A Well-Paid Slave

by Brad Snyder

  Miller insisted that Flood not sign a contract containing the reserve clause. The layman in Miller feared that the Supreme Court would use Flood’s Senators contract as an excuse to declare the lawsuit moot. “In my mind’s eye, my mind’s ear, I could hear a Supreme Court justice asking Goldberg, ‘How do you explain this, Counsel?’ ” Miller recalled. “It was very practical.”

  Goldberg handed Short a two-page memo containing six modifications to the Uniform Player Contract with the following goals:• a no-cut clause

  • a no-trade clause

  • automatic free agency at the end of the contract

  • an agreement by the owners that the contract did not prejudice Flood’s lawsuit

  Short agreed to all their demands on the spot. He offered Flood a two-year contract worth $100,000 per season.

  As much as Flood loved the game, the real reason he decided to come back was the money. In addition to the back alimony and child support payments he owed to Beverly, the IRS was after him, he had two lawsuits pending against him and his corporation in St. Louis, and he had failed to start up his restaurant-bar and had no income while he was living in Copenhagen. He found it difficult to maintain the lifestyle of a ballplayer without a ballplayer’s salary. Taking on the reserve clause was breaking him mentally and financially. Short, who had built up $6 million in organizational debt as the treasurer of the Democratic National Committee and piled up debt as the owner of the Senators, promised to help Flood get his own personal finances in order. Two $100,000 annual salaries would definitely help.

  Three hours after the meeting, Short returned to the apartment with bad news about their deal: “Commissioner Kuhn will not permit it.” No one had ever modified the Uniform Player Contract. The commissioner’s office was not going to allow Flood to set a precedent by signing a contract without the reserve clause. The only thing that Sandy Hadden, Kuhn’s counsel, agreed to was a statement that signing the Uniform Player Contract would not prejudice Flood’s lawsuit.

  Kuhn had already turned Short’s quest for a face into a farce. Under Kuhn’s watch, Short and Quinn had violated at least two major league rules. First, trading for the right to negotiate with another player broke the rule against tampering with a player on another team. Technically, Flood was still on the restricted list. And even if Kuhn removed him from the list, Flood was still the property of the Phillies. Short was not allowed to negotiate with a player who was owned by another team. Second, Short had offered to give Quinn the right to use the Senators’ first-round draft pick if Flood signed. Although trading draft picks was a common practice in pro football, baseball forbade it. Kuhn was determined not to allow Flood to flout any more of baseball’s laws—especially the reserve clause.

  Miller balked at Short’s news. “Then there’s no deal,” Miller declared. He advised Flood to break off negotiations until Short had written permission to make a deal. The negotiations, however, continued. “In effect, you might say that I was overruled,” Miller said. “Everything went on as if it hadn’t happened.”

  The commissioner’s ruling, Short said, was irrelevant. “If you think about it,” he said, “you’ll see that you’ve got everything you’ve asked for.” If Flood had a good year, Short argued, the Senators would want to resign him. If Flood hit .100, no team would want him even at a 20 percent cut of $80,000. Short said he had no intention of cutting or trading Flood. “Do you think I’m going through all this to trade him?” Short asked. “I’d have to be an idiot.”

  At one point during Goldberg’s explanation of why he and Miller wanted the no-cut, no-trade language in writing, Short said: “Well, I understand, and these are all good points and we’re going to do everything possible to make sure that the boy is comfortable.” Miller looked at Flood for a reaction to being called a “boy.” Flood just winked at him. He had been through too much to let such racial slights unnerve him.

  Short’s financial terms showed how much he wanted Flood in Washington. He orally agreed not to cut or trade Flood and to make him a free agent at the end of the season. “And if anybody says that I agreed to such an arrangement,” Short said, “I’ll deny it.” He also agreed to begin paying Flood as of November 1 (as opposed to when the season started) and to pay Flood’s entire salary if he stuck with the team past June 15. Finally, at Goldberg’s suggestion, Short increased the amount of the one-year contract offer to $110,000. Only the amount of the salary was in writing. Flood said he would think it over.

