Clement G. Wright ’52

Clem Wright ’52 tells the story of a young man visiting with an older, successful businessman. Behind the older man’s desk is a sign that reads, “Don’t ever forget rule #4.” The younger man works up the courage to ask what rule #4 is, and the elder replies, “Don’t take yourself too seriously.”

“What are rules 1-3?” The response: “They don’t matter, as long as you keep rule #4.”

Clem Wright always keeps Rule #4. When told he was to receive the inaugural 1851 Distinguished Alumni Award, which recognizes those alumni of the Beta Chapter who have made superior contributions of time, interest and love to the DKE House, he was stunned. “Receiving this award floored me,” he says.

(Edward) “T. Baur ’68 recommended me as the initial recipient; otherwise no one would have taken it seriously,” Clem goes on to say modestly. However the Alumni Board of Directors of Beta DKE thought Clem was very deserving.

“Clem is always on top of things,” said Christopher Harris, alumni board president. “It is odd for a week to go by without receiving a phone call from Clem about one thing or another – whether it’s to discuss the way the house looked on his last visit, to discuss why our Lion’s Roar newsletters aren’t arriving on a regular schedule, or to discuss one of the current active members. Clem is constantly thinking about the DKE House and is a tremendous asset for us.”

Chris goes on to explain that, “Clem was the perfect first recipient (of the 1851 Award.) His love of the DKE House runs deeper than almost anything else, and we all respect and admire him for that. We don’t know what we would do without Clem around to remind us of the way things used to be. Additionally, he provides the backbone of our traditions and makes sure that we continue to keep these in mind as we go into the future. He truly is as a DKE should be – a gentleman, a scholar, and a jolly good fellow.”

As the keeper of Deke traditions and history, Clem is happy to recount his days as an active. He was a senior in high school when he stopped by the house to visit his older brother, Bernard ’50, a World War II veteran. “The place was JUMPIN’,” he says. “The Bull City Nighthawks combo was rocking to a house full of good looking girls. It was a very uptown gathering. When the saxophonist broke into a solo, one of the Dekes poured some of his drink into the horn, and the crowd went wild.

“A few months later, in the fall of 1948, I was rushing,” Clem continued. “One of the Dekes pointed out another brother who was going into the ministry. I started to wonder if the Deke house was the place for me. Then he pointed out another guy and explained he was the biggest drunk on campus. That’s when I knew this was the place for me. I’d fit in.”

In the 1940s, a young man pledging a fraternity had to box or wrestle to earn their “entry point.” While he was a pledge, Clem entered the DKE dining room one day and noticed all the older brothers were snickering. When he asked why, they suggested he find out who he was scheduled to fight that day. It was the defending middleweight champion—a seasoned veteran of World War II. “I went back to my dorm to await my execution,” Clem recalls. “At the start of the match, he was peppering me with jabs. I reeled backwards, but managed to land a roundhouse right. I knocked him out! I tried to go after him, but the ref stopped me saying, ‘You can’t hit him when he’s down.’ And I yelled, “Hell, he might get up!’”

That’s the story of how Clement Gillespie Wright became known throughout the Deke House as “Rocky” for Rocky Graciano.

Clem says that it took a little while before he felt accepted by his older brothers, many of whom were World War II veterans. (“These were tough guys,” Clem says. “They were not politically correct.”) That acceptance came at the end of the semester. “I washed dishes at the Pi Beta Phi sorority house,” Clem recounts. “At Christmas, about 60 Pi Phis gathered at the Deke house, calling me out to be serenaded. I said I wasn’t going, but the older Dekes, some of whom were engaged to Pi Phis said ‘Like hell you’re not!’” That honor by the Pi Phis helped Clem gain acceptance in the DKE house.

The Dekes’ biggest athletic rivals on campus were the Zetes. They were the two time campus champions in tag football, and Clem’s sophomore year, the Zetes clobbered the Dekes. Their big mistake, though, was trash talking Clem Wright. He waited 12 months to get his revenge on the field.

“We were lined up, and I was to kick the ball when a Zete came crashing through the line, landing just a couple feet away from the ball. I hesitated because I knew I couldn’t kick it without it being blocked, but my brother yelled ‘kick that son of a bitch.’ World War II mentality kicked in, and I kicked it—right into the Zete’s ribcage. We went on to win 7-0. We chewed up the Zetes. We were bigger, faster and stronger. But more importantly, we were meaner.”

Clem, who served the Beta Chapter as president, always found a way to have fun, even while helping a worthy cause. One year, the Inter-fraternity Council (IFC) was hosting a fundraiser, and some of the Dekes came up with a new game of chance. Crafted out a six-foot circle of plywood set on a spindle and painted different colors, the first “Rat Roulette,” hosted by the Dekes, was the most popular game at the event.

A mouse was placed in the center of the wheel under a bucket. When the bucket was lifted, it would scurry to a hole at the edge of the circle. Bets were placed on which color hole the mouse would choose. “Bruce Fountain rang a cowbell to hasten the mouse to a hole,” Clem recalled. “Afterward, that mouse would go back to UNC medical school and apply for a medical discharge for shellshock.”

Clem believes the Deke House is full of “the best people in the state of North Carolina,” and he takes a personal interest in the Actives. “He always wants to know where each of them is from, who their parents are, and what high school they went to,” Chris Harris notes. Clem thinks it’s important to make that personal contact, and to treat everyone with respect. “They (the actives) are not kids, they’re men,” he says. “Treat them like men and you’ll get men.”

Clem’s “official” job at the Beta Chapter is to speak with each incoming pledge class to tell them some of the history of the DKE House at UNC-Chapel Hill. “This role used to be filled by the legendary Eddie Caldwell, who looked after the Deke house for half a century,” Chris explains. “But Clem has been asked to take on this role since Eddie’s death some years back.” He makes sure the men know what behavior is expected of a Deke.

For his part, Clem enjoys the traditions and the ties. “There are no guarantees in life,” he says. “That’s why the Dekes mean so much to me.”