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Biographical sketch of REV. LESTER CLARK from the book entitled, "Biographical Memoirs of Saint Clair County, Michigan," published in 1903 by B. F. Bowen Publishers in Indiana.
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This bio spans four (4) pages and contains a photograph of the Rev. and Mrs. Lester Clark:
REV. LESTER CLARK
Rev. Lester Clark was born in Rutland county, Vermont, April 22, 1833, a son of Amasa and Roxanna (Carpenter) Clark, the former of whom was born in the same state January 17, 1812, and died in St. Clair county, Michigan, March 8, 1893. He came to St. Clair county in 1850, and settled on forty acres of land in the wilds of Berlin township. He cut the first road to his log cabin, into which he moved before the doors were in. The forest was full of bears, deer, wolves and turkeys, the last being so numerous that he attempted to kill them by throwing rocks. The Riley tribe of Indians then occupied that region and it was among them that the Clark home was established. They were friendly, and young Lester carried on quite a traffic with them, becoming somewhat intimate with the chief, of whom he learned many of the woodman’s arts, so that he had more than ordinary success as a hunter, killing in one season as many as twenty-one deer.
Joseph Carpenter, the father of Roxana (sic) Clark, came from Vermont to St. Clair county, Michigan, in 1830, being among the pioneers of that section. After Amasa Clark had partially cleared his land he removed to Fremont township, Sanilac county, on the northern boundary line of St. Clair township, and purchased one hundred and sixty acres of partly cleared land. While at work he had the misfortune to fall and break a hip bone, from which injury he died a year later. He lived and died in the faith of the Methodist Protestant church and in politics was a Republican. His children were: Mary, Lester, Eveline, Angeline, Philinda, Susan, Jason, Newton, Dallas, Pearl and two who died in infancy.
Lester Clark married July 9, 1855, Miss Susan Smith, a daughter of Albert and Lavina (Atwell) Smith, who came from Canada to St. Clair county the same year in which his parents came. Mr. and Mrs. Clark have eight children, viz: Eveline first married Franklin Jones, who died five years later; she then married John Black, who also died five years after marriage, and she now conducts a millinery store in Yale; Roxy is married to John Collins, a farmer of Lynn township; Lavina died at four years of age; Melinda died in infancy; Jason is a merchant in Saginaw, and is married to Addie Leaman; Carrie makes her home with her sister, Mrs. Black; Alice is the wife of Charles Ferguson, a painter of Yale; and Lester is at home.
Mr. Clark, although owning eighty acres in a fine state of cultivation, has been a clergyman in the Methodist Protestant church thirty-seven years, and as such laid the foundations of nine church edifices. He was for three years formerly a minister of the Methodist Episcopal church, traveling and preaching all through St. Clair and adjoining counties as a circuit rider. He is now living in retirement on his farm south of Yale. He cast his first presidential vote for James Buchanan, but is not at present an adherent of any political organization. The following reminiscences furnished by Mr. Clark will no doubt be of interest to the readers:
“While working in a shanty in the woods I feel in with the Rev. Thomas Nichols, of the Methodist Episcopal conference, who said to me, “Clark, you ought to preach,” and said that he would announce that I would speak in Speaker township, in an old log school house in the woods. The night came and I arrived on time, having walked six miles. Others had arrived, too, including many boys, with whisky bottles and the like to help on the spirit of the revival. I took for a text, ‘And Satan appeared also.’ I had talked for only a few minutes when one man arose and said: ‘Mr. Clark, what business have you to come up here and abuse us neighbors?’ What have we ever done to you?’ Then two others got up and spoke. Well, I just listened while they gave their testimonies and afterward went on with the service. The next night, on my way to the old log school house, I stopped for a while to pray in the woods and to ask God to give me some evidence that night as to whether or not He wanted me to preach. Well, I arrived and found the school house full again with the same crowd I had the night before. I took for a text, ‘Almost though persuadest me to be a Christian.’ I had only talked a few minutes when the first speaker of the preceding night arose and said, ‘I’m an awful sinner; if it is possible for me to be a Christina, I want to be one,’ and he requested prayer. Then the other speakers of the preceding night arose and said about the same, and still others, until nine in all had asked for prayers, and gave themselves to God. Well, it was glorious, and forever after that I never doubted my call to the work.
