Charlie was certainly a gentleman toward me. I followed him for several rounds in the sectional SoCal PGA, c. '67, two rounds of match play daily for club pros at Recreation Park in Long Beach; winner qualifies for the PGA tournament. I was caddying, but the club pro I drew couldn't hit a fairway to save his soul, so I was soon free to spectate. Charlie had a wonderful swing, powerful low draw; his swing exceeded his putting, but his raw talent (first player I saw putt successfully out of a bunker) beat every opponent, until the morning he got out of bed and inexplicably the ball was no longer drawing.
Anyway, by the third day he recognized me and we had some pleasant chats. Courteous, friendly, encouraging, took a personal interest in me.
Ever after, I rooted not only for Charlie but also for his nephew, Curtis Sifford, a fine LA player who never made it on the tour.
Interesting addendum: Charlie played a one-round match on Shell's Wonderful World of Golf against Sam Snead, which Charlie won. Some time later, ol' Sam "revealed" that he had discovered on the back nine that he'd been carrying an illegal extra club, which required substantial penalties. Sam was leading, and he explained that rather than ruining the telecast by announcing penalties on himself, he decided simply to relinquish his lead deliberately and throw the match. Wounded pride at this West Virginian losing to a black man? Even if Sam's story was true, which is dubious, couldn't he keep his mouth shut and let Charlie enjoy what seemed to be his well-earned victory? I vividly recall Charlie urging in a 40' putt ("Get in theeeeeeeeeeere!") to claim the lead--sure looked like Charlie won fair and square.