As I stood outside the Elk’s Lodge at around 10:30 a.m., waiting to interview Jeffery Jennings, Co-Founder of the California Black Panther Party, I reflected on how Jennings and other Black Panthers were at City College just two weeks ago to speak about social justice.

They were at the lodge to give out food to local families and the homeless. 

The line of people waiting for the lodge to open grew, and more volunteers gathered, waiting for Jennings to arrive. I finally spotted him around 11 a.m. After he greeted the volunteers and people, they began to unload the food. At 11:38 a.m., recipients were able to enter.

“It feels good, man, you know that you’re helping somebody who needs it,” said 51-year-old veteran Antojuan Scott, who recently started volunteering. “Everybody needs a little blessing every now and then.”

Born in 1949, Jennings grew up in southeast San Diego under the Jim Crow laws that had existed since 1865. These segregation laws prohibited Black people from using White-only buses, restrooms and water fountains. 

Jennings shared his experience of when, as a four-year-old with his mother at a Greyhound bus stop, he “rubbed shoulders” with Jim Crow laws. 

“I break away from her, and I run into the white men’s bathroom, and I didn’t notice it until the whole thing was over. She was in a hysterical state,” Jennings said. “There was an old white man kind enough to go in there and bring my ass up out of there. When I came out and looked at my mother, it was so much relief… they don’t give a damn whether you’re a kid or an adult.”

That encounter spurred his rebellious nature against the pre-imposed system he was born into.

In 1967, just three years after the end of Jim Crow laws, Jennings joined the San Diego Black Panthers chapter with his childhood friend Walter Wallace. He spoke about how Kenny Denman, one of the other founders, approached them with the idea and how the climate at the time played a part in his decision.

“We running around guns all day every day. You had riots all over the country. So everybody was fed up,” Jennings said. “He (Denman) asked us and we jumped right on it, that’s how I became co-founder. It was me, Captain Walter Wallace, Kenny Denman and Chairman Lisa Cheryl.”

Jennings was the lieutenant of security for the Panthers, protecting speakers at the Black Panther rallies. He escorted Civil Rights icons including Stokely Carmichael, Eldridge Cleaver and Angela Davis, to name a few.

While at the Elk’s Lodge, I interviewed 73-year-old Henry Lee Wallace V on the events that led him to join the Black Panthers.

“I was a band leader at 15 years old,” Wallace said. “Riot broke out in Richmond, California, where the police was up on the roof shooting at us. We had to run over to a black funeral home and hide up under an old lady’s casket.”

Wallace’s mother moved him to Richmond to avoid the 1965 riots in Watts. After the incident in Richmond, they moved back to Southern California.

“I left performing,” Wallace said. “I stopped doing my music and everything to join the Black Panthers at 15 years old. My parents became some of the cooks for the Black Panther Party.”

Despite his affiliations with criminal activities, Jennings’ activism with the Panthers prevailed in his journey, and he was released from prison on Nov. 27, 2024, one day before Thanksgiving. This week was special for him as Nov. 26 also happened to be his wedding anniversary. 

Jenning’s last arrest was in his early 20s, and he served 47 years in the Lassen County Adult Detention Facility. This was after he detached from being a functional member in 72-’73 due to the Black Panther Party officially being dissolved.

“They had me go before a special prosecutor,” Jennings said. “First thing he told me was that under three strikes law, they can take any past felony arrests and use them against me. My sentence came out in 1997. My sentence was 247 years, eight months to life straight like that. I went to trial, I lost it.”

The court had used nine past felonies against him,  some of which he had already served time for.

Jennings accepted his sentence and began to serve his time. Unbeknownst to him, his case would undergo investigation.

In 2022, he received a mysterious letter notifying him that his case was being reviewed for potential reduction. This began a process that would take more than a year to release Jennings. 

“So judge tells me straight up, we reviewed your case and here’s what we’re gonna do,” Jennings said. “We’re gonna take the 247 years away, and we’re gonna take the life sentence away, and do away with both of those and give you 47 years.”

These days, Jennings has been spending his time helping families at the Elk’s Lodge on the corner of Commercial St. and Hensley St., giving out groceries.

Every Wednesday from 11 a.m. to 12 p.m., volunteers feed families who are in need. Volunteers also distribute prepared meals to the homeless on 17th and 18th streets at the same time.

Jennings and Wallace took over running food handouts at the Elk’s Lodge shortly after Jennings was released. Before their arrival, it was all non-African American volunteers. 

The commitment from Wallace, Jennings and volunteers alike to support the community shows that the movement is still dedicated to serving those in need.

Wallace and Jennings’ presence in the community beckons a nostalgic reference point for the influence of the party’s actions that Jennings spoke about during the height of the movement. 

“Amazement, because they’ve been following the Panther Party through the news from all the stuff that went down in Oakland,” Jennings said. “They didn’t know really nothing else about it. Then here we are, live and in color, just popped up on it, and we brought it.”

It felt great to help the volunteers setup. I had always heard of the work the Black Panthers did in the communities, but helping carry boxes and seeing people thank the volunteers as they passed by the tables gave me a glimpse into the activism the Panthers have been doing since the 60s.

Edited by Jordan Bell, Danny Straus.