A job for Superman
Overachiever. Growing up the third son of a bricklayer in Houston's poor, historically black Third Ward, Ervin was pushed by two elementary school teachers to apply to the city's elite Kinkaid School, George W. Bush's alma mater; he became the first African-American male ever to attend the school. When Ervin started as a seventh grader there in 1971, most classmates were accepting. But one boy called Ervin a n - - - - - every day until they graduated more than five years later. "Clark never once broke," recalls his friend Allison Marich. An accomplished classical pianist and a political junkie, Ervin became one of the nation's top high school debaters. "He could talk a dog off a meat truck," laughs one of his teammates, Douglas Bacon. Ervin, a conservative, still does some debating--his wife, Carolyn Harris, an educational consultant, is a liberal Democrat. Ervin attended Harvard University for college and law school, separated by stint as a Rhodes scholar at Oxford University. But he's not just a wonk. "Edgy" classical music concerts, featuring Shostakovich and Bartok, provide some diversion, as do occasional jaunts to salsa clubs.
Even though Ervin and the current President Bush both attended Kinkaid, their relationship didn't begin until 1988, when a Bush friend told him about "a wonderful young man" named Ervin. So when Ervin sent his resume to Washington, seeking a job somewhere in the administration of President George Herbert Walker Bush, the new president's son attached a laudatory note. Ervin's resume landed on the desk of Gregg Petersmeyer, head of the president's Office of National Service, which fostered volunteer efforts around the country. A quick interview later, Ervin was hired as Petersmeyer's second-in-command. After two years there, he came back to Texas, worked for law firms, and made two unsuccessful runs at elected office--once for a state house seat and once for a seat in the House of Representatives. Then Ervin joined the younger Bush's gubernatorial administration, first as assistant secretary of state and later as Cornyn's general counsel. Ervin returned to Washington in 2001 as the State Department's inspector general.
And he was happy there. But when Colin Powell personally asked him to take on the role of inspector general at the DHS, Ervin knew he couldn't say no. It's far from an easy job--with an $82 million budget, Ervin oversees the sprawling DHS and its 22 formerly independent federal departments. Their half-dozen offices of inspectors general were rolled into his. Ervin has 413 employees but says he could use four times as many.
Even so, not everyone's a fan. The Senate didn't confirm Ervin, as required of presidential nominees, because of an undisclosed issue with his record at the State Department. Neither Ervin nor any senators will comment on the matter. Instead, Bush formally installed him with a recess appointment in December 2003, which means his term runs out at the end of this congressional session. And that's just fine with some. "He is protective of the administration and doing the bare minimum," gripes one congressional staffer who claims that Ervin stonewalled on requests for data on DHS problems, blew off immigration recommendations from the Justice Department, and isn't paying enough attention to budget problems in certain parts of the agency. Others refer to Ervin as a headline hound. Still, one DHS official says that while Ervin doesn't "miss many opportunities for glory, there is no evidence of whitewashing. He's pretty bare-knuckled." In a polite way, of course.
Born: April 1, 1959
Family: Wife, Carolyn Harris, educational consultant. No children.
Education: B.A., Harvard College, 1980; master's, Oxford University, 1982; J.D., Harvard, 1985.
Public service: 1989-91, White House Office of National Service; 2001-03, inspector general, State Department; 2003-present, inspector general, Department of Homeland Security.
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