                       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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                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

In Memoriam

Eulogy
     by Marc Maurer

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
     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 Dyer
     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

       Copyright(C) 1999 National Federation of the Blind




[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(R), 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(R)" 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(R) 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(R) 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(R) 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(R) 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
                           **********
[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(R) 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(R) 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
develop if given the opportunity; he taught us that we have both
the right and the obligation to apply our beliefs to a vision of
humanity greater than ourselves. The mission of the National
Federation of the Blind is not only to advance the abilities and
rights of people whose sight is impaired, but Dr. Jernigan taught
us that the NFB's mission is to advance the abilities and rights
of all people. Dr. Jernigan was not simply an advocate for the
blind; Kenneth Jernigan was a human rights advocate. He
understood and he helped millions of other Americans to
understand how much better all our lives will be when we become a
country of opportunity for all, not just a few. Dr. Jernigan
would not accept the idea that there should be one America for
others and a second America for the blind.

     That is why I think that Dr. Jernigan's third gift to us and
to the world is our shared calling, the gift of sight. He helped
us to see better that we must be one America. He helped us to see
better that we must be a nation that gives opportunity to all of
our people. He helped us to see better that we all have
abilities. He helped us to see that everyone wants and needs to
contribute to our shared community. We must never forget that the
important work being done by the National Center for the Blind, a
few blocks from here in South Baltimore, is the historic work of
America. The NFB's efforts are not limited to helping sight-
impaired people cope with their limitation. Those efforts are
important, but the larger mission of the National Center for the
Blind is to help all America see. The NFB is about the business
of showing the world that every person has value.

     In conclusion, I stopped by simply to thank Dr. Jernigan for
all that he has given to us. For he has not gone; he has merely
left for a few moments. He lives in the hearts of every single
one of us and in people we do not even know. Let me leave you
with the words of a song that my mother loves and sings all the
time:
                           **********
When peace like a river attendeth my way,
When storm clouds like sea billows roll,
Whatever my plight, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
                           **********
I am sure that Dr. Jernigan is looking down on us, saying those
words over and over and over again. "It is well, it is well with
my soul." May God bless you, and may God bless America.
                           **********
                           **********
                 Public Officials Assess the Man
                           **********
                        Suzanne Mitchell
                           **********
     From the Editor: Suzanne Mitchell is a long-time
Federationist and the director of the state agency serving blind
people in Louisiana. This month she begins serving a term as
President of the National Council of State Agencies for the Blind
(NCSAB), the professional organization of state agency directors
in the blindness field.
                           **********
     In April of 1998 the National Council of State Agencies for
the Blind presented its first Lifetime Achievement Award to Dr.
Kenneth Jernigan. Upon receiving notification of this honor, Dr.
Jernigan wrote to Jamie Hilton, then President of NCSAB, and
said: "The state agencies are front-line soldiers in the battle
to bring first-class citizenship to the blind, and recognition
from their national organization is heartwarming. Present-day
reality is that agencies doing work with the blind and the
organized blind movement have mutual interests and that there
cannot be an adversarial relationship. Any of us who fail to
recognize this truth hurt both the agencies and the blind they
were established to serve. Whatever the situation may have been
in bygone days, these are now the facts of life; and past
grudges, long-time hatreds, and traditional squabbles must be put
behind us. No, they must not be put behind us but totally
forgotten in the interest of harmony and joint effort. That is my
thinking; that is the thinking of the National Federation of the
Blind; and that is also the thinking of all sensible people in
the blindness field."

     The honor bestowed upon Dr. Jernigan by NCSAB touched him
profoundly. He expressed that many times in the last weeks of his
life. To him, to all Federationists, and to the body of state
directors in NCSAB, this recognition symbolized an historic
moment and the arrival of a new day of cooperative partnership
and thinking among the organized blind and the agencies. The
remarks Dr. Jernigan made upon accepting the Lifetime Achievement
Award speak simply and eloquently of the truths which guide our
movement and our purpose in the blindness field. He said, "There
is great strength in collective action. Great opportunity comes
by working together toward common goals, but most of all great
satisfaction comes from knowing that together we have done our
individual and collective best to move blind people closer to the
day when they will have the encouragement, training, and self-
respect to live normal lives as normal people."

     As I begin my term this January as president of the National
Council of State Agencies for the Blind, Dr. Jernigan's words
will offer me and my colleagues the same wisdom and guidance that
so many of his teachings and words of counsel have done over the
years. Two simple truths offered by Dr. Jernigan have proven
valid time and time again. The first is "The test of a thing is
if it works." The second is "If it can, it will." The National
Federation of the Blind has been tested--and it works. And the
development of harmony among public rehabilitation agencies and
the blind has moved from "can" happen to "will" happen.

     The poet William Blake once wrote, "If a thing loves, it is
infinite." We all felt the love, compassion, and devotion of Dr.
Jernigan and indeed, through his love, he will remain infinite in
our hearts and in our movement. Through his continuing spirit,
which abides in all of us, he will bring hope, a sense of
destiny, and daily renewal as we continue to carry on his
important work. Together we are changing what it means to be
blind.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Frank Kurt Cylke]
                        Frank Kurt Cylke
                           **********
     From the Editor: Frank Kurt Cylke is the Director of the
National Library Service for the Blind and Physically Handicapped
of the Library of Congress. These are the remarks he delivered at
the memorial service:
                           **********
                        Kenneth Jernigan
               God saw you were getting tired,
                    And a cure was not to be,
               So he put his arms around you
                    And whispered, "Come to me."
               With tearful eyes we watched you,
                    And saw you pass away.
               Although we loved you dearly,
                    We could not make you stay.
               A golden heart stopped beating,
                    Hard-working hands at rest.
               God broke our hearts to prove to us,
                    He only takes the best.
                           **********
     Only once in a generation, perhaps only once in a lifetime,
does an individual enter into our sphere with power and drive to
change humankind for the best. We are all fortunate that Kenneth
Jernigan was with us for the time that he had here on earth. An
intellectual, an educator; a leader; a guider; an administrator;
and, yes, a book man. While Kenneth Jernigan held no library
degree and indeed never served as a librarian, he may be
considered the librarian of all times--for blind and physically
handicapped individuals. Under his direction, the State of Iowa
built a magnificent library with a superb collection and
outstanding service pattern. As President of Friends of Libraries
for Blind and Physically Handicapped Individuals in North
America, Kenneth Jernigan advised and consulted with the National
Library Service and other library and information services in the
United States as well as in other countries.

     Kenneth Jernigan loved books, Kenneth Jernigan wrote books,
Kenneth Jernigan edited books, Kenneth Jernigan published books,
Kenneth Jernigan recommended books, and Kenneth Jernigan
distributed books. Not once, to my knowledge, did he ever suggest
removing or not adding an item from any collection. He believed
only in building the store of materials available to the blind
and physically handicapped community.

     Kenneth Jernigan believed that knowledge would set the blind
free. It has and will continue to do so.
                           **********
               God saw you were getting tired,
                    And a cure was not to be,
               So he put his arms around you
                    And whispered, "Come to me."
               With tearful eyes we watched you,
                    And saw you pass away.
               Although we loved you dearly,
                    We could not make you stay.
               A golden heart stopped beating,
                    Hard-working hands at rest.
               God broke our hearts to prove to us,
                    He only takes the best.
                           **********
In closing, I can only say--Kenneth Jernigan, we will meet
again...some sunny day....
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO DESCRIPTION: Dr. Jernigan is about to turn steaks on a
large outdoor grill. Fred Schroeder is standing on the other side
of the flaming grill. CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan tends the grill
outside the Jernigan home while Fred Schroeder looks on.]
                   Fredric K. Schroeder, Ph.D.
                           **********
     From the Editor: Dr. Schroeder serves as Commissioner of the
Rehabilitation Services Administration, U.S. Department of
Education. He delivered the following remarks at the memorial
service.
                           **********
     In 1920 the Smith-Fess Act created the Vocational
Rehabilitation program in the United States. It began with a
small budget and was initially limited to providing counseling,
training, prostheses, and placement services to people with
physical disabilities. From the years 1920 to 1943 the
rehabilitation program provided little in the way of employment
services for the blind. During that period federal policy
categorized blind people as having "no rehabilitation potential";
therefore, state rehabilitation agencies were not obliged to
assist blind people at all.

     In the early days of the rehabilitation program only a small
number of blind people benefited from rehabilitation services. In
the years 1935 to 1943 only 1,779 blind people (or fewer
than 4.5 blind people per state per year) were assisted in
finding work by state rehabilitation agencies. The prevalent
belief was that the blind could work in only a limited number of
occupations, such as broom or basket making, rug weaving, or
chair caning. Occasionally a blind person was selected for piano
tuning and, in rare instances, assisted in pursuing a
professional career in music.

     During that period Congress passed two pieces of legislation
to assist blind people in securing at least some work. In 1936
the Randolph-Sheppard Act was adopted. It allowed blind people to
operate vending stands on federal property. This provided blind
people the opportunity to sell items such as cigarettes, packaged
foods, and newspapers and periodicals in government buildings. In
1938 the Wagner-O'Day Act made it mandatory for the federal
government to purchase specified products made in sheltered
workshops for the blind. These two programs constituted most of
what was available in the way of employment opportunities for
blind people at that time.

     That was the condition for blind people when Kenneth
Jernigan was growing up--little hope for much of an education;
little hope for employment beyond the sheltered workshop; and
virtually no hope for a life of dignity and self-respect. He grew
up in a world and at a time when little, if anything, was
expected of blind people and when it was assumed that blind
people would require the care of their families for all of their
lives.

     Today opportunities for blind people are much different. Yet
can it be said that Dr. Jernigan has been responsible for this
change? Indeed the answer is yes. His life and work changed the
face of vocational rehabilitation in America. He forever expanded
opportunities and hope for an entire class of people, in large
part because of his unwillingness to live as others expected.

     In 1949 he went to work teaching English at the Tennessee
School for the Blind. Whatever the quality that allowed him to
challenge society's assumptions about blindness, including the
assumptions of the professional rehabilitation system, he shared
his belief in blind people with others. He worked to instill in
his students a belief in themselves and a belief in their
potential. He taught by stimulating their intellect and by
demanding excellence. He taught by example and through his
incomparable powers of persuasion.

     That same year he found the National Federation of the
Blind, or perhaps it could be said that the Federation found him.
His innate belief in the fundamental equality of blind people was
the ideal complement to the philosophy of Dr. Jacobus tenBroek
and the relatively young organization he had founded.

     In 1953 Dr. Jernigan moved to California to work with the
newly established Adult Orientation and Adjustment Center. It
might be said that this was his first step into the field of
rehabilitation, but it was by no means his first step into the
work of helping blind people acquire the skills they needed to
break free from poverty and isolation. It shortly became clear to
Dr. Jernigan and Dr. tenBroek that, if they were to be successful
in changing opportunities for blind people and, in particular,
employment opportunities, they needed to inject Federation
philosophy into the work of an entire state rehabilitation
agency. In 1958, at the age of thirty-one, Dr. Jernigan left
California to assume the position of director of the Iowa
Commission for the Blind.

     In his professional life Dr. Jernigan forever changed the
face of vocational rehabilitation in America. He developed a
program of rehabilitation for blind people that endures today as
the model for effective adjustment training. Yet to view Dr.
Jernigan's accomplishments as purely professional is to
underestimate the man and his life.

     Dr. Jernigan believed in blind people. Of course others have
and do, but Dr. Jernigan believed in blind people in a way that
was truly unique. He meant it when he said that he believed that
blind people are simply normal people with the same range of
talents and abilities as others. He meant it when he spoke about
the right of blind people to live normal lives as normal people,
and he meant it when he spoke of the right of blind people to
have opportunities free from discrimination.

     He believed in us, and he showed us how we could begin the
journey toward first-class status. He taught us the importance of
collective action. He taught us that each time we work to open
new opportunities, each time we stand together to battle
discrimination, we expand opportunities for all blind people
while strengthening our own belief in our individual ability to
live as normal people. Said another way, he taught us that blind
people need to band together in support of a common belief
predicated on the right of blind people to live full and
productive lives with dignity and self-respect.

     I am one of the countless blind people whose lives have been
changed by Dr. Jernigan. Sometimes I say that my life has been
changed by the National Federation of the Blind, and of course
that is true. But the Federation is, in some respects, an
abstraction, a philosophy, a set of beliefs; Dr. Jernigan was the
manifestation of Federationism. To say the Federation changed my
life is to say Dr. Jernigan changed my life, and to say Dr.
Jernigan changed my life is to say the Federation changed my
life. They are truly the same. Sometimes that change was made
more gently than at other times. I remember speaking to him about
an idea I had about a change in career direction. After listening
patiently, he finally said that it was the most chuckle-headed
idea he had ever heard.

     While Dr. Jernigan knew that belief in ourselves was the
foundation, he also knew that confidence alone could not bring us
full equality. He recognized that we, as blind people, must have
the skills necessary to function competitively in a competitive
and demanding world. To work competitively alongside the sighted,
we needed to be able to travel independently, read and write
Braille, and care for our daily needs. These skills became the
core of the Iowa Orientation Program--skills coupled with his
unfailing belief in blind people.

     Many of you knew Dr. Jernigan during his time in Iowa. There
are many things that might be said about the Iowa program and
what made it work. But the things that made the Iowa program work
are the same things Dr. Jernigan did with each of us. He told us
that we were important when we did not feel important. He told us
that he needed our help and that other blind people needed our
help. At the Iowa Commission he would hold luncheons and
receptions for legislators and others, and he would have the
students in the orientation program prepare and serve the meal.
He made them a part of the success of the program, and, by so
doing, he took people who had never before been needed and
convinced them that the very future of programs for the blind in
Iowa and the nation depended on them.

     I can remember visiting Dr. Jernigan in his home, where he
would always have something for me to help do. As a blind child
growing up, I do not remember being needed much at all, but Dr.
Jernigan always seemed to need me, and for that I will always be
grateful. But this was not just some kind of psychological trick;
it goes to the very heart of Federation philosophy, the
understanding that our efforts, when organized around common
goals, elevate us individually as well as collectively.

     Dr. Jernigan's entire life was one of building. He developed
model training programs for the blind. He founded the National
Center for the Blind, the finest facility of its type in the
world. He established the International Braille and Technology
Center, bringing together all known Braille and speech technology
from throughout the world. He created NEWSLINE(R) and later
Jobline(R). And he built unprecedented harmony and cooperation in
the blindness field.

     He led the struggle for civil rights--from the-right-to-
organize legislation to union organizing of sheltered-workshop
workers. He led the battle for education--from Braille bills in
the individual states to a federal presumption of Braille for
blind children. He battled discrimination--from the court room to
the statehouse. He built many things, but his legacy is not
simply one of past accomplishments. He left us the foundation and
the tools we need to continue the work.

     His life was one of building, but not just for the present.
His life was one of building according to today's need and with
tomorrow's needs clearly in mind, and that long-term perspective
he instilled in us is his true legacy. He left us with pride for
what we have accomplished, and he left us with the resolve to
accomplish still more. He left in place a system of democracy--a
system of self-government rooted in self-determination. And he
left us a system for supporting and strengthening today's leaders
and a system for finding and developing the next generation of
leaders and generations beyond them.

     And, above all, he left us with a leader, a man like himself
and not like himself, a leader who can and will continue the work
Dr. Jernigan began, yet a man who has his own combination of
strengths and priorities, perspectives and abilities, a leader,
unique unto himself; and yet a man who, like Dr. Jernigan, is
committed to and driven by the belief that one day we will fully
emerge from isolation and exclusion and stand with the sighted as
equals.

     As I look at all that we have built and at all that remains
to be done, I can think of no one more capable, no one more
committed, no one more worthy of our trust and confidence than
Marc Maurer. Dr. Maurer has earned our trust as he earned Dr.
Jernigan's trust. He is a man of great ability, of great energy,
and a man of great integrity and commitment. Perhaps most
important, he is a man of great compassion, a man who cares
deeply for all blind people and who is willing to give all that
he has to continue the work. I am proud to know Dr. Maurer and to
call him a friend. I am proud, as I know you are, to look to him
as the leader who will take us well into the next century, and I
know that Dr. Jernigan is proud of him too.
                           **********
                           **********
                  Voices from Around the World
                           **********
     From the Editor: Word of Dr. Jernigan's death went out
within hours, and almost immediately tributes from many countries
began to appear on NFB listservs, by fax, and in the mail. Here
is a sampling of the sentiments:
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Dr. Euclid Herie]
    Reflections on the Life of A Valued Friend and Colleague
                       by Euclid J. Herie
                           **********
     From the Editor: Dr. Herie is President of the World Blind
Union and President and CEO of the Canadian National Institute
for the Blind.
                           **********
     How does one measure the impact and influence of the life of
Kenneth Jernigan? A twentieth-century Renaissance man for blind
people across the United States and throughout the world, Dr.
Jernigan was a man of letters and superior intellect. From the
barricades to the board room he fought for inclusion of blind
people in education, employment, culture, and society. He
established the belief that with a proper attitude and
appropriate training the condition of blindness can be reduced to
that of a mere nuisance.

     Blind since birth, Dr. Jernigan grew up in the hills of
Tennessee. He graduated from university at a time when few blind
persons were encouraged to pursue higher education.

     Kenneth Jernigan, a writer, philosopher and teacher, was
unequalled as an internationally renowned speaker. In true form
he delivered the keynote address at the fourth General Assembly
of the World Blind Union in August of 1996 on the theme,
"Changing What It Means to be Blind." At the same Assembly he was
elected an honorary life member of the World Blind Union, having
served as Regional President of the North America/Caribbean
Region for more than a decade.

     In my role as President and Chief Executive Officer of the
Canadian National Institute for the Blind, I was privileged to be
part of the delegation to honor Dr. Jernigan as the 1998
recipient of the CNIB Winston Gordon Award for Technological
Advancement in the Field of Blindness and Visual Impairment. This
prestigious international award, presented on September 14 at the
Canadian Embassy in Washington, was given for the development of
NEWSLINE for the Blind(R). In his acceptance speech for the
award, he found the strength to articulate for one last time his
life work in advocacy on the theme of "The Day After Civil
Rights."

     Like Louis Braille, Kenneth Jernigan will be remembered as
one of the most influential figures in the blindness movement in
our time. The decorations and honors awarded him in his lifetime
would require a large gallery for public display. President
Emeritus of the National Federation of the Blind, his biography
and voluminous writings will preserve his memory and teachings
for generations to come in private collections and libraries
worldwide.

     It is with a deep sense of loss that I say farewell to a
close friend whom I held in the highest regard. He had a great
influence on my professional career in the field of blindness and
personally helped me to understand that it is respectable to be
blind. I will miss him.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Pedro Zurita shows Dr. Jernigan a model of the
Louis Braille museum.]
               Dr. Jernigan Will Always Be With Us
                         by Pedro Zurita
                           **********
     From the Editor: Pedro Zurita is Secretary General of the
World Blind Union.
                           **********
     Although in a sense Dr. Jernigan left us last October 12,
from that day on his memory will be perennially cherished by many
blind people all over the world.

     Personally I had a very special relationship with him since
1986, when he and I became particularly involved in the
leadership of the World Blind Union. After the very first
officers' meeting that he attended in the fall of 1987, he wrote
a letter evaluating my performance very highly. In February,
1988, I visited the NFB's national headquarters in Baltimore,
where I had the honor of having dinner with him in his home and
enjoying some of the dishes he himself prepared.

     Sometime later he wrote an article on the Spanish National
Organization of the Blind (ONCE) in the Braille Monitor, in which
he used some of the most flattering adjectives that have ever
been associated with my name. That article proved to be a
challenge to my knowledge of the English language, since I had to
ask what some of those expressions meant!

     In the years he presided over the WBU's North
America/Caribbean Region, he interacted with U.S., Canadian, and
Caribbean delegates. He himself said that such a setup served to
foster cooperation among the region's organizations that would
never have existed otherwise. I believe that Dr. Jernigan's
experience as a WBU leader expanded his view of the world. There
are some problems that you have in the United States that are
universal, but others are different in both degree and nature in
comparison with other areas.

     In any case, Dr. Jernigan will leave an indelible mark on
many of us. Through his writings he conveyed the idea that being
blind is more a characteristic than a handicap. He helped many
people gain self-confidence in no trivial manner. That meant they
tried to do things in life that without his encouragement they
would have ruled out altogether.

     People in Africa who read the Braille Monitor would often
ask me if I knew Dr. Jernigan. I interpreted those queries to
mean that, not only had they read his articles, but the ideas had
done them a great service. From my modest position as editor of
the World Blind, I am proud to say that I was able to publish two
of Dr. Jernigan's outstanding articles, one on "The Nature of
Independence" and the other titled "Blindness: Handicap or
Characteristic?" I personally saw to the Spanish version and know
for a fact that the ideas contained in the paper aroused a great
deal of interest all over the world.

     In the last few days I have received any number of letters
in which people from here and there refer to the enormous impact
that Dr. Jernigan's philosophy had on their lives. We are deeply
afflicted by his parting but consoled by the thought that the
world is a better place for his having lived in it.
                           **********
                           **********
                   A Tribute From New Zealand
                        by Jonathan Mosen
                           **********
October 13, 1998

     Most of us probably find ourselves thinking once in a while
about our legacy. It would be nice to conclude our life's work
knowing that in some way the world is a better place for our
having lived in it. But few of us will ever have the kind of
legacy that is Dr. Kenneth Jernigan's. I want to try and explain
why I wept openly when I heard that Dr. Jernigan had died, why I
in New Zealand, many thousands of miles away from the United
States Congress, NAC, and a history of paternalistic American
State agencies, feel such a profound sense of loss. I undertake
this explanation as a therapy exercise for myself. When I'm at an
emotional extreme, I like to write. But I also do it to say
"thank you" to the National Federation of the Blind and Dr.
Jernigan's family for sharing Dr. Jernigan with the world.

     When I was in my late teens and at university, I was
confident of my own abilities and scared of the future. I had
decided that as a blind person I was limited, not so much by my
abilities, as by other people's perceptions of my so-called
disability. For various reasons I was in the media spotlight
every so often and used to describe blindness as a
characteristic. But I was despondent about the seemingly
unbeatable odds I was battling. I thought that society wouldn't
let me have a future and that I might as well do the world a
favor and surrender the battle. I was at the lowest ebb to which
any human being can descend.

     I have always been an adopter of technology, and at about
this time found myself on the Disabilities Forum of CompuServe. A
man named David Andrews posted a message announcing the latest
issue of a magazine called the Braille Monitor. I downloaded it,
read it, and found hope. I have read almost every Braille Monitor
since then.

     So what is this hope I found? Obviously as someone who has
been interested in blindness advocacy in some form or another
since I crossed swords with the school for the blind at the age
of six, the work of the Federation interested me. But, as a
political science and history graduate, American politics
interests me too. What made my reading of Federation material
different and what gave me hope was that the Federation not only
mirrored my own views about blindness being a characteristic, and
about the real problem of blindness being attitudinal, but they
had proved it through their actions and programs.

