THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Tuesday, October 25, 1994 TAG: 9410250289
SECTION: LOCAL PAGE: B01 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Marc Tibbs
LENGTH: Medium: 71 lines
Much has been written lately about the dearth of black male role models. More black men are in prison than in college. Young black fathers are abandoning their children. Juvenile violence is on the rise.
But read between the lines, and you'll find legions of black men whose lives aren't the stuff of which headlines are made.
Men who love and nurture families; work hard, at what are ofttimes menial careers; defend their country and inspire others to do likewise.
Role models if ever there were any.
Quietly. Steadily. Daily. They stand in the face of adversity, their heads unbowed.
Carl W. Clark Jr. was such a man.
His obituary is a road map for role models.
Member of New Bethlehem Church of Christ Disciples.
Chairman of its board of deacons, its board of trustees, and superintendent of the Sunday school.
Masonic Lodge member; president of his civic league; and active in a host of other positions.
Mr. Clark died last week. He was 87.
I met him once while doing an interview for a story about World War II.
During the war years, a time when racial atrocities abroad were rivaled by those at home, Carl Clark battled to support his family.
He worked for $15 a week as a janitor, but he dreamed of becoming a Pullman car porter.
``It was one of the best jobs blacks could get at that time,'' Clark told me during that interview. ``Everybody was somebody on the railroad.''
Finally, after two years of cleaning floors, Clark put on the white smock and bright smile of the Pullman car brethren. Later, he would become an officer in his union.
CLARK REMEMBERED the lean times of the war years: families sharing tenements and sleeping in shifts on the same bed, people tearing down abandoned houses for firewood. Segregation was the rule of the day.
``There wasn't much you could do about it,'' Clark said in his even voice. ``On the buses, we just took a seat in the back. Sometimes, I'd think that I'd paid my money just like the whites had, and I'd want to sit wherever I wanted, but it just wasn't that way back then.''
Clark didn't lead any marches or stage any protests, but he hardly sat by idly.
For 67 years he was married to the same woman - his wife, Vashti, who survives him. Together they raised their three sons to be God-fearing, responsible men.
His dedication to his family and his community should serve as a beacon for a troubled, unraveling black community.
He wasn't flashy. He just did the simple things well. And he longed for the time when violence wasn't so prevalent.
``Back then people were responsible for one another,'' Clark once said. ``People didn't bother anybody. You could walk down the street any time of night. The family was the core to the whole thing.''
Carl Clark didn't preach that philosophy. He lived it. You can't do more than that. ILLUSTRATION: Photo
Carl W. Clark Jr., who died last week at age 87, was dedicated to
his family and to his community.
KEYWORDS: DEATH
by CNB