FOURTEEN
BROOKLYN, NEW YORKIt was the first time Artie Powell had been inside Branch Rickey’s office. To one side of the president’s desk were framed photographs of retired major leaguers, Honus Wagner, Rogers Hornsby, and the person to Powell’s immediate right, fifty-two-year-old George Sisler, a two-time .400 hitter, a Hall of Famer since 1939, and presently one of Rickey’s best scouts in the hunt for colored baseball talent.
Rickey had the New York Times open on his desk. He showed honest sympathy when he read aloud the American casualty figures in the war. More than 600,000 men and women had been wounded on all fronts. Over 60,000 were missing in action. Over 75,000 were still listed as prisoners of war. And a quarter of a million were dead. “This is it, gentlemen.” Rickey changed ge