     With the advent of the Internet I gained access to much
more. I read Walking Alone and Marching Together, and it was at
this point that I really came to admire Dr. Jernigan. Dr.
Jernigan was many things to the blind of the world. First, he was
a philosopher. One of his most famous pieces, "Blindness:
Handicap or Characteristic," is in my view the most important and
empowering philosophical work on blindness of this century, and
there were many other such writings. He had a remarkable ability
to process and enunciate thoughts clearly and logically. That
takes someone who is a good listener as well as a clear thinker
and talker.

     Second, he was a man who chose the right tactics for the
right time. He knew when the time was right to ask people to join
him on the barricades, but he also knew when the time was right
to embark on the highly successful public education program that
is the Kernel Books. "We will do what we have to do," he said on
many occasions, and that's exactly the strategy he adopted. He
was about outcomes, not about making a noise for its own sake.

     Third, he was the most outstanding orator I have ever heard.
Reading a Jernigan speech is inspiring. Listening to one
delivered live was thrilling and captivating. I attended two NFB
Conventions and was privileged to be present for the banquet
address delivered by Dr. Jernigan last year as well as other
addresses he gave to the two Conventions I have attended. I have
also heard many recordings of his speeches. He never had to shout
or rave to electrify an audience. His delivery was calm and quite
moderately paced. What made listening to him special was the
conviction with which his speeches were delivered, the flawless
structure of his speeches, and the message of hope they all
conveyed.

     But most important of all, his speeches touched us all
deeply. I remember sitting with my sighted wife listening to a
recording of a speech in which Dr. Jernigan read a letter from a
sighted woman going out with a man named Jim. The letter he read
expressed the frustration this woman felt about the way her blind
boyfriend was treated. It was a sincere letter, and I have no
doubt it was familiar to many couples in which one person is
blind and the other is sighted. My wife and I found ourselves
hugging each other and crying. We knew the speech could have been
talking about our own experiences.

     Fourth, he was an educator. He helped a great many people to
realize that blindness wasn't the insuperable barrier they had
thought it was. He did this through his work in the teaching and
rehabilitation professions, through the Federation, and just
through being Dr. Jernigan, the role model and mentor. He
educated the blind about blindness and the sighted too. I know
through reading the forewords to the Kernel Books that he was
particularly proud of the difference this work was making in
changing attitudes on the part of the sighted.

     I could go on for many pages yet, but let me draw this to a
close. Dr. Jernigan, the world is so much better a place because
you lived in it.

     Your writings taught me not only that I had a future, but
that as someone with skills in advocacy and writing I had a duty
to hang in there and do my bit to ensure that the future got
brighter for all of us. You taught us that there were times to be
angry and times when we shouldn't "throw the nickel," times to
march and times to negotiate. You taught us to believe in
ourselves and to believe that through organization and unity of
purpose comes first-class citizenship. Thank you for your
philosophy, your sense of strategy, your sense of proportion,
your oratory, and your education and wisdom.

     I would of course have sent a message of condolence on
behalf of the blind of New Zealand, but in this case it was
important for me personally to say much more. We will mourn, but
Dr. Jernigan's family I'm sure know that he was one of the great
Americans of the twentieth century. I extend my sympathy to Mrs.
Jernigan and family, and to President Maurer as he leads the
Federation through what will be a time of deep sorrow, yet a time
to celebrate the achievements of a truly remarkable human being.
                                        Jonathan Mosen, President
                     Association of Blind Citizens of New Zealand
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Norbert Mueller]
                         Norbert Mueller
                           **********
October 13, 1998

     I was deeply saddened by the news Curtis sent to us. I have
known Dr. Jernigan personally and last met him at this year's
Convention in Dallas. Though his bad cough worried me a great
deal, I was hoping he might have a few more years left. I sent a
fax to the NFB today in which I expressed my feelings of sadness
and how much Dr. Jernigan has meant to me personally. Instead of
copying that fax here [on the NFB's listserv, NFBtalk], let me
give you its contents in more detail.

     I first came to the States in 1983 as a participant in an
international program for people in the social service field. I
worked at the Illinois Visually Handicapped Institute for three
months and after that at the Chicago Lighthouse for the Blind for
nine months. Being active in our State Federation of the Blind in
Germany, I was, of course, curious about similar organizations in
the USA. Especially at the Lighthouse I was told about this crazy
organization called the NFB, who said that blindness was not a
handicap. And the craziest of the whole bunch, so I was told, was
their President, Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, who ruled the organization
like a dictator.

     One day I discovered a program on Chicagoland Radio
Information Service (CRIS Radio) called--I think--Pathways; it
was the program of the National Federation of the Blind. When
they announced that they would broadcast a speech by Dr.
Jernigan, I was curious. I think it was "Blindness: Handicap or
Characteristic." I definitely did not want to miss this, thinking
I would have a good time laughing about the ridiculous things I
would hear.

     I had a wonderful time, but there was nothing to mock at. On
the contrary, there was not one thought mentioned which I would
have contradicted. As I wrote in my message to the NFB today:
"This man was thinking in the same direction I was thinking, but
he did not stop at points where I had begun to take things for
granted."

     What really got to me in that speech was when he told how he
at one time had to put the varnish on furniture. He said he
thought this was impossible for a blind person. But then he
noticed that there were ways he could do it. This really struck a
chord in me. How often have we sold ourselves short, too short?
I--like so many other blind people--had often said things like
"As blind people, we must accept our limitations!" But I had
assumed my limits to be much more narrow than would have been
necessary. I decided at that moment that the better way to find
limits is to keep pushing them.

     Two years later I experienced a very clear example of this.
As a ham radio operator I found occasions when it would have been
valuable if I could have soldered; however, I had always believed
that this was not possible for blind people, at least not with a
regular soldering iron. Then I heard about the Smith Kettlewell
Institute in San Francisco, where blind people could learn how to
solder. So I went there, and they showed me how to do it. When I
came back to Germany, I told another blind ham radio operator
what I had learnt. He replied: "That is not possible!" He was so
convinced of our narrow limits that he would rather not believe
me than change what he had accepted for himself.

     I first met Dr. Jernigan at the NFB convention in Denver in
1989, the first one I ever attended. After that I made it a point
to visit him at every convention I attended. And after Larry
Campbell told me Dr. Jernigan collects spirits, I tried to find
brands for him which he might not yet have.

     In 1995 I had the great opportunity to visit his home in
Baltimore. I was curious about how I as a blind person could
barbecue meat on a real charcoal grill. He showed me and also
introduced me to barbecuing corn on the cob. What a great evening
I had.

     I feel fortunate for having known Dr. Jernigan personally.
He certainly is one of the greatest leaders the blindness
movement has ever had. Think about how he was despised only two
decades ago, and then listen to what some of those same people
say about him today.

     I have stayed active in the self-help movement of the blind.
One of my best sources for information has been the Braille
Monitor. I remember the General Assembly of the World Blind Union
in 1988 in Madrid. I did not go there, but I was eager to learn
more about it. In other magazines I read what a great event it
was and things like that. It was Dr. Jernigan's article in the
Monitor, which presented a more critical view and which really
carried information about the issues being discussed.

     One of the strongest points about the Monitor is that one
does not only read summary reports, but often documents of
importance are enclosed in the articles as well. I have learned a
lot through that. This helps me when I have to write letters or
prepare statements concerning blindness affairs. Dr. Jernigan has
shown us the direction in which we as a minority must travel, no
matter where we live; and he has shown us a lot of tactics and
strategies we can use and build on.

     But he was not only the fighter for our affairs. I would
never want to miss the wonderful articles in the Monitor and in
the Kernel Books in which we saw the private Kenneth Jernigan. I
loved to read about his childhood on the farm in Tennessee; about
his love of reading; about his making furniture; and, last but
not least, only a few months ago about writing sonnets. I do not
know whether Dr. Jernigan had the time to write his memoirs; but
if he did, I want to be among the first to read them.

     I have just started reading Walking Alone and Marching
Together. It was sad to read about the activities of the young
Kenneth Jernigan, knowing there was a very high risk that we
would not have him for long. It will be even harder to read on,
now that he has had to leave us. So what we can do is learn from
his life as much as we can. He can be our teacher, even if we
cannot meet him in person any more.
                           **********
                               Norbert Mueller, Secretary General
                                             European Blind Union
                           **********

                         A Personal View
                         by Allan Dodds
                           **********
October 14, 1998

     This is indeed a great loss to all of us, especially blind
and visually impaired people, of whom Dr. Jernigan was champion.
Jernigan was one of the few giants in the field I ever had the
privilege to speak with, although somehow we never got around to
meeting as we had intended. 

     When I was going through a phase of despair and was about to
throw in the towel in this field of human endeavor, Kenneth gave
me hope. He made me realize that my efforts might not have the
effect I had anticipated, that others would try to silence me,
and that often history has to catch up. "The evil that men do
lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones."

     I grew concerned about his health when I read his last
contribution to the Braille Monitor (a publication which Dr.
Jernigan saw to it that I receive for life). In that edition Dr.
Jernigan wrote rapturously about his love of poetry, one which I
share, and he cited some very beautiful lines, which he himself
had crafted using centuries--old rhyme forms and meters--a severe
discipline, but one which he used without evident effort. (The
art of course lies in concealing the art, and the sonnet is the
most difficult form to master.)

     With Dr. Jernigan's encouragement, and through his example,
I was able to transcend the petty egotisms which often infect
those working in this field. His loss to us all is immeasurable,
but what he leaves behind is of even greater magnitude. Dr.
Jernigan did no evil in his life, and he leaves us with the
awesome responsibility of trying to do the same.
                           **********
                                                  Dr. Allan Dodds
                                        Rehabilitation Consultant
                                             Nottingham, England 
                           **********
                           **********
                         Sir John Wilson
                           **********
                                                 October 14, 1998
                                                Brighton, England
                           **********
Mrs. Kenneth Jernigan
Baltimore, Maryland
                           **********
Dear Mrs. Jernigan (or may I say Mary Ellen),

     May I join with your friends and admirers throughout the
world in sympathy at this time.

     For so many years Kenneth has been at the active center of
all that is best and enduring in the world of the blind. His
brilliant advocacy, his philosophy, and his academic rigor have
changed that world and global attitudes to blindness.

     While we share the loss of a great pioneer and colleague,
these are permanent achievements which endure and give courage to
those of us who have had the privilege of working with Kenneth
and you.
                                                 Yours sincerely,
                                              John Wilson, C.B.E.
                                                 Chairman, IMPACT
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Pecharat Techavachara]
                         Thailand Speaks
                    by Pecharat Techavachara
                           **********
October 18, 1998
                           **********
     We have received the news of Dr. Jernigan passing away with
great sorrow. Certainly the blind all around the world have lost
a great man who has done so much to change the meaning of
blindness. Although Dr. Jernigan has already passed away, his
works and his words, which encourage us, will remain in our
hearts and memories always.
                           **********
                                 Pecharat Techavachara, President
             Foundation for the Employment Promotion of the Blind
                                                         Thailand
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Enrique Elissalde]
                        Enrique Elissalde
     From the Editor:  Enrique Elissalde is president of the
Latin American region of the World Blind Union.
                           **********
                                                 October 13, 1998
                                                          Uruguay
                           **********
Dear Mr. Maurer,

     I have just learnt the sad news about Dr. Jernigan, and with
no delay I want to express my deepest sorrow for the great loss
every one of us has suffered. I have had the pleasure and honor
of sharing with him many years of hard work in the international
arena, and even when our points of view might have differed, I
have always felt an enormous respect for him as a leader and
advocate of the blind.

     Maybe it is not just a mere coincidence that his funeral
will be on October 15, White Cane Day all over the world. All our
activities on that special day will be a way of remembering him
and offering him the homage of our continuous struggle to go
further along the way he has always showed us.

     I would very much appreciate if you would transmit the
contents of this message to his wife and family.
                                         With my kindest regards,
                                     Enrique Elissalde, President
                                   Union Latinamericana de Ciegos
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Hans Cohn]
                            Hans Cohn
                           **********
     I first met Kenneth Jernigan in 1984 on his becoming an
International Officer [of the World Blind Union], but his
reputation had gone before him. Through my reading I knew about
his struggles in the early years of the NFB-USA--against airlines
denying disabled people equal rights with other patrons, against
blind welfare organizations denying the blind a fair share in the
making of decisions affecting their lives, in debates over the
Americans with Disabilities Act, among others. His logical mind
and ability to go straight to the heart of a problem combined
with a healthy impatience with those ranged against him if they
tried to keep blind people from assuming their rightful place in
society enabled him to come out on top in the important battles
he fought. It must be largely due to his organizational skill
that the Federation grew to be the force it is today while he was
its President.

     In international affairs he was an unsung visionary. It was
he who laid down the principle that political considerations
should play no part in admitting new members to the World Blind
Union; this enabled Israel eventually to join against the wishes
of countries seeking her destruction. Unlike most of his
colleagues on the WBU Executive, he set his face against the idea
of a projected International Federation of the Disabled from the
beginning and was proved to be right.

     Readers of these pages are witness to Dr. Jernigan's ability
to put his ideas into words which both charmed and convinced, as
seen in his many contributions to the Braille Monitor and the
Kernel Books. I shall always treasure the memory of a summer
afternoon in our garden in London during his European tour to
celebrate his wedding anniversary in 1996. One of the things he
told me was that he thought the London Underground was the best
public transport system in the world--a tribute I was able to
reward by presenting him with a history of the London
Underground.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Kua Cheng Hock]
                         Kua Cheng Hock
                           **********
     From the Editor: Mr. Kua is President of the Independent
Society for the Blind of Singapore and President of the Asia
Blind Union. He spoke briefly at the memorial service; this is
what he said:
                           **********
     Mrs. Jernigan, President Maurer, comrades in the march:
indeed it is my great honor and pleasure to be given this
opportunity to express our fond memories of Dr. Jernigan, to
express to you the influence he has had in the work of the self-
help movement among the blind in Asia. I regret that the duration
of my relationship with Dr. Jernigan was rather short--since
1992, but the past six years have been tremendous in the way he
has guided us, and the influence he has had on the work of the
organizations of the blind in Singapore and Asia will live way
beyond this transitory life he has just left. What he has taught
and what he has done will continue to guide the work of the blind
in Asia. He gave a speech, "The Day after Civil Rights," but he
knew that in Asia we have a long way to go. He kindly extended
his hand to us when I called him in 1992. Without knowing me, he
extended his willingness to cooperate and assist in the work of
the blind. Since the World Blind Union meeting in 1992 he always
opened the door of the NFB in the spirit of teaching, leadership
building, and cooperation. This spirit will continue to guide us.

     When my colleagues learned of Dr. Jernigan's death, they
asked me if we should be represented. Dr. Jernigan was very kind
in accepting me on my visit just twelve days before he passed
away. That in itself speaks of the kind of heart he had for the
work in Asia. I decided just two days ago to come to this
memorial service to express our love and fond memories of Dr.
Jernigan. My family is on vacation in Orlando, but my heart was
very burdened because I wanted to be here to share with you the
appreciation we have of Dr. Jernigan. I would like to thank those
of you who have given me the time to express the influence he
had. We in Singapore and Asia feel very much a part of the family
of the Federation of the Blind.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Colin Low speaks at the memorial service.]
                            Colin Low
                           **********
     From the Editor: Colin Low is Vice Chairman of the Executive
Council of the Royal National Institute for the Blind and a
leader of the National Federation of the Blind of the United
Kingdom. Here are his remarks from the memorial service:
                           **********
     By what right does somebody come from three thousand miles
away to speak of someone whom you have accurately described as
such a multi-dimensional figure? If I could take a minute to
begin with a brief personal reminiscence--I only met Dr. Jernigan
four or five times, but the magnetism and the dynamism of his
personality were such that he impressed himself upon you
immediately as a figure of greatness. And the openness and
generosity of his spirit were such that I think you got to know a
lot about him as a person and a human being quite quickly. 

     The last time I had the pleasure and privilege of his
company was very recently, at the end of August. I had come to
Baltimore to record an interview with him, but to my eternal
regret, we weren't able to have that conversation because, as
everyone would understand, at that time he just didn't feel
strong enough for it. Notwithstanding that, he insisted on
entertaining me to dinner that evening although he had to leave
for an urgent doctor's appointment in the middle of it. And,
although his voice was a little weaker than I was used to, his
conversation sparkled nonetheless. That was another thing that he
did in his last year--in his last months of life, and I was
deeply moved and touched by the courtesy he did me on that
evening. 

     I have been to only one of your conventions, but one of them
is formative enough to be quite an experience in itself. In
addition to that, I got to know quite a lot about your Federation
quickly and on a continuing basis through Dr. Jernigan's many
writings. Certainly we in the National Federation of the Blind in
Britain felt through them a great affinity with your Federation
and that indeed we were really part of it. We rejoiced with you
through the eighties as you took increasingly confident and
powerful strides to bring you to the point where you are now, a
fully mature organization and a major power in the land. 

     So thank you for letting me come and be with you in
solidarity this afternoon, with Mrs. Jernigan; with you,
President Maurer; and with all of you. I come from the European
Blind Union and from the National Federation of the Blind and the
Royal National Institute for the Blind in England to salute the
memory of a great man renowned the world over as a giant among
leaders of the blind, a man of ideas, a profound thinker about
blindness, and a brilliant communicator of those ideas.

     The first two of my affiliations, I am sure, he would
recognize as kindred spirits of his own National Federation of
the Blind. The last, not being formally an organization of the
blind, he might have regarded a little more warily. But through
contact with us in recent years he may have come to believe that
we had absorbed enough of the ethos of Federationism to be
admitted to the same table. It is indeed reassuring to me to hear
you talk, Mr. President, of the development of interest between
blind people and those who work for them. Certainly our Director
General, Ian Bruce, was most gratified by the warm welcome he
received at your convention this summer. 

     Wherein lay Kenneth Jernigan's greatness as a leader? Of
course it cannot be divorced altogether from his message and his
skill in communicating it. I can't help thinking that it also had
something to do with his roots. I'm not talking here of his roots
in the Depression, which obviously had a formative influence on
his character, but his roots in the movement of blind people, the
National Federation of the Blind, which was obviously a seminal
influence too. He molded the Federation, but he was very much of
the Federation mold. In his introductions to the Kernel Books Dr.
Jernigan was fond of saying, "We who are blind are pretty much
like you. We have our share of both geniuses and jerks, but most
of us are somewhere between, ordinary people living ordinary
lives." There's a lot of truth in that, of course, as every blind
person knows. But I can't help feeling that it errs just a little
on the modest side.

     My great friend Martin Milligan, who himself contributed a
great deal to the sustaining ideology of blindness in Britain,
was wont to observe that blind people as a group displayed
estimable qualities of robustness and solidarity and
determination to get the most out of life and to make the least
of their difficulties that could well serve as an example to
others I can't help thinking that he had a point.

     If this is true elsewhere, it must be all the more true of
the USA, which has the strongest organized blind movement in the
world. At all events it says much for American culture and
American society as well as for the Federation and its leaders
that the NFB should have been able to throw up such a succession
of leaders as tenBroek, Jernigan, Maurer, and others forged in
the same mold. And with what leadership qualities did that mold
invest them? In Jernigan's case the answer is clear: charisma--
there's no other word for it (I've seen him hold that convention
in the palm of his hand); the ability to motivate and inspire at
the level of the rehabilitation center as well as of the
convention hall; vision; clarity of purpose; boundless energy and
drive; an unquenchable thirst for hard work; an invincible will;
the list goes on--and others will add to it.

     His gifts of communication were awe-inspiring. The
convention banquet addresses were the stuff of legend. What was
their secret? I can identify some of the ingredients: a piece of
homespun wisdom--"It has been wisely observed that philosophy
bakes no bread, but without philosophy no bread is baked"--razor-
sharp analysis, a dash of humor, some merciless knock-about at
the expense of the professionals, a wealth of learning, and some
Olympian oratory, all rounded off with a stirring call to arms.
But the precise recipe on each occasion required the magician to
be personally present to weave his spell. At bottom, I think it
was his ability to articulate for blind people and for the
sighted the reality of what it's like to be blind and how blind
people feel, as opposed to the misconceptions which abound in
this area of human understanding. And for blind people he
articulated their potential in a way that enabled them to realize
that potential for themselves.

     Nowhere did he do this better than in the Kernel Books,
where he spoke directly to the common experience of ordinary
people. The Kernel Books have a constant theme and a common
purpose. He would say: "It is to let you know something about the
details of everyday life as blind persons live it. Mostly we are
not world-famous celebrities but ordinary people just like you--
people who laugh and cry, work and play, hope and dream, just
like you." With an image here--the hook on the doctor's door,
perhaps--or an incident or anecdote there, like tapping the
charcoal, he vividly brought to life the circumstances of
blindness in a way which, once heard, could never be forgotten.
This was where he was at his superlative best. No wonder they've
sold in their millions.

     Let me conclude with this. As always it was Jernigan who
posed the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question: "And what do you
think that future historians will say of us, of you and me? How
will they deal with our movement, with the National Federation of
the Blind? Will they record that we fell back into the faceless
anonymity of the ages, or that we met the challenges and survived
as a free people?" Jernigan's answer was clear. "History is not
against us. It goes forward to the next generation as a heritage
and a challenge. The past proclaims it; the present confirms it;
and the future demands it."

     No one can doubt the answer history will return on the life
and work of Kenneth Jernigan. It stands as a heritage worthy of
his predecessors, a challenge to spur his successors, and an
example to inspire us all. But there is one more thing which
should be said, and again his words should say it, for he seldom
left us without a warning and a summons to action, but a summons
that reminded us that duty is not always travail and grief and
that today is not just a time of sadness and tribulation, but of
celebration and rejoicing too, for a lifetime full of industry
and achievement and fully lived in the service of his people,
which will be remembered as long as the National Federation of
the Blind is spoken of. "We stand at a critical time in the
history of the blind," he would say. "If we falter or turn back,
the tragedy of blindness will be great indeed. But of course we
will not falter, and we will not turn back. Instead we will go
forward with joy in our hearts and a song of gladness on our
lips. The future is ours, and the novelists and the poets will
record it. Come"--and there can hardly be a person in this hall
who cannot hear him saying this to us now--"Come, join me on the
barricades, and we will make it come true."
                           **********
                           **********
             Friends in the Business Community Speak
                           **********
[PHOTO DESCRIPTION: Dr. Jernigan is seated at a table with the
Kurzweil Reading Machine in front of him. A very young Raymond
Kurzweil stands beside him. CAPTION: Dr. Kurzweil (left) and Dr.
Jernigan unveil the Kurzweil Reading Machine at the Iowa
Commission for the Blind in January, 1977.]
                     Raymond Kurzweil, Ph.D.
                           **********
     From the Editor: Dr. Kurzweil is a true friend of blind
people. He has frequently used his impressive intelligence to
further the dreams and aspirations of people who cannot read
regular print. In the course of an active and creative career he
became good friends with Dr. Jernigan. This is what he said at
the memorial service:
                           **********
     I deeply appreciate the opportunity to share my thoughts
with you today. I would like to say that it was wonderful to hear
Mrs. Jernigan's remarks; they moved me to tears. Dr. Maurer's
remarks were equally moving. It was fascinating to hear details
of Dr. Jernigan's life that I had not heard before.

