Robinson, Rev. James J., March 11, 2002, tape 1, side 2

Michael Snow: Okay. James Robinson: Music is a deep part of my soul. I got more stuff on the computer, on the Internet, that I've gotten off of real players and Devin and mix, and when I get up in the morning, I play it. I got it all there. I have a lot of CDs. My wife does, too. We play a lot of music. I like to listen to music. I love jazz.

Snow: Was there much of a jazz scene in Connellsville? Robinson: [simultaneous talking] No, no, no, no. Snow: I wouldn't think so.

Robinson: No, there's nothing. No, there's--I can't remember. My life in those days was all sports. From the time that I was 11 years old until I was 17. Well, even before that, nine and ten, you know, football, rough and tumble races around the block, competing with kids, you know. 101 got a candy bar throughout the softball league. There was a guy who--they had a YMCA. They had a softball league and we competed on streets. Third Street, Fifth Street, Seventh Street, Ninth Street. We had that league there, and then we played with people in other parts of the city and a lot of softball. Then--then I got bigger. Then we played Junior. Then as a freshman in high school, I got into sports, deep into sports, because I was bigger, too. Then played all-- I did all that, basketball, football, track. I was big. And so, you know, sports was a major part of my adolescent years, even from 12 to about 26. I was into sports. Mainly adolescent years.

Snow: And was Pitt the only school that you were thinking of going to?

Robinson: I was Roman Catholic. Converted when I was 12 years old. Went to Immaculate Conception, even though I went to Connellsville High School. But I wanted to go to Notre Dame. But there were no--you got to understand, there were no Blacks at any major--not that I can remember--college--colleges in 1943, 1944. And when I graduated in 1945, I can remember that there was a fella, a young man in Derry Township who ran track. He was good. His last name was Joe. Snow: Joe. Robinson: Larry Joe. And my senior year, a guy from Georgia got us mixed up. I got called out of the study hall, and they thought, Jimmy Joe. They thought my last name was Joe. My name is--my nickname was Jimmy Joe Robinson. So he came to me and saw me. He looked up and saw me and he says, You know, I'd love to have you. I know about you, but, you know, we just can't recruit you. It's just. In those days, it was called what? Jim Crow. Wasn't segregated--Jim Crow. The laws. The South still had their Jim Crow laws of restricted restaurants and fountains and couldn't drink from certain fountains. I can remember when I was in the Army. When I was 17 years old, 18 years old. After the World War was over, I would come back from Pittsburgh on leave. Then when I went to Washington, D.C., in 1946 and the train stations, the fountains says colored and white. And then when you got on a train, when you got to a certain place, they had a Jim Crow coach. You had to get off--out of your coach. And when you went into Virginia where our station and get in the Jim Crow coach and go into the camp, it was Jim Crow coach. Can you believe that? [both laugh] Snow: No. Robinson: Jim Crow coach.

Snow: That's horrible.

Robinson: So we had to pack a lunch. I meet the guys from Philadelphia. I think that coach took on--I'm pretty sure it took on in Washington, D.C., the capital. And we would buy chicken and stuff like that. We'd buy--Well, in those days booze, we get on a train and all the Black soldiers, we'd just get out of a different coach and go into the Jim Crow coach. And, and, go, go, go to Fort Eustis, Virginia. Call the Jim Crow coach. You couldn't ride with a white passenger. Just a Jim Crow coach.

Snow: I'm a little bit confused on the--on the timing. You first went into the military or you first went to--

Robinson: Well, I was at Pitt one year. Snow: One year. Robinson: 1945. Snow: Okay. Robinson: Then I was drafted. Snow: All right. Robinson: For the first time and went into the Army one year. It was really seven months. It was right after the World War was over and I was discharged. What they called for the convenience of the government. Then later on, I was drafted again when I was with the Cleveland Browns.

Snow: As part of Korea or something?

Robinson: Well, when the Korean War came-- Snow: Okay. Robinson: --When I was with the Browns, then they drafted me again because I didn't spend enough time the first time when I was at Pitt in '46. So they drafted me again. I was drafted twice. I was literally drafted twice.

Robinson: The--can you--

Robinson: Can you get the-- Snow: Yes. It just-- Robinson: [simultaneous talking] Can you get the time sequence?

Snow: Going sequentially or backing up a little bit, what was it like being in the first set of African American football players at Pitt?

Robinson: The players themselves, the white players were the nicest guys in the world. In Pitt--I said this at the banquet--there were only two places where you could eat, Blacks could eat, in those places. I can remember a track player named Johnny Morton going into a bar at--getting beer, and after he drank it, the bartender broke the glass right in front of him. [laughs] This is in Pittsburgh in 1945. And I remember sitting in a restaurant and the young lady who was a waitress came over to me. There were about 5 or 6 of us eating. She says the I'm sorry, but the manager will not--He says, You cannot eat here. The players--white--took the tables, turned them over and said, Let's get the hell out of here. I'm still sitting there. I didn't know what was going on. I'm that dumb. They understood what was going--what the woman was saying to me and she didn't want to say it, but she was only doing what the--what the manager wanted her to say. Just a little restaurant in Oakland. Was 1945.

