When I Met Joe Clark

I met Joe Clark on a flight from Willmington, NC to Newark, NJ. I sat next to him in first class, where I had been placed by a kind flight attendant of an earlier era after missing a previous flight. Mr. Clark wore a brightly-colored suit and thick gold rings adorned his fingers. I had spent the summer as a laborer moving dirt on a dam-building site and was now (on exchange from Chico State), heading east to spend my junior year at Rutgers University. Given my appearance and grease caked beneath my finger nails, I doubt I appeared worthy of my first class status, but that didn’t stop Mr. Clark from engaging in conversation with me. Surprisingly, we bonded. Perhaps it was that my father was an educator or that I had run a respectable mile time (his children were budding Olympic middle-distance runners at the time). More likely, it was that I was in awe as he told me about himself. Without mentioning the movie deal or the cover of Time Magazine, he told me about Paterson and the difficulties his students faced. He also told me about his bullhorn and his bat, but it was the love and dedication he had for his students that warmed me to him. Upon landing at Newark, Mr. Clark walked me through the airport, where it felt to me that he was known to every local we passed. He helped me get a taxi for the short drive to New Brunswick—the cabbie recognized Mr. Clark and asked me about him. 

A week or so later, my father called to say that he had received a letter from Mr. Clark commenting on his son's spirit and wishing this ne'er-do-well good luck. My father was astonished when his response to Mr. Clark was returned by one more asking him to visit. The students in the district where my father served as High School Superintendent surely never faced adversity like those in Paterson; however, I'm sure that my father admired the Reaganesque hardline-discipline that Mr. Clark practiced. 

When reading Mr. Clark’s obituary this morning, I was transported back to my fortuitous encounter with him. I recall a much younger self, grateful that such a prominent leader took note of a wayward undergrad. Our meeting that day proved an auspicious start to a year of unprecedented educational and personal growth. As I contemplate Joe Clark’s impactful life, I’m not visited by the iconic image of him with his bullhorn and bat; instead I recall a tough but noble figure filled with genuine warmth and kindness. 

 Thank you for Mr. Clark. May you rest in peace.

https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/30/nyregion/joe-clark-dead.html?searchResultPosition=1