     This is a sad occasion for me. It is also a joyous one, and
I would like to talk about both of these feelings.

     Let me first share some recollections. I grew up in Queens,
New York, and had a unique religious upbringing. Although my
parents were Jewish immigrants who had fled Hitler, I had a
religious education at a Unitarian Church, where the philosophy
was "many paths to the truth." So we would spend six months
studying Judaism, then six months Buddhism, and so on. The
unifying theme was tolerance and the idea that everyone can
contribute. There was an emphasis on social consciousness and
being part of the greater struggle for equality and justice in
society. So we played an active role in the Civil Rights movement
at that time and took part in Civil Rights marches.

     I remember thinking how fortunate I was to live in the time
of Martin Luther King. Even from afar I felt inspired and
grateful to be able to play a small role in that historic drama.
I felt at the time, and continue to feel, that Dr. King was one
of the great leaders in American history.

     Well, that's how I feel about Dr. Jernigan, and I believe
that Dr. Jernigan's impact and legacy are at least as significant
and profound. And like Dr. King the benefits of Dr. Jernigan's
work go far beyond the immediate issues that each of these two
remarkable leaders fought for.

     I first met Dr. Jernigan in 1975. We had developed a
prototype of the Kurzweil Reading Machine but needed support to
perfect it and launch this technology as a product. We went
around and showed our work to many of the organizations in this
field. Everyone was friendly and supportive, but words of
encouragement don't exactly pay the rent.

     But then our luck changed. I met with Jim Gashel, who said
he would have to speak with his boss, Dr. Kenneth Jernigan. And
literally within hours came the reply that Dr. Jernigan was most
excited about what we had demonstrated and wanted to work with us
immediately to raise funds, to perfect the machine technically,
and to get the word out.

     Now that's what I call responsiveness. That was just one
small example of Dr. Jernigan's leadership: bold, decisive,
knowledgeable, confident, insightful, and effective. That
particular collaboration resulted in significant funds being
raised and a group of blind scientists and engineers from the NFB
working closely with us to perfect the reading machine. I do
recall at the time thinking it unusual that so many of them came
from the state of Iowa.

     And that was the beginning of a friendship that lasted the
next quarter of a century. As fortunate as I felt as a child
growing up in Queens, New York, to participate from afar in a
movement led by a great American such as Dr. King, imagine how
blessed I have felt to have had the opportunity over the past
quarter century to work closely with Dr. Jernigan and to get to
know him as a friend and colleague.

      Dr. Jernigan was as exceptional a person as he was a
leader. I cannot think of anyone in my life more gracious. To be
welcomed into the home of Dr. and Mrs. Jernigan was always a
special pleasure. He had a terrific sense of humor and was a
great story teller, a wonderful host, and a remarkably attentive
friend. Despite his many responsibilities he always had time
thoughtfully to relate to everyone he met as a unique and
distinctive human being.

     As a leader he had a simple and profound vision of how
things could be, of how things should be, and a rare ability to
translate that vision into effective action in the complex world
we live in. He was, of course, a great orator. I will always
remember his NFB convention banquet addresses, the grand cadence
of his words, and the soulful rhythm of his delivery.

     So the joy I feel, as I wrote recently to Dr. Maurer and
Mrs. Jernigan, comes from the privilege of having known Dr.
Jernigan during his lifetime and the gratification of knowing
that he was able to taste the fruits of his labor. Unlike Moses
he got to walk on the promised land.

     I also wrote to Dr. Maurer and Mrs. Jernigan that, while
there is much yet to be done, Dr. Jernigan has left behind a
great movement and many talented people who will continue to be
inspired by his legacy. We can take pleasure in the satisfaction
he expressed near the end of his life in what had been
accomplished and in his confidence in the leadership he left in
place.

     Dr. Jernigan is with us today. He is looking down at this
gathering with serenity and approval. He wants us to be joyful
and optimistic about the world that lies ahead. It is a world
made richer by Dr. Jernigan's having been part of our lives.
                           **********
                           **********
                        David Pillischer
                           **********
     From the Editor: David Pillischer is the President of
Sighted Electronics, a vendor marketing adaptive technology for
the blind. He and Dr. Jernigan came to be close friends, and late
last year he wrote Dr. Jernigan the following letter:
                           **********
                                           Northvale, New Jersey 
                                                November 30, 1997
                           **********
Dear Dr. Jernigan:

     When I opened your letter and read it, my eyes became
tearful. I have read the letter you sent to me on November 25 a
number of times now. I was under the impression that your cancer
although serious was operable. This has given me quite a shock.

     Before I met you and learned what the National Federation of
the Blind stood for, many people had given me erroneous
information about the organization. I did not know and even
misunderstood the great works that the NFB achieved. That first
evening, when I had dinner with you, Mohymen, and Mrs. Jernigan
at your home, you showed me the lamps and furniture made by you
as a young man. I listened as you told me why you made the
furniture, of the desire you had to work as a field hand with the
other boys, the rejection you felt when the farm owners would not
allow it. I remembered when you told me you would do everything
in your power to see to it that no other blind child would have
to grow up as you had to. I knew then that you were on a noble
crusade. I, being sighted, did not fully understand the
prejudices you faced, but I feel your conviction in the way you
speak of the battles that must be fought. I have also learned
much from you, Dr. Jernigan. I have learned that people who are
honest, with high moral standards, can succeed through faith in
their abilities and hard work.

     As long as someone will pick up your flag and march on with
the same strong belief in equality for the blind as you, my
support will be with them. However, my prayers are with you. I am
proud to say that I know you. I will miss you.
                           **********
                                                 David Pillischer
                                        Sighted Electronics, Inc.
                           **********
                           **********
                   Private Organizations Speak
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Jean Dyon Norris and Dr. Jernigan at the Tarzana,
California, office of the American Action Fund for Blind Children
and Adults]
                        Jean Dyon Norris
                     Director of Operations
                    American Action Fund for
                    Blind Children and Adults
                           **********
     In 1960 Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, President of the American
Brotherhood for the Blind, sent Dr. Jernigan to Los Angeles to
look into the possibility of taking on my Twin Vision(R) books as
a project. While I was telling him the story of a blind mother,
Audrey Hebner, inspiring me to Braille books so she could read to
her sighted son, Dr. Jernigan exclaimed: "We went to the
Tennessee School For the Blind together!"

     A short time ago a blind mother called us wanting to read to
her sighted granddaughter. While I was taking the information
needed to send her a library application, she gave her name as
Audrey Hebner. You can imagine the surprise for both of us.

     Because Dr. Jernigan agreed to take on Twin Vision(R) books,
we have grown into a major publishing organization. Thirty
thousand popular, small Braille calendars are sent out annually
upon request to almost everyone who is blind; a weekly Braille
newspaper, Hot Line to Deaf-Blind, is published for the deaf-
blind in the United States and in over forty foreign countries.

     With the permission of the Board and Dr. Jernigan and with
great pride, I named our national library for blind children the
Kenneth Jernigan Library for Blind Children. This special library
is the largest source of reading material for blind children K-1
through high school reading level, for blind parents with sighted
children, and for almost all schools with blind students. The
Kenneth Jernigan Library for Blind Children will remain a living
memorial to a very great man for generations to come.
     My last letter to Dr. Jernigan ended as follows:
                           **********
     "I will never forget hearing you recite one of your long-
time favorite poems on an NFB tape. It had been displayed for
years in the Kenneth Jernigan Library because it had been my
favorite poem since childhood. It is truly the story of your
life: "They said it couldn't be done, but you did it."
                           **********
                       It Couldn't Be Done
                        By Edgar A. Guest
                           **********
             Somebody said that it couldn't be done,
                 But he with a chuckle replied,
          That "maybe it couldn't"; but he would be one
              Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.
         So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
              On his face. If he worried he hid it.
           He started to sing as he tackled the thing
              That couldn't be done, and he did it.

           Somebody scoffed: "Oh you'll never do that;
               At least no one ever has done it";
        But he took off his coat and he took off his hat,
           And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.
          With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
                Without any doubting or quiddit?,
           He started to sing as he tackled the thing
              That couldn't be done, and he did it.

       There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
            There are thousands to prophesy failure;
       There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
              The dangers that wait to assail you.
            But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
              Just take off your coat and go to it;
          Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
            That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Dr. Susan Spungin]
                 Tribute to Dr. Kenneth Jernigan
                   by Susan J. Spungin, Ed.D.
                           **********
     From the Editor: Dr. Spungin is Vice President of the
National Programs Group of the American Foundation for the Blind.
Here are the remarks she delivered at the memorial service:
                           **********
     I would like to begin with a tribute to Dr. Jernigan from
Carl Augusto, President of the American Foundation for the Blind,
who unfortunately cannot be with us today: 

     Dr. Kenneth Jernigan was a leader's leader and had an
unwavering belief in the capabilities of blind people. He was
someone I have always respected and grew to admire as I got to
know him better over the years. His presentations sometimes made
me laugh, made me cry, made me think, made me happy, made me sad,
but always stimulated my thinking and rekindled my passion for
work on behalf of people who are blind or visually impaired.

     This past summer, at the convention of the National
Federation of the Blind, it was my pleasure and privilege to
present Dr. Jernigan with the American Foundation for the Blind's
first International Leadership Award. This award was given in
recognition of his lifelong commitment to enabling blind people
to be all they can be. His leadership in this country and
throughout the world is unparalleled. He has inspired blind and
visually impaired people to reach for the stars and not allow
their blindness to be an obstacle in the way of success.

     He was, as I am and know Dr. Maurer is, committed to working
to bring the field of blindness together so we all can redouble
our efforts in improving the lives of blind and visually impaired
people everywhere.

     Dr. Jernigan's leadership will be sorely missed, but his
legacy will live on.
                           **********
     Now my remarks to my good friend Mary Ellen Jernigan and her
family and to President Maurer:

     Dr. Kenneth Jernigan, a giant in the field of blindness, has
left us. There are others in the field that may fit that
description, but, whether you agreed with Dr. Jernigan or not,
his impact on changing the meaning of blindness for the public;
the professionals and providers of service; and, most
significantly, blind people themselves has made a major impact on
the twentieth century.

     I was privileged to know Dr. Jernigan for approximately
twenty years, first at the professional level and later as a
friend. In both relationships I received more than I gave, and I
will always consider him a great teacher. A teacher of strategy,
of debate, of literature, and of letters--an orator, an advocate,
a philosopher, a connoisseur, and a humorist.

     This great teacher has always been an enigma for many of us,
which perhaps explains the vast differences of opinion on the
actions of this man. I dare you to find someone who has known Dr.
Jernigan and has no opinion about his words and deeds.

     Perhaps the first verse of this sonnet, written by Kenneth
Jernigan, best explains this man many of us were privileged to
know and love.
                           **********
                          To Heisenberg
                           **********
     Perhaps my final breath will gently go 
     In restful sleep or age or other way,
     As uneventful as the close of day
     When only soft and quiet breezes blow
     To mark the undramatic ebb and flow
     Of all that lives and turns again to clay.
     But just as like, my life may end in fray.
     We dream and speculate but cannot know.
                           **********
     When I first met Dr. Jernigan, it was during a period of
time when the demand of consumer involvement and empowerment were
becoming more of a reality rather than rhetoric. It was during a
period of time when Bill Gallagher, then Executive Director and
President of AFB, had the foresight to see the political
potential and demand for provider/consumer partnerships in order
to save categorical programs for the blind, seen by many in the
1980's, as now, as redundant and too costly for too few of the
larger and increasingly more vocal disabled community. Of course,
having been in the field as a teacher of blind children since
1965 and with AFB since 1972, I certainly knew of Dr. Jernigan
and the NFB movement but, unfortunately, only in the context of
the conflict between AFB and NFB on standards and the National
Accreditation Council for Agencies Serving the Blind, which in
retrospect speaks volumes about the beginning of the consumer
empowerment movement for blind people in our country.

     However, trying to move past that, Bill Gallagher and
Kenneth Jernigan agreed to select a small number of their
respective staffs to meet together in order first to agree to
disagree on issues but second, and more important, to define
those issues AFB and NFB agreed on, and to work together toward
their resolution. Due to these two men many meetings were held
and later expanded, after a hiatus, with the help of the North
America/Caribbean Region of the World Blind Union, to a committee
known as JOE--the Joint Organizational Effort.

     Well, I was privileged to be part of those many meetings,
which afforded me the opportunity of getting to know Dr. Jernigan
in action, so to speak. When I think back to my feelings about
working and getting to know Dr. Jernigan, I come up with a
laundry list of emotions. The top of the list was fear and
terror, followed by curiosity, guilt, anger, frustration, hope,
determination, and commitment--a commitment to the participatory
rights of all disabled individuals and, I underscore, for respect
for the providers of services which the blind must depend on,
improve on, and honor.

     I have been privileged to be invited to address three of
NFB's National Conventions in 1989, 1994, and 1997. The first two
on the topic of Braille, and the third on perhaps Dr. Jernigan's
greatest challenge for me, numbers and statistics--go figure!
And, during those years from 1989 to 1997, I have enjoyed getting
to know many of the NFB friends gathered here today. Together we
have collected the infamous convention mugs, clicked glasses for
the same celebrations, sung the songs, and clapped the rhythms
that have hopefully helped toward changing the meaning of
blindness for blind people themselves, the professionals who work
with them, and the general public.

     If we see further than our predecessors, it's because we
stand on the shoulders of giants, and what a giant Dr. Jernigan
was and always will be. Happily, he has left this world a better
place and has left us his writing, which serves as some of the
best information about him as a person and about blindness.

     The speech which will always stay with me and allow me to
remember the importance of the past spent together with Dr.
Jernigan, Kenneth or Ken, is his last address delivered at the
Annual Banquet in New Orleans on July 4, 1997, and I quote:
                           **********
     "If a minority lives too long in an armed camp atmosphere,
that minority becomes poisoned and corroded. We must move beyond
minority mentality and victim thinking. This will be difficult--
especially in today's society, where hate and suspicion are a
rising tide and where members of minorities are encouraged and
expected to feel bitterness and alienation and members of the
majority are encouraged and expected to feel guilt and
preoccupation with the past. Yes, it will be hard to do what I am
suggesting, but we must do it. We must be willing to give to
others as much as we want others to give to us, and we must do it
with good will and civility. We must make the hard choices and
take the long view.

     "Let me be specific. If a blind person tries to exploit
blindness to get an advantage, or tries to use blindness as an
excuse for failure or bad behavior, we must stand with the
sighted person that the blind person is trying to victimize. This
will not be easy; it will not always be politically correct; and
it will frequently bring criticism, not only from those blind
persons who claim to want equality but are not willing to earn
it, but also from some of the sighted as well. But we must do it
anyway. If we want equal treatment and true integration, we must
act like equals and not hide behind minority status. Yes, blind
people are our brothers and sisters, but so are the sighted.
Unless we are willing to have it that way, we neither deserve nor
truly want what we have always claimed as a birthright.

     "That birthright, equal responsibility as well as equal
rights, is the very essence of the NFB's philosophy. It is what
we set out to get in 1940; it is what we have fought for every
step of the way; it is what we are now close to achieving; and it
is what we are absolutely determined to have. Equal rights--equal
responsibility.

     "We are capable of working with the sighted, playing with
the sighted, and living with the sighted; and we are capable of
doing it on terms of complete equality. Likewise the sighted are
capable of doing the same with us--and for the most part I think
they want to. What we need is not confrontation but
understanding, an understanding that runs both ways. This means
an ongoing process of communication and public education."
                           **********
     I believe Dr. Jernigan's words and thoughts should stand as
a vision or strategic goal for all of us as we enter the twenty-
first century.

     Finally, what is it about this man that will always stay
with me? Perhaps it was his love of play, with paper airplanes
flying and wet-lipped wine glasses singing on absolutely, or so I
thought, the most formal occasions. Perhaps it was the absolute
joy he had creating wordplays that danced across his tongue to
the delight of all onlookers. Perhaps it was his need to account
meticulously for and understand every aspect of life from the
best wines to construction of elevators and roof gardens. Perhaps
it was his love of Braille as the gateway to equality for all
blind people. Perhaps it was his lack of concern for person-first
language. His complete involvement with life and the effective
use of every minute of it, is an accomplishment I continually
envy. I will never forget you, Dr. Jernigan, but I have to admit
I miss you already.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Dr. Tuck Tinsley]
                       Tuck Tinsley, Ed.D.
                           **********
     From the Editor: Dr. Tinsley is President of the American
Printing House for the Blind. He spoke briefly at the memorial
service; this is what he said:
                           **********
     People in Kentucky and Tennessee are generally plain-spoken,
straight-talking, simple people who love the earth. As you know,
Dr. Jernigan was raised on a farm in that special part of our
country. We have a saying: you should leave the wood pile a
little higher than you found it. This simple yet profound
statement captures the essence of Dr. Jernigan's life. What he
found years ago was a meager and dwindling wood pile, people
being treated as second-class citizens because they were blind.
From early on he focused his energy and many talents on assuring
that all blind individuals are treated with dignity and respect.
Dr. Jernigan's life was dedicated to replenishing that wood pile,
one log at a time. His shining example shows us what a person can
accomplish with focus, determination, and the guts to face
obstacles head on. There has never been a more vocal or more
effective advocate for the blind than Dr. Kenneth Jernigan. The
American Printing House for the Blind, the state of Kentucky, the
vision field, and I personally will sorely miss him. 
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Larry Campbell speaks at the memorial service.]
                      Lawrence F. Campbell
                           **********
     From the Editor: Larry Campbell is Vice President of the
International Council for the Education of People with Visual
Impairment (ICEVI). He works from the Overbrook School for the
Blind in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The following were his
remarks at the memorial service:
                           **********
     It is an honor to have the opportunity to say a few words
today on behalf of the thousands of educators of blind children
throughout the world who are members of ICEVI. As word of Dr.
Jernigan's death spread throughout the world, my telephone rang
off the hook, and my e-mail basket was full--all asking the same
question: what can we do to express our feelings about this great
leader who so influenced thinking, not only here in the U.S. but
in some of the remotest regions of the world, where equality for
blind people is, in many cases, still a dream?

     As I began to think about what I might say this afternoon,
many fond memories of my nearly twenty years of association with
Dr. Jernigan and the NFB ran through my mind. Let me share with
you one of my fondest memories. In 1997 ICEVI convened its tenth
World Conference in Sao Paulo, Brazil. As Chairperson of the
Program Committee one of my most important tasks was to identify
a keynote speaker who would deliver a thought-provoking address
that would set the tone for this meeting, whose theme concerned
establishing partnerships among parents, consumers, and
educators. Dr. Jernigan immediately came to mind, and he
graciously accepted my invitation.

     Dr. and Mrs. Jernigan arrived in Sao Paulo a couple of days
before the conference was to open, and after settling them into
their hotel and giving them a very quick orientation to points of
interest in the area, which included a local crafts market, I
returned to the many last-minute details associated with
organizing such a World Conference.

     The conference was to open with Dr. Jernigan's keynote
address at the State Palace on Sunday evening. Late that
afternoon I stopped by the hotel to find that indeed Dr. Jernigan
had fully explored the local crafts market and had purchased some
onyx cordial glasses of which he was very fond. Some of you here
may have used those glasses, and I want to assure you that any
and all of us who returned to Brazil after that meeting were
under standing orders to scour that craft market to find more of
them. After all, the NFB is a large organization, and a dozen
onyx cordial glasses don't go far at an NFB function.

     That afternoon Dr. Jernigan inquired as to how we would get
to the State Palace. Earlier that same day Victor Siaulys, the
parent of a blind child and the chairperson of the Host
Committee, had suggested to me that we use his helicopter to
travel to the State Palace. Without even checking with Dr.
Jernigan, I graciously declined, knowing how he felt about being
airborne.

     When I told Dr. Jernigan that a car would pick us up and
that I had declined the use of Victor's helicopter, he paused for
a moment and said: "Well, Larry, you know I have never been in a
helicopter before, and I really do like to try everything at
least once." As you can imagine, this took me by surprise, but
then again Dr. Jernigan was always full of surprises. A quick
call to the pilot Sergio, and a few minutes later Dr. and Mrs.
Jernigan and I were at the local heliport, boarding a 6-passenger
Bell helicopter and on our way to the State Palace. While Mrs.
Jernigan provided a running commentary, Dr. Jernigan, with his
unquenchable curiosity, fired one question after another at the
pilot Sergio, who later confided in me that he was quite certain
that with a few more flights Dr. Jernigan would be asking to take
the controls. I think it must have been the first time in his
life that he had been airborne and thoroughly enjoyed the
experience. In fact, after landing he still wanted to learn as
much as he could--how helicopters were constructed and how they
operated. For a while I thought the conference might open without
our keynote speaker.

     Upon arrival in the auditorium of the State Palace, Dr.
Jernigan asked me to orient him to the room and then to walk him
through the route from his seat in the front row to the podium.
Two passes through these paces and he was ready to do it alone.

     It will not surprise anyone here to learn that his keynote
address was magnificent and extremely well received by the 1,500
delegates and local dignitaries on hand that evening. However,
beyond the powerful words of his keynote address there was
something else at work in the auditorium of the State Palace that
evening. It is reflected in the following editorial which
appeared several months later in the Asia Appraiser, the regional
magazine of ICEVI/Asia. I think it sums up what Dr. Jernigan has
represented to so many educators throughout the world. Let me
close my remarks with the words of that editorial.
                           **********
     "When Dr. Kenneth Jernigan of the National Federation of the
Blind of the United States of America walked independently to the
dais of the State Palace in Sao Paulo to deliver the keynote
address of the tenth World Conference of the International
Council for Education of People with Visual Impairment, there was
thunderous applause. He was independent, elegant, and reassured
the conference that visually impaired persons can come out of the
social conditioning that they are inferior.

     "A delegate in the back row shouted with joy, `That is
beautiful, Dr. Jernigan; why don't others emulate you?'
Orientation and mobility are vital aspects of the independent
living of any visually impaired person. The independent movement
of Dr. Jernigan made thousands of people assembled at the Palace
proud.

     "The striking statement `Leading by Example' made by Dr.
Jernigan during his keynote address was relevant to what he had
demonstrated. His powerful address set the trend for an excellent
conference. After delivering the address, no one was needed to
bring him back to his seat. He did it by himself. He, through his
action, had demonstrated that he leads others by example. He also
indicated how parents, teachers, administrators, and other
professionals in the field should lead by example in whatever
work they do.

