Posted by T J McAniff on January 18, 2004:

Jesse was a part of my cadet life at West Point. He, like I, was not smart enough in matters mathematical and scientific to graduate with our entering class - 1955. We were unceremoniously cast out our first Plebe Christmas and turned back for another try with the Class of 1956. I got to know Jesse as a fellow inhabitant of the goat math and science sections. I'm sure each of us took some desperate comfort when the other was seated in a lower chair, thereby serving as a personal safety cushion when turn-out time rolled around. This was followed by a feeling of relief when we both survived one academic purge, only to face another and another ahead. Jesse told me during our second joust with plebe math, "Tom, fear not, we're home free. This place has never thrown out a guy who failed and entered with a succeeding class." I don't know to this day if Jesse was right, or just blowing smoke, as he was known to do, but I didn't dare question his version of the facts. It was too comforting; and that confidence may have helped get me through to graduation. What struck me most about Jesse was his absolute confidence in uncertain matters. This, accompanied by a healthy skepticism, a quick wit and a tart tongue combined to make him a formidable opponent in debate. I recall in cow year, during a last section electricity class, the "P" was attempting to explain television to his dummies - Jesse and I included - and, undoudbtedly noticing our glazed expressions, he asked, with a bit of a smirk, if anyone could explain color television, when electrons were known to be colorless. I'm sure he expected nothing more than a continuation of our dumbfounded silence. However, Jesse raised his hand and replied, somewhat along these lines, "Sir, the current scientific knowledge about electrons is obviously deficient; electrons must be colored to produce color television. There is no other credible explanation." The "P" was flabbergasted at this display of academic arrogance from a last section dolt, and responded, "Mr Blackwell, you are completely wrong." Jesse responded, in turn, "Sir, I beg to differ. Has anyone ever seen an electron?" "Uh, no, but we know anyway," the "P" stammered. It was Jesse's turn to smirk and he sat down, accompanied by the murmured applause of the class, who didn't know one way or another, but were glad to see one of their own set back a "P." Eventualy, I graduated twelve slots above Jesse, and when I reminded him of that, he would retort that this wasn't much to be proud of, considering that we both finished deep in the class order-of-merit trenches where fine distinctions of merit were irrelevant. Jesse and I went our separate ways after graduation, he to Artillery and then Transportation, and I to Infantry. We met again when we both found ourselves in Hawaii in the later stages of our military service. At a Founders Day Dinner years ago, Jesse told me that he hadn't much of a family life as a boy, and that West Point and the Army were the first and only homes he ever had. He was intensely committed to both. I thought then and again now how our Army rests upon the shoulders of officers like Jesse, not glamorous fast - trackers nor those shining with stars, but competent officers, devoted to our country's service, and dedicated to the precepts - Duty, Honor, Country. I was privileged to know him.

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