by Jerry Reuss
With two outs in the top of the fifth inning and no runners on base, Stoneman came to the plate. I drilled him with the first pitch. Ed Vargo, the home-plate umpire, issued a warning to both clubs, which meant I was fined either twenty-five or fifty dollars; I don’t remember the amount.1 What I do remember, however, was that Red pulled me aside a few weeks later and asked me, “Did you pay the fine?” I told him I did. Red, who had just received his meal money for an upcoming road trip, reached in the envelope, pulled out a few bills, and said, “This one’s on me.”
A Pleasure to Meet You, Mr. Mays
The Cardinals opened the 1971 season in Chicago with Gibson and Carlton starting those games. A quirk in the schedule gave us two off days before the Saturday-afternoon home opener against the Giants, followed by a Sunday doubleheader.
Red named me the starter for the Cardinals’ home opener against the Giants on April 10, 1971. I was excited because this was an honor, especially when family and friends could attend. The game didn’t go exactly as I hoped it would, although it had a memorable start. In the top of the first I struck out Willie Mays on three pitches. When I threw a letter-high fastball and he swung right through it, I thought, “There’s some gas for ya, Willie!” When he took a called third strike to end the inning, I was feeling cocky.
When Mays batted the second time with a runner on and two out in the third inning, I got two quick strikes on him. I remembered that letter-high fastball he missed in the first. I fired another high fastball, and this time he didn’t miss it. In fact, he hit it off the fence covering the Anheuser-Busch sign on the scoreboard! I watched him as he rounded second base and thought, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Mays!”
The Trades of Carlton and Reuss
Many years I’ve attended the Cardinals’ Winter Warmup, which raises money for baseball fields around the St. Louis area. For me, it’s a chance to give something to the community where I have roots. It also gives me a chance to visit with Cardinal fans, who are among the nicest and most passionate fans in all of baseball. During those visits it doesn’t take long before someone brings up the trades of both Steve Carlton and myself and the alternate-universe theories about how many more games, pennants, and World Championships their hometown team would have won if those trades had never been made. I listen patiently, because the fans have put some thought into this and have some interesting conclusions.
This question has been discussed for years in newspaper columns, on radio talk shows, and even in some books. In his book The Spirit of St. Louis, Peter Golenbock says the trades of Carlton and myself cost the Cardinals at least four division championships, though he gives no details on how he arrived at that figure.2 Rob Neyer believes the two trades cost the Cardinals division championships in 1973, 1974, and 1981 and goes into great depth when explaining why.3 Bob Gibson in his 1994 book, Stranger to the Game, points out a ten-month period when Cards GM Bing Devine traded four pitchers (Fred Norman, Mike Torrez in June 1971, and Carlton and myself in the spring of 1972) who won a total of 714 games after leaving the Cardinals.4
In checking the numbers for the pitchers obtained in these deals and their legacies (players they were traded for), they won a total of 50 games for the Cardinals and a total of 171 from their time as a Cardinal to the end of their careers. There were some everyday players such as Reggie Smith and Ted Kubiak who were included in the labyrinth of deals, but I don’t know of any metric that can convert the production of everyday players into wins and losses for pitchers. As I don’t know why Norman and Torrez were traded, here’s what I remember (with the help of the notated authors) on the trades of both Steve and me because both deals relate to the mind-set of Mr. Busch.5
“I Don’t Care If He Throws Another Damn Ball for Us”
First, here’s a look at the history between the Cardinals and Carlton. In 1970 negotiations between Steve and the club were so acrimonious that club owner August Busch Jr. stated publicly, “I don’t care if he throws another damn ball for us.” Carlton eventually signed a two-year deal. Carlton started negotiations in 1972 for $75,000, and the club countered with $57,500. According to Carlton, further talks left the parties slightly less than $10,000 apart.6
But the Cardinals had had enough of Carlton’s holdouts. According to general manager Bing Devine, “Many times Mr. Busch gave me some leeway in the budget, but in the case of Carlton, Mr. Busch developed the feeling that Carlton was a ‘smart-aleck’ young guy, ‘and I’m not used to having smart-alecks tell me what to do.’”