     "We can make our visually impaired children outstanding if
they are led by example. Let us make them excellent in education,
mobility, rehabilitation, and integration. In doing so, let us
emulate Dr. Jernigan and his powerful statement, `Leading by
Example'"!

[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Gerald Kass]
                         Gerald M. Kass

     From the Editor: Gerald Kass is the Executive Vice President
of the Jewish Braille Institute of America. The October, 1998,
issues of The Jewish Braille Review and the JBI Voice, the
organization's flagship publications, were both dedicated to the
memory of Dr. Jernigan. The "JBI Corner," written by Gerald Kass
(as he told Dr. Maurer) "in tribute to Dr. Jernigan's gifts of
mind and spirit," is reprinted here.

                           JBI Corner

Dear Reader:

     Earlier this week a great and historic leader in the
emancipation of blind persons passed on. There are those who
adored Dr. Kenneth Jernigan and those who found controversy with
him, but none would deny that he gave character and direction to
the blind civil rights movement in America and beyond. He
believed with a firm faith that blindness was not a way of life
but rather a human characteristic which for reasons of public
attitude and access deprived many of their present rights and
future hope.

     Kenneth Jernigan was a golden-tongued orator. His banquet
speeches at the annual conventions of the National Federation of
the Blind were eloquent blueprints of his vision of the future--
one in which blindness would no longer define educational
possibilities, employment possibilities, and citizen
participation. I well remember many years ago when Dr. Jernigan
invited me to Baltimore to the city which at that time was the
new home of the National Federation of the Blind. I was not only
impressed with what I saw but also with the details of how every
square inch of its enormous building would be used to advance the
well-being of blind people. Later that evening, over dinner at
his home, when the conversation became more personal, I marveled
at his strength of purpose, graciousness, and enormous sense of
humor in the midst of so many pressures. Ken Jernigan enjoyed
being the host, and his guests enjoyed him.

     The Jewish Braille Institute joins all those who deeply care
about the future of blind people in paying tribute to his life
and now his enduring memory.
                                                       Sincerely,
                                                   Gerald M. Kass
                                         Executive Vice President
                          The Jewish Braille Institute of America

[PHOTO DESCRIPTION: On these two pages is an array of nine
pictures of Dr. Jernigan reading Braille. The caption for each
picture is the year in which it was taken. In some pictures he
stands, and in some he sits. In some he is serious, and in some
he laughs. His hair style changes, but in all he is wearing a
suit and tie. The dates of the pictures are as follows: 1968,
1970, 1975 (2 pictures), 1979, 1981, 1991, 1993, and 1996. 
CAPTION: For Dr. Jernigan, Braille was an integral part of every
day. Through the years he used it to do research, to teach, and
to entertain.]
                 Mass Mail Friends Say Thank You
                           **********
     From the Editor: Most charitable organizations raise at
least part of their operating funds by conducting mass mail
campaigns. The NFB is no different. Dr. Jernigan shaped our mail
program and wrote and signed the letters.

     Shortly before his death he wrote one last letter to the
thousands of people who had come to know him through those
letters and through the Kernel Books they had received. In this
letter he told our supporters that he did not have much longer to
live and that Dr. Maurer would be taking over in keeping them
informed about the work and dreams of the Federation. The
response to that letter has been surprising even to those who
knew something of the affection in which Dr. Jernigan was held by
the people who help make our work possible. Here is a small
sample of the letters we have received:

Bainbridge, Washington
November 3, 1998

Dear Kenneth:

     You mention that Marc Maurer will do your work with love and
ability. That is exactly what you have done. It has been a real
pleasure to receive your letters and requests for help. I found
myself looking forward to them and saving funds so that we could
help.

     We mailed you a check yesterday, but I wanted to write you a
note too, to let you know how we felt about you and your work.

     You have helped me, a ninety-year-old man. Thank you,
Kenneth.


Salt Lake City, Utah

To the Friends and Relatives of Kenneth:

     Please accept with deepest sympathy the heartfelt thought
that there is hope in each new tomorrow. I did not know him
personally, but I read all his books and the sweet stories of the
blind. I know God will love him. I miss him terribly.


Black Diamond, Washington

Dear Mrs. Jernigan,

     Please accept my heartfelt condolences on the loss of your
husband. I was deeply saddened to read of his passing in our
local newspaper.

     I wrote to Kenneth a few years back after seeing him on a
commercial for the National Federation of the Blind. I am
sighted, but I wanted to help. We wrote back and forth for the
past few years, and I truly felt that he was a dear friend of
mine.

     I have all of the Kernel Books that he had a hand in
publishing, and I enjoyed reading his personal stories in the
beginning of the books. My son, who is two, likes to look at them
as well, and when he gets older, I look forward to telling him
what a wonderful man Kenneth was.

     I would enjoy hearing from you--please know I am thinking of
you.

Sincerely,


St. Louis, Missouri

Dear Kenneth:

     I just returned from the hospital (I was walking and a car
hit me!) and I found your letter! I have your photograph for all
to see on my Steinway, and I encourage all to support the blind
Federation. I choose very carefully who I either give or show the
cards you send.

     Now I am deeply concerned about you. After all the hard
work, determination, and love you show to others and the
incredible work you have done for the blind, it's very sad to
hear of your illness. God bless you, and always remember that you
are loved always. Your choice of a successor will be excellent,
but he will have a lot to do after all of your hard work.

     Again, we all love you and hope you are feeling well.

Love,


Copper Center, Alaska
November 25, 1998

Dear Mr. Jernigan,

     Even though I am a recent friend of the NFB, I was moved by
your positive testimony in the letter introducing us to your
successor, Dr. Maurer. Your little books have been a blessing to
me and my friends. Now your attitude of thanksgiving to God for
your productive and good life, knowing that your departure to the
next life is near, is a great encouragement and inspiration. I am
sixty-six, have enjoyed a full and satisfying life, and expect to
find the next life glorious beyond compare. There all our senses
will be heightened to perceive the beauty of the sounds, sights,
and fragrances of a place where there will be no sorrow nor
suffering, and where love and wonderful fellowship will abound...

     May God keep and bless you to the very end, which will be
your new beginning.

Sincerely,


                       The Students Speak
                           **********
     From the Editor: In the final weeks of Dr. Jernigan's life a
number of students wrote to him, and in the days following his
death there was an outpouring of recollection and calls to rally
in time of sorrow on the student division's listserv that was
touching and that must have made Dr. Jernigan's heart glad. Here
is a sample of the letters and messages:
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Jim Portillo]
                          Jim Portillo
                           **********
Greetings to Everyone,

     I definitely feel the loss of Dr. Jernigan. He meant a lot
to me as a teacher, mentor, and friend. I first heard of Dr.
Jernigan in early 1990 and wasn't sure what to think of him and
the movement known as the NFB. I then wrote him in the summer of
1990 to ask him some questions and see if he would really write
back. I was curious what he would tell me and how he would answer
my questions. To my surprise I received a prompt answer to my
letter, and that began a wonderful correspondence, which would
lead to a great friendship and teacher/student relationship. I
continued writing, and so did he. I would always inform him of
anything new that happened in my life as a high school student,
and he would always give me some of that great advice he is known
for giving. He also would criticize my letters for their grammar,
spelling, and Braille errors. I never took this criticism
harshly, though. In fact, every time I would write him, I would
want to make sure I would come as close to an error-free letter
as I could. If it wasn't errors, Dr. Jernigan would comment on my
writing, style, etc. He later told me that he did this because he
wanted my writing to be the best it could be.

     After about five years of questions and letters, Dr.
Jernigan finally convinced me to attend the 1995 NFB convention
in Chicago. As leery as I was, he helped make the trip as smooth
as possible. That's where I met him in person and where I began
learning more about myself as a blind person. He took time out to
talk to me and made sure I was OK. Every time he and Mrs.
Jernigan saw me around the convention area, they'd stop me to see
how things were going. Dr. Jernigan then told me that he and I
would have a chance to work together some time in the near
future, and that happened ten months later, in May of 1996.

     I got to spend an entire week with Dr. Jernigan. He grilled
me on English and grammar, talked to me about everything and
anything he could think of, introduced me to the Braille Lite,
and gave me an in-depth tour of the NFB and what he did. He had
me barbecue on a grill for the first time and introduced me to
fine wines and wonderful food I had not heard of or eaten. Most
of all, he planted the seed which would later sprout and make me
desire to better myself as a blind person by obtaining training
at the Louisiana Center for the Blind.

     I got to see Dr. Jernigan for the last time in July, and I'm
glad I did. I somehow was at peace with his death because I had
my chance to say goodbye to him, even though neither of us called
it that.

     He will always hold a special place in my heart. He's given
me more than I could ever imagine, and I will greatly miss him. I
will do what he said and help keep the movement alive and keep it
moving forward alongside everyone else involved with the cause.
My condolences to Mrs. Jernigan, the Maurers, and all of us
Federationists who knew and were affected by Dr. Kenneth
Jernigan. 
                                                     Jim Portillo
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Jay Wolf]
                            Jay Wolf
                           **********
                                                 October 22, 1998
A Few Good Men
                           **********
     As we all know by now, we as Federationists lost one of the
best early last week. We are all saddened by this, but I would
like to share a few thoughts about Dr. Jernigan and all he has
meant to me and every blind person in the world.

     Last week was a tough one for me. The 14th of October was
the one-year anniversary, if you will, of losing my father to
cancer, and then the news of Dr. Jernigan's death. During this
time I did a lot of thinking and priority-setting.

     Other than my father, Dr. Jernigan is probably the man that
I respected more than anyone else. He worked his entire life to
make life better for blind people in this country and around the
world. Many people have asked me, "What can we do to honor Dr.
Jernigan's life and dedication?" Well, here is my answer to them
and us all.

     We can rededicate our lives to the cause. Many times as
students we get hung up strictly on student issues and lose sight
of the big picture. Let's all make a recommitment to the NFB and
work daily on furthering our cause.

     Let's go to those local chapter meetings, those state
conventions, and of course the National Convention, but over and
above that, let's do more. Let's support each other as
Federationists, and let's support any blind person that we might
come across. Dr. Jernigan didn't care if a person was a member of
the NFB. If the blind person was being treated unfairly, he would
do what he could to remedy the situation.

     I believe that the best thing that we can do to honor a
great man is to carry on what he did so much to get started and
continue through the years. We will all miss him, so let's do Dr.
Jernigan proud.
                                                   Take care all,
                                              Jay Wolf, President
                              Texas Association of Blind Students
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Mariyam Cementwala]
                       Mariyam Cementwala
                           **********
     From the Editor: Ms. Cementwala wrote this letter to Dr.
Jernigan a few weeks before his death.
                           **********
Dear Dr. Jernigan,

     My name is Mariyam Cementwala. You may or may not recall,
but I was fortunate enough to meet you at the 1997 Convention in
New Orleans as a member of the 1997 Scholarship Class. I consider
myself extremely fortunate to have met you and to have heard your
message to us in "The Day After Civil Rights" in person, but I
believe, like many younger members of the Federation, I regret
not having the opportunity to know you better and to learn from
you in person. You leave us a legacy in your speeches and written
words which will transcend the history of the blind civil rights
movement.

     I told a friend and fellow scholarship winner that I should
and would write you this letter, and the person, also eager to
write to you, said to me, "But what do you say to a dying man?"
Many of us (young and old) don't know what to say, Sir. I know
that the five o'clock scholarship meeting at the National
Convention will never be the same. Saying that we are sorry just
doesn't cut it--and I believe it is a phrase you probably don't
want to hear. We are baffled at your strength and inspired by
your achievements. But I consider your greatest achievement not
to be getting a particular law passed so that we as blind people
can be assured that the goal of first-class citizenship is within
reach. Your exemplary devotion to fighting for your and our right
to be considered the equal of our sighted counterparts is not
what I consider your greatest achievement. Your work in founding
an organization--the largest organization in this country of
blind people fighting for themselves--which carries in it a
positive philosophy of blindness is not what I consider your
greatest achievement. Your greatest achievement isn't even, in my
opinion, the fact that you have touched and changed so many lives
of both blind and sighted people for the better.

     You, Sir, have achieved what many of us crave to achieve at
the time of death--the comfort to die in peace. Today you can go
forth into a new realm--whatever the mystery of death may be,
knowing that because of your life, because of your work, the
world is a better place and the Federation is in great hands. You
can, as we all hope to die at our time, "rest in peace," and I
don't know of any greater achievement than peace in death. You've
worked for the cause of blindness and the betterment of the lives
of blind people all your life--that goal has been your passion
and your devotion, and today--before you die--you see and reap
the fruits of your labor. Some people work all of their lives and
never see any results. Many writers and artists and poets created
masterful works and never knew the value of what they had done,
and they died miserably and unhappily. You, Sir, helped create an
organization, a philosophy, and a family; and today you see what
it is and what it has the potential to be; and you know that you
have created a masterpiece. I hope that knowledge brings you
peace. Although I realize that your final days among us may be
painful, I pray they are happy ones. Our prayers (and I say "our"
because many of us who may not have written or spoken to you
because of not knowing what to say still do keep you in our
thoughts) are always with you. Your legacy transcends your
lifetime, and your work will not go unfinished.

     My great-grandfather loved Longfellow, and right now, the
words he used to recite to me ring true in my mind. Longfellow
wrote in "A Psalm of Life":
                           **********
     Lives of great men all remind us
     We can make our lives sublime,
     And, departing, leave behind us
     Footprints on the sands of time.
                           **********
     I don't know of anyone else that I've ever met in my life
who has inscribed by his or her deeds and achievements his or her
footprints on the sands of time the way you have, and for that we
are all indebted to you. I am sorry that the blind civil rights
movement is losing a pioneer; but, God willing, new pioneers will
and must now rise to the occasion--and rest assured, Sir, we
will.
                                                       Sincerely,
                                            Mariyam A. Cementwala
                           **********
                           **********
                Words from Colleagues Old and New
                           **********
     From the Editor: Dr. Jernigan obviously made friends
wherever his drive and vision took him, but those who loved him
best were the blind people whose lives he and his work had
transformed and the sighted people with whom he worked most
closely. Here, then, is a sample of the outpouring of tributes
that have come from Federation friends:
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Peggy Elliott and Dr. Jernigan]
                          Peggy Elliott
                           **********
     From the Editor: Peggy Elliott was a student at the adult
rehabilitation program in Iowa while Dr. Jernigan was the
director of the Commission for the Blind. She is now an attorney
and Second Vice President of the National Federation of the Blind
and President of the Iowa affiliate. This is what she writes:
                           **********
     A few weeks ago in Iowa we had a whole day during which the
wind blew at thirty-five to forty-five miles per hour with gusts
up to sixty. It was a very unusual weather day. Have you ever
noticed how such days affect people? Sure, they fuss a little.
But they are energized, more alert, more focused, more interested
in talking to one another and in helping one another. Conversing
with Dr. Jernigan was like that. You never knew what to expect,
but it was always thought-provoking and stimulating, and the
effects stayed with you long after the conversation concluded.

     For years I struggled to explain and describe Dr. Jernigan
to friends who had not met him. Then I happened to read the words
that capture for me the essence of the man. I found them in what
is known as "Plato's Seventh Letter," one of the few personal
letters we have from the great Greek philosopher who lived over
2,000 years ago. Plato was one of humanity's greatest teachers.
He talks of the few young men seeking wisdom who have the mere,
tiny spark of philosophy within them and who, after long
discussion and interaction with wiser men, find that their spark
has been fanned into the bright flame of wisdom. For Plato
teaching involves transfer of knowledge over time and in
conversation. Said another way, teaching is always a community
activity, done by and among people who know each other and live
together.

     When I first read this description of teaching and learning,
I knew I had found the perfect description of Dr. Jernigan.
Unlike Plato Dr. Jernigan believed that all of us have the tiny
spark of philosophy within us. He believed that it was his
personal responsibility to fan each spark, to discuss and
demonstrate and offer explanations until the spark grew and
brightened into a flame. He did this, day in and day out, person
after person, friend and stranger alike, every minute of every
day of his life--when he was tired, when he didn't feel well. He
did it using great subjects and small. He did it as naturally and
determinedly as he breathed. And most of the time he did it with
individual blind people, one at a time, urging, cajoling,
challenging, joking, always in an effort to fan the spark. He
taught because he profoundly believed that this was the way to
change the world and to strengthen the Federation in its mission
of change.

     From the whorls of his fingerprints to the roots of his hair
to the tips of his toes, Dr. Jernigan was a teacher. He
understood what Plato discovered: that true teaching is a state
of mind that sets good examples and fosters discussion among a
group of people who develop and regularly strengthen the flame of
knowledge among them. True teaching is an ongoing human activity
in which the spark of one is fanned by the brightness of
another's flame, while two brightly burning flames intensify and
encourage each other. Federationists and friends who learned from
Dr. Jernigan learned the two most important lessons of life: if
you stop learning, life is dull, and words without people to
enliven them are boring. Dr. Jernigan was never dull, nor was he
ever boring.

     People sometimes wonder why the Federation does not have
wrenching, divisive debates and votes--why we seem to agree with
one another and to work for the same goals. It's from Dr.
Jernigan's constant instruction and his teaching us to teach and
to learn and to do both, always with each other. We work hard to
think things through together, to work with an idea until we work
out its meaning, its implications, its consequences and then to
teach others about it. To us the Federation is like the
multiplication table; you don't see kids in school debating the
answers to 12 times 8 and 9 times 6. You see them straining and
stretching to learn them. To Dr. Jernigan and to us, the
Federation is the same; using his methods, we work things out
together. Why would we then want to debate what we've all just
learned and internalized?

     Teaching was his core, and lighting fires in others was his
daily task. His most noticeable qualities--like his constant
quest for knowledge, his thirst for clarity, and his leadership--
were all in service of his real life mission: to teach. Dr.
Jernigan deeply loved his fellow human beings and urgently wanted
each of us to know, to grow, to become better and happier people.
His intense yearning to convince each of us that we did have the
spark and to fan that spark into the bright, high flame of
knowledgeable, useful human beings drove all his other work. His
need to teach changed all blind people.

     Dr. Jernigan taught in many ways. He set the example; he
created and fostered discussion; he strengthened and deepened the
community he led. Remembering the ways he did this can help us to
continue his work.

     Dr. Jernigan often taught by learning. He was on a lifetime
quest for knowledge. Of course he was a devoted lifetime reader.
His literacy led to his vast vocabulary, his commitment to
Braille, his ability to reach for and find the right quotation
for any situation. His erudition extended far beyond the written
word into the living, breathing human mind and heart. When he
conversed with people, he listened, stretching to hear what
others were thinking and feeling. I never found a subject in
which he was not interested except possibly music, a subject more
of taste than most others. But even with music he would surprise
you. I once heard him give a speech, quoting and analyzing the
protest music of the sixties, something I would have thought he
had never heard. And many of us have experienced his astonishing
collection of tunes used as a wake-up device at the National
Center for the Blind.

     He was always the first to find new foods, both in
restaurants and prepared by him in his home. And he dearly loved
trying new wines. One of my fondest memories is of a large dinner
at his house during which we covered the labels of seven kinds of
wine and taste-tested them throughout dinner. One that was pretty
raw to begin with breathed its way into a pleasant, nutty-
flavored table wine picked by him, Mrs. Jernigan, and me. When
the labels were uncovered, our choice was an inexpensive
Argentine wine that rivaled the pricier ones for taste and blend
with good food. He was overjoyed to make such a find.

     Dr. Jernigan didn't stop with mere data acquisition. From
his reading and his conversations he remembered and joined facts
into structures through which the world could be better
understood. Something he learned in 1956, for example, would fit
with something he observed in 1978, and the link produced actions
in 1997. He taught this habit of mind--reading, listening,
analyzing--to those around him as well. I don't remember a
National Board meeting which didn't conclude with his asking me
sometime in a hallway or at the side of a room: "What did you
learn this weekend?" The answer no doubt told him something about
me; it also provided him with information about what others
thought was important or interesting or new. He constantly sought
to learn so that he could better understand the world around him
and act effectively in it. He believed that knowledge resides in
both books and humans; he avidly read and studied both.

     I'll tell just a couple of the many stories I remember. Dr.
Jernigan told me about receiving a call from a well-known
Protestant bishop in Des Moines requesting an appointment without
revealing why. The bishop proposed a project on which the two
worked fruitfully and through which they became friendly. One day
they were chatting, and the bishop mentioned that he had been
afraid of Dr. Jernigan's reputation when he first made contact to
propose collaboration. Dr. Jernigan was astonished since he
believed that he had been the one nervous about the bishop's
reputation. They had a good laugh over their unfounded mutual
trepidation. Dr. Jernigan told me always to remember that the
other guy is probably much more scared of you than you are of him
or her. It works wonders for your effectiveness and is probably
often true as well. Part of his greatness was his ability to
notice both facts and feelings in himself and in others and to
remember, learn from, and openly discuss them. He was never
afraid to feel or to examine and talk about those feelings.

     Another example is much more recent, after Dr. Jernigan had
largely settled his feud with computers. He initially hated them.
I privately thought this emotion flowed from his intense love of
humanity, leading him to find computers boring. After a time he
incorporated them into his world view as machines useful in the
grinding and repetitive tasks that are hard for humans to do
accurately. I was taken off guard one day when he told me that he
was having a dispute with a high-level computer programmer. The
programmer was perfectly happy to program machines to recognize
the ones and zeros that constitute computer code, but he refused
to admit the logical extension of the ones and zeros to
humankind. Dr. Jernigan asserted that any question can be reduced
to a yes-or-no inquiry. The programmer had rejected this concept,
arguing that human events are comprised of shades of gray. Dr.
Jernigan replied that gray is still made up of black and white
and that, if a question could not be answered by yes or no, the
question simply had not been broken down into enough sub-
questions and the human needed to go back and think more
carefully about the pieces of the question. I remember laughing
and saying to him that I agreed and to myself that, as usual, he
had pierced through to both the basic truth and the human truth
more quickly and more usefully than the expert had.

     His quest for knowledge and for the truth, which is the
proper linking of knowledge was contagious. A few people resented
or were threatened by it; most of us were inspired and enriched
by it.

     Another quality that made Dr. Jernigan like an unusual
weather day was his thirst for clarity. Not only did he yearn to
know and to understand; he thirsted to communicate what he knew
to others. His perfect grammar is legendary; I remember the head
of the Jewish Braille Institute once commenting that Dr.
Jernigan's speeches were the easiest works he ever translated
into Hebrew because they were so pristine grammatically. Dr.
Jernigan sought to teach others grammar as a good discipline but,
more important, as the necessary vehicle for spoken and written
clarity of communication.

     Any blind person who wishes to understand himself or herself
and the world in which we blind people live must read Dr.
Jernigan's two speeches "Handicap or Characteristic" and
"Concepts and Misconceptions." I don't bother to say read and
understand because I don't think it's possible for a blind person
to read these two speeches without understanding them. Dr.
Jernigan takes basic concepts with which we all live and explains
them in a way that changes the way each blind person looks at
himself or herself and at the world. He didn't merely use his
skill to tell others his own private thoughts. He used words to
change people for the better.

