From His Father’s Son to His Own Man

The father speaks in rhyme; the son rattles off statistics.

The father wears elegant clothes; the son bought six cheap, identical navy suits so he doesn’t waste “brain energy” getting dressed.

The father got a D in preaching class because he refused to write down his A-plus sermons; the son totes around every speech he has ever delivered, all filed and some laminated, in a black canvas bag.

The father wears the multicolored pin of the National Rainbow Coalition; the son’s lapel glints red and gold: the pin of a U.S. congressman.

For those wondering if Jesse L. Jackson Jr. (D-Ill.) is a Jesse Jackson miniature, the answer is, gigantically, no. Jackson, 30, the fresh face in the 104th Congress, is disciplined, travels with charts and describes industrial policy as “my magnificent obsession.”

While the elder Jackson has been criticized for lacking follow-through on ideas--he has called himself “a tree shaker, not a jelly maker”--Jesse Jr. prides himself on picking up the apples and finishing the job. He is “Jesse plus,” he says. The plus: “technology and systematic organizing.”

But the differences between the two tell more than just the story of a young man trying to step out of his father’s shadow. They also highlight the differences between two generations of black leadership: those who emerged from the church and the civil rights movement, and those from the universities and corporate America. As the scion of a new political dynasty, Jesse Jackson Jr. faces criticism that he is trading on his father’s name. His supporters are unapologetic: Whites do it all the time. Why can’t blacks?

“Goddarn it, I’m tired of our people having to start from scratch over and over,” says Rep. Maxine Waters (D-Calif.), a longtime family friend. “Jesse Jr. symbolizes a new generation who inherited the knowledge and political wealth their fathers and mothers created. Now we got our own connections.”

Jesse Jr. is by turns proud and defensive of those connections. He ran the best-financed campaign, he says, recruited 800 volunteers, registered 5,000 voters in 30 days, prevailed at candidate forums and stood in traffic waving signs each morning, breathing rush hour exhaust.

A political virgin, he won the seat vacated by the imprisoned Mel Reynolds to represent the 2nd Congressional District. Still, despite his efforts, the Associated Press story on his election led with: “Jesse Jackson Jr. rode his famous name to a Democratic primary victory Tuesday.”

On Jesse Jr.’s first day in office, a reporter asked if he’d have won the seat had his name been Jesse Jones. He shrugged and said: “Ask Patrick Kennedy”--the Rhode Island congressman and son of Massachusetts Sen. Ted Kennedy.

*

“There he goes--aaagh!” says Jesse Jackson Sr., waving three giddy fingers at his son. Jesse Jr. strides down a white marble hall and disappears into the House chamber. Jesse Sr. holds his stomach; he flaps his arms. Usually he is late, but this morning of Jesse Jr.’s swearing-in, he was dressed two hours early.

“I wish I had a bigger word,” the father says, smiling. “Like, I feel elephant joy or dinosaur excitement.”

For all of Jesse Sr.’s political influence, his two presidential campaigns, his diplomatic initiatives and his title as the District of Columbia’s shadow senator, he never once cast a legislator’s vote or made an executive decision.

“We’ve given our parents’ generation a chance and they haven’t done too well,” Jesse Jr. said the night he was elected. “It’s time to pass the baton to somebody else.” The theme for his campaign was: “Let a New Generation Arise.”

Now on the House floor on Dec. 14, Jesse Jr. addresses his colleagues for the first time. “I too have a dream,” he says.

*

What Jesse Jr. remembers best about his childhood: packing his father’s bags every Saturday, driving to the airport and waving goodbye.

What Jesse Sr. remembers best about Junior’s childhood: watching his 5-year-old son climb onto a milk crate at a PUSH workshop to deliver a little speech.

The stories may sound different, but in truth they are the same. For Junior, his father was always going away. For Senior, his eldest son was always striving to catch up.

“Jesse has always had a drive to succeed and a fear to fail,” his father says. These are his opening words in a conversation about his son. “I set a certain pace for the family, in terms of public persona.” Once, Jesse Jr. did a database search and found that from 1977 to 1993 “Jesse Jackson” appeared in 88,000 newspaper headlines.

“When he wasn’t home at night, you could turn on the TV and watch my father,” says Yusef, the third son. Homecomings were special occasions. “We all went upstairs and dressed properly; we’d have to put on our shoes.’

Jacqueline Jackson was the one who ferried the three boys and two girls to school in Chicago, who paid the taxes, repaired the roof, painted the house and patted the kids’ backs while they were sick.

Their father was a hero, a distant star. Jesse Jr. remembers the time when he was 6, seeing his mother on the phone, crying loudly. A crank caller told her the reverend had been shot. The boy didn’t understand why anyone would want to kill his dad. But the terror of the moment hammered down this feeling--his father was a very special man.

Jesse Jr. says his goals were simple: “I like to be like Dad.”

And in some ways he is: the brainy forehead, the light brown eyes, the way he mouths his thoughts and talks about himself in the third person. They both advocate social justice, and have quick minds and strong religious cores. Jesse Jr. has always worked for his father, most recently as national field director for the Rainbow Coalition. (Jesse Jr.’s wife, Sandi, is a lawyer.)