In August 1971 President Nixon had ordered wage and price controls for the country, and Busch informed Carlton it was his patriotic duty to honor the president’s request for a salary ceiling. I often wondered how Mr. Busch would have responded had the president ordered profit controls.
Carlton held his ground and angered Busch so badly that as spring training approached, Busch finally ordered Bing Devine to trade him. Devine knew what a great pitcher Carlton promised to be, but was boxed in because Busch wouldn’t bend on the question of giving Carlton the difference, and neither would Carlton.
“One morning the phone rang,” Devine said. “It was Dick Meyer. This time he asked ‘What have you done about Carlton?’” Devine said, “What do you mean?” Dick said, “Do you have a trade you can make for him?” Devine answered, “Yeah, I could probably make a deal with the Phillies. Why?” Meyer answered, “Because my ulcer is acting up. Mr. Busch comes in every morning and says, ‘Have you gotten Carlton signed? If you don’t have him signed, do you have him traded? If you don’t have him traded, why not?’” Meyer continued, “I’m tired of putting up with that and having my ulcer act up, so my best suggestion to you is that you do me a favor and trade him today.” Bing continued, “And that was it. I traded him to the Phillies for Rick Wise.”7
Holding Out
After Carlton was traded the Cardinals still had four unsigned players to deal with as spring training approached: Joe Torre, the 1971 National League Most Valuable Player (MVP); reserve outfielder Bob Burda; catcher Ted Simmons; and myself.
About this same time the owners’ contract with the Players Association that was signed in 1969 would expire on March 31, 1972. Marvin Miller asked for an increase in the owners’ pension contribution that covered the past three years of inflation and an increase in health insurance benefits.
Marvin traveled through Florida and Arizona, explaining to players at every spring-training stop the current stalemate in negotiations, and gathered strike-authorization votes for a March 31 walkout. John Gaherin, the lead negotiator for the owners, was looking for a compromise. He told the owners, “We’re just talking about money here.”
For the owners, the issue went far beyond money. The issue was Marvin Miller. They weren’t about to let him tell them how to run their business. After a mid-March meeting with the Players Relations Committee, Busch told reporters, “We voted unanimously to take a stand. We’re not going to give them another goddamn cent. If they want to strike—let them.”8
Negotiating My Contract
I learned in 1968 the Cardinals would split the difference on salary figures. We did it every year from 1968 to 1970. In 1970 on a Minor/Major League contract, I earned $1,750 a month in the Minors and the Major League prorated minimum of $12,000, which totaled a little more than $11,000 for the 1970 season. In 1971, after winning seven games for Tulsa and seven more for the Cardinals in 1970, I was paid $17,000, a raise of almost $6,000! This was the first time the club and I were in complete agreement on a salary figure that early in the winter.
After a 14–14 season with a bloated 4.78 ERA in my first full season in the Majors, I reasoned I was due a raise. The Cardinals agreed and offered me $20,000. It was a respectable first offer that came in late January. I was hoping to sign a 1972 contract for $23,000–$25,000, which was in line with the raise from 1970 to 1971.
With their offer, I thought we were back to negotiating contracts like the player-development people did. Why wou
ld I believe differently? I then asked for $32,000, knowing that it was just a starting point and we would ultimately meet somewhere in the middle.
While discussing our difference in my contract in his office at the ballpark before spring training, I asked Bing as an aside if there would be a possibility of my wife flying on the charter for one of our road trips. He was polite but told me firmly that there was no possibility of that happening. I thanked him for his consideration, and the matter was closed as far as I was concerned.
Bob Burns, a sportswriter and columnist for the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, reported in his March 4 column that I was “demanding fringes which the Cardinals refuse to grant. One would be for his wife to accompany him on Cardinal trips.”
Who was the source that wrongfully tipped Burns that bit of information? It definitely wasn’t me. I do know that I caught all kinds of hell from the media, fans, and even teammates, as this story was fodder used by newspapers and talk shows throughout the country.
