A Rock-Solid FamilyFamily Handles Losses Together By MIKE ANTHONY | Courant Staff Writer September 1, 2007 
BASKETBALL is a family affair for the Jernigan family, who have two coaches and five players on the same team, Cambyland, in the Greater Hartford Pro-Am summer basketball league. Head coach Steven J. Johnson, center, coaches three of his sons, Jorelle, left, Anthony, second from right, and Corey Jernigan, right. Two of his nephews, Kenny Jernigan, to his immediate left, and Marcus Walcott, to his right, also play for the team, and Bruce Maddox, second from left, is an assistant coach. (BOB MACDONNELL / July 21, 2007)
EAST HARTFORDWedged into two couches along the walls, a bunch of Jernigans are gathered on this humid evening - Mooca, Dutt, Noonie, Ant, Stevie J and even Bruce Maddox, who's not technically a family member, but ...
"Oh, he's family," Stevie J says, nodding.
Stevie J has a small apartment but a big heart, big enough for anyone who crosses his path to feel as if they are, indeed, part of a family. The Jernigans are an expanding and massive bunch - more than 60 attended the annual family vacation in Hampton Beach, N.H., in July - yet one would be hard-pressed to find a more prideful, more personal unit. Anyway, several members of this family, celebrated wherever a basketball bounces in Greater Hartford, are gathered in the living room of "The Penthouse," a term of endearment for Stevie J's second-floor apartment, where they have come together to discuss their experiences playing for Cambyland in the Greater Hartford Pro-Am summer basketball league, talk hoops in general, reminisce about life and argue - playfully - over the smallest things, such as which direction the fan will point. Summer is coming to a close now, another summer spent playing basketball together.
About 200 trophies are stacked neatly in several corners and the walls are adorned with newspaper clippings, photos, even a letter from former Hartford Mayor Mike Peters, who wrote to thank Stevie J, a father of six and coach and mentor to many, for his lasting contributions to Bellevue Square, the Hartford project where the Jernigan family basketball tree began growing, a tree that has weaved up and down some of the city's toughest streets, through times of crisis and moments of joy.
Stevie J's branch extends outside the city lines now. He moved to East Hartford five years ago. Having come to the courtyard to greet a visitor, he holds his arms out, motioning toward the trees, and says, "I love it out here, man. You can hear a pin drop."
Upstairs, the topic is roots - how these nicknames came to be, what it was to grow up in a project, how they have leaned on one another, how the march down the right path started with the bounce of a ball.
Corey Jernigan, 28, the third-oldest of Stevie J's sons, is known as "Mooca."
Why?
"I really don't know," he says.
"It's a mama thing," Maddox says. "His mama just thought he looked like a Mooca."
There is a similarly vague explanation for his younger brother's nickname. Jorelle Jernigan, 26, isn't quite sure why he has always been known as "Dutt."
Kenny Jernigan, 28, chimes in with refreshing clarity. Known as "Noonie," he's sitting between his cousins.  Kenny Jernigan, center, goes up for a shot for Cambyland during the Hartford Pro-Am summer league at Fox Middle School. (BOB MACDONNELL / July 21, 2007) Kenneth Jernigan celebrates at his graduation from Hartford High School in 1998. SHANA SURECK / June 24, 1998) "My mom said I always liked to sleep until noon," he says. "So ... Noonie."
Next to Maddox on another couch is Anthony Jernigan, 15, Stevie J's youngest son. No nickname yet.
"Just Ant," Jorelle says. "Maybe when he gets to high school we'll give him a nickname."
A freshman at East Hartford High, Anthony is the most gifted Jernigan and, if all goes right, he could be the most remarkable since Charles "Duffy" Jernigan, whose greatness on the fields and courts of Hartford in the 1970s set the standard for every other Jernigan.
"I gave them all the name to live up to," he said.
All the guys, along with another cousin, Marcus Walcott, play together on Cambyland. Another cousin, Byron White, plays with the team in the Springfield Pro-Am - which Cambyland won this season - but played for another team in Hartford this summer. Stevie J, who helped raise Marcus Camby, a center for the NBA's Denver Nuggets, and many other youths in Bellevue, coached the team along with Maddox. With six Jernigans spanning an age range of 32 years, they don't have to work hard to find team chemistry. They've all been playing together longer than they can remember. And while they've never won the Hartford Pro Am - this year's run ended in the semifinals - each summer creates more stories to sift through on nights like this, when they sit around the living room.  Ken and Corey Jernigan pose in the Hartford High School gym in 1998.(TOM BROWN / March 13, 1998) "Basketball has done a lot for these kids," Stevie J says, stretched out on the floor. "It's saved these kids. They could have ended up dead, shot. I'm a proud father and uncle. I wouldn't do it any other way. I never had to go to jail for any of these guys, never got a call from the police. That's beautiful, man. That's a blessing. We come from a tough neighborhood, but they were able to maintain and stay focused. They could have went the other way, easy."
Father Figure
Stevie J is Steven J. Johnson, 47. Though never married, he was a partner of 26 years to Claudene "Deena" Jernigan, who died in June 2000. Their children took her last name. The couple also has another son, Steven Jernigan, 31; a daughter, Charisse "Moosa" Jernigan, 20; and an adopted son, Tyron White, 32.
