[nfb-talk] A Tribute to Kenneth Jernigan:

[Kenneth Chrane]

Braille Monitor January/February '99

THE BRAILLE MONITOR

Vol. 42, No. 1 January/February, 1999

Barbara Pierce, Editor
Published in inkprint, in Braille, and on cassette by
THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND
MARC MAURER, PRESIDENT

National Office
1800 Johnson Street
Baltimore, Maryland 21230
NFB Net BBS: (651) 696-1975
Web Page address:
http://www.nfb.org

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should be sent to the National Office.

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cost. Donations should be made payable to National Federation of the Blind 
and sent to:

National Federation of the Blind
1800 Johnson Street
Baltimore, Maryland 21230

THE NATIONAL FEDERATION OF THE BLIND IS NOT AN ORGANIZATION
SPEAKING FOR THE BLIND-IT IS THE BLIND SPEAKING FOR THEMSELVES

ISSN 0006-8829

Vol. 42, No. 1 January/February, 1999

Contents

block quote
In Memoriam

Eulogy
    by Marc Maurer

block quote end

block quote
Kenneth Jernigan: the Monument and the Man
    by Marc Maurer

Kenneth Jernigan, 71, Advocate for the Blind
    by Richard Severo

The Jernigan Family Remembers
Mary Ellen Jernigan

My Brother, My Friend
    by Lloyd Jernigan

Marie Antoinette Cobb

The Early Years:

Federation Leader Appointed Director of Iowa Commission for the Blind
    by Jacobus tenBroek

Profile of a Trailblazer
    by Anthony Mannino

Elected Officials Remember


President William Clinton

Senator Paul Sarbanes


 Congressman Robert Ehrlich, Jr


Congressman Elijah Cummings

Public Officials Assess the Man


Suzanne Mitchell


Frank Kurt Cylke


Fredric K. Schroeder, Ph.D.

Voices from Around the World

Reflections on the Life of a Valued Friend and Colleague.
    by Euclid J. Herie

Dr. Jernigan Will Always Be With Us
    by Pedro Zurita


 Jonathan Mosen


Norbert Mueller


Allan Dodds


Sir John Wilson

block quote end

block quote
Thailand Speaks
    by Pecharat Techavachara


Enrique Elissalde


Hans Cohn


Kua Cheng Hock


Colin Low

Friends in the Business Community Speak


Raymond Kurzweil, Ph.D.


David Pillischer

Private Organizations Speak


Jean Dyon Norris


Susan J. Spungin, Ed.D.


Tuck Tinsley, Ed.D.


 Lawrence F. Campbell


Gerald M. Kass

Mass Mail Friends Say Thank You

The Students Speak


Jim Portillo


Jay Wolf


Mariyam Cementwala

Words from Colleagues Old and New


Peggy Elliott


A Hero Among Us
        by Michael Baillif


Convention Reflections.
        by Stephen O. Benson


Thomas Bickford


Donald C. Capps


Dr. Kenneth Jernigan: My Teacher, My Mentor, My Friend
        by Nell Cardwell Carney


Of Grammar Lessons and Gold Tie Chains
        by Marsha Dye


Paul and Joan Flynn


Mary Ellen Gabias


James Gashel


Deborah Kendrick


 Catherine Kudlick


Larry A. McKeever


Through the Hands of Such as These
        by James H. Omvig


Barbara Pierce


Ruth Hazel Staley


Making It Count
        by Barbara Walker

The Fifth Generation Remembers
        by Nicolas Stockton

Recipes

Prayer

block quote end

block quote

block quote end

[LEAD PHOTO/CAPTION: Kenneth Jernigan, November 13, 1926, October 12, 1998]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Steve Hastalis plays the flute before the memorial service.]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Federationists seated at the back of the ballroom listen 
intently to speakers at the memorial service.]
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Barbara Baack plays "May the Good Lord Bless and Keep You" 
on her harmonica at Dr. Jernigan's grave.]

In Memoriam

This entire issue is devoted to remembering and celebrating the life and 
work of our deeply loved President Emeritus, Kenneth Jernigan. The November, 
1998,
issue described in words and pictures his funeral which took place on 
October 15. On December 5 well over 600 people from across North America and 
around
the world gathered for a service of recollection and celebration, which 
began at 1:00 p.m. in the International Ballroom of the Omni Hotel in 
Baltimore
and ended at 5:00 p.m.

As people filed into the room, Steve Hastalis of our Chicago Chapter was 
playing his flute quietly. Steve plays beautifully, and, following such 
favorites
as "Climb Every Mountain," "To Dream the Impossible Dream," and "Amazing 
Grace," the final selection was "Glory, Glory, Federation." Then, promptly 
at
one, President Maurer opened the service with the words: "As Dr. Jernigan, 
who brought us all to this meeting, has frequently said, `Federation 
meetings
start on time.'" He then introduced Father Gregory Paul, the pastor of St. 
Joseph's Monastery Church and the Jernigans' close friend, to give the 
invocation.
After that a stream of men and women who had known Dr. Jernigan came to the 
platform to remember this man who changed our lives and altered the face of
work with the blind in this nation and, in significant measure, around the 
world. Many of those tributes and recollections appear in the following 
pages.
Many more letters and reflections are also included in this memorial issue. 
Taken together they begin to suggest the energy, the creativity, and the 
humanity
of this man who dared to dream and taught us to dream as well and who led us 
in the march to make those dreams reality.

One of the first people to speak was U.S. Senator Paul Sarbanes of Maryland, 
whose remarks in the Congressional Record appear elsewhere in this issue. 
Gary
Magarrell, Vice President of Strategic Planning, represented the Canadian 
National Institute for the Blind, and Penny Hartin spoke on behalf of the 
World
Blind Union. Near the close of the afternoon Lloyd Rasmussen sang the 
"Technology Song" that moved Dr. Jernigan at last summer's convention, and 
Tom Bickford
accompanied him on the guitar. One of the day's final speakers was Camelia 
Sadat, daughter of assassinated Egyptian President Anwar Sadat. She drew 
parallels
between her father's and Dr. Jernigan's qualities of greatness and their 
willingness to sacrifice everything to bring about their vision of a better 
world.

One of the closing events of the afternoon was the recital of the Jewish 
Kaddish for the dead led by Dr. Harold Snider as the audience stood in rapt 
silence.
Then Dr. Maurer quietly read several lines from Longfellow's poem "The Day 
Is Done":

And the night shall be filled with music,

And the cares, that infest the day,

Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,

And as silently steal away.

Since the ballroom was required immediately for another function, the 
audience swiftly emptied the hall and boarded busses either to visit the 
grave site
or to travel directly to the National Center for the Blind. Hundreds filed 
past the grave, which was illuminated and had been decked with greens, 
holly,
and red roses. One of those who made that pilgrimage was Barbara Baack, 
President of the Southern Alameda County Chapter of the NFB of California. 
As Federationists
stood quietly at the graveside, Barbara raised her harmonica to her lips and 
quietly played "May the Good Lord Bless and Keep You." Those present agreed
that it was a wonderful moment of shared blessing and intention.

Meanwhile at the National Center guests were making their way to the first 
floor of the Barney Street wing, where a large space had just been 
refurbished
and where enough tables for every one to be seated had been set up. Soft 
drinks were available, and servers circulated with hors d'oeuvres. Shortly 
after
six a delicious but unpretentious buffet dinner was served to the entire 
crowd.

After dinner brief tours of the facility were available for those interested 
in taking them. By shortly after nine everyone was on the way back to the 
hotel
or on to other engagements. The day had been memorable. Together we had 
celebrated the life of the man who had counseled and led and loved us during 
his
entire adult life. We returned to our homes to take up the challenge he left 
us: to conduct our lives with confidence and hope and to pass on these gifts
to those who come after us.

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Maurer delivers the eulogy for Dr. Jernigan at St. 
Joseph's Monastery Church, October 15, 1998.] [PHOTO DESCRIPTION: Dr. 
Jernigan and
President Maurer stand with linked hands raised. CAPTION: The passing of the 
presidency from Kenneth Jernigan to Marc Maurer, July, 1986]

Eulogy

Delivered by Marc Maurer

>From the Editor: Marc Maurer, President of the National Federation of the 
Blind, delivered the eulogy at Dr. Jernigan's October 15 funeral. Here is 
the
text:

Mrs. Jernigan, Dr. Jernigan's closest and best friend;

Senator Sarbanes, who came to the Canadian Embassy a month ago to 
participate in honoring Dr. Jernigan when he was given the Winston Gordon 
Award by the
Canadian National Institute for the Blind; Ellen Sauerbrey, who at Dr. 
Jernigan's seventieth birthday party was introduced by Dr. Jernigan as the 
next
governor of the state of Maryland; Dr. Fred Schroeder, who was a student of 
Dr. Jernigan's and who currently serves as the Commissioner of the 
Rehabilitation
Services Administration of the United States;

Father Gregory; Federation members; and friends: Dr. Jernigan, who 
understood the spiritual dimension of human living, decided to join the 
Catholic Church
only a short time ago. He was as thorough in his approach to becoming a part 
of the Church as he was with everything else. After the 1998 convention of
the National Federation of the Blind, the Jernigans invited Father Gregory, 
the pastor of St. Joseph's Monastery Church, to their home to offer a Mass.
A number of the Jernigans' closest friends joined them in the dining room of 
their house for this celebration, in which Dr. and Mrs. Jernigan pledged 
their
faith in the principles of Catholicism.

There have been many tributes to Dr. Jernigan in the last few days and 
weeks. We cannot review them all. But there is one that came dated today 
which says:

To the Family and Friends of Dr. Kenneth Jernigan

I would like to express my sincerest condolences to the family and friends 
of Dr. Kenneth Jernigan. Today is truly a sad day for our nation. Dr. 
Jernigan
contributed so much to improving the quality of life for blind people in 
America that it would be difficult to recite even a small number of his 
contributions.
He was a pioneer in the field of rehabilitation of the blind, a pioneer in 
promoting high quality education for blind children and, in particular, 
rekindling
an awareness of the vital role of Braille literacy. Through his efforts as a 
champion of civil rights and his work with the National Federation of the
Blind, he led blind people of our nation through the dawn of equal 
opportunity to a place that he called "the day after civil rights."

As you know, President Clinton and I are deeply committed to assisting all 
Americans in acquiring the skills and confidence they need to be fully 
productive
and independent. Dr. Jernigan's life is perhaps the most vivid testament to 
what people can achieve if given the opportunity. But Dr. Jernigan did not
simply claim this gift for himself; he shared it with countless others. As a 
result blind people today have the opportunity to live integrated, 
fulfilling
lives. His life and work benefited all blind people and, by so doing, 
benefited our nation as a whole. Those of us who share Dr. Jernigan's vision 
of equality
can honor his life by continuing to build new opportunities for all 
Americans.

Richard W. Riley
United States Secretary of Education

Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, who served as President of the National Federation of 
the Blind for almost two decades and as the spiritual leader of the 
organized
blind movement for much longer, brought into the lives of many tens of 
thousands of people (both blind and sighted) a measure of understanding and 
hope
which would not have existed without his inspiration and generosity. He was 
a builder who could take a piece of dilapidated property and transform it.
He did the same with programs for the blind, and he worked his magic on the 
lives of individuals.

Dr. Jernigan was our teacher, our leader, and our friend. He taught us that 
those who truly learn to live will recognize the vital importance of 
goodness,
generosity, the right spirit, and the willingness to work. He taught us to 
use the intelligence God gave us and to go where our minds led us. He taught
us to think, to speak, and to act for ourselves.

I became Dr. Jernigan's student at the age of eighteen, wondering what the 
future might hold for me and harboring the frightening suspicion that the 
answer
might be "almost nothing at all." Within a year I had learned to travel 
effectively with a white cane, to cut down a tree with a two-man cross-cut 
saw,
to overhaul an automobile engine, to barbecue hamburgers over a hot fire, to 
communicate using Braille, and to engage in debate. Dr. Jernigan gave me the
tools for obtaining an education-he taught me how to think.

Our teacher insisted on excellence. He wanted us to do our utmost, and he 
would accept nothing less. But the standard he set for himself was at least 
as
demanding as the one established for us. "If it doesn't work," he said, "it 
isn't right." This is a difficult standard to meet, but it is the only one
that matters. Sometimes we would urge him to believe that we had done the 
right thing, but it just hadn't worked. To which he would respond, "Don't 
give
me that."

Dr. Jernigan believed in individual responsibility. Nobody else can live 
your life for you, he said; you must live it for yourself. Nobody else can 
make
your decisions for you; you must make them for yourself. Nobody else can win 
your independence for you, he told us; you must win it for yourself every
day. However, in winning your independence, it is necessary to ask for the 
help of a friend, and Dr. Jernigan was that friend.

The need for friends and colleagues to support one another is the reason for 
the founding of the National Federation of the Blind, and this is also why
Dr. Jernigan spent almost fifty years building, promoting, and strengthening 
the organization. He became its President in 1968, and within seven years
an affiliate of the Federation existed in every state. He saw the need for 
coordination among programs for the blind, and in 1978 the National Center 
for
the Blind became reality. Today in the field of work with the blind there is 
greater cooperation and harmony than has existed for half a century. Dr. 
Jernigan
understood that blind people must have a means for learning about 
technology, and in 1990 the International Braille and Technology Center for 
the Blind
was formed. He recognized the urgency to inform members of the general 
public about the normality of blindness, and the Kernel Book program of the 
National
Federation of the Blind was founded.

