Written by Professor J. E. Guardia of Louisiana State Normal College

Middle-aged and a bachelor, red-heade, freckle-faced, tall, gaunt, of high-pitched nervous voice, abrupt in speech, and incredibly swift in all his movements--such was Minor Clinton.

The soul of honesty, the acme of reliability, the model of patience, strength, and endurance, and the last word in friendliness and sympathy--that, too, was Minor Clinton.

Mr. Clinton came to the Normal from Coushatta seeking employment. He had not had the advantages of even a high school education, so was given general oversight of the school buildings, to see that they were kept warm, clean, and ventilated. So efficiently did he do this work that he rapidly took on more and more responsibilities, until his duties included carrying the mail to and from town, ringing by hand all schedule bells, superintending the dairy, having general oversight of the grounds, and serving the President (in those days before the Normal had telephones) as a runner of errands. How he ever did so much, and was so punctual, no one could ever understand. Even at night he was supposed to "sleep with one eye open" lest things go wrong on the campus. But withal he was never too busy to do a favor for the individual, or to speak a word of cheer.

From 1898 to 1908 Mr. Clinton occupied a comfortable but sort of guard-house room that stood almost where the Normal sundial now is. To the young men students who were fortunate enough to be extended the hospitality of his den (though he never called it that) this room was a haven of rest, a counsel chamber where good advice and, often, financial assistance was forthcoming, and where "eats" were enjoyed. Many a school man now high in the service of Louisiana were helped by him.

The girls of the Boarding Club regarded this retreat for the boys as a sort of Pandora's Box which they desired to look into. The walls were covered with photographs of former students; there were gift sofa pillows for which he had not earthly use; there were all sorts of offerings that testified to the love of the students but which only made his room look like a curiosity shop. Everybody knew and everybody loved Mr. Clinton.

In the prime of life he was stricken with disease and now lies buried in the cemetery at Pollock, Louisiana.

J Minor Clinton