I Never Had It Made (14 page)

This is one of the reasons I cannot buy the “black only” package being peddled by segregationists who are white and separatists who are black. There are those who sincerely believe that the racial problem can be solved if an all-black society is created. They are flattering the black masses, making them believe an impossible dream will come true. The best opportunity for genocide the bigoted white man could have is to help blacks establish an all-black society in this country. It would be much more convenient to wipe out blacks if they were all collected in one place. It seems to me wrong—in fact, evil—for “leaders” to envision an all-black paradise, to mislead a people starving for hope.

I am not a fanatical integrationist. I don't think there is any particular magic in a white kid sitting next to a black kid in a classroom. I simply don't want all-black classrooms and all-black schools in a system where the best teachers and the best equipment and the best administration go to the white school and the worst to the black. I see more value in making a ghetto school great enough to induce parents of all races to send their children to it. I also believe both black and white children can gain something by being able to relate to each other.

I am opposed to enforced separatism and I am opposed to enforced segregation. The first freedom for all people is freedom of choice. I want to live in a neighborhood of my choice where I can afford to pay the rent. I want to send my children to school where I believe they will develop best. I want the freedom to rise as high in my career as my ability indicates. I want to be free to follow the dictates of my own mind and conscience without being subject to the pressures of any man, black or white. I think that is what most people of all races want. Unfortunately, it is not what black people in this country have. Until we do, we will continue to live in a farcical society, and the high principles on which America was founded will continue to be distorted. Finally, although I am opposed to complete separatism, there is a valid necessity for blacks to stand apart and develop themselves independently. We must have a sense of our own identity and we must develop an economic unity so we can built an independent power base from which to deal with whites on a more equal basis. This is what I tried to do later in my life when I got involved in the Freedom Bank venture. It is only through such accomplishments as these that we can negotiate from strength and self-respect rather than from the weak position of trying to be included in already existing white institutions.

VIII

The Growing Family

A
fter the birth of Sharon in 1950, our house in St. Albans had become increasingly inadequate. In addition to being too small, it was located right on the street without any room for privacy. Well-meaning people constantly harassed us. They would pull up in their cars, walk boldly into our front yard and start taking pictures. When they rang the bell, Rae would go to the door, dressed for housework, to find people insistent on taking her picture. Usually they would demand that Rae produce the children for a picture. If Rae insisted on the right to privacy, they would leave grumbling that the Robinsons were stuck up and didn't appreciate what the public had done for them. Inevitably, the public both idolizes and abuses celebrities and their families. We understood and were grateful for their interest. On the other hand, anyone like me who can't abide discourtesies, such as being expected to stop in the middle of a meal in a restaurant to sign an autograph, runs the risk of being called ungrateful. Usually, Rachel was very diplomatic with the intruders, but some of the liberties people took got on her nerves.

By the time David was born on May 14, 1952, we were determined to leave Long Island and we wanted to either find or, preferably, build another house. Considering all the traveling I did in baseball, I was really blessed to be able to be home for the births of each of our three children. I came in from St. Louis in time for David's arrival on the scene. Rachel had never had any trouble after births before, but this time she developed acute nephritis, which was quickly brought under control, but David had to be brought home before she was released. Willette Bailey, a family friend, was our salvation then. She agreed to become nurse for the new baby and generally help with the children. She continued to help us out for a number of years.

While Rachel was house-hunting in 1952 and 1953, we became even more acutely aware that racial prejudice and discrimination in housing is vicious. It doesn't matter whether you are a day laborer or a celebrity, as long as you are black. There were numerous instances which proved that. Once Rachel found property in Purchase, New York. We liked it so much that we wanted to put a deposit on it. Suddenly, it was taken off the market. In other cases, the places we could have bought zoomed upward in price when the owners learned my identity. Sometimes it was hard to tell whether we were being subjected to color prejudice or celebrity prejudice or both. Whatever the reason, being treated differently from others is very frustrating.

We were having a bad time trying to find the kind of place we wanted. We were looking for a big house with rooms for each of our children. We wanted them to be able to play outdoors with plenty of space, a minimum of risk from traffic, and we wanted water that we could see and perhaps use for swimming and rowing. We passionately wanted our children to be educated in integrated schools.