     Dr. Jernigan's thirst for clarity taught us the truth about
ourselves and about blindness. The teaching was by no means
static. He sought to give each of us the skill to understand
words and to use them to help ourselves and others. And he
demanded of each of us that we stop thinking only of ourselves,
only of what we find easiest. He challenged us to remember all
blind people and to think of them as capable and competent.
Accepting an idea about blindness because it is easy or because
we think some blind people are incompetent is to place a lower
value on blind people, all blind people, than he was prepared to.
He insisted that we recognize the strength of working out our
views together rather than each of us believing individually that
we have all knowledge and are always right. How many times have
you heard him say that the convention is always right? He didn't
just mean that it is the final authority of the Federation; he
meant as well that we are all stronger when we work things out
together, fan each other's flames, respect the brightness of
others' insights as much as we do our own.

     Dr. Jernigan often pointed out that essentially everyone in
the blindness field uses the same language: independence, self-
esteem, doing things for ourselves. To understand what another
person or a proposal actually means regarding blind persons, he
taught us to think beyond the words, to assess the context, to
test what would be best for all blind people. And he taught us to
put our conclusions into words that would analyze, persuade,
criticize, soothe, as the situation demands.

     For example, I recently read a reference to two-for-one air
fares, that old proposal I had thought was dead under which a
blind passenger could take another person along at no extra cost.
Dr. Jernigan taught us to think beyond the greedy notion of
getting something free to the consequences of adopting such a
proposal: all sighted travelers would assume that we could not
travel independently, a notion that would undoubtedly come to
mind if they received an application for employment from a blind
person. Moreover, we would come to believe the same of ourselves.
Employment in the entire travel industry would be closed to us
since who would want to hire a person who cannot get around? His
style of thought--knowing what words mean, understanding what was
being said, and then thinking about the unspoken consequences of
the speech--is one he taught us to practice and apply to
blindness issues today such as the Americans with Disabilities
Act and services to blind college students through disabled
students offices.

     But talking about Dr. Jernigan's thirst for clarity is not
complete without mentioning his voice. It was not just a voice;
it was a musical instrument he used to enhance the blazing
clarity of his carefully chosen words so that, when he spoke
them, they plunged deep into the heart as well as the mind. Dr.
Jernigan's thirst for clarity was a fierce determination to
harness techniques to assure clear and effective communication.
He deeply loved the truth and wanted to share it as widely as he
could.

     Yet another quality that comes to mind is Dr. Jernigan's
insistence on personal responsibility. Many people mistakenly
call this his lifetime of leadership, but it was truly and only
his sense of duty to himself and to others. He never asked others
to do what he himself would not do. Many times I joined him with
a cleaning rag in the Federation's office in Iowa or the Center
in Baltimore. When other methods of persuasion failed, he was the
first to walk the picket line, seeking public recognition for an
issue in which he believed the blind were being harmed by acts
hidden from the public through obscurity or the protestations of
those who would rather take care of us than help us learn to take
care of ourselves. NAC comes readily to mind.

     His insistence on taking personal responsibility was
sometimes misunderstood as ego or the wish to be a dictator by
those whom his talent threatened. Such characterizations are as
far from the truth as Mars is from Pluto. Dr. Jernigan's
leadership came from inside, from his profound sense of
responsibility. If he was the first to identify a problem--and he
often was--if he was the first to think of solutions--and he
usually was--then he should be the first to act upon his
knowledge and the first to seek others to work with him to bring
about change.

     We've all heard the story about the chapter near his home in
California. He was told that it consisted of old blind people and
a few helpless ones and that he didn't need to bother attending.
His work at the state and national levels was sufficient. He
began attending anyway and found good people who didn't know what
to do to cause change and who were delighted to follow his lead.
He developed programs, raised funds, attracted lively new people,
and built the chapter to over a hundred people and the happening
place for the blind of the Bay Area. He did it because he thought
he should.

     He went on to apply himself to work with the blind in
earnest and, quite simply, transformed it. What he personally saw
as flaws he eliminated, and what he perceived as opportunities he
developed. In California he began the re-thinking of orientation
and adjustment training, which he completed in Iowa. Though he
was administering a multi-million-dollar agency there with
numerous programs, he visited each class of the orientation
center whenever he was in the building. We students hoped he
would come and approve when we were doing well; we dreaded his
coming if we were having an off day.

     The key to his success was his personal involvement as a
role model and spur. Living in the building where the center was
located gave him the chance to do early morning work-outs with
reluctant, sleepy students or to invite us for dinner. I remember
refusing the first dinner invitation he offered, and he
immediately asked me to come the next night. I refused. He asked
about the night after that one and pointed out that he was going
to keep asking until I accepted. I quickly came to treasure each
invitation and to connive for more. He insisted on personal
contact and on pushing himself and us to try new things like
cutting firewood or barbecuing burgers or jogging on downtown Des
Moines's dawn sidewalks. Doing so day in and day out, he changed
our lives and also changed work with the blind.

     Before his arrival Iowa had no library for the blind. Dr.
Jernigan founded one, and it rapidly became the best in the world
because he always wanted more and more books and more and more
Braille. His personal devotion to reading yielded an
internationally famous library that set the standard for consumer
responsiveness and creation of books. He changed rehab. Blind
people seeking work were asked what they wanted to do, never told
what few options were available. At first this was revolutionary
and unheard-of. Now it is federal law. Believing deeply in blind
people himself, he applied his thoughts to programs for the blind
and made his personal beliefs into the professional standards of
good practice today.

     Dr. Jernigan reserved his scorn for the whiner and the
critic. He could not understand how someone could know that
personal change is possible and choose to complain about his or
her lot instead of investing time and effort to change and grow.
Neither could he understand how anyone could criticize and stop
there. Whether the critic was aiming at the Federation or at
agencies for the blind or something else, his constant query was:
What have you done to change what you don't like? Words without
action were incomprehensible to him. The responsibility to act
was as sacred to him as the duty to think before acting.

     Yet Dr. Jernigan also believed that he had a responsibility
to treat all others with politeness and courtesy even if they
were not doing so to him. He reserved his scorn for the generic,
as you can read in the conclusion to his towering 1971 convention
banquet speech. I remember many discussions with him in which I
said that someone had "made me mad." He would chide me, saying
leaders do not have the luxury of anger. The leader's job is to
lead everybody, even people who make one mad.

     I remember once at a National Convention an ill-tempered
member chose to heckle Dr. Jernigan from the floor while he was
presiding. She was entirely out of order, but Dr. Jernigan asked
her to go to a mike. She replied nastily that he could perfectly
well hear her and that it was inconvenient for her to go to a
mike. She then re-commenced the heckling. Dr. Jernigan several
times tried to engage her in discussion. She was having none of
it. The rest of us could not hear her and, from his amplified
comments, didn't want to. We wanted her to shut up. Dr. Jernigan
finally snapped and told the woman in no uncertain terms to be
seated and be quiet. We all applauded. This happened shortly
before the lunch break.

     Dr. Jernigan opened the afternoon session in his quietest,
most earnest tone by saying that something had happened before
lunch that had never happened before and for which he was very
sorry. He humbly apologized to the woman and to the rest of us
for losing his temper and showing anger while presiding. He went
into great detail about his error and his regret. I remember at
first thinking, as I had that morning, that I was just glad the
woman had been silenced. As I listened, I understood his deeper
meaning--he himself had failed his own standard and was compelled
to explain and apologize.

     Since that day I have used his standard as my own in
chairing, believing that I should treat people as they ought to
be treated and not as they sometimes deserve. Neither he nor I
agreed with the woman's point nor her method for making it nor
her long record of doing nothing but criticizing others. But he
taught me that I could disagree with a person while treating her
at all times with courtesy. My duty was to maintain that rule
even if others broke it.

     Dr. Jernigan's habit of leadership sprang from his deep
sense of personal responsibility. He blamed himself if things
went wrong, planned ahead to avoid problems, and worked to
convince others to join him in both identifying the problem and
agreeing on the solution. We know why he was our leader: he
blamed himself more, planned better, and worked harder than
anyone else.

     I have been taught by and worked beside Dr. Jernigan since I
was a scared, newly-blinded teenager. I now have a blind teenage
friend in Iowa who was born after Dr. Jernigan left Iowa and
after he no longer served as our elected president. Of course she
has met Dr. Jernigan, but she is now moving into the tough years
of learning and growing, and she will have to do it without
having him beside her as I did. Did he teach us well enough? Have
we learned enough? I hope so for Kallie's sake.

     It is now our job to do for others what he did for us and
with us for so long, sometimes over our objections. It is now our
turn to find in Kallie and others like her that spark of
potential Dr. Jernigan believed is in all of us and to fan that
spark into the flame of knowledge and personal responsibility.
Dr. Jernigan's legacy to us is work and belief and the intense
conviction that every blind person has that spark. I know Kallie
does, and we're fanning it as fast as we can.

     In the hearts and minds of all of us who loved him Dr.
Jernigan fanned our sparks into a collection of flames that has
lit the future of blind people with new possibilities. To keep
those flames burning and to ignite others, each of us can study
his gifts and his methods and incorporate them into our lives and
works. He taught us to know who we are. He taught us to say that
we will never go back. He also taught us to teach others and to
learn from others and to continue solving problems together
because, if we do not, the flames will dim and the light fade
away. In another of his great banquet speeches, the one in 1983,
Dr. Jernigan described the function of inertia as it applies to
organizations. Read his words for both comfort and challenge.
They tell us what to do:

     "Consider the word inertia. . . . When most of us think of
inertia, we think of something not moving, something inert--and
it is not just the physical but also the social. The dictionary
tells us that inertia means "lack of skill, idleness, laziness."
But this is only half of the meaning. There is the other half of
the meaning. The full definition is this: things at rest tend to
remain at rest, and things in motion tend to remain in motion, at
a uniform rate and in a straight line. The only way to change the
inertia of an object is by pressure. It is as hard to stop
something which is moving as it is to start something which is
not.

     "When the blind came to organize in 1940, the situation was
about as bad as it could possibly be. It was almost static. It
was worse than static, for there was enough motion to tantalize
but not enough to encourage or stimulate hope. At the pace of
1940 it would have taken generations (perhaps centuries) for the
blind to achieve meaningful lives and real opportunity--and a
promise which is measured by centuries is no promise at all. It
is only a shadow and a mockery.

     "Then everything changed. Dr. Jacobus tenBroek and a handful
of others organized the National Federation of the Blind.
Suddenly it was not centuries but decades--and, yes, something
for the blind of that generation, something for the blind then
alive. In the beginning the force of inertia worked against us
(things at rest tend to remain at rest); but pressure was
applied, and the acceleration was noticeable and immediate. Of
course, at first, the progress was slow (it always is). The
situation was aggravated by the mass involved, for with a given
pressure the build-up is always in direct proportion to the mass
which has to be moved. And the mass which we had to move was
tremendous. It was all of society--all of it (including
ourselves): society--with its accumulated stereotypes,
misconceptions, and prejudices; society--with its mistaken ideas
and freaky notions about blindness going back to the dawn of
history, ideas and notions imbedded in literature, locked in folk
lore, and sanctified by tradition.

     "We should keep in mind the basic principle: `The only way
to change the inertia of an object is by pressure. It is as hard
to stop something which is moving as it is to start something
which is not.' That is the rule, and it is as immutable for
organizations as for objects. By the terms of inertia no pressure
is ever lost. For forty-three years we have worked and struggled
to accelerate our movement and send it in a straight line toward
freedom and independence. The efforts of tens of thousands of
blind men and women have been spent for almost two generations to
reach the current momentum. I can tell you from firsthand
experience that during this time we have moved an awful lot of
mass. It would take as much pressure and effort to stop our
progress and push us back to 1940 as it has taken us to get where
we are. . . . There is no force on earth that can do it. We can
summon the strength to resist any conceivable pressure which
would slow our acceleration and push us back. . . . Equality will
not (perhaps cannot) be given to us. If we want it, we must take
it. . . . We are simply no longer willing to be second-class
citizens. We want no strife or confrontation, but we will do what
we have to do. To the extent required, we will meet pressure with
pressure and force with force. We know who we are, and we will
never go back."
                           **********
     Every time we remember him, we must re-take that vow and
with it re-commit ourselves to teaching and learning and solving.
The very best way we can remember him is to say: "We know who we
are, and we will never go back. We will seek the truth and we
will speak the truth and we will take the responsibility to
ourselves for linking words and actions. And above all we will
teach and learn. We will keep it up until the job is done. We
promise."
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Michael Baillif]
                         A Hero among Us
                       by Michael Baillif
                           **********
     From the Editor: Michael Baillif was an NFB scholarship
winner in 1984. He had just graduated from high school. Having
embraced the Federation's philosophy and acquired its training,
he went on to graduate from a prestigious college, travel in
Europe on a Watson Fellowship, and graduate from Yale Law School.
Today he is a tax attorney at Davis, Polk, and Wardwell, a New
York law firm with an international reputation. Here are his
remarks from the memorial service:
                           **********
     Perhaps the greatest gift that Doctor Jernigan gave to us,
both as individuals and as a movement, was his heroism. For make
no mistake, Dr. Jernigan was and is a hero who, although very
much human, was also larger than life. He set the standard; he
showed us who we could be and what we could do.

     Dr. Jernigan built furniture and sold insurance and created
a training center for blind people--so we knew we could do those
things. He barbecued steaks and held wine tastings and made
numerous people feel comfortable in his beautiful home--so we
knew we could do those things. He was a statesman and a thinker
of great thoughts and a builder of people and places like the
National Center for the Blind. Because he did these things, we
now know that we can do them too, not necessarily as individuals,
but together, as a collective movement.

     Dr. Jernigan, like his mentor Dr. tenBroek, was first and
foremost a teacher who built this organization one member at a
time. Dr. Jernigan had an incalculable formative impact on many
of the people we now call friends and colleagues, in some cases
even heroes in their own right. In particular I think of Dr.
Maurer, who was Dr. Jernigan's hand-picked successor and whose
strong leadership in these potentially difficult times has once
again borne witness to Dr. Jernigan's wisdom and farsightedness.
This time, which could have been so hard, instead will be
remembered as a time of unity and celebration within our family.
What greater tribute could there be to Dr. Maurer and to Dr.
Jernigan, who set the stage, even in his final days?

     For no man better understood the power of the symbol than
Dr. Jernigan. For decades he has been, and will continue to be,
our symbol: a symbol of strength and achievement and authority--
tough sometimes, loving always.

     Being a symbol carries with it a high price, and Dr.
Jernigan sacrificed more for this organization, more for us, than
he ever let on. Nevertheless, he accepted the mantle of hero, of
symbol, with apparent ease and performed with zest and grace and
honor that the role came to fit him as well as one of his tailor-
made suits.

     So now we are left with all that Dr. Jernigan symbolizes to
guide us as we go forward, and go forward we shall. When Dr.
Jernigan wanted someone to get moving in order to get something
done, he was fond of saying, "Go man, go!" Well, I am sure that
somewhere Dr. Jernigan is saying that to us right now.

     So we will continue to march, and he shall be in the
forefront. For heroes, such as Dr. Jernigan, never pass away.
They remain in our hearts and lead us into the future.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Steve Benson]
                     Convention Reflections
                      by Stephen O. Benson
                           **********
     As I sit at my desk on this Sunday, October 11, reviewing
all the details of the agenda and other arrangements for the 1998
convention of the NFB of Illinois, I reflect on Dr. Jernigan's
masterly management of convention arrangements for our
increasingly complex national assemblies, our gathering of the
clans. Dr. Jernigan has referred to the Federation as a family.
But he was quick to remind us that we are the most effective
political force in the field of blindness and that we should
never be deterred from using that force to improve the quality of
life for blind people.

     The Federation's conventions are exercises in democracy, the
ultimate collective voice of the organized blind at work, the
site of vigorous debate that shapes and establishes policy.
People come to conventions to get their batteries recharged, to
renew or nurture long-term friendships, to find mates, to engage
in serious discussion, to learn and to teach, to relax, and to
put ideas into action. Federation conventions change people's
lives. National Federation of the Blind conventions are the most
energetic, result-oriented, rewarding meetings I have ever
attended.

     I began learning about organizing and managing meetings as a
Boy Scout. As a teenager I organized neighborhood clubs for kids
my age, and I organized and scheduled chess tournaments for two
or three summers. As a member of student councils and service
organizations in high school and as a college fraternity
president and delegate to the Interfraternity Council, I honed my
meeting management skills. But it wasn't until I joined the
Federation and began to study Dr. Jernigan's mastery of meeting
planning, strategies, and management; his civility under
pressure; his ability to hold adversaries' feet to the fire; and
his patience that I really began to understand how a meeting
should be conducted. Once I began to understand his method, I
watched ever more intently, knowing that here was an opportunity
to learn at the feet of one of the best at the craft. Then I
attempted to emulate him.

     As an important part of this learning process, I have
closely studied Dr. Jernigan's speeches and his delivery of them.
A serious student of public speaking could watch Dr. Jernigan and
learn about precise cadence, timing, inflection, tone,
appropriate use of humor, pathos, incredulity, declamation, and
the imperative. Dr. Jernigan's speeches are informative,
inspiring, and irresistible calls to action. It is difficult to
imagine that anybody could walk away unmoved from a Jernigan
speech, live or recorded.

     At our 1995 National Convention the Illinois affiliate
arranged to have a bagpipe band pipe in the convention. As I said
in my welcoming remarks, "No gathering of the Scottish clans
would be complete without these sounds." Whenever I plan
conventions, whenever I think of Dr. Jernigan, I will always feel
and hear the sound of pipes and drums as we heard them in that
jubilant entry into our convention hall on Tuesday morning, July
4, 1995. Those of us who have been privileged to know Kenneth
Jernigan will long remember that day and will always remember him
in the echoes of the moving strains of "Amazing Grace."
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Tom Bickford accompanies Lloyd Rasmussen on
guitar as Lloyd sings the "Technology Song" during the memorial
service.]
                         Thomas Bickford
                           **********
     From the Editor: The following recollection was submitted to
the Braille Monitor.
                           **********
     I first met Kenneth Jernigan in 1955. I was a blind college
student in California, and rehab referred me to the orientation
center in Oakland. We were young then, both in our twenties. He
looked young too, though he didn't like to be told so. As the
years went by, he grew to feel the weight of responsibility and
the power of authority, and he learned to carry those burdens
with dignity and wisdom.

     In our first interview we talked about independent travel. I
finally asked, "Do you mean that you would take your cane and fly
to Japan?"

     He answered simply, "Yes." I didn't believe him, and I am
sure he knew it without my saying so. But he made a believer out
of me. Since then I have traveled alone by every means of modern
transportation from Oakland to Russia and back and through plenty
of places in between. And I, who graduated from college hating to
write, through the Federation have become a published author on
the subject of cane travel.

     Kenneth Jernigan was not the administrator of the center,
but just by his personality he was the spiritual and
philosophical leader. He taught several classes, but the most
important one was called "Business Methods and Procedures." We
discussed ideas about blindness, ours and society's. Each day he
would pick on a particular subject and often on a particular
student, and he would grill us on our attitudes and beliefs. We
learned and changed and put these beliefs to work in our own
lives. We worked hard, we thought hard, and at the right times we
played hard. Kenneth Jernigan was there with us, leading by
example.

     When the orientation students were inspired to plan an
overnight camping trip, he joined us, leading a hike over the
hills and barefoot through a running stream. That was the trip
when one of the students, a former logger, brought his climbing
rig and went up a big tree, the incident we heard celebrated in
the "even I" story [in the Kernel Book To Touch the Untouchable
Dream.]

     Among his many characteristics Kenneth Jernigan was eager,
energetic, enthusiastic, idealistic, and practical. At least one
time his idealism got ahead of his practicality. He brought me to
Iowa and tried to make a rehab counselor out of me. I wasn't a
good one, and we both knew it. We parted company as employer and
employee on good terms.

     He taught me that to improve my own lot in life I had to
work through the National Federation of the Blind to improve the
lives of other blind people. He taught me how to live a good
life, and I have.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Don and Betty Capps stand with Dr. Jernigan
aboard the Queen Elizabeth II.]
                         Donald C. Capps
                           **********
     From the Editor: Don Capps has served longer on the NFB
Board of Directors than anyone else. Dr. Jernigan was a close
friend and formative influence in his life for more than forty
years. Don wrote about his recollections of Dr. Jernigan in the
Winter, 1998, issue of the Palmetto Blind, the publication of the
National Federation of the Blind of South Carolina. Here are
excerpts from what he said:
                           **********
     Over the years Dr. Jernigan made many trips to South
Carolina and always seemed to enjoy his visits in the Palmetto
State. In the 1960's Dr. Jernigan and his parents spent several
Thanksgivings with Betty and me.

     He was very observant. Before his Thanksgiving visits Betty
would give the house a good cleaning, dusting everything, since
she knew Dr. Jernigan would check out things while visiting us.
He not only relied upon his great intellect but also his hands to
learn, and learn he did. Using his long white cane, Dr. Jernigan,
who enjoyed the out-of-doors, identified every tree in our yard.

     He also loved children. During his Thanksgiving visits with
us in the 1960's our two children, Beth and Craig, were small,
but they still remember the good times they had with Dr.
Jernigan, who would always accompany them to the nearby city
park. He would ride on the swings and the see-saw with them.

     Betty and I always enjoyed Dr. Jernigan's visits. We knew he
enjoyed good food, and he especially liked Betty's fried chicken.
We would always have two elderly sisters, Aunt Lelia and Aunt
Mattie, who babysat for Beth and Craig, bake a nine-layer
chocolate cake for Dr. Jernigan and his parents.

     Growing up in rural Tennessee, Dr. Jernigan understood and
appreciated Southern culture and down-home cooking. In the 1970's
Columbians were introduced to Lizard's Thicket, considered by
most to be the premiere restaurant in the area for down-home
cooking. Each time Dr. Jernigan visited with us, we made sure to
dine at Lizard's Thicket. Though the entree included three
vegetables, Dr. Jernigan always ordered at least six and ate them
all. We cherish these memories.

     Dr. Jernigan had a tremendous impact upon state programs for
the blind in South Carolina. At our 1964 state convention in
Charleston, we adopted a resolution calling for the creation of a
Commission for the Blind. When this legislation was introduced in
1965, it set off a storm of opposition from the sheltered
workshop and the Division for the Blind of the South Carolina
Department of Public Welfare. In 1965 our state organization was
small and not very strong. We had our work cut out for us.
However, we knew that Dr. Jernigan was an expert on commissions
for the blind since he had been appointed Executive Director of
the Iowa Commission for the Blind in 1958. In 1965 the
Legislature could not agree upon the merits of creating a
Commission.

