CLEVELAND, Ohio – I first met Bill Veeck early in the 1979 baseball season. He was the owner of the Chicago White Sox. I was in Chicago’s old Comiskey Park covering the Orioles for the Baltimore Evening Sun.

It was before the game. Veeck was sitting in the press box, smoking a cigarette. A few writers were with him. Veeck put his wooden leg up on the press box counter.

As Veeck talked, he chain-smoked. He put out one cigarette after another on the wooden leg, tossing the butt into a cup. Then he took out a match, fired it up on the wooden leg, then lit up another cigarette.

At the time, Veeck was a 65-year-old chain-smoker with a leathery, wrinkled face and tired eyes. His right leg was initially injured during World War II. He was operating an anti-aircraft gun on the South Pacific island of Bougainville. The gun recoiled, mashing Veeck’s leg. Doctors immediately wanted to amputate it, but Veeck refused.

Eventually, he relented after battling infections for a few years. He had several surgeries. The former Marine wasn’t talking about the leg on that night in 1979. He was telling stories about buying the Indians in 1946 and packing fans into the old Municipal Stadium with fun promotions.

The dreamer

The subject of Larry Doby came up. Doby was the first Black player in the American League. Veeck signed Doby in the middle of the 1947 season. He took the 23-year-old directly from the Newark Eagles of the Negro Leagues to join the Tribe in Chicago for a game on July 5, 1947.

“I wanted to do that (integrate the Majors) for years,” Veeck said, snuffing out one cigarette, lighting up another. “I tried to buy the Phillies (in 1942). I had watched Satchel (Paige) and others from the Negro Leagues. My plan was to sign a bunch of them, and we would have immediately had one of the best teams in baseball.”

Veeck said he believed he had to tell former Baseball Commissioner Judge Kenesaw Mountain Landis of his plans. Landis said baseball had no formal rules against having Black players in the Majors. But Veeck believed Landis fought against his bid with other owners and he was rejected.

But that goal of adding Black players remained when he bought the Tribe.

He also said the player he first wanted to sign for Cleveland was Paige, the legendary Negro League pitcher. Paige had barnstormed with Bob Feller at the end of several baseball seasons. They played exhibition games with stars from the Majors and Negro leagues in different towns – and made money.

“But if I signed Satchel, I was afraid they (the media and the baseball establishment) would say it was ‘just another of Veeck’s gimmicks,’ ” he said.

Veeck was known for having fireworks, clowns, bands, crazy giveaways – anything to attract a crowd.

Paige loved to give reporters different ages, often 10 years apart. It was later discovered Paige was born on July 7, 1906. That means he would have been 40 when Veeck considered bringing him to Cleveland.

Instead, he focused on Doby, a young star in the Negro Leagues for the Newark Eagles.

The planner

Most fans know that Jackie Robinson broke MLB’s color line when he opened the 1947 season with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Dodgers GM Branch Rickey not only was determined to bring Black players into Majors, but he also was dedicated to finding the right man and putting him in the right plan so it would be a success.

Rickey picked Robinson, a former star at UCLA in four different sports. Robinson had served in the military. Rickey signed Robinson to play the 1946 season for Class AAA Montreal. Rickey’s goal was for Robinson to spend some time in the minors not only to help his own development, but also to allow the people in the Dodgers organization to see his talent.

Robinson batted .349 (.929 OPS) with 40 steals in 1946, his only minor league season. He then went to spring training with the Dodgers’ Major League team in 1947. He excelled there.

This is an important part of the Doby story.

Some of the Dodgers players didn’t like the idea of having the first Black player as a teammate, but they knew Robinson could play. He’d proved it in the minors and spring training. Robinson also had the benefit of dealing with the white world of baseball during that 1946 minor league season and the spring training of 1947.

Robinson batted .297 (.810 OPS) with 29 stolen bases, the most in the National League. He also was the NL rookie of the year.

Another key fact about Robinson in 1947: He was 28 years old.

The player

I interviewed Larry Doby while I was still in college. He was a coach with the Chicago White Sox, who trained in Sarasota. I believe it was the spring of 1976 or 1977 when I talked to Doby late one Florida morning. I was selling stories to a Cleveland based weekly called “The Sports Beat.”

Doby was kind to a young reporter. He was the White Sox hitting coach. We talked for a while about his time in Cleveland. I wish I could find the story, but my search came up empty.

I wrote about him being “second” to break the color line, and how he felt about that.

“I went through the same things Jackie did,” I remember him telling me. “What had changed in the three months between when Jackie came in and I did? Nothing.”

