The long reach of Jesse Jackson

From the news of the Rev. Jesse Jackson’s passing last month to the memorial and funeral, what continues to be mindboggling is the number of Black journalists whose lives Jackson impacted. Some covered his presidential campaigns. Others were involved in covering his myriad initiatives across decades.

The picture above with me, my then-wife Sharon, our then-3-year-old daughter and Jackson reminded me of my interaction with the Reverend when he tuned his focus on the area of sport and play.

The photo was taken in the summer of 1993 at the National Association of Black Journalists convention in Houston. I was tasked with putting together a panel to discuss the looming issue of Black labor and white wealth in sports, specifically the glaring absence of Black executives and head coaches. The panel would include Rev. Jackson, Dr. Harry Edwards, law professor Linda Greene and the late John Thompson.

Jackson had agreed to be on the panel and begin the discussion by giving an overview of the dilemma facing African Americans in the sports industry. He was a relative newcomer to the racial politics of sport and play, but he had jumped in with typical aplomb — and cameras followed.

The previous January, I rode with him as he prepared to meet with MLB owners who had gathered for a meeting in Dallas. Jackson had announced the creation of the Rainbow Commission for Fairness in Sports. Similar to what he had done in Chicago with large corporations, the Reverend threatened MLB owners with direct action if they did not submit an affirmative action hiring plan by opening day of the 1993 season. He made good on the threat the following April when he demonstrated at the Baltimore Orioles’ opening day.

Thirty-three years later, we’re still dealing with the same issues. But the 1993 panel at the NABJ convention was significant at a time when sports journalism and Black sports journalists in general were seen as being somewhat tangential to the larger issues facing African Americans inside and outside of the newsroom.

Jackson found the Black labor/white wealth dynamic intriguing. Sports was a metaphorical plantation, with so many Black bodies running and jumping but hitting a wall when it came to becoming head coaches and assuming front office positions. Jackson saw this dynamic as fresh, fertile territory to attack, and his presence on the 1993 NABJ panel brought widespread visibility to the issue — and to the importance of Black sports journalists.

The morning of the panel, Dr. Edwards called my room and said he was considering leaving. He explained that he wasn’t comfortable with Rev. Jackson giving the overall introduction while he sat and listened. I totally understood. Edwards had virtually created the Sociology of Sport discipline and been working in that space since the late 1960s. In any other situation, he would have been the appropriate speaker to give the opening overview.

But Jesse was Jesse. He had legendary charisma and an uncanny way of bringing widespread attention to an issue. And he brought the cameras. He would pull this sports conversation into the mainstream.

Dr. Edwards was not budging from his position, and since I wanted him to be part of the panel, I arranged to meet Jackson that morning. He was coming in from the Midwest — Iowa, I think — where he had been involved in comforting those who had been victimized by the devastating floods that had wreaked havoc, cost lives and billions of dollars’ worth of damage.

When Jesse arrived in the hotel lobby, it was as if the prophet had arrived. He was surrounded by television cameras, lights and a throng of reporters. I squeezed in as he walked and quickly told him of the Dr. Edwards situation. Without missing a step and without hesitation—and sensing my panic — Jesse agreed that he would step back and would not give the overview as had been planned but would be part of the discussion.

Just as the panel was preparing to take the stage, Dr. Edwards asked me where Jesse was sitting. (I had already arranged the seating on the dais). When I pointed out Jackson’s seat, Dr. Edwards said he wanted to sit next to the reverend.

Everyone, even luminaries in their own right, understood Jackson’s charisma and penchant for attracting attention. He had an aura and everyone wanted to be part of it.

The next time I remember directly connecting with Rev. Jackson was in August 2009 when he reached out to talk to me about the treatment of quarterback Michael Vick, one of the NFL’s most electric stars at the time.

Two years earlier, Vick had pleaded guilty to felony charges related to his participation in an unlawful dogfighting ring. He was indefinitely suspended from the NFL and was sentenced to 23 months in federal prison.

At the time Jackson and I spoke, Vick had been reinstated, but no team had signed him. That’s what upset Jackson, who had played quarterback at North Carolina A&T University.

“I want to make it an issue,” Jackson told me during that phone conversation. “I want teams to explain why they have a quarterback who has less skills but is playing or at least is on the taxi squad, and a guy with more skills can’t get into training camp.”

Under the terms of his reinstatement, Vick could take part in preseason practices and workouts. If a team signed him, he could attend meetings and would be able to play in the final two preseason games.

“Democracy does not guarantee success,” Jackson said. “Democracy guarantees an opportunity. It’s not fair to de facto try to lock him out of his right to compete. If he can’t make the team, don’t let him play. If he can, let him work.”

My column with Jackson’s remarks appeared Aug. 7. A week later, Vick was signed by the Philadelphia Eagles, with whom he enjoyed five productive seasons and was voted NFL Comeback Player of the Year in 2010.

During a fascinating online conversation last month with Damian Thomas, sports curator at the Smithsonian National Museum of African American History and Culture, Dr. Edwards, 83, who is battling his own health issues, was asked to remember Rev. Jackson.

“We have had some moments of outright back-slapping laughter,” he said. “And we’ve had some moments of contention.”

“I would be more than satisfied as my train comes to the end of the line, if somebody just stood up and said, ‘You know, one thing about the brother is he made a contribution.’ And that’s what I say about Jesse Jackson. Without question, Jesse Jackson made a contribution.”

The photo from 1993 reminds me of the relentless movement of time. Our daughter is married with two children. I’m a grandparent. Rev. Jackson, gone at age 84, is being celebrated for the many lives he touched.

His life was the busiest of intersections.

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