Date posted: 11-18-03

Editors: You are encouraged to use this story in your publication. Please credit the author and DeKalb News Service as shown. And, please send two tearsheets to: Jim Killam, Department of Communication, Watson Hall, Northern Illinois University, DeKalb, IL 60115.

1,350 words

Under House Arrest

By Cory Ohlendorf
DeKalb News Service

DEKALB -- Matthew Clark sinks deep into the plush green booth near the back of The House restaurant and coffee shop. Appropriately, a fresh mug of coffee sits in front of him. He's the establishment's general manager, though he doesn't really care for that title.

"I don't think of myself that way, but rather as someone here that can bring about the good vibes," Clark says.

As he blows the steam rising from his large, black coffee mug, he explains that role of "Good Vibes generator." It's to keep the people feeling good - not just those working for him, but also patrons of The House, 263 E. Lincoln Highway. Between questions, he hops from the booth and bounces from table to table ensuring that everyone is taken care of.

"He's a great boss," says Sebastian Hansen, who's worked for Clark a little over a year now.
Another employee, Aran Murphy, cuts Hansen off.

"I remember this one time," Murphy says enthusiastically. "Miles for Monty was performing here, and Matt just got up on stage and started freestyling - getting the crowd into it; and it was hilarious."

Clark has lived in DeKalb for eight years and has a true appreciation for the town.

"DeKalb has a wonderful spirit, it's got a diverse population and a great music scene," he said.

The music scene originally brought Clark here. He would come to Otto's for musical performances and eventually moved here and worked at Otto's, booking the talent that would perform. Four years later, he left Otto's and with two others, a vision and a little hope, got a loan and began the yearlong conception of The House.

Today, Clark spends more than 80 hours a week there, sometimes sleeping on the floor of his office in the basement. He is responsible for everything from the ordering to the inventory, from the booking of the band to the clearing of tables.

His countless hours at work - a phenomenon he jokingly refers to as "House arrest" - keep him inside the utopia he's built for himself, for the purpose of serving others. He serves them food and drinks, music and good vibes.

Clark believes in the value of every experience - that life just shouldn't be lived, but experienced viscerally. For this reason, he demands only fresh ingredients go in the recipes - many of which offer vegetarian and vegan entrees and specialties. Clark himself has been a vegetarian for more than five years and saw that it was difficult to find a variety of vegetarian or vegan entrees at most restaurants past the salad menu.

He personally books all the bands and artists that perform at The House. Emphasizing his hands-on approach, Clark quotes a House-favorite band, Troubled Hubble: "If you wanna go fishin,' I mean real fishin,' then jump in the water."

Clark constantly has music on his mind. When he speaks, he almost whispers words in a rhythmic pattern - pausing momentarily to find the perfect metaphor or fitting rhyme. His words are smooth. Slow. Almost as if they were made of honey.

He's had a passion for music since he was a kid. It was a way to escape the bland flavor that surrounded him growing up in Yorkville, Ill., a town of 4,000 people at the time. He and a few friends began working as disc jockeys at their high school dances to combat a stale jukebox's out of date music. Modeled after the then-popular Beastie Boys, the boys emerged Adidas-clad in 1986 as TMC, which stood for Top Mater Crew. Clark went by the name MC Fresh, a moniker he still goes by today.

"It was a lot of fun," Clark reminisced. "We just did a lot of off-the-wall stuff, which in turn got us a lot of gigs."

When Clark laughs, he smiles widely and his teeth shine, surrounded by the mustache and beard that extends a hand's width from his chin. His brown hair is normally tied back, almost hiding the fact that it's in dreadlocks. His blue eyes are wide, like those of a child. This gentle demeanor is hardly that of someone who grew up wanting to be a policeman.

Clark did, in fact, study law enforcement at Lewis University in Romeoville, Ill. Then, on one particularly dull day during his junior year in 1991, a former classmate approached Clark and asked if he wanted to see a few concerts. The tickets were for a band that was going to play at three different states.

"I thought the guy was kind of a nerd, and later I found out that I was the nerd." Clark said. "He told me who the band was and I said, 'The Grateful Who?'"

But Clark was open-minded and curious so he decided to take the tickets and check it out. He and the nerd, along with a few others, hopped in the car and followed the Grateful Dead from Chicago to Kansas and finally to Ohio. At the very first concert he discovered a love for the music, the people and the atmosphere.

"It was just a cultural shock," Clark said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I mean, I would look to the left and see people dancing and hugging and be like, 'whoa.' And then look to the right and see people with piercing that I'd never seen before and was blown away."

Clark was happily enjoying the concert when he, rather suddenly, had an epiphany.

"Midway through one of the concerts I realized that if I was going to be a cop, then I'd have to arrest over half of the people there, for doing … well, for doing what they were doing," Clark said, laughing. "And I wasn't cool with that."

Clark returned to school after the concerts and, like so many third-year college students before him, did some serious soul searching about what he really wanted out of life. He missed the feeling he got from the concerts. The way the music and the people helped bring some of his walls down. The way it opened his eyes. He decided not to become a cop. Life was too short, and he wanted to enjoy every minute of it.

"I definitely think that it was meant to be," assures Clark. "In the great, cosmic sense of good, enlightened vibes."

Clark's girlfriend of two years, Susan Campbell, agrees.

She met him when she came with a friend to The House to hear a local band, Patchouli. Coincidentally, Clark had special ordered an Indian dessert, gulab jaman, for that night's performance and was passing out the sweetened dough balls to the crowd when he met Campbell. Neither knows now whether it was the sweetness of the gulab jamans, the sweetness of Matthew, or a combination of the both. But things changed for both of them that night.

"That was when I knew that Mr. Matthew Clark was for me," she says smiling widely. "And he had completely taken my heart … during the 'jamon' show."

Campbell, like Clark, has a nickname: Shakti. The name comes from the Hindu belief of the power that creates the universe.

"Everything that is life, is shakti," Campbell explained.

When asked about her boyfriend, she says that she couldn't explain Matthew Clark without using a lot of words.

" He is extremely generous. Giving," she says softly. "He has a very kind heart and he's extremely compassionate."

Campbell, who also works at The House, likes working with Clark because he brings fun to any environment. Of course, working with one's boyfriend can always become somewhat complicated.

"It's difficult sometimes, because he is the manager - he is my boss - and he signs the checks," she says. "But for the most part it's really cool cause we can have fun with it."

As Clark finishes his cup of coffee, and stands from the booth, he greets one customer who is walking through the restaurant while reminding another customer about an upcoming musical performance. As he checks on a third patron at a table, the night continues for Clark. Just another night of spreading the good vibes.

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