Doby said it in a soft voice. No bitterness. It was a simple statement of fact.

Only, it wasn’t.

Later I would understand that Doby had it worse than Robinson. Doby didn’t go to the minors for a year. Doby didn’t go to spring training with Cleveland.

One day, Doby was playing the first game of a doubleheader for the Newark Eagles of the Negro Leagues. After the opener, he was put on a train to Chicago to join the Tribe for a July 5, 1947 game with the White Sox.

The manager

Early in July, Lou Boudreau talked with Veeck. Cleveland’s shortstop and manager had been asking the owner to acquire an outfielder.

When Veeck reached out to Boudreau, the manager assumed a player move was coming. The Tribe had kept an open roster spot since June 14.

“We have a new player,” said Veeck, who also served as his own general manager.

Boudreau waited.

“He’s a Negro,” said Veeck. “Larry Doby.”

At first, Boudreau said nothing. He had never heard of Doby. While Veeck was quietly having Doby scouted by a few friends and contacts in the Negro Leagues, he never mentioned that to the manager.

“What does he play?” asked Boudreau.

“Second base,” said Veeck. “He can also play shortstop.”

Boudreau was stunned. All-Star Joe Gordon was his second baseman. Boudreau was his own shortstop.

The manager kept thinking things such as, “Where will I play him? How will the players handle this? Is this kid any good? It’s the middle of the season and they are just bringing him straight to the big leagues? Really?”

The promoter & the writers

Veeck used Louis Jones to help scout the Negro Leagues. Jones, who was Black, had the role of Veeck’s personal assistant. He had been married to actress/singer Lena Horne. Most of Jones’ experience was in show business as a promoter.

Veeck had Jones spend a few weeks in Newark, checking out various players. Monte Irvin was a star who later signed with the New York Giants. Doby was batting .354 (1.182 OPS) with eight homers and 41 RBI in 30 games for Newark. At 23, he was the best young player in the league.

Doby said he had encountered Jones in the middle of June:

“I met Mr. Louis Jones when we were playing in New York,” said Doby. “When he left me, he said, ‘You’ll probably be in our organization in two or three weeks.’ I thought he was kidding.”

Veeck also was friends with several sportswriters for Black newspapers. One was Cleveland Jackson, who wrote for the Cleveland Call & Post. Jackson and other writers were more aware of Veeck’s decision to integrate the American League than their white counterparts.

This is part of a letter Jackson wrote to Veeck on June 14, 1947:

“I have looked over the two Negro baseball leagues and have noticed several players who deserve some attention from leading baseball men. I am especially enthusiastic about Larry Doby, an infielder with the Newark Eagles. His outstanding hitting, his top-flight fielding and general all-around playing ability have been instrumental in the Eagles maintaining a high place in the circuit. He’s college-trained and from the North.”

Three days later, Veeck wrote to Jackson that he had sent Bill Killefer to scout Doby, and he “sent in an enthusiastic report.”

The Call & Post wrote, “We consider Doby a very special project and we are pulling for him with every fiber of our being for his success in the major leagues.”

Veeck settled on Doby. He contacted Effa Manley, who owned the Newark Eagles along with her husband Abe Manley. She served as the GM and handled most of the business. When Branch Rickey had signed Robinson and others from the Negro Leagues, he didn’t make an attempt to purchase their contracts. He just signed them and the Negro League teams received nothing in return.

Veeck vowed to do it differently. He offered $10,000 for Doby. Effa Manley countered that Doby would be a lot more if he were white and a free agent. The negotiations continued with Veeck adding he’d pay another $5,000 if Doby remained with Cleveland for 30 days.

The Call & Post praised Veeck for his “scrupulous honesty.”

The train ride

On the morning of July 3, Doby received a phone call from Manley informing him that he had been sold to Cleveland. He was to report to the team in Chicago for a game on July 5. In Cleveland, Veeck had a team meeting telling the players of Doby’s signing.

Then Veeck held a press conference. One of his comments was: “I don’t think anyone who has the ability should be barred from baseball because of his color … The entrance of Negroes is not only inevitable, it’s here.”

Why the rush to sign Doby in the middle of the season?

“Jackie Robinson has proven to be a real big leaguer,” said Veeck. “I wanted to get the best available Negro boys while the grabbing was good. Why wait?”

Hearing the news of Doby, Franklin Lewis of the Cleveland News took a train from Cleveland to Newark. Doby had played the first game of a doubleheader on July 4 for Newark. He homered but also made two errors at second base. He then headed to the Newark train station, where Lewis found him.

