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In the early morning of Tuesday, February 17th, Reverend Jesse Louis Jackson, Sr., completed his assignment on earth, and surrounded by loving family members, took his last breath. He had a lifetime to figure out his assignment, and step-by-step, he did.
Born in humble circumstances in Greenville, South Carolina, no one could have predicted that he would become this larger-than-life presence, not only on a local or national level, but internationally. I would dare say that his name was known on all seven continents. Looking back over Reverend Jackson’s life, it is quite clear that words like “Giant” or “Icon” sometimes seemed too small. He was quite simply a towering figure whether in the civil rights movement, in the war against poverty, in the fight for education, in the movement for social and economic justice, and on the world stage, in the quest for peace.
His son, U.S. Representative Jonathan Jackson, recalled at a press conference how his father went through three name changes. (Born to Helen Burns and Noah Robinson, he has been known as Jesse Burns, Jesse Robinson and Jesse Jackson, taking his stepfather Charles Henry Jackson’s last name in 1957.) During his years of advocating for causes of freedom, justice and peace, he figured out that no matter your name, no matter your race or your circumstances of birth, you are somebody. And, indeed, his rousing, ringing slogan “I AM SOMEBODY,” became a rallying cry that he had us shout back in response to him. “We all are,” he said, “God’s Child.”
When I was a high school student in Chicago in the 1960s, I was inspired to attend sessions at what was then called Operation Breadbasket on the South Side of Chicago. It may have resembled a church service, but its focus was community uplift and activism. This was truly a grassroots organization, an offshoot of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference (“SCLC”). They advocated for jobs, housing, education and equal opportunity. I and other students were welcomed warmly by the unstoppable Reverend Willie Barrow, a short dynamo of a woman who had a knack for organizing and inspiring audiences. She was the mother of the organization. She encouraged us to come back even as we went away to college, and law school and we always did. We all loved her.
Over the years, the organization evolved from Operation Breadbasket (after breaking away from SCLC) to People United to Save (and later Serve) Humanity—also known as Operation Push—and finally, to the Rainbow PUSH Coalition. At these gatherings, we were enthralled by a young, tall handsome speaker named Jesse Jackson. He was already becoming known on the national stage. I marched with Dr King when he came to Chicago to promote Open Housing in 1966. Jesse Jackson was there. We knew that he was a protege of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and indeed, was on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis,Tennessee when Dr. King was assassinated on April 4th, 1968.
His oratory was electric, fiery and passionate. And whether he wore a big Afro and daishiki, or a business suit, he commanded attention. It is my theory that he was born to his leadership position with some special annointing that was not of this earth. No matter the gathering, in Washington D.C. at the Congressional Black Caucus meetings, or at the campaign offices of soon-to-be Mayor of Chicago, Harold Washington, or at a Prayer Breakfast for Black History Month, I noticed that other speakers seemed to retreat a bit when he entered the room. No one wanted to follow his speeches. I often wondered how he came up with his slogans so quickly, “you may be born in the slums, but the slums are not born in you,” “never look down on a man unless you are helping him up,” and so many more. But the enduring slogans “I AM SOMEBODY,” and “KEEP HOPE ALIVE,” promised us a better future, and encouraged us to never give up.
You can see his leadership in the amazing documentary “Nation Time” by William Greaves, which was shot in 1972 at the National Black Political Convention. Mayor Richard Hatcher invited a cross section of leaders to Gary, Indiana to discuss the future of politics for Black Americans while the Democratic National Convention was meeting in Chicago. At various times we see everyone from Coretta Scott King and Betty Shabazz, to Amiri Baraka, Dick Gregory, Harry Belafonte and Isaac Hayes. It makes one wonder if we could gather a coalition like that today.
Even earlier, his leadership style was on display in 1960 when he organized the Greenville Eight, a group of Black students to go to the Public Library in Greenville, South Carolina to check out books. It seems impossible to believe now, but back then you could not check out a book in the Public Library if you were Black. At first, the library chose to shut down altogether rather than to serve the students. But, at some point, the library became open to all.
He led an astonishing life, surviving both the negatives and the positives of one who puts himself on the line. As he is honored in tributes around the globe, I also recalled those times when some leaders thought he flew too close to the sun, and waged campaigns to take him down a peg. We later learned that rumors may have been planted to cause us to doubt him, or to feel ambivalent about him. (Who planted the rumors, I don’t know, some said the FBI.) There were the constant questions “Why did he have to show up at every major incident? Was he just looking for publicity?” The press tried to minimize him, marginalize him and perhaps, sweep him to the side. But whatever life force he came into this world with enabled him to overcome all of that. Underestimate his intelligence, strategic brilliance and persistence at your own peril. He was not perfect, he made mistakes. But as Reverend Jackson himself said, he was not the perfect servant, he was a Public Servant. And he did not back down.
