The Prince of Gilbert

— Jack Eldon Baker departed his troubled world in April 2002.

His hometown, the hamlet of Gilbert, located about 20 miles south of Harrison, bade him farewell at the little Christian Church. Nearly 300 young and old who gathered came from as far away as Idaho. They came to remember the 61-year-old man with Down Syndrome who educated doctors in 1939 said wouldn’t live through grade school but wound up doing his own form of educating.

Most who knew Baker called him Uncle Bocky because that’s what he called himself during his adult years. No one knows why, but that really wasn’t important. It was evident from the eloquent emotions expressed over his casket that this simple man’s simple life along the Buffalo River had brimmed with higher connections, shaped largely by devoted parents and the townsfolk who showered him daily with the same unconditional acceptance that he freely returned.

The magnitude of the loss was palpable, as so many people bared the mid-summer heat to offer a farewell. One speaker remembered Jack as the “Prince of Gilbert.” Others said he had been an angel. Yet another compared his open and loving approach to life with that of Christ.

While a higher I.Q. might help most navigate the storms of life, the genius displayed by Baker resonated from the cells of his tender heart. He intuited the place where genuine strength resides, as evidenced by his habitual weekly Sunday school reminders that “God lives in your heart.”

People recalled his daily walks in the middle of the street to the Gilbert General Store and Post Office. His mother, Lucille Baker, was the postmaster. She and her late husband, Noel, owned and operated the store for many years. Baker was younger than his two brothers, Noel Jr. and Dr. Bill Baker, the former president of North Arkansas Community College.

One by one, those at the service related memories of Baker such as “hugs for everyone that lasted five minutes.” It delighted him for people to hand him $1 bills, but he was especially fond of the ones with a 5 inscribed on their fronts. He called them the “big boys.”

Baker often expressed himself by creating patchwork artwork with colorful marking pens and even sold some of it for several “big boys.” He loved watching the Atlanta Braves on TV and once met Hank Aaron. But his life was at home, the store, the post office and the adjacent river.

The Prince never met a stranger, and he proudly claimed he’d gone to school with virtually everyone he met, regardless of their age. He especially loved hot summers when he could float on his back in the clear waters of the Buffalo. Others recalled his Elvis impersonations and the time he donned a Santa suit.

I was struck by the realization that in 1939, had Baker lived anywhere other than this closely knit community, he may well have been institutionalized to spend a lonely, abbreviated life. But instead, in an act that everyone in Gilbert agrees was divine providence, he was given a supportive family and a community to love. The community loved him in return.

Baker attended the sixth grade in nearby St. Joe and had a brief stay at the old state Children’s Colony before returning to his family. He later would tell his mother that whenever he needed to weep, he’d “slip out behind the building alone.” Throughout Baker’s lifetime, especially after she lost her husband and her middle son, his mother told friends that she prayed to live just one breath longer than her youngest. She never wanted him to be without a parent or a burden on anyone outside the family.

Members of his expansive family are the first to say that Baker’s core was shaped around unconditional love. “He never harmed or said a cross word to anyone,” recalled his mother.

Unlike many with far more resources who spend their lifetimes searching for purpose, I believe that the Prince of Gilbert was born with such secrets encoded in his heart, and he shared them with everyone he met: Love one another, don’t hurt others, enjoy life, be open and honest. This man, who was known to pray an hour each day, never sought to gain at the expense of another.

The Prince of Gilbert drew his final breath at the North Arkansas Regional Medical Center in Harrison after suffering a heart attack at home. What a magnificent breath it was. Ray Wheeler, who was seated beside him at the time, later said: “He just let the breath out slowly and this incredibly peaceful smile filled his face. It was an amazing thing to witness.” -

Mike Masterson is opinion editor of the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette’s Northwest edition. The original version of today’s column ran on April 7, 2002.

Editorial, Pages 19 on 12/26/2009

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