He comprehended the vital importance of providing information to the blind, 
and the National NEWSLINE Network for the Blind®, the program that provides
the text of newspapers to blind people over touch-tone telephone lines, was 
established. He perceived the necessity for the blind to have access to 
information
about employment, and the technological program entitled "America's 
Jobline®" was initiated. He dreamed of a future for us which has never 
existed and
which cannot exist without research and education, and the plans for the 
National Research and Training Institute for the Blind were drawn.

Wherever there was a need, Dr. Jernigan did his best to find a way to meet 
it. But he did more. He showed us the methods to do as he did. He taught us 
how
to learn and how to live. He taught us to believe in a future bright with 
promise, and he gave us the techniques to meet that future with decision. We
came to him without hope, and we left with confidence. We came with doubt, 
and we left with joy. We came with the belief that for us there was no 
future,
and we left with a fighting spirit. By his example he showed us what it 
meant to give of ourselves and to love.

There were a few who knew him as "Kenneth." Most thought of him as "Dr. 
Jernigan." But those who knew him best called him "Sir." In one sense our 
beloved
friend is no longer with us, but in another his spirit can never, will never 
depart. We have learned too well and grown too much to permit it.

When Dr. Jernigan ceased to be President of the National Federation of the 
Blind in 1986, he spoke to the National Convention quoting the poem of Lord 
Byron,
which says:

So we'll go no more a-roving

So late into the night,

Though the heart be still as loving,

And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest.

Though the night was made for loving,

And the day returns too soon,

Yet we'll go no more a-roving

By the light of the moon.

Dr. Jernigan loved the Federation and the people who make it what it is, and 
he found great joy in serving as its chief executive. But the measure of the
man may be understood in the fact that he ceased being the Federation's 
President at the height of his strength and power because he knew it would 
be best
for the movement. He gave of himself wholeheartedly, and he never counted 
the cost. We wish for Dr. Jernigan the rest that he so richly deserves. But 
we
also promise what we know in our hearts to be so: that indomitable fighting 
spirit will go a-roving still; it will live and thrive within each of us. 
Dr.
Jernigan, Mrs. Jernigan, and the rest of his friends and family would have 
it no other way.

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Lloyd and Kenneth Jernigan with their dog Wag in the early 
1930's]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Kenneth Jernigan as a young man doing a handstand]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan in a classroom at the Iowa Commission for the 
Blind in 1968]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan walks down the sidewalk in front of the 
Commission for the Blind building in Des Moines, in 1972.] [PHOTO/CAPTION: 
Dr. Jernigan
in 1986]

[PHOTO DESCRIPTION: This picture shows the length of the Johnson Street wing 
in its original condition. The floor is patched cement; the ceiling has 
exposed
pipes; and the support pillars are surrounded by wood planking. CAPTION: The 
first floor of the Johnson Street wing before it was transformed into the
Materials Center]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. and Mrs. Jernigan outside the Tarzana, California, 
office of the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan sits in a characteristic position as he listens 
to a speaker in 1996.]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan enjoys Thanksgiving dinner in 1997 with Dianna 
Marie Maurer standing beside him and Mrs. Jernigan behind them.]

Kenneth Jernigan: the Monument and the Man

by Marc Maurer

>From the Editor: President Marc Maurer delivered the following address at 
the opening of the memorial service for National Federation of the Blind 
President
Emeritus Kenneth Jernigan December 5, 1998.

Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, who served as President of the National Federation of 
the Blind for almost twenty years and as a principal leader of the 
Federation
for much longer, changed the prospects for blind people in the United States 
and the world. His influence is felt by tens of thousands who know of his
life and work and by many others who have never heard his name. And although 
he himself was blind and one of the most outstanding leaders of the blind
of the twentieth century, he also taught the sighted. His life is the story 
and the symbol of the organized blind movement he loved and nurtured and 
built
with every ounce of his strength and being. Without his effort the National 
Federation of the Blind could not have possessed the scope and depth that we
have come to expect and take for granted. To speak of the Federation without 
the persuasive power of Dr. Jernigan is impossible, and to speak of Dr. 
Jernigan
without the broad range of activities of the Federation is equally 
inconceivable. He and the Federation are one-the man and the organization he 
built.

Who was this man that we have come to honor and remember? Some have thought 
of him as a builder with the capacity to dream of a structure and cause it 
to
be erected of brick and wood and steel and stone. Some have thought of him 
as a writer with the ability to express a thought on paper with elegance and
incisiveness. Some have thought of him as a logician with the force to 
illuminate complex ideas in debate. Some have thought of him as a teacher 
who could
nurture the quest for knowledge. Some have thought of him as a political 
leader who could galvanize others to action. Some have thought of him as a 
caring
human being who could touch the heart of a five-year-old girl, a 
twenty-eight-year-old student, or a seventy-eight-year-old grandmother with 
equal ease.
Some have thought of him as a speaker with a vibrant voice that could stir 
the spirit. And some have thought of him as an implacable adversary of 
injustice
and a stalwart champion of the underdog. But those who knew him best thought 
of him as a close and abiding friend. He would certainly give us advice if
he thought we needed it, but he would also give us help to make the plans he 
recommended come true. Dr. Kenneth Jernigan was not a one-dimensional man.
He was all that we remember-and more than we can write.

Kenneth Jernigan was born on November 13, 1926, in Detroit. Shortly after 
his birth the Jernigans moved back to their farm in Tennessee, where young 
Jernigan
was raised. Blind from birth, his training on the farm was not calculated to 
instill confidence or to prepare him to undertake the challenges of 
administering
programs or teaching others.

The Jernigan house consisted of four rooms. There were no electricity, no 
radio, no telephone, no reading material (except the Bible), and no indoor 
plumbing.
Most boys were expected to help with the farm work, attending to chores in 
the barn and working in the fields. When they were not assisting with family
obligations, they could fish or roam the woods. This was not true for 
Kenneth Jernigan. He was blind and not permitted off the front porch.

This young blind boy discovered early that blindness demanded modifications 
of customary procedures. Visiting neighbors on Sunday was a tradition in the
Tennessee of those days. Those who were to make a visit would walk or (if 
the distance was too great) climb into the wagon and drive to the 
neighboring
farm. Young Jernigan learned early that he was not welcome to play with the 
other girls and boys during these visits. Because he was blind, he was 
expected
to sit with the grown-ups. If he found himself in need of going to the 
bathroom, he would have to ask one of the older men to show him the way to 
the outhouse,
which was an unwelcome interruption to the grown-up conversation. So he 
planned ahead. The day before the visit he began to restrict his intake of 
water.
The visits to the outhouse were no longer required, and the interruptions 
for the grown-ups came to an end. But for Kenneth Jernigan these outings 
meant
enforced isolation and a full bladder.

Despite the restrictions, young Jernigan was expected to help with household 
chores. One of these was sausage-making. A hand-operated meat grinder was 
fastened
to a plank set upon two chairs. Kenneth Jernigan's job was to hold down one 
end of the plank by sitting on it. Sometimes he was permitted to turn the 
crank
on the grinder. He was also expected to churn butter-a chore he thought 
exceedingly dull. He tried to persuade his mother to let him add hot water 
to the
cream, which speeds the process, but she refused.

Kenneth Jernigan's parents loved him deeply, but they thought that blindness 
and helplessness were synonymous, and this young blind boy knew nothing to
counterbalance the assessment.

Before he reached the age of seven, Jernigan was sent to the Tennessee 
School for the Blind, and he found it a liberating experience. There were 
children
from many parts of the state; there were classes to stimulate the mind and 
challenge the imagination; there were books to read; and there was a world 
much
larger than four rooms and a front porch. Of primary importance to this 
child with an inquiring mind were the books. Even at this tender age young 
Jernigan
knew that he needed to find some method for breaking out of the isolation 
and boredom of a four-room farmhouse. He decided to stuff his mind with 
everything
he could learn from books. He hoped to use this learning to help him through 
college, and he read voraciously.

Still the messages of inferiority did not stop. When Jernigan had reached 
high-school age, he asked his father to permit him to join the other men in 
the
fields, who were making hay. The refusal was direct and unequivocal. A blind 
worker (even a strong and husky one) was not wanted in the hay fields. So
Jernigan was left to his own devices, and he established a furniture 
business on the farm, making tables and lamps from materials close at hand. 
To fashion
the legs of these tables, Jernigan collected sewing spools and bolted them 
together. The result was a table leg that appeared to have been turned on a
lathe with extensive and expert handwork. The simplicity and elegance of the 
design caused his furniture to be in constant demand. And, incidentally, the
profits were greater than he could have received for the work in the hay 
fields.

When it came time for college, Jernigan expressed his wish to become a 
lawyer. His rehabilitation counselor told him it could not be done and 
insisted that
he study something else. "You can go to college and study law if you want 
to," said the counselor, "but you'll pay for it yourself. If you study 
something
else, we'll help you with the costs." Jernigan didn't have any money, so he 
became a scholar in English and education, and the world lost a great lawyer
but gained a magnificent teacher.

During the time that he spent at college, Jernigan continued in business. He 
tutored students, typed papers, and sold candy and other products to 
students
on campus. He also wrote for the school newspaper and created a literary 
magazine.

When he had finished college, Jernigan (thinking about the future for blind 
children) concluded that they must have an example to follow if they were to
achieve success-they must have role models. In all humility he thought that 
he could provide encouragement for the students at the school. When he was
offered a job as a teacher of blind children, he took it, and with this 
decision there began a half-century of imaginative work to stimulate, to 
inspire,
to challenge, and to direct blind people toward a brighter future.

In 1949 Dr. Jernigan joined the National Federation of the Blind because he 
recognized that he could not achieve the ambitious objective to change 
prospects
for the blind without the help of others. To improve education for blind 
children, to persuade the rehabilitation agency in Tennessee to be more 
responsive
to the blind, and to enhance employment opportunities for blind people 
within the state-these were the achievements Jernigan was hoping to reach. 
Even
though he was a member of the Tennessee affiliate of the Federation, Dr. 
Jernigan thought there was no point in belonging to or fooling with a 
national
organization of the blind. However, in 1952, when he came to the convention 
of the National Federation of the Blind in Nashville, he met its dynamic 
President,
Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, and things changed. Dr. Jernigan had been in the 
convention hall for only a few minutes when he said to himself, "I have been 
wrong.
The National Convention of the Federation is where the action is, and I 
intend to be part of it."

Dr. Jernigan's efforts in organizing the 1952 Convention of the National 
Federation of the Blind are among the most remarkable in our history. 
Governor
Gordon Browning of Tennessee addressed the convention banquet and introduced 
the Federation's President, Dr. Jacobus tenBroek. Governor Browning's 
address
to the banquet and the speech of Dr. tenBroek were carried live on WSM, one 
of the most powerful radio stations in the United States. In addition, the
NBC network broadcast a nationwide address by Dr. tenBroek. All of these 
events were arranged by Dr. Jernigan. The National Convention was impressed 
by
the skill of this young man, and it elected him to the Board of Directors. 
But perhaps the most profound change that took place at the 1952 convention
was in the heart and the mind of Dr. Jernigan himself. He had observed the 
potential of self-organization on a national basis, and he had become 
committed
to strengthening this vehicle for collective action.

Within a year after Dr. Jernigan attended his first National Convention, he 
faced a crisis in Tennessee. He learned that one of the teachers at the 
School
for the Blind had been taking liberties with some of the high school girls, 
had been drinking on the job, and had been verbally and physically abusive
to some of the younger boys-threatening them and hitting them in the mouth 
with his fist. The students involved had reported the incidents to the 
principal
and had been confined to their rooms for a week. Dr. Jernigan took the 
matter to the school board and demanded that the abusive teacher be 
dismissed from
employment and that the superintendent, who had known about the actions and 
condoned them, also be disciplined. When the school year came to a close, 
the
superintendent was fired; the abusive teacher was fired; and Dr. Jernigan 
was fired for (as the school board put it) failing to be loyal to his 
employer.

Dr. Jernigan wondered what to do. He needed a job, and he was thinking about 
buying a gas station or taking up some other occupation. Then, in a 
conversation
with Dr. tenBroek, he learned something else about the Federation. An 
opening for an instructor existed at the California Orientation Center for 
the Blind.
If Dr. Jernigan wanted the job, Dr. tenBroek thought he might be able to 
secure the post. So in 1953 Dr. Jernigan moved to California and taught at 
the
California Orientation Center.

During this same period he began to travel extensively for the Federation, 
building and strengthening state affiliates and local chapters. Every moment
of vacation was dedicated to Federation work. In one report to President 
tenBroek, Dr. Jernigan summarized travels on behalf of the Federation over 
an
eleven-day period into Tennessee, Georgia, South Carolina, and North 
Carolina. That year, 1956, Dr. Jernigan organized affiliates in nine states.

In those early years Dr. tenBroek was the thinker and dreamer, and Dr. 
Jernigan was the political leader, the organizer, and the builder. Dr. 
tenBroek was
the founder, and Dr. Jernigan was the committed advocate and assistant.

