An Interview with Perquimans County Commissioner

Lieutenant Colonel Joseph Hoffler

By Amy Beth Wright

Tell us a little about your path to public service. How did it begin?

My mother and father were originally from Hertford and moved to New York in 1936, during the Great Migration. I was born there in 1940. They moved back so I could start first grade in 1945. My father was a self-employed auto mechanic, and my mother was a schoolteacher, but she didn’t teach when we got back. I’m the youngest of six; I have three older sisters and two older brothers, but I am the last of my family still alive.

I graduated from a segregated high school in Hertford, and went to an HBCU, North Carolina Central University, though it was North Carolina College then. I graduated in 1962 with a degree in biology and then enlisted in the Air Force, retiring at the rank of Lieutenant Colonel after 22 years. I moved back to Hertford in 2021 and I’ve been living here since, and involved in as many civil events as I can. I was the Vice Commander of the American Legion in Hertford, an active member of the NAACP, and an active member of First Baptist Church. I was elected for Perquimans County Commissioner eight years ago and I am the chairman of the Hertford ABC board. My wife Judie and I have a great love for this county.

All of my education and my college was segregated. There wasn’t a choice. And the high schools of course were inferior—the law separate but equal did not apply. But I enjoyed my time at college.

What were some contrasts you perceived between schools?

The high schools were practically side by side, separated by a ditch. The white school was built as Perquimians County High School, and Black students attended Hertford High School. I cannot remember, nor can anybody else in my year remember, having a new textbook. The white school had a band program, a lighted football field, a gymnasium; we watched them play football games on Friday nights on a tax-supported football field that we could not play on. When they saw integration coming, they built a new school for Blacks in the town of Winfall, about three miles from Hertford. Perquimians County is divided by a river, on one side is Winfall on one side is Hertford. It was inferior to the white school.

But we had a love of the teachers, who were well trained. They felt for us, they cared for us. They loved us. So they imparted upon us that love and caring.

Has that shaped your path in terms of public service, and your goals as a commissioner?

Oh definitely. You can’t grow up in a system like that and not have it impact how you feel.

We have six county commissioners on the board, and I am the only African American. The school board is funded by the county—the fiscal policies, not the teachers’ pay scale. When we talk about supplying schools with new this and that, I remember what I went through—old books, if any books at all, no supplies, if any supplies at all. It has made me want to excel. I can remember when I entered the Air Force and became an officer. Whenever I was in the classroom with somebody from Duke or Notre Dame or USC— white institutions— I tried hard to let them know that Blacks can also exceed in our intelligence.

As a commissioner, or even before, what initiatives have been important to you?

The first is to open up jobs in the county. When I was growing up in Perquimans County, white people had all the state, county, and city jobs. That didn’t hit me then, because you didn’t know any better so to speak. But now, you go back and say, wow—my parents paid taxes along with a lot of other Black people who paid taxes, but we couldn’t work in the city or county offices. So I try to ensure that Blacks get their fair share of the good jobs and, when applicable, become county supervisors. I’m fighting for that under my term. We just got the first black person to supervise the Department of Social Services. I’m one voice out of six, but I think I have the respect of my fellow council members to open that area up. If you get jobs, you can do a lot of other things. The county is a large employer, and I want more Blacks in the supervisory level.

What happened recently with the Civil War monuments in town, and what choices did you need to make?

Like most counties in the American South, we had a Confederate monument sitting outside of the courthouse. Those were placed for intimidation during the 1920s and 1930s, years after the war was over, by organizations like the Union Daughters of the Confederacy. They were meant to intimidate blacks who were there to vote or for other courthouse business. And we pay taxes to support that site, to keep up the lawn, etc. These were throughout cities in the south, at intersections and at schools, and named after Confederate generals. As the movement to move the monuments hit our county, my suggestion was, if you’re really honoring the dead, put it within a private cemetery, not on courthouse grounds.

Were these monuments successful in creating an intimidating feeling?

There’s no doubt about it. To be truthful, the one in Hertford wasn’t as imposing as many others—it wasn’t a soldier with a sword, or on a horse. It seemed plain until you went up to it and read the inscription. I grew up here. I passed it whenever I went downtown, or when I went to sit upstairs in the theater. It wasn’t intimidating until you realized what it is.

Placards now explain what the monument is and why it’s there. I think that’s more important than moving it to a cemetery or somebody’s farm. It notes that due to the Quaker influence, there was not a lot of sympathy for the Confederacy in Perquimans County, which I’m proud of.  It also points to the Union Colored Soldiers monument, which is two or three long city blocks away, by First Baptist Church, on what I call “sacred ground.” It’s in the Black neighborhood on Academy Place, where the first Black school, library, and Masonic Lodge are, and it’s owned by and across the street from the First Baptist Church, where I went to Sunday school and church. The Confederate monument has been defaulted to be owned by the county.

When did addressing the  Confederate monument become urgent?

Three or four years ago, after the George Floyd incident, counties and states decided to move these monuments. Richmond took their whole lot out and cities were taking them out of their roundabouts, etc. So, we received a request from the county NAACP to move it, and the county commissioners had the equivalent of a town hall meeting, and citizens who’ve never been to a meeting before came and gave their opinion. I couldn’t get it moved, but at least the placards explain what’s going on, and point to the Union Colored Soldiers Monument, which was established in 1910 by four black women; I am proud to say that one of them is Esther Wood, my grandmother. My name is Joseph Wood Hoffler, her maiden name is Wood. Do you realize what strength it took in 1910 to place a monument to black soldiers who killed white soldiers? It took a lot of oomph. It’s one of two monuments in the whole country erected to honor Union soldiers who fought in the Civil War. Beside the monument, names are listed of four citizens of Perquimans County, who died and are now buried here, one being my great-great grandfather on my father’s side, Sergeant Gordon. It’s a pride in our community. In fact, two years ago, when there was construction on it, I had to guard it because people driving by said, don’t be bothering our monument, and I said, no, no, they’re here to restore it.

What are some of your other goals for the immediate future?

One is to increase black participation in the political process. I believe in that old adage, if you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu. So we have to get involved. In the 1990s, the NAACP filed a lawsuit because Blacks could not run anybody with a chance of winning in Perquimans County. We had five commissioners, who were all white. The federal courts told the county to enlarge the Board of County Commissioners to six.  Now, we have a one-vote system to allow Black people in this county to have some participation in government. Every four years we have an election, with three on the ballot, and a Black person running each time. Unless the Black voters split their votes, chances are a Black person will be elected, as each voter can only vote for one candidate.

It also saddens me that some school districts or states have compromised and eliminated Black History from classrooms. Blacks have been here a long, long time. And we are not going anywhere. We are a part of America’s history. We have fought in every war, from the Revolutionary War to the latest conflicts. I wish to see American history taught as it happened—don’t be afraid of teaching the truth. I don’t believe in drilling on the negative but put it out there, because Black history is American history.