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When Rickey hired Jackie away from the Monarchs there were loud and angry outcries, and not all of them were in a Southern accent. Some of the ugliest comments were spoken in ripe, raucous Brooklynese. Even some owners in the low-paying Negro leagues protested against "raiding" their men. There had been Negroes in big-league ball before, but they had been careful to identify themselves as Indians or "Cubans." The late Minor League President Bill Bramham cried: "Father Divine will have to look to his laurels, for we can expect Rickey Temple to be in the course of construction in Harlem soon." Rickey, ignoring the uproar, treated Jackie "white," giving him a year's seasoning in the minors. The four other Negroes who followed Robinson to the big leagues this season (and were generally failures) had no such break.
Jackie faced hostility, suspicion, curiosity and every newspaper camera within miles when he reported to the International League's Montreal club for training.
Jackie spoke to his teammates only when spoken to, and his replies were brief and polite. He had long ago made it a rule to "let them make the first move." Soon after the season opened, the Montreal players were with him. It took longer to win over some of the fans, and the other players in the League.
Black Cat, Good Luck. He was booed in Baltimore. In Syracuse one day, the rival team let out a black cat from their dugout as Jackie walked up to bat. Jackie got mad and hit a triple with the bases loaded. By the time the season ended, his doctor told him that he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, but nobody would have guessed it by looking at his record. Second Baseman Robinson led the International League in batting (with a .349 average) and in fielding (with a .985 average). Montreal won the pennant, and the fans, after one game, chaired Jackie and carried him around the field. Jackie Robinson was ready for the Dodgers.
Do's & Don'ts. Montreal had been won over, but that cut no ice in Flatbush. Branch Rickey, who knows his fellow citizens, set out to soften them up. He organized a group of Brooklyn's leading Negro citizens, including one judge, into a formal "how-to-handle-Robinson committee." In every other city in the National League, Rickey set up similar committees. The Brooklyn committee drew up a list of do's and don'ts a yard long; Jackie's deportment in public & private was to be supervised as thoroughly as Princess Elizabeth's.
He could not, like other ballplayers, endorse breakfast foods (or any other product, for that matter) at the usual $1,000 per endorsement. He could sign his name to no magazine or newspaper articles. When he got what he considered a bad decision from the umpire, he was not to object. When another player insulted him, he was to grin and bear it. He had to leave the ballpark after games by a secret exit. It was as important to avoid adulation as it was to avoid brickbats; there were to be no Jackie Robinson Days at Ebbets Field. He was not to accept any social invitations, from whites or blacks, and he was to stay away from night spots.