Does Jackie Have the Guts?

By Billy Oppenheimer

[1] On August 28, 1945, Brooklyn Dodgers’ owner Branch Rickey brought Jackie Robinson into his office with a proposition that would change the game of baseball and the world, for that matter. The legend of Jackie Robinson breaking the color barrier would not exist without Branch Rickey. In 1904, Rickey was the coach of the Ohio Wesleyan baseball team. On an away trip, a hotel manager refused to allow the only black team member to stay in the hotel. Rickey protested and finally the manager agreed to let the black player share Rickey’s room. Rickey returned to the room to find the player distraught and scratching at his skin, wishing he were white. That moment stuck with Rickey and sparked his belief in doing what he could to help change segregation in baseball. In 1942, Rickey was hired as team president and general manager of the Brooklyn Dodgers and began to act on his steadfast opposition to baseball’s color barrier. Rickey began a rigorous search far and wide for not just the best ballplayer but one who could take abuse from fans, sportswriters, and even fellow players. The man Rickey believed to fit that mold was Jackie Robinson. Rickey bringing Robinson into his office would set in motion a world-changing event, so how Brian Helgeland’s 42 decided to show that scene would be vital to the film’s success.

[2] After comparing this scene in 42 with previous descriptions – in Alfred Green’s 1950 film The Jackie Robinson Story, Robinson’s autobiography I Never Had it Made (1972), and Arnold Rampersad’s Jackie Robinson: A Biography (1997) -- it becomes quite apparent that director Brian Helgeland made a concerted effort to stay close to his sources. For instance, both Robinson and Rampersad explain that Rickey brings Robinson in first and foremost to confirm that he is the person who can handle the backlash that will come with being the first African American in professional baseball. They describe the meeting as stern, hardhearted, intense -- Rickey was not sugarcoating anything. Helgeland captures this intensity, having Rickey (Harrison Ford) get straight to the point, skipping introductions or small talk. Rickey plays out such scenarios that Robinson will undoubtedly face as “Team stops at a restaurant. Waiter won't take your order. ‘Didn't you see the sign on the door? No niggers allowed.’ What are you gonna do then? Fight him? Ruin all my plans? Answer me, you black son of a bitch!” (11:04). This harsh language is vital to the establishment of Rickey’s character. As Robinson describes him in his autobiography, “He had an air of command, a deep, booming voice, and a way of cutting through the red tape and getting down to basics” (42). While there is no telling if this was what Rickey said word-for-word, Helgeland definitely achieves the Rickey passion and sternness described throughout other sources.

[3] There is a lot of dialogue in this scene, and it could be debated endlessly what was actually said in that room and what Helgeland created to sell a good movie. A line I was all but certain was fabricated for Hollywood occurs when Robinson gets up out of his seat and in Rickey’s face and asks if he really wants a player who is afraid to fight back, and Rickey replies, “No. No. I want a player who’s got the guts not to fight back” (11:26). This is a really great, made-for-movie type of quote from Rickey, but it is in fact what he actually said to Robinson, as confirmed in the autobiography and Rampersad’s book. Something that each source makes sure to imply is that Rickey’s genius was in that he knew exactly how the world was going to respond, and he knew the exact type of man that was needed to make it work.

[4] Just before Robinson gets ready to answer Rickey’s question of whether or not he has what it takes, the camera turns to a chalkboard that reads “Brooklyn Dodgers” on the left with a list of players under it and “Prospects” on the right with a separate list of players. The music playing in the background is dramatic as we wait for Robinson to speak and the camera pans down the board. Of all the names under “Prospects,” just four have stars drawn next to them: Josh Gibson, Jackie Robinson, Satchel Paige, and Larry Doby. All are African Americans, and Paige and Doby would eventually play in the major leagues after Robinson breaks the color barrier. Gibson was a legendary catcher and prolific hitter in the Negro Leagues, but he died at the age of 35, three months before Robinson made his historic debut. The image of the blackboard is powerful because with the white chalk on the black board, there was no segregation, names of white people and black people coexist, and all that mattered was the quality of the ballplayer. Rickey’s extensive search narrowed down to four names and then to one, and that one would pave the way for the others.

[5] Robinson does eventually find words to answer Rickey’s question. In a soft voice he says, “You give me a uniform . . . you give me a number on my back . . . and I'll give you the guts” (12:51). In his autobiography, Robinson doesn’t say exactly how he replied to Rickey, but he does write about the emotions he felt: “Could I turn the other cheek? I didn’t know how I would do it. Yet I knew that I must . . . I had already begun to feel I had to do it for Branch Rickey” (46).

[6] Helgeland opted to play up an interest in Robinson to feel equal. A jersey and a number on his back made Robinson like all the other plays, white, black, or otherwise. In the other sources, you get the feel that Robinson understood what was at stake; he accepted the challenge because he knew what it could mean for the place of African Americans in the world. I don’t believe Robinson’s main concern was to get a uniform and number on his back as Helgeland elected to portray him, but in selling a good movie, the director has to find a balance between what actually happened and what an audience will enjoy watching, and I think Helgeland did a noble job of that in this scene and in the movie overall.