Hark accepted each challenge as a new opportunity to learn

At left, on the radio, is John Hark, at the scene of the Hannibal-LaGrange College administration building fire, June 22, 1989. At right is Ron McAfee, arson investigator.  Hannibal Courier-Post file photo.

MARY LOU  MONTGOMERY

John Hark went to work for the city of Hannibal in July 1972. The mayor at the time was Henry Glascock, a railroader by profession and Hark’s former father-in-law by association.

“I was somewhat of a rebellious young man when I was young,” Hark said. “Henry Glascock, (who apparently saw some potential) called and asked me to come down. He wanted me to set up a traffic department, painting streets.

“I had worked for the highway department so I had a little working knowledge,” Hark said.

When it came time to paint the lines on Broadway, “Henry said to meet him at 4 a.m. at Maple and Broadway.”

Glascock told Hark: “You get (the machine) in the center of the street and paint right straight toward me.”

“I got the big old paint machine in the middle of Broadway,” and Glascock got in his vehicle and started driving east on Broadway.  “He went through Tenth Street light … Seventh Street … and put his brake lights on at Fifth Street.

“He got out of his car and stood in the middle of street.” 

It was dark out, and from seven blocks away, Hark could barely see Glascock standing in the road. But following orders from his new boss,  “I took off with the paint machine, and down the middle of Broadway I went.” When Hark arrived at Fifth Street, Glascock moved on to the corner of Main and Broadway.

“We both got to Main and Broadway,” and they turned to look westward, up the Broadway hill, in order to view their work. There was a bright yellow center line, they both saw.  “But it looks like a drunken sailor painted it,” Glascock said.

“I would nothing but agree,” Hark said.

“That was Henry. He was quite a mayor; quite a man. Rough on the edges, an old boy. But if Henry liked you, he liked you.”

(Hark later learned that a better technique would have been to measure from curb to curb, and to put out a string line and follow that string.)

“It was July 1972, and I was working for the city; a high school drop out no less,” Hark said.

Mayor Glascock once again called Hark into his office.

“I want you to be our Civil Defense man for Hannibal and Marion County,” Glascock said. 

“I didn’t know what that was. I knew about the Cold War era, duck and cover, but that’s all I knew about it. But I said OK.”

So now he was traffic superintendent and director of Civil Defense.

Then Henry told him that part of his duties would be flood fighting.

“Um, OK,” Hark said.

Good suggestion

In the late 1970s, Charles A. (Charlie) Brister was working as city engineer. “Charlie and I hit it off real well. 

“Charlie talked to me; ‘John, why don’t you go back to school and get you a diploma?’”

“Well, maybe … I gave it a little thought.

“I went to Eugene Field (school) one evening. Bonnie Glendenning, she was running the program for high school drop outs, to get a GED. I started taking classes and Bonnie came to me one evening:

“I think you’re ready to take the GED.”

“Low and behold, I did it and got my GED. That was as great as any diploma. Getting that GED in the mail. It was something that intrigued me, then I thought: ‘I can do better yet.’

“I went to HLG,  knowing nothing about college prep; I could take three hours here and three hours there, that’s all I could afford, and all I had time for.

“I continued to do that over two or three years (in order) to finish. I got my degree in criminal justice. I felt better about my attitude, my way in life.

“Everything I undertook with the city, conferences or training, I went to, because I had this complex I was a high school drop out.  There was something that kept calling me to try to do better and improve.”

Floods

“I had seen a lot of floods in my early life. Then low and behold” it was July 1973, “and we had one of worst floods ever in the history of Hannibal. Our whole downtown area went under water. I went up and down streets talking to businesses, and told them what was likely to happen. Some didn’t get too concerned about it. But it caused tremendous damage to much of downtown. We were  able to recover from it, and rebuild and go on.

“Anybody who thinks they know the river, he is foolish. You cannot control the Mississippi River; that river will do what it wants to do.”

In the spring of 1993, Hark was on vacation in Savannah, Ga., and he and his son-in-law went deep sea fishing in Jacksonville, Fla.

