McCook judge was a storyteller for the ages and fraternity brother and friend for life
By Dave Wohlfarth (’64)
Retired newspaper/sports editor and college instructor
The drive from Amarillo, Texas, to Elwood, Neb., was 400 miles. As we cut across the Kansas plains in Les Marshall’s 2007 Cadillac truck, my thoughts went back to another vehicle, the Blue Darter.
Les Marshall (’62) and I were en route to the services for our former fraternity brother, Judge Cloyd Clark. Cloyd, who served 34 years as Nebraska’s 14th Judicial District County judge and was a renowned leader in McCook, died Feb. 28, at age 78.
Cloyd’s impact on McCook wasn’t confined to the courtroom. He was an innovator, a delegator and a storyteller, wrote Ronda Graff in her McCook Gazette Community Connections column.
“One of the things Cloyd was so good at was coming up with ideas and then somehow getting others to do them,” Graff wrote.
Brother Carlton Clark, two years younger than Cloyd, agreed with that. “That’s Cloyd,” Carlton said, “yes, it was.”
Carlton, an attorney in the Clarks’ hometown of Elwood, often was the follow-up guy. For instance, when the owners of the Deere Creek Norwegian Church and Cemetery, located about 35 miles east of McCook, died, the property was left to the three trustees, including the two Clark brothers, who both received their law degrees from UNL in 1970.
“ ‘Take care of that, will you, Carlie,’ ” Carlton recalled of his brother’s request. “Somehow, I was doing most of the work.”
Storyteller? Cloyd likely would tell a tale just as soon as he sat down for lunch. He was instrumental in the 20-year success of the Buffalo Commons Storytelling Festival in McCook. With his walrus mustache and glasses, Cloyd bore some resemblance to Teddy Roosevelt. In fact, he twice played the role of the old Rough Rider in Arsenic and Old Lace in the Southwest Nebraska Community Theatre.
He was active in many other McCook organizations and judicial associations. Judge Clark created the Prairie Plains Court Appointed Special Advocates Program for the safety and well-being of children who appeared in his courtroom. He might even share some of his culinary specialty, homemade sourdough bread, with the parents.
My contact with Cloyd was infrequent over the years although my wife, Cathy, and I did stop in McCook a few years ago on a trip from Texas to Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota. We had dinner with Cloyd and his wife, Linda. Loquacious as always, Cloyd offered his expertise on Teddy Roosevelt.
Cloyd and I were close in college. We were journalism majors and worked several semesters on The Daily Nebraskan, affectionately known as The Rag. In fact, Cloyd was the recipient of a William Randolph Hearst Writing Award. Cloyd and I originated the Delta Tau Delta newsletter, the Beta Tau Blaster, which is still published.
Les Marshall grew up with Cloyd in Elwood. We were members of the 1959 Delt pledge class. Although I was from the big city of Lincoln, I roomed in the Delt house for four years. And Cloyd was one of my roommates.
Which brings us back to the Blue Darter. In reality, the Darter was Cloyd’s 1947 blue Plymouth Coupe. A nice ride in those days. A lot of the brothers, myself included, didn’t have a car on campus. So Cloyd, always a generous guy, would lend the Darter to anyone who needed transportation for a weekend date.
I often wondered what happened to the Blue Darter. Turns out it was passed on to brother Carlton with some disheartening results.
After Cloyd graduated with his bachelor’s degree in journalism and political science in 1963, he joined the Peace Corps.
“He was sent to Hawaii for training for service in Thailand. Since he was from rural Nebraska, they figured he had an agricultural expertise so they put him in charge of water buffaloes in a rice paddy,” Carlton said.
“That didn’t work out so Cloyd was terminated from the Peace Corps.”
Cloyd enlisted in the Army. Initially, he was sent to Fort Leonard Wood, Mo., but opted for officer training at Fort Sill, Okla. As such, he became a second lieutenant in artillery and served three years in the Dominican Republic.
When he left for Fort Sill, he willed the Blue Darter to Carlton and left it in a Lincoln parking garage. But when Carlton came to Lincoln over Christmas break, he couldn’t find the garage.
Several weeks later, Carlton received a letter from Cloyd at Fort Sill with a parking ticket for the garage.
“With joy, I found the garage, but the extended charge (for the Darter’s garage stay) was $125,” Carlton recalled. “That was more money than I had on me so I opened a checking account at the National Bank of Commerce.”
However, when Carlton walked out of the bank, he was greeted by a parking meter officer and two policemen. They threatened to arrest Carlton for possession of a stolen vehicle. After some discussion and clarification, he convinced them of his innocence.
Still, they insisted the car had to be towed because it had 130 parking tickets in the back seat, courtesy of those frat rats who just tossed their citations backward. So, Carlton had to bail out the Darter a second time. He paid for a tow fee, a lock fee and the old parking tickets.
“It cost several hundred dollars, more than the car was worth,” Carlton lamented.
The Darter remained in the Clark family for several years until younger brother Kendall drove it into a ditch, ending its life.
What was Cloyd’s reaction to Carlton’s misadventures with the Darter? “He chuckled,” Carlton said.
Cloyd always enjoyed a good story.