“Larry had been so nervous during the game, he couldn’t field a simple grounder,” wrote Lewis. “Larry, sporty in a tieless shirt, fidgeted on the hard bench as he held his pretty wife’s hand. He said, ‘I feel … well .. more than nervous. I feel like I’m going to a new and strange world.’ ”

Dan Burley of the African-American Amsterdam News watched Doby board the train, then wrote that Doby was feeling “the strangeness of his position and deeply afflicted by the role he was called upon to play … He seemed like a boy going off from all things that had been familiar to him.”

A last thought about Doby from Lewis from that day at the train station: “He was … and is … plain scared.”

Rules of the new game

Doby was on the train for about 12 hours from Newark to Chicago. He was exhausted, and had barely slept for three days since hearing Cleveland call. When he arrived in Chicago, he met Veeck for the first time.

Veeck put out his hand and said, “Lawrence, I’m Bill Veeck,”

Doby shook the hand and said, “Nice to meet you Mr. Veeck,”

Veeck said: “You don’t have to call me Mr. Veeck, I’m Bill.”

Then Veeck had a talk with Doby. In a 1997 New York Times interview, Doby said Veeck explained: “Lawrence, you are going to be a part of history … no arguing with umpires. Don’t even turn around on a bad call at the plate. No dissertations with opposing players … those may cause a race riot. No associating with female Caucasians … remember, people are watching you.”

Those were the same basic rules given Jackie Robinson by Branch Rickey. Don’t react negatively to anything on the field. You just have to take it, no matter how awful and insulting were the comments.

Veeck then said, “We’re in this together, kid … Just remember, you’re only another baseball player.”

Doby was anything but another player on July 5, 1947.

The Plain Dealer’s Gordon Cobbledick wrote:

“The actual signing was accomplished before a battery of cameras in the office adjoining White Sox general manager Leslie O’Connor. Doby was nervous and a little frightened, but he said he’d get over it.”

The reception

Several Cleveland media members were with Doby when he walked into the Tribe’s locker room.

“When the door was thrown open, Doby stepped into the stuffy, steamy and small clubhouse,” wrote Lewis. “More than 25 players were in full uniform, each in front of his locker. Not even the scuffle of a solitary spike on the bottom of a shoe broke the horrible tomblike muteness … Boudreau approached, shook hands with Doby and said, ‘Get dressed now, we’ll be out on the field.’ The Indians filed out of the room. Not a word was uttered. Larry Doby had been welcomed to the big leagues.”

The Plain Dealer’s Cobbledick wrote: “an electric tension charged the steaming air (as Doby entered the locker room). The wordless hostility seemed to crackle and spark. No one spoke even a tentative ‘Hello.’ ”

In interviews over the years, Doby later said two players refused to shake his hand. Others did, but the temperature remained frosty.

When they took the field, Joe Gordon saw Doby by himself. The veteran second baseman went over and offered to play catch. Gordon would become one of Doby’s close friends.

“Where will Doby play?” reporters asked Boudreau.

“At short or second, that’s where they tell me he belongs,” said the manager.

It’s worth putting yourself in the place of Boudreau and the players. Doby was unknown as a person and player. He didn’t pay the minor league dues. Some players wondered if this was another Veeck publicity stunt to draw more fans and media attention to his team.

Doby was dropped into their midst in the middle of a frustrating season where Cleveland had a 29-30 record and was 8½ games behind the Yankees. This was not the Majors of today with division and wild card playoff berths. Baseball had two leagues, each with eight teams. The winner of each league went to the World Series, the others went home.

Boudreau was in the final year of his contract. He sensed Veeck wanted another manager. The manager knew many players thought Doby was taking someone’s job – and Doby hadn’t earned it. Boudreau also had no idea where to play the young man. The manager had to wonder if this would lead to him being fired after the season.

The game

Boudreau didn’t have Doby in the lineup for the game vs. the White Sox. In the seventh inning, Cleveland was behind, 5-1. They had two runners on base with two outs. Pitcher Bryan Stephens was due up.

Boudreau sent Doby to pinch hit. He was surprised, then jittery as he came to the plate. He had gotten off the train only eight hours ago. He was given no indication of the team’s plans for him. Mostly, he sat alone in the corner of the dugout.

“For Larry Doby, it took but a few short minutes to walk up to that plate,” wrote Cleveland Jackson in the Call & Post. “But for 13 million American Negroes, that simple action was the climax of a long uphill fight whose annals are like the saga of the race.”

If this were a movie, Doby would have hit a homer. Or at least a base hit. He did lash a line drive that was just foul down the left field line. But he struck out.

