Leon Valentine Hobbs III: A Life Well Lived

Ten years ago, I created a program in my capacity as Director of the African American and African Studies Community Extension Center at The Ohio State University called Enemies of the State. No, this title was not appropriated from the movie starring Gene Hackman and Will Smith. The title actually had real-world implications. Enemies of the State was a program that played host to members of some of the most widely known militant and radical organizations of the 1960s and 70s. The purpose was two-fold: a) to introduce students and community residents to activists that they may have read about, but otherwise would not have had the opportunity to meet, and b) more importantly, over the years, I grew tired of being peppered with questions from students and other young people that went like this, Dr. Jeffries what are some things that our generation can do to bring about change? Having heard that question one too many times I decided to create a program that afforded young people the chance to interact with and query some of America’s most effective change agents. These change agents were, according to local, state, and federal law enforcement, Enemies of the State. Hence the name.

In the program’s first year, we invited two gentlemen of the famed Black Panther Party, arguably the most prominent militants of the Black Power movement and the organization that FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover disingenuously labeled “the greatest threat to the internal security of the United States.” Thus, Aaron Dixon and Leon Valentine Hobbs III were the program’s inaugural guests. Both men had been members of the Seattle, Washington, chapter of the Black Panther Party, with Dixon being the chapter’s head. Eventually, both men would be summoned to Oakland when the organization’s leadership made the decision to centralize its bases of operations. Although Dixon, Hobbs, and I had had many conversations in the years leading up to their visit, this was my first time actually meeting them.

Neither gentleman was asked to deliver a presentation, instead their visit resembled that of an actor’s studio. At the front of the room sat Dixon and Hobbs alongside one another while this writer sat a short distance away with only a small end-table separating him from his guests. Less than 10 feet away was the audience. In the audience sat three individuals, two men and a woman draped in Panther-like garb and professed to be disciples of former Chief of Staff David Hilliard. Dixon and Hobbs were unmoved.

For approximately 40 minutes, Dixon, Hobbs, and I engaged in a fairly in-depth conversation about their lives inside the Party, that was characterized by a grueling nonstop schedule that included, among other things, selling newspapers daily to providing residents with an array of Community Survival Programs to staving off attacks by the police. The exchange was lively and informative. At the conclusion of the interview members of the audience were allowed to ask questions. The respect that members of the audience displayed for Dixon and Hobbs was evident in the way questions were phrased, in peoples’ body language, and the silence that enveloped the room when the men were talking. When the program ended, some members of the audience approached the front of the room where my guests and I were standing to shake the hands of Dixon and Hobbs, others wanted autographs, while others stood close by as they eavesdropped on questions that others were asking. After about 15 minutes or so, the three of us, along with a few community residents, went to a nearby restaurant for dinner.

In April 2016, I had an opportunity to visit with Hobbs again, this time at his home in Washington, DC. I was visiting relatives in DC and thought I’d check on Hobbs before leaving the area; it was the day after Prince died. On his porch we sat, as I sought his take on future research projects and the like regarding the Black Panther Party. I could tell though that Hobbs had slowed down considerably. His physical condition...