Rachel Robinson

Fourth of eight parts Rachel Robinson knew how to smile through her fear. Throughout their 27 years of marriage, Jackie Robinson's wife had managed to publicly mask her concerns. As courageously as her pioneering husband, she silently had endured the death threats, the taunts, the provocations, the stinging innuendo. "After Branch Rickey, she is the most important supporting player in the Jackie Robinson story," said Jonathan Eig, author of Opening Day, an account of Robinson's tumultuous first big-league season.

Rachel Robinson knew how to smile through her fear. Throughout their 27 years of marriage, Jackie Robinson's wife had managed to publicly mask her concerns. As courageously as her pioneering husband, she silently had endured the death threats, the taunts, the provocations, the stinging innuendo. "After Branch Rickey, she is the most important supporting player in the Jackie Robinson story," said Jonathan Eig, author of Opening Day, an account of Robinson's tumultuous first big-league season.

In 1947, when Jackie Robinson was facing a torrent of racist abuse as he became the first black player of the modern era to play major league baseball, white teammate Pee Wee Reese stood by him. Yesterday, it was fully apparent how much Reese's support meant to Robinson and his family. Rachel Robinson, the widow of Jackie, was among the 1,200 mourners in Southeast Christian Church to pay their final respects to Harold Henry Reese. Reese - known to baseball fans everywhere as "Pee Wee" - was the Kentuckian who became the star shortstop and the team captain on the great Brooklyn Dodgers squads of the 1940s and 1950s.

She is 72 years old, Rachel Robinson is, just a few years younger than her late husband would now be. In her office, she wears a silk blouse and fine silver earrings. She is regal, beautiful, measured. Her preference is to focus on today, tomorrow, the day after that. The world won't let her do that. She is Mrs. Jackie Robinson. She is the widow of the seminal athlete of 20th century America. Her husband died in 1972, at age 53, of diabetes and heart disease. Jackie Robinson is the subject of books, a movie, statues, a stamp, university lectures, a play, songs.

For many black Americans, Rachel Robinson, the widow of Jackie Robinson, who 50 years ago broke the color barrier in modern professional baseball, is the first lady of the struggle for civil rights. Robinson was in Philadelphia on Thursday to participate in the dedication of a mural in North Philadelphia in honor of her late husband. Wherever she went in the city, she was accorded the kind of respect and adulation given Rosa Parks or Coretta Scott King. In the crowd of onlookers to see the mural, which is on the wall of a vacant lot on Broad Street near Somerset, less than six blocks from the site of Connie Mack Stadium, were everyday people and prominent citizens of the city.

Jackie Robinson, the first black man to play major-league baseball, is the subject of an excellent episode of the Biography series at 8 tonight on cable's Arts & Entertainment (A&E) channel. Peter Graves is the narrator of this hour, which smoothly blends old news film of Robinson in action with contemporary comments from his widow, Rachel Robinson; Virginia Gov. Douglas Wilder; civil-rights leader Andrew Young; TV newsman Mike Wallace, and retired sportscaster Howard Cosell. Robinson (1919-72)

Amid talk at the ritzy Plaza Hotel of gold coins and multimillion-dollar endowments, baseball yesterday officially began a yearlong commemoration of a moment 50 years ago when a black man in a flannel uniform ran onto a ball field in Brooklyn. Acting commissioner Bud Selig announced yesterday that the 1997 season would be dedicated to the memory of Jackie Robinson. Robinson ended major-league baseball's long segregation when, on April 15, 1947, at Ebbets Field, he started at first base for the Dodgers in their opening-day game with the Boston Braves.

At Broad and Somerset, seven blocks away from where he used to play ball, a 30-foot-tall Jackie Robinson is stealing home. Permanently. It's an expansive image that looks as if it jumped off the screen of an old Philco. Robinson, executing his signature play, is captured in a grainy, black-and-white mural painted on the side of a three-story brick rowhouse in the 2800 block of North Broad Street. Robinson's widow, Rachel, drove down from Manhattan yesterday for a ceremony honoring the 50th anniversary of Robinson joining the Brooklyn Dodgers and breaking the color line in major league baseball.

People use history for several things. They use it to justify. They use it to condemn. If they're smart, if they try to enjoin the past with the present, they even use it to learn. Major league baseball tried to show it had smartened up last night, 50 years to the day it reluctantly allowed Jackie Robinson to play baseball, 10 years after Al Campanis's infamous remarks on "Nightline. " They honored Robinson in a midgame ceremony at Shea Stadium by forever retiring the number he wore, 42, from major league baseball, a move unprecedented in professional sports.

The much-anticipated 50th anniversary of Jackie Robinson's major-league debut will be celebrated tonight in a ceremony at Shea Stadium. The festivities will be led by President Clinton and will take place during the fifth inning of a game between the New York Mets and the Los Angeles Dodgers. Acting baseball commissioner Bud Selig and Rachel Robinson, Jackie's widow, will join Clinton at the ceremonies. It was on April 15, 1947, that Robinson became the first black player to play in a major-league game.

The great Yogi Berra once said upon receiving an honor, "Thanks for making this necessary. " Yesterday, Jackie Robinson was honored by Major League Baseball as it said thank you. Not just to a brave pioneer, but to all those who 60 years ago combined like minds and an uncommon courage to help expunge Jim Crow from their playing fields. Jackie and Rachel Robinson and an equally magnificent supporting cast gave this nation a peek at what was possible and helped start another, more transcendent, revolution called the Civil Rights era. So, thank you, Branch Rickey for making yesterday a necessary occasion in which major-league players wore No. 42 just as Jackie Robinson did on April 15, 1947, when he debuted with your Brooklyn Dodgers.