In late 1957 Dr. tenBroek and Dr. Jernigan discussed the needs of the 
Federation and planned for the future. Either Dr. Jernigan would establish 
himself
in a Congressional district and run for Congress, or he would seek a 
position as the director of an agency for the blind. The worst program for 
the blind
in America existed in the state of Iowa, and its directorship was available. 
The Board of the Iowa Commission for the Blind consisted of three people.
By doing a little research, Dr. Jernigan discovered that the Chairman of the 
Commission Board had transcribed a college textbook for him. He called her
to say that he was coming through Des Moines, and he wondered if he might be 
able to talk with her. He was, indeed, coming through Des Moines. He was 
coming
to visit her. Within a few hours of their meeting the Commission Board 
Chairman disclosed to Dr. Jernigan that an opening existed for the 
directorship.
They discussed the matter, and she agreed to recommend him for the job.

There were two other members on the Commission Board. One of these was the 
Superintendent of the School for the Blind. Dr. Jernigan learned that he was
in a meeting in Jacksonville, Illinois. He caught a plane to Jacksonville. 
He would have chartered one if he could not have found another way to make 
the
trip. When the superintendent came out of his meeting, Dr. Jernigan met him 
at the door. Dr. Jernigan learned that the man liked to drink beer. Sometime
later in the evening the matter was decided. In the spring of 1958 Dr. 
Jernigan accepted the directorship of the Iowa Commission for the Blind.

When Dr. Jernigan arrived in the state of Iowa in 1958, the Commission for 
the Blind was housed in three rooms of a condemned building that had once 
been
an elementary school. The entire annual budget for the Commission was 
$35,000. There were few programs and only a tiny number of staff members.

Within ten years the Iowa Commission for the Blind was recognized as the 
most effective program training blind people in the United States. In 1968 
Dr.
Jernigan received a Presidential citation from Lyndon Johnson. The executive 
director of the President's Committee on Employment of the Handicapped said
of his work at the Iowa Commission for the Blind, "If a person must be 
blind, it is better to be blind in Iowa than anywhere else in the nation or 
in the
world." At the time of this presentation the Commission for the Blind was 
housed in a seven-story building. It had an annual budget of several million
dollars and well over a hundred employees. Blind people in Iowa were 
becoming more productive than any other group of blind people ever before in 
history.
Dr. Jernigan's students became electrical engineers, farmers, insurance 
executives, factory workers, lawyers, and teachers.

The largest library for the blind in the world came into being under the 
directorship of Dr. Jernigan. At the School for the Blind in Tennessee he 
had learned
the value of reading. The Iowa program provided more books on more subjects 
to more blind people than any other library. In 1967 the American Library 
Association
honored this achievement by giving to Dr. Jernigan the Francis Joseph 
Campbell Award.

Dr. Jernigan became President of the National Federation of the Blind in 
1968, when Dr. tenBroek died. That year Dr. Jernigan was approached by 
senior officials
of the Democratic party in the state of Iowa and asked to run on the 
Democratic ticket for the office of State Treasurer. The same spring he was 
approached
by members of the Republican party and asked to run for statewide office on 
their ticket. The Convention of the Federation took place in Des Moines, and
Dr. Jernigan had a decision to make. He could not serve effectively as 
President of the National Federation of the Blind and engage in a demanding 
political
campaign with a political career as its objective. Dr. tenBroek had died in 
March, and Dr. Jernigan must either accept the obligations to serve the 
Federation
or seek political office. As we all know, he chose the Federation. However, 
we have speculated about what would have happened if he had taken the other
road.

It is almost certain that he would have won the race for State Treasurer. 
Two years later he would have run on the Democratic ticket for the office of 
Governor.
In that election there were major divisions in the Republican party, and the 
Republican candidate won by a very narrow margin. Dr. Jernigan's name 
recognition
in the state was better than almost anybody else's, and we believe he would 
have won. In 1972, two years after the gubernatorial election, he would 
probably
have run for the United States Senate. In that year the Republican 
Senatorial candidate was defeated by a weak and unknown opponent. It is 
quite probable
that Dr. Jernigan would have won. If he had become a member of the United 
States Senate, it is interesting to consider what this might have meant for 
the
blind of America. However, he chose to offer his talent, his commitment, and 
his energy to the National Federation of the Blind; and the result is 
evident
for all to observe.

Dr. Jernigan continued to be the full-time director of the Commission for 
the Blind, and he served as the full-time unpaid President of the 
Federation.
His very success in the state of Iowa made him a target for the envious. 
Blind people in other states said to rehabilitation officials, "If 
rehabilitation
can be successful in Iowa, why is it so bad where we live?" The answers 
rehabilitation officials gave were never satisfactory, and implicit in the 
question
is continuing conflict between programs for the blind and the individuals 
they were established to serve. Some of the less effective administrators of
programs for the blind resented the success in Iowa and refused to regard 
the blind as equal partners in the effort to achieve independence.

The Federation deliberately established itself as a watchdog over programs 
for the blind, and administrators who failed to measure up resented it. 
These
administrators paid blind workers less than the minimum wage, placed them in 
substandard working conditions, forced them to use broken equipment, and 
refused
to listen to the protests of blind employees. The confrontation was bitter 
and long-lasting.

The traditional attitude of a few administrators of programs for the blind 
was that they should be regarded as benevolent caretakers for the blind. 
They
thought of the blind who criticized them as ungrateful upstarts. Who were 
the members of the National Federation of the Blind to challenge their 
wisdom
and tell them how to operate their own agencies? However, we in the National 
Federation of the Blind are not prepared to abandon our brothers and 
sisters.
Dr. Jernigan, working through the Federation, organized the workers and 
taught them to insist upon the right to be treated with fairness in the 
workplace.
It was not the first time the Federation and certain officials of programs 
for the blind had met as adversaries, but as the success of the Federation 
and
of the Commission for the Blind in Iowa increased, the conflict also reached 
a crescendo. The Federation was having a greater impact than such officials
had believed was possible, and they were afraid.

As a result a small group of disgruntled individuals from service programs 
for the blind decided to attack the President of the Federation. These 
people
made contact with the United States attorney in Iowa, who wanted to become 
governor. She opened an investigation. A review of the documents which were
uncovered later under Freedom of Information Act requests demonstrates that 
the charges never had any basis beyond the would-be gubernatorial 
candidate's
effort to smear Dr. Jernigan to further her own election campaign. Those who 
had felt their positions threatened by Dr. Jernigan's forward-looking ideas
and programs were momentarily gleeful. But the members of the Federation, 
who knew our President and loved him, closed ranks behind him with never a 
doubt
about the outcome.

In the midst of this attack we in the National Federation of the Blind were 
in the process of achieving a cherished ambition; we acquired a building to
serve as the National Center for the Blind. This center began as a partially 
abandoned light manufacturing building with scaling brick; broken windows;
a leaky roof; and infestations of critters such as bats, pigeons, and 
smaller beasts. Dr. Jernigan looked at the structure and said it was just 
the place.
He showed us through and told us how it would be. "Here is the conference 
room," he said. "This is my office; here is the kitchen; and this will be 
for
accounting," he told us. At the time there were columns in the building to 
support the roof, but there were no walls and no furnishings of any kind. 
Despite
our misgivings we believed in the imagination of our President, and we were 
grateful for our new home and looking forward to the remodeling which would
give us the offices, conference rooms, and other facilities we needed.

During the first year that we occupied the Center, we heated it with a steam 
boiler that demanded 87,000 gallons of oil. By the next winter oil prices 
had
more than doubled, and we began to seek more efficient ways to keep warm. 
This required another round of remodeling, and we have been remodeling ever 
since.

At the end of 1997 Dr. Jernigan imagined at the National Center for the 
Blind a system of outdoor decks which was completed in July of 1998. This is 
the
last piece of remodeling that he himself examined. However, it is not the 
last he planned. Perhaps the most ambitious building project of Dr. 
Jernigan's
life is the structure we are planning, which will house meeting space, 
classrooms, parking facilities, and a research library on blindness and 
human rights.
The National Research and Training Institute for the Blind will be the only 
facility of its kind anywhere in the world. We plan to bring Dr. Jernigan's
architectural design into being within the first years of the twenty-first 
century.

The accelerated growth of the Federation through the 1980's and the 1990's 
demonstrates Dr. Jernigan's wisdom in designing this new facility. In the 
mid-1980's,
under Dr. Jernigan's leadership, we established training centers for the 
blind, modeled after the center established in Iowa. These centers in 
Louisiana,
Colorado, and Minnesota have changed expectations for the rehabilitation of 
blind clients in all parts of the United States.

In the 1990's Dr. Jernigan dreamed of a comprehensive center which would 
house all of the technological devices for the blind in existence. On the 
fiftieth
birthday of the National Federation of the Blind, the International Braille 
and Technology Center for the Blind came into being. With the new emphasis
on technology Dr. Jernigan imagined the NEWSLINE for the Blind® Network, 
which provides the text of more than twenty newspapers to blind individuals 
on
a daily basis.

However, the most profound effort of this brilliant man during the 1990's 
was the conception of the Kernel Books, small volumes containing firsthand 
accounts
by blind people of the experiences of their daily lives. These books tell in 
a simple and unpretentious manner how it is to be blind-and, more 
particularly,
how it is not. They describe the reality, the frustration, the dreams, the 
hopes, and the techniques used by the blind. They have helped to reshape the
thinking of the public at large about the reality of blindness, and in doing 
so, they have given greater opportunity.

At the end of the 1970's, the field of work with the blind was characterized 
by strife and confrontation. During the 1980's, as the National Center for
the Blind expanded and developed, patterns changed. Increasingly, officials 
of agencies and programs for the blind came to work more harmoniously with
the organized blind movement, and there existed an increasing recognition of 
the community of interest shared between the blind and programs to serve 
their
needs. In the final decade of his life, Dr. Jernigan devoted an increasingly 
substantial part of his time and energy toward welding the various entities
in the blindness field into a cohesive force for the advancement of the 
interests of blind people. The unity and harmony we have today is, in no 
small
way, a reflection of that work.

Dr. Jernigan predicted the change in emphasis in a speech delivered in 1973 
entitled "Blindness: Is History Against Us?" In part he said:

While no man can predict the future, I feel absolute confidence as to what 
the historians will say. They will tell of a system of governmental and 
private
agencies established to serve the blind, which became so custodial and so 
repressive that reaction was inevitable. They will tell that the blind 
("their
time come round at last") began to acquire a new self-image, along with 
rising expectations, and that they determined to organize and speak for 
themselves.
And they will tell of Jacobus tenBroek-of how he, a young college professor 
(blind and brilliant), stood forth to lead the movement.

They will tell how the agencies first tried to ignore us, then resented us, 
then feared us, and finally came to hate us-with the emotion and false logic
and cruel desperation which dying systems always feel toward the new, about 
to replace them.

They will tell of the growth of our movement through the '40's and '50's, 
and of our civil war. They will tell how we emerged from that civil war into 
the
'60's, stronger and more vital than we had ever been; and how more and more 
of the agencies began to make common cause with us for the betterment of the
blind.

They will also record the events of the 1970's when the reactionaries among 
the agencies became even more so, and the blind of the second generation of
the NFB stood forth to meet them. They will talk of how these 
agencies...tried to control all work with the blind, and our lives. They 
will tell how...the
reactionary agencies gradually lost ground and gave way before us. They will 
tell of new and better agencies rising to work in partnership with the 
blind,
and of harmony and progress as the century draws to an end. They will relate 
how the blind passed from second-class citizenship through a period of 
hostility
to equality and first-class status in society. But future historians will 
only record these events if we make them come true. They can help us be 
remembered,
but they cannot help us dream. That we must do for ourselves. They can give 
us acclaim, but not guts and courage. They can give us recognition and 
appreciation,
but not determination or compassion or good judgment. We must either find 
these things for ourselves or not have them at all.

That is what Dr. Jernigan said in 1973, and he reminded us of the 
predictions he made twenty-three years later at our 1996 convention in 
Anaheim, California,
just four years before the century would come to its close. He reflected 
upon the prediction of 1973 and speculated about the Federation in the years 
to
come.

As he said in 1996:

In broad terms the prediction has come true. The century draws to a close, 
and there is unprecedented harmony between agencies and organizations of and
for the blind. But what about the future? What will our situation be like 
when we meet twenty-three years from now in 2019?

By then the members of the first generation of the movement will most 
certainly be gone, and so will many of those of the second. Even the numbers 
of the
third generation will be thinning, and the fourth generation will be coming 
into dominance. And the fifth generation will be knocking at the door. The
Federation will be seventy-nine years old, approaching the end of its first 
century.

So what will the movement be like when we meet in 2019? The past five years 
have taught me that there will be undreamed-of surprises, for no one could 
possibly
have foreseen the two most important events of this decade-the establishment 
of the NEWSLINE® Network and the coming of the Kernel Books. But if I am not
sure of specifics, I am absolutely certain of the general direction our 
organization will take. Our mutual faith and trust in each other will be 
unchanged,
and all else will follow. I never come into the convention hall without a 
lift of spirit and a surge of joy, for I know to the depths of my being that
our shared bond of love and trust will never change and that because of it 
we will be unswervable in our determination and unstoppable in our progress.

