Robinson’s career, as it should be, is celebrated. Dozens of movies, magazines and books tell the story of his brilliant 10-year run as a Boy of Summer. Playing with guys named Pee Wee and Duke and Newk, he was an integral part of unit that won but one world championship, but was still the stuff of legends. Five years after he retired (the minimum waiting period), Robinson was immortalized in Cooperstown, integrating baseball’s Hall of Fame just as he had once integrated the NationalLeague.

But what of the man who followed him — followed him by a mere 11 weeks, as the first African-American in the American League. That man’s story has largely been obscured by the mists of time. It happens. Few can identify the second man to run a four-minute mile or walk on the moon. And few, other than hard-core baseball fans, can identify Larry Doby as the man who followed on Jackie’s heels. Or for that matter, the man who followed Frank Robinson as the big league’s second African-American manager. That too, was Doby.

In 11 full major league seasons and fragments of two others, Doby pounded 253 homers (116 more than Robinson) and drove in 970 runs (236 more than Robinson). Robinson was named to six N.L. all-star teams. Doby made seven A.L. squads in a row from 1949-1955.

But Hollywood hasn’t told Doby’s story. And Cooperstown put the two-time A.L. home run king on hold for 34 long years, before it belatedly put a call through.

It can be rightly argued that Robinson sailed uncharted waters, that his quantifiable numbers reveal but a tiny portion of his contributions to the game and American society. But what of Doby. Robinson paved the way, but when Doby joined him on the pioneering road, there were still more than a few potholes.

It might even be argued that Doby’s lot was often tougher. Robinson was a worldly 28 when he arrived in the National League after a year of acclimation with the Dodgers’ Montreal farm team.

Doby, on the other hand, was a kid of 22 when his moment of truth arrived. On July 4, 1947, he played in a Negro League doubleheader. The next morning he met with Cleveland owner Bill Veeck. who told him simply, “Call me Bill and I’ll call you Lawrence. We’re in this thing together.” And on the night of July 5, Doby took the field as a member of the Indians.

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Doby is now 75 years old and recovering from a kidney operation, but he looked fit and anything but bitter when he arrived in Salisbury Saturday evening to take part in NSSA activities.

He says he used to visit Durham often (his son went to Duke), but this is his first visit to Salisbury. Doby knew that he was not far from where Billy Goodman, the 1950 A.L. batting champ, grew up in Cabarrus County. Goodman used to threw batting practice to Doby while they were in the Navy.

Doby says Salisbury reminds him of Camden, S.C., the town where he was born and lived for a time before moving to Paterson, N.J., where he became a schoolboy athletic legend.

And maybe that’s why the memories come flooding back so easily.

Doby remembers the feeling of euphoria he had in the Navy in 1945 when the words came over Armed Forces Radio: “The Dodgers have just signed Jackie Robinson.”

“That meant an opportunity to play major league baseball,” said Doby. “I’d never thought that much about it, because there had been no chance.”

Doby got his early opportunity in ‘47 for two reasons. First, he could play. He was fast and had so much left-handed power that he once hit a ball 465 feet at Yankee Stadium. Second, there were no character questions.

“I owe that to my mother and grandmother,” he says. “Growing up I went to church on Sunday for four hours. Those two told me to keep my nose clean. That’s an old Southern saying that means stay out of trouble. I didn’t forget.”

Doby’s white teammates treated him well, accepted him immediately, because he could help them win.

“I had no trouble fitting in, says Doby. “I’d been the only black player on my high school football team. Even back in segregated Camden, maybe I couldn’t go to the same school or go to the movies with the white kids, but I still played with them on the street.”

Opposing fans and players, of course, weren’t as friendly to Doby. There were brushback pitches and there was name-calling.

“But that was no problem,” says Doby. “I could always get back at them by beating them on the field.”

But there was one thing Doby couldn’t beat. In some cities, he couldn’t stay at the same hotel as his teammates. That’s when it got tough.

“I’d always been able to talk over a ballgames with my buddies,” he said. “Now, I couldn’t put a bad game out of mind. I’d go back to my hotel alone and have to think all night about that error or strikeout. That hurt my performance— my consistency. It would have been nice to just go out and play baseball.”

That first year, Doby struggled, hitting .156 in 29 games and playing poorly in the infield. He thought when manager Lou Boudreau called him in to his office at season’s end, it was to give him his release. But Boudreau simply told him to have a good off-season, that the Indians would welcome him at spring training.

In ‘48, Doby’s career took off when he moved to the outfield. He helped the Indians win the World Series that season, belting a key homer in the Fall Classic off Boston Braves star Johnny Sain.

In ‘54, Doby belted a homer in front of his home fans in the All-Star game and helped the Indians reach another World Series. He was traded to Chicago prior to the ‘56 season. There he had three more productive seasons, before his career started winding down. After a back injury in ‘59 robbed him of his power, he was shipped back to the minors. There, his final comeback attempt was stalled by a broken ankle.

His career ended too soon, but he could look around with some satisfaction. By ‘59, 15 of the 16 big league teams had African-American players. Willie Mays was in San Francisco and Hank Aaron was in Milwaukee. Even Doby’s biggest rival, the New York Yankees, had integrated their team in 1955 with Elston Howard.

“In my time, I proved I could play,” says Doby. “There’s a whole lot of satisfaction in that. But I was lucky. I had some ability and was blessed with a great family.”

Not as blessed as Salisbury to have such a distinguished visitor. Larry Doby may have been second, but he should never be forgotten.

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