TWENTY-FIVE
BROOKLYN, NEW YORKWhen Powell and Chester entered Branch Rickey’s office at Ebbets Field ten minutes early on Tuesday, they were surprised to find that the Dodgers president had visitors. Two men. One white. One black.
“Art.” A smoking cigar in his fingers, Rickey greeted Powell with a handshake. “I see you brought your young man.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Rickey.”
“Everybody sit down. Please.” Rickey waited for them to take a seat, the players closest to the Dodgers executive in his swivel chair. “Gentlemen, as far as I know, only two of you have met so far, Robinson and Parker.” Rickey didn’t wait for any acknowledgment. “Art, this is Clyde Sukeforth, one of my scouts. Clyde, say hello to Art Powell.”
The scouts shook hands.
Rickey studied the two black players, Jackie Robinson a