As I said in 1973, we have come a long way together in this movement. Some 
of us are veterans, going back to the '40's; others are new recruits, fresh 
to
the ranks. Some are young; some are old. Some are educated, others not. It 
makes no difference. In everything that matters we are one; we are the 
movement;
we are the blind.

This is what Dr. Jernigan said in 1996, and it is as true today as it was 
then.

Through all the changes that have made the Federation what it is, one 
fundamental element has remained. Dr. tenBroek, as the founder of the 
movement, spoke
of the essence of the Federation. Dr. Jernigan, the organizer of blind 
Americans and the builder of our Federation, reiterated the theme. We of the 
National
Federation of the Blind reflect the dream that these great leaders have 
brought to us. We comprehend what must be done, and we rejoice in the 
challenges
ahead. We know of the need for joint action, for shared commitment, and for 
the willingness to work.

A monument is a way to remember. It is a record in writing, in stone, or in 
some other permanent form of a great event, a great convocation, or a great
man. But the traditional definition of a "monument" neglects a method of 
recording which we in the National Federation of the Blind can describe with 
intimacy.
Dr. Jernigan created a body of literature within the National Federation of 
the Blind which speaks of a way of thinking, a way of living, and a way of
being human. He constructed, from his own imagination, the National Center 
for the Blind, which has a massiveness, a beauty, a functionality, and a 
purpose
that are unmistakable. But he has not written only with Braille, with ink, 
and with other recorded characters. He has not written only with mortar, 
with
brick, and with stone. He has also written in the language of the spirit 
reflected in the human heart; he has written in the lives of us all. His 
monument
may be perceived in the way we think and the way we act.

When he came to the National Federation of the Blind, we were already a 
going concern. When he drew his last breath, the organization had achieved a 
level
of impact on the lives of the present generation and on the generations to 
come which was unpredictable and unimaginable. Our organization may change,
but our purpose will not. The incidents along the path of our lives may 
differ, but the direction is established and unwavering. The demands on our 
time,
our resources, and our imagination will be great, but Dr. Jernigan has given 
us the example to follow, and we will not turn back.

We will take a leaf from the book of the life he lived so well. Not only 
will we continue to do the work that he cherished, but we will teach others 
to
do the same. The complex spirit of the Federation which combines the 
characteristics of force and love, of generosity and determination, and of 
imaginative
dreams and demanding self-discipline will pass from this generation to the 
next and keep the movement alive. This is the legacy of the man. This is the
monument which will forever tell his story and reflect his life. It is 
written in the National Federation of the Blind.

Kenneth Jernigan, 71, Advocate for the Blind
by Richard Severo

>From the Editor: In the days following Dr. Jernigan's death newspapers 
across the country carried obituaries ranging in length from a few lines to 
many
paragraphs. The Baltimore Sun, the Washington Post, the Boston Globe, and 
the Los Angeles Times were only a few of the distinguished papers that 
carried
news of Dr. Jernigan's death. The following obituary appeared in the New 
York Times on October 14, 1998; it gives a good idea of what the press said.

Kenneth Jernigan, who was a forceful advocate for the blind in gaining 
access to jobs and to public places during his longtime leadership of the 
National
Federation of the Blind, died October 12 at his home in Baltimore. He was 
seventy-one.

The cause was lung cancer, said Barbara Pierce, Director of Public Education 
for the Federation and editor of its Braille Monitor magazine.

The current president of the Federation, Marc Maurer, said Jernigan "has 
reshaped thinking about the blind in this country, and his writings have 
been translated
into 100 languages."

Jernigan, who was blind at birth, started volunteering for the Federation, 
based in Baltimore, in 1951 and was President of the organization from 1968 
to
1986. During his unpaid tenure, the Federation, which was founded in 1940 by 
Jacobus tenBroek, became one of the nation's most influential advocacy 
organizations.

Jernigan was in the vanguard of a successful effort in the 1980's to 
persuade the State Department to revise its policy excluding unsighted 
people from
the diplomatic service. He was also instrumental in litigation that sought 
to stop what the Federation regarded as discriminatory practices among 
airlines
in the accommodation of the blind, one of which was that the airlines did 
not want them sitting in rows near emergency exits.

Jernigan appeared before a Senate subcommittee in 1989 and showed a video 
demonstrating that sighted and blind people could make an orderly evacuation 
of
aircraft with equal ease.

"The real problem of blindness is not the loss of eyesight," he said in 
1992. "The real problem is the misunderstanding and lack of information 
which exist.
If a blind person has proper training and opportunity, blindness can be 
reduced to the level of a physical nuisance."

Over the years he made it clear that he took exception to various statements 
he heard about blindness, which included the suggestion that true Christians
never lost their sight and that blind people were not equal to sighted 
people because of their "inability to see atoms." He called such statements 
"gibbering
insanity."

Above all he loathed expressions of pity for the blind, who, he maintained, 
did not want pity and were quite capable of taking care of themselves and 
competing
with sighted people in the job market.

Among his accomplishments was the creation of the NEWSLINE for the Blind® 
Network, in which the daily reports of the New York Times, the Washington 
Post,
and other major American newspapers are scanned and recited by a computer 
voice over telephone lines available to blind people all over the country.

Jernigan also created the International Braille and Technology Center in 
Baltimore, which researches and promotes technology to aid the blind and 
maintains
a job information bank for the blind that can be accessed by telephone.

In recognition of his work in creating the Newsline for the Blind® Network, 
Jernigan received the Winston Gordon Award for Technological Advancement in
the Field of Blindness and Visual Impairment this year from the Canadian 
National Institute for the Blind. Among his many other awards was a citation 
from
the American Library Association in 1967 that praised him for his efforts in 
making the contents of libraries available to the blind.

Kenneth Jernigan was born in Detroit on November 13, 1926. When he was quite 
young, his parents, Jesse and Novella Inez Trail Jernigan, moved near Beech
Grove, Tennessee, where they were farmers. Their son was educated at the 
Tennessee School for the Blind in Nashville. After high school he ran a 
furniture
store in Beech Grove for a time but then went on to college, earning his 
bachelor's degree from Tennessee Technological University in Cookeville, 
where
he majored in social sciences.

He originally wanted to be a lawyer, but his college counselor told him that 
without sight he should seek a more realistic goal. In that era many blind
people were shunted off into such jobs as piano tuning or teaching the 
blind. He decided to become a teacher and got his master's degree in English 
from
Peabody College in Nashville in 1949.

There he became active in the Tennessee chapter of the National Federation 
of the Blind. He then went to California and taught at the California 
Training
Center for the Blind in Oakland from 1953 to 1958. In 1958 he became 
Director of the Iowa Commission for the Blind, which he reorganized and 
strengthened.
He remained in that post until 1978, running the Federation as a volunteer 
at the same time. Then he moved on to Baltimore and became the paid 
Executive
Director of the American Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults, a sister 
organization of the National Federation of the Blind. He held that post from
1978 to 1989.

His other activities included work for the National Advisory Committee on 
Services for the Blind and Visually Handicapped; special consultant to the 
executive
director of the White House Conference on the Handicapped; and consultant to 
the Smithsonian Institution, advising on museum programs for blind visitors.

In retirement he continued to write essays and booklets, many of them of an 
inspirational nature, that were widely distributed to sightless people all 
over
the world.

Among Jernigan's survivors are his wife, the former Mary Ellen Osborn, who 
assisted him in his work for the Federation; a daughter from a previous 
marriage,
Marie Antoinette Jernigan Cobb of Baltimore; and three grandchildren.

The Jernigan Family Remembers
Mary Ellen Jernigan

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Kenneth and Mary Ellen Jernigan] [PHOTO DESCRIPTION Dr. 
Jernigan stands at rest, listening intently, with his right hand on the top 
of his
cane and his chin resting on his hand. His left hand holds onto the cane. 
CAPTION:

Mrs. Jernigan's favorite picture of Dr. Jernigan, 1985]

>From the Editor: During the memorial service Dr. Jernigan's wife Mary Ellen, 
his brother Lloyd, and his daughter Marie each spoke of the man they had 
known
and loved:

Mary Ellen Jernigan

In the months, the weeks, the days before his death, Dr. Jernigan and I 
talked of many things-one of which was that this gathering which has brought 
us
together today would soon occur and that this time it would be I not he 
standing before you at the microphone. So we talked about what to do. I made 
a
suggestion or two, which he vetoed. "Let others do that, or you do it later. 
What you must try to do on this day-what people will want you to do; what
I want you to do is to talk about me- me as you knew me." At the time it 
seemed a fairly simple directive. It seemed less so as I began to think 
about
carrying it out.

For I was not yet twenty-one when I first met Dr. Jernigan, and the whole of 
my adult life is his creation. My very first encounter came in the form of
a vibrant booming voice on the other end of a telephone line: "I understand 
you have just been initiated into Phi Beta Kappa. That tells me one of two
things- you've either got some brains, or you're very good at bluffing 
people into believing you do. If you've got the time and inclination to find 
out
which, I do." Well I had the time and inclination, and I was hooked. 
Thirty-three years have passed- years in which I had the good fortune to 
share in
a special way the life and work of this unusual man.

I will leave it to others to recite the facts and accomplishment of five 
decades of inspired service and leadership-to chronicle, to evaluate, to 
place
in historical perspective.

My task is something else, and I would frame it like this:

In the all too brief year that has passed since Dr. Jernigan's illness first 
became apparent, there has been an enormous outpouring of sentiment. It has
come from across this country and from abroad. It has come from blind 
people, yes. But it has come from an astonishingly large number of sighted 
people
also. And the message-sometimes expressed with supremely literate eloquence; 
sometimes with elegant simplicity; sometimes with halting difficulty-has 
been
essentially the same and very basic: this man made a real difference in my 
life; the world is a better place for his having lived in it. So what I have
been asking myself is why-why did this man have such a universally profound 
effect upon so many?

First I thought, Well, it's obvious. You look at how he lived. Next I 
thought, No! It's obvious. You look at how he died. And finally I said, 
Wait! It's
the same thing. It was when that thought crystallized that the answers began 
to come. When a man knows he has but a year to live, how he chooses to spend
that year tells you something. And if it happens that he chooses to spend 
that year as he spent the rest of his years, it tells you even more.

So let us look together at Dr. Jernigan's last year.

When we do, we see a man who spent his birthday, Christmas Eve, Christmas 
Day, and Valentine's Day in the hospital and made them joyous occasions for 
all;
a man who, having been told in the morning to expect to die within the year, 
spent the afternoon comforting and reassuring those around him; who on that
same day brought together the delegates of the North America/Caribbean 
Region of the World Blind Union by conference telephone to arrange an 
orderly transition
to a new President; and who later that same evening initiated a vast 
exploration of all possible alternative therapies-facing the future with 
hope and
belief and insisting that the rest of us do so also.

Over the next two weeks he assembled the collective leadership of the 
organized blind movement and began making far-ranging, long-term plans for 
the years
to come. Immediately he began a grueling regimen to fight the disease-facing 
with resolute discipline each day's conglomeration of needles, pills, 
vitamins,
supplements, intravenous tubing, breathing machines, detoxification 
procedures, and of course the ever-present nausea. He did what he had to do 
and took
care to shield others from knowing the physical agony of it all.

With the construction of three levels of magnificent sky decks, he brought 
to final completion the twenty-year-long transformation of a once 
dilapidated
South Baltimore factory building into the sparkling facility we now know as 
the National Center for the Blind and then startled us all with a bold new
vision to undertake the construction of the National Research and Training 
Institute for the Blind-a 175,000-square-foot, five-story building which 
will
position us to take full advantage of the opportunities which will abound in 
the coming millennium.

He summoned the strength to cause the first million dollars to be committed 
to the capital campaign and to oversee preparation of the detailed 
architectural
plan for the new facility. He commissioned construction of the 
three-dimensional model you will see on display today. He examined the model 
with his own
hands, making final adjustments to the plans as he did so.

He fought his way back from a nearly fatal bacterial infection, donned his 
tuxedo, selected and served to good friends the finest wines from his 
cellar,
and returned the next day for another round at the North Carolina clinic. He 
edited two final Kernel Books-volume number 14, Gray Pancakes and Gold 
Horses,
and volume 15, To Touch the Untouchable Dream.

Not wanting any part of our home ever to become inaccessible to him, he 
added an elevator, taking great delight in designing it to appear as if it 
had always
been part of the 154-year-old structure. Since he could now reach the roof 
by the new elevator, he built a deck there. And while he was at it, he 
revamped
the heating and air conditioning system and installed for me a 
restaurant-capacity stove complete with an indoor gas grill.

He added to his collections: wines, liqueurs, coins, music boxes, old time 
radio tapes, and most especially his carved onyx glasses. He negotiated and 
signed
contracts at first-class hotels for the year 2000 and 2001 National 
Conventions-keeping the single room rates still under $60.

He served as National Convention Chairman at his forty-seventh consecutive 
National Federation of the Blind convention- a convention he described as 
very
nearly perfect and during which he spoke to the Parents Seminar, the 
Scholarship Class, the Engineers Division, the Cultural Exchange and 
International
Program Committee, and the Resolutions Committee; roamed the Exhibit Hall; 
delivered a major address; gave an award at the Banquet; presented the audit
and financial reports; and was moved to tears by Lloyd Rasmussen's singing 
of the Technology Song.

