MONTREAL - In December 1945, Brooklyn Dodgers president Branch Rickey told Clay Hopper he had been promoted to manage the organization’s top minor league team, the Montreal Royals, in the coming year. Hopper was elated — until Rickey told him the team had Jackie Robinson, the first black in professional baseball since the 1880s.

Hopper, who worked as a cotton broker in the segregated state of Mississippi in the off-season, recoiled. Hopper asked Rickey if Robinson could play on one of the other teams in the organization.

“Please don’t do this to me,” Hopper reportedly told Rickey. “I’m white and I’ve lived in Mississippi all my life. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to force me to move my family and home out of Mississippi.”

Rickey refused.

Hopper remained the team’s manager, and, according to Robinson, put aside his racist attitudes and treated the ballplayer fairly well during the season, which ended with the Royals winning their first International League championship.

By overcoming his own sense of bigotry, Hopper became redeemed. But more than that, he represented how countless others — ballplayers, managers, spectators, and even those who previously had given little thought to baseball — were transformed by Jackie Robinson.

The movie 42: The True Story of an American Legend opens in theatres April 12, nearly 66 years after Robinson played his first game in the major leagues, April 15, 1947. Chadwick Boseman plays Robinson, Harrison Ford plays Branch Rickey, and Brett Cullen plays Clay Hopper.

Hopper met Robinson at the beginning of spring training in Florida in March 1946. Robinson was surprised when his new manager, albeit reluctantly, shook the ballplayer’s hand. A few days later, however, Hopper told a sportswriter that he was glad his father was dead. “If he were alive, he would probably kill me for managing a black player,” Hopper said.

At one point during spring training, Hopper was sitting with Rickey watching a Montreal practice. Robinson, playing first base, made a diving play. “Have you ever seen a human being make a play like this?” Rickey exclaimed.

Hopper remained quiet for a moment and then replied, “Mr. Rickey, do you really think a nigra is a human being?”

Rickey didn’t respond. Rickey knew that nothing he could say could, according to Rickey biographer Lee Lowenfish, “undo in a few words what generations of prejudice had created in heart and mind of the southern-bred baseball man.”

As the 1946 regular season progressed, Hopper was more and more enthusiastic in his praise of Robinson, who later said he was always treated fairly by the manager. When the season ended and the Royals won the league championship, Hopper warmly shook Robinson’s hand. “You’re a great ballplayer and fine gentleman,” Hopper told Robinson. “It’s been wonderful having you on the team.”

Hopper recommended Robinson for promotion to the Brooklyn Dodgers the following year. Robinson then spent the next decade in the major leagues, ending up in the Baseball Hall of Fame. Hopper, however, remained a minor-league manager. He never got his chance to manage in the big leagues. But, like so many others who saw Robinson play, he got his chance at redemption.

Chris Lamb is a professor of journalism at Indiana University, Indianapolis, where he is also a member of the National Sports Journalism Center. He is the author of Blackout: The Untold Story of Jackie Robinson’s First Spring Training.

lambch@iupui.edu