I first met Reverend Jesse Jackson in the 1960s through friends connected to the Apollo Theater in Harlem. At the time, he was working with Operation Breadbasket under Dr. Martin Luther King. In the 1970s, he began forming what would become Operation PUSH—People United to Save Humanity. I was blessed to be there at the beginning.
What started as professional collaboration became a friendship that lasted more than 50 years.
We produced major PUSH Expos in Chicago to draw national attention to inclusion in politics, education, and economic opportunity. Quincy Jones helped produce. Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, The Supremes, the Jackson 5—giants came to support the cause. The energy in those arenas was electric, but the mission was always clear: open doors that had long been closed. Jesse believed opportunity should not be rationed.
I eventually traveled with Jesse, helping coordinate media and schedules. It was demanding work and, at times, dangerous. Not everyone welcomed his voice for justice. I remember sitting in a church during a bomb threat, aware that standing beside him was not symbolic—it was real. Leadership on the front lines carries risk, and he accepted that without hesitation.
Yet what shaped me most was quieter.
Our hotel rooms were often adjoining. The last thing I saw every night was his Bible open on the bedside table. The public saw the orator. I saw the believer. That image profoundly influenced my own call to ministry.
I watched Jackie Jackson get their children ready for school while Jesse and I headed out to who knows where. He could travel because she anchored the home. Their family—children who went on to serve in Congress and business—remains one of his greatest legacies.
In later years, he wrote a letter recommending me for chaplaincy service, noting our decades of friendship and shared ministry. That meant more to me than he knew.
My last memory is sitting beside him at PUSH headquarters as his son Jonathan spoke. He nudged my knee and said with joy, “Johnny’s here.” That pride said everything.
America is honoring him now. I simply remember my friend—faithful, courageous, and committed—until we meet again at Jesus’ feet.