In a
word, Ben had “style.”
Born on
November 28, 1919 to a dentist and a school teacher,
Benjamin Franklin Jones was about as middle class as
society would allow African Americans to be at that
time. According to Judge H.T. Lockard (a longtime
colleague and friend), Ben Jones was “handsome,
studious, and always impeccably dressed.” Lockard met
Jones in 1940, when Jones was a senior and Lockard was
an entering freshman at LeMoyne College (which would
later merge with Owen College to form today’s Lemoyne
Owen College). As undergraduates, Lockard and Jones both became
members of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Inc. Jones also
grew closely acquainted with another LeMoyne student and
future outstanding Memphian – Benjamin L. Hooks. All
three gentlemen took several college classes from a
popular LeMoyne professor, Mr. Arvis “A.A.” Latting,
Sr., who also happened to be a practicing attorney (one
of the very few black lawyers in Memphis at that time). Latting would prove to be an inspiration
and valuable mentor for many young black students in the
1940s, including Ben F. Jones.
Ben
Jones served his country in World War II as a Staff
Sergeant in the United States Army. After the war,
Jones attended Lincoln University Law School – a small
historically black institution outside of St. Louis, Missouri (where Lockard was also a student). In law school,
Jones’ tenacity and fearlessness often pushed him to the
forefront of campus life.
On one
occasion, Jones and some of his classmates discovered
that one of the school’s most popular faculty members –
while having earned a juris doctor degree – had
never actually taken the bar exam in any state.
Refusing to settle for what may have been perceived as a
substandard education, Jones and others pressured the
dean of the law school to rectify this ordinarily
disqualifying omission. Finally, the dean announced
that the professor’s contract would not be renewed
unless he took and passed the bar exam – which the
professor promptly did.

After
the summer of 1948, Jones returned to campus for the
start of fall classes, only to find the dean’s office
conspicuously empty and his duties neglected for weeks
on end. It was rumored that the dean was busy
campaigning for a vice presidential candidate with whom
he had prior professional ties. In yet another display
of sheer doggedness, Jones led a mobilization of
students to bring the dean’s unauthorized absence to the
attention of the Board of Trustees, which ultimately
demanded the dean’s immediate return to his post. Jones
never shied away from such controversial and often risky
demonstrations, and he unabashedly refused to negotiate
the standards of his own education and professional
development.
Ben F.
Jones received his Tennessee license to practice law in
1949. Like all other black lawyers of the time, Jones’
license was mailed to him several months after passing
the bar – and several months after his white
counterparts had been publicly recognized in a formal
induction ceremony for the same achievement. The
by-laws of the Memphis Bar Association forbade blacks to
join whatsoever. The American Bar Association
reservedly permitted black members, but blacks were not
allowed to attend any social functions or rent hotel
rooms at convention venues. Despite these impediments,
Jones persisted in his endeavor to engage in a
meaningful legal practice. Armed with stubbornness,
education, and licensure, Jones reunited with his
college mentor, A.A. Latting, who invited Jones, H.T.
Lockard, and Benjamin Hooks to join his law practice.
The three newcomers each agreed to lease space in
Latting’s office at 362 Beale Street, but Latting
somehow never brought himself to collect a single
month’s rent from his young protégés.
Latting,
Lockard, Hooks, and Jones each worked as general
practitioners, honing a diverse array of practice
specialties to include divorce, personal injury,
criminal defense, real estate, and probate. While the
office technically had no white clients, teams of white
lawyers from large firms would often call upon Mr.
Latting to assist with controversial cases –
particularly where black criminal defendants, black
plaintiffs, or key black witnesses were involved.
Latting, Lockard, Hooks, and Jones also spearheaded most
of the local civil rights cases of that time – many of
which were of immeasurable social import – and each
lawyer ultimately became a specialist in his own right.
Jones played a notable role in the legal strategy
sessions that took place in preparation for the criminal
defense of those arrested in the lunch counter sit-ins
at the downtown Walgreens at Madison and Main – which
still stands and (ironically) now serves a host of
current Ben F. Jones chapter members every day.
