said, ‘You go. I’ll watch the rest of the picture.’ When I got to the clubhouse, I said, ‘Hey Skip, where’s Mays?’ He said, ‘On a plane going to New York.’ I had to go pack up his stuff and send it to him. I felt glad for him. I said, ‘Maybe I’ll be next.’"
But Dandridge would never get the call. He closed out his third season with the Millers by hitting .324 at age 38. He was old enough to be the father of many ballplayers, and indeed his frank, kindly demeanor had a paternal effect. He didn’t make it to the majors, but the advice he gave younger blacks like Mays, Irvin and Cleveland Indian outfielder Larry Doby – who broke the American League color line – played an important, if subtle, role in the integration of the sport.
Dandridge played for one more year in Minneapolis, a season with both Sacramento and Oakland, and then one season more in Bismarck, N. Dak., where, at 41, he hit .360 before hanging up his glove. He moved back to Newark, tended bar and worked with youngsters in a recreation center before his retirement to Florida.
Today he says, "Being elected to the Hall of Fame doesn’t make me less bitter. I wanted so much to make the majors. It still presses my mind. The Hall of Fame is the greatest honor a player can receive, and I’m thankful they honored me. But I never made no money and I’m just surviving. Some of the worst players today make more money in a year than I did in my whole career."
Dandridge gets up and walks over to a wall cluttered with photographs and clips. He looks at himself standing beside a towering Josh Gibson in Mexico, smiling with Willie Mays in Cuba and accepting the batting-streak trophy.
The deft hands unconsciously lapse into a throwing motion as he gazes at the headlines announcing his election to the Hall of Fame. "I think about it a whole lot," he says finally. "Sometimes I dream that I was a star. Oh, funny dreams. I dream what it would be like if I made the majors."
He pauses and stares at the photographs. He says, "I used to say I came out of the cornfields into organized baseball. Now I can say I came from the cornfields to the Hall of Fame."
That's all!