I am not given to hyperbole or exaggeration, but when I say that a giant passed among us, even if we were not aware of his enormous stature, I am making an honest assessment of my dear friend of more than a half-century, Kenneth Bancroft Clark. It was no casual meeting in the fall of l947, when I encountered him for the first time, although I had no idea that the pro forma introduction would lead to some of the most momentous and significant experiences of my life. We worked together on several cases leading to the desegregation of colleges and secondary schools, most notably in Lyman Johnson v. the University of Kentucky and Brown v. Board of Education.
Surely in the latter case, Kenneth, who died on May 1 at age 90, was the recognized hero among those of us who were not members of the bar. Counsel for Linda Brown used, in their brief, the experiment that Clark had used to indicate the extent to which racial practices had poisoned the minds and views even of black children. When presented with black and white dolls, black children expressed a preference for white dolls. In a segregated environment, racism was so pervasive that the black children wanted nothing that was related to blackness. This finding so impressed the Supreme Court that Chief Justice Earl Warren referred to it in the landmark decision in which he declared segregated public schools unconstitutional.
Superb and gifted teacher that Kenneth was, I learned much from him not merely about the psychology of race relations, of which he was the consummate master, but also about using history to formulate strategies for combating the virus of racism. Kenneth knew, better than anyone with whom I am acquainted, that one could not combat racism by withdrawing from the fray and retreating into a cocoon that would isolate one from the hate and hurt of the segregationists.
He would argue throughout his life that the only way to combat racism was by a head-on encounter with it -- in its very worst forms -- and by staring it down, exposing its notorious fallacies and sheer absurdities. Through his public platforms and his writings, he helped transform the fight for equality and racial justice into a meaningful movement. He was a public intellectual in the best sense of the term; and he deserves that designation more than anyone whom I can name. He was not merely a theoretical social psychologist but an everyday, down-to-earth, applied psychologist.
With his dear Mamie, he founded and promoted the anti-poverty agency Harlem Youth Opportunities Unlimited (HARYOU), as well as the Metropolitan Applied Research Center (MARC). They contributed significantly to transformation not only of the racial climate in Harlem and the lives of those served by them but in the example they provided to others who adopted the methods the Clarks had developed. Both of these organizations had programs of real substance -- such as learning racial pride, preparing for employment, and honing organizational skills. And they were carried out in terms that everyone could understand. He was truly a catalyst for change.
Nowhere was this more apparent than in his leadership of a group of African American scholars whom he called together, in l979, to exchange ideas about the increasingly complex and difficult state of the civil rights movement. I was honored that he asked me to serve as co-chair of the group. Sometimes called the Hastie Group -- after the attorney, federal judge, and governor of the Virgin Islands who had given the group his blessing -- its discussions involved suggestions of how to address problems of black separatism, poverty, and frustration among African American college students and the demand by some to retreat to a separate black community. The Hastie Group became a structured activity, thanks to the sponsorship by the Joint Center for Political Studies, with more than two dozen scholars meeting regularly to discuss problems such as the Black Family, Adult Illiteracy, Post-Secondary Education, Employment, and Political Options. Several valuable handbooks or workbooks emerged from these meetings. This was Kenneth's brainchild, and, if there were those among us who were enthusiastic about possibilities that the Committee on a Policy for Racial Justice would steer us into a better and brighter future, we were grateful to Kenneth for leading the way.
Through his public platforms and his writings, as well as his activism, he helped transform the fight for equality and racial justice into a meaningful movement. He could be counted on to transform his views into a viable and practical program for the betterment of all. One thing I admired most about Kenneth was his refusal to compromise his own fundamental values. He was uncompromising in his beliefs; where principle was concerned, he was impatient with -- indeed, intolerant of -- nonsense. After he was referred to in the public press as the last integrationist, I insisted to him that I, not he, was the last integrationist. For once, I do not covet or cherish the title.
It is important for me to say that Kenneth Clark was one of the four or five most influential people in my life. We were intimate friends, and I cherished his friendship with an uncommon joy. My late wife, Aurelia, and I spent many happy days in the Clark household; and since their birthdays were close together in July, he and she relished the joint celebrations they occasionally shared. His infectious sense of humor and his devotion to his family were among the personal traits I most admired. I shall always be indebted to him for dogged determination to contribute to a new and significant approach to the solution of the many ills of our society. He was and remains a giant among men. We owe him more than we can ever repay.
John Hope Franklin, the author of From Slavery to Freedom: A History of African-Americans, is the James B. Duke Professor Emeritus of History at Duke University.