He re-examined his relationship with God, a process which led us both to the 
Catholic Church, and more specifically to St. Joseph's Monastery Parish and
to Father Gregory Paul.

Then, with the fading of summer into early fall, came also the fading of any 
reasonable hope for survival. As the weakness and pain increased, he 
accepted
what was to come with dignity and grace and with the utmost care and concern 
for those around him, for the organization he had spent his life serving,
and for the broader field whose unity and advancement he had done so much to 
promote. He pulled forth reserves of strength to complete the things he 
wanted
to finish:

He saw to the final details of the construction project at our home, 
organizing a massive top-to-bottom, inside-and-out cleaning project, taking 
particular
delight in learning that the front steps, which had always been thought to 
be a nondescript, blackish stone, were really gleaming white marble 
underneath,
and insisting that they be shown off to all.

He visited with friends and colleagues who came to say good-bye, and as 
always he fed people-in our dining room, in our yard, on our roof, at the 
National
Center, at his favorite restaurants when he could manage the strength to go 
out and with carry-out from those same restaurants when he became unable to
leave home. He took enormous pleasure in serving his most prized wines and 
feeding his friends.

He hosted a twenty-fifth wedding anniversary celebration for Dr. and Mrs. 
Maurer though he himself was too weak to attend. He spent a last night at 
the
National Center for the Blind, conducted a seminar for leaders of the 
National Council of State Agencies for the Blind, and the next morning took 
one final
walk on the new Skydeck.

When, through a fluke in the medical system, he learned that the cancer had 
spread throughout his bones before his own physician received the report, he
found himself gently breaking the news to the doctor and offering 
consolation. Upon learning that the sculptor who had been commissioned to 
create a bronze
bust of him had (out of concern for his failing strength) been told he must 
work entirely from photographs, he insisted on dressing in full regalia and
sitting for him in person.

He sent Dr. Maurer and me to Atlanta to make preparations for next summer's 
convention, giving us detailed instructions as to what to do. He selected 
and
had wrapped the presents he wanted to give this Christmas. He called Ernie 
Imhoff to thank him for a beautifully perceptive article in the Baltimore 
Sun.

He inquired daily about the well-being of his kittens and gave instructions 
for their care. He moved both of our birthdays forward so as not to miss 
them.
He talked and planned with me and Dr. and Mrs. Maurer about what he hoped 
for David and Dianna in the years to come.

He spent large blocks of time with his brother Lloyd, with whom he shared an 
ever-stronger bond and for whose character, accomplishments, and integrity
he had a deep and abiding respect. He shared a last precious evening with 
his daughter Marie (Toinette as he always called her) and her husband Tony 
Cobb.

He had long, unhurried conversations with our President, Marc Maurer, in 
whom he had total, complete, and absolute trust; and in whose development 
and emergence
as the widely-respected leader of the organized blind movement he took an 
unremitting joy-believing to the very depth of his being that whatever part 
he
himself had played in that development and emergence was his own most 
cherished achievement.

He willed himself the strength to travel to the Canadian Embassy in 
Washington, D.C., to receive the Winston Gordon Award. There, in that 
beautiful setting,
surrounded by family, friends, and colleagues, he made what he knew and we 
all knew would be his last public appearance. Though weak and in visible 
pain,
he strode to the podium, where with a touch of humor, with elegance and 
simplicity, he spoke to us as he always did-of the brightness of the future.

This was Dr. Jernigan's last year. Do we find in it an answer? Why the great 
impact of this man? This man who had the supreme confidence and grace to die
exactly as he had lived?

Yes! I think we do. We find it in hope and belief, energy and intellect, 
planning and purpose, discipline and drudgery, care and compassion, loyalty 
and
love. But above all we find it in an infectious joy that took each and every 
moment of life and made of it a treasure to be shared with others.

To the question, "Do you miss him?" the answer is of course, excruciatingly 
so. Every minute. Every day. But the answer also is, how can I? He taught me
to think, and he is present in every thought I have. He taught me to love, 
and he is present in everything I love. Under God's guidance he formed and 
shaped
and molded the world I live in and those who live in it, and it and they are 
all around me-vibrant and alive-as is he in each of us and in the work he
left us to finish.

As for those treasured moments: here is one for us all to share. Near death, 
in a voice weak, but clear with conviction Dr. Jernigan said these things:

I have lived to see the plans for our new building far enough along to know 
that it will be done.

I have lived to see unity on our own terms in the blindness field in North 
America.

I have lived to see Marc Maurer come into the full maturity of leadership.

As I draw to the end, I don't feel I've left any loose ends.

I am content. I am at peace.

But what about us? Can we be at peace about this? Perhaps not all of the 
time and not just yet. But neither can we fail to carry forward the legacy 
he left
us-to live with joy, to make of life's moments treasures to be shared. He 
would expect us to do no less.

And so I close with the words of this American Indian verse-one the two of 
us read together and found of comfort:

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on the ripened grain.

I am the gentle Autumn's rain.

When you awaken in the morning hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled

flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry:

I am not there,

I did not die!

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Lloyd Jernigan confers with Dr. Jernigan at the head table.]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and his brother Lloyd stand in front of a bus 
at the Bear Creek barbecue in 1993.]

My Brother, My Friend
by Lloyd Jernigan

>From the Editor: Lloyd Jernigan was Dr. Jernigan's older brother. This is 
what he said at the memorial service:

First, I want to read two paragraphs from a letter that I received from Dr. 
Abraham Nemeth and his wife Edna. I received the letter shortly after 
returning
home from Kenneth's funeral, and I appreciate his kind words about my 
brother. These two paragraphs will explain a great deal about Kenneth's life 
and
his legacy. I now quote from Dr. Nemeth's letter:

"Now he belongs to the ages." These were the words uttered by Edwin 
McMasters Stanton, President Lincoln's Secretary of War, at the moment of 
Mr. Lincoln's
death. Dr. Jernigan will forever occupy a prominent place of honor, love, 
and respect in the history of the blindness movement. No one whose life in 
any
way touched that of Dr. Jernigan could fail to sense that he was in the 
presence of greatness. We are grateful and privileged to have had that 
experience.

We know that we cannot, nor are we required to, achieve all the goals that 
we have set for ourselves-having achieved one, there is always another in 
the
distance-but neither are we at liberty on that account to refrain from 
exerting the effort toward that achievement.

When we are momentarily disoriented and are required to assess the 
alternatives before us, we should pause, turn back, and take careful note of 
the direction
in which Dr. Jernigan is pointing. Then we should face forward again and 
follow that direction. He has always guided us along a path which has 
brought
us closer to our objectives.

Those three paragraphs bring us a great message from Dr. Nemeth. In Dallas 
during the past convention an NFB member from New Jersey said, "He taught us
how to be a family." The blind definitely have a better chance in life today 
than at any other time in history. Kenneth Jernigan also fought the battle
of prejudice through pity. Without the acceptance of sighted people, it is 
difficult for the blind to achieve their goals.

As youngsters Kenneth and I were raised on a farm in Tennessee. Several of 
the Kernel Books have articles about his life on the farm. Our parents and I
were afraid to let Kenneth out of our sight for fear that he would be 
injured. That action is what I now see as loving pity, which hinders the 
future independence
and ultimately a happy and successful life of a blind child. It took me many 
years to rid myself of that loving pity. I believe that one of the great 
obstacles
facing blind persons during Kenneth's youth, as well as today, was the lack 
of understanding of blindness by family members. My family truly believed 
that
because of his blindness Kenneth would lead a bleak helpless life, depending 
on others for survival. Thank God we were wrong.

All blind persons, present and future, will have a better chance to be 
independent and self-supporting because of our brother. He was not only my 
brother;
he also considered many of you his brothers and sisters.

Kenneth was a very serious person when it involved the NFB or other business 
activities, but he was also a fun person to be around. I am told by some of
his college associates that he was a typical, devilish, happy-go-lucky kid 
in college. Like the time at Tennessee Tech in Cookeville, Tennessee, when 
he
and some cronies were out one night much later than they were supposed to 
be. They decided to drive across the Dean's lawn, and the car mired down and
became stuck. I understand that the Dean was not very happy about the 
incident. When Kenneth lived in Iowa, he was appointed to the State Wine 
Board for
the purpose of purchasing wine for all state stores. I was invited to attend 
a meeting with him to a wine tasting in Des Moines. The location of the 
event
was three or four blocks from Kenneth's apartment. After tasting many 
different wines, we started walking home. Realizing that I was not feeling 
well,
Kenneth said, "My God, man, I can travel better than you, come on: I'll take 
you home."

I remember my first meeting with Dr. tenBroek, which took place in Detroit. 
I marveled at the mobility and independence displayed by him. He stood erect
and carried himself with dignity. After Dr. tenBroek's death Kenneth carried 
on the fight for the blind movement. I know that President Maurer and the
members of the National Federation of the Blind will continue the battle. My 
sister-in-law Mary Ellen is to be commended for her loyalty and support to
my brother. She stood by him until his last breath.

A great leader's work is never finished. We always say, "If he could have 
lasted just a little longer." If Kenneth were alive ten years from today, he 
would
have new projects going, and we would say, "If he could have lasted just a 
little longer." I believe that Kenneth lived a good, full life. He has 
helped
his fellow man; he has made a difference.

Kenneth Jernigan was a giant of a man, not in physical stature, but in 
achievements. Blind persons around the world, as well as their government 
leaders,
knew his name. Kenneth Jernigan-my brother, your teacher, our mentor-He will 
be missed.

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and daughter Marie.] [PHOTO DESCRIPTION: In 
this picture Dr. Jernigan is cutting a large sheet cake decorated with live 
roses
and baby's breath. CAPTION: Marie Cobb looks on as Dr. Jernigan cuts his 
seventieth birthday cake, which she and Mrs. Jernigan baked and Miss DePuew 
frosted.]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan prepares to fly a paper airplane from the 
convention platform during the lunch recess.]

Marie Antoinette Cobb

I consider most of the people in this room-and I say "most" because I'm not 
sure I know all of you-I consider most of the people in this room to be 
family.
In the Federation we are a family, and we greatly treasure and value that. 
And because we are family, I want to share with you some things that I will
always remember about my father that are really special to me. They are 
things that might not be special to anybody but me, but that's fine too. For 
example,
I'll always remember when we went to restaurants, especially certain ones, 
he would order one (or more) of every appetizer on the menu and pass them 
around
and discuss them. It was great fun, and the waiters and waitresses were 
usually in awe. He went in and sort of took over the restaurant-well, you 
guys
know how he was.

Then there was the litter of kittens that he adopted a few years ago. He 
adopted not only the entire litter but their parents as well. I have to tell 
you
that I was amazed because it hadn't been many weeks before that that he was 
making fun of me and teasing me mercilessly because he thought that Tony and
I had too many kittens. After that he had more than we did. I loved it.

He and I talked a lot of times about dying and funerals. He loved the old 
southern funerals. He used to tease me and say when I died he was going to 
have
people come by and say how natural I looked, and he was going to have them 
sing all the old mournful, sad songs. I would say, "No, no, no, Dad, they're
going to sing `That's Why the Lady Is a Tramp.'"

And he would say, "No! that is very inappropriate." We must have gone 
through that scenario about fifty times. Then he'd say he was going to put 
me in Lucite
and stand me up in the corner of the dining room. He always had fun when we 
talked about those things. They were just precious moments for me.

Then there's my cookbook collection. He and Mrs. Jernigan traveled a lot in 
the last few years, you know. No matter where they went, they somehow 
remembered
to bring me a cookbook from that place.

Dad loved silly songs. I taught him a few like "Do Your Ears Hang Low?" and 
"Have you Eever-Iver-Ever Seen a Meece-Mice-Mouse Chase a 
Keeten-Kiten-Kitten
Through the Heece-Hice-House?" That was his favorite.

There was the time that he and I went for a walk over to the Maurers' house 
back a few years ago when we had our big blizzard here in Baltimore. He got
a little more than annoyed with me because I pelted him with a couple of 
snowballs-he told me to "Cut that out!" But I didn't.

Then there was the day that he taught me how to use his chain saw and his 
wood saw. Now he didn't just do that to improve my education; he had a big 
stack
of wood he wanted me to cut up for him. And I did it joyfully because, I 
have to be honest with you, I was not sure I could.

The memory that is the most special and that I will always cherish the most 
was Christmas Eve of 1984. My children were all upstairs in bed-we were at 
Dad's
house-and he said, "Come on, let's go down to the basement. We went down to 
the room where he played those poker games and where he had a lot of his 
Braille
books housed. We sat down at the table, and he read me a Christmas story. It 
was one of the most wonderful Christmas stories-I never forgot that story.
It was about a very poor family that had almost nothing monetarily, but they 
were rich. They loved everyone; they were kind; they were generous. They 
were
the kind of people he wanted and helped each of us to become.

A few years later on Christmas Eve I said to him, "Dad, do you know what I 
want for Christmas? I want you to read me the story about the chocolate 
mouse."

He said, "What in the name of Heaven are you talking about?"

I said, "You know that story you read me a few years ago."

