2022-23 President Jennifer Jones is eager to advance Rotary’s narrative

Jennifer Jones, Rotary International’s first female president, is the perfect leader to spread the word about the good Rotary does in the world, and inspire its members to keep going.

By Diana Schoberg Photography by Monika Lozinska

At a training seminar for Rotary club presidents-elect at a Dallas-area hotel in February, sergeants-at-arms wearing yellow vests and Stetsons lead participants, grouped by Rotary district, into a small room for a photo op with 2022-23 Rotary International President Jennifer Jones. As the groups enter, the club leaders mob Jones — the room a flurry of handshakes, fist bumps, hugs, and the occasional squeal. For each photo, the Stetson-clad Rotarians (nicknamed "Rangers") give instructions on who should stand where, then Jones, who is seated front-row center, stands up, turns around, and warms up the crowd. "Is this the best district?" she asks one. She challenges a district to dance, busting a groove on the tan and gray patterned hotel carpet. Another, she teases, is the best looking. And then there's the "party" district, whose members give a raucous cheer.

The groups file out. More than a few people linger to get selfies with Jones and her husband, Nick Krayacich. One young woman, dressed in cobalt blue, shouts, "Congratulations and thank you for being a leader for women in Rotary!" More cheers. She and Jones bump fists as she departs.

"She's just amazing. She's a rock star," says Rhonda Walls Kerby, past governor of District 5890, who has been observing the scene.

When the photo session is finished, Jones signs several Star Wars collectors' helmets that will be auctioned at an upcoming district conference in Houston. She pulls on a Stormtrooper helmet. The phones of the Rotarians still in the room shoot up in unison to capture the moment.

"She makes everyone feel special. That's why everyone feels like they are best friends with Jen," says Eric Liu. Liu met Jones at the International Assembly in 2016, when he was an incoming district governor and she was the incoming RI vice president, and they hit it off.

Liu's sentiment is among the common refrains heard during a whirlwind weekend traveling with Jones. Over and over, people mention that she has an easy way with people, that for years everybody "knew" she would be the first female Rotary president, that she's a new kind of leader.

And that she's the leader Rotary needs right now.

The laughter in the room grows to a warm buzz as Jones jokes around with her friends. But it's been a long day after an exhausting trip. Jones and Krayacich spent nine hours in the airport the previous day due to weather delays, then had to solve logistical issues with their travel to Dallas. They are in bed by 11, a brief respite before the pre-presidential duties start all over again the next day.

“She believes in something that is so necessary. This time calls for peace and unity, for embracing despite our differences.”

Jones, 55, was born in Windsor, Ontario, and — save for a few post-college years working in the Turks and Caicos Islands and Manhattan — has lived there her whole life. The oldest of three children, she'd run lemonade stands to earn money to give to charity, and recalls organizing a carnival in her family's yard to benefit kids with muscular dystrophy. "Growing up, my parents had given us wings to do service in our community," she says. Today, her mom, dad, and one of her brothers and his wife are Rotarians. Her other brother created a painting that inspired Jones' presidential-theme ties and scarves.

Both Jones and Krayacich are originally from Windsor, but the two met in the Caribbean. Burned out after finishing university and working in the newsroom at a radio station, Jones took time off and worked at a resort in the Caribbean, while Krayacich, a physician, had just finished his internship in Toronto and went to the islands to go scuba diving. They struck up a friendship, and when they both eventually moved back to Windsor, they started dating and got married shortly thereafter.

In many ways, Krayacich, the governor-nominee of District 6400, is the opposite of Jones. He's quieter and more serious, preferring one-on-one conversations, traits that are suited to his vocation. "Jennifer is definitely an Energizer Bunny. She's outgoing and very much a connector," he says. "We complement each other very well."

Jones started her own television production company when she was in her late 20s, wowing bank officials with her business plan, negotiating a lease, and investing in hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of equipment. "I've always wanted to carve my own path," she says. "Sometimes that's meant taking risks and making yourself open to new experiences."

One of those was Rotary. As a rookie radio reporter in the late 1980s, she'd covered the organization and remembers attending club meetings where the members were nearly all men. "I remember feeling very intimidated by the experience," she says. "I was in my early 20s. It was the power brokers of the community." Fast forward to 1996, months after she'd started her business, Media Street Productions. The manager of the local cable station invited Jones to a meeting. She realized she had found her home. "It was clearly one of the greatest gifts I've ever received," she says. "I didn't think walking through the door that day that it would change the trajectory of my life."

The next day at the Dallas training seminar, during a soup and salad lunch, the 1980 Kool & the Gang song "Celebration" blares over the speakers. People around the hotel ballroom begin to dance, clapping and swaying to the music. Among them is Jones, waving a colorful light stick above her head. She dances among the tables, stopping for a selfie here, a hug there, grooving with the crowd. The flash mob lines up in front of the stage, Jones at the center. When the song ends, Past RI Director Don Mebus introduces Jones, who makes a heart with her hands as she arrives onstage

Her speech brings listeners through the full range of emotions. As she speaks about witnessing a pediatric heart surgery in Jordan, the room is so quiet you could hear a Paul Harris Fellow pin drop. When she finishes, the crowd stands and erupts in applause. But there is no time to bask in it. Jones has a plane to catch. The emcee asks the throngs of enthusiastic Texans to please let her through. And with that, she's off to the airport, her sprint aided by a pair of purple sneakers that she wears throughout the trip ("I save heels for when I'm presenting," she says). She doesn't like to eat before she speaks, so now she grabs a bag of chips and settles into her seat to rest.

Four hours later, she arrives in Los Angeles for another presidents-elect training seminar. Tonight's duties involve stopping by the hospitality suites to meet Rotarians from the participating districts. In one room, Rotarians drinking umbrella-festooned mai tais mingle as Hawaiian music emanates from speakers decorated with grass skirts. Jones barely makes it in the door before she is again swarmed by Rotarians eager to meet her. Randy Hart, 2022-23 governor of district 5000 (Hawaii), presents her with a lei. "All I can think about is the energy she has," comments one man. "To think, this is the third room she's visited!"

Lakecia King is one of the well-wishers, embracing Jones when they meet. "She's so warm and genuine," says King, the incoming president of the Rotary Club of East Honolulu and the diversity, equity, and inclusion chair for District 5000. Eight weeks out from surgery for a torn meniscus, King has flown from Hawaii for this opportunity, drawn by Jones' rally for diversity in Rotary. "I was not going to miss it for the world," King says. "She believes in something that is so necessary. This time calls for peace and unity, for embracing despite our differences and based on what we have in common."

Jones finally makes it to the back of the room, where she's swept into a hula dance with seven other women in front of an "Aloha" backdrop. She visits a few more of the hospitality suites and ends in that of District 5500 (Arizona), where she chats with a circle of Rotarians. As she raises her glass to leave the room — "Well, cheers, everybody!" — an older woman with close-cropped white hair calls out, "Thank you for being the first!" Jones responds, not missing a beat: "But not the last."