'Flap Jack King' an inspiration

Bill Jones was a terrific athlete, he had a green thumb, he was a whiz with numbers, and he was an agent for social change. But he didn't like calling attention to himself.

"Let me tell you a story," said Billy Jones Jr., one of his two sons.

"I remember asking him, 'What did you do in the Army?' and he said, 'Aw, I drove a truck.'

"But he was a war hero. When we were preparing for his funeral, we found his discharge papers and there were all kinds of medals."

Jones Sr. died last month at age 95.

There were no banner headlines or public memorials in connection with his passing, but this was a man who will be remembered for generations by those whose lives he touched.

"What I remember most about my father is that he was always there," Jones Jr. said Friday from his home in Katy, Texas.

"My mama was very active in the church, for 50 years; she traveled all over the place. She couldn't have done that without him being there for me and my brother."

Jones Jr. also remembers his dad as someone who "could grow anything."

He earned a half-dozen citations in his three-year stint in the military during World War II.

And his athletic skills were legendary, in multiple sports.

He didn't start bowling until he was in his 50s but, "Our house was full of bowling trophies," his son said.

"(Russell) Muffley at the funeral home used to bowl with him. He told me, 'Me and your mom, we were just out to have fun. He was serious.'"

In March 2000, Bill Jones rolled a perfect 300 game at Clovis' Mainline Bowl. He was 78 years old. Gene Davis, the manager at the bowling alley, said at the time he checked around and determined Jones was the oldest man to ever bowl a 300 in New Mexico.

In the late 1960s, Clovis school officials began to realize that integration needed to include teachers and even administrators, in addition to students.

Port Beasley was the assistant superintendent who helped spearhead those efforts. One of the first African-Americans he thought about for a leadership role in Clovis' schools was Bill Jones.

Jones was principal at Lincoln-Jackson school at the time. He'd started teaching at the all-black school on Clovis' west side in 1953 and had earned the respect of his students and faculty and pretty much every other individual with whom he had contact.

Longtime Clovis-Portales educator G. C. Ross first came to know Jones as a recreational volleyball player in the mid-1960s.

"He was real good," Ross remembered. "He had large hands and he could go up there and cram one right down your throat."

But despite his athletic skills and size — about 6-feet-2 inches — Ross said what stood out about Jones was his laid-back nature.

"Bill was a real gracious individual," said Ross.

"He always had a deep voice, but was calm in every situation. I never saw Bill angry. I just don't think it was in his DNA."

Bruce Pollard was a student at Lincoln-Jackson when he came to know Coach Jones.

Pollard also noted Jones' relaxed demeanor.

"He didn't raise his voice. He always used the same tone," Pollard said.

If competition became heated, "He'd say, 'Now, now, just calm down.'

"He talked slow and he walked slow. I never saw him get excited. I didn't know if he could get excited."

Clovis schools don't keep records that reflect such things, but both Ross and Clovis City Commissioner Sandra Taylor-Sawyer said Jones was the first black man they remembered working out of Clovis' Central Office, a position he held from 1970 until his retirement in 1986.

When Beasley recruited him, there were few black teachers outside Clovis' predominately minority schools. But Jones' job at Central Office wasn't symbolic. He was named the district's principal purchasing agent.

Anything the district bought — from pencils to new buildings — had to be approved by Jones.

"I think he enjoyed it because he liked to deal with numbers," Ross said. "He was good at that."

Jones, remember, was good at just about everything.

As a teenager, he was something of a culinary artisan. He specialized in pancakes, bacon and eggs, family members said. His friends liked them so much they gave him the nickname, "Peter Red the Flap Jack King."

"Pete," as he was known to family members, will probably never have a statue in his honor erected in a city park. That wouldn't reflect his personality. But his legacy is secure.

"When I was in high school, I looked through our school annual and I realized that there was only one face that looked like me. That was Mr. Jones," said Taylor-Sawyer, who graduated from Clovis High in 1979.

"I appreciate him being such a great role model, even though I never did tell him that he was an inspiration to me."

No worries. Bill Jones, too, was a man whose actions spoke louder than his words.

David Stevens is editor for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at: [email protected]

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