There was no further movement from either Bing or myself as spring training opened. However, the dynamics to my situation were altered when the Cardinals dealt Carlton to the Phillies on February 25. I believed my negotiating position had improved, as I was the only left-handed starter on the club. So I decided to let Bing make the next move.
It’s Just a Matter of Time
On March 7, the Cardinals renewed the contracts of Ted Simmons and me, which allowed the two of us to come to Florida and begin workouts with the club. To the Cardinals’ credit, they renewed our respective contracts at their latest offer when they could have renewed them at a maximum 20 percent cut from our 1971 salaries.
The Cardinals also bought airline tickets for my wife and me. When I showed up in St. Pete, I sported a different look. With the braces on my teeth removed, I grew a mustache over the winter, liked it, and decided to keep it.
When I arrived at the ballpark I saw my locker, which had a piece of tape down the middle, separating the locker into “his” and “hers” compartments. I appreciated the handiwork and started laughing. What the hell else could I do? I was happy to be there and looked forward to starting my season.
I stayed in great shape with my off-season running program, and I threw when the weather allowed it. On the field in spring training I threw batting practice and pitched in a “B” game and a regular game before I shut out the Mets for six and two-thirds innings on March 29. That date was important because on the business side, Major League players, incensed enough to post the challenge of Mr. Busch in every Major League clubhouse, were ready to walk out on March 31. It was my last pitching appearance in spring training and, as it turned out, my last appearance in a Cardinal uniform.
Baseball’s First Work Stoppage
On April 1 Major League Baseball players went on strike. Most players returned home from the spring-training sites. To stay in shape I met with a few other Cardinal players at Florissant Valley Junior College a few days a week. None of us had any idea how long the strike would last. Because many of us hadn’t received a paycheck since the previous September, we were feeling the pressure.
Management also felt the pressure. The owners never imagined players would strike. Once the strike became a reality, their bottom lines came into play. Ultimately, the two sides came to an agreement on April 11.
It took two more days of wrangling, however, to determine whether a total of eighty-six games would be rescheduled (they weren’t) and if players would be paid for their time out (they weren’t). The strike ended April 13.9
The regular season for the Cardinals was scheduled to start on April 7 but was delayed until April 15. Only 7,808 fans were in attendance for opening day. There were just 7,148 on the sixteenth, as the St. Louis fans showed their displeasure with the business of baseball.10 It was not a happy time for the Cardinal Nation. And my name was about to be added to a long list of unhappy St. Louisans.
Houston, We Have a Problem
It was around six on Saturday night, which happened to be opening day. I was talking to a contractor about some improvements to be made on a house I had bought less than twelve months earlier. The phone rang during our meeting. It was Bing Devine.
“Jerry, we made a deal that will send you to Houston,” he said. My initial reaction was omg! It quickly turned into wtf! “Bing, we haven’t talked about the contract for a quite a while, and I’m sure we could have come to an agreement,” I responded. “Jerry, I just didn’t think we could have come to a deal to satisfy you. Here’s the number of Spec Richardson, the Astros’ GM. He’s looking forward to hearing from you,” Bing said in a manner that said, “What’s done is done.” “I’ll be in early tomorrow to clean out my locker,” I said in a state of shock. “There’ll be some papers for you to sign before you leave,” Bing stated in a businesslike manner. “They’ll be in your locker” were his last words before he hung up the phone.
I took a deep breath and returned to the dining room, where the contractor had set up his plans. I told him, “I appreciate your time, but that was the Cardinals. I was traded to Houston.” The gentleman, whose name I can’t remember, might have initially thought that this was just a kiss-off from our deal. Once he saw the look in my eyes, he knew it was real. He packed his briefcase, shook my hand, and said, “Good luck!”
Bing and I never talked about my contract during spring training in 1972. When I was asked about contract status during spring training, I told the reporters that nothing had changed. The newspapers wrote that the Cardinals had reached their limit on that year’s budget.
To this day I’m surprised that Bing never approached me. If we would have had a face- to-face meeting, I believe we would have reached an agreement. That is . . . if he had been given some room to negotiate.
