Thumbing through the Feb. 11, 2006, issue of Billboard — a 75th birthday tribute to Clarence Avant — brings back many memories.
Like my first encounter with Clarence sometime in 2000. Having heard about this revered gentleman, I happened to find myself standing near him at an industry function. As I timidly introduced myself, he shook my outstretched hand and said politely, “Yes, you work for that ofay [slang for white] publication.” I had no immediate response to that except to laugh (we both did) because he was right. At that time, inclusion and equity — two of Clarence’s lifelong missions — still weren’t climbing to the top of the music industry’s business charts. And Clarence wasn’t afraid to call out bullshit when he saw it.
Or when Clarence saw me having breakfast one morning and summoned me to his table. He relayed how disappointed he was in a major label executive who’d wrongly accused me of always writing negatively about him and his company. He didn’t have to (and I was unaware until he told me), but Clarence took it upon himself to step in, admonish the executive and set things straight … an example of his storied brokering, mentoring and counseling behind the scenes — and never done for public credit.
And when Clarence’s children Nicole and Alex reached out about surprising their father with a birthday salute in Billboard. I watched and listened intently as an unsuspecting Clarence looked back at his life and career — from growing up a humble country boy to becoming the pioneering godfather to the Black music community. During that interview, I saw and felt the unwavering passion, perseverance, dedication, joy and, yes, the cuss-peppered anger and frustration that drove Clarence as he worked across industry aisles advocating for opportunity and parity.
“I did it because there was no one else out here doing it,” he declared in 2006. “Black folks [in this industry] had never had anybody they could talk to. The white boys would only give up so much information. My doors were open. And I got involved.”
From then on, we’d chat over lunches or periodic just-checking-in phone calls during which the impish raconteur would regale me with colorful stories about the industry and other circles that he traveled in, from philanthropy to politics. And if I needed perspective for a story that I was working on, a generous Clarence would always take my call.
The last time I saw him was in April at the dedication ceremony for the South Los Angeles facility named after his lovely wife, the Jacqueline Avant Children and Family Center. It was both a joyous and very emotional occasion for the noticeably frailer industry giant. But Clarence still possessed his signature sly, mischievous grin and joking banter.
I joined the Clarence Avant fan club later than most. However, I’m thankful for the precious times we spent together. And for the key lesson he taught me, which I’ll continue to embrace in his honor: Keep paying it forward.