     However, it did establish a nine-member legislative study
committee to consider the advisability and feasibility of
establishing a commission for the blind. Our long-time friend,
Earle E. Morris, Jr., was then a member of the South Carolina
Senate and was elected chairman of the study committee. Senator
Morris held several hearings across the state concerning the
commission bill. Ultimately the committee invited Dr. Jernigan to
testify. In November of 1965 he traveled to Columbia and made an
outstanding presentation to the legislative study committee,
after which the nine members voted unanimously to recommend the
creation of the Commission for the Blind. Several of the members
told me directly that Dr. Jernigan had absolutely convinced them.
Incidentally, two committee members were invited to visit the
Iowa Commission for the Blind and did so. This was also highly
influential in the committee's recommendation to establish a
Commission. 

     Dr. Jernigan was NFB president in 1969 when the National
Convention was held in Columbia. He demonstrated his care for
South Carolina and its leaders. One nationally known speaker on
the convention agenda informed Dr. Jernigan that he planned to
attack Senator Strom Thurmond, primarily because the two had
different political views. Dr. Jernigan quickly and clearly
advised the speaker that in that case he would not be permitted
to address the convention.

     During that same convention a reception was given at the
governor's mansion with a receiving line headed by Governor
Robert E. McNair. It was the first time that any Governor had
given a reception at the official residence for an NFB
convention, and Dr. Jernigan was very proud of that occurrence.
Shortly after the 1969 convention we traveled with Dr. Jernigan
to Washington to seek Senator Thurmond's assistance. In the
1960's the NFB's primary fund-raising involved unordered
merchandise such as greeting cards and neckties. Several
officials of the IRS wanted to tax this project, a ruling that we
believed was inappropriate and illegal.

     We discussed this situation with Senator Thurmond, who
requested that Dr. Jernigan write an appropriate letter. He would
then place it on his official letterhead and send it to the
Commissioner of the IRS. Senator Thurmond was as good as his
word, and he did not change a single word of the letter Dr.
Jernigan drafted for him. The IRS Commissioner, who was from
Greenville, South Carolina, never gave the NFB any further
trouble. 

     Betty and I were fortunate enough to travel abroad with Dr.
Jernigan on several occasions. In 1988 and 1992 we traveled with
Dr. Jernigan to World Blind Union conferences held in Madrid and
Cairo. In 1989 Betty and I joined Dr. and Mrs. Jernigan for a
voyage on the Queen Elizabeth II to England in celebration of our
fortieth wedding anniversary. During this trip we traveled with
Dr. and Mrs. Jernigan to Suffolk, England, where we visited Dr.
Jernigan's ancestral home at Somerleyton Hall, which is actually
a castle. A member of the British House of Lords now resides
there. He gave a delightful luncheon in Dr. Jernigan's honor at
Somerleyton Hall. We also visited the church where several of Dr.
Jernigan's ancestors are entombed.

     Our last trip with Dr. Jernigan occurred in October of 1997
as we once again boarded the QE2 in New York City for a voyage
back to England. Unfortunately, during that trip Dr. Jernigan
became seriously ill and was hospitalized for several days in
Paris.

      The first of November, 1997, Dr. Jernigan, Mrs. Jernigan,
Betty, and I boarded the Concorde in London and flew back to New
York City in slightly more than three hours.

     Dr. Jernigan was both thoughtful and caring about others. He
was especially fond of Betty. When we visited him in Baltimore,
at National Conventions, or other places, he always had a music
box for Betty's collection. He would say to her, "I have a pretty
for you." Betty proudly displays many of these music boxes in our
home. When we visited with Dr. Jernigan in Banner Elk, North
Carolina, while he was receiving alternative treatment, he once
again said to Betty, "I have a pretty for you." When he had heard
that we were coming, he had his secretary send him a music box
for Betty. The last music box he gave her was at the 1998 Dallas
convention. He was also generous to me. He often remembered me
with a gift when he traveled abroad. One treasured gift is
beautiful cuff links, which I wear on special occasions.

     Sometimes when we visited Dr. Jernigan, especially in his
National Center Office, he would say to us, "I have squirreled
away some goodies." He would then serve us chocolates or
macadamia nuts.

     Dr. Jernigan was sensitive to the special needs of people.
When Hurricane Hugo caused tremendous damage in 1989, several
blind families were victims. Upon learning of this Dr. Jernigan
sent a check for $10,000 to assist the blind people who had
suffered from the hurricane.

     Even in moments of distress Dr. Jernigan could be humorous.
While attending the 1988 Thanksgiving meeting of the NFB Board of
Directors in Baltimore, our new 1988 Cadillac was stolen from in
front of the National Center. Learning of this, Dr. Jernigan
quipped, "Well Don, whoever stole it had good taste." Shortly
after telling him that we could replace the car but not the
several cases of cassette tapes of music we had recorded, we
received copies of most of his favorite cassette tapes featuring
Bing Crosby, our favorite, and others. Dr. Jernigan also knew
when to respond without being asked. In May of 1997, when Betty
had a serious fall while visiting our son Craig in New York City,
Dr. Jernigan sent Craig Gildner, who reads the Braille Monitor,
to New York City to drive us back to Columbia as soon as Betty
was able to travel. You don't forget that kind of kindness.

     Dr. Jernigan had many rare qualities including tremendous
charisma and a magnetic personality. Never have I seen anyone
with better and more ideas than he demonstrated throughout his
life. He was very creative and was an intellectual giant. The
book of life will require many chapters to cover the innumerable
accomplishments of Dr. Kenneth Jernigan. His life made our lives
much better.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Nell Carney]
     Dr. Kenneth Jernigan: My Teacher, My Mentor, My Friend
                     by Nell Cardwell Carney
                           **********
     From the Editor: Dr. Nell Carney is one of the lucky people
who can remember what it was like to have Dr. Jernigan as an
English teacher at the Tennessee School for the Blind. She and he
were friends for many years. Following are first a letter she
wrote to him last year and then the remarks she prepared for
presentation during the memorial service. Here they are:
                           **********
                                       Wilmington, North Carolina
                                                February 19, 1998
                           **********
Dr. Kenneth Jernigan
Baltimore, Maryland
                           **********
Dear Dr. Jernigan:

     When I was a young student at the Tennessee School for the
Blind, it was my good fortune to be placed in your English class.
Before your arrival at the school, no one had challenged the
students to perform at our maximum potential. All of that changed
when you arrived. We needed a teacher, and you were there.

     It wasn't very long before we realized that you were
teaching us much more than English. You taught us that it was
respectable to be blind. You taught us that with self-esteem and
hard work we could attain any goals we set for ourselves. We
needed a role model, and you were there.

     As we grew older, many of us joined the organized blind
movement in the 1960's. We joined you on the barricades although
we were often frightened and felt inadequate to face the
challenges. We looked to you, and you moved boldly forward,
leading us onward. We needed a leader, and you were there.

     There are no words to describe the influence that you
personally have had on the lives of tens of thousands of blind
people, young and old, rich and poor. Because of your belief in
blind people, your personal encouragement, your leadership, and
your relentless pursuit of opportunities and equality for blind
people, many of us have achieved goals far beyond our grandest
imagination. We needed a friend, and you were there.

     I love you because of what you have meant to my life
personally. I respect you for the great courage you have shown
and continue to show in the face of tremendous challenge. I
admire you for the leadership you have shown to the nation and
world.

     I pray every day for your recovery, your comfort, and your
peace.
                           **********
                                                   Nell C. Carney
                                  Carney & Associates Consultants
                           **********
     I met Dr. Kenneth Jernigan when I was a young child at the
Tennessee School for the Blind. He was the first successful blind
person I had ever met. He was young and handsome and self-
confident. It did not take the students long to learn that there
was much more to Dr. Jernigan than dashing good looks and poise.

     In his classroom we learned much more than English and
communications skills--we learned the true meaning of
responsibility. He taught us to be responsible for our own
behavior and responsible for our own future. He taught us that it
was respectable to be blind and that using alternative techniques
so that we could be competitive with our sighted peers was the
right thing to do.

     Dr. Jernigan always insisted that we bring our slates and
styluses to class. Periodically he would go from desk to desk and
ask to see either one. If we didn't have one or both, we knew we
were in trouble. He would punish us--not mean punishment. He
would write a very long and complicated sentence and have us
figure out the punctuation and then write it twenty-five times
with the slate and stylus. Further, to make our minds work while
we were physically writing, the sentence would always be a
philosophical statement or a commentary on political or social
events.

     In Dr. Jernigan's classes we made speeches, had spelling
contests, and memorized and recited Shakespeare and many English
and American poets. One year he divided the student body into two
groups--the cats and the dogs. The dogs had cards that said "dog"
and the cats had cards that said "cat." If a member of one group
caught a member of the other group making a grammatical error,
the offender had to give the person who caught the error a card.
The group that ended up with the most cards from the opposing
team won the game, and Dr. Jernigan had a cook-out for the group.
We learned a lot of grammar that year.

     When I was in the seventh grade, Dr. Jernigan called me in
and told me that he had to decide who would get the award for
English that year. He went on to say that I was probably his top
English student, but he was not going to give the award to me
because I would have many more chances since I was only in the
seventh grade. I was so angry I left his classroom in a huff,
slamming the door shut with all my might. He came behind me down
the hallway and asked that I return to his room. Once inside the
classroom he said to me, "You may leave now. Please close the
door like the lady I know you are."

     When Tennessee was organized in 1969 as an affiliate of the
NFB, Dr. Jernigan suggested to me that I run for President. I
did, and I won. He became my mentor and worked tirelessly with me
to develop the leadership skills I needed to head the affiliate.
It was during the organizing in Tennessee that the affiliate name
"NFB of ______" was created.

     In those days the Federation was not the mighty power it is
today. Many of us were young and inexperienced, but Dr. Jernigan
was our strength and our courage. No matter how harsh the battle
nor how short the time, he was always there for me and many
others whenever we needed him. He would say: "Meet me on the
barricades, and we can make it all come true!" And we would rally
around him although I can remember feeling afraid and unsure of
myself. But he was there for us.

     When Dr. Jernigan was in Iowa and I was in Tennessee, he
used to come home for Christmas, and we would meet him at his
family farm for dinner. He was as proud of that old farmhouse as
if it had been a castle. He would show off little things--tables
he had made, a toy he played with when he was a child. Once we
were having dinner, and his aunt told how much Dr. Jernigan had
liked boiled cabbage and boiled potatoes when he was a young
child. His response was that he still liked them; he just
couldn't ever get them.

     Over the years I followed the Federation at various paces--
sometimes far, far behind. The times when I was distanced from
the Federation, Dr. Jernigan would say to me every time we
talked: "If I can help you in any way, all you have to do is call
me." And I did many times, and he always responded with love and
support. He was the best friend I have ever had.

     When I was Commissioner of the Rehabilitation Services
Administration, Dr. Jernigan and I talked often, but he never
tried to tell me what to do. When I asked for his advice, he gave
it thoughtfully. Together he and I decided that there should be a
national policy about scholarships for blind students; so there
is one today because of the support he gave to me in getting the
policy into the federal policy manual.

     During the four turbulent years I spent in Mississippi as
Executive Director of the rehabilitation program, Dr. Jernigan
was my strength and my support. I found it necessary to draw on
his friendship many times, and he always responded with wisdom
and caring.

     When I was offered my present position, Superintendent of
the New Mexico School for the Visually Handicapped, I telephoned
Dr. Jernigan to tell him. He was very, very ill by then. But
instead of talking about himself, he told me that I had made him
very happy and very proud.

     Dr. Jernigan taught me that it was respectable to be blind.
He taught me to take responsibility for myself and for others. He
taught me courage. He taught me the meaning of friendship.  In
the words of Peggy Pinder Elliott, "he taught me how to be."

     The values that Dr. Jernigan taught me when I was a child at
the Tennessee School for the Blind have been my guideposts
throughout my lifetime. All that is good and acceptable about me
I learned from him.

     I look at the students on the campus here in Alamogordo; and
I think, if I can give to one or two of them what Dr. Jernigan
gave to me, my time here will have been well spent. As long as I
live, his teaching will be here. His spirit is with each of us
and among all of us.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Marsha Dyer and Dr. Jernigan sitting on the
platform at National Convention]
             Of Grammar Lessons and Gold Tie Chains
                         by Marsha Dyer
                           **********
     From the Editor: When I became Associate Editor of the
Braille Monitor, I began spending significant stretches of time
in Dr. Jernigan's office, watching him conduct business and
particularly observing him write: letters, memos, and especially
articles. He dictated them, and though he often reread and
polished the text using a Braille copy of his original dictation,
he turned out amazingly superb copy sitting at his desk or pacing
around his office. His secretary would frantically take dictation
and read back the text on demand. He would make changes or cross
out a sentence and begin again. I couldn't imagine how anyone
ever kept it all straight and transcribed it.

     The women who worked through the years as Dr. Jernigan's
secretaries came to know him and his preferences in a way that
very few other people had the opportunity to. Mrs. Dyer--calm,
efficient, warm, and conscientious--was Dr. Jernigan's secretary
for the last two years of his life. In the following article she
remembers what it was like to work hour in and hour out with one
of the most remarkable men of his day.
                           **********
     I first walked through the doors of 1800 Johnson Street in
late September, 1990. I had an employment interview with Mr.
Anthony Cobb. The initial meeting went fairly well, and about a
week later Mr. Cobb asked me to return for a second interview.
This time, he said, I was to meet with Dr. Kenneth Jernigan. I
had no idea how to interact with a blind person, so I was more
than a little nervous about this second interview.

     I remember sitting in the lobby on the day of my
appointment. A very distinguished looking older man came around
the corner to enter the lobby area. I thought to myself, if this
isn't Dr. Jernigan, it should be. And, of course, it was. He was
wearing a tailored suit, white long-collared starched shirt with
cuff-linked sleeves, four-point starched handkerchief in his
breast pocket, silk tie, gold tie chain, and an NFB pin in his
lapel. (Dr. Jernigan later referred to this as his uniform.) He
stopped as he came around the corner and simply said "Mrs. Dyer?"
I said that I was Mrs. Dyer, and I went over to shake his out-
stretched hand. He then asked me to follow him to his office, and
off we went.

     Dr. Jernigan's office, I discovered, was a lot like him--
very structured and masculine. His office had a dark maroon
leather sofa against one wall with two matching chairs against
the facing wall. And there was this wonderful smell of fine
after-shave in the air. He sat behind his desk and offered me the
chair which sits directly in front of his desk. He explained to
me about the NFB and what the organization was about--and then he
asked me a few questions: "What, do you think, is the
circumference of the earth?" "When did the Civil War start and
where?" "What is the longest river in the United States?" "Who
wrote Gone With The Wind?" "How do you spell supersede?" It went
on for what seemed like hours but must have been only a few
minutes. 

     Dr. Jernigan then did something I never saw him do again. He
stood up, got his cane (which he always kept in the corner behind
his desk)--and dropped it on the floor. He hesitated for a few
seconds and then picked it up. Looking back, I think he dropped
his cane on purpose to see what I would do about it. I did
nothing. And I got the position.

     I moved from the Records Center and became Dr. Jernigan's
personal secretary in October, 1996. I suppose I have witnessed
most of his distinguishing qualities at one time or another. I
knew him to be gentle, firm, forceful, persuasive, kind, and
giving; and he could be downright shrewd when it came to
bargaining for convention room rates. But I never saw him truly
angry about something or anybody. Maybe that is one of the
reasons why he never had a single headache in his entire life. He
was a firm believer in doing what you were able to do, and if it
didn't work, then try something else. He loved to set a game plan
in motion and to see if it turned out the way he thought it
should. It usually did. Two of his many truly remarkable gifts
were timing and intellect, and he exercised these with delight
and gusto on many occasions. 

     Dr. Jernigan was a noted English and history scholar. One
day, when I had been working at the Federation for about three
years, I said something like this: "Now there's only you and me."
I was asked what I thought was incorrect with the sentence I had
just said. I replied that I didn't realize anything had been
wrong with it. That little 6-word sentence led to a year's
tutelage with Dr. Jernigan in grammar lessons. He enjoyed every
minute of our weekly late Tuesday-afternoon sessions because he
was a born instructor. I can't say I enjoyed them completely, but
I was amazed that he would take his time to teach me, and I was
very grateful for that. Dr. Jernigan's philosophy with grammar
was that if a person can express himself or herself properly, it
followed that the person's thought patterns would also be more
distinct.

     Dr. Jernigan enjoyed fine wine (I think he was partial to
red wines, especially Cabernets), and he collected old radio
programs, such as "Vic and Sade." He and Mrs. Jernigan delighted
in planning elaborate dinner parties or having people over for
cookouts, where Dr. Jernigan would charge up the grill and cook
the most delicious, mouth-watering steaks you would ever hope to
eat. One of his great passions was giving blind children the
opportunity and right to learn Braille if they wanted or needed
it. Another was developing the plans and drawings for our new
building. He also liked to browse through catalogs and purchase
unusual objects and gifts. He enjoyed lemon only in his iced tea
and a little cream in his Starbuck's Sumatra coffee. He had a
wonderful way of making you feel as if what you were saying to
him was the most important thing on his mind. And it was. If he
discovered something that he liked, such as hair cream, he would
buy a life-time supply of it. And he was forever offering me the
candy he kept on his desk. "Mrs. Dyer," he would say with a
twinkle in his eye, "if you don't eat this candy, I'm going to
have to throw it away." It's a wonder I didn't gain fifty pounds.
Oh, how I miss him.

     It is a well-known fact that Dr. Jernigan did not enjoy
traveling in an airplane, to put it mildly. But travel he did. In
recent years various Federation and World Blind Union meetings
kept him and Mrs. Jernigan away a great deal of the time. In
1997, before he became ill, they were out of the office a total
of 109 days on business trips. And this total did not include all
of the day trips he made. But even when Dr. Jernigan took a day
trip, he didn't stop working. Somebody else would drive, and I
would accompany him; we would work on mail or he would dictate a
speech or article to me on the way to wherever he was going. 

     When Dr. Jernigan's health worsened to the point that he
could no longer come into the office, he would call me and ask me
to come to his house and work. Mrs. Jernigan had set up an office
in their bedroom, and we would work, sometimes for five hours,
sometimes only for a half hour, depending on how well he felt. He
dictated his last letter to Mrs. Jernigan less than a week before
he died. 

     One of Dr. Jernigan's favorite sonnets is titled "Remember"
by Christina Rossetti:

                           **********
     Remember me when I am gone away,
     Gone far away into the silent land;
     When you can no more hold me by the hand,
     Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.
     Remember me when no more day by day
     You tell me of our future that you planned:
     Only remember me; you understand
     It will be late to counsel then or pray.
     Yet if you should forget me for a while
     And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
     For if the darkness and corruption leave
     A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
     Better by far you should forget and smile
     Than that you should remember and be sad.
                           **********
     I read somewhere that the measure of a man is not gauged by
how many people he loved, but by how many people loved him. I
will remember Dr. Jernigan with love and gratitude, as thousands
of other people all over the world--blind and sighted alike--will
also remember him. And "be that as it may," we will all try very
hard not to be sad.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO DESCRIPTION: A man sits in a rocking chair reading a
Braille book to children seated on the floor.  CAPTION: Paul
Flynn reads to a group of children.]
                       Paul and Joan Flynn
                           **********
     From the Editor: Paul Flynn is a rank-and-file member of the
Baltimore Chapter. He and his wife Joan recently wrote Mrs.
Jernigan the following letter:
                           **********
                                                December 18, 1998
                           **********
Dear Mrs. Jernigan,

     Joan and I wish to express our sympathy to you in your great
loss. We are in Dr. Jernigan's debt forever. He was an inspiring
and admirable man and leader of the blind.

     I would not have secured my teaching job in the Baltimore
Public School System without Dr. Jernigan's swift, timely, and
decisive intervention on my behalf. In late October of 1983
officials in the hiring division of the Baltimore School System
were vacillating and had been stalling for several weeks, failing
to give me the teaching assignment they had promised. At that
point I phoned Dr. Jernigan and told him about my problem. He
immediately called Mayor Schaefer's office. Later that day he
called me and told me to expect a phone call from one of Mayor
Schaefer's aides the following day. I did receive that call, and
within a week I received my teaching appointment at Mergenthaler
High School. I taught English at that high school for the next
fourteen years.

     I know that I am only one of the many hundreds, perhaps
thousands, who owe their success at least in part to Dr.
Jernigan's assistance. He was one of those rare human beings who
actually fulfill their remarkable powers. All of us will greatly
miss him, but his influence is too deeply involved in the
Federation, as in the lives of blind people everywhere, for it
ever to die.

     Your husband was, I think, a very good and great man, for
whom my wife and I will always be grateful.
                           **********
                                                            Love,
                                              Paul and Joan Flynn
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Mary Ellen Gabias]
                        Mary Ellen Gabias
                           **********
     From the Editor: I first met Mary Ellen Reihing, now Gabias,
the year after the leadership seminar which she describes at the
opening of her recollection about Dr. Jernigan. She was by then
an unusually poised and wise young woman. The fruits of Dr.
Jernigan's careful tending were already beginning to make
themselves known in her actions and words. This is what she says:
                           **********
     When I was a young woman of twenty-one, I thought of myself
as a college kid. I knew I was good at school work, but I had
trouble imagining myself shouldering adult responsibilities. As a
result of the work I had done organizing students in my state, I
had been elected secretary of the national student division in
1973. But in my mind this was all practice; responsibility for
the Federation belonged to the National President, Board Members,
state leaders--to the real adults. So, when Dr. Jernigan called
to invite me to a leadership seminar in Des Moines over the 1973
Labor Day weekend, I was expecting a course for students. I read
the literature I was sent as if I were preparing for an exam.

     It didn't take me long to realize that this was no academic
exercise. Nor was it a practice session for some future date when
I might grow up and do some leading. Dr. Jernigan thought of me
as both an adult and a responsible colleague. Others had told me
I was an adult; he was the first person I had ever met who seemed
thoroughly to believe it. He made it absolutely clear that every
person at the seminar was expected to carry part of the load--
even scared, college-kid me.

     Dr. Jernigan knew I was feeling overwhelmed. He did
everything he could to reassure me at the same time he was
presenting me with the toughest challenge I had ever faced. He
went out of his way to make me feel I belonged.

     On the first night in Des Moines we went to a restaurant
where customers chose and prepared their own steaks. Another
seminarian--a woman with more courage and honesty than I
possessed--told him before we went that she didn't want to grill
her own steak. She said she had never learned to grill them
properly. She knew that other blind people could do it, but not
she. "Don't worry," Dr. Jernigan replied. "You'll do just fine.
I'll show you what you need to know. Grilling steaks is fun.  How
do you feel about grilling a steak, Mary Ellen?"

     I had probably eaten fewer than ten steaks in my life! Not
only had I never grilled one, I was not even sure whether I would
know how a good steak should taste. I was embarrassed to admit my
ignorance, but I knew it would be readily apparent as soon as we
got to the restaurant. So I answered Dr. Jernigan's question in
what seemed to me to be the safest way possible. "Well, sir," I
replied, "I've never grilled a steak, but there's no harm in
trying."

