Those prayers ended last week, when Jackson, spurred by a looming tabloid expose, confessed to the nation. “This is no time for evasions, denials or alibis,” he said in a written statement. The child, a girl now 20 months old, was conceived while the Baptist minister was counseling President Clinton following his affair with Monica Lewinsky.
For many, the Jackson story represents more than the private misstep of yet another public figure. The 59-year-old has long been hailed as the preeminent political and social voice of black America. The scandal, some fear, may damage the causes he represents. Many younger black activists see the matter as an overdue opportunity to broaden the stage for black leadership.
The story has fueled suspicions on all sides. Jackson detractors are raising questions about the source of financial support for the child’s mother, Karin Stanford, 39, former director of Rainbow/PUSH’s Washington office. Jackson gives Stanford $3,000 a month from personal funds. But questions remain over $35,000 that PUSH paid her when she moved to Los Angeles before the child’s birth in May 1999. The organization’s executive vice president, the Rev. James Meeks, says the sum was “severance pay” approved by PUSH’s board of directors. But Jackson spokesman John Scanlon told NEWSWEEK that Stanford continued to work for PUSH after the move as a “freelance consultant.” Stanford also works as a paid consultant for Yucaipa Cos., whose managing partner, Ronald Burkle, is a major Democratic contributor and a friend of Jackson’s who has funded Jackson initiatives.
Jackson supporters find suspect the timing of the National Enquirer story, which broke just before Jackson was to lead an Inauguration Day rally protesting the presidential vote. “This was a wag-the-dog hit,” said one religious activist. (Enquirer editors deny that the story’s timing was politically motivated.)
But many Jackson supporters are amazed that the story held as long as it did, calling it a well-known “secret” among America’s black elite. A subtle code of silence in the black community about airing the dirty laundry of its leaders squelched the gossip.
The story revealed fissures among activists. Some women accused Jackson of arrogant recklessness for offering moral counsel to Clinton. “He was a serious liability,” says one female activist. “We just wanted him to shut up and get out of the way.” Others complained that his dalliance compromised his ability to speak out on important issues like AIDS.
Some young community organizers openly lament the “Messiah” model of black leadership, and think Jackson’s stepping aside, even briefly, might open the doors to a wider range of progressive voices. “Why is it that the movement still rests on the shoulders of one man?” asks one Washington activist. Jackson’s time out of the pulpit will be brief. Last Thursday a forlorn Jackson announced he would take a break from public activities to “revive my spirit and reconnect with my family.” But by Friday, Jackson’s aides announced that he would appear at Sunday services in Chicago and then head to New York to lobby Wall Street firms to hire more minorities. His fall from grace may be short-lived, but the questions it raises in the community will linger.
