Tucson leader Clarence Boykins dead at 82

Clarence Boykins, an Air Force veteran and longtime advocate for Tucson’s Black community, died Saturday, May 3. He was 82.

A Tucson resident for more than half a century, Boykins worked for the city of Tucson for nearly three decades, including a long stint as a manager at the Tucson Community Center. He also led the city’s MLK Day celebration committee and worked with Tucson Urban League, Southern Arizona Black Chamber of Commerce, Tucson Jazz Society and other organizations.

His daughter Dayna Guyton said that her father “could walk into any room and make a friend out of an enemy with a smile.”

“He was full of life. Constantly a champion for those who couldn’t champion for themselves, constantly a friend to anyone in need,” said Guyton. “He, without question, was an incredible dad.”

She remembered Boykins as a storyteller. He was “never without incredible pearls of wisdom for us to tuck away. Every conversation was filled with stories that were real and authentic and lively, and if you paid attention, chock full of unforgettable lessons.”

Boykins grew up in Miami, Fla,. where he graduated high school.

Guyton said that while tourists may have visited for the city’s beautiful beaches and glamorous nightlife, “Miami was actually quite dangerous.”

“My father grew up on a street that was referred to as a ‘bucket of blood,’” she said, relaying an old family tale.

Enlistment in the Air Force offered a way out. Boykins first traveled to England, but when he returned stateside, “the next thing I know, they got this, they call it a ‘police action,’ but winded up being a war going on in Vietnam,” he said in an oral history recorded for the African-American Museum of Southern Arizona.

The lure of extra pay enticed Boykins to sign up to serve in the war.

“If I went to Vietnam, I’d make $65 more money in combat pay with free stamps to mail your letters,” Boykins said in his oral history. “When I think about it now, how stupid. Come on man, for $65 extra, you got to do that?”

In 1967, the service brought him to Davis-Monthan Air Force Base. Boykins had never heard of Tucson, but a colleague told him it was near Tombstone, where the Earp brothers had their famous shoot-out at the OK Corral.

“Now that I knew, because I love cowboys,” Boykins said.

But when he arrived, he didn’t find many Black people in Tucson and found himself asking: “Where’s the community? I’m used to brothers and sisters everywhere, day and night and everything in between. And you don’t have that.”

He did find his community and Tucson became his home after his 12-year Air Force career came to an end. By then, he was working with pastors and activists on various social causes, including advocating for changes in the juvenile justice system, where a disproportionate number of incarcerated youth were Black.

His friend Anita Smith recalled that she asked Boykins in the 1980s for help finding a job and “before I knew it, I was working with (the Tucson) mayor and Council for years.”

She recalled that when the Tucson Urban League was facing financial troubles, Boykin provided support.

“I remember a few times that Mr. Boykins went in his pocket to pay employees,” she said. “He wrote a check to ensure payroll checks wouldn’t bounce.”

She said that Boykins “did not know how to say no to anyone. Not at all. You needed a favor, Clarence was right there to say, how can he fix it? How can he help?”

University of Arizona basketball legend Bob Elliott said he met Boykins when he returned to Tucson after he retired from his professional basketball career in the 1980s.

“He had a very high-level job with the city of Tucson, so he was able to make sure that if different Black groups wanted or needed something with the city of Tucson, someplace to hold an event, Clarence always helped out,” Elliott said.

Elliott remembered Boykins’ work on a 1992 statewide ballot initiative to establish an Arizona holiday recognizing Martin Luther King Jr.

“I’ve always felt his claim to fame was the work he did with Larry Hecker and Dan Eckstrom with the MLK holiday,” said Elliott.

Boykins brought civil-rights icon Rosa Parks to Tucson and ended up with a pair of her old shoes when they went shopping for a new pair.

“She tells Clarence, ‘I’ve worn these a few too many times. I need to go pick up the same pair of shoes someplace. at some shoe store.” She finds the exact same pair of shoes,” Elliott said. “Hands the old shoes to Clarence. ‘Here, you take these. I’m wearing these now.'”

Eckstrom, a former South Tucson mayor and Pima County supervisor, said that Boykins was “the kind of guy who comes along once in a lifetime.”

“He was a tremendous public speaker,” Eckstrom said. “He could sell anything to anybody.”

Eckstrom remembered that Boykins worked in the menswear department at Levy’s Department Store.

“That’s why he was always a sharp dresser,” Eckstrom said. That guy, man, he was always perfect in his dress, no matter where he was.”

Adelita Grijalva, the former Pima County supervisor who is now running for her congressional seat left vacant by the death of her father Raul Grijalva, remembered that Boykins approached her when she was running her first campaign for a seat on the Tucson Unified School District Governing Board.

She said that Boykins told her: “I know your dad — he’s a good man and I’m counting on you to represent.”

She remembered Boykins as an “always stylish, purposeful, smart and quick-to-smile man.”

Tucson Mayor Regina Romero said that Boykins was “an amazing leader in our community.”

“As executive director of the Southern Arizona Black Chamber of Commerce, Mr. Boykins knew the power of supporting Black-owned businesses through innovative events like First Saturday Market,” Romero said. “He always had a smile to share, he believed deeply in the power of unity and solidarity across issues that affected working families and marginalized communities. I will miss him and his wisdom deeply.”

Tucson City Councilman Paul Cunningham said Boykins was a uniter.

“He was bigger than life, and the best thing about him was that he brought people together,” Cunningham said.

When Cunningham was first seeking appointment to a vacant seat on the City Council, he called Boykins because he’d heard Boykins might be interested in the seat.

“I called him to tell him that I was supportive and would not put my name in if he was putting his name in,” Cunningham said. “And he didn’t even know me that well, but we’d had some mutual friends. And he said, ‘No, young fella, it’s your time to shine.’ I’ll never forget him for doing that.”