The Democratic National Convention will mark many transitions, not least as a generational torchbearer.
President Biden this week effectively handed over control of the party, and the 2024 presidential nomination, to Vice President Kamala Harris – an 81-year-old with decades in public life handing over the national stage to her 59-year-old protégé.
Sunday night, in a less important stage, the most ardent progressives of the party stopped to recognize another leader and another transition: Several hundred people streamed into the auditorium at the headquarters of Rainbow PUSH to shower praise and affirmation on Rev. Jesse L. Jackson.
Jackson is 82 and living with Parkinson’s disease. A year ago, he looked fragile and spoke only a few words when he officially resigned as president of the organization he created in the 1970s (PUSH for People United to Save Humanity) as a force for civil rights and economic equality.
Sitting in a wheelchair, Jackson soaked in the celebration Sunday night from the front of the auditorium where he has become too much to urge on his followers. For more than three hours, he received a steady stream of admirers who said he had trained and inspired him for decades. All the while, prominent Democrats spoke from the stage.
From Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.), to Rep. Maxine Waters (D-Los Angeles), to Rev. Al Sharpton, to independent presidential candidate Cornel West, they agreed: Jackson and his work are groundbreaking for the Black president. candidates in 1984 and 1988 sowed the political field for the eventual blossoming of other Black leaders, including Harris.
Rep. That’s why Jayapal (D-Wash.) is the first of a half-dozen left-leaning House members to say his career might not have happened but for the inspiration of Jackson, who was born in Greenville, SC, to become lieutenant governor. to Pdt. Martin Luther King Jr., and started a rights crusade in Chicago.
“He made sure everybody had a place to stand. Everybody was somebody,” Jayapal said, echoing Jackson’s signature “I am somebody” refrain. He mentioned all the groups Jackson welcomed into his organization — different races, ethnicities, LGBTQ individuals, workers farming etc. “And don’t forget that civil rights and economic justice are very intertwined, and nobody, nobody makes a better argument than the Reverend Jesse Jackson.”
“We stand on your shoulders, Rev. Jesse Jackson,” Jayapal said to applause. “To every elected official we will see on the (convention) stage in the next few days, we are on your shoulders. We are here because you have paved the way for us.”
The Nation, a magazine of the American political left, sponsored the celebration of Jackson. Publisher and former editor Katrina vanden Heuvel brought a printed copy of a 1988 editorial in which the magazine endorsed Jackson. He noted that he has been an early voice in reducing the size of the US military and diverting savings to domestic programs. Vanden Heuvel called Jackson “a man of peace and a great citizen of the world.”
Many of those on stage, including Rep. Ro Khanna (D-Fremont), spoke about how they followed Jackson from a young age, galvanized into a life of public service by Jackson’s vocal speeches in 1984 and 1988 Democratic conventions.
In 1988, Khanna recalled, Jackson had said that he would not be satisfied with being a small boat, plying the waters in a safe harbor; if he wants to go out in a big boat, in the ocean open to big challenges in the world, such as apartheid in South Africa and economic injustice in America.
Jackson collected more delegates in the 1988 race than any other candidate except Democratic candidate Michael Dukakis, governor of Massachusetts, who would lose heavily to George HW Bush. Two opponents won fewer delegates than Jackson that year: then-Sen. Joe Biden and Vice Presidential candidate Al Gore.
Jackson’s ringing oratory to delegates at the Democratic convention that year built on the rhythms and rhythms of his years as a Baptist preacher. No one listening that night, at the Omni in Atlanta, would mistake what they heard for a concession speech.
“I’m tired of being in a small boat, far inside the harbor bar,” he said at the end of his address. “I’m going out where the great ships float, out in the deep where the great ones are. And if my frail ship seems too small for the waves that sweep it, I’d rather go down in a terrible battle than die a sleepy death in protected coast.”
“We must get out, friends, where the big boat is.”
By the time Jackson finished, roared “Keep hope alive!” once, twice … fourth time, the Democratic delegates were rhapsodic. Someone is crying.
When he spoke, Sharpton described Jackson’s extraordinary rise, “born in the Deep South, on the back of a bus, and developed into a world leader.” He credits Jackson with creating a language that progressives, especially Black leaders, still speak.
Some might say that Jackson, because of his illness, “can’t walk like he used to and talk like he used to,” Sharpton said.
The voice rose, MSNBC commentators suggested they would be wrong. “I want you to know that every time a black man opens his mouth and speaks of hypocrisy, Jesse Jackson speaks!” he shouted, as the crowd jumped. “Every time we walk, Jesse Jackson walks!”
Applause and shouting reinforced Sharpton’s conclusion. A video screen flashed on Jackson, a small smile broke his lips.
More than 90 minutes later, the crowd had thinned. A moderator of the Nation hinted that Jackson could speak. All eyes were trained on the front of the Rainbow PUSH auditorium and silence fell. But no words came.
Soon, a platoon of Jackson’s aides wheeled his wheelchair into a waiting van, which rolled slowly into the Chicago night.