In hindsight, we needed Reverend Jackson to shine a light on inequality. He showed up because he cared and because he thought he could make a difference. We appreciated the totality of what he did, and he became a hero to us. Who among us can say we helped to get hostages released from Syria? I bet Navy Lt. Robert Goodman was happy to have Reverend Jackson advocating for him. Who among us can say we helped secure the release of 22 Americans held in Cuba under Fidel Castro or traveled with then-Congressman Rod Blagojevich to meet with Yugoslavian President Slobodan Milosevic to secure the release of others?
Who would have listened if Reverend Jackson wasn’t there, knocking on corporate doors and demanding they open their boards and executive suits to women and African Americans and people of all races? Likewise, he helped to integrate newsrooms and broadcast booths for those who were qualified, but who had not been afforded those opportunities previously. When he advocated for the ownership of sports teams, and business franchises some accused him of being an opportunist. But his answer was resounding—economic prosperity was to be shared in the hands of the many rather than the few. What he was voicing were views that he shared with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, specifically that there are no civil rights without economic rights!
In Hollywood, he advocated for opening unions to people of color and giving more roles on screens to African-American actors. He also advocated for more executive roles in studios so that Black people would be in positions to green-light projects. He did all of this many years before the #OscarsSoWhite became popular. Some thought his advocacy hurt the cause. But later many came around to appreciating his willingness to vocalize the inequalities. And, indeed, I was a witness to the celebrations of his birthdays by the Hollywood community at the Beverly Hilton Hotel some Octobers. Eventually everyone came around to the realization that he just wanted to help.
It is difficult to believe that one man did all of that and so much more. Over the 84 years of Reverend Jackson’s life it is as if he were “Zelig,” the mythical character in the mockumentary Woody Allen movie the human chameleon who happened to be in all the significant places in history at just the right time. But Jesse Jackson was no myth. He was the real deal. When you were in his presence you just knew that his celebrity was no accident. He spoke with the moral authority of one who had the interest of others at heart. And by being so heartfelt his speeches inspired you, moved you and compelled you to do something to make the world a better place. HE WAS SOMEBODY!
In Chicago, we claimed him as our own, and some of the TV stations said that he would often pop in unannounced to talk about an initiative or to get airtime. And you know what? They gave it to him. He not only commanded it, but he earned it, and you always knew that no matter what he did, it was not going to be boring. And that what ever cause he was espousing was likely to be one that deserved the attention. He was an astute student of the times and of what was needed to help move society forward.
We were both surprised and touched by the copious tears Reverend Jackson shed in Grant Park in Chicago, the night we knew Barack Obama was becoming our nation’s first Black President. Rev. Jackson must have had doubts whether he would ever see that in his lifetime. He had spent years building coalitions to register people to vote, with some suggesting this week that he had more impact on registration than anyone in history. He and we knew that he had fought, and marched and been jailed and rebuked along the way to help make that path for President Obama.
When “Captain Fantastic” premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2016, I was struck by how Viggo Mortensen’s character in the movie wore a t-shirt that read, “Jesse Jackson ’88.” I got a chance to talk with Mortensen about it afterward, and he told me that it was, in fact, his own shirt that he had from when he campaigned for Jackson—as I did—during his 1988 presidential bid. In fact I knocked on doors and campaigned for Reverend Jackson in both his 1984 and 1988 campaigns for President. So many young people believed in him and believed he could make a difference. What none of us knew at the time is that his assignment was not to make a difference as a polittician. Something much broader was his destiny.
Even after Reverend Jackson announced that he had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s he kept showing up to fight for justice when it mattered. (It was a misdiagnosis. He had progressive supranuclear palsy). After all of his years of service it was so rewarding to see the warm enthusiastic response that he received at the last Democratic National Convention at the United Center in Chicago in 2024. When he was wheeled on stage, big smile, shaking hands with all who crossed his path, I and everyone around me were in tears. It felt like a moment for a superhero.