After the game, all the Cleveland players went to the Del Pardo Hotel in Chicago. Make that all but one … Larry Doby. That hotel had a “whites only” policy.

Veeck’s assistant Louis Jones took Doby to the DuSable Hotel on Chicago’s South Side. That’s where he stayed. He went out to eat with Jones along with African-American writers Frank “Fay” Young and Cleveland Jackson.

The season

Doby rarely played that first season. His initial big league start was the next day – at first base. Doby didn’t know the position. He didn’t have a first baseman’s glove. Traveling secretary Harold Goldstein asked first baseman Eddie Robinson if Doby could use his glove. Robinson refused.

According to the book “Our Team,” an excellent account of the Tribe during this era by Luke Epplin, Goldstein eventually convinced Robinson to hand over his glove. But after doing so, Robinson threatened to quit the team. He eventually changed his mind.

Ed McAuley of the Cleveland News reported the players were upset about Doby starting “at the expense of Eddie Robinson … as a publicity stunt for which the prospects of some other members of the squad will be sacrificed.”

Doby never played first base or even started a game for the rest of the 1947 season. He had five hits in 33 at-bats.

Doby was a man alone. Because he was Black, no white player roomed with him.

“(Doby) suffered an iceberg act,” wrote Doc Young in the Chicago Defender. “(His teammates) allowed him more space on the bench than anyone in the history of the game.”

Players such as Joe Gordon and Jim Hegan spent time with Doby, but few others did. Since he rarely played, he had no chance to prove he was worthy of being in the Majors. He was viewed as a failure, a mistake. He feared he would be released before the 1948 season.

The Statue

Jackie Robinson and Doby both faced the same racial taunts and discrimination. They were the only Black players on their teams.

But there was a major difference …

“Rickey planned Robinson’s entrance as carefully as a man would build a house with match sticks,” wrote Doc Young in the Chicago Defender.

If Veeck were building a house with the blueprint he used for Doby, he would have started with the roof full of holes and not bothered to build a foundation or put up some walls.

But during the season, Veeck realized Doby was mishandled.

“Rickey was smarter than me,” Veeck told reporters after the 1947 season. “I tried to bring him along too fast.”

This time, Veeck planned. Doby’s speed and arm made him a natural for the outfield. Doby would go to spring training, and not only learn the outfield – he also would have a special teacher.

“They brought in Tris (Speaker),” former Plain Dealer sports columnist Hal Lebovitz told me years ago. “Tris was perfect. He was patient. He connected with Doby, who was shy and really struggling with his confidence.”

Speaker was a Hall of Fame center fielder. He also was Cleveland’s player/manager when they won the 1920 World Series. Lebovitz said Speaker helped save Doby’s career. Lebovitz was in spring training with the team in 1948 and saw the two men work together.

“I’ve never seen a young ballplayer with such a high potential,” Speaker told Shirley Povich of the Washington Post. “I get a personal pleasure out of working with a kid who can do so many things so well.”

In 1948, Doby batted .301 (.873 OPS) with 14 HR and was superb in center field. He went on to make nine All-Star teams.

I’ve heard that he was a “Gold Glove-caliber outfielder” from some who saw Doby play. But the Gold Glove award didn’t start until 1957. Doby retired after the 1959 season.

Veeck and Doby remained close. When I talked to Veeck that Chicago day in 1979, Doby was the White Sox hitting coach. He had been the White Sox interim manager in 1978. Yes, that made him second again … Cleveland’s Frank Robinson was the first Black manager.

In the end, Bill Veeck was right about Larry Doby. He did belong in the Majors. In his own impulsive, inspired way, the man smoking all those cigarettes and putting them out in his wooden leg made it happen.

As for Doby, he was inducted into the Hall of Fame in 1998. He thanked Tris Speaker in his speech for the help in 1948.

Doby’s statue was put up in front of Progressive Field in 2015. But the real story is how Doby was almost set up to fail in his early days, but found a way to overcome even more obstacles than most people realize.

Note: Material for the story came from conversations I had over the years, including with Larry Doby and Bill Veeck. I wish I had kept my notes and those stories.

I have an extensive old newsclip file from Doby’s debut, stories from The Plain Dealer, Press, Cleveland News, the Cleveland Call & Post and other publications. I did the research for my book, “Our Tribe.”

The book “The Cleveland Indians” by Franklin Lewis is an excellent history of the franchise from its birth through the 1948 season. Lewis has some excellent material on Doby.

“Our Team” by Luke Epplin is an incredible account of how the 1948 Indians came together.