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Lives Marked With Devotion To Service, And Each Other

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By DONNA KOEHN, The Tampa Tribune

Published: October 20, 2007

TAMPA - Crowds make her antsy now. Too many people; too much confusion.

For years, Carolyn and Charles Mahan had planned for this special day, a day they would chat and mingle and laugh with friends and colleagues. Then, together, they would announce a huge donation to the College of Public Health at the University of South Florida to help expectant mothers and babies, their favorite cause.

Charles Mahan, 69, knows he couldn't have gotten to this point without his wife's wisdom and care. His heart hurts that Alzheimer's disease, a thief of so many moments and memories, would deprive her of this one, too.

The amount of their donation - $1.8 million - likely would have made them laugh out loud in disbelief when they were high school sweethearts 50 years ago.

Their black-and-white wedding photo shows a dapper pair, in 1950s-style bowtie tux and white petticoats, ready to follow in their parents' footsteps. Both had nurse mothers and doctor fathers, one father with a modest obstetrical practice in their small hometown of Morgantown, W.Va., the other helping to establish the medical school at West Virginia University. Both men prized public service over personal gain.

Public Service Was Their Calling

Like many wives at midcentury, Carolyn helped put her husband through medical school, where he specialized in obstetrics and gynecology. She took a teaching degree, then nagged high schoolers in the proper use of grammar.

Charles decided his calling, too, was public service. He became a professor, and later chairman of organizations dedicated to helping women who couldn't afford proper prenatal care.

They lived modestly for a doctor's family, buying their cars used and taking public transportation during summer vacations.

When their three children arrived, Carolyn quit teaching and joined the Junior League, then a white-gloved ladies organization devoted to social causes.

But somewhere along the way, Carolyn deviated from the cultural script.

'In the '60s and early '70s, there was a sea change in the number of women joining the work force,' Charles recalls. 'Carolyn realized that all these homemakers with experience volunteering weren't being appreciated by employers. She decided they needed a standard resume to help them document their volunteer work.'

So the Junior Leaguer stepped out from behind her husband, took the gloves off and sought the help of the National Organization for Women. She forged a bond, organizing in the early '70s a national conference of these seemingly disparate groups to address women's future in the working world.

The organizations designed a resume template that presented leadership positions in volunteer work as comparable to paid employment.

Their daughter, Amy Tamargo, 42, says her mother stressed the importance of an education. Amy, with a law degree, is taking time off from practicing to care for her two children. Her brother Scott, 39, is a doctor of infectious diseases, and brother John, 34, is a wildlife biologist.

Amy says there was much humor in the house while they were growing up. 'My mother was usually the straight man,' she says.

When Charles became director of Florida's State Health Department in 1988, Carolyn struck up a friendship with Marylyn Feaver, a feminist and financial planner in Tallahassee. Feaver believed too many women turned over control of their finances to their husbands, and so taught all-female classes in money management.

'It was such a new concept,' Feaver says. 'It was very hard to convince them to learn.'

Carolyn, however, proved an apt pupil. 'She was more than willing to learn, and she was smart,' Feaver says. 'She took over the family finances.'

Their money began to grow, says Charles, who admits to having little interest in such things.

'Carolyn did very, very well,' Feaver says.

Prudent Planning Built Their Nest Egg

Modest living and wise investments brought wealth the family never had known. The couple made plans to share their good fortune with their children and with their favorite universities. They looked forward to some international travel; an active retirement beckoned.

But at age 56, something started to go wrong with Carolyn.

Family gatherings, which eventually included five grandchildren, started to distress her. She had trouble sleeping. Her husband, now the dean of the College of Public Health and director of the Lawton and Rhea Chiles Center for Healthy Mothers and Babies, couldn't fix this. She became depressed and anxious. Her memory faltered. Simple tasks overwhelmed. In 2003, Carolyn, then 64, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's.

'She began a slow slide into forgetting,' says Charles. Son John moved home to care for her, but a few months ago, Carolyn entered an assisted-living facility.

'We're so happy she remembers our names,' Charles says.

'Every time I see her, she asks, 'Where's Charlie? Where's Charlie?'' says Amy.

He visits every day. Even as Alzheimer's advanced, he took her on trips to Costa Rica and Australia, places she always had wanted to go.

Charles knew she would be frightened if she came to the ceremony, held in September on the 10th anniversary of the Chiles Center. He is retired but remains professor emeritus at USF.

When matched by the state, the $3.6 million fund will create an endowment to train post-doctoral students in research in public health, especially in prenatal care.

For Amy, it's a fitting tribute to her father, to both sets of grandparents, and, of course, to Carolyn.

Reporter Donna Koehn can be reached at dkoehn@tampatrib.com or (813) 259-8264.

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