Published: March 23, 2008 01:11 am            

Obie Clark did a lot for ‘not doing that much’

The eve of spring was overshadowed by sadness this week.

Longtime Meridian NAACP president and civil rights activist Obie Clark died Wednesday after a long battle with cancer. In the words of his wife Melba – with whom he would have celebrated 50 years of marriage on Dec. 22 – Clark, in his final battle, "fought a good fight."

As news of Clark's passing became known, newspapers and TV stations around the state and the region compiled stories which briefly detailed his legacy as a community leader and civil rights activist. Outspoken, Clark often ruffled feathers as he protested the social injustices of his people, passionately fought for quality education for children of all races and firmly stated his views on issues such as the Mississippi state flag.

But there was another side to the man I respectfully refer to as Mr. Clark. A side I had the pleasure of experiencing firsthand.

I often credit Mr. Clark as one of the people who helped me to "get in the door" at The Star. During a visit home while I was a journalism student at the University of Southern Mississippi, I visited him at his office at the Multi-County Community Service Agency (MCCSA) – which, at the time, was located across the street from where I lived in Frank Berry Courts.

I'd known Mr. Clark since I was a child and the summer after my freshman year at USM – the only year I didn't attend summer school – I'd worked in a government-sponsored program that provided jobs for low-income students. Multi-County, where Mr. Clark served as director, was the program's headquarters.

I hadn't been in his office five minutes when Mr. Clark asked, "When do you graduate?"

"Next year, in May," I promptly answered.

Mr. Clark handed me the telephone directory, grabbed the phone receiver and told me to lookup the number for The Meridian Star. When he reached Jim Wynn, who, at the time was executive editor, Mr. Clark asked, "How many black reporters do you have on your staff?"

I couldn't hear Wynn's response, but from Mr. Clark's next question I assumed his answer was "none."

"Can you tell me why you don't have any?" he asked in a calm, even tone.

Again, I couldn't hear Wynn's response, but apparently he'd told Mr. Clark that none of those who had applied were qualified.

"I have a young lady sitting here who will graduate in one year from Southern Mississippi with a ... "

He looked at me and on cue I whispered, "bachelor of science degree in journalism – with a minor in English."

Mr. Clark smiled and, after repeating the information to Wynn, said, "So when she finishes next spring, she will be coming down to your office to put in her application. And then you will have a qualified black applicant."

Mr. Clark hung up the phone, looked at me and said, "Young lady, I expect you to be working at The Star this time next year."

I graduated from USM in May 1983. Two weeks later, I started as a reporter at The Star.

Whenever I've credited Mr. Clark (and Rep. Charles Young, who also put in a good word for me) with "getting me my job" at The Star, he's always interrupted and said, "YOU got the job; I just held the door open for you to walk inside."

That was Mr. Clark.

He never took credit for helping others. I've seen others also try to express their appreciation to Mr. Clark and in his slow Southern drawl he would say, "Well ... You know I really didn't do that much."

Just think ... What would be the impact if we all "really didn't do that much" for others? How much would be accomplished, how much better life would be and how much greater a world would we live in?

So here's to Mr. Clark, The man who "really didn't do that much," just held the door open to make it a little easier for many of us to walk inside so that we could have an opportunity to fulfill our hopes and dreams – and to become productive and successful individuals.

        

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