“In the year 1862 I conducted a camp-meeting in the township of Wales. For a few evening I was assisted by Father Tomlinson, president of the Methodist Protestant conference, a man full of the Holy Ghost. The community was infested with spiritualists, and when the meeting had gotten well under way they assembled with us, with one Mr. Cole, a medium, and had secretly arranged to form a circle and bring us all under their spiritualistic spell. This Mr. Cole came with us to the altar, Father Tomlinson kneeling at one side of him and I at the other. Father Tomlinson prayed thus: ‘O God, demonstrate thy power over familiar spirits and devils,’ and after praying for some time I prayed. All the time the old spiritualist kept waving his hands over the heads of those around him, and when I had finished praying he put his arm around me a drew me close up to him, struck me with his half-closed hand upon the breast three times. He might as well have hugged an oak tree, for all the influence it had upon me. The people kept agonizing in prayer, when suddenly Father Tomlinson cried out, ‘O thou familiar spirit, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, come out of that man,’ and instantly Cole fell flat upon the floor, and laid there for over two hours. The old man’s son, seeing what had happened, made a rush for the platform, jumped over the altar and cried for mercy, while others of the spiritualists disbanded. The old man slowly rallied and asked, ‘Where am I?’ What has happened?’ Father Tomlinson replied, ‘You are here, and God is here,’ and the old man answered, ‘Yes, I know God is here.’ Looking about he saw his son and said, ‘Are you here?’ The son replied, ‘Yes, father, glory to God, and I’ve got religion.’ The old man became thoroughly converted and died in the faith.
“After the experience with the spiritualists, I was invited to attend a social to be held at William Shirkey’s, in Wales township, and Mr. Shirkey wanted me to preach to them a little, which I consented to do. After the social a part of the company assembled in the dining room to engage in playful sports, when Mr. Shirkey came to me and said, ‘Elder, isn’t it time to have some preaching?’ I replied, ‘This is your house, and I am ready to preach it you wish it.’ He then called the assembly to order, and I stood in the doorway between the rooms and began to preach, when suddenly a man cried out, ‘You’re a liar.’ ‘Why, no,’ I answered. ‘God bless you, man, I love you,’ and I continued, when suddenly a second time he shouted out, ‘You’re a liar.’ Mr. Shirkey immediately sprang to his feet, and I feared a collision, but he took his chair and placed it directly in front of the man, then sat down, clenched his fist and held it up into the man’s face, and said, authoritatively, ‘Dry right up, or you see what you’ll get,’ and there he sat in front of his man while I preached the gospel to him. The man must have been suddenly possessed with an evil spirit, for on going home that night in company with his wife, he said to her, ‘What ever possessed me tonight? I would not have said that for my whole farm.’ These were evidently the days of demonical possession.
“In the year 1868 I was conducting a meeting at Grant Center, now Blaine, on the Sand Beach division of the Flint & Pere Marquette Railroad. In the neighborhood lived an old man by the named of Reeves. He was an infidel, the dread to the community, a man who had not been inside a church door for nigh twenty years. I thought I would call one day on Black River street, when a man said to me: ‘Mr. Reeves lives on Black River street. You had better not go in there, or he’ll take his cane to you.’ ‘Why,’ I said, ‘if God wants me to go in there he’ll take care of the old man, and the cane, and me, too,’ so I started for the house, walked up to the door and knocked. The door was opened and I entered. Upon the sofa, back to the stove, sat the old man with his cane in hand – of course ready for use. The old lady sat by the fire. After chatting a little I requested to have a prayer, when the old man replied, ‘I’ll let you know that I don’t have any praying in my house.’ So I said, ‘Well, father, perhaps you have no objections to me singing,’ and I commenced to sing ‘The Christian Soldier.’ The old man rose, gripped his cane, and intended to give me its weight, as he afterward confessed, but instead, however, he took his exit through the back door, so I bade the old lady a good morning. Soon afterward the old man was stricken with paralysis, and I again called upon him. I said to him, ‘Father, wouldn’t you like for me to have prayer with you this morning?’ ‘No, sire,’ he replied, ‘I’ve got my mind made up.’ Then the burden of his lost soul so weighed upon me that I simply sat on his bed and sobbed and groaned in the spirit. I then exhorted him, and told him of Jesus’ love, of how he saved the this on the cross, when suddenly, great drops of sweat gathered upon the old man’s face and he muttered, ‘God be merciful to me, a sinner.’ He soon afterward died, rejoicing in God’s pardoning love. In 1868 my wife and I were preparing to attend a camp-meeting. She had baked up all the flour in the house, and then said to me, ‘Now we’ve baked up all the flour in the house to go to this camp-meeting, what will we do for bread for the children when we come home?’ ‘Why, God bless you, woman,’ said I, ‘Don’t you know what God said about the ravens?’ Well, we attended, and had a glorious time. A Mr. Wilson fell under the mighty power of God and became gloriously converted. One day before the camp-meeting closed he came to me, put his hand upon my shoulder, and said: ‘The Lord sent me, Brother Clark, to see if you had flour in the house.’ So I told him what my wife had said, and what I said to her. ‘Well,’ said he, ‘there’ll be flour in your house when you get home,’ and so there was. In conclusion I may say that my ministerial work all through was made up of numerous remarkable incidents and experiences.”
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PLEASE NOTE: I do not have any personal interest in researching the CLARK surname or the St. Clair county, Michigan location. I am merely posting a select number of the biographical sketches found in the above-referenced book *upon specific written request* as a service to the genealogical community. Therefore, please do not contact me with regard to research interests in the above. Thank you.
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