     "There's no virtue in it, either," was his astonishing
reply. "There's nothing more obnoxious than a blind person who's
so touchy about his independence that he won't accept help when
doing so would be more efficient and graceful. That sort of
behavior says more about insecurity than independence." Someone
showed me how to grill my steak, but that evening is memorable
because of what it gave me to chew over in my mind. Dr. Jernigan
was not a person who could be satisfied with a glib, safe, and
self-serving answer.

     The next day we started before eight in the morning and
finished at ten in the evening. Dr. Jernigan showed me a thick
stack of index cards with items he meant to cover. From time to
time during the three days of the seminar he would walk over to
my chair and show me how many items we had completed and how much
was still left to do. There was more to do than we could possibly
get done. That's the way it always is in the Federation. We
worked hard, laughed a lot, and cried sometimes.

     The experience changed the way I thought about myself. I
began to understand that Dr. Jernigan could not carry the load
alone. He could write and speak about blindness better than
anyone else; his thinking was innovative; his courage was beyond
question; but he also needed my help. He had shown me what the
Federation meant to blind people. He had given the deepest and
best part of himself to the movement. He had ceased to be an
intimidating stranger and become a trusted friend.

     I started work at the National Center for the Blind in
October, 1982. Dr. Jernigan knew how to make hard work fun. The
staff called themselves the citizens and met from time to time to
celebrate birthdays and to decide on crucial matters like what
brand of peanut butter we would buy for the lunch room. Citizens
of the Center, like citizens the world over, paid taxes. There
was a great deal of politicking to get the commodities various
people wanted. Dr. Jernigan made alliances and brokered deals.
Sometimes his side won, but not always.

     Citizens who left items on the lunchroom counters or tables
were subject to small fines that went into the treasury with the
taxes. This boosted revenues and kept the lunchroom tidy. More
than once a gleeful voice came over the public address system:
"Dr. Jernigan, please retrieve your possession from the lunch
room and pay your fine." He paid without a murmur of protest, but
he also never missed an opportunity to collect fines from his
colleagues.

     Dr. Jernigan loved to entertain. Every year he invited the
staff to his home for a picnic. We also had a potluck Christmas
dinner. One year I made ratatouille. "Ratatouille," he said the
word several times. Then he asked, "If you have just a little
rattatouille, would you have mouse-atouille?"

     He teased me a lot about my love of baseball, particularly
my fondness for the Toledo Mudhens. "A coot can't mate with a
mallard, but a mudhen can mate with either a coot or a mallard."

     I wondered where in the world he had gotten that information
about water fowl. "That shows that mudhens are very flexible," I
responded.

     "No, Miss Reihing," he answered. "That shows that mudhens
are very promiscuous."

     When I had been at the Center for a few weeks, someone
called me with a good job listing in work with the blind. I
called Dr. Jernigan, excited about the possibility of employment
for a blind person.

     "What does it pay?"

     I had forgotten to get that basic data.

     "Miss Reihing, you're going to have to lick your calf over.
That's an expression I learned growing up on the farm in
Tennessee. When a cow gives birth to a calf, she licks it clean.
If she doesn't get the job done right the first time, she has to
lick her calf over. Call the guy back and get me all the
necessary information."

     When I had done so and called him back with the complete
information, he thanked me and then said, "You just wasted some
poor person's PAC money." He never forgot that we were all
accountable to blind people who sacrificed part of their meager
SSI checks to help fund the Federation.

     One day, when I was still very new on the staff, I told him
I was afraid of making a mistake that would cause harm to a blind
person. "You will, Miss Reihing. You can count on it. The only
people who never get it wrong are the ones who do nothing."

     When he was working, he worked very hard. When he wasn't
working, he resisted working at all. One evening I was a guest at
his home. The conversation around the dinner table was about
politics, wine, the weather. I was thinking about something I was
doing at work and asked him a question about it. He answered
politely in one sentence and went back to discussing politics,
wine, and the weather. Two more times I brought up questions
about work with the same result. As the Bible says, "To
everything there is a season."

     Chapters and state affiliates frequently came to the
National Center for the Blind to tour their property, talk to Dr.
Jernigan and Dr. Maurer, buy aids and appliances, and enjoy good
food and the excitement that comes from being at the nerve center
of the National Federation of the Blind. Dr. Jernigan would often
work late into the evening discussing the Federation with the
members of the affiliates. At the end of a very long weekend he
told a departing state affiliate that he was going to go and
clean the bedroom and bathroom he had used while staying at the
Center. One person said in an astonished tone, "He's the leader
of the Federation, and he still cleans toilets!" Dr. Jernigan
replied that it would be an irresponsible waste of the
Federation's resources if he spent very much time cleaning
toilets but that, if he was unwilling to spend some time
cleaning, he didn't deserve to lead.

     He was always teaching. Construction workers who helped with
the remodeling at the Center frequently stopped me in the hall to
tell a story about how Dr. Jernigan had noticed some flaw in
their workmanship. They learned quickly that there was no room
for sloppiness. One telephone installer grumbled, "I left less
than a half inch of wire sticking out, and he noticed and asked
me what it was for! I used to think that blind people didn't know
what was going on because they couldn't see. I don't think that
anymore."

     Our opponents were often unnerved by his ability to change
his approach when the situation warranted change. He could be
unflinchingly confrontational when the rights of blind people
were being trampled. He could also accept the need to work with
people who disliked the Federation if doing so would safeguard
the rights of blind people. I once asked him how he could keep
from hating such snakes. "If a snake is going to bite you, you
have to kill it. But you should always love the snake, even while
you're killing it. A fat lot of good it does the snake, I
suppose, but it does you a lot of good." Bitterness and hatred
were not part of his character.

     Dr. Jernigan was the first person outside of our immediate
families to learn of my engagement to Paul Gabias. The growing
Gabias family has continued to treasure his friendship. He was
one of the people we called when our daughter Joanne was born
with an infection that collapsed her lung and almost killed her.
He rejoiced with us at her recovery and at the births of our sons
Jeffrey and Philip.

     Our fourth child, Elliott, was born on September 3--exactly
twenty-five years after the First Seminar in Des Moines. Though
he was weak and short of breath and knew his death was not far
off, Dr. Jernigan rejoiced with us again. Without Dr. Jernigan's
work, how many Federation families would never have come to be?
The children of those families are truly his Federation
grandchildren.

     I'll miss Dr. Jernigan for the rest of my life. But I know
the things he taught me will always be there to call upon, and my
gratitude is even stronger than my grief.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: James Gashel, his wife Betsy Zaborowski, and Dr.
Jernigan outside the Jernigan home]
                          James Gashel
                           **********
                                              Baltimore, Maryland
                                               September 14, 1998
                           **********
Dear Dr. Jernigan:

     I'm not sure when it was that I last wrote a letter to you,
but I think it may have been as long as thirty years ago back in
Iowa. I guess this is so because I have had the honor to work by
your side each and every day for the better part of this time.
Now I must write to say good-bye.

     It is an understatement to say that this is not easy. You
have spent your entire life giving to us, and now we have only a
few weeks left and very little that we can give to you in return.
In the short term, I guess that just giving you time finally to
be at peace is best.

     Beyond that you should be comforted in knowing that the
purpose to which you devoted your life is now shared among tens
of thousands of us. It is true that your voice will be silent and
your hand will not be on the tiller, but the course will be as
steady as it has ever been.

     You gave this assurance to Dr. tenBroek thirty years ago,
and now we give it to you. One thing you know for sure is that
the National Federation of the Blind is as strong as it has ever
been. The trust that we now have is to keep it that way and to
build on the progress you helped to make. Please know that this
will happen. You have done everything you could possibly have
hoped to do to make it that way.

     You have said that there is no force on earth that can stop
our progress. When you first said those words many years ago, it
may have been a matter of faith, but now it has become a matter
of fact. Through the patience of your teaching and the example of
your life, the fire of your commitment to blind people has
ignited an eternal flame which we will fuel and in our turn pass
along.

     So, Dr. Jernigan, as it has been during the journey of your
life so far, it will continue to be during the journey you are
now making. In ways that really count, you are not alone. I will
miss your strength and your wisdom, but I promise you that my
commitment to the mission of your life will always remain true.
                           **********
     Yours with thanks for all that you have meant and mean.
                                                     James Gashel
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Deborah Kendrick]
                        Deborah Kendrick
                           **********
     From the Editor: Deborah Kendrick is a syndicated columnist,
author, and editor. In recent years she has taken part in a
number of Federation activities, but she did not know Dr.
Jernigan. She wrote the following letter after she heard the news
of Dr. Jernigan's death. She read it during the NFB of Ohio's
convention memorial service. This is what she said:
                           **********
                                                 October 13, 1998
                           **********
Dear Dr. Jernigan:

     A collage of stories surrounded your life. Charismatic,
hypnotic, controlling, brilliant--these are words many have used
in bringing those stories to life. There were stories about your
holding the line and winning your point, and stories about your
gentleness in incorporating a mistake into the overall fabric of
knowledge. From the kitchen counter or the dining table, from the
convention floor or the conference room, colleagues and friends
have preserved and shared their memorable images of your
magnitude.  I have heard them, wondered over them, collected them
too. All are now a part of the remarkable picture of the man, a
picture growing and flourishing in my mind. But they are not my
experience. What I will remember is your voice.

     "It is OK to be blind," I heard you say on a recording a
million years and miles ago, when I had thought perhaps the only
way to continue my success was to hide the shameful fact of that
ingredient. 

     "It's respectable to be blind," you said, and the concept,
for me, was like a lifeline.

     Your life is a wonderful mosaic that none could assimilate
in a single encounter. From each shared experience we take from
your history--as we did from your presence--the resounding chords
of power and pride. I never touched your hand; but I heard your
voice--and I thank you for your legacy.
                                                 Deborah Kendrick
                           **********
                           **********
                        Catherine Kudlick
                           **********
     From the Editor: Dr. Kudlick is a professor of history at
the University of California at Davis. She grew up struggling
with low vision but having none of the techniques and supports to
assist her to live and work efficiently. Even though she has now
regained much of her vision, she recognizes in retrospect how
much she would have benefited from participation in the National
Federation of the Blind. The Kernel Books have played a
significant role in her growing understanding of herself and
visual impairment. This excerpt from an e-mail message
demonstrates the impact Dr. Jernigan had on people he never met:
                           **********
Dear Barbara,

     I read Dr. Jernigan's obituary in yesterday's New York Times
and wanted to express my sorrow to you and the NFB. As you know,
I'm very new to lots of this, but in the past year a man I never
had the good fortune to meet touched me very deeply. It will
always be one of my great regrets that I hadn't come to terms
with my vision stuff soon enough to have been able to talk to him
about history and the rest, but I guess he talked to me, and
sometimes dialogues are serial; I feel that I will carry much of
what he said into my interactions with students, colleagues,
friends, and others, and we will do the talking instead. . . .

     I know you are beyond busy, so don't feel you have to write
back anytime soon. It's just good to be able to write to you, and
I was thinking of you and all the sadness around the loss of Dr.
Jernigan, so there. Best of luck in the days and weeks ahead.
                                                Catherine Kudlick
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Larry McKeever walking together
at the 1998 Convention in Dallas]
                        Larry A. McKeever
                           **********
     I first met Kenneth Jernigan in the mid-1960's. I had been
reading for the Iowa Library for several years, and when I
returned from Australia, I began work at a classical music
station in Des Moines.

     Shortly after that Dr. Jernigan called and wondered if this
off-beat station would be interested in a program of poetry. Our
friendship began with the production of those programs. I was
immediately impressed with his knowledge--not only of poetry but
of people and the world. His dedication to the Federation was
apparent from the beginning.

     Later that year Jim Valiant, Dr. Jernigan's administrative
assistant at the Iowa Commission for the Blind, resigned to
return to Maryland. Dr. Jernigan and I discussed the possibility
of my assuming that position. After an intense interview and
testing I was hired and attended my first NFB convention in
Washington. We eventually decided that this was not the right
position for me, so I assumed another job at the Commission. Mary
Ellen Anderson, now Jernigan, joined the staff at that time. That
was the beginning of my friendship with both of these remarkable
people, a friendship which has lasted to this day.

     Early in 1968 I started a recording studio. Not too long
after that Dr. Jernigan called saying that the person who had
been recording the conventions was retiring. He wondered if I was
interested in that job as well as recording and producing the
Braille Monitor. I began reading the Monitor and working closely
with Dr. Jernigan, who usually read the articles he had written.
My last Braille Monitor and Convention recording were done just
as the studio at the National Center opened. 

     I remember the discussions about the difficult situation in
Iowa in 1978--whether to stay and fight the nay-sayers or move
the NFB offices. When Dr. Jernigan decided to go to Baltimore, I
was saddened, but I agreed with the decision. I also remember the
first time I went to Baltimore. The NFB occupied a smallish
office on St. Paul Street with boxes and furniture everywhere.
What a difference between that tiny space and the magnificent
headquarters today at the National Center for the Blind! Kenneth
Jernigan was the worker, the dreamer, and always the builder.

     Speaking of building, later Dr. Jernigan called me to
Baltimore to discuss building a recording studio at the National
Center. We planned the rooms and the settings just as they exist
today. Once they were built, I came again to Baltimore to equip
the studio and help find someone to run it. 

     Everyone is familiar with Dr. Jernigan's dislike of flying.
Many have heard a description of the eventful flight that Dr.
Jernigan, Iowa Commission Librarian Mrs. Florence Grannis, and I
made to Boise, Idaho, in the early 1970's--particularly Dr.
Jernigan's embellished version of that trip. But fewer knew of
two other flights we made in the single-engine plane I flew.
Before the Idaho trip Dr. Jernigan, Mrs. Grannis, and I flew into
Chicago for a meeting. After landing my back gave out. By the
time their meeting was over I was not fit to fly. So we quickly
went to Midway airport to get a commercial flight. It was Dr.
Jernigan's ministrations that got me safely back to Des Moines.
(I recovered the plane a few days later.)

     Dr. Jernigan kept sufficient faith in my piloting ability to
make one later trip to Tennessee. This one was uneventful. But on
the way I was able to acquaint him with the operation of the
airplane, the radios, and the air system. I remain convinced
that, if something had happened to me on that flight, with the
help of another plane to talk him down he could have landed the
airplane safely if not prettily.

     For the past three years I have been privileged to serve as
personal assistant to Dr. Jernigan at National Conventions. I was
with him most of the time, attending sessions, travelling between
meetings, and helping wherever needed. I also helped supply the
Jernigan Suite, did necessary errands, and on occasion brought
dignitaries to the convention. It's impossible to describe the
wide-ranging discussions we had in our walks between meetings and
after the day's work was done.

     By the time we reached Dallas last summer, Dr. Jernigan had
fought lung cancer for nearly a year and was tired from the
illness and the treatments. But he carried on in convention
sessions very nearly at the top of his form. Doing so took a
great deal out of him. On the Saturday after convention, as I was
leaving, he took my hand and said: "Mr. McKeever, if I don't make
it to next year, find someone else to work for and tip one for
me." I assured him at the time that I would tip several for him,
and I will.

     I feel distinctly blessed to have known Kenneth Jernigan.
Tens of thousands will miss him because of the attitudes he
changed. Thousands more will miss him because of the
opportunities he made available. I will miss him because he was
my friend.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Jim Omvig]
                        Through the Hands
                        of Such as These
                        by James H. Omvig
                           **********
     From the Editor: Jim Omvig is an attorney who worked for
some years with Dr. Jernigan in Iowa and who then went on to have
a distinguished career in law. What follows is the entire speech
he prepared for the memorial service.
                           **********
     He gave us hope where there had been only hopelessness; joy
where there had been only sadness; confidence where there had
been only doubt; and enthusiasm for life where there had been
only despair. He gave us something else too, and he burned it
into our very souls: "We know who we are, and we will never go
back!"

     It is a privilege of a very special order for me to speak to
you here today, to rejoice in the life and work of Kenneth
Jernigan. First, I was honored simply to know and work closely
with Dr. Jernigan for nearly forty years. But, even more than
that, my own life has been blessed by my relationship with him,
for I was one of the lucky ones, one of those who happened to be
in the right place at the right time.

     My wife Sharon, who happens to be sighted, is as blessed as
I. She met him as a young woman of nineteen; and, as she puts it,
"He raised me up."

     In my own case I was living in Iowa when Dr. Jernigan came
into the state and opened the new Adult Orientation and
Adjustment Center using the National Federation of the Blind's
philosophy. I was one of the very early students in this
remarkable attitude factory, and my life was changed forever.
Through his kind, loving and patient tutelage, I acquired a
passion for life and that burning desire not merely to survive,
but to succeed.

     Many can attest to his brilliance, to his passion for
justice for the blind, and to the fact that for more than thirty
years he was the prime mover in pushing back the frontiers of
ignorance about blindness. But today I would like to show you a
side of Dr. Jernigan not many people saw, by telling you several
seemingly unrelated stories. Then I will finish by talking
briefly with you about giving.

     It was only many years after I had met Dr. Jernigan (when I
was older and obviously a whole lot wiser) that I had an
astonishing revelation: Dr. Jernigan loved me and believed in me
long before I either hoped or believed in myself. When I met him
in 1960, I had sat at home for almost eight years--this following
my graduation from a wretched, regressive residential school for
the blind. I had been in his office for about two minutes when
Dr. Jernigan asked, "Are you blind?"

     "Oh, no sir," I said. "I'm just a little hard of seeing."
But he wouldn't let me off the hook with that kind of
foolishness. So he asked, "How many fingers am I holding up?"

     I was so ashamed of being blind that I didn't have the guts
to tell him that I couldn't see him at all, so I guessed,
obviously incorrectly, for he then said, "My friend, you are
blind; you are a blind person." At that point I was convinced
that this was one mean man.

     He then explained his definition of blindness to me, but the
interview didn't get any easier. Soon, when he learned that I was
twenty-five years old, he said, "The chances are that you'll live
for another fifty years. What are you going to do with all of
that time?" He continued, "The choice is yours. Either you can
come here as a student and learn to deal with your blindness, or
you can go back home and sit. You should think about the fact,
though, that a man can wear out the seats of a lot of trousers in
fifty years."

     I was stunned to silence by this grim prospect, but by and
by he explained the Center's programs to me and offered me the
chance to be one of his students, and the rest is history. Thank
God I had enough sense to take the chance.

     Now to a series of other stories. While I was a student in
the Iowa Center, I learned both just how hard Dr. Jernigan worked
(he usually put in more than a hundred hours a week) and also
just how much he loved personally working with and teaching
students. For example, we students lived right in the Commission
building, and so did he. As students we typically worked from
6:00 in the morning until around 11:00 at night, five days a
week. So we looked forward to sleeping in on Saturdays.

     But it was common, at around 6:00 on a Saturday morning, to
be awakened by a ferocious banging on our doors and a hearty,
"Look alive in there. You can sleep when you get old! Breakfast
is ready!" And we would go to the Jernigan apartment for
breakfast. This gave Dr. Jernigan another hour or two to teach
and motivate before he got on with the rest of his day.

     It was following times like these around his dining room
table or sitting in his living room or after 6:00 a.m. gym class
or in his office that he also had one-on-one talks with us:
peaceful, frank, and instructive. Those of us who were lucky
enough to be his students will always feel deep gratitude for
these special times.

     And Dr. Jernigan also loved grammar, so he offered us a
chance to attend his grammar class one night a week: another hour
or two a week of motivating and teaching.

     A wonderfully mellow side of Dr. Jernigan could be seen at
holiday time. We always had a Center Christmas party, and it was
never complete without his reading to us in Braille. He loved to
build a great fire, sit near it, and read the Christmas Story
from the Bible, "The Gift of the Magi," "Yes, Virginia, There Is
a Santa Claus," and other Christmas favorites. Those too were
warm and wonderful times which will never be forgotten.

     Ever wonder about this last name business either at the Iowa
Commission or in the Federation? There is a story behind that
too. It all started shortly after Dr. Jernigan came to work in
Iowa as Director in March of 1958. He hadn't been there long when
he observed a troubling practice: the sighted staff members were
addressed by their last names while the blind employees were
called by their first names. Being a man of justice, he knew that
he must do something to save the situation. He could either have
everyone use first names or last. He opted for last, from the
Director right through the table of organization to the janitor.
He believed that the bankrupt Commission for the Blind with its
beleaguered staff needed to find ways--anything he could use--to
bring about a feeling of pride and prestige. He thought that
using last names might help. It worked.

     And the financially bankrupt agency wasn't bankrupt very
long, either. Success in the programs paid great dividends, but
some other minor ingredients helped too. For instance, in the
late 1950's and early 1960's, many of the Iowa state legislators
loved poker, and they played a night or two a week. Now it so
happened that Dr. Jernigan loved to play poker too, and he was
good at it. Soon he was engaged in weekly games with members of
the legislative leadership. He won so frequently that, before
long, the legislators refused to let him deal the cards. They
were convinced that he was able to feel the Braille dots while he
dealt and thus to know their hands. To their way of thinking, how
else could one explain that a blind man beat them so regularly?

     These contacts, together with his obvious intellect and
charisma and later the success of the program, soon resulted in
unparalleled legislative support. For almost twenty years the
Commission got virtually every dime of legislative funding it
requested.

     In addition to his counseling with and teaching students,
Dr. Jernigan also often became involved in school and job
placement activities. Let me tell you a little of the story of
Curtis Willoughby, one of my fellow Center students in 1961. In
casual conversation one day, Dr. Jernigan asked Curt what he
planned to do as a career. Curt replied that he didn't know. Dr.
Jernigan said, "I understand that you're good with electronics. I
thought you'd probably pursue that as a career."

     Curtis replied, "I'd actually like to become an electrical
engineer, but my teachers at the school for the blind said a
blind person couldn't do that."

     Dr. Jernigan replied, "Look, I don't know any blind
electrical engineers--at least any who went through school as a
blind person--but if that's what you want to do, then try."

     Curtis did try, but Iowa State University officials then
refused to admit him. As they put it, "This program is extremely
difficult even for sighted students. We can't imagine how a blind
person could possibly get through it."

     Eventually Dr. Jernigan became involved in the struggle. He
argued, "Look, all that Curtis wants is the chance to try--no
special treatment, no favors, just a chance. If he succeeds--and
I believe that he will--that will be great. If he fails, then
flunk him out just like you would flunk out any other poor
student." School officials relented, Curtis was admitted, and the
rest of his story too is history. Curtis has worked successfully
ever since as an electrical engineer.

     Then there is the story of Judy Young. She was the first
totally blind public elementary school teacher to teach sighted
children in both Iowa and North Dakota. When Judy was hired by
the principal of Des Moines' Urbandale Elementary School, some
irate Urbandale parents were so outraged about the hiring of a
blind person to teach their kids that they actually pulled those
children out of school. However, when reason prevailed, the kids
came back, and by the end of that first year there was almost
universal agreement that Judy Young was the best teacher their
children had ever had.

