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| Kevin Costner in Fandango. |
When I was eleven years old, my mother had to break the unfortunate news to me and my sister that our father had passed away. Later I would find out it was a suicide. Regardless, it was life-changing for all of us, but I don't think I fully realized it for the first five years after. We, the three of us, figured out how to make it work and life went on as best it could.
When I turned sixteen, it was time for another less significant life-changing moment: I got my first job. For me, my first foray into the workforce would be at a movie theatre located at 963 Houston Northcut Boulevard in Mount Pleasant, South Carolina. If you drive by there nowadays its called Cinebarre but back in the year 2000 it was Movies at Mount Pleasant. For as long as it had been in existence I had been going to see movies there with my mother and sister. Now I was getting the opportunity to see it from the other side. I met quite a few people that first day, some I still have contact with to this very day. But maybe one of the most significant was when a man named John Clark introduced himself to me.
John Clark was the assistant manager with perfectly combed jet black hair, button-down shirt, tie, and a bag slung over his shoulder. He just looked and acted like the coolest person I had ever met.
Here’s where things connect.
I hadn’t really realized in the years since my father’s passing that I didn’t have that male role model in life and actually how much I really wanted it. I followed John around everywhere at the theatre. I worked hard at the theatre to make him proud. Why? I didn’t know this guy. But I did get to know him. And he became someone I wanted to be. Someone that had worked hard, reached a certain level of success in his career and had a family. Besides that, he loved talking about movies and sports, especially the Cowboys.
I have to skip ahead here because it’s necessary to explain why I’m talking about my boss from my first job.
On Thanksgiving morning I learned that John Clark passed away at the age of 51.
It stunned me. It floored me. It left me without words for a while. For the second time in my life, I had lost a father.
You see, after high school, my journey gets a little wild with a sudden halt in my college experience to help my mother at home. At the age of eighteen, I had to grow up a little more than I already had. It was time to start paying real bills and not just working a job for CD or cell phone money. Movies at Mount Pleasant became my life, working anywhere from 40-60 hours a week. And during that time I was fortunate to lean on and learn so much from John Clark. First, the fun things: Newcastle is a good beer, Parliament is a smooth cigarette, Kodiak tobacco can make you dry heave the first time you dip it, and never intentionally scratch during a pool game.
By no means was he a bad influence. John Clark was a benevolent enabler. There were plenty of late nights after the theatre had shut down that he’d pull out a six-pack of Newcastle, and we would just talk about life with cigarettes. Sometimes he had to hear the same sad story from me about which girl didn’t like me that I liked a lot. Every time he’d tell me everything will work out, just not how you think. I didn’t believe it but as the years have gone on, he was exactly right. He was so encouraging during those times when I had no car and seemingly felt like I was spiraling without any direction. I still worked hard at my job. I always did. But I often questioned if I would ever push on to be a writer or filmmaker.
John Clark never left me with any doubt. He was always encouraging.
When I ascended to assistant manager under him as general manager, I was scared to death. I was 22 years old. Could I really be a manager of people my same age or younger? He made me believe and exposed me to another gear of hard work. Payroll, scheduling, inventory, hiring, escalations. It was hard work, but I was always up to the challenge because I just wanted to make him proud.
I eventually moved on from the theatre after eight years in the business. John Clark would as well not long after. We kept in touch on and off again, even with random texts of Beamens gum or a picture of Al Pacino and Johnny Depp that I joked was the two of us from the theatre days. I thought about him often even though we’d miss each other in conversation.
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| Not John Clark or myself but how I'd like to think about our relationship. |
I miss him so much. I looked at myself in the mirror today and realized I still comb my hair to this day because of him. I quote Goodfellas, Glengarry Glen Ross, Apocalypse Now, Tombstone, and Fandango because of how often we’d talk about them. I can’t watch Scent of a Woman without thinking about his Pacino expression he could turn on so quickly. Beyond that, its all the stuff I mentioned earlier. The intangibles when it comes to working hard for yourself and your family.
It's really hard to find a silver lining in death when you’re in the thick of it. I think if there is some ray of light in this, it’s the fact that you never know who you can impact in your life. John Clark helped shape me as a man and a father. He didn’t have to be a mentor to me but he chose to be one. I can only hope that in my life I am fortunate enough to be a mentor of that magnitude for my children or someone else that needs it.
Thank you, John Clark. When my father passed, he received a special statue from the Marine Corps that said: “Your brothers will never forget you.”
Those you knew you will never forget you, John Clark, and neither will I.
