My friend Joe, Joe Clark, came from a tiny place in the mountains, Cumberland Gap, Tennessee.
Though he moved away young to make a living, his heart never left.
And through his camera, the world came to know his beloved hills and hollows and his
people in both Appalachia and in America's industrial heartland of Detroit.
Joe's greatest gift wasn't his technical skill of a master photographer, though he certainly
was that.
Joe Clark had a way of capturing the extraordinary and ordinary moments.
Every picture tells a story, Joe, like to say.
In one frame at a time, Joe Clark told some of the best American stories, stories about
the regular folks, about quiet craftsmanship, about the pride of the place.
The first time Joe raised a camera, his photos were good enough for Life magazine.
And yet, Joe always called himself the hillbilly snapshoter.
His enduring subjects were simple things.
The warmth of home, the value of craftsmanship, the power of good friendships.
So Joe was a natural choice for photographer when Jack Daniels developed its first ad
campaign in the 50s, focusing on the distillery and its people in Lynchburg, Tennessee.
Joe hired on and over the next 38 years, his images helped transform the company's product
from barely known to the world's best-selling whiskey.
Yet Joe never acted like a big-time photographer.
He was always just Joe, around Lynchburg, in the rickyard, by the still house, around
the barrel trucks.
Joe greeted folks by name.
He shared laughs.
Everyone soon forgot about the camera and the master in their midst.
Like Jack Daniels, Joe's magic wasn't so much about making whiskey or taking pictures
as about sustaining relationships.
He showed us something important about what's best in ourselves.
And that's why I'm here to honor my dear friend of long, Joe Clark.