Snow: But the cafeterias and the dormitories at Pitt?

Robinson: There were no dormitories. We did not stay in dormitories in those days. And the--all of the, if I can remember, all those fraternities were segregated. By--mm. Can't think of the word. They were segregated. Black and white. Fraternities were segregated. Pittsburgh Athletic Association. You know, like, no, you didn't think about it. We laugh now when we go in there. You just didn't. That's a no no. There's just places you just didn't go. Snow: Right. Robinson: And you knew it. This is Oakland. This is--This is Pittsburgh.

Snow: Right. Well, that barrier is taking a lot longer to fall than many of the others. Robinson: Yes. Snow: So that's that's not surprising to me.

Robinson: So the answer--Did I answer? Snow: Yes. Robinson: Okay. Snow: Yes.

Snow: And then after the military you return to Pitt and then you were drafted by the Cleveland Browns.

Robinson: Drafted by the Browns at the end of, I think, 48, 49 or 49--It's probably 1949. Get my year straight. I drafted number three. Paul Brown drafted me number three with Cleveland. So. While I was there, I was drafted again into the Army. Played three games and was drafted in the Army.

Snow: Where were you stationed in the Army that time?

Robinson: Uh. Let's see. Where did I go? You know, one thing I can't get myself--Military District of Washington. Fort--Fort Myer. Right by the Pentagon. Third, whatever they call it. Third Army. That's where they spit and polish when they bury soldiers--when they have the hearse and all that, the spit and polish soldiers.

Snow: And was that an integrated unit?

Robinson: Naw. It was--The Army was integrated. Snow: Okay. Robinson: I'm telling you, this is the damnedest thing. But the--the--I was in special service and I was stationed in Detachment One and Detachment Two. Detachment One, the last--Washington, DC--the last place in the Army, in the world, in the Army--that was not integrated was that detachment. And this is funny. My father-in-law was the general manager of the Pittsburgh Courier. He made a call to the Washington whatever it was, which was another Black newspaper. In one day, they made that Colonel--What was his name from Georgia, Colonel Somebody--stood up in front of us all and said, this is not--now the whole Army's integrated--It is--If it were up to me, I would not do this. But we must integrate these two little companies, Number One and Number Two. I didn't care. In those days, once again, I wasn't racial conscious. I just had a good deal. I was in the Army. Special Service, didn't do nothing, played football. That's all I did. Worked in the theater. You know. But my father-in-law. There, you know, and then I can't think of the name of the the Black newspaper in Washington. There was a--they were connected, you know, but--but--but they--they integrated. Last place in the world was in Washington, DC. I was on a camp where--where all of the Army, uh, General, all the big generals, both Air Force and Army, were stationed there. There were something like 32 major generals, big generals, at that place. Mm. What's the one guy? I can't remember. Oh, I could tell you some stories, too. But you don't want to hear all that about the Army.

Robinson: You just--Just really. Some things that happened to me in the Army. Oh, boy. I won't go there. But I was--That's what happened to me, if I just make it general here. So I was drafted again.

Snow: I forgot to ask you. When you were at Pitt, what were you studying?

Robinson: Well, that's a good question. [Laughs] Started out in Pre-Dental, but ended up graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in history. Snow: Hm. Robinson: Which didn't make no sense. I got a Bachelor of Arts.

Snow: Didn't make any sense from a career standpoint? Robinson: No, no.

Robinson: I just screwed around. I didn't do my best. I got a degree, though. Snow: Okay.

Snow: Were you a member of many organizations in college? Robinson: [simultaneous talking] No. No. Snow: And then after the military, you signed on with the Pittsburgh Steelers?

Robinson: They traded me from the Browns to the Steelers.

Snow: So you went back to the Browns?

