On any given Sunday evening, you’d probably find about a dozen or so fraternity brothers from Towson University gathered at Eugene “Gene” Clark’s house.

The longtime adviser to Phi Beta Sigma, a historically Black fraternity, was usually whipping up a classic Southern meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and mac and cheese. And you couldn’t have dinner without dessert — a made-from-scratch carrot or coconut cake. As he cooked, some of the brothers did laundry, played pool and relaxed.

After their weekly fraternity chapter meeting, Clark joked and chatted with the brothers. When the night wound down, he’d head upstairs. He trusted the men to let themselves out of his Owings Mills home.

“We had everything we needed there,” said Malwan Johnson, a fraternity brother who spent many Sundays at Clark’s house. “He was just selfless. It was a selfless thing. That just meant a whole lot. That started your week off in the right way.”

It was just in Clark’s nature, friends and colleagues said. He was always the person you called when something went awry. He always had a life lesson to impart.

He was a “fixer,” Johnson said, who championed civil rights and social equality in his professional life. As the longtime chief of staff for state Sen. Charles Sydnor, a Baltimore County Democrat, he mentored political staffers and used his vast connections to make Maryland a better place.

If he were here now, he’d probably tell his proteges to lean on each other for support, they said. All of them carry a little bit of Clark with them every day.

Clark, known for his keen sense of justice, problem-solving skills, blunt communication and generous mentorship, died May 27 of cancer. He was 81.

He was born Sept. 2, 1943, in Mississippi, the only boy born to Hassie Jane Clark and Willie Manning. He and two sisters came from a modest upbringing, primarily raised by their grandmother. After graduating from high school, he enlisted in the Air Force.

He spent four years in the military, including two in Madrid. While in the Air Force, he started taking classes at the University of Maryland University College, now known as the University of Maryland Global Campus. He earned a bachelor’s degree and went on to receive master’s and doctoral degrees from Morgan State University, Sydnor said.

Clark always seemed to have a sharp sense of right and wrong, and social justice was an early career interest. He founded the firm E. Clark and Associates and worked as an equal employment opportunity officer and investigator. He held similar positions while working for the Baltimore City government and the Maryland State Lottery.

Clark joined Phi Beta Sigma in 1983, becoming a member of its Zeta Sigma Chapter, which was specifically formed for Baltimore men with no official chapter affiliation at a local college.

“We say our model is culture for service and service for humanity,” Johnson said. “He absolutely exemplified both of those things.”

Through the years, Clark became an adviser to fraternity members across Maryland — the Towson boys were his favorite, he always joked, but he also spent weekends feeding and hanging out with students from Morgan, Bowie, Frostburg and Coppin state universities, as well as the University of Maryland, Baltimore County.

There are generations of men who see Clark as an older brother or a father figure. He helped them learn new skills and let them make mistakes, but he never let them fail completely. He was always there to bring things back on track.

“He was one of those people that when he walked into a room, he wasn’t the biggest person in the room, but he felt like the biggest person in the room,” said Andre Ifill, another fraternity brother and mentee.

Ifill will always remember the support Clark offered when he was diagnosed with leukemia and when his brother died. In both instances, Clark jumped in not only to help with logistics, but to help take care of his son and offer family support.

Frank Porter, who joined the Towson chapter of Phi Beta Sigma the first year that Clark started mentoring there, said he was once harassed by Baltimore County police while in college. After coming back from the police station, he went straight to Clark, who was outraged. He called up the chief of police — because he just had those connections — and that was that.

“He never asked us for anything and always contributed,” Porter said.

In 2000, Clark was named Sigma Man of the Year.

Clark was close with his sisters and extended family, many of whom live in other states. He played the role of patriarch and provided his family with anything they needed.

He often drove out to attend family cookouts and host lavish Thanksgiving meals, said Lisa Dingle, who met Clark while she attended Towson University and considers him a father figure.

“He was really supporting so many people, providing so much support and mentorship that he had a way of making everyone feel just so special,” Dingle said.

Clark also had a huge space in his heart for HBCUs, and he was locally involved in the NAACP and the Baltimore County West Democratic Club. His moral compass was guided by his faith, and he was a longtime member of New Shiloh Baptist Church.

Clark made his formal entrance into politics when Sydnor was contemplating running for office in 2013. The two had known each other through mutual contacts in the fraternity, and Clark knew he could use his expertise and people skills to do good for the people of Baltimore County. He became Sydnor’s chief of staff in 2015 and held the role until the day he died.

He played a critical role in securing state funding for HBCUs, establishing a historical marker about school desegregation in Baltimore County and supporting other public education and social justice efforts. He was a no-nonsense kind of person, Sydnor said, who didn’t suffer fools.

“He was somebody who, if you told him no, his thing was: How do I get to yes?” Sydnor said.

His bluntness didn’t always make him the best-liked person in the room, but he was well respected, friends and colleagues said. He took criticism and debate in stride. One of his signature phrases was “Let’s keep it moving.”

“You’re not going to sit there and wallow,” Porter said. “You’re not going to sit there and say, ‘Woe is me,’ no matter what — whether it’s a death in your family, whether you’re at your last dime, you’re struggling. … You figure it out.”

It’s a mantra Clark’s loved ones are trying to embrace anew after spending a month in a world without him. As he would say: Let’s keep it moving.

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