By: Guillermo Torrente & Mekenzie Kuhn
Umoja Abdul-Ahad—some may remember him as Terry Ladd—did not attend Karns High School in 1964 to integrate the school; he did it because he wanted to sleep in, like any other teenager would. Before he went to Karns High School, he went to Austin High School—separated by fourteen miles—and in order to make it to the bus on time, he would have to wake up at 4:30 a.m. It was a three hour ride to the all-black high school. Although he was happy to have a shorter commute to school, Umoja had to leave his high school sweetheart to attend Karns; he would call her every morning. Transferring to Karns not only began the process of integrating the school, but also allowed him to enjoy his school year more: he could sleep in and play basketball for Karns. He gladly accepted his new sleep schedule. However, transferring to his new school would also have lasting effects on his life. Brought to school by their mother and step-uncle, Umoja, a senior, and his sister, Alice Ladd, a junior, attended the original Karns High School building.
From the very first day attending their new school, Umoja and his sister were welcomed into Karns. As they entered school on that first day, the usual crowd of students “milling around” at the front of the school created a safe path for Umoja and his family to follow, parting like the Red Sea. Umoja described the situation, “They just moved out of the way. You know, they didn’t congregate or anything….We just went right past everybody, came in the front door of Karns, came to the office, and the receptionist said ‘good morning’. And then my mom told everybody why we were there, and I think Dr. McKeehan must’ve heard it. He just immediately came out and had his hand stuck out welcoming us to the school.” Dr. McKeehan was the school principal at the time. Umoja recalled, “Dr. McKeehan was professional, warm, inviting, and helpful. His demeanor set the tone, and he only got better, always inquiring about my needs. Just as the majority of the educators exhibited in my life.” Dr. McKeehan as well as all the other teachers made Karns a welcome home for Umoja and his sister. Their introduction to Karns was an important occasion in the school’s history. They were the first two African American students enrolled at the high school, and Umoja was the first African American basketball player at Karns.
On his first day at Karns High School, Umoja was approached by Buster Duncan, a fellow student and basketball player, who asked him, “Do you play ball?” to which he responded, “Yes, I play!” Buster then invited Umoja to meet the basketball coach, H.B. Jenkins, at practice after school. He soon became an important part of the team. However, his joining may have been controversial to some: he had not attended the summer basketball fitness program required to get the players in top condition and join the team. Nevertheless, Umoja had a very positive experience as a student-athlete.
When asked if there was a specific event that shaped who he is today, Umoja responded, “I think when you mentioned that…about what actually shaped…what incident…what specific thing at Karns actually shaped my life, I couldn’t think of one incident.” Umoja praised his experience as a student at Karns High School. He recalled the positive reception he received and complimented the “outstanding teachers” he met at Karns. He acclaimed the school, saying it has always been a top academic school.
While receiving his education, Umoja became close with several students; today, he still retains many of those friendships. He got along with almost everyone at Karns. In fact, he reminded there was “no racial shock” surrounding his introduction to Karns. Although there was “no major incident” during his time at Karns, Umoja did experience some—although, relatively minor—incidents of racial negativity.
A majority of the incidents Umoja endured involved the basketball team. However, he recalled a harmless experience from his first day at Karns. Umoja and his sister waited in bus hall, seated in the front row of the auditorium. After a spitball greeted Umoja on his shoulder, his sister became defensive, “she always loved her brother and still does, so she’s very protective….She was ready to just go to war about a spitball. And I said, ‘Sis, it’s just a piece of paper. That’s all it is, a piece of paper.’” Out of his peripheral, Umoja witnessed the student who gifted him his new, wet, paper companion. Giggles and laughs emanated from the back of the auditorium. Weeks later, the culprit apologized to Umoja, “He said, ‘I want to apologize to you,’ and I said, ‘For hitting me with that spitball?’ ‘You knew that all the time?’ ‘Yeah, I saw you when you threw it.’ ‘Well you still talk, we’re still interacting, we still have classes together.’ ‘Yeah, it was just a piece of paper.’” Umoja’s personality shone through in that moment, “And I said, ‘You didn’t know me….So I couldn’t get mad at you because you don’t know me.’” Umoja’s easygoing temper was on display. Umoja also recalled one minor incident that involved a different student. While officiating for a basketball game, part of the responsibility of a varsity player, Umoja called a travel on a student who then threw the basketball at Umoja in his frustration. Umoja returned the ball to him with equal enthusiasm; the student failed to catch it. Later, the student “misrepresented the situation” to other students, claiming he met Umoja in the hallway and pulled a knife on him. In fact, Umoja explained, “I don’t know where he imagined that, but it never happened.” On a later occasion, the same student approached Coach Jenkins, who was wearing a “b-bop” or “tweed” hat, in the gym. He then asked the coach, “Coach, how far did you have to run that n***** before you got that hat?” Coach Jenkins immediately disapproved of the student’s language. Umoja explained, “The coach told him that was unacceptable. You know, we don’t say that….And whether the guy knew I was in the room or not, I’m not sure. And it doesn’t really matter because of his language. That’s not the language you use in love and appreciation and getting to know people and that kind of thing. But I really appreciated Coach H.B. Jenkins and his response about it not being acceptable.”
