Sitting in his wheelchair on an overcast spring day, Kenneth Jennings talks about the “worst couple of seconds of his life.”
The time period may have been brief, but Jennings says it sent him into a downward spiral of anger, frustration and depression. He had thoughts of suicide.
He’s not speaking of those few seconds on the football field in 1988, when Jennings, a player for Simeon High School, suffered a broken neck on a kickoff. The injury left him paralyzed from the neck down, unable to use his arms or legs.
Over the next nine years, Jennings never lost his upbeat spirit. His old coach, Al Scott, can’t recall Jennings ever expressing bitterness or self-pity over his plight.
No, the few seconds that haunt Jennings occurred on a night he went to a party following a 1997 Bulls game. It was a glitzy affair, featuring many celebrities. Jennings went because he wanted to meet the rapper Ice T.
Also attending the party were some flesh peddlers, “procurers,” who were being followed by a camera crew from HBO. They were the subjects of a documentary called “Pimps Up, Ho’s Down.”
Jennings didn’t know the HBO crew had been there shooting until the show came out. In one brief but damaging segment, Jennings is shown in a custom-made red and yellow houndstooth suit, wheeling into the party in his chair, propelling himself by blowing through a tube. As he enters, “Big Lex,” a female procurer, provides the voiceover: “There’s some real pimping going on,” amid a montage of shots of flamboyantly dressed people the viewer assumes to be pimps.
The inference: Jennings is one, too.
Jennings says he felt immediate scorn and rejection from people who had befriended him, people who viewed him as an inspirational role model. They saw it on television–it had to be true.
Jennings was so devastated by the reaction he moved to Boca Raton, Fla. But the show’s image followed him there.
“It took me 26 years to build myself up, and it took five seconds for it all to be destroyed,” Jennings said. “I was an inspiration. But you can’t be an inspiration if people think you’re a pimp. Being hurt didn’t destroy an image I thought was very important.”
Jennings returned to Chicago last winter in an effort to restore his image and start a new life. He wants it to be a life of purpose, to be challenging and stimulating.
“I want a full plate, to the point where every minute I’m doing something,” Jennings said.
Thus far his plate has been mostly empty. Jennings’ biggest current challenge is battling boredom.
Then again, nothing has been easy since that day in 1988 when he was injured in a game against Corliss. He tried to make a tackle, but contact occurred at the wrong angle and he broke his neck.
The Chicago area responded to his plight. The city provided a wheelchair-accessible home for his family, which had been living in public housing. An ever-present smile and an upbeat attitude helped turn Jennings into something of a celebrity. His graduation from Simeon 10 years was a media event.
Jennings, 29, became a fixture at sporting events, usually accompanied by his friend Daryl Stingley, who was paralyzed from a football injury while playing for the New England Patriots in 1977. Jennings enrolled at Olive-Harvey Community College and gave motivational speeches to youngsters.
As he nears 30, Jennings is trying to find himself and move to the next stage of his life. Stingley talks to him often and tries to provide guidance and moral support.
“Life being what it is, we all have problems,” Stingley said. “Regarding his disability, he’s well-adjusted. It’s the other phases of his life that’s having the impact. Sometimes our situation is compounded by our disability, by the inability to do things on our own. If we could, the frustration wouldn’t be as great.”
Jennings lives by himself in a one-bedroom apartment on the South Side. He has a van and a driver, and a helper who comes in the morning to get him dressed and at night to help him into bed.
Otherwise, Jennings is on his own. Using a mouthstick, he can operate a computer, the phone, and other essentials to get by.
“I like it that way,” he said of the independence.
Jennings pays his expenses from a $3.95 million settlement of a lawsuit against the Chicago Board of Education and a physician. He describes his financial situation as “comfortable, not rich” because of the high cost of his care.
“There are things I still need to do to secure my financial future,” Jennings said.
Money, though, is not his motivation. His goal is to be a vital part of his community.
Before the HBO documentary aired, Jennings was in demand as a public speaker. He loved being up on stage, speaking out against drugs and teen pregnancy.
“The football field was the one place where I felt I had control,” he said. “When I’m on stage, I feel like I have that same control.”
Jennings also has given back to his school. He used part of his settlement money to fund an annual scholarship for a student-athlete at Simeon.
Jennings said all the right things. His attitude was an inspiration.
“I never asked why,” he said. “Why ask for an answer you’re never going to get? I’d rather take that energy and move on with my life.”
But his life hit a major speedbump after HBO impugned his character. Jennings has never been given an explanation as to why he was included in the film.
“I do like to dress flamboyantly,” he acknowledged. “But because I dress like that, should I be mistaken for something I’m not?”
Friends who were close to him knew the truth, Jennings says, but that didn’t stop the rumors and innuendo.
“I felt like I lost control of my life,” Jennings said, and Florida offered no relief. A neighbor who saw the show decided he was a drug dealer as well as a pimp and approached their tenants’ association about having him evicted from their apartment complex.
To Jennings’ dismay, the documentary continues to air periodically on various HBO outlets.HBO defended itself in a statement, saying, “the producers took great care in producing this film and are confident that it did not violate any of Mr. Jennings’ rights.”
Scott, his former coach, advised Jennings to get a lawyer and force the network to cut the scene. Jennings hasn’t taken that step, saying he wants to put everything behind him. He’s back in Chicago, tired of running. “In my eyes I can get more done here,” he said.
Exactly what he can do is the question. He’s doing some promotional work for a hip-hop group, Illsphere. He hopes to be involved with a sports show on a radio station for the disabled that’s being formed. He plans to do some work for a company in Wisconsin that is making clothes for disabled people.
Nothing, though, is definite, which makes Jennings uneasy.
“I’ve got three strikes against me,” he said. “I’m young, I’m black, and I’m disabled.”
If there is bitterness, it’s because doors aren’t opening these days. Jennings has come to believe people don’t respect him because “I’m sitting in that chair.”
“People see me and think I have it easy,” Jennings said. “Really, they do. Some people think I want to do nothing and just collect a check.”
Jennings cringes at that perception. His goal always has been to turn a crushing negative into a positive, much like his role model, Stingley, has done.
Stingley runs a foundation geared toward helping young people. He believes Jennings has the ability to take the same path.
“The sky is the limit for him, either negatively or positively,” Stingley said. “It all depends on what he wants to do, and how much energy and focus he plans to put into that pursuit.”
Jennings says the commitment is there. Life didn’t end for him on that football field. Life didn’t end for him during those few seconds of notoriety on HBO.
Jennings is ready, willing, and eager. All he wants is a chance.
“I want to be remembered for the things I did in my life,” Jennings said. “I want to make a difference. I know that can’t done sitting at home.”
