But he was certainly willing to make a breach in the league’s segregated roster if it would give his team an edge, and so, at the meeting in the Biltmore, when it came time to announce the Celtics’ second-round pick, Walter Brown said, “Boston takes Charles Cooper of Duquesne.”

It was a momentous occasion. There had been no official discussions among the owners about integrating the NBA, and the development seemed certain to have repercussions. Eddie Gottlieb, the owner of the Philadelphia Warriors, leaned over to Sid Hartman, who worked in the front office of the Lakers, and said, “Abe’s gonna go crazy.” Abe was Abe Saperstein, the owner of the Harlem Globetrotters. The Trotters at the time were a much larger draw than any of the NBA teams; they played in many of the same arenas, with the Trotters often leading the bill in a doubleheader that featured two NBA teams in the second half. Saperstein had a proprietary interest in black basketball players and a virtual monopoly on them as well. And while he had been a powerful supporter of the NBA, he was afraid that if the league started recruiting black players, his talent pool might dry up, and NBA teams with black players might undercut fan interest in the Globetrotters.

The franchise owners, for their part, worried that if Saperstein felt the NBA was competing against him, he might boycott their arenas, and they made more money selling tickets for the Trotters than they did for their own money-losing teams. And whatever their private feelings about race, the owners had to contend with the fact that most basketball fans were the same blue-collar white males who showed up to watch hockey games, and as a whole, this was not a demographic that in 1950 had embraced a mixing of the races. For the owners, the operant phrase was, “It’s a white dollar.” They were uncertain whether the arrival of black players would enliven and strengthen the game or send an already tottering sport into collapse, and at least some of them did not want to find out.

“Do you realize Mr. Cooper is a Negro?” one of the owners asked Brown.

“I don’t care if he’s plaid!” Brown said. “All I know is this kid can play basketball and we want him on the team.”

The owners called a recess but quickly realized that the league had no technical grounds to prevent Brown from drafting Cooper. They reconvened and there was no more dissent. In fact, once Brown had broken the color barrier, other owners were quick to follow. The Washington Capitols picked Earl Lloyd of Washington State in the draft’s ninth round, and later in the summer the Knickerbockers lured Nat “Sweetwater” Clifton from the Harlem Globetrotters. 2* Abe Saperstein was in fact enraged and threatened Brown with a boycott of Boston Garden, but Brown did not back down. The day after Cooper learned he had been drafted by the Celtics, he sent Brown a telegram. “Thank you for offering me a chance in pro basketball. I hope I’ll never give you cause to regret it.”

 

A WEEK AFTER the draft, on April 27, 1950, Walter Brown hosted a luncheon at the Hotel Lenox to officially introduce Auerbach to the Boston press corps. One reporter observed that, despite Auerbach’s nickname, his “hair is now somewhat sparse and dark brown after his harrowing experiences as a pro coach.” Auerbach was barraged with questions about his decision to draft Charlie Share instead of Bob Cousy. He tried to explain that what would fill seats in the Garden was a winning team and that, as far as he was concerned, Bob Cousy had not demonstrated a talent that would help the Celtics win. And then, in comments that displayed to the reporters the new coach’s boisterously confrontational manner, Auerbach said, “I don’t give a damn for sentiment or names. That goes for Cousy and everybody else. The only thing that counts with me is ability, and Cousy still hasn’t proven to me that he’s got that ability. I’m not interested in drafting someone just because he happens to be a local yokel.” Auerbach turned to Walter Brown, who was standing next to him. “Am I supposed to win or am I supposed to please these guys?” he asked.

“Just win,” Brown said.

 

The sportswriters were outraged. SENTIMENT OUT—AUERBACH was the headline in the next day’s Herald. Cousy himself was stunned and humiliated. He’d expected, even assumed, he’d be drafted by the Celtics. After all, he was not just a talented local player but a genuine star, the leader of an NCAA championship team. And he was a proven draw at the Garden. When he was taken out of games, the Boston fans would chant his name—Couseee! Couseee!—until his coach sent him back in.

Raised in a tenement in the Yorkville section of Manhattan, Cousy was the son of a taxi driver who’d immigrated from the Alsace-Lorraine region of France. While only six-one and incredibly skinny, he had long arms, big hands, quick feet, and even quicker eyes.