Robinson: Yes, I got out of the Army--No, I didn't go back to the Browns. While I was in the Army, they traded me to the Steelers. I went to the Steelers after I got out of the Army--A long story there. And I made our lasting friendship with Art Rooney. Snow: Did you? Robinson: Oh, yes. I got cut. On the day before payday with the Pittsburgh Steelers. Then I ended up in Montreal. But Mr. Rooney, I'll never forget, sent me a letter, by the way, that I got done in. And that's another story. We were playing the Los Angeles Rams. This is a pre-season. And this coach, this coach, he wanted me to go in and play another position. I'm 26, 24, 25 years old. Four, 24. 25 years old. I said I can't play. I don't know that position. He went through a lot of stuff. I was on the sideline, so I told him what he could do with his position. And I was young and a whole lot of other stuff I said, too. So he cut me. Rooney said, You do not have to leave the team. Snow: Really. Robinson: Sent me--Give me a letter. And I said, no. If I play, I'll never--The man will never--Hey, Jamal. The man will never, ever let me play and I'll be like--like a dog. Then this Roman Catholic priest, they cut me, called Canada, the Montreal Alouettes, and they asked me to come up. And of course, their season, you know, in the seasons in the Canadian football, because of the cold weather. And so it was the middle of their season. Snow: Oh, was it? Yeah. And I went up with the Montreal Alouettes, but I didn't make the team. Then the next year I came back and that was--that was the end of me. I just was--I could have gone to another team, but I just--it was a story to that too. And the reason why I didn't go to another team was because I had a religious conversion and I mean a strong religious conversion I got--was in a family there with a woman and the captain.

Unidentified Speaker: Reverend Robinson, please call 6150. Reverend Robinson, please call 6150.

Robinson: I should tell them not to--Yeah, went there and stayed with the captain of the Montreal Alouettes football team. Then I sent for my wife and my son, who was about three years old, four years old, three years old. And through her I was converted. Converted to Christ, and in the most dynamic way. I quit everything. Snow: Did you? Robinson: Quit everything, football, everything. Just stopped and ended up going around and, uh, testifying about Christ, what he meant to me, what I was and did it all over Canada. Just did it. I just did everything. And I was broke too. Betty and I were really broke. Then came back to Pittsburgh. And we came back to Pittsburgh, ran into a man at Grace Memorial Presbyterian Church. He said to me, I think you ought to be--I'm making a short version of it--He said, I think you ought to be in a seminary. And I said, I don't think so. I did too many other things. I--preacher, I can't, I couldn't see it, even at Christmas. He says, you need to talk to another man. He sent me to a man in Belowra [ph] who was my--ended up being my theological teacher and Greek teacher and who--Fred Rogers and I became good friends there at the seminary. And also we had something in common with Dr. Orr. He was my mentor, my friend. I talked to him--that was like in June, and in September I ended up in a seminary.

Snow: That was at Western Theological?

Robinson: Western Theological Seminary, where

Robinson: He was. Snow: Okay.

Robinson: He--I just--He just--The man impressed me. And, of course, Fred and I had his funeral when he died at the seminary. Snow: Oh, did you? Robinson: Mm-hm. We did a funeral. Both of us.

Snow: And then after Western Theological, where was your first calling?

Robinson: There were no--there was only three Black Presbyterian churches. Here we go again. And you understand now that there may be--there are six Black Presbyterian churches, but only because of the change, the neighborhood change. When people move away, another group of people move in. And so therefore, the church in many--most cases just changes. Snow: Right. Robinson: When--when--when people go move away, whites move away, then Blacks move in--that church, Presbyterian, becomes Black. See, I kind of got lost here.

Snow: You were talking about--Well, I think you were--you were trying to say that there were no opportunities--[unintelligible]

Robinson: Oh. So when I graduated from Western, the only church that I got a call from was a church in Wichita, Kansas, called Brotherhood Church. And I went there, 1100 miles away as an assistant pastor. The minister there didn't want me and that church was changing. It lost 500 members in one year, when I got there. Not because of me, but because the neighborhood shifted. Blacks moved from downtown up around Brotherhood Church, which was up near Wichita University, and people flew. I never saw anything like it in my life. 500 members. Maybe over two years, maybe just say two years. But they lost that many members and they went down to 200 members. Snow: Wow. Robinson: The school board changed its, uh--its--its area which made a difference. They changed their--Let me see, what do you call it, their--Mm. I can't think of it. I should know, I'm on the school board, too. They changed their zoning area. They changed their registration areas there, uh--Mm. Anyway. And the churches there moved out. And that area once again became all Black. And so the congregation wanted to minister to people in the area.

Robinson: So I got called there as an assistant. That's how I got there. Went there. The senior minister told me, here again, if I'd have had my way, I would not have called because there's no--for 200 members? But he couldn't minister to Blacks. And then our church wanted to to make the transition, you know, final. So that's the only place where I get a job. So I stayed there two years and I learned. I'd never been to church before, never been in any church except Roman Catholic Church. Snow: I see. Robinson: But as a minister. No, I'd gone to seminary. I'm 33 years old in this place. And--and just the senior minister said, you know, simply said, I just and he--he was a real dog. Never invited us to his house. Told me every day that--just about. But I'm an older guy, see? And even then, I had no social--I had no sense of social, you know, there was no, really, across the country, any Rosa Parks or--that's--you know, we're talking now about, let's say, 1951. Snow: [simultaneous talking] 59?

Robinson: Fifty-- 51? Snow: I think it was 59. Robinson: 59.

