Jackie, Pee Wee . . .

and me

Growing up, my nickname was Pee Wee. On return trips to Northwest Iowa where I was born and raised, people still call me by this name. When they do, I take no offense. It was a name of affection, even respect. The moniker was never meant as an insult or put-down. The kids from other schools knew my nickname as well. In all the years I played sports, I never heard an opponent use Pee Wee derogatorily (at least not to my face).

Obviously I was small, but the nickname wasn’t only because of my size. My favorite professional baseball player was Pee Wee Reese of the Brooklyn Dodgers. I had a Pee Wee Reese glove, a Pee Wee Reese Louisville Slugger, and the Pee Wee Reese rookie card. Sadly, my dear mother threw that card away with a million dollars’ worth of others. But that’s another story.

I loved Pee Wee Reese. Pee Wee was my idol.

Pee Wee’s moment in the sun

(Please note: In my research for this post I found many articles on the event I am about to highlight. Almost every one was written by a white person. And in every one of those pieces, Pee Wee is the featured hero. But it was Jackie Robinson who endured threats and taunts and inferior hotel rooms and pitches thrown at his head and larger strike zones. Jackie’s the hero, and I lament that he was not among my idols.)

In November of 2005, a statue was unveiled in front of Brooklyn ballfield, KeySpan Park where the Mets’ Class A Cyclones play. The monument depicts two Hall of Fame baseball players from the 40s and 50s—Jackie Robinson and Pee Wee Reese of the Brooklyn Dodgers.

The statue was designed to commemorate a moment that occurred in Cincinnati, Ohio on May 13, 1947. Although the details of that day are hazy, the “embrace” has become one of the most memorable moments in baseball lore—Pee Wee’s moment.

The “embrace”

In an article for ESPN magazine, Brian Cronin describes the scene: “As the story goes, Cincinnati fans were giving Robinson a particularly tough time as the Dodgers took the field in the bottom of the first. In a show of support, Reese temporarily left his position at shortstop and walked over to Robinson at first base and put his arm around the rookie, silencing the crowd, which was awed by the act of racial empathy by Reese, a popular All-Star from nearby Kentucky.”

In the biography Jackie Robinson by Arnold Rampersad, Robinson is quoted as saying: “Pee Wee kind of sensed the sort of helpless, dead feeling in me and came over and stood beside me for a while. He didn’t say a word, but he looked over at the chaps who were yelling at me and just stared. He was standing by me, I could tell you that.”

In my research for this post, I found no evidence that Pee Wee’s gesture had any long-range impact on how Robinson was treated going forward. According to Robinson, it silenced the crowd on that day. Maybe that’s enough.

Pee Wee’s transformation

Pee Wee Reese was serving in the Navy when he heard about Jackie Robinson’s addition to the Dodgers. Pee Wee’s initial reaction was skepticism, if not outright opposition. According to multiple sources, Reese’s change of heart was a matter of simple pragmatism: Jackie Robinson was a part of the team, and Jackie Robinson could play!

One of the Dodger players started a petition against Jackie joining the team. The petition carried with it the threat of boycotting. Pee Wee, the team captain, refused to sign. He won over enough of the Dodger players to squash the effort to shut out Robinson.

As the double-play stars played together, they also grew together, and in time the two became close friends.

This little guy has something to say

The racial prejudices apparent in other places were evident in rural Iowa as well. The world I grew up in was seeped in racism. It was the air we breathed. Blacks were referred to only by the “n” word or as “colored people.” My father talked often of his experiences with Blacks in the army, presenting them in the worst possible light. Black soldiers were lazy, and when in groups, dangerous.

Born in 1948, I was not around when Pee Wee’s moment actually happened. Reese played from 1940-1958 with the Dodgers. From 1943-1945, like many other Major League players, Pee Wee left baseball and served in the Navy during WWII.

Back when I was a kid, I knew nothing of the support Pee Wee showed Jackie Robinson. No one told Pee Wee Vis the story of Pee Wee Reese’s historic walk across the infield to embrace Jackie Robinson. Why not? It seems to me that the influential people in my life missed an opportunity to teach me a life lesson: In the face of rampant racism, a little bit of kindness goes a long way. Pee Wee Reese, a white boy from Kentucky, put his arm around Jackie Robinson, a black guy from Georgia, and made a difference.

All this leaves me wondering what opportunities I’m missing to teach life lessons to the ones I influence. It feels to me that most white people like me are ”missing our shot? (From the broadway production Hamilton)

Final words from a baseball Hall of Fame super star

Earlier in this post I mentioned the monument erected to Pee Wee and Jackie’s memorable moment in sport’s history. Rachel Robinson was there, of course, both for the moment and for the monument. At the dedication of the statue, Mrs Robinson stated,

“It’s a historic symbol of a wonderful legacy of friendship, of teamwork, of courage—of a lot of things we hope we will be able to pass on to young people. And we hope they will be motivated by it, be inspired by it and think about what it would be like to stand up, dare to challenge the status quo and find a friend there who will come over and support you” (ESPN).

This story of friendship and race happened over 70 years ago. It was the time of Jim Crow, lynchings, segregation and hate. Over the years much has changed in America, and yet, sadly, much remains the same too. Jim Crow has not left the building, but rather taken on more subtle forms of discrimination: residential segregation, voter registration impediments, disparity in school funding, to name a few.

Pee Wee Vis isn’t Pee Wee Reese. Pee Wee Vis has no national spotlight to stand under and be noticed for an act of kindness. Pee Wee Vis is powerless to do anything about the systemic racism that continues to breed resentment and despair among Black Americans.

Or is he?

Rachel Robinson described Harold Henry Reese in this way: “Pee Wee was more than a friend. Pee Wee was a good man.”

As good as it is to be a good man or woman, it’s not good enough. It’s not lost on me that on that memorable day in 1947, a man named Pee Wee stood tall. And the other man, the Black man, Jackie, never forgot.

Could Pee Wee Vis stand tall? He could at least try.