  Kuhn approved Short’s $110,000 offer and the accompanying statement that neither Flood nor the owners believed that the contract prejudiced his lawsuit. He even met with Goldberg to discuss the issue. Any other oral agreements, Kuhn said, were not legally enforceable. But they did not have to be if Short kept his word. The Senators owner subverted the power of the reserve clause and the power of the commissioner by promising Flood his freedom.

  A few days after making his pitch to Flood, Short met in Philadelphia with Quinn. They spent four and a half hours talking on the phone with Kuhn and haggling over players. “You’re going to have to make a deal,” Kuhn told Quinn. Short and Quinn eventually agreed on compensation for Flood: Goossen and two minor leaguers, first baseman- outfielder Gene Martin, and pitcher Jeff Terpko. The Phillies had the right to return Terpko, which they did later that season. Instead, they selected the Senators’ first-round draft choice in 1971, pitcher Roger Quiroga, whom Short had signed for a $60,000 bonus. Flood, therefore, ended up costing Short $170,000.

  After making his deal with Quinn, Short flew back to New York to have lunch with Flood. During lunch, Flood excused himself from the table and made one last phone call to Marvin Miller.

  “You’re not going to think I’m running out on the case?” Flood asked.

  “Of course not,” Miller said.

  “I wouldn’t do this if I weren’t in a financial bind,” Flood explained.

  Flood returned to the table and told Short, “I’ll do it.”

  Flood’s signing with the Senators was a victory of sorts. Yes, he signed a contract containing the reserve clause, but all he had sought in his initial letter to Kuhn was the right to negotiate with the team of his choice on his terms. He accomplished that goal by signing with a team besides the Phillies and for more money.

  But he had undoubtedly hurt his case. It did not matter that the owners had signed a document stating that Flood’s contract with the Senators did not prejudice his lawsuit. The urgency of his situation was gone. He was no longer sitting out to protest the injustice of the reserve clause. With Flood in a Senators uniform, his lawsuit appeared more hypothetical than real.

  Some of Flood’s fellow players, at least the ones who claimed to be supporting him, felt he had let them down. At their winter meeting in Maui, the player representatives voiced frustration that he had jeopardized his lawsuit for a six-figure payday. Miller explained Flood’s financial problems. He also reassured the player representatives that Flood’s lawsuit was still going forward as scheduled and that Flood was keeping his promise about seeing his lawsuit through to the end. “The Players Association is still very much in Flood’s corner,” Miller told the press.

  After returning to Denmark for a week to pack up all his possessions and to put his restaurant plans on hold, Flood flew back to America. He saw a few people who appeared to be waiting for him in New York as he passed through customs. He thought it was because he had lost his medical records about his vaccinations. Then he thought he might be on “a list of all the notorious characters entering the country.” Instead, a Mets fan wished him a successful comeback.

  On November 14, Flood’s comeback began at the Senators’ winter instructional league camp in St. Petersburg, Florida. His goal was to get back into baseball shape. “Baseball,” he said, “is like sex. You don’t forget overnight.” It sounded good, but Flood had not hit a baseball or put on a uniform in more than a year. By the time the 1971 season started, it would be a year and a half since he had played in an official
major league game. He had spent his layoff “bedding and boozing” and claimed to have stayed in shape “by chasing those Danish girls.”

  Flood pointed to Muhammad Ali, who had knocked out Jerry Quarry in three rounds on October 26 after a 43-month layoff, as proof that he could come back. But Ali was only 28. And, as he revealed in his 15-round loss to Joe Frazier the following March, a different Ali returned than the one the boxing world had seen before.

  It would be a different Flood as well. He turned 33 on January 18. He told the press his goal was to reach 200 hits in 1971, but it had been seven years since his last 200-hit campaign and three years since his last .300 season. He felt the pressure of living up to his past glory with the Cardinals. “I feel like I’m under this huge microscope, and they’re all watching to see what I can do,” he said.