     But, as Paul Harvey says, "Let me tell you the rest of the
story." After Judy's graduation from the Orientation Center, she
had no difficulty being accepted at the University of Iowa, and
she did well. But when she announced her intention of going into
elementary education, the door was closed. Unenlightened school
officials absolutely refused to let Judy in. In their minds it
was one thing for a blind teacher to work in a high school,
perhaps teaching social studies, but it was quite another thing--
indeed, an impossible task--for a blind person to teach
elementary education to sighted children.

     Everything came to a head at a meeting which Dr. Jernigan
attended along with school officials in Iowa City on a Sunday
evening. (Just as an aside, imagine today a state agency director
at a Sunday evening meeting 120 miles from home advocating for
the rights of an agency client.)

     Dr. Jernigan had gone to Iowa City to persuade officials to
let Judy in. However, these officials first remained steadfast in
their discriminatory determination to keep her out. Faced with
this stubborn resistance, Dr. Jernigan finally said, "If that's
the way you want it, fine. You should know, though, that I'm
going to hold a press conference tomorrow morning in Des Moines
to announce to the public that the State University of Iowa
discriminates against its blind students. Frankly, I don't think
you'll like that very much, and I can guarantee you that the
public of Iowa won't like it at all. But if that's the way you
want to have it, then so be it."

     Dr. Jernigan's suggestion struck a nerve, and miraculously,
right then and there, these officials became enlightened and
understood that the bright and competent Judy really ought to
have a chance. Again, this is the stuff which distinguished Dr.
Jernigan from his director peers. Judy Young was extremely
successful at teaching both in Iowa and, following her marriage,
in North Dakota. Sadly, she died as a young woman, leaving behind
a husband and three small children.

     One last student story must be told. In the early 1970's a
student named Jim Speed enrolled in the Center. Jim's was a
unique case. He was around 6 feet, 9 inches tall and had come to
Iowa to play basketball at the University of Iowa. All had agreed
that he was a future All-American. However, during the first week
of practice Jim became ill, and within a few days he was
permanently, totally blind. He enrolled in the Center shortly
thereafter, but it was difficult for him. First, of course, his
entire NBA career with its potentially huge salary was gone. But
also, almost everyone in Des Moines knew of his story and
recognized him on the streets. They constantly stopped him to pat
him on the back and to tell him how sorry they were for his
terrible plight.

     These two factors took their toll, and before long Jim was
utterly down-hearted and discouraged. He became one of the most
negative students the Center had ever had. Even more, this
negativity began to rub off on the twenty or twenty-five others
who were students at the time. Nothing we tried helped. Finally
Dr. Jernigan called Jim into his office one day. "Jim," he said,
"the time has come when we can't treat you with kid gloves any
longer. You have two, and only two, choices. Either you pack up
and leave today or tell me you want to stay. But, understand me,
if you stay, you will be happy!

     Jim grumbled, "If I choose to stay, are you saying I have to
fake being happy?"

     "That's exactly what I mean," said Dr. Jernigan. "Look here,
Jim, it's one thing if you choose to throw away your own life,
but I can't stand by and let you hurt these other students."

     Since going home would have been a dismal prospect for Jim,
he chose to stay, and he did fake it. The immediate change both
in Jim and also in the other students was remarkable. Five or six
weeks later Dr. Jernigan was awakened at around midnight one
Saturday evening, not by Jim, but by another student. This poor
fellow said, "I'm sorry to wake you at this time of night, but
Jim Speed wants to see you in his room."

     Dr. Jernigan thought, "What in the world has gone wrong
now?" But he pulled on his robe and went to Jim's room. "Jim," he
said, "I understand you need to see me."

     Speed said, "Yah, I have something to tell you. I've faked
being happy for so long now, that I just realized something--I
really am happy!"

     Dr. Jernigan said, "That's wonderful, but don't you suppose
you could have waited and told me in the morning?"

     Jim said, "I could have, but I just wanted you to be the
first to know!" Jim Speed is working today as a rehabilitation
counselor.

     These and hundreds of other stories define the Dr. Kenneth
Jernigan a lot of people didn't know. I could also have told you,
for example, of the new, young staff member--not student--
Commission staff member who, when he was arrested for possession
of drugs on a Saturday night, called Dr. Jernigan rather than a
lawyer or his parents for help. Or I could have told you of how,
when he was speaking to some bored high school students one day,
he flipped up and walked on his hands around the stage, "To
capture their attention." It worked. However, in the interest of
time, these few stories I have told will have to do.

     Let me conclude with this: one of Dr. Jernigan's favorite
teaching books is The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran. His passage on
giving speaks volumes about the life and work of Kenneth
Jernigan. Gibran writes:
                           **********
     "You give but little when you give of your possessions. It
is when you give of yourself that you truly give.

     "There are those who give little of the much which they
have--and they give that for recognition; and their hidden desire
makes these gifts unwholesome.

     "There are those who have little, and give it all. These are
the believers in life and the bounty of life, and their coffer is
never empty.

     "There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their
reward. And there are those who give with pain, and that pain is
their baptism.

     "And there are those who give and know not pain in giving,
nor do they seek joy, nor do they give with mindfulness of
virtue; they give as in yonder valley the flower breathes its
fragrance into space.

     "Through the hands of such as these, God speaks, and from
behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.

     "For it is well to give when asked, but it is better to give
unasked, through understanding."
                           **********
     Dr. Jernigan, surely God has spoken through your hands, and
from behind your eyes He has smiled richly upon the earth. God
bless you.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Barbara Pierce and Dr. Jernigan]
                         Barbara Pierce
                           **********
                                                    Oberlin, Ohio
                                               September 11, 1998
                           **********
Dear Dr. Jernigan,

     Like everyone else who loves you, in recent months I have
been remembering all the things you have done for me and all the
ways in which you have influenced and shaped my life since our
first contact, in June of 1974. As I look back, it seems as if
you have always called forth more from me than I thought was
there to be found. How vividly I recall your telling me when you
called to invite me to a leadership seminar over the Labor Day
weekend in 1975 that I was not in a position to know what
contribution I could make to the organization. If I could come to
the seminar, that would be sufficient; we would discover together
what I could do to help build the NFB during the months and years
ahead.

     As I flew home from that seminar, I wrote, "Those who oppose
us may try to undercut this man's character, but during this
seminar I have taken his measure, and I have never before met
anyone with his capacity for love and faith in other people. No
one can ever convince me that he is anything other than the
finest man I have ever been privileged to know." That was twenty-
three years ago, but my assessment has never altered.

     In 1988, when you approached me about coming to work with
you, I was frightened and uncertain at the prospect of taking on
such an important and visible job. But you seemed convinced that
I could do it. By that time my experience had taught me to depend
on your assessments. As so often before, I walked out in faith
and in the trust that you would steady my steps and teach me what
I needed to know. You have been gentle, tactful, patient, and
unfailingly kind, and you have always served as my teacher and
guide.

     For twenty-four years you have been only a phone call or
letter away. Now I am forced to contemplate a future in which I
must apply what you have taught and counseled without the
immediate steadying of your wisdom and common sense. I will not
pretend that I am eager or even ready to be turned loose, but I
can promise you that I will do my best to remember all the
lessons you have taught me, and I will do my best to continue
your work to make the Braille Monitor the ringing voice of the
Federation. 

     We who love you will continue to nurture and build the
organization you have given your life to define and strengthen.
The time and thought and love you have poured into shaping me, I
promise I will pass on as best I can to those who come after. You
believed in me at a time in my life when I hardly dared believe
in myself. I promise you now that I will do my best to pass on
what you have given me--the love, the commitment, the wisdom, the
patient concern, and the dedication. To whatever degree I possess
these things, I will offer them to the movement you have built
and taught me to cherish.
                           **********
                                         With love and gratitude,
                                                          Barbara
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Hazel Staley]
                        Ruth Hazel Staley
                           **********
                                        Charlotte, North Carolina
                                                September 3, 1998
                           **********
Dear Dr. Jernigan,

     For the past year I have prayed hard daily for your
recovery, but apparently that was not to be. Now I try to console
myself with the belief that God has something very special in
heaven that He wants done: and, having carefully surveyed the
whole world, He chose you as the person most likely to do it and
do it well. I know you will serve Him well there as you have
served Him and us here. I can't imagine life without you. You
have been there so many times for me when I needed help or
encouragement. I probably don't have many more years here myself,
so I shall look forward to meeting you again when my turn comes.

     I have been where Mrs. Jernigan is now, and I know the pain
and frustration she is experiencing. Please convey to her for me
that, if she ever needs a shoulder to cry on or just an
understanding friend to talk to, I will be here.

     Until we meet again, I am
                                                Ruth Hazel Staley
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Following the memorial service, Barbara Walker
reaches down to touch the roses on Dr. Jernigan's grave.]
                         Making It Count
                        by Barbara Walker
                           **********
     From the Editor: Barbara Walker is President of the American
Action Fund for Blind Children and Adults. Here is the eloquent
and moving tribute she paid to Dr. Jernigan at the December 5
memorial service:
                           **********
     Somewhere in our National Center for the Blind, I once
helped to secure a nail. I don't know exactly where it is or even
if, in the course of remodeling, it's still there. But the
lessons of that nail will always be a part of the building of my
life. My instructor was Dr. Kenneth Jernigan.

     I believe the year was 1979. The occasion was a meeting of
the American Brotherhood for the Blind, now the American Action
Fund for Blind Children and Adults. The place was an old run-down
building at 1800 Johnson Street in Baltimore.

     We gathered in an enormous, echo-y room, where we were given
the opportunity to nail down a section of floor covering. Some on
the Board eagerly accepted the hammer and nails Dr. Jernigan
offered and went immediately to work.

     As he handed me a nail (the biggest one I had ever seen),
Dr. Jernigan quietly asked me if I had ever driven one.
Embarrassed and a bit apprehensive, I said "No."

     With irresistible enthusiasm he drew me into the process of
building. Neither the nail itself nor the driving of it was
insignificant to him. He showed me how to choose where to place
it, taking into consideration its function and its proximity to
other nails. He then invited me to observe the placement of his
hands as he held the nail firmly upright while tapping it gently,
saying that it was important not only to get it started straight
but also to hold it steady until its direction was established
and it was solidly grounded. After that, it was a matter of
rhythm, coordination, and confirmation of the nail's position and
progress. This he accomplished by touching the head of the nail
between hammer strokes.

     When he handed me the hammer, there was still room for the
nail to bend if I hit it wrong, but it had a good straight start.
My first taps were tentative. The nail didn't bend, but neither
did it progress. Dr. Jernigan pointed out that, even if you're
doing the right thing, if you do it without conviction, it's all
for naught. "Make it count!" he urged. "Make it count!"

     My next swing of the hammer was both true and convincing.
The nail went deeper. When I hesitated between swings, Dr.
Jernigan said the job would be done more quickly and with less
chance of error if I just got into the rhythm and drove the nail
home.

     He was right. As I concentrated on the goal, bringing my
whole self into synchronizing the components, most of my swings
were productive, and the nail went down, resting at last flush
with the flooring. When, upon completion, Dr. Jernigan voiced his
approval, I felt at once proud of having made a small
contribution to our building and awed by the impact of the wise
counsel I had just received from this master builder.

     As if reading my thoughts, Dr. Jernigan proclaimed,
intermittently slapping a nearby pillar for emphasis, that each
of us had now contributed to the structure of the National Center
for the Blind. He hoped we felt proud of our investment and
personally responsible for maintaining and improving upon it. I
did and still do.

     As I reflect on that moment with Dr. Jernigan, I recall many
similar lessons in building within the context of Action Fund
business. Mostly they have to do, not with nails, but with
people's lives. For just as he took, more than once in his
lifetime, shabby and dilapidated structures and dreamed them into
grand and functional facilities, so too did he take broken and
dispirited human beings and love them into independent and
fulfilled people.

     Dr. Jernigan taught us, in all we do, to be builders.
Sometimes we build with intangibles--hope, encouragement, or
truth about blindness. Sometimes we build with things--grants,
equipment, or books in Braille. But whatever the setting,
whatever the tools, our job is, as it was for me the day I
learned to drive a nail, to answer Dr. Jernigan's challenge and
"make it count!"
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Nicolas Stockton]
                 The Fifth Generation Remembers
                       by Nicolas Stockton
                           **********
     From the Editor: Not many of today's blind children will
grow up with strong recollections of Dr. Jernigan. Nicolas
Stockton is one of the lucky ones. His mother is active in the
National Organization of Parents of Blind Children, and Nicolas,
who is now about ten, has been attending NFB conventions for more
than half his life. This is what he wrote:
                           **********
     Dr. Jernigan was one of the most important people in my
life. I first met him when I was four at the NFB Convention in
Dallas, Texas. Mom told me that there was a man who had known my
great-grandfather, Dr. Sam Lawton, who was blind; and she took me
to see Dr. Jernigan after one of the sessions. Dr. Jernigan told
me about my great-grandfather. He called him a very great man,
and he called him a friend. Dr. Jernigan took out his own pocket
knife and gave it to me. He told me that it was to remember him
by. All these years I've kept his pocket knife in my NFB music
box. Every time I take it out, "Glory, Glory, Federation" plays,
and I remember Dr. Jernigan.

     I've learned a lot about my great-grandfather since then. He
helped start the NFB in South Carolina, and he was a preacher and
a teacher and a good man. When I think about Dr. Jernigan, it
makes me remember what people have told me about my great-
grandfather. Dr. Jernigan was not my great-grandfather, but I
think he was very much like him. My great-grandfather died before
I was born, but Dr. Jernigan did what a great-grandfather does:
he gave me a sense of my family's place in NFB history. He gave
me a heritage. He also helped me to get a Brailler so I could
learn to write. I wrote to him when he was sick with my Brailler.
I miss him very, very much, but I still have his knife, and I
will always remember him almost like he was my great-grandfather.
                           **********
                           **********
                             Recipes
                       by Kenneth Jernigan
                           **********
     For the recipes this month we have gathered together several
recipes that Dr. Jernigan contributed through the years to this
column.
                           **********
                           Corn Bread
                           **********
     From the Editor: It's unlikely that anyone who ever shared a
meal with the Jernigans in their home found no cornbread on the
table. Dr. Jernigan dearly loved it and made sure that there was
always a supply on hand. The recipe is the authentic one, and one
can still buy cast iron pans for baking it from the Materials
Center at the National Center for the Blind.
                           **********
Ingredients:
1 cup yellow corn meal
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup buttermilk
Sunflower seed, safflower, corn, or olive oil
                           **********
     Method: Mix the cornmeal (the nondegerminated kind if you
can get it) with the soda, baking powder, salt, and buttermilk.
Do not mix the buttermilk with the dry ingredients until the oil
has been put into the oven to heat. This will give you a better
product.

     Get your oven to a temperature of 475 degrees. (Be sure that
you get it that hot even if you have to use an oven thermometer
to know.) Use iron muffin rings or iron corn stick molds, and put
two teaspoons of oil in each individual ring or mold. Wait until
your oven has reached 475 degrees. Then put your oiled pans in,
and leave them for six minutes.

     Take the pans out of the oven and put one tablespoon of the
corn bread mix in each ring or mold. Put the filled pans back
into the oven immediately and leave them there for sixteen
minutes. Remove from oven and much joy in eating. By the way, the
teaspoons and tablespoons and the cups are the measuring variety,
not the regular kind.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and Barbara Pierce concoct a barrel
of NFB Tea.]
                             NFB Tea
                           **********
     Somewhere around 1970, when the National Office of the
Federation was at the Randolph Hotel Building in Des Moines, I
began making a concoction which I called NFB Tea. I served it to
the first seminar, which occurred in the fall of 1973, and I
served it in the presidential suite at National Conventions. Some
admired it; others couldn't tolerate it; but everybody knew about
it.

     Then, as the seventies passed into history and the eighties
came and went, the custom of serving NFB Tea at conventions and
seminars faded. However, there are those who pine "for the good
old days" and long to see a revival of the soothing brew. They
continue to ask that the recipe for the NFB Tea appear in the
Monitor.

     When I remind them that I put it into the Monitor some time
early in the seventies, they simply respond with annoyance,
saying that they don't remember it, don't have that edition of
the Monitor, or don't want to be bothered with irrelevancies.
Since the recipe is now quite different from what it was when it
appeared in the Monitor a decade and a half ago and since the
requests continue, it seems worthwhile to print it again. So here
it is as revised:

     You can make as much or as little NFB Tea as you want by
increasing or decreasing the quantity of the three basic
ingredients. Just keep the proportions the same. Pour equal parts
of pineapple juice, orange juice, and cranberry juice or
cranberry cocktail into a large container. If you don't intend to
use at least as much as a forty-six-ounce can of each of these
juices, it hardly seems worth the bother, not to mention which it
will be difficult not to overflavor. After you mix these three
basic juices, the fun begins. I usually add about one-third as
much peach or apricot nectar and one-third as much apple juice as
I have used of each of the three basic ingredients. Sometimes
(but not always) I also add a small amount of pear nectar if I
have it, about half as much as I have used of the apple or peach.

     Then I begin to sweeten the mixture with either sugar or
sugar substitute and add flavors, tasting as I go. I regard
certain flavorings as indispensable, but NFB Tea is a highly
flexible brew, which should be crafted to the taste of the
brewer. I always use vanilla, cinnamon, and nutmeg. I use liquid
cinnamon and nutmeg, and if I don't have the liquid, I make it by
heating the ground spice in water as strong as I can and
straining it.

     Next I add small amounts of a large variety of other
flavorings. I emphasize that you should begin with only dribs and
drabs. Remember that you can always put more in; once it's there,
you can't take it out. The mixture of flavors will depend on the
whim of the moment and what I have handy. But I will always use
at least eight or nine in addition to the cinnamon, vanilla, and
nutmeg. Here are some of the ones I use: almond, Angostura
bitters, anise, apple pie spice, arrack flavoring, banana,
blackberry, blackcurrant, blueberry, brandy flavor, butternut,
butterscotch, butter rum, caramel, cherry, peach, chocolate,
clove, coconut, coffee flavor, English toffee, a tiny amount of
ginger, hickory nut, lemon, pineapple, lime, maple, orange,
orange bitters, pear, pecan, pistachio, pumpkin pie spice, root
beer, rose, rum flavor, sassafras, violet, sherry flavor,
strawberry, tangerine, walnut, and most anything else I can find.
I don't use mint, eucalyptus oil, or wintergreen. It will also be
observed that NFB Tea contains no tea. When I first started
making the brew in the early seventies, I used Lipton tea, but I
abandoned the practice before the end of the decade. It had to do
with some of my Mormon friends and also with my evolving taste. I
like it better without the tea.

     When the mixture has been thoroughly concocted and tasted, a
good deal of ice should be added and stirred in. All that remains
is to enjoy the product and try different proportions next time,
but not different proportions among the three basic ingredients--
pineapple juice, orange juice, and cranberry juice or cocktail.
And no omission of the three basic flavorings--vanilla, cinnamon,
and nutmeg. Anything else goes.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Dr. Jernigan and President Maurer inspect a
Thanksgiving roast of beef.]
                  Ginger Beef and Other Things
                           **********
     Ordinarily I appear in these pages as Monitor Editor, and
sometimes as the author of an article, but on this occasion I
want to deal with cooking--or, more precisely, the creation of
recipes--something which I dearly love to do. Two or three years
ago Mrs. Jernigan and I went to a Jewish wedding, and the beef
was just about the best I had ever tasted. I hunted up the host,
who hunted up the chef, who told me how he did it. It had to do
with a marinade, in which he had partially immersed the meat,
turning it now and again. I liked the recipe, but I thought I
could improve it--and, at least to my taste, I have.

     This is what you might call a sort of all-purpose marinade.
Mrs. Jernigan and I use it for beef, pork, and fish. We boil
mushrooms in it. We make gravy of it. I'm sure it would be good
with chicken, vegetables, and (for all I know, though I have
never tried it) desserts, stir fries, or mixed drinks. It might
even work as hair tonic, liniment, shoe polish, cleaning fluid,
or a remedy for the flu. Be that as it may, here it is for
whatever you choose to do with it. Use it at your own risk. We
make no guarantees and assume no responsibility for the results.

     When I use this recipe, I usually multiply everything by
four or five so that I will have some to use and some to keep. If
I am preparing beef or pork, I put a gallon or two into a large
bucket or pan and totally immerse the meat, putting a plate or
bowl on top of it if necessary to hold it down. I then
refrigerate it for twenty-four hours, remove the meat, and either
cook it or freeze it for future use. Frozen, it will keep very
nicely for months or years, perhaps because of the potency of the
marinade. Anyway, here it is:
                           **********
Ingredients:
4 cups soy sauce
2 cups dry sherry (Dry Sack preferable)
1/2 cup ground ginger (Yes, I know it sounds like a lot, but
that's how much to use.)
1/4 cup liquid smoke
1 tablespoon nutmeg
1 tablespoon curry powder
1 tablespoon Old Bay Seasoning (Old Bay is a Maryland spice. If
you can't find it, maybe you should substitute a couple of
teaspoons of McCormick Season-All and a teaspoon of chili powder.
If you can't find the Season-All, then you might simply want to
leave this ingredient out, or have a shot at something else.)
2 cups sugar
1 cup honey
1 tablespoon black pepper
1 teaspoon red pepper
                           **********
     Method: Stir all ingredients thoroughly; immerse the meat;
and prepare for pleasure.
                           **********
                           **********
[PHOTO/CAPTION: Mrs. tenBroek and Dr. Jernigan]
                             Prayer
                           **********
     From the Editor: Last year Mrs. tenBroek came upon the
following prayer in some travel diaries. It was written by her
brother, Rabbi Norman Feldheym. She sent it to Dr. Jernigan "with
all good wishes to the best of good friends." Since it expresses
Dr. Jernigan's heart-felt prayer during the final year of his
life, it seemed a fitting way to close this memorial issue.
                           **********
                                                           Panama
                                                 February 8, 1934
                           **********
      O Lord, God, Master of the Universe, Thou by whose will and
intelligence this universe was created, heed Thou my earnest
prayer.

     I know that the life of man on earth is a precarious thing,
that it is his lot to bear pain as well as to enjoy happiness,
that it is his fate to endure suffering as well as to be blessed
with health. This is the price man pays for the privilege of
living.

     I who know Thy ways do not ask to be different from all
other men and women; I know that I, who am mortal, must with my
fellow man bear my share of pain in its turn, and endure my
portion of suffering in its time. My only prayer, O God, is for
patience, strength, and courage. I ask only for the patience to
bear my lot with calmness, for the courage to face my pain with
hope, and for the strength to endure my suffering with fortitude.

     I ask only for patience, strength, and courage--the
patience, strength, and courage by which all ills are finally
overcome, by which all wounds are healed and soon forgotten. This
is my earnest, my sincere prayer, O God, O God in whom all hope
resides, in whom all faith endures. Amen.