By Emilia Azar – 2014
“You’re going to change the world,” Alexa announced to me on our car ride to the mountainous terrain of North Carolina. Who knew the same concept would come up the next day with a complete stranger? And from a man named Cliff Owl, no less.
Cliff Owl is the kind of name you imagine for a fictional character in an old western movie. The good guy, the solid man, and the strong presence that keeps you feeling both safe and intrigued. Cliff Owl is not a fictional character – he is a real-life magistrate. He resides in Murphy and works both in and out of the courthouse, which is situated in the heart of downtown. My heavy interest in law and courthouses initially drew me to his place of work, and I had walked inside without a set of questions or even an idea of whom I would like to talk to. The young security guard who checked our purses upon entrance to the building was friendly, and he advised us to talk to the magistrate. “He’s been here a long time,” he said. “He can help with anything you want to know about Murphy.”
Cliff proved to be much more than a source of information about the crime in his town. Upon meeting him, I was struck by his unique, mountain-man/military veteran/police officer kind of look. He initially observed all of us kindly over his black rimmed glasses, but with a reserved look. His salt-and-pepper streaked hair and mustache was combed to perfection. I was almost embarrassed to be walking in with a messy French braid. He was also tan – very, very tan. His skin tone could be attributed to two things: the tendency to be out in the mountain sun, and the Cherokee heritage that coursed through his blood. We soon found out this was a common occurrence in the townspeople, as Native American heritage was strongly evident in both the Murphians and the land. “Do you live on Native American land?” Rachel asked Cliff. He looked at her with a small smile. “We all do.”
Many current residents have Cherokee blood within them. The Cherokee Museum was located right next door to the courthouse, but the day we met Cliff it was closed. It almost felt like this was meant to be – avoiding this touristy building instead allowed us to have a more authentic Murphian experience. We were able to chat with people like Cliff who could share both facts and opinions about the Cherokee influence in the area.
As interesting as the Cherokee information was, I found myself wanting to know more about Cliff, the man. He had a sad look about him and for some reason I just had to understand why. “How did you end up as a magistrate here?” I inquired. Cliff sat back in his seat and thought about his answer. This is how he responded to each question. He would first give the question some time to sink in, then ponder it in his head, and lastly articulate his response with both extreme intellect and careful word choice. This was a man who thought first, and acted later. Always. “I was born in Swain County on a Cherokee reservation,” he began. “I left the area for college, and while in school was drafted into the military.” This was during the time of the Vietnam War. Cliff spent about four years in Vietnam, and then was reassigned with other fellow marines to Hong Kong. After that, he returned to the United States, began working in the police department, and moved back to the town where his family had originated from – Murphy.
Now as a magistrate, he has seen several sides of the town. Most of his family is still here – almost all ten brothers and sisters. He raised three children with his wife in the area, and his mother is still close by. “My father just died very recently at the age of 94,” he said quietly. My heart broke. Here was a part of the reason I saw a grief-burdened man sitting across the desk from me. Yet, this man was both reserved and careful with his words. He had just shared with us a very personal bit of information, and I could not help but feel touched by his trust in four college students, four strangers essentially. He moved on from the subject of his father to his children. “My son graduated from Stanford and is now working on his doctorate. My youngest daughter just got in there.” The pride in his voice was just as powerful as the grief that had been evident only moments before. Looks like Cliff had picked a great town to raise his family in– homicides were not a top worry in the area. The most prominent crime is self-inflicted — prescription drug abuse. Later that night at a bar and restaurant, I would see firsthand what prescription drug abuse had done to a beautiful, 20-something woman I met. Despite the prominence of drug abuse in the town, Cliff seemed to be generally positive about Murphians and the future of their community.
As we were getting ready to thank him for his time, he turned the questioning on us.
“What year in college are you all?”
“We’re seniors.”
Cliff gave us his small, careful smile again. “You’re going to try to change the world, aren’t you? It’s not going to happen.”
Please do not misinterpret this statement. Cliff was not doubting our intelligence or drive. He was making an observation about the state of our world in the year 2014 – essentially saying it is a big, complicated mess. He advised us to not use our precious time on Earth attempting to force huge changes on those around us, because most of what we want to do will be out of our control. I will never forget his words, and they will continue to haunt me. And this is because, as Alexa noted, I am going to attempt to do just what he advised me not to.
