the Capitol and we went to the museum instead. As a second-grader, how do you process that? That was my first taste of racism.
"I graduated from CHS in '66. A lot of the people I went to Charleston High with, they were progressive. We weren't segregated in any sense.
"When I went in the Air Force, I was a security police officer and that's what got me involved in law enforcement. I spent three years at a Royal Air Force base in England.
"When I came back, I worked for United Parcel, loading trucks, gassing them, washing them. I always say things happen for a reason. They promoted me to driver. You had to go 30 days without an accident to get in the union. On my 28th day, my truck bumper caught the chrome strip on a car and popped it loose.
"The guy the car belonged to was a coal miner. He said I could just pay for it. But I didn't want to be dishonest, so I called it in, and they let me go. I would never have gotten a job in the police department if that hadn't happened.
"I didn't have any intentions of going into the police department. A friend, Capt. Casey James, was walking a beat on Capitol Street. He said he thought the department would announce some hirings soon. The next Sunday, it was in the paper that they were hiring. So I filled out the application and took the test.
"You start as a patrolman. At first, I was in a cruiser on the West Side. After about three years, I went to a midtown car and then to the detective bureau. I went through the DEA academy and was in the drug unit for several years and then transferred to a walking beat on Capitol Street.
"That was when the downtown was Capitol Street. They had the Downtown Business Association. Business people understood that public safety was a big part of retail. People go and spend money where they feel safe. There was always a police presence downtown.
"We knew all the business owners, store managers and clerks. Out of that, I formed friendships. When I became chief, it was the Charleston Retail Credit Association that bought the first bicycles for the police department.
"I walked a beat in Orchard Manor from 5 p.m. to 1 in the morning with Dave Tucker. We never had a problem. It was some of the best times I had in the police department.
"You tear down the mystery when you engage people and understand the types of things they are going through. I walked Summers Street back when the Brass Rail and all the pool rooms were there, and I knew all those people.
"There was a mutual understanding. We knew what they were doing. They knew what we were going to do if we caught them, that I was just doing my job. But of course, everyone wasn't carrying a gun back then.
"I had the opportunity to come on the force with really seasoned police officers, Ed Leonard, Ed Clark. They made it a point to tell you to get to know everybody from the banker to the street person. They treated everyone with respect.
"In '91, Mayor Kent Hall appointed me police chief, the first black police chief. It's one thing to be first. I just don't want to be the first and only. I hope I opened the door for other people of color to have the opportunities.
"We set up community policing where you don't apply one resource to a problem. Say the police department identifies a community where kids don't have anything to do, a recreation problem. Government doesn't pull the police department in to supply that, they pull in the parks and recreation director to come up with a strategy.
"It's using all the resources of government. Look at the drug problem. It was given to the criminal justice system, which is crazy. Addiction is a health problem. Public health should have been at the head of this.
"All we've done is constantly try to interrupt the supply chain. If we had put as much emphasis on the demand side, we would have automatically killed the supply.
"We need some upfront programs. We used to have the DARE program where we teach children to resist ever using drugs. We make up 4 percent of the world population, but we consume over 80 percent of illicit drugs. You have to kill the demand.
"My biggest thing as far as community policing was the NAOs, Neighborhood Assistance Officers. I was visiting my sister in Dayton and there was an article about it in the paper. I contacted the people running it in Dayton and they came here and helped us set it up.
"The horse patrol lasted about three years. City Council wasn't going to fund it, so I formed a Mounted Patrol Commission, business people and lawyers and different people that I brought together. They said they didn't know anything about horses. I said, 'You don't need to. What I need you to do is raise money.'
"John Chapman from the Chamber of Commerce agreed to handle the funding so it wouldn't commingle with tax dollars. A woman named Marjorie Johnson sent us a $10,000 check. I went to thank her and she wrote a $50,000 check to build a barn. She paid for the officers' training in Washington. The barn is named after her. She was a horse owner.
"My grandfather had work horses at his farm on Davis Creek. He'd let us ride the horse back to the barn. When I got on the police department, I did security work for the Kanawha Valley Bank. A teller there had horses, and I bought my first horse from him.
"I started keeping horses. I still have a horse at Bill Archibald's Briar Patch Farm off the Clendenin exit. My horse's name is Max, a Tennessee walker.
"On horse patrol, there's a safety presence where there is no mistake that there is a police officer in the area. It's visibility. We were having a lot of problems with people breaking into cars at games at Laidley Field and the Civic Center. We put the horses there and never had any more trouble.
"When Kemp Melton was elected mayor, he replaced me with Fred Marshall as police chief. I was shift commander. That's when I got a call from T.D. Jakes Ministries.
"Again, things always happen for a reason. A woman was pulled over on Greenbrier Street with her flashers on and her car hood up. I pulled over in my cruiser and put my flashers on and called her husband.
"Bishop Jakes was on his way to the airport and saw me and thought my cruiser was broken down. He told his assistant, 'I can't believe they would give him a cruiser that won't work. I'm going to offer him a job.'
"So I went to Texas to set up his security. That took about three years.
"Next, I went to the Juvenile Services Division as operations director. Then-Gov. Wise appointed me deputy director of security for the Lottery. I stayed there from 2001 to 2003. They moved me to enforcement director of ABC and from there, Gov. Manchin appointed me ABC commissioner. I stayed there until 2011.
"Gov. Tomblin transferred me to Military Affairs and Public Safety. I was on the safe schools project, prevention and response plans for all the schools in the state.
"In 2014, I retired. Now it's grandbabies. And I like to barbecue. A friend and I have always talked about opening a place. We do a lot of barbecuing.
"I've had a rich experience. Just with T.D. Jakes, seeing things, meeting people. I went to Bermuda and South Africa. I met David Robinson, the basketball player.
"My job experience has been wonderful. The only thing is, I regret that I didn't spend as much time as I should have with my son. That's the thing about police work. It really takes over. You got a homicide and you are gone for two days.
"I probably wouldn't want to be a cop today. It's a tough job. You get a Legislature that passes a bill where you can carry a concealed gun without a permit. You are in a movie theater or out to eat. Who's to say? The Second Amendment was to secure a safe, regulated militia. We have a militia. It's called the National Guard."
Reach Sandy Wells at sandyw@wvgazette.com or 304-342-5027.