Joe Jenkins ran afoul of drugs...and himself
by Barry Henderson
One of the sad personal tragedies of the last quarter-century in Knoxville came to a close Monday with the death of Joe Jenkins, Knox County's sheriff from 1976 to 1982.
I know it's customary to address the dead as Mr., but I can't bring myself to do that, and I mean no disrespect for the man when I call him by his first name. That's what I always called him, back when we were close friends. Joe was an extremely likeable, dynamic and ambitious young man from one the most respected families in the region when he first ran for sheriff.
Under his guidance, the sheriff's department was pulled by its bootstraps and his abilities from what has been called the dark ages. Joe's talent for writing and securing federal grants improved the department's equipment, its deputies' salaries, and its overall performance of its mission. Morale in most of the department could hardly have been higher.
That whole pleasant picture was ripped apart in 1982, Knoxville's World's Fair year, when Joe's addiction to cocaine became evident in the midst of his reelection campaign. He lost, and the drug demon took him down from there. A later bid for election as county executive came to less than naught. He spent the rest of his years as a recovering addict who never fully recovered.
His low point, at least in terms of his once-promising career, came in the mid-'90s, when he was convicted of interstate transport of a stolen truck and was sent to federal prison. By then, the charges against him weren't a shock. Surprising, maybe, but not shocking. He was thought to be trying to regain some of his old stature, but his demon pulled him back into desperation and crime.
Joe lost a wife, his childhood sweetheart, in the process of that interstate-theft episode, and although he theoretically dried out in prison, that sobering experience didn't take. He was addicted to narcotic drugs and never really stopped using them or abusing himself for long.
The son of a Republican kingpin, the genteel lawyer Aubrey Jenkins, who hosted many a GOP rally at his northeast Knox County showplace farm—and who reputedly decided many an election in the farmhouse—Joe rose to sheriff pretty honestly. He directed the county's successful pre-trial release program, learning grant-writing skills there, and was an appealing and hard-working candidate. He had a criminal justice degree in law enforcement and police planning from MTSU and had been selected for one of those Jaycees' outstanding young men of the year honors for his community service.
Everything was going for him when he took office. His reputation as a "hail fellow well met" at best and a rowdy rake at worst followed him there, though, and at least at times his behavior attracted attention and controversy.
There was the occasion when he shot up his Jeep with his pistol, for instance, and another time in which he led Knoxville Police on an extended vehicle chase around town. When finally cornered, he told them he himself had been chasing a mysterious "red car" that never turned up.
Jim Dykes, Joe's friend (and associate during the time when the sheriff's only known demon was rum and other alcoholic spirits) remembers being with Joe in the bar of the old Hyatt, now the Marriott, when an angry constituent approached them. Dykes says the man remonstrated Joe, asking what he was doing drinking in public and consorting with the likes of Dykes, a newspaper columnist and self-described reprobate. Without a blink, Joe answered, "I'm still looking for that...red car," and the two left the man standing agape. They headed for the Corner Lounge or somewhere, Dykes says.
Joe's descent into drugs went from bad, in his later years in office, to worse as he tried to get into legitimate business with the help of his father and others. Aubrey Jenkins gave his son second and third chances. None worked out.
Joe hung out with a tough crowd for a while and relished the associations. He would joke about his "problem" when confronted with it by at least one friend, me. But it kept him down and, eventually, it contributed mightily to taking him out. What a waste of a bright, capable, even loveable person. Joe Jenkins could have had it all, perhaps, or at least a lot of it. He was talked of as congressional timber. He made few enemies and lots of friends. He discarded all of those trump cards for drugs. It became a hopeless addiction, damn it. He was 58 when he died in hospice.
His funeral guestbook is online at www.stevensmortuary.com.
January 2, 2003 * Vol. 13, No. 1
© 2003 Metro Pulse
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