ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Friday, November 29, 1996 TAG: 9611290060
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: C1 EDITION: METRO
DATELINE: HUDDLESTON
SOURCE: JOANNE POINDEXTER STAFF WRITER
Vernon Goode was almost a rookie himself in 1966 when he rode around Bedford County training a new sheriff's deputy named Mike Brown.
But the lessons Goode taught Brown - how to conduct himself in a professional manner on everything from road stops to serving court papers - had a lasting impact.
Brown, now Bedford County's sheriff, said he still employs some of the things Goode taught him.
The sheriff sees Goode as a mentor, saying Goode would not belittle you for mistakes. Instead, Brown said, Goode prefaced his corrections with "'I don't know everything but' or 'I would do it like this.' It was in a way that seemed like a compliment."
Brown's is one of dozens of lives Goode influenced - both in and outside the sheriff's office - in his years of enforcing laws in Bedford County. The deputy, who retired last month, was known for his easygoing style.
Goode is not the type who intimidated others, said former Sheriff Carl Wells, Goode's boss for years and Brown's predecessor.
"Vernon was always gracious," Brown recalled. "He is pretty big, but he gets going like a locomotive. He shows that you can get the job of being a police officer done without being rough and having a stern demeanor."
Goode, 55, said he followed a philosophy adopted after high school: "Treat others like you would want to be treated if you were in their situation."
The law enforcement bug bit Goode when he was about 10, and a cousin, a deputy sheriff in Stokesdale, N.C., let him ride around at night with him in a police cruiser.
He joined the Bedford County Sheriff's office in 1965, starting work as a weekend jailer. As a deputy, Goode wasn't as interested in the detective part of the job as other tasks. He mostly enjoyed serving as circuit court bailiff, the job from which he retired.
Even so, he was still involved in a number of dangerous situations.
Although he's reluctant to talk about it, he was once shot while answering a call about a domestic dispute between a mother and her son. The son, after seeing the police had been called, started firing shots. A bullet hit a car fender, ricocheted and struck Goode in the shoulder.
The deputy went to the hospital, where he was treated and released.
Goode said he sympathized with the young man who fired the shot because the man's mother was standing nearby talking to him. "It could have been his mother shot instead of me."
Goode did not seek the spotlight during his career, but he garnered a lot of attention in 1995 when Wells endorsed him - over Brown and four other people - as the best candidate for the sheriff's job.
Goode bowed out after a short run, saying a six-man race "was too big of a chance."
He doesn't regret withdrawing. "I thought at the time I wanted to be sheriff. [But] it's just too much pressure anymore." If he were 10 years younger, he said, he'd run.
Goode basically started from nothing to set up the Bedford County jail annex in Moneta, recalled Wells. He had to handle everything from ordering toilet paper to hiring staff.
Friends, former co-workers and family can't think of any problems Goode has had with anyone. His use of "gentleman" when describing someone he stopped or arrested says a lot about the time he grew up. He has seen the nature of crime change and is troubled by unrest among young people.
Goode is planning to start a charter bus service that he says will cater mainly to business executives.
After almost 30 years as a deputy sheriff - he left for five years to help his mom operate the farm after his father died - Goode has lots of memories.One involved Sheriff Brown, then with the state Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms bureau.
Goode and Brown were investigating a call about old dynamite found at a home in Montvale. The officers decided to dispose of the dynamite by blowing it up in a nearby hollow, and the homeowner agreed.
``On the way back [from setting off the dynamite], the gentleman wanted to know how much he owed us,'' Goode recalled.
``Mike said, `Sir, you don't owe us anything. This is your tax dollars at work.'''
``When we got back to his house, we found the explosions had blown out a window.'' But, the homeowner, Goode recalled, was so glad to get rid of the explosives that he told Brown not to worry about the window.
LENGTH: Medium: 84 lines ILLUSTRATION: PHOTO: ROGER HART STAFF Now retired, Vernon Goode spends timeby CNBon his Bedford County farm and plans a charter bus service. color