  The Senators tried to make Flood as comfortable as possible in St. Petersburg. He was given two days to acclimate himself before having to take the field. When he did, he was greeted by an old Cardinals catcher turned Senators coach, Del Wilber. Another Senators coach, George Susce, ran Flood through the lightest of 45-minute workouts. After changing into uniform number 51 between rookie pitchers Mike Thompson and George Boseker, he started with a few push-ups, sit-ups, deep knee bends, and calisthenics. Susce then lobbed him about 50 pitches of batting practice. After some light running and throwing in the outfield, the workout was over. Washington Post sportswriter William Gildea, who watched that first workout, was amazed by its brevity and laxity. “There was nothing to it,” Gildea recalled. “It suggested to me that he was not in shape.” Despite its ease, the first workout left Flood breathing hard.

  Day two at the Mets’ Payson Field was more of the same—soft tosses from Susce. “God, was I glad it was Susce out there and not Bob Gibson,” Flood said. The workouts left him “stiff and sore.”

  Newspaper and television reporters swarmed around Flood’s locker after each workout. They made it difficult for rookie pitcher Mike Thompson to get to his neighboring locker. The Senators brought in their public relations director, Burt Hawkins, to help Flood juggle the interview requests, but Flood displayed little patience with the media. He turned down interviews with three Florida television stations. He was kinder to the Washington press corps. He spoke with Gildea for a two-part series in the Washington Post. He opened up to the Washington Star’s Russ White over dinner at Bern’s Steak House in Tampa. But, in a telephone interview with Washington Daily News reporter Charlie Rayman, he asked: “Are you writing all of this down?” When the answer was yes, Flood retorted, “Don’t misquote me, or I’ll sue you.”

  Flood spent his three or four days in St. Petersburg in familiar surroundings. He stayed in room 23 of the Sheraton Outrigger, the same hotel the Cardinals had moved into after integrating their spring training facilities. He also read the galley proofs of his book. He promised the D.C. sporting press that it would be “a rather angry book.” “I’m concerned about principles,” he said. “A lot of people don’t understand how you can make a lot of money and complain.”

  Short formally introduced Flood to the Washington media during a November 24 press conference at RFK Stadium. Flood had visited the nation’s capital only one other time “for a few hours” at the end of spring training in 1957 with the Reds. There had been snow on the ground that day. Before the Reds moved on to play in Baltimore, they had sent Flood down to Savannah for his second season of segregated southern minor league hell.

  Flood returned to Washington a well-paid, yet controversial, star. He wore a conservative double-breasted suit and dark tie and spoke softly. Three Senators teammates, Bernie Allen, Tim Cullen, and popular slugger Frank Howard, sat in the audience. After the press conference, they posed for a photograph with their new teammate.

  Senators manager Ted Williams, who was driving from New Hampshire to the Florida Keys, was conspicuously absent. Williams claimed to have been unaware of the press conference and spent the night in a South Carolina motel. Despite all his positive public statements, Williams had warned Short and team vice president Joe Burke not to sign Flood. He was already furious with Short for trading away the left side of his infield for McLain. “Short’s a star fucker,” Williams bellowed to his friend, radio man Shelby Whitfield. “It’s another McLain deal.”

  The press asked Flood repeated questions about his lawsuit. “I just want a chance to play again,” he said. “I haven’t changed my philosophy. Sometimes you have to do things that aren’t tasteful.” The reporters asked him if he had anything against Philadelphia. No. They asked if he would have brought the lawsuit if he had not been traded. Maybe. “A trade doesn’t affect you until you’re moved against your will,” he said. “I have been told that my choice of words wasn’t accurate when I said I was a ‘slave.’ But I think a slave is a slave if he is bought and sold outright. I believe a man should have the option to control his career at some point in his career.” Flood knew that he would have to deal with questions about his lawsuit all season, but he didn’t like it one bit. “I can’t think of any question that I haven’t been asked,” he said.

  A reporter unwittingly brought up another sore subject.

  “How good a painter are you?” the reporter asked.

  “I don’t know how