"We didn't legally adopt him," Stevie J said. "My wife and I talked about it and decided we didn't need to go through the process. But he's my son. If we eat cereal, he eats cereal. If we eat steak, he eats steak."
Stevie J worked as a maintenance manager at McDonald's for 21 years and has been a custodian in Hartford the past five. His life is family and basketball, each leading to more of the other.
In the Bellevue days, Johnson, who played football and baseball at Hartford Public High School (Class of 1978), has been a community leader and organizer in the North End for much of his life. He has started, played and coached in various leagues. Anyone looking for a little guidance has always been welcome in his home.
On the courts of Hartford, Stevie J was given the moniker "The Mayor of Gotham," which soon became "The Mayor of Bellevue Square." Countless times, he said, he would wake in the morning to find a group of boys sleeping in his house. "Who's that?" he would ask Corey or Jorelle. It didn't matter. On his floor, he figured, was better than on Hartford's streets.
Stevie J is proud to have made something good of something so challenging. He is almost always smiling. He's curious, gregarious. He likes to say, "If the Lord say so!" when speaking of anything in the future.
The past? It's rich.
For 20-something years, Stevie J, his boys, their cousins and others have gathered for Sunday morning eggs and grits - still do when schedules permit. He followed and led the boys through all parts of Hartford, to all kinds of courts, into all kinds of leagues. There are enough stories to fill a magazine - or, in this case, several walls at The Penthouse.
"There's no room left," Stevie J likes to say. "No more wall space."
Family Strength
Deena was just as nurturing. Her death remains somewhat of a mystery. "Heart attack, I think," Stevie J said. Heartbreaking, he knows.
He met her when he was 14, playing softball in Bellevue. Twenty-six years and six children later, she was gone. Deena died June 5, 2000. She was 40. Stevie J felt like he had lost everything. He turned to his children and in-laws.
"It was very sudden, very tough," he said. "But I got my strength from them. The whole family pulled together - a lot of church, a lot of hugs."
Deena's death sent shockwaves through the family. To this day, his brothers say, Anthony has never talked about the death of his mother. Even Corey and Jorelle do not have a clear-cut answer as to why she died. Duffy Jernigan said losing a sister, mother and aunt ultimately led to a tighter bond.
"We all came together and got through that," Duffy said.
A family this large endures ups, downs, good and bad - Duffy recently lost his parents, too - but it's how they've handled loss, not the actual loss, that seems to define the Jernigans.
No one knows this better than Corey.
His son, Corey Jr., sick from the day he was born, died of cancer Nov. 12, 2002. He was 4.
"Personally, I didn't want to live," Corey said. "I was going to do something to get myself away. I couldn't deal with it. I didn't know how to deal with it. But my family helped me out, told me to be strong. I was close to going to the streets. I felt like life hadn't left me a choice." Corey didn't bounce a basketball for five months. How was he to remain strong for LaShonda, the child's mother and his partner for 16 years, when he had never felt so weak. And really, what can one say to someone who has just lost a son?
"There isn't much you can say," Byron White said. "You just have to be there."
Next In Line
Stevie J might have to clear some wall space at The Penthouse for Anthony. Though only 5 feet 8, he's better than any of the other Jernigans were at his age and has a chance - a chance, those close to him remind - to become one of the best players in Connecticut in recent years. This was Anthony's second year playing for Cambyland - an eighth-grader sharing the court with players such as Ryan Gomes of the Minnesota Timberwolves. Last year, he was something of a Pro-Am novelty.
"This [was] the first year where I could put him in and see him make a difference," Maddox said.
Anthony Jernigan, like most players coming into high school, has to improve his jump shot. But he is an advanced ball-handler and perimeter player, smart and tough from getting bumped around the courts by his cousins and brothers.
Each talks about him with such pride.
"He's going places," Kenny said. "For all of us."
The rest have gone places, the Jernigan tree expanding to Rhode Island and New York, the Hartford suburbs and jobs and lives each is proud of. Corey attended Hartford Public and Holyoke College and now works at the South Windsor Safe House. Jorelle went to Bulkeley and Rockland County College in New York and works at Pratt & Whitney. Kenny went to Hartford Public and Rhode Island College and is a case manager in Hartford. Walcott, 24, went to Weaver High and Morrisville (N.Y.) College and works at Pratt & Whitney. Byron White, 21, went to Rockville High and works at Pratt & Whitney. Anthony, of course, is just getting started. He's one of the top-rated high school freshman basketball players in New England. According to East Hartford coach Anthony Menard, Jernigan is "much further along" than Doug Wiggins was as a freshman. Wiggins, beginning his sophomore year at UConn, was the state high school player of the year in 2005.
"I say that with caution because Dougie made the biggest leap I've ever seen from his sophomore to junior year," Menard said. "But Anthony is really good, one of the best I've seen at his age. ... If he keeps working and stays on top of his grades, he's got a chance to be great."
Stevie J said each time one of his boys has left the house, it has been hard. And in a few years, when Anthony leaves for college, Stevie J expects to be lonely. Then again, it seems like he has a whole city to lean on.
"I might not be rich in money," he said, "but I'm rich in the heart."
Contact Mike Anthony at
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