Celebrating Jackie Robinson Day

Understanding the importance of the man and that the job is not done

I regret that I was never was able to meet and shake Jackie Robinson’s hand before he passed away on Oct. 24, 1972, losing a long battle that many believe was related to the stress and diabetes that had shortened his Hall-of-Fame career. He had delivered, just weeks before, in Cincinnati, an impassioned World Series interview at Riverfront Stadium, talking about how far the game had come since he made his debut 26 years earlier, but also how far it had to go, especially with regard to the hiring of African-American managers, of which there were none, at the time.

But despite never meeting the man, I was fortunate enough in 1996 to meet and shake hands with his wife, then 74-year-old, Rachel Robinson, in the lobby of the Queen Elizabeth Hotel in Montreal, sitting down for a lengthy interview, mesmerized by her charisma, magnetism and the power of her personality.

I was researching a two-page feature for The Toronto Star, celebrating Jackie’s 50^th anniversary with the Royals. That encounter with Mrs. Robinson remains the most impressive person I have spoken to or interviewed in 53 years as a PR person and columnist. Rachel Robinson recently celebrated her 102^nd birthday and is still a vital part of the Foundation providing youth education opportunities.

Back in ‘96, Rachel was in town for dedication of a statue featuring Jackie, reaching out his hand to children, that the Expos had commissioned at the site of Delorimier Downs, home of the Royals. Montreal, of course, had played a major role in the pioneering Robinson journey. He had played the first season of his Dodgers’ career with the Triple-A Royals, in 1946. He was an invited CBC TV analyst for a handful of games in 1972, alongside Hall-of-Fame broadcaster Dave Van Horne. But I did not begin my MLB career with the Expos until Opening Day 1973.

The Montreal Royals season was a key tranche of Dodgers’ president Branch Rickey’s plan to integrate “America’s pastime”. He knew that Montreal, despite any flaws in the ranking of social acceptance, that this was the best chance to ease his man into the firmament of certain racism that was to come.

Now, rest assured, we are aware that there is still an undercurrent of racism everywhere in North America. Montreal was never exempt from that, but better than most. Back in ’96, I interviewed the late jazz pianist Charlie Biddle in a club that bore his name. I let him know the theme I was addressing and he began a slow burn. His dissent included athletes like Willie O’Ree, Robinson and others that had never made it but that Charlie insisted were victims of the quietly racist pro sports fraternity.

From a personal standpoint, still on that ’96 trip, I observed an example of the quiet attitude that Biddle insisted was still there. It was so subtle it may have been overlooked in other circumstance. The statue dedication press conference was about to get underway in a conference room of the Queen E. I was standing at the back. It had been a long day for Rachel and she quietly asked a hotel employee for a glass of water. He shushed her and said the program was about to begin. Moments later, the president’s wife, as he was beginning his praise of Jackie, asked the same employee for a glass of wine. He retreated and came back with, I assume, their finest white.

On April 15, all 30 MLB teams celebrated Jackie Robinson Day, the 78^th anniversary of his debut at Ebbets Field, Brooklyn, ending the disgraceful, unofficial 20^th Century colour barrier. Rachel was 23-years-old during that historic ’46 season with the Royals.

In past interviews, she called Montreal “Heaven on earth.” Without the success of that season, in a city that respected Jackie and Rachel’s privacy, allowing them to regroup in their adopted hometown, to take a deep breath, to feel that Rachel was safe when the team was on the road and to feel respected when the team was playing at home, with an understanding of what they would be up against in the majors, the Noble Experiment of Dodgers president Branch Rickey, may have ended in failure and set the American Civil Rights Movement back for years.

Rickey chose Robinson because he believed he had the necessary courage “not” to fight back and the necessary baseball skills to be an all-star. In that one season in Montreal, Jackie hit .349, with 113 runs, 66 RBIs, 25 doubles, eight triples, three homers and 40 steals. He was named International League MVP.

Among the incidents the Royals 27-year-old second baseman endured, was a black cat thrown onto the field in from of the Royals dugout in Syracuse, the visitors clubhouse in Baltimore, that was located as a separate building in deep right field, being surrounded by fans yelling they would lynch Robinson because of a hard slide in the game. They crowd dispersed well after midnight. It should be noted that one of the few teammates to remain with Jackie and confront the AAA-Orioles fans was Al Campanis, who went on to become Dodgers GM. Plus there were hotels that would not let him stay. restaurants that would not let him eat and the countless racial slurs being thrown from the stands and opposing dugouts.

There is no doubt that the Dodgers’ icon is the Most Important Player in major-league history. Certainly, Babe Ruth saved the sport from the gambling crisis of the 1919 World Series, famously labelled The Black Sox Scandal and Cal Ripken’s relentless work ethic saved the games reputation coming out of the great strike of ‘94, but Robinson’s contribution was more societal, as MLB’s vehicle for breaking the unwritten colour barrier that had existed since the late 19^th century via a wink-and-a-nod agreement among major-league owners to keep minority players excluded.

The arrival of Robinson to the NL and Larry Doby with the Indians, in the AL, wasn’t a Road to Damascus moment for every owner. The integration of the game was gradual. Consider, it took until 1959 before the Red Sox fielded its first black player, utility third-baseman Pumpsie Green.

Fenway Park, after all, had been a place where on April 16, 1945, while still with the Negro League’s Kansas City Monarchs, Jackie Robinson was offered a tryout in Boston. As he went through his paces, a voice from the shadows of the stands deep back in the lower deck yelled “Get the N--- off the field.” It should be noted that only team employees were in the ballpark at that time.

So, celebrate how far pro sports has come, but acknowledge how far society has to go. Hopefully players that choose to wear the No. 42 jerseys for Tuesday’s games, understand the significance and feel the responsibility to the man that they honour.