Our neighborhood associations at St. Albans had been pleasant and we had been proud to see that the blacks who had moved into the community were enhancing property values rather than depreciating them. They cared for their homes and grounds. They spent significant sums of money refurbishing inside and outside. However, there was one factor which alarmed us. Younger families were replacing older couples. Teachers, who were all white and older, were unhappy and unprepared to deal with black children or with the increase in the size of their classes. Remember, this was twenty years ago and the passion for integration in schools was growing to a fever pitch, culminating in the triumphant Supreme Court decision in 1954. Like so many parents then, we knew our children were growing up in a society where they would have to deal with people of all colors; therefore, we wanted them to learn about people of other races while they were still young. However, conditions in the school got worse, and it seemed to us that Jackie was not getting the education we wanted for him. This was the conflict we faced—wanting to be part of the great integration movement and yet fearing for our son's education. When the school went on double sessions because of the overcrowding and shortage of teachers, we reluctantly withdrew Jackie and put him in a private school.

Meanwhile, just when our house-hunting was at its most discouraging, a newsman from the Bridgeport
Herald
in Bridgeport, Connecticut, stepped into the picture. He was working on a series on housing discrimination and had heard we were having trouble locating. He telephoned Rachel and asked to interview her. After the interview, he did a major piece about all the obvious, subtle, and sophisticated methods that had been used to tell us, “We don't want you for a neighbor.” His article made it appear that the North Stamford, Connecticut community had been exceptionally guilty. This wasn't really accurate and it did not reflect what Rae had said about that particular community, but it was most effective in mobilizing North Stamford ministers who did not appreciate being pictured as racists and were prepared to assist. We received several offers to inspect properties in North Stamford and surrounding areas. Some were white elephants in Greenwich which the owners were trying to unload on anyone. We had to turn them down. One real estate man, either ill-intentioned or ignorant, had spread the rumor that we didn't really want to buy a house since we had turned down a few that had been offered us; that we were actually agitators trying to stir up racial trouble.

Tom Gaines, a liberal builder and developer, and a group of ministers, apparently in reaction to the newspaper piece, set up a committee in North Stamford to fight housing bias. Andrea Simon, one of the key members, phoned Rachel and said the ministers on the committee would like to talk to her at a meeting at the Simon home. Rachel very quickly disposed of the rumor that we were agitators when she met with the committee. The ministers agreed to take up the issue with their congregations.

A real estate broker had been invited by Andrea Simon to attend the meeting. Immediately afterwards he arranged to show Rachel and Andrea available properties. The first few places were interesting but lacked one or more of the elements we desired. Finally, the broker said she had one more place, but she was reluctant to show it. She felt it was exactly what Rae and I were looking for. However, she didn't want Rae to see it and get excited about it only to find that we couldn't have it. She said the builder had a financial problem and that the banks and local merchants would have to be checked before we could have it.

The minute she arrived at the place, Rachel fell in love with it. The expanse of land, the beautiful private lake, the majestic trees—and the foundations for the house to be built on—all were perfect. The builder after a talk with the broker an-nounced that we had a deal. A year's search was over.

We bought the Stamford property in 1954 but were unable to occupy it until 1955. There were some fascinating developments involving the builder. He was a character—lovable but sometimes difficult. He had his problems and we had ours.

Rachel and I have constantly tried to assess how wise we were in depriving our children of black companionship. When we were in St. Albans, the private nursery school we sent Jackie to was all-white at first. I think we were unaware of how detrimental that was to him. We were simply determined to send our children to a good school. We hoped Jackie's school would become better balanced racially than it did. Then, when we moved to North Stamford, which was predominantly white at the time, we fervently hoped that other black families would follow us. We wanted our children in good schools, and we wanted the neighborhoods and schools to be integrated so they could have black companionship. This did not occur soon enough for our children.

We now realize how much being “the only black” can hurt. In talks with us as they grew up, our children made us realize what a heavy burden had been placed on them. Sharon, as well as David and Jackie, went through a loss of identity. Parents often don't know what their youngsters are exposed to—the name-calling, the slights, the feeling of being excluded, even the feeling of being patronized, and the realization that there is nobody in your class or school who looks like you. We learned belatedly that a “good school” involves much more than excellent teaching.