Out of the Bird’s Nest
April 15, 1972: Traded to Houston for Lance Clemons and Scipio Spinks
For years I believed I was traded because of the salary issue. Bing told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, “In the background, is the fact that Reuss didn’t appear happy with us, couldn’t come to terms and we were still far apart.”11
Bing said much the same thing to the Globe-Democrat. “The main basis of a relationship between employer and employee is a somewhat harmonious feeling,” Devine stated. “We didn’t feel he’d be satisfied enough or happy enough in his work, without being influenced by his feelings. And baseball is hard enough to play,” added Devine, “without outside pressure. We saw no hope of getting together after two months in the spring.”12
My first reaction was “Huh?” Those quotes were vague at best. The focus should have been on negotiating a contract and not my happiness. I never told anyone that I was unhappy. I wanted to sign a contract and get on with the business of playing baseball.
I didn’t discover the other reason I was traded until 1998, when a trip to visit my parents in St. Louis also brought me face-to-face with Bing at Busch Stadium. He was in the press box, scouting for those same Houston Astros, so I stopped to say hello. Bing was cordial, so I took a chance and asked why the deal was made some twenty-six years earlier.
He told me it was because I grew a mustache. Mr. Busch didn’t like it and demanded that Devine get rid of me. Thinking that this was another one of Busch’s rants, Bing sat on it for a week. During that week Busch kept pounding Dick Meyer, the VP who developed an ulcer during the Carlton dealings, asking whether I’d been traded yet. Bing knew he had to make a deal.
With that great twenty-twenty hindsight of more than forty years, I believe I was traded for both reasons. The salary difference dictated a trade. That’s common sense. The mustache “thing” was an emotional response on Mr. Busch’s part. I also believe events that were put into motion with Flood’s bold salary statement in 1969, the fallout from the negotiations regarding the Basic Agreement with the players in 1969 and 1972, Carlton’s holdout in 1970 and 1972, as well as the four other players who were holdouts in 1972 were all part of Mr. Busch’s state of mind when he demanded my trade.<
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“What We Have Here Is a Failure to Communicate”
This wasn’t the last time I would deal with Bing. When I received my final Cardinals paycheck on April 15, I noticed a deduction for $77.87. I called Bing after joining Houston and asked about the deduction. “That was for your wife’s return airfare from Florida,” he told me. I responded, “Bing, I didn’t agree to that. It was you that agreed to airfare for both of us if I would come to St. Petersburg, work out with the team, and continue contract talks.” Bing replied, “Yes, that was before the strike.” I answered, “What does the strike have to do with it?”
Reading from the arbitration decision from 1972, Bing asserts that “it was his intention of having my wife return to St. Louis on a chartered aircraft which, had the strike not occurred, would have carried the team and others to St. Louis from Tampa. Issuance of the round trip ticket to Mrs. Reuss resulted, Mr. Devine states, from a failure on the part of his secretary or himself to communicate clearly to each other.”
Okay, that’s much the same as he told me. I answered him, “Bing, you agreed to round-trip transportation and sent a round-trip ticket. There was no qualifier in that conversation.” Bing, tired of the whole mess, said, “I don’t have time to argue about this. If you don’t like it, file a grievance.” So I filed a grievance. The arbitrator heard the case (remember, we’re talking about $77.87!) and sided with me.13
Who Really Knows?
To put another spin on the two deals, consider the potential economic impact. Let’s assume the two of us (or four of us) won enough games to produce some division championships and maybe a World Series or two during the 1970s and ‘80s. What would have happened to the Cardinals, the city of St. Louis, and the fortunes of Anheuser-Busch? How many more tickets would have been sold? What about an increase in sales of ballpark concessions? How about the possible increase of fees for the radio and television rights? How many top-notch free agents would have wanted to play for a winning Cardinal team when the mid-1970s rolled around? What kind of economic impact would division-winning Cardinal teams have had on the St. Louis area? How much would the winning teams have affected Anheuser-Busch’s bottom line?