He said, "I don't remember a story about a chocolate mouse." We went down 
into the basement, and we looked until we found that book, and he read me 
that
story again. Later he read it to Mrs. Jernigan, and she liked it too. So he 
put it on tape for us.

Then there was the night when he gave me away in front of the fireplace in 
his living room twelve years ago, when Tony and I got married. That was a 
very
special night too. But he didn't let it get too heavy. Near the end of the 
evening, when we were getting ready to go, he said, "Get out of here; I've 
made
an honest woman out of you."

I also remember the things we shared and had in common- things like Bing 
Crosby's music, Zane Grey's books, literature of all kinds-I inherited his 
love
of books. I am forever grateful for that. Things like hoarding up things we 
especially loved like certain kinds of food or fifteen pairs of shoes-we 
both
actually did that once.

You can't ever tell about southerners, you know. They have to have certain 
kinds of food. He and I both especially enjoyed good southern food, 
especially
when it was well prepared. Along with rare steaks and music boxes and 
roaring fireplaces. The thing that I must never, ever forget is the tireless 
pursuit
of total equality for all people that my father really committed his whole 
life to. And I must never forget the times he pushed me to be more than I 
was
or to do more than I ever thought I could, and the time he spent working 
hard to help me and other blind people to have the rights and the 
opportunities
to do things that many of our forefathers never had.

To that end, Sir, in maybe a different way than it has been said here today, 
Dr. Maurer, I want to pledge publicly to you my loyalty and my support for
you. You are our leader, and you are a good one, and I am proud to call you 
our President. Dr. Maurer and Dad sometimes flew airplanes at National 
Conventions.
They sailed them off the platform, and it's a good thing that nobody ever 
got hit, I guess. But, Sir, I have a little book I'd like to present to you 
today.
It's all about paper airplanes. Next summer, when we are in Atlanta, fly one 
for Dad.

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. tenBroek (left) and Dr. Jernigan examine blueprints in 
1961.]

The Early Years

Federation Leader Appointed Director of Iowa Commission for the Blind
by Jacobus tenBroek

>From the Editor: Instructive as it may be to compile the
recollections and assessments of a man's life at its close, it is
also useful to look back to discover what his mentor and
colleagues thought of his accomplishments and abilities early in
his career. It is salutary and humbling to consider what might
have been said of us or what may be said of us at the age of
thirty-one. The year that Kenneth Jernigan turned thirty-two in
November, Jacobus tenBroek had occasion to write about him in the
pages of the Braille Monitor. His words were eloquent, admiring,
and indicative of the Federation leader Dr. Jernigan would
become. This is what he said

Last month Kenneth Jernigan, a member of the Board of Directors of the 
National Federation of the Blind, was appointed director of the Iowa 
Commission
for the Blind. This appointment was not only appropriate-it was significant.

In his new position Mr. Jernigan has charge of all Iowa programs for the 
blind with the exception of public assistance and the state school for the 
blind.
Among the services under his direction are vocational rehabilitation, 
vending stands, home industries, home teaching, the distribution of Talking 
Books,
and registration of blind persons in the state.

There are, of course, many Federationists who hold positions in state and 
other administrative agencies. Some of these are the directors of their 
agencies.
There are, in addition, numerous agency heads who are favorably disposed 
toward the organized blind. They did not go from the movement to their 
administrative
positions; they came to, or at least towards, the movement from an 
intelligent discharge of their administrative responsibilities. The 
distinctive factor
in the Jernigan appointment is that now a National Federation leader and 
member of its Board of Directors has been selected to serve as the head of a 
state
agency for the blind. Mr. Jernigan's appointment is indeed a tribute to the 
independent and enlightened judgment of the Iowa Commission.

There is a good deal of loose and self-adulatory talk among certain AAWB 
leaders about their professional status and an alleged lack of 
professionalism
among the organized blind. This talk may be examined from two sides: how 
professional are the agency leaders and workers; how unprofessional are the 
organized
blind. Whatever answer may be given to the first question, there are many in 
the organized blind movement whose knowledge about blindness and the 
substance
of administration of programs for the blind can only be described as 
professional. So too as to their attitudes; their caliber; their bearing; 
and, in
many cases, their careers and duties. In the present case Kenneth Jernigan 
has been a professional in all these senses of the term for many years. The
honor and the responsibility have especially fittingly gone to Kenneth 
Jernigan. Few readers of the Braille Monitor and fewer members of the 
Federation
need to be reminded of the character of this man and of the quality of his 
achievements. Since his entrance into the movement nearly a decade ago-and 
especially
since his election to the NFB Board of Directors in 1952--no one of us has 
labored more unstintingly or battled more courageously for the advancement 
of
our common cause.

To enumerate all of Kenneth's contributions would be to trespass upon space 
limitations. I might recount a few of the highlights of his career as a 
Federationist
leader. He is, first of all, the only member who has served on all the NFB's 
survey teams-those which canvassed the state programs for the blind of 
Colorado
and Arkansas in 1955 and of Nevada in 1956, at the request of their 
respective governors, and set in motion a chain reaction of liberalization 
and reform
whose effects will be felt for years to come. Kenneth was also the chairman 
of two of our most thoroughly successful National Conventions-those of 
Nashville
in 1952 and San Francisco in 1956. He has given selflessly of his time and 
inexhaustible energy to cross and recross the country in the interests of 
Federation
unity, harmony, and democracy-and has performed miracles of diplomacy and 
arbitration in situations which might best be described as those of 
peacemaking,
problem solving, and troubleshooting. More lastingly important than even 
this has been his consistent contribution to the over-all leadership, 
expansion,
and sustained course of the movement.

Much of Kenneth's most valuable activity on our behalf, indeed, has been 
carried on behind the scenes. It is not widely known, for example, that he 
is the
author of those indispensable guidebooks of our movement: "What Is the 
National Federation of the Blind?" and "Who Are the Blind Who Lead the 
Blind?" He
is, additionally, the author of many Federation documents that have gone 
unbylined. He has represented the NFB, informally as well as formally, at 
numerous
outside conventions and gatherings throughout the country. His speeches and 
reports on the floor of the National Convention, year in and year out, have
been both widely anticipated events and uniformly applauded successes.

One of these in particular requires special mention: his address before the 
1957 convention on "Programs for Local Chapters of the Federation." Few 
statements
have more correctly portrayed and deeply instilled the conception of the 
Federation- made up as it is of local clubs, state affiliates, conventions, 
officers,
and headquarters-as a single unified entity each part of which is the 
concern, responsibility, and local benefit of every individual member. By 
popular
demand this analysis has been Brailled, taped, mimeographed, and distributed 
to Federationists throughout the length and breadth of the land. His 1955
study, "Employment of the Blind in the Teaching Profession," carried out for 
the California affiliate of the Federation, has been eagerly and broadly 
applied
throughout the country in the increasingly successful campaign to break down 
the barriers to the hiring of blind teachers in the public schools. In fact,
there is scarcely any aspect of our national movement over the past 
half-dozen years which has not benefited from the alert counsel and untiring 
devotion
of time and talent which Ken has so willingly given.

I have said that his appointment to the directorship of the Iowa Commission 
is a tribute to the members of that enlightened agency. It is no less a 
tribute
to the membership of the Iowa Association of the Blind, under the able 
leadership of Dr. H. F. Schluntz of Keystone, Iowa.

But in the end, of course, the credit for the appointment must go mainly to 
Ken Jernigan. His objective qualifications include upwards of a decade of 
counseling,
administering, coordinating, teaching, and public relations, first with the 
School for the Blind in Nashville, Tennessee, and after 1953 with the 
Orientation
Center for the Adult Blind in Oakland, California. But to these formal 
qualifications must be added such vital statistics as the following:

Totally blind from birth, raised on a rural farm in Tennessee, and educated 
in the Nashville School for the Blind, Kenneth went on to take a bachelor's
degree in social science from the Tennessee Polytechnic Institute-graduating 
with the highest grades ever made by any student enrolled at the 
institution.
In addition he somehow found time to become president of the Speech 
Activities Club, president of the Social Science Club, member of Cabinet 
Tech Christian
Association, member of Pi Kappa Delta fraternity, winner of first prizes in 
Extemporaneous Speaking and Original Oratory at a Southeastern conference of
the fraternity; to get a poem published in a nationwide anthology of college 
poetry; and to be elected to Who's Who Among Students in Colleges and 
Universities
of America.

Following his graduation from Tennessee Polytechnic, Ken went on to take a 
master's degree in English from Peabody College in Nashville, plus an 
additional
year of graduate study. Once again he found enough time aside from his 
studies to head various societies and win a variety of awards, including the 
Capt.
Charles W. Browne Award in 1949.

I shall pass over lightly his brief career as a professional wrestler during 
the summer of 1945; his operation of a furniture shop the summer before, 
where
he built all the furniture and managed the entire business; and his two-year 
livelihood as an insurance salesman prior to joining the staff of the 
Tennessee
School for the Blind. But these diverse adventures and apprenticeships of 
his early career do serve graphically to illustrate Ken Jernigan's 
extraordinary
vitality of personality and equally extraordinary drive and determination.

This appointment poses a critical question and gives the proper answer to 
it. Will the NFB give orders to Jernigan the administrator; or, 
alternatively,
will Jernigan the administrator change his role in the Federation?

To pose this question at all presupposes some basic fallacies. It 
presupposes that the organized blind are on one side of the line; he and the 
agencies
are on the other. It presupposes that the function of the agencies is to 
rule and that of the blind to obey. It presupposes that the agencies are 
professional
and that the blind are unprofessional; that the agencies know what is best 
for the blind and the blind should accept it without question; that the 
agencies
are custodians and caretakers and the blind are wards and charitable 
beneficiaries; that the agencies are the interpreters of the blind to the 
sighted
community and the blind are incapable of speaking for themselves; that 
agencies exist because the blind are not full-fledged citizens with the 
right to
compete for a home, a job, and to discharge the privileges and 
responsibilities of citizenship. These are basic fallacies.

The basic truth is that there is no disharmony, conflict, or incompatibility 
between the two posts. The basic truth is that the blind are citizens, that
they are not wards, that they are capable of speaking for themselves, and 
that they should and must be integrated into the governmental processes 
which
evolve, structure, and administer programs bearing upon their welfare. The 
basic truth is that agencies administering these programs, committed to the
democratic view of clients as human beings and as citizens, and joining them 
in the full expression of their capabilities have a vital role to play.

There is thus no matter of choosing between two masters moving in different 
directions. The common object can best be achieved through a close 
collaboration
between the blind and the agencies serving them. The object cannot be 
achieved without that collaboration. Separate sources of authority, 
organizational
patterns, and particular responsibilities do not necessarily, and in this 
case do not properly, entail conflicting commitments. Jernigan the 
Federation
leader and Jernigan the administrator of programs in Iowa are therefore at 
one.

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Tony Mannino]

Profile of a Trailblazer
   by Anthony Mannino

>From the Editor: Tony Mannino, as he was known to his friends, was executive 
secretary of the American Brotherhood for the Blind in the 1960's. In 
February
of 1963 he wrote a sparkling profile of Kenneth Jernigan in the Blind 
American, the temporary successor to the Braille Monitor. It provides 
interesting
detail about Dr. Jernigan's early life. Here it is:

Late in 1962, at the Iowa state budget hearings held by the newly-elected 
governor, one agency head presented the reports and estimates of his 
department
so convincingly that on the following day his presentation was prominently 
featured by news reporters who had attended the hearings. The official who 
had
so impressed his listeners was Kenneth Jernigan, director of the Iowa 
Commission for the Blind, delivering the annual report and budget proposals 
of the
commission. The achievements and plans to which he had given such forceful 
expression were the climax of a concentrated effort in accomplishing the 
formidable
task accepted by this blind leader in the field of rehabilitation.

On May 6, 1958, a blind man was asked to assume direction of the programs 
for the blind of an entire state. After many years of efforts by the 
organized
blind to gain consultation and a voice in programs for the blind, it fell to 
Ken Jernigan to face the double test of proving his own ability as well as
the soundness of the philosophy of the organized blind with respect to 
rehabilitation and related services.

When Ken stepped into the job, Iowa was dead last in the nation in 
rehabilitation of the blind. Today it stands in the front ranks of the 
states in this
essential work-a leap forward accomplished in just four years under Ken's 
direction. His philosophy proclaims that the real problem of blindness is 
not
loss of eyesight but rather the misunderstanding and lack of information 
which accompany it. If a blind person has proper training and an opportunity 
to
make use of it, blindness for him is only a physical nuisance. On the basis 
of his firm belief in these guiding precepts, Jernigan has rapidly built a
state program geared to independence rather than dependency, to 
rehabilitation rather than resignation, and dedicated to the proposition 
that blind people
are inherently normal, potentially equal, and thoroughly competent to lead 
their own lives and make their own way in competitive society. And he has 
proved
his case with resounding success.

To understand the success of this bold program and the man responsible for 
it, we must go back a generation into the hills of Tennessee. The Jernigan 
family
had lived in Tennessee for years, but the time came in the 1920's when 
economic pressures drove many of the back-country farmers into the cities. 
Kenneth's
father was one of those who sought work in the factories in order to earn 
enough to return to his farm. He chose the automobile industry of Detroit, 
and
it was there Ken was born in 1926.

