‘He was a giant’: Suburban leaders mourn passing of civil rights leader Jesse Jackson

As a 19-year-old young Black mother, Regina Brent recalls being in awe the first time she met the Rev. Jesse Jackson while attending Saturday morning meetings at the then-Operation P.U.S.H headquarters in Chicago.

The meetings, which included prayer and workshops, uplifted and rejuvenated attendees “to go out into the world and make change,” said Brent, now 72, of Aurora.

“I owe all of my activist work, all of my political insightfulness and my community outreach work to Rev. Jesse Jackson because growing up in Chicago you had a voice due to a man who you heard loud and clear,” said Brent, president and founder of Unity Partnership and co-chair of the MLK Unity Project in DuPage County. “You couldn’t rest in his presence without standing up for what was right. And even though you had little means to do it, he made you feel really powerful regardless of the outcome. He was a giant.”

A protégé of the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., Jackson was a prominent leader of the Civil Rights Movement for decades. He suffered from progressive supranuclear palsy, a neurodegenerative disorder, and died Tuesday at age 84.

Brent and other suburban Black community leaders wonder who now will take up Jackson’s mantle of leadership.

During the late 1960s and early 1970s, Jackson’s Operation Breadbasket and later Operation P.U.S.H (People United to Serve Humanity) served Chicago’s disadvantaged Black neighborhoods by distributing nutritious meals in food deserts and helping the unemployed find jobs and learn skills.

These programs served as “a resourceful tool for the community,” said Brent, her voice choking with emotion. Jackson also taught Black community members “how to maneuver politics” and make their voices heard through voting.

“As people of color and coming from out of the Jim Crow days where we didn't have many rights at the time, Jesse Jackson instilled in us that education was the key to success,” Brent said. “He could take you from public aid and the projects to a payroll and a pension just by his principles of teaching you how to be independent of the system. He showed you how to become a leader within your own locality.”

Jackson was internationally known as founder of the Rainbow/PUSH Coalition. But despite his larger-than-life persona, Jackson also got involved in local civil rights issues.

He spoke up against racial bullying at Naperville Central High School stemming from a student's Craigslist post in November 2019 that showed a picture of a Black student with the heading “Slave for Sale.” Jackson protested alongside community members after a multiracial group of 18 were asked to switch seats at a Naperville restaurant because employees told them two white customers did not want to sit near Blacks.

Jackson also rallied against the sale of high-powered rifles outside a Lake Barrington gun manufacturer and spoke up against the firing of a Wheaton College professor for showing solidarity with Muslims.

Barrington Hills attorney Andrew Stoltmann, who’s known Jackson for 20 years, remembers protesting together against unfair, racist practices by Chicago brokerage firms.

“I was just devastated,” said the 54-year-old on learning of Jackson’s death. “What an amazing human being. He cared tremendously for not just African Americans but for people across the country. I feel I lost a brother when he died.”

Stoltmann said Jackson’s “rock star,” over-the-top personality on television wasn’t his true self.

“At his core, he (was) a relatively humble person,” he said. “There is kind of a disconnect between what the public sees and reality.”

Longtime colleague the Rev. Clyde Brooks of Arlington Heights said Jackson “helped to change the moral fiber of Chicago as well as the nation.”

“It will be hard to replace him,” said Brooks.

The duo had worked together on civil rights matters in the region since the 1970s when Brooks headed the Southern Christian Leadership Conference Chicago chapter.

“I had a great admiration for him,” said the now 90-year-old pastor, founder and chairman of the Illinois Commission on Diversity and Human Relations.

Brooks called Jackson a “no nonsense man” who put pressure on government and civic leaders “to do the right thing, especially as it related to the treatment of disadvantaged people and people of color.”

“He was greatly misunderstood by some and that is because they didn’t know him,” Brooks said. “A lot of folks, white folks and Black folks, have jobs because of his work in civil rights and urging corporations to do the right thing. He will be missed.”

Jackson also never backed down from a fight, and if his health wasn’t failing, he would have been involved in protests against recent federal immigration actions, Brooks said.

“We need a man of his skill and talent right now given what is going on in our nation,” Brooks said.

Former Aurora Mayor Richard Irvin called Jackson “a mentor, a brother, a father figure, and a friend.”

“Today, we mourn the passing of a giant,” Irvin said in a statement. “A true icon for our community, our country, and our world.”

“From the pulpit to the protest line, from Chicago to cities across the globe, his presence moved both mountains and hearts. He challenged systems, elevated voices, opened doors, and inspired generations of leaders to believe that change was not only possible — it was necessary.”