We admired him for putting his own freedom and health on the line when it mattered. But what did his family think? It was obvious that Reverend Jackson loved his family and they loved him. They were aware of his place in the world and his drive to improve things. However, I did wonder whether his wife Jackie and his children Santita, Jesse Jr, Jonathan, Yusef, Jacqueline and Ashley would have preferred that he didn’t give so much of himself all the time. At the press conference, Santita said when she called him “Reverend” he corrected her and said to call him “Daddy.” His family life was precious to him and to them. It was reassuring to hear her say it. His family was his refuge.
On a personal level, when Roger was in the hospital for eight months, Reverend Jackson and Father Michael Pfleger of Chicago’s St. Sabina Church would come and pray with him. No one knew this, it was just something that they did, and we appreciated it. Reverend Jackson’s friendship with Roger had preceded Roger’s hospitalization, and they had a respect for each other. At Roger’s funeral, Reverend Jackson couldn’t attend, but his son Jonathan read a speech that he had written to honor him. He hailed Roger as a “soldier with a pen” who championed the work of Black filmmakers. “Roger respected what we had to say about ourselves,” he said. “It was not his story, but he understood the value of an important film was authenticity and not the fact that it depicted your interests.”
The last time I saw Reverend Jackson was March 25, 2025, when I was invited to attend a celebration of him when he received the George W. Bush Award hosted by the Points of Light Foundation. His niece Brenda Robinson and so many others spoke beautifully about Reverend Jackson’s work, and about his ability to reach across the aisle to work with former President Bush. By this time, he had lost his ability to speak, but his eyes, his actions and his firm handshake conveyed all you needed to know. Sitting there with Mrs. Jackson and his family, he was the picture of contentment and of a life well-lived.
I convey my deepest, deepest sympathy to Mrs. Jackson, and to all of his family. May He Rest In Heavenly Bliss.
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SEVERAL CELEBRATIONS OF LIFE ARE SCHEDULED FOR HIM STARTING NEXT WEEK: For more information about the services, go to JesseJacksonLegacy.com
His family said that all are welcome, no matter your beliefs, just leave politics at the door.
Thursday, February 26, 2026
Lying in State at Rainbow PUSH Coalition
Location: 930 E 50th St, Chicago, IL 60615
Time: 10:00 AM – 6:00 PM
Friday, February 27, 2026
The People’s Celebration at House of Hope
Location: 752 E 114th St, Chicago, IL 60628
Time: 10:00 AM – 2:00 PM
Doors Open at 9:00 AM
Sunday, March 1 through Wednesday, March 4, 2026
Formal services in South Carolina and Washington, D.C.
Friday, March 6, 2026
The People’s Celebration at House of Hope
Location: 752 E. 114th Street, Chicago, IL 60628
Doors Open at 9:00 AM
Saturday, March 7, 2026
Private Homegoing Services at Rainbow PUSH
Location: 930 E 50th St, Chicago, IL 60615
No time given, but a livestream of the services will be shared for the public.
We also wanted to share some thoughts from friends of RogerEbert.com about the Reverend Jackson:
As a child growing up in the Midwest during the ‘70s, the Reverend Jesse Jackson who was inextricably tied to the city of Chicago, represented hope. He was a national leader who looked like me, talked like me and represented every element of my Blackness. Sure, we knew of and studied Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. in school, but Jackson was the living and breathing embodiment of King’s dream. Jackson instilled pride and a belief that yes, you can do anything if you put your mind to it including running for the presidency of the United States. Thank you Mr. Jackson for helping a young Black boy believe in himself. – Shawn Edwards
I attended Howard University with Santita Jackson, so my perspective is a little different. Although many will speak on his political legacy, I believe his biggest legacy was as Santita’s Dad. Rev. Jackson supported and encouraged her to join the political arena in a very different lane than her siblings. She is outspoken and in a class of her own…just like her Dad. Their bond was and is unbreakable. – Carla Renata
My heavens! I met the Reverend Jesse Jackon a couple times and thought about him last week because of some work I’ve done about Dr. King, and some recollection of the 1968 Poor People’s Campaign. He spoke at our high school during Operation PUSH’s heyday. The girls in the auditorium went nuts. He was a talented athlete, a gifted orator’s whose DNC keynote address brought me to the verge of tears, and a human bridge to the most contentious confrontations of the Civil Rights Movement, not only in The Deep South, but in hate-filled Gage Park. My condolences to his loved ones, especially Jesse, Jr., a fellow former St. Albans Bulldog. His dad is irreplaceable. – Bijan Bayne
from Roger Ebert https://ift.tt/2XWQoM7
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