The new baby had scarcely been made comfortable in his crib when the family 
moved back to the farm in Tennessee. Somehow modern conveniences and 
motorized
farm machinery had not found their way to this edge of the Cumberland 
plateau, which was only fifty miles southeast of Nashville and almost 
completely
inhabited by Anglo-Saxon people. They still clung to their ancient culture 
and their more or less primitive dwellings. Even today the mule-drawn plow 
has
not entirely left the scene. Corn, hay, and milk were the chief agricultural 
products which gave this industrious folk their livelihood. Generation 
followed
generation in the same pattern of life and endeavor.

But little Kenneth was different from the other folk. He had been born 
blind. However, this did not seem to create any great problem or concern in 
the Jernigan
household. The child received a typical upbringing, and as he grew older, he 
assumed a few of the many chores which had to be done about the farm. Some
of the heavier tasks he shared with his older brother, but bringing in wood 
for the stove and fireplaces and stacking board-lumber, which his father had
shaped, were among his earliest prideful accomplishments. Playmates were 
few, besides his brother, but they all included Kenneth in their games. He 
recalls
that some of the games were modified a little so that he could join the fun.

In January, 1933, at six years of age, Kenneth was taken to Nashville to be 
enrolled at the Tennessee School for the Blind. It was like going into 
another
world suddenly faced with what seemed gigantic buildings, strange foods, 
mysterious steam heat, and electricity. Accustomed to getting up early, the 
youngster
wandered away from the sleeping quarters on the very first morning and 
proceeded to get utterly lost. Unable to find his way back to the dormitory, 
he
finally gave up and stretched out on the floor of one of the rooms he had 
wandered into to wait until someone found him. It was a miserable beginning 
for
a boy fresh from a comfortable home environment.

But Ken liked school and the world it opened up for his growing mind. Now he 
could read books, books, and more books, all by himself. In preschool years
he had always enjoyed having books read to him, and his first expressed 
desire at the school was to learn to read and write. He was not aware that 
it would
have to be in Braille, and his first efforts to cope with the strange system 
were discouraging. In spite of his intense eagerness for reading and 
writing,
Ken failed both of these subjects that first year. After that he never 
failed either of them again. Today he is one of the fastest Braille readers 
in the
country, and his love for books and reading burns as brightly as ever.

There is one phase of Ken's education at the T. S. B. which he now wishes 
might have been different or might not have been at all. That was the 
emphasis
placed on the study of music. From his own experience as well as his adult 
observation, he holds the firm opinion that musical training should not be 
imposed
upon students who show little interest or talent for it. But the tradition 
at the school in his day, as at most other schools for the blind even today,
demanded that every student be drilled in some form of music, whatever his 
lack of talent or interest.

Tradition must be served, and Ken found himself spending long hours of 
tedious study with the violin, beginning in the second grade. After three 
years he
graduated into the band with a trombone and yet was stuck with the violin 
for another two years. In the band he soon forsook the tailgate (trombone) 
in
favor of the alto horn, then (in desperate hope) the cornet, then the 
baritone horn, and finally a disastrous fling at the drums. He was quickly 
sent back
to the brass section on the assumption, apparently, that he might have 
little talent but possessed plenty of brass. At long last, recognizing his 
profound
lack of aptitude, Kenneth resigned from the band. As he recalls the event 
today, it was a great relief not only to him but also to B. P. Gap Rice, the
bandleader!

Meanwhile he had dropped the violin lessons and shifted to the piano. Here 
again the effort turned out to be a waste of time because he was more 
interested
in the mechanics of the piano than in its musical potential. When he 
resorted to taking the big instrument apart instead of playing it, the 
teacher was
truly convinced that Ken would never be a musician.

The world had lost another hornblower, but it gained a craftsman. In 1944, 
while still in high school, Ken started to make and sell furniture. Using 
the
money he earned on his father's farm during the summers, he bought tools and 
hardware. The logs were on the farm and at the sawmill nearby, so this was
a practical venture for an ambitious young man. He proceeded to manufacture 
tables, smoking-stands, and floor lamps of original design. But he dared not
attempt to do the staining and varnishing, because he had been led to 
believe that a blind person could not manage such delicate work. Only later 
did Ken
learn that he could indeed do this work himself and do it well.

This experience furnished further proof to Ken Jernigan that the blind 
individual must avoid the pitfalls of premature acceptance of realistic 
advice as
to the limitations of his abilities and capabilities. He firmly believes 
that orientation centers for the blind can render a most important service 
if
they will teach and practice the basic truth that, given the opportunity, 
the average blind person can hold the average job in the average business or
industry.

Young Mr. Jernigan graduated from high school in 1945 and immediately 
petitioned the state rehabilitation service for the chance to prepare 
himself for
a career in law. He was advised against it. That fall, after a rugged 
six-week bout with appendicitis, he matriculated at Tennessee Polytechnic 
Institute
in Cookeville. He did not find there all the encouragement he needed and 
hoped for; but the now strong and independent young man who had already 
taken
a whirl at professional wrestling was not to be talked into negative 
horizons or limited objectives. His hunger for knowledge was altogether too 
compelling
and his love of books too deep. His scholastic ability soon produced high 
grades, and the pattern of his college life was formed.

But it was not all study and lessons. Throwing himself into campus 
activities from the outset, Ken was soon elected to office in his class 
organization
and to important positions in other student clubs. The college debating team 
especially attracted his attention, and he took part in some twenty-five 
inter-collegiate
debates. He became president of the Speech Activities Club and a member of 
Pi Kappa Delta speech fraternity. In 1948, at the Southeastern Conference of
the Pi Kappa Delta competition held at the University of South Carolina, Ken 
won first prize in extemporaneous speaking and original oratory.

In his junior year he was nominated as one of two candidates for 
student-body president. He lost in a very close election, but the very next 
year regained
his political prestige by backing his roommate for a campus-wide office and 
winning. In his senior year at Tennessee Tech, he was named to the honored
list of Who's Who in Colleges and Universities.

During his undergraduate days Ken started a vending business by selling 
candy, cigarettes, and chewing-gum out of his room. Later on he purchased a 
vending
machine and, with permission gained from the college president, installed it 
in the science building. Before finishing college, he had expanded the 
business
to an impressive string of vending machines placed in other buildings. Upon 
graduation Ken sold this profitable business to a fellow student, an 
ambitious
sophomore named John Taylor, today the director of rehabilitation with the 
Iowa Commission for the Blind and a past President of the National 
Federation
of the Blind.

After receiving his B. A. in social science, with a minor in English, from 
T.P.I., Ken went directly for graduate work to the Peabody College for 
Teachers
in Nashville. There he majored in English and minored in history. This time 
his campus activities were centered upon the literary magazines. He 
accomplished
a great deal of writing of articles and editorials and became editor of a 
new literary publication. Meanwhile he received his Master of Arts degree in
the winter quarter of 1949 but remained to finish the school year with 
further studies.

The following fall young Jernigan returned to the Tennessee School for the 
Blind, this time as a teacher in the high school English department. The 
renewed
personal contact with blind students, their aspirations, and problems 
stirred his determination to give them counseling to the best of his ability 
and
toward bringing out the best of their abilities. Although he had achieved 
success with his own education, it was not in the field he really wanted to 
pursue.
He could not forget that before entering college his deep desire to become 
an attorney had been smashed as not feasible by a traditional-minded 
rehabilitation
officer. Ken discovered later-too late-that the rehabilitation man had been 
far from correct in his stand. Blind persons were then studying law, others
were already lawyers, and the field of law was not closed but wide open to 
trained blind individuals.

Ken vows today that he will never make this mistake in giving counsel to 
blind students. "We in rehabilitation have no right to make the choice for 
anybody
as to what his vocation should be when that person is eager and motivated to 
try in a field of his choice," he maintains.

After he had mastered the routines of teaching and settled into various 
school activities, Ken became interested in organizational work with the 
blind.
He joined the Nashville chapter of the then Tennessee Association for the 
Blind (which later became the Tennessee Federation of the Blind). He was 
elected
to the vice presidency of the state affiliate in 1950 and to the presidency 
in 1951. Though he was extremely busy, Ken found time for several courses at
summer school and later branched out into selling life insurance. This 
latter endeavor proved to be as profitable as teaching and soon became a 
rewarding
part-time job. Meanwhile, through his participation in organizations of the 
blind, Ken began to have his first contacts with national figures in the 
organized
blind movement. Outstanding among these was Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, founder 
and President of the National Federation of the Blind.

While Ken enjoyed teaching at the Tennessee School, he wanted to do more in 
this expanding field. In 1953 he left the school to accept a position at the
Oakland Orientation Center in California. His work, especially in counseling 
and guidance, became more intensified through the closer contact with 
persons
trying to regain their rightful place in society. His interest in the 
National Federation was also sharpened by the many projects undertaken for 
that organization.
One of the major projects in which he played an important role while in 
California was the campaign to gain recognition and the right to credentials 
for
blind teachers in that state. Stemming from this great initial effort, there 
are now almost fifty blind teachers employed in California through the 
teachings,
guidance, advice, and encouragement received from Kenneth Jernigan. When he 
left Oakland to accept the leadership of the Iowa Commission for the Blind,
the people who knew him were confident that he would fulfill that 
challenging assignment with outstanding success.

With the zest of a crusader, Ken plunged into the task of building up the 
Iowa programs for the blind. He found the commission housed in small and 
poorly
equipped quarters, with a budget of only twenty thousand dollars. The entire 
staff consisted of six people. It was in all respects a dismal picture and
a bleak prospect. But it did not remain so for long. Step by step, Ken 
skillfully planned and expanded the program, services, staff, and budget of 
the
Commission. He argued up and down the state and won growing support for his 
programs. Today the Commission is housed in a fully equipped six-story 
building,
serving more than four thousand blind Iowans. A budget of $400,000 is 
financing programs of rehabilitation, orientation, home teaching, home 
industries,
vending stands, Braille library, and many other related services. Each of 
these programs is characterized by the dynamic director.

In a way, with each year of experience in work for the blind, Ken gained as 
much as he gave. With each passing year he has become more convinced that 
blindness
need not serve as a hindrance in virtually any vocation. Admitting that 
sight is an advantage, he hastens to point out that there are numerous 
alternative
techniques which, learned and utilized properly, provide the blind person 
with the equalizer.

Kenneth Jernigan has worked for what he believes in, and his preachment has 
been practiced with driving energy. Speaking with firm conviction, he 
declares:
"If I were asked to sum up my philosophy of blindness in one sentence, I 
would say, `It is respectable to be blind.'" Few people would deny this in 
the
abstract; but when we analyze what they really believe, we find that most of 
them are at first ashamed of blindness.

This blind leader is convinced that the dominant attitudes of society toward 
blindness place unwarranted limitations upon the blind person. Since social
attitudes, unlike the physical fact of blindness, are open to change, he 
maintains that one of our principal functions should be to encourage proper 
attitudes
toward blindness and the blind. Adequate knowledge, understanding, and 
recognition of talents must be brought to supplant traditional 
preconceptions, prejudices,
and generalizations about the blind. From a climate of healthy social 
attitudes will emerge the opportunities and full rights of citizenship which 
should
be the birthright of the blind. And they, in turn, will then carry their 
full and proper share of the responsibility of free and independent citizens 
in
our democratic society.

Elected Officials Remember

>From the Editor: Dr. Jernigan understood and practiced the nuances of 
politics better than many who spend full time battling to get or keep 
elective office.
His personal political views he kept private, but in his public life he had 
one overriding principle which he used to determine the degree of his own 
and
the Federation's support for any public official: was he or she prepared to 
fight for the rights of blind people? If so, the NFB would make common cause
with the official; if not, the NFB had other fish to fry. It was the only 
sensible position for a broad and inclusive national organization of blind 
people
to take, and using the principle like a finely honed tool, Dr. Jernigan 
became a master at winning political allies and building consensus. Along 
the way
he made respectful friends and educated public servants about the abilities 
of blind people. A number of elected officials, including the mayor of 
Baltimore
and the governor of Maryland, paid tribute to Dr. Jernigan in the days 
following his death. Here are the texts of several of those letters and 
tributes:

President William Clinton
The White House Washington, D.C.
October 16, 1998

Mrs. Kenneth Jernigan
Baltimore, Maryland

Dear Mrs. Jernigan:

Hillary and I were deeply saddened to learn of your husband's death, and our 
hearts go out to you.

Kenneth Jernigan lived a life of great purpose and accomplishment. He was a 
strong and eloquent voice for blind people and worked throughout his life 
and
distinguished career to break down barriers of ignorance and discrimination. 
Under his leadership the National Federation of the Blind became one of our
nation's most effective advocates for the rights of the blind. Through his 
creation of the NEWSLINE for the Blind® Network, the International Braille 
and
Technology Center, and so many other innovative programs, he put the power 
of communications technology at the service of blind people, giving 
countless
Americans access to vital information and services.

Because of your husband's courage, creativity, and tenacious spirit, 
millions of blind people today live full, independent lives and make their 
own important
contributions to our society. No man could ask for a finer legacy.

Hillary and I are keeping you and your family in our thoughts and prayers.