When the time came for Rachel to take Jackie, Jr., to school in Connecticut she was deeply concerned. She says she began to recognize some of the hesitation that black parents in the South are subject to: wondering whether or not to put their children in white schools. In addition to being the only black youngster in the school, our son would face other serious disadvantages. In the private school on Long Island, said to be a very fine one, he had learned to print but not to write, and he could scarcely read. Socially and academically, he was going to have adult-sized barriers to climb. Rachel says, in no uncertain terms, that if we had it to do all over again, she would elect to remain in an all-black community rather than go through the frustrating year-long search to find an integrated community and then finally to have to settle for an all-white community. We thought we were pioneering. Today, blacks are moving into the suburbs at a rapid rate. That wasn't true eighteen years ago when our kids needed it. We did better with Sharon and David when their school time came along because by that time we were more aware. But when Jackie first entered school, it was different. The builder promised us our home would be ready by the time school opened. We had already moved out of our old house, and our dear friends, Andrea and Richard Simon, had loaned us their summer home in Stamford. Jackie had been friends with the Simons' son for some time. They were the same age and he had been visiting them all summer. But the Simons went back to Riverdale when we took over their place temporarily. So Jackie had to go it alone.

Jackie's first day of school is a day Rachel will never forget. When she arrived at the Martha Hoyt School with our son, the other kids were all standing in line. They had just alighted from the bus and were ready to go into the school. As Rae went up the steps, she could hear them whispering. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was obvious that they were discussing Jackie. It was a long climb up those steps to where the principal stood. Rachel hoped desperately that Jackie couldn't hear the comments about this strange, little colored boy who had arrived on the scene. Rae kept hoping she would see at least one other black kid in the school. There were none and there were no other public schools near us. This meant there was no choice and Jackie had to go to Martha Hoyt. Rae was sure that first day that Jackie sensed that the whispers and stares meant he was somehow different and that he was aware of the tension surrounding him and his mother.

During his first year at the Stamford school, Jackie had one very good break. There was a marvelous teacher, a Miss Carlucci, who won Jackie's heart and interest. She was concerned about him and determined to do something about his reading deficiency. In later years Jackie referred to her as the only teacher who really cared about him. She kept him after school without making it seem like a punishment. She used to say to him, “Jackie, you and I are going to work this afternoon. We'll play a little ball first.” He respected her because she could fire a baseball at him. Afterward she took him inside and did some reading with him. The extra time Miss Carlucci spent with Jackie helped tremendously.

Because of her efforts, Jackie did catch up by the end of the year. The school had made Jackie part of what was called the tracking system. This is a system of judging a child's ability and assigning him to a certain track within a grade, used by many schools. Often the child gets stuck in a low track with the slow learners at an early age and is then convinced he is not bright. Rae feels the system is particularly damaging to black kids who have already started out handicapped by a society that damages their self-esteem early in life. Children in a low track can begin not to care and lose any desire to rise above that track, and sometimes their teachers are certain that such youngsters never can and never will learn above a certain level. If a kid is convinced that he's dumb, it doesn't take much for him to decide to prove it. He is apt to always live with a low ceiling of expectation and frequently the teacher won't try to change this. In most black communities, knowledgeable parents are beginning to fight this stultifying system.

At the end of Jackie's first year, Miss Carlucci was terribly proud of him. He had worked hard with her, reacting beautifully to the special attention she gave him. It was the kind of attention that had nothing to do with being the son of a well-known father. Jackie knew Miss Carlucci liked him for himself.

There weren't any more Miss Carluccis.

As the school years passed, Jackie developed the habit of not concentrating. Not bringing his homework home. He was an attractive, winning child, but we began to notice that he was very dependent. Rachel thinks that we contributed heavily toward making him that way.

“People around this house were always doing things for him,” Rachel remembers. “He'd get up in the morning and someone would be pressing his pants. He always wanted to look neat in well-pressed pants. Someone else would be getting his breakfast. Maybe he'd leave home without his books and someone would run after him with them. He hardly had to do anything for himself. You know, when you come right down to it, you're never prepared to be a parent to the first child. Very few people are really ready. I think we were—all of us, including his Grandmother Isum—very sensitive to the identity crisis he had owing to his dad's fame, and we were making it up to him, in little ways, showing our love by taking care of him, doing special things for him. Waiting on Jackie even carried over to his school. He'd start out of his classroom after school and just hold out his arms. Someone would pile on his books. Someone would remember to give him his sneakers, his lunch box. People just did things for him. I think all that catering to Jackie caught up with him in later years. He wasn't independent enough. He'd been told time and again he couldn't be better than his dad. So he didn't have the fierce competitive spirit that his dad had.”