A more major incident highlights the character of the people at Karns. At a rivalry game, students from the rival school planned to jump Umoja as he took a shot from the corner—his favorite position to shoot from. After learning of this planned attack, several students from Karns decided to stand up and defend Umoja. Ed Dossett was one of the students who organized the other students to protect him. Umoja was informed that Ed Dossett, Fred Parham, Red Carter, and several others defended him; the names of the other students were not shared with him. These students stood like a wall in the corner of the court, acting as a barrier between Umoja and any potential threat. Not only were the Beavers victorious on the court that night, they also demonstrated the true character of Karns—a more important victory.
However, these negative incidents were not the first to come to mind when recalling his school days. Umoja remembered the positive experiences he had before any other memories. He got to know several people during his time at Karns. Along with Dr. McKeehan, Coach Jenkins, and several other educators at Karns, Umoja met many people of good character. John Edgel was a significant figure in Umoja’s experience. Edgel, a forward on the basketball team, gladly provided Umoja transportation to and from practice everyday. The two teammates would chat during their daily commute. In fact, they would also eat lunch together with Barry Hodges and his family at the Hodges’ home. Umoja depicted him as a true friend, “John Edgel played forward on our basketball team and provided me transportation home after basketball practice with glee and no signs of not wanting to assist me in that manner. God bless, John Edgel!!! Amen.” Ed Dossett was another significant figure in Umoja’s story. After he learned that Ed Dossett defended him, Umoja approached Ed and thanked him, to which Ed responded, “Aw man, don’t listen to what people are saying.” He highlighted Ed’s character, “He didn’t even wanna get credit for it. He didn’t wanna make a big issue out of it or anything.” Umoja recalled that he and Ed “became fast friends over the years.” When he returned home after serving in the Air Force for four years, Umoja went to meet Dossett, who was now serving as the Attorney General of Knox County, in his office and thanked Ed for protecting him. He recalled that after they met, Dossett ordered, “I don’t care what I’m doing, if he comes up here to see me, send him back here.” Unfortunately, Mr. Dossett died in 1992. Also, one of Umoja’s teammates, Ted Allen, was killed in the Oklahoma City bombing. Umoja described another friend of his, “Calvin ‘Cylk’ Cozart: Karns High Beaver, Actor, Director, Producer, Father, Friend, all-around good guy.” Growing up as neighbors, Umoja’s sister babysat the newborn Cozart. Currently, Umoja occasionally texts Cozart, greeting him with “Hello Beaver!” every time—a greeting unique to their friendship.
Today, Umoja works as a volunteer for the Carpet Bag Theater, helping bring art to veterans. He also owns a recycling company, the “I Recycle Campaign”, providing jobs for the youth in Knoxville.
In telling his tale, Umoja uncovered the character of the Karns community. If they make a mistake—as people tend to do—there are people in Karns who have the maturity to apologize and make amends with others. There are adults in Karns who want to set an example for the future generations, putting them back on the right track when they do wrong— warm and friendly folk living in Karns who welcome newcomers into the community. There are people who stand up and defend each other—a sign of true friendship. Friends for life are made here. Karns is home to priceless memories of laughter, fun, friendship, and happiness that can last a lifetime.