The summer of 1960 was a special season for me.  As a young lad I got my first glimpse of the legendary Jackie Robinson during a political tour.  He was campaigning for Republican presidential candidate Richard Milhous Nixon.  As a brash, up-and-coming little league player, I knew everything about this icon and the impact that the now-retired Jackie Robinson had had on breaking baseball’s color barrier back in 1947.  I had copied his pigeon-toed style of running and tried holding my bat high above my big head and flat chest to emulate his batting stance.  And now #42 was coming to my town to give a campaign speech on behalf of a presidential candidate.

Lucky for me, Municipal Stadium, home of the Kansas City A’s, was only five blocks from where I sorted and traded my baseball cards and stuffed them in a cigar box, under the bed.  I attended a lot of ball games, but I never got to see this great athlete play in person. Unfortunately, teams in the American League, like the A's, never hosted the rival National League clubs like the Brooklyn Dodgers.  Seeking this ever-lasting opportunity to see Robinson in the flesh would be the ultimate thrill.

I asked my father to take me downtown to see Mr. Robinson speak on behalf of tricky Dicky.  My pleading request was met with a puzzling and concerned look from my father.  Years later I discovered that my father was a Democrat.  Reluctantly he took me to the Music Hall auditorium, fulfilling my Robinson fantasy.  With the exception of Mr. Robinson, my father and I appeared to be the only black folks in the hall.  Overcoming the uninvited stares, nothing would keep me for seeing this man among men, that I had read so much about.

My father and I sit in the balcony and it seemed like an eternity, as each speaker strolled to the podium to deliver promises that even a 10-year kid knew they would not keep.  Needless to say, each speaker struck out with me. 

Finally the man of the hour appeared. Sitting on the edge of my seat, I recalled his high-pitched voice, his pre-maturely gray hair, his chubby belly, his eloquent delivery and his professional demeanor, as I stared in awe.  I remember little of what he said, but recalled how professional and sincere his presentation seemed.

It took a lot of prodding to get my Democratic father to chauffeur me to the event, but he knew, like many of us, the impact this Barrier Breaker had on the socialization of races through the integration of our National Pastime.  I  knew from that day forth Mr. Jackie Robinson would become my role model for sports and beyond.  For these reasons, and many others, I chose to honor number 42, Jackie Robinson, as part of my website.   

 

Presidential Eulogy

On October 24^th, 1972, President Richard M. Nixon (1969-74) issued the following statement on the death of Jackie Robinson.

“I AM deeply saddened by the death of Jackie Robinson.  His courage, his sense of brotherhood, and his brilliance on the playing field brought a new human dimension not only to the game of baseball but to every area of American life where black and white people work side by side.  This Nation to which he gave so much in his lifetime will miss Jackie Robinson, but his example will continue to inspire us for years to come.

Mrs. Nixon joins me in sending our deepest sympathies and condolences to the Robinson family.”

Robert H. Finch, Counselor to the President, represented Pres. Nixon at the funeral services held in New York City on October 27, 1972.

 

Presidential Honor

In March of 2002, his widow Rachel Robinson received the Congressional Gold Medal, the highest congressional civilian award, from President George Bush. 

  

 

 "Jackie Robinson made it possible for me in the first place.  Without him, I would have never been able to do what I did." - Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

 

The Jackie Robinson Story . . .

 

Starring Ruby Dee as Rachel Robinson (wife), Louise Beavers as Mallie Robinson (mother), Joel Fluellen as Mack Robinson (brother), and Jackie Robinson as himself. 

The five-star movie was released in 1950. 

 

The Trailer below . . . .