Jackie Robinson (65 page)

Despite Jack’s efforts, Kennedy defeated Humphrey in Wisconsin. Early in June, his nomination practically assured, Kennedy finally responded to Robinson’s attacks with a letter to the New York
Post
defending his civil rights record. In the same issue, however, Robinson accused the senator of making only token campaign appearances before blacks and only guarded statements of support for the sit-in demonstrations in the South. “
I could go on,” Robinson wrote, following a laundry list of Kennedy’s errors and unfortunate associations. “When and if Kennedy firmly and vigorously repudiates the actions and policies of this crowd,” he went on, “I will be happy to reevaluate my position. But as long as he continues to play politics at the expense of 18,000,000 Negro Americans, then I repeat: Sen. Kennedy is not fit to be the President of the U.S.”

Meanwhile, Robinson and Nixon’s relationship was strengthened by a luncheon meeting in Washington also attended by Attorney General Rogers. Later, Jack published the text of a cozy letter to him (“
Dear Jackie”) in which Nixon asserted the integrity of the American Negro vote and the “strength” of his position on civil rights, and offered two key reasons for supporting civil rights. The first had to do with foreign policy and the international reputation of the United States versus “atheistic communism.” The second was economic; any denial of “the full talent and energies” of black America was an example of “stupidity of the greatest magnitude.” Mentioning their luncheon meeting, the letter offered a sense of an easy intimacy between the men. Still, Jack took pains to appear independent. “Contrary to some published reports,” his column concluded, “this corner thus far is still uncommitted to any candidate for the Presidency, now that Sen. Humphrey has withdrawn. I repeat, however, that I see no reason why Nixon should not be considered as seriously as anyone else.” Because his “actual record and position” on important issues deserved support, “many of Nixon’s critics will find themselves taking a second look, before making up their minds.”

Deciding finally to do something about Robinson’s opposition, Kennedy then invited him to Washington. Early in July they met at the home of Chester Bowles, the former governor of Connecticut, who, as chairman of the Platform Committee at the forthcoming Democratic convention, would help shape campaign policy on civil rights. Arriving at this meeting skeptical about Kennedy, Robinson left even less of an admirer. As he later complained, Kennedy was courteous but would not look him in the eye, which Jack considered a sure sign of insincerity; and the senator’s candid admission that he did not know many Negroes, or “the Negro,” angered Jack. “
Although I appreciated his truthfulness in the matter, I was appalled that he could be so ignorant of our situation and be bidding for the highest office in the land.” When Kennedy asked what it would take to get Robinson’s support, Jack hurried to take offense. “Look, Senator,” he recalled telling Kennedy, “I don’t want any of your money. I’m just interested in helping the candidate who I think will be best for the black American.”

On this antagonistic note, the meeting ended. A few days later, at Robinson’s request, Kennedy sent him a written statement about civil rights. In it, the senator defended his meeting with Governor Patterson as an obligation of his office, and affirmed his desire to see “
an end to all discrimination—in voting, in education, in housing, in employment, in the administration of justice, and in public facilities including lunch counters.” As with Nixon’s letter, Jack published this statement in full. However, he did not hide his doubts about Kennedy, “an impressive man” who admitted his “limited experience” with blacks but was “sincere” and “willing to learn.” Making it clear that “this corner does not endorse his candidacy,” Jack vowed to continue to scrutinize his record. “Sen. Kennedy is a little late in seeking to make himself clear, after 14 years in Congress. But if he is sincere, there is still time to catch up.”

Soon after the meeting, Robinson received an invitation to join Chester Bowles on the Platform Committee but declined it. He then turned the senator’s admission of ignorance against him by pointing to voting-rights abuses in Tennessee from which Kennedy might learn—if indeed he wished to learn. Later, when Jack congratulated the Democratic convention meeting in Los Angeles for adopting a bold program on civil rights, he barely mentioned Kennedy in giving “
the lion’s share of credit” to Bowles for “sticking to his guns” in the face of segregationists. When Kennedy chose as his running mate Lyndon Johnson, Jack struck again. Kennedy’s choice was “
a bid for the appeasement of Southern bigots.” Asked to choose between a fence-sitting presidential nominee who had tied himself to “a proven segregationist,” and a probable nominee (Nixon)
with a “better-than-average” civil rights record who was unlikely to make such a choice, “I know how I, for one, shall cast my vote in November. I do not pretend to speak for anyone else. But I have a hunch I’m going to have plenty of company.”

Robinson’s picture of Johnson was in no way farfetched; Johnson, who later would provide the most radical leadership on civil rights by a President since Abraham Lincoln, was widely perceived in 1960 as a segregationist. But many liberals were prepared to accept him and the support he would bring from the South, in order to aid Kennedy’s election. Jack pounced again when the news broke that Kennedy had invited Governor Faubus of Arkansas to sit on the platform as he made his acceptance speech at the convention. Ignoring the senator’s protest that he had invited every Democratic governor to attend, Jack denounced him. “
It is now clearer than ever,” he wrote in the
Post,
“that John Kennedy is first and foremost a cold, calculating political machine.”

Robinson’s condemnation of the Kennedy-Johnson ticket brought many protests from a wide cross-section of
Post
readers, including those who pointed out that the coming election was about more than civil rights. Dismissing most of these objections as patronizing, Robinson vowed to keep up his opposition even as he looked at other candidates—to wit, Nixon. However, Nixon’s choice of a running mate (Henry Cabot Lodge of Massachusetts, the United States ambassador to the United Nations), in addition to his vigorous fight at the convention against conservative elements in his party, notably Senator Barry Goldwater of Arizona, settled the matter once and for all for Robinson: “
The battle lines are now clearly drawn.” The following month, when the Democrat-dominated Senate voted to table civil rights proposals advanced by Senator Jacob Javits of New York, Robinson laid the blame at Kennedy’s feet: “
Faced with this kind of continued fence-hopping from the Democratic nominee, is it any wonder that millions of American voters are wondering just where Kennedy—and under his leadership the Democratic party—really stands?”

