Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean somebody isn’t out to get you. That pretty well sums up the personal philosophy of Andrew D. Jones. “Oh yes,” he says, “when I start explaining my ideas, people look at me kind of funny, like I been shooting up some of that brown Mexican heroin. But you know, injustices have been done, and I gotta speak the truth even if nobody’s paying attention. I’m like a stoplight that keeps flashing green, yellow, red–whether there’s any cars on the street or not. That’s what it does. That’s its job. I do what I have to.”
Jones’s misfortunes began in 1970. He has been fired from jobs. He’s seen his business ventures collapse or never get off the ground. His wife divorced him, and he has little contact with his children. He was even “defellowshiped” by the Jehovah’s Witnesses–an ironic development given that his passionate devotion to the group’s principles is at the root of a lot of his troubles. “I believe God will return to destroy wickedness,” he says. “Maybe not tomorrow, but justice will be done.” Meanwhile, he believes, it’s his duty to denounce injustice wherever he sees it.
Best of Chicago voting is live now. Vote for your favorites »
In 1969, before two years had passed, Jones took several days off because his wife was away on business and he didn’t want to leave their children unattended. He believed he was entitled to take the time off as unpaid personal business days. The postal authorities disagreed and fired him. Appeals were filed and hearings held, but union representatives and private attorneys couldn’t alter the decision. Jones insists their efforts were feeble and perfunctory.
Until 1979 Jones operated the Arena Driving School (whose colorful advertising posters, designed by Jones, can still be seen on the walls of abandoned south-side buildings). The school failed because customers were scarce and, he admits, he had shortcomings when it came to managing funds. His marriage came apart in the mid-1970s. His wife twice attempted to divorce him, but the proceedings were unsuccessful because Jones contested her charges of desertion. “I had to,” he says. “I was living in my own house. To go along with her claim would have been a lie.” She finally won her case, charging mental cruelty. “How can you contest mental cruelty?” he asks. “It’s whatever a person thinks it is.” His children, all of whom have gone to college (one recently returned from the Peace Corps), have no regular contact with him. Jones says they sided with their mother, who never understood his tenacious devotion to fundamentalist principles.
He gets an especially unfriendly reception on the air when he presents his suggestions for stemming the AIDS epidemic. “I looked up the word masturbation in a concordance of the Bible,” he explains. “And the word isn’t in there. So, as Saint Paul says, if there’s no law against something, there’s no transgression. I believe people who are drawn to excesses of sex should be encouraged to masturbate. I think it’s the best antidote.”