*

Father and son were born in Greenville, S.C. Both attended college at North Carolina A&T;, Chicago Theological School and the University of Illinois. But while Jesse Sr. dropped out of CTS and U of I, Jesse Jr. finished college in three years with a degree in business management, and he earned graduate degrees in divinity and law.

“My father always had the goodwill but never had the resources,” Jesse Jr. says. “No one has spoken to more schoolchildren than Jesse Jackson Sr. But no matter how many times he speaks, the children still need to be connected to the information superhighway.”

At the Rainbow Coalition, Jesse Jr. modernized the communications operation with JaxFax, a weekly electronic newsletter. His computer equipment is spread out over three tables in the basement of his house on the South Side of Chicago.

Later, Jesse Sr. laughs when asked about his computer skills. “The only computer I’ve mastered is this one,” he says, pressing the speaker button on his telephone.

If there is tension between father and son, it centers on the pull between heart and head.

“Our toughest arguments are about changing things,” says Jesse Sr. “Jesse has a measure of detachment. He is for institution-building and the effective use of technology. And we have to keep blending in technology with humanity.”

During the primary race, Jesse Sr. helped his son, providing Frank Watkins, his old campaign manager, and the political machinery of the Rainbow Coalition. The Jackson name attracted contributors from Aretha Franklin to Bill Cosby to Johnnie Cochran.

While Jesse Sr. has an insatiable urge to be recognized, Jesse Jr. grew up walking into rooms hearing strangers call out his name. It is why the walls of Jesse Sr.’s office are crowded with pictures of himself with David Dinkins, Michael Jordan, Goldie Hawn and George Bush--and why Jesse Jr. plans to decorate his office with pictures of abandoned buildings that he wants to refurbish in his district.

Gerald Austin, the elder Jackson’s campaign manager during his bid for the presidency in 1988, recalls when Jesse Jr. introduced his dad during the Democratic National Convention.

“Anyone who saw that speech thought, ‘Watch out for this kid,’ ” Austin says. “Here I was, working to elect Jackson to be president--I always thought the younger Jesse would be the first elected.”

*

For years, critics have questioned the relevance of Jesse Jackson as a leader. Now they question the relevance of his son, not because of who he is, but because of where he is.

Democrats are on the defensive, the Congressional Black Caucus is weak, and President Clinton is all but ignoring the left wing of the party. Just as Jesse Jr. was coming to Congress, Rep. Kweisi Mfume (D-Md.) was quitting to head the NAACP.

The new congressman agrees that the challenges are great: the decline of cities, the growth of jails, attacks on affirmative action and the Supreme Court reversal of redistricting. “This is the most devastating time for black America since Plessy versus Ferguson,” he says.

But Jesse Jr. has a plan. It is typed up and on his desk:

“GOAL: To retire Newt Gingrich as speaker.

“NEED: To retake 40 seats.”

Older Democrats are encouraged by determined new blood like Jesse Jackson Jr. “Gingrich has changed all the legislative rules,” says Rep. Charles Rangel (D-N.Y.). “Young Jesse comes here straight from the street. We need his advice.”

Rep. Bobby Rush (D-Ill.), a former Black Panther who in 1969 surrendered to Jesse Jr.’s father when the police were after him, says: “Junior brings different skills to the team than his father. He’s going to be able to negotiate with forces considered alien to civil rights causes--business.”

Economic development is indeed Jesse Jr.’s credo. Several times in a day, he climbs onto the couch in his reception area and points to a wall map of his blighted district. He’ll put an airport here. He’ll put a new mall there.

Thousands of jobs. Increased income.

*

Jesse Jr. has five minutes to get to the White House to meet with the president. He loses his way walking out of the Cannon House Office Building, but he runs into congressman after congressman who greets him like an old friend.

“Other than my way around tunnels, I know this place,” Jesse Jr. says, hailing a cab. He is not excited about seeing Clinton, he says. “I’ve shaken hands with four presidents; I’m not enamored by presidents. No White House dinner can distance me from the children in the poorest areas in my district.”

The cab pulls away from the Capitol. Years ago, Jesse Jr. and friend Rep. Cleo Fields (D-La.) drove by the lighted dome in a taxi and vowed that one day they would serve in Congress together.

Tonight, as the lights from the Mall float across his face, Jesse Jr. says, “What would make Jesse Jr. happy? Develop infrastructure.”

The taxi pulls up near the gate; he’s been here before. This visit, though, will be different. “Last time I went to the White House, it wasn’t my meeting--it was the president of the Rainbow Coalition’s meeting.”

Jesse Jr. steps out of the car and says, “Now it’s about my district.”

“Who’s he?” the taxi driver asks afterward.

Congressman Jesse Jackson Jr.

“If he has some new ideas--good,” the driver says. “His father’s ideas are dead, his time is gone.”

He looks through the windshield. He can make out a figure: a young man running through the shadows toward the White House.