On the way back to Georgia, “He was driving and I was half asleep. Something came on the news about Iowa and Wisconsin getting 7 1/2 inches of rain all across the state.

“My God,” he thought to himself, “that is all going to come right down by Hannibal.”

He got back to his daughter’s house at 1 o’clock in the morning, and was told that the mayor had called. (By this time, Richard Schwartz was in office.)

“He said to call whenever you got in. So I called him.

“Fat boy,” (that was the mayor’s nickname for John Hark) “we need you to come home.”

“I’m two days away,” Hark said. “but I’ll start heading that way.”

That didn’t appease the mayor, who said, “We’ll fly you home.”

“I knew it was serious then. I caught a plane out that morning at 6 o’clock. I made the arrangements for the fire chief (my brother, Roy Hark) to pick me up in Quincy.

“I left my car and my luggage in Savannah.

“I got to city hall, at 9 o’clock that morning, and Richard was already there and fit to be tied.”

The prediction was calling for maybe 25 feet of water, “and we had the new levee in place, but had never used it and knew nothing about it.

“I set up a command post at city hall. The levee was structurally complete, but there was still a lot of cosmetic work that had to be done on it.

“In theory, it was a unique situation. The city didn’t own the levee yet, because it wasn’t complete. We talked to the Corps of Engineers about putting in the flood gates, and I talked to Bleigh, the contractors, who were building the levee.”

They all said it wasn’t their call to decide when the flood gates should be set in place.

“I was in a state of limbo. Who says when we set the flood gates?”

In chapter 44 of state statues, it says that the emergency management director, (a hat that Hark was now wearing) under a state of emergency, can make whatever call is necessary to protect the safety of the people.

So Hark made that call to set the gates in place.

“(That flood) was a major battle that we won, thanks to the Good Lord; it was one unique experience.”

Philosophy

“I’m a person who becomes passionate about what I do.

“I’m very passionate about the city of Hannibal and emergency management. After Charles Salyer retired I became street superintendent for several years. At one time I wore five hats, for city of Hannibal.

Hark joined state organization, the Emergency Manager Director’s Association, and in 1990 was elected president of that state association.

“I went from a high school drop out to a president of a state association representing all emergency management directors of the state of Missouri. That makes you feel real good.”

HLG fire

Another major disaster was the administration building fire at Hannibal-LaGrange College in June 1989. 

As emergency management director, he responded to the call.

"I got on the scene out there and parked my truck, with my portable radio. Two firefighters came out of the basement - Chief Hark and Becker Spaun.

“I hollered at Roy, 'What do you need?’

That answer is still entrenched in John Hark’s memory:

“John, they need every dam thing you can get me: men, departments, manpower, equipment.”

“I called all neighboring counties and jurisdictions. It was unbelievable the response we got. We had so many (trucks) that we had to set them up in the shopping center as a staging area. 

“They didn’t have enough water coming in on the campus, so we set up bladders. We were looking for tractor trailers, anybody who would haul water and dump it into those bladders.

“We had a tremendous response.

“That’s how we do things. People come together during a disaster to overcome that disaster and recoup from it. Whoever can help.”

The college fire was “a sad disappointing thing for me,” he said. “I graduated there; I was watching part of my history and my life burn to the ground. We couldn’t stop it.

“But you look at it today; it shows you what God can do. It came back bigger and better than it ever was.”

Time goes on

John Hark will turn 79 in February. While he has retired most of the hats he has worn throughout his career, he still wears one:

That of emergency management director for Marion County. 

“I think back and reminisce; this person and that person are gone. Nobody is around who was here when I started. They are all gone. That’s kind of sad and scary, in a way.”

“Wake up every day, put one foot in front of the other, and move forward; do the best you can do and help. You can make a difference. That’s that’s the story of life.”

John Hark, who has worked in emergency management in some capacity since the early 1970s, still serves as emergency management director for Marion County. Contributed photo.