Jesse Running

Reverend Jesse Jackson and Lieutenant Robert Goodman flew from Damascus to Frankfurt, West Germany, on January 3, and from there to Andrews Air Force Base the next day. The second-guessing and the instant-replaying began almost immediately: Since the Syrians gave Goodman up, it could only have been because they had nothing to gain by keeping him, and nothing to lose by letting him, go, particularly to a black, pro-Arab Democratic presidential candidate (Take that, Reagan!) playing off his own bat. . . . But Wednesday the fourth was Jackson’s day. He spoke at an evening rally in the Shiloh Baptist Church in rundown black Washington.

Rally or service? The pillars that supported the gallery were festooned with red and silver foil, presumably left over from Christmas. A red and green banner, “Tithe for God,” hung over the pulpit. There was a standingroom-only congregation, maybe six hundred people, all but a dozen of them black, and all dressed to the nines. The older women and Queen Elizabeth use the same hatmaker (Quentin Crisp thinks those kinds of hats wait on the top shelves of closets and leap out onto unsuspecting heads below). With a bounce, a grand piano cued the green-robed choir, which strode swayingly down the side aisles, singing, “He has done great things for me, I’m gonna be a witness for Him.” (Jesus or Jesse?)

About the Author

Richard Brookhiser

Historian Richard Brookhiser is a senior editor of National Review and a senior fellow at the National Review Institute.

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Reverend Jesse Jackson and Lieutenant Robert Goodman flew from Damascus to Frankfurt, West Germany, on January 3, and from there to Andrews Air Force Base the next day. The second-guessing and the instant-replaying began almost immediately: Since the Syrians gave Goodman up, it could only have been because they had nothing to gain by keeping him, and nothing to lose by letting him, go, particularly to a black, pro-Arab Democratic presidential candidate (Take that, Reagan!) playing off his own bat. . . . But Wednesday the fourth was Jackson’s day. He spoke at an evening rally in the Shiloh Baptist Church in rundown black Washington.

Rally or service? The pillars that supported the gallery were festooned with red and silver foil, presumably left over from Christmas. A red and green banner, “Tithe for God,” hung over the pulpit. There was a standingroom-only congregation, maybe six hundred people, all but a dozen of them black, and all dressed to the nines. The older women and Queen Elizabeth use the same hatmaker (Quentin Crisp thinks those kinds of hats wait on the top shelves of closets and leap out onto unsuspecting heads below). With a bounce, a grand piano cued the green-robed choir, which strode swayingly down the side aisles, singing, “He has done great things for me, I’m gonna be a witness for Him.” (Jesus or Jesse?)