Charles Ralph Conner

Charles Ralph Conner, 91, passed away peacefully on August 18, 2025, in Black Mountain, North Carolina. Born on October 18, 1933, in Broad River, North Carolina, Charles lived a long and meaningful life rooted in faith, family, and service to others.

Charles dedicated 48 years of his life as a skilled Ford mechanic. His hands were rarely still-always fixing, building, or lending help where it was needed. Known for his generosity and selflessness, he would give the shirt off his back or even his last bit of food to someone in need. His compassion extended beyond people; he had a deep love for animals and treated them with the same kindness he showed everyone around him.

A man of unwavering faith, Charles played guitar alongside his beloved wife, Imogene, in their church band. Their shared devotion to music and ministry was a cornerstone of their 55-year marriage. Together, they brought joy and inspiration to their congregation through song and service.

Charles was preceded in death by his parents, Tina Marlow Conner and Ralph Conner; his wife of 55 years, Imogene Plemmons Conner; and his son, Michael Conner.

He is lovingly remembered by his grandson, Jonathan Conner and wife Jennifer; granddaughter, Stephanie Edwards and Thomas; great-grandchildren, Ian Conner, Ciara Woodlee and husband Isaac, Kyleigh Browning, and Mikaela "Little Runt" Edwards. His legacy lives on through each of them.

Charles's life was a testament to humility, hard work, and enduring love. May his memory bring comfort to those who knew him.

A celebration of his life will be held Saturday, September 20, 2025, at 2pm at his home, 123 E College Street, Black Mountain, NC 28711.

The family would like to extend special thanks to his best buddy, Wesley and his dog "NoBo" for his friendship and memories shared.

From Wesley: "We lost a dear friend and neighbor today; the day before his grocery day, Tuesday, to get those gas points at Ingles. I met Charlie a few years ago when I moved to Black Mountain. I walk my dog NoBo down to Lake Tomahawk nearly every day and Charlie's house is on the way, 123 E College St. One day, he invited us (Henry, NoBo and I) inside to give NoBo a treat; you see, he loved animals, so much so that he bought huge 50 lb bags of peanuts & pecans at the WNC Farmer's Market to feed the squirrels, birds, possums, raccoons, fox, bears and other animals that would frequent his front yard. But he didn't just love animals, he loved people too. Countless stories of him keeping the boys fed down at Black Mountain Ford (where he was a mechanic for over 40 years). He would show up to work at the crack of dawn and brew coffee for the crew and he kept a smorgasbord of treats for the staff, paid for by him. My dog would bring him slobber balls found in the woods outside the tennis courts on our walks and Charlie would give him a dog treat in return. Truth is, NoBo got a treat whether a slobber ball was conveyed or not. As of this writing, there's a 5-gallon bucket overflowing with slobber balls in his living room. Charlie lived through the Great Depression so naturally he was a prepper, he would joke and say he had enough food to feed an army for a month. He also had more tools and guns than he had sense.

We became friends on our daily visits, and I got a little dose of Fox News or Gunsmoke or NASCAR while checking in. When Henry was with me, sometimes he would turn on a ball game for us to watch. Charlie would give you the shirt off his back or his last hash brown. He always wanted to send us home with a jumbo bag of Ingles popcorn, a bag of chips or a tube of Pringles. I liked to joke with Charlie and I would come up with nicknames for him based on characteristics or idiosyncrasies: Corn-dodger (he made a mean cake of cornbread (he insisted the secret ingredient was sour milk), Creeping Charlie (the plant and how he slowly moved around to accomplish his daily tasks) and last but not least Dagwood (the huge sandwiches he made on hamburger buns that he said he had to sit on in order to eat). One of the things I will miss most is his stories: catching horny heads as a kid up on the family homestead on Garren Creek/Broad River, treeing possums up the persimmon trees and taking them to Old Fort to sell with lumber, cooking potatoes over the coals on hunting trips and making percolated coffee on the fire; speaking of, more recently I got in the habit of getting a cup of percolated coffee he kept piping hot on his stove. Charlie had many fond memories of his late wife Imogene and their relationship and love for one another. They were involved in their church, he played guitar in a praise band until some young outfit came in and ran them off. They had a Honda Gold Wing motorcycle they rode all over the country with their poodle, Muffy Maria, in tow. Charlie loved to mow, not only did he mow his yard, but he mowed the adjoining 4 yards too, I think it gave him a sense of purpose in his later years. When we would come up the steps and walk in the door, Charlie would say, "Well come on in the house." And when we were about to leave, he would say, "Now don't rush off, everything's peaceable." I take solace in knowing that the creator of the universe welcomed Charlie in a similar fashion."