Robinson: We're talking 59. I'm losing track of time myself. So, you know, so there I am. Now, the--there were some sit ins, during those days, at Ponca City, Oklahoma. There were some guys on the bus and all that kind of stuff. A lot of this was going on. There were some things then that were moving. A lot of these guys were sitting at the lunch counters. There was a young man I can remember from Pittsburgh who was on one of those things. Uh, Obie Simms. Obediah Sims. He went there and he got crippled. They beat him so bad. But there were things going on. The Freedom Riders, they called them. I can remember that. I didn't have any significance to me. Even then. It didn't. But that was all around me. That was I think that was in Oklahoma. The interesting thing happened to me while I was in brotherhood. I was the director of the camp. You know, they have presbyteries. I was the only Black Presbyterian minister in the whole state of Kansas. And we have presbyteries and then they have camps. What helped me more than anything is those kids in that church found out I had a football background and they liked me. And I began to work with the kids in the church. And that guy was jealous. My senior was jealous of me. He really was, because the kids took to me and I was young. I was 33, 35, and my--my athletic background caught up with me because people came through and said, I remember you such and such a thing. And those kids knew that I had played college football and they just took to me. Had a camp. I was a director of the camp. This young girl got bit by a spider, so I was driving her to the hospital and a cop pulled me over. You know, what are you doing with this white kid in this car?

Robinson: This is--this is an Oklahoma.

Snow: That was in Oklahoma.

Robinson: That was in Oklahoma.

Robinson: That's where the camp was.

Snow: Okay.

Robinson: And my God, Oklahoma is right on the border-- Snow: Right. Robinson: --of Kansas. And I said, my God, I said, I'm taking--And that guy drove with me with that girl in the car to the hospital.

Snow: Just out of curiosity, was she in the front seat or the back?

Robinson: She was in the front seat of my car. I had a little car. Snow: Okay. Robinson: You know, I drove. I drove, you know, there. Young lady went out one night with her boyfriend. Her name was Bond. Her mother's name was Opal Bond. She was from Georgia. She went out one night. Stayed all night with this boy. Young, little, blonde haired, blue eyed girl. And came in drunk. She wouldn't talk to anybody but me.

Robinson: Now this--

Robinson: I'm back at Brotherhood Church in Kansas. Her mother called the house. 2 or 3 in the morning. I went over. Her name was Roxanne or something like that. And I talked to her and I said, you know, you can't--you can't go this way. You can't do this. And you just can't do this. So she got herself together. She talked to me. And I became--that--that woman and I became strong friends that--over because of her daughter. And when her daughter, she became pregnant, she got pregnant. This young man, they--and they were, you know, they loved each other. And when the baby was born, she did not want the senior pastor to baptize the baby. She wanted me to--and he just about had apoplexy. He was mad at me. Mad at the mother. And of course, she was tough. She said, I don't care about anything. I want this man to baptize the baby. So that was the experience I had at Brotherhood Church. Then after two years, I had really learned about the church. I had a feel for the city. I had a feel for the changing churches that were going on. I met this young white guy and--I'm jumping here--in Oklahoma, one of those things at camp and stuff like that.

Robinson: There was a church in San Diego, 800 members going through a changing time. The area was changing just like it did at Brotherhood church. They wanted co-pastors. He said, You and I can go there as co-pastors. And I agreed. I agreed. I told the people I was going to leave and they were upset. By then, I had made friends. By then, Don Close [ph] had left and I was there by myself. So I came back to Pittsburgh on a vacation. Just before I was going to get ready to go to San Diego, this young woman wrote me a little note. White woman at Bidwell Church. Come and look and see what we're doing. They had-- they didn't have a pastor for--now, this is a church down the street. They had-- there hadn't been a pastor for close to two years. I came and looked at it. It was the worst looking place I ever saw in my life. Little raggedy church. I said, Oh, man. So I left. I went back and we were going to spend a month. We were back for a month before we went to California. That thing stuck with me.

Unidentified Speaker: Miss Dennis [ph] would you please call extension 0? Miss Dennis would you please call extension 0?

Robinson: I said there's something about this place. I tell you, I got a really--I got a deep sense and a deep feel for this place. My wife--my wife said, you got to be--you got to be out of your mind to, you know. I said, I can't help it. Well, of course, I'd never been in a Black church. I've never been any church aside from Brotherhood Church and--and that was predominantly white. What was left was predominantly white. There's only a few Blacks at Brotherhood Church.

Snow: Even by the time you left?

Robinson: It wasn't many. Snow: No? Robinson: You know, people walk by that church all them years and all of a sudden you think all the Black people are going to run in there and join. No way. Strong AME church up the street, strong Black Baptist Church up the street, strong Methodist Church up the street. There's Brotherhood Church all these years. You think these people why all of a sudden should we join?