Benjamin Hooks described Jones as “a very fine lawyer”
who was “loyal, honest,” and “a man of integrity.”
Hooks and Jones had lunch together daily for many
years. Hooks distinctly remembers income tax season at
Latting’s office, when he and Jones would charge their
clients five dollars to help decipher and properly
complete the complicated IRS forms. Hooks and Jones
often stood on the outside steps of 362 Beale and
offered tax assistance to random passers-by. The two of
them soon found themselves engaged in a friendly
professional competition for clientele and revenues.
Eventually, Hooks, Jones, and Lockard branched off from
A.A. Latting to establish their own practices. Soon
added to their professional circle were James Estes (who
had begun a solo practice in the late 40s) and S.A.
Wilbun (who relocated his practice from Arkansas to
Memphis in the mid 50s). These men fought their
way through color lines, and each in turn would earn the
respect of whites and blacks alike. Still,
it soon came to their attention that despite their
proven legal acumen, there were white attorneys
who often ridiculed the work product of black lawyers
as slovenly and unkempt. This deeply concerned the
group,
which had learned from A.A. Latting the immeasurable
importance of immaculate presentation.

In
keeping with the principles that Latting had instilled
over ten years prior, the group held a meeting to address these critical issues. In
attendance were those who have come to be known as “The
First Five” – H.T. Lockard, Benjamin Hooks, S.A. Wilbun,
James Estes, and Ben F. Jones. Thus, on an otherwise
unremarkable Sunday afternoon in 1960, five African
American members of the bar convened at the law office
of H.T. Lockard to make local history. Unbeknownst to
them at the time, this unassuming assembly of lawyers
would later prove to be the dawn of the Memphis Chapter
of the National Bar Association.
At that
initial meeting in 1960, the five attorneys pledged
never to validate the pervasive stereotype that African
American professionals were in any way inferior. They
started by challenging each other to always ensure that
their substantial legal acumen was properly reflected in
the flawless appearance of their work product. Then and
there, these men set professional standards for
themselves – even resolving to more regularly clean and
replace the worn parts on their typewriters, which were
otherwise subject to unsightly smudging and illegible
print.
From
then on, the First Five convened once a month on
Saturdays for informal study sessions on self
improvement and professional development. Over the next
few years, they were joined by such noteworthy pioneers
as Russell Sugarmon, A.W. Willis, Arthur Bennett, James
Swearengen, Ira Murphey, and Johnny Johnson – each of
whom played his respective role in the overall
diversification and enhancement of the Tennessee bar.
Finally, in 1966, the group committed to officially
chartering itself as the Memphis chapter of the National
Bar Association – the oldest and largest alliance of
attorneys of color in the world.
As the
NBA partnership was being solidified, Ben Hooks recalls
one day in particular, when Ben F. Jones was especially
hard at work. Hooks approached Jones around midday and
asked if Jones was through working, so they could go to
lunch together as usual. Jones prophetically replied,
“I’ll never get through.” Just a few days later, Ben F.
Jones succumbed to a sudden heart attack. He was
forty-seven years old. Not long after Jones’ death,
Johnny Johnson spearheaded the official chartering of a
Memphis chapter of the NBA, which
would be borne out of the same study group that had been
meeting informally for years. With unanimous
support from the group, the newly created Memphis chapter
was named after the late Ben F. Jones.
Benjamin Franklin Jones is currently buried with fellow
veterans at the National Cemetery on Jackson Avenue in
Memphis. His wife, Katherine R. Jones, is laid to rest
by his side. Jones and his wife bore no children, but
his name survives indefinitely through the Ben F. Jones
Chapter of the NBA, just as the chapter’s founders
intended. It has been said that Ben Jones’ greatest
strength was that in times of immeasurable fear and
uncertainty, he was simply not afraid. The organization
that now bears his name is committed, like he was, to
“never get through” with diligent efforts towards
self-improvement and professional excellence. Due
largely to the momentous strides and uncompromising
standards of Ben Jones and his contemporaries, present
day attorneys of color remain inspired never to allow
their reputations or their goals to be “smudged” – by
faulty typewriters, by social inequities, or by any
other obstacle that may come their way.
