Don’t rename Jackson County — but let’s honor Royals great Bo, not slave owner Andrew
Andrew Jackson, the wealthy slave owner and champion of Native American genocide for whom Jackson County is named, was commonly known as “Old Hickory.” Who better to replace Old Hickory as the honoree of Jackson County than the all-time great athlete and Royals baseball star Bo Jackson, who routinely broke hickory baseball bats over his knee with ease?
This November, Jackson County residents will be tasked with determining the fate of several Jackson statues that have long adorned county buildings to honor the former president. Jackson’s legacy, which has been debated, has come under additional scrutiny as part of our nation’s public reckoning in the wake of protests that quickly spread across the country after the murders of Black Americans George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and others.
Removing the statues, which deify a murderous figure, is simply removing lipstick from a pig. It lays bare the real question we should be asking: Why is the county named for Andrew Jackson?
Whether the electorate votes to remove the statutes or not this November, what everyone must struggle with is why Jackson County honors a flawed man who has had so little to do with its history. Luckily, there is a beloved Jackson whom an overwhelming number of Jackson Countians would support honoring.
Bo Jackson’s athleticism is one of the great legends in our country’s sporting history. A human highlight reel, he excelled professionally at baseball and football and became known for his multidisciplinary expertise. The famous “Bo Knows” Nike commercial campaign played off his ability to use his physical gifts to excel at any sport thrown at him.
Bo spurned the New York Yankees who had selected him in the 1982 Major League Baseball draft, instead choosing to go to college. He eventually accepted a contract to play baseball with the Royals in 1986. His tenure with the team resulted in some of the all-time great highlights of Jackson County’s hometown team: When he defied gravity and ran up the outfield wall after an amazing catch. His inconceivable double leg kick to launch himself back on his feet after sliding into home plate on an inside the park home run. And his numerous tape-measure home runs, including his famous bomb to lead off the 1989 All-Star Game, which captivated the entire nation. Bo Jackson is a true icon of Jackson County.
By contrast, when Jackson County was founded on December 15, 1826, its namesake Andrew Jackson was not even president yet (he was elected in 1829). Our forebears named the county after him on the strength of his great wealth, made from his ownership of an enormous slave plantation called The Hermitage, and his renown as a military commander in several battles that took place far from Missouri.
Andrew Jackson, who to that point had little to do with the history of the county for which he is still named, would go on to become president. In that role, he forcefully advocated against abolition and for the enslavement of Black people whose servitude had made him his fortune. In 1830, he signed the Indian Removal Act, relocating most Native American tribes in the South by a forced march known as the Trail of Tears, resulting in the deaths of thousands. Jackson’s monstrous crimes far outshadow his contributions to American history, especially in light of our new racial reckoning and the acknowledgment of our country’s crimes against Black and Indigenous peoples.
In the public discourse about tearing down confederate statues and acknowledging that our Founding Fathers were slaveholders, some argue we should not judge previous centuries using present-day morality. What those folks misunderstand is that we can only judge previous centuries because of present-day morality. Many of the people who live in Jackson County today would simply not have basic human rights in the world envisioned by people such as Andrew Jackson. This is illustrated in a bit by the comedian Dave Chappelle, who imagined what would happen if he and a white man were to time travel to the American Revolution. They meet George Washington, whom his white friend praises as a great general — whereas Chappelle, a Black man, fears being enslaved and yells, “Run!”
By contrast, Bo Jackson inspires wonder, not fear, in the memories of Kansas Citians. On many occasions, I have sat my kids down to watch his highlights and regale them with stories of the years my dad took me to Kaufman (then still Royals) Stadium in hopes Bo would hit a ball into the fountains or, more likely, snap a bat over his knee like it was a twig.
As this country struggles with issues of race and accounts for its responsibility in oppressing racial minorities, it is not just time to set aside the problematic figures we previously elevated on pedestals. We should now also honor the contributions of newly-recognized heroes. Instead of a statue honoring a genocidal slaveholder who did little for the people of Jackson County, why not instead erect a new statute of a Black man who inspires pride and awe in its residents?
We can keep calling it Jackson County, but instead of Andrew we can all agree it honors Bo. Put up a statute of Bo Jackson snapping a hickory bat over his knee, and let’s call it a day.
Ahsan A. Latif is president of the Crescent Peace Society, a Kansas City interfaith organization.
This story was originally published September 2, 2020 at 5:00 AM with the headline "Don’t rename Jackson County — but let’s honor Royals great Bo, not slave owner Andrew."