DEIDRE LITTLEJOHN, a Temple sophomore, mentors elementary-school kids in North Philly. Teaches them history. Says, "If you don't know where you've been, you can't know where you're going. " Adam Franklin, a Penn senior, is a Big Brother to a boy at Shaw Middle School. Teague O'Connor, a math major at Saint Joseph's, is active with HAWKS (Helping And Watching Kids Succeed). What do they have in common? You mean besides knowing that Jackie Robinson stole home 19 times; that Robinson was born in Cairo, Ga.; that he played all four sports at UCLA; and that he was subjected to a court-martial when he wouldn't move to the back of a half-empty bus while in the U.S. Army?

Rachel Robinson knew how to smile through her fear. Throughout their 27 years of marriage, Jackie Robinson's wife had managed to publicly mask her concerns. As courageously as her pioneering husband, she silently had endured the death threats, the taunts, the provocations, the stinging innuendo. "After Branch Rickey, she is the most important supporting player in the Jackie Robinson story," said Jonathan Eig, author of Opening Day, an account of Robinson's tumultuous first big-league season.

Fourth of eight parts Rachel Robinson knew how to smile through her fear. Throughout their 27 years of marriage, Jackie Robinson's wife had managed to publicly mask her concerns. As courageously as her pioneering husband, she silently had endured the death threats, the taunts, the provocations, the stinging innuendo. "After Branch Rickey, she is the most important supporting player in the Jackie Robinson story," said Jonathan Eig, author of Opening Day, an account of Robinson's tumultuous first big-league season.

Major League Baseball did something great and noble when it retired Jackie Robinson's famous No. 42 a decade ago. Now, with the 60th anniversary of Robinson's arrival in the majors a week away, baseball should seriously think about un-retiring the number. Not for one day. For good. Next Sunday, 60 years to the day after Robinson debuted at first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers, baseball will permit one player from each team to wear No. 42 in honor of Robinson. Ken Griffey Jr. came up with the idea, received the OK from the commissioner's office, and soon baseball was encouraging every team to have one of its players wear the number in tribute to Robinson for a day. Mets Manager Willie Randolph was so enthusiastic about the idea that he half-jokingly said he'd fight anyone for the number.

Major League Baseball did something great and noble when it retired Jackie Robinson's famous No. 42 a decade ago. Now, with the 60th anniversary of Robinson's arrival in the majors a week away, baseball should seriously think about un-retiring the number. Not for one day. For good. Next Sunday, 60 years to the day after Robinson debuted at first base for the Brooklyn Dodgers, baseball will permit one player from each team to wear No. 42 in honor of Robinson. Ken Griffey Jr. came up with the idea, received the OK from the commissioner's office, and soon baseball was encouraging every team to have one of its players wear the number in tribute to Robinson for a day. Mets Manager Willie Randolph was so enthusiastic about the idea that he half-jokingly said he'd fight anyone for the number.

Outfielder Reggie Sanders and righthander Albie Lopez took one day to enjoy the Arizona Diamondbacks' World Series championship before joining 20 other major leaguers who filed for free agency yesterday. In the first two days of the free-agency filing period, 126 of 161 potential eligible players entered their names. Players can begin filing the day following the World Series, the opening of the 15-day period. Many filed early this year, possibly reflecting a rush by players to become free agents before baseball's collective bargaining agreement expires today.

In 1947, when Jackie Robinson was facing a torrent of racist abuse as he became the first black player of the modern era to play major league baseball, white teammate Pee Wee Reese stood by him. Yesterday, it was fully apparent how much Reese's support meant to Robinson and his family. Rachel Robinson, the widow of Jackie, was among the 1,200 mourners in Southeast Christian Church to pay their final respects to Harold Henry Reese. Reese - known to baseball fans everywhere as "Pee Wee" - was the Kentuckian who became the star shortstop and the team captain on the great Brooklyn Dodgers squads of the 1940s and 1950s.

For many black Americans, Rachel Robinson, the widow of Jackie Robinson, who 50 years ago broke the color barrier in modern professional baseball, is the first lady of the struggle for civil rights. Robinson was in Philadelphia on Thursday to participate in the dedication of a mural in North Philadelphia in honor of her late husband. Wherever she went in the city, she was accorded the kind of respect and adulation given Rosa Parks or Coretta Scott King. In the crowd of onlookers to see the mural, which is on the wall of a vacant lot on Broad Street near Somerset, less than six blocks from the site of Connie Mack Stadium, were everyday people and prominent citizens of the city.

At Broad and Somerset, seven blocks away from where he used to play ball, a 30-foot-tall Jackie Robinson is stealing home. Permanently. It's an expansive image that looks as if it jumped off the screen of an old Philco. Robinson, executing his signature play, is captured in a grainy, black-and-white mural painted on the side of a three-story brick rowhouse in the 2800 block of North Broad Street. Robinson's widow, Rachel, drove down from Manhattan yesterday for a ceremony honoring the 50th anniversary of Robinson joining the Brooklyn Dodgers and breaking the color line in major league baseball.