Sincerely,

Bill Clinton

Congressional Record

Wednesday, October 14, 1998

Senate Section

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Senator Paul Sarbanes stands with Dr. and Mrs.
Jernigan at the Winston Gordon Award ceremony.]

Senator Paul Sarbanes|
Democrat of Maryland

A Tribute to Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, President Emeritus of the
National Federation of the Blind [page S-12572, 54 lines]

Mr. Sarbanes: Mr. President, today I rise to pay tribute to a man who has 
dedicated his life to improving opportunities for others. He is Dr. Kenneth 
Jernigan,
who served as President of the National Federation of the Blind from 1968 to 
1986 and as the Federation's President Emeritus until his death on October
12, 1998. In these capacities Dr. Jernigan has become widely recognized and 
highly respected as the principal leader of the organized blind movement in
the United States.

On September 14, 1998, Mr. President, I was privileged to attend an 
especially moving ceremony to recognize Dr. Jernigan for worldwide 
leadership in the
development of technology to assist blind people. The award, consisting of 
$15,000 Canadian and a two-ounce gold medallion, was given by the Canadian 
National
Institute for the Blind, and the event was held at the Canadian Embassy here 
in Washington.

This recognition by our neighbors to the north was a tangible expression, 
Mr. President, of the respect which Dr. Jernigan has earned throughout his 
lifetime
of service on behalf of blind people in the United States and around the 
world. Through his grit, determination, and skill Dr. Jernigan achieved 
personal
success. But more important than that, as a lifetime teacher and mentor he 
gave others the chance for success as well.

Born blind in 1926, Kenneth Jernigan grew up on a small Tennessee farm with 
little hope and little opportunity. But, Mr. President, in the story of 
Kenneth
Jernigan, from his humble beginning in the hills of Tennessee to his stature 
as a national--and even an international-leader, the story of what is right
with America is told.

Dr. Jernigan may have been blind in the physical sense, Mr. President, but 
he was a man of vision nonetheless. In his leadership of the National 
Federation
of the Blind, he taught all of us to understand that eyesight and insight 
are not related to each other in any way. Although he did not have eyesight,
his insight on life, learning, and leading has no equal.

Mr. President, for those who knew him and loved him, for the blind of this 
country and beyond, and for the National Federation of the Blind-the 
organization
that he loved and built-the world without Kenneth Jernigan will be 
difficult. But the world he has left in death is a far better world because 
of his life.

The legacy which Dr. Jernigan has left is shown in the hundreds of thousands 
of lives that he touched and the lives that will still be touched by his 
example
and the continuing power of his teaching. This will be the case for many 
generations to come. Mr. President, Kenneth Jernigan will be missed most by 
his
family and friends, but his loss will be shared by all of us because he 
cared for all of us. He cared enough to give of himself. With the strength 
of his
voice and the power of his intellect, he brought equality and freedom to the 
blind. As he did so, Mr. President, Kenneth Jernigan taught us all to love
one another and live with dignity. That is the real and lasting legacy of 
Kenneth Jernigan.

Mr. President, on September 24, 1998, an article entitled "Friends Pay 
Homage to Crusader for the Blind, Jernigan Still Working Despite Lung 
Cancer" appeared
in the Baltimore Sun. Because it presents a fitting tribute to Dr. 
Jernigan's life and work, I ask to insert the text of this article in the 
Record at
this point.

The article follows:

Friends Pay Homage to Crusader for the Blind, Jernigan Still Working Despite 
Lung Cancer
   by Ernest F. Imhoff

A steady stream of old friends-maybe 200 in the past months-have been 
visiting Kenneth Jernigan at his home in Irvington. Pals who followed the 
old fighter
for the blind as he tenaciously led fights for jobs, for access, for 
independent living, for Braille, and for civil rights have come to say thank 
you and
goodbye to a dying blind man they say expanded horizons for thousands of 
people. James Omvig, a sixty-three-year-old blind lawyer, and his sighted 
wife
Sharon flew from Tucson, Arizona, to visit with the President Emeritus of 
the National Federation of the Blind (NFB), who is in the latter stages of 
lung
cancer. "The wonderful life I've had is all due to Dr. Jernigan," Omvig 
said. In the 1950's he "was sitting around at home" in Iowa, after learning 
chair-caning,
until he met Jernigan and began studying Braille and other subjects. Omvig 
then graduated from college, got a law degree, became the first blind person
hired by the National Labor Relations Board, and later developed programs 
for the blind at Social Security in Baltimore, Alaska, and elsewhere.

One topic of conversation among the friends has been Jernigan's latest 
project, a proposed $12 million National Research and Training Institute for 
the
Blind for NFB headquarters in South Baltimore.

Last week Larry McKeever, of Des Moines, who is sighted and has recorded 
material for the 50,000-member Federation, came to chat and cook breakfast 
for
the Jernigans. Donald Capps, the blind leader of fifty-eight South Carolina 
NFB chapters, called to congratulate Jernigan on being honored recently at
the Canadian Embassy for his NEWSLINE® invention that enables the blind to 
hear daily newspapers. Floyd Matson, who is sighted and has worked with 
Jernigan
for fifty years, came from Honolulu to be with "my old poetry and drinking 
buddy."

A dramatic example of the high regard in which blind people hold Jernigan 
came during the annual convention of 2,500 NFB members in Dallas in July. A 
donor
contributed $5,000 to start a Kenneth Jernigan Fund to help blind people.

Quickly, state delegations caucused and announced their own donations. The 
result: pledges of $137,000 in his honor.

Jernigan, seventy-one, who was born blind and grew up on a Tennessee farm 
with no electricity, learned he had incurable lung cancer in November. In 
the
past ten months Jernigan has been almost as busy as ever. He has continued 
projects such as editing the latest in his large-type Kernel Book series of
inspirational books for the visually impaired. But his focus has been the 
proposed four-story institute, for which $1 million has been raised. It will
house the nerve center of an employment program; research and demonstration 
projects leading to jobs and independent living; technology training 
seminars;
access technology, such as applications for voting machines, airport kiosks 
and information systems; and Braille literacy initiatives to reverse a 50 
percent
illiteracy rate among visually impaired children.

In fighting for the blind, Jernigan has frequently been a controversial 
figure. Before he moved to Baltimore in 1978, the Iowa Commission for the 
Blind,
which he headed, was the subject of a conflict-of-interest investigation by 
a gubernatorial committee. In the end Governor Robert Ray felt the 
committee's
report vindicated the commission. The governor and the committee described 
the commission's program for the blind as "one of the best in the country."

There are good things in everything, even this illness," said his wife, Mary 
Ellen Jernigan. "You expect to hear from old friends. But in letters and 
calls,
we hear from hundreds of people we don't know."

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Congressman Robert Ehrlich and Dr. Jernigan]

Congressional Record, Wednesday, October 21, 1998

Extensions of Remarks Section

Tribute by Hon. Robert Ehrlich, Jr., Republican of Maryland

Honoring the Memory of Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, President Emeritus
of the National Federation of the Blind [page E-2268, 43 lines]
in the House of Representatives

Tuesday, October 20, 1998

MR. EHRLICH: Mr. Speaker, I rise to pay my respects to Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, 
who passed away on Monday, October 12, 1998, after a courageous fight with
cancer. I offer my warmest sympathies to his family, friends, and the 
National Federation of the Blind, the organization for which he served as 
one of
its principal leaders for more than forty-five years.

I have greatly admired and respected Kenneth Jernigan and the National 
Federation of the Blind since my days in the Maryland State Legislature as a 
state
delegate. With chapters in every state and almost every community, the 
Federation is the nation's oldest and largest organization of blind persons. 
Its
influence today serves as a reminder of the culmination of Kenneth 
Jernigan's lifetime work and commitment to improving the quality of life for 
the blind
throughout this nation and the world.

Occasionally, an issue is brought to my attention where I can seek a 
meaningful legislative remedy for a substantial number of people. Four years 
ago, with
the assistance of Dr. Jernigan and the Federation, I began to work with my 
colleagues in the House to reestablish the Social Security earnings-test 
link
between senior citizens and the blind. Dr. Jernigan emphasized to me how the 
de-linkage of this historic tie would have a negative impact to the 
self-esteem
of blind workers, preventing them from pursuing better employment 
opportunities. In his memory, I pledge to continue pushing for bipartisan 
legislation
to restore this important incentive.

Dr. Jernigan will be greatly missed. His selfless accomplishments on behalf 
of the blind and the sighted are immeasurable. Because of his example, many
of us will do the right thing by furthering his good work. It has been a 
great honor to have worked with such an influential and highly respected 
leader.

In conclusion, I would respectfully enter into the Record one of Dr. 
Jernigan's favorite sonnets, "Remember" by Christina Rossetti. [There 
followed the
text of the poem, which appears elsewhere in this issue.]

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan shakes hands with Congressman Elijah Cummings.]

Elijah Cummings
Member of Congress

>From the Editor: Congressman Cummings delivered the following remarks at the 
memorial service:

I welcome this opportunity to join Mary Ellen Jernigan and all of you as we 
remember and honor the life of a remarkable man. To Mrs. Jernigan, to 
Kenneth
Jernigan's daughter Marie, to his brother Lloyd, I have stopped by here to 
let you know that I miss Dr. Jernigan more than I can ever express. But I 
just
cannot be sad today. We come here today, not because he died, but because he 
lived. When I consider the six thousand days of Dr. Jernigan's life which
God allowed me to share, the memory that transcends all others is the 
continuing power of his friendship. That is why most of us are here today-to 
celebrate
his life. Coming together like this brings us closer to the man who became 
an important part of our lives, the man who adopted each of us into his 
extended
family of optimism, self-determination, and mutual respect. Kenneth Jernigan 
gave us the three most valuable gifts any person can give to another: he 
gave
us his friendship. He called upon us to pursue the best that is within us, 
to apply our abilities to a vision of inclusion. And President Jernigan put
us to work to help everyone see our shared humanity.

I cannot be sad today. I am convinced that Dr. Jernigan, my friend, is here 
with us in spirit. Dr. Jernigan, don't worry; we're still working hard to do
what is right. So I came here today to thank Dr. Jernigan and his wonderful 
wife Mary Ellen for everything they are giving to my life. Let me repeat 
what
I just said: "Thank you for what you are giving to my life." With his 
graduate degree in English, Dr. Jernigan, master teacher of the English 
language,
will appreciate my use of the present progressive tense. As long as we live, 
as long as the people we are able to help and touch live, Kenneth Jernigan
will be there with us. That is why I used the present progressive tense, the 
tense of becoming, to describe to you how I feel about Dr. Jernigan. Dr. 
Jernigan
continues to be my friend.

Dr. Kenneth Jernigan showed me in so many ways that he cared about me and 
about the person he knew I could become. Fifteen years before the people of 
Baltimore
sent me to the United States Congress, Dr. Jernigan predicted that I would 
become a member of Congress. That's amazing. I will never forget when he 
told
me that; I said: "He's out of his mind." Dr. Jernigan believed in me; he 
predicted a future that I myself had not seen. He believed before I 
believed.

When I think about my friend, I recall some words from a song by a Minnesota 
woman named Patricia McKernen. She said these simple words that are so 
profound:
"Like a river we must learn to be moved by the currents we cannot see." Dr. 
Jernigan had a sixth sense about things like that, the ability to see human
potential where the vision of others was blurred by stereotypes from the 
past. Dr. Jernigan was also a friend who thought about life in a clear and 
precise
way but always spoke from his heart. In all the years we worked together, he 
always spoke freely and honestly, sharing his vision of what we were 
supposed
to be doing, of the people we were meant to become.

Let me say this to all those who might have a sad heart today: a friend who 
is unafraid to touch our hearts may go away but will never depart. That is 
why
I know that Dr. Jernigan is here with us today. So I will repeat to Dr. 
Jernigan what I said earlier: my friend and brother, don't worry; we're 
still working
hard to do what is right. Thank you for the friendship and the help you gave 
us and the help you are giving us right now.

Dr. Jernigan also called upon us to achieve the very best that is within us. 
He taught us that we would gain society's respect only by stressing our 
abilities
and not our limitations. He taught us that we have to transform our vision 
of a better world into action. NFB President Marc Maurer was talking to a 
staff
member of mine about how fourteen years ago Dr. Jernigan called upon us all 
to come down to a fitness center in Laurel, Maryland-not too far from 
here-which
had refused to allow blind people to participate. They had slammed the door 
in his face, but he kept coming back with more and more people-you know that
was his way-never to be discouraged, holding a protest right there in front 
of the center. We were polite and determined, and before long the center and
Dr. Jernigan had reached what I would call a meeting of the minds.

President Maurer's story about integrating the fitness center reveals part 
of Dr. Jernigan's method of taking action, but only part. Dr. Jernigan's 
vision
is that we open doors to opportunity by opening people's minds. He 
understood what Gandhi understood: to accomplish any difficult task, we must 
speak to
people's hearts as well as their minds. Revealing who we are, our strengths 
as well as our limitations, our joys as well as our suffering, is what opens
the minds of others to a deeper understanding of our shared humanity. That 
is the second gift we owe to Dr. Jernigan. He helped people believe that 
each
of us has value, that our abilities are more important than our limitations, 
that we really can change people's hearts and minds.

Dr. Jernigan not only stressed the abilities we all can