The feeling between Robinson and the Kennedys, already sour, took a turn for the worse. At the center was an organization, the African-American Students Foundation, of which Robinson was a trustee, which sought to bring a group of about 240 African students to study at colleges and universities in the United States. The organization had grown out of the response by Robinson, Belafonte, and Poitier to a plea by Tom Mboya of Kenya for help in allowing young Africans to travel to the U.S.A. to attend school. In 1959, when Jack devoted a column to Project Airlift Africa, more than eighty students were able to come after Robinson, Belafonte, and Poitier wrote to a number of their friends and acquaintances. Now, in 1960,
Robinson and others asked the State Department for assistance, which was denied. John Kennedy, on behalf of the Kennedy Foundation, controlled by his family, then offered the project a gift of $5,000. At this point, Robinson moved to use his connections to Nixon to make the State Department reconsider its decision; clearly, he hoped to use the project to burnish Nixon’s image among blacks. But Jack’s attempt backfired.

On August 17, his
Post
column announced brightly that “
an aide to Vice President Nixon” had just called with great news: the State Department would pay for the transportation of the students from Africa, at a cost of about $100,000. “Incidentally,” Robinson went on, “it is no accident that an aide of the Vice President was the one to call me about this.” Nixon, who had visited Africa “not long ago,” had expressed “immediate and deep interest” in the project. The column made no mention of the initial response of the State Department, or of Nixon’s pressure on State at Robinson’s urgent request. But in his next column, Jack made a baleful admission: “
I don’t mind admitting it: I was wrong.” The State Department would not be supporting the students. As Jack explained, Sargent Shriver, Senator Kennedy’s brother-in-law, had boldly offered the African-American Students Foundation more than $400,000 from the Kennedy Foundation, enough to support the project for three years. The student organization had then accepted the offer, and without consulting Robinson. “Disappointed at not being kept abreast of events,” Jack was left to apologize to his readers for having misinformed them.

Jack’s embarrassment was still fresh a few days later when Robert Kennedy came to town. On a radio interview program, Kennedy launched a broad attack on Robinson’s credibility. Kennedy accused Robinson of being William Black’s antilabor tool at Chock Full o’ Nuts, who “
used his race to defeat a union shop there.” Black himself, according to Kennedy, was a longtime Republican (in fact, Black was a registered Liberal). In return, flinging vitriol of his own, Robinson denounced Bobby Kennedy as a man “
who will not hesitate to use lies, innuendoes and personal attacks on those who disagree with him to get his candidate into the White House.” But Jack was on the defensive again when, on the floor of the Senate, John Kennedy questioned the propriety of the State Department’s involvement in the African students project and possible interference in the election campaign. Kennedy, in a position supported (to Jack’s consternation) by the African-American Students Foundation, argued that State had entered its bid only after his own foundation had pledged to support the airlift. In a column on August 29, hotly disputing this version, Robinson provided a detailed chronology that appeared to support his main point, that Nixon and State had offered their support before being aware of the Kennedy
Foundation decision. In the process, however, Jack found himself admonishing a foundation on which he served as a trustee and accusing its leaders of “
rewriting the sequence of events” with a “doctored version of what happened.” The episode tarnished Jack’s image and only added to Nixon’s reputation for deceit. Even the
Post,
in an editorial, offered the opinion that Robinson “
still seems to be confused about where to place the blame” for the controversy.

A week or so later, however, Robinson took twin steps to underscore his commitment to Nixon. Deciding to campaign fully on his behalf, he arranged with Chock Full o’ Nuts for a leave of absence until the elections in November. Under pressure from the
Post,
he also set aside his column for the duration. On September 7, the
Post
carried, instead of Jack’s column, “A Note on Jackie Robinson.” The note read: “
Jackie Robinson is on leave of absence from The Post while serving in Vice President Nixon’s campaign organization.”

Robinson knew that in taking this step into territory new to him he was also taking a risk. But as at other crucial moments in his life, when he found himself profoundly challenged to act, he could not sit on the sidelines but plunged into the fray. At whatever personal cost, he would throw his energies into supporting the Nixon campaign.

F
OR
R
OBINSON
, the 1960 presidential campaign was an exhilarating but also a bruising affair, in which he worked hard and at times effectively as an unpaid volunteer for Nixon and Lodge but also endured some harsh attacks. At least once, he came to the brink of quitting; but in the end he remained loyal to Nixon. “
After what the Democrats did to me and tried to do to me on the road,” he told a reporter following Nixon’s defeat, “I’m just about ready to became a Republican myself.” Defeat did not change his views: “I still believe in Mr. Nixon and I still think he’s the better man.”

Beating the drum for Nixon across the country, from New York to California and even into the South, Jack showed a degree of dedication that surprised even Republicans. Everywhere he lauded the Vice-President for helping America make “
more progress in the last seven years in civil rights than ever under the Democrats.” At the same time, especially before blacks, he hammered at Senator Kennedy, who “wants us to put him in office so he can learn about us there. I think he’ll learn about us from Johnson.” True, Kennedy might make a good President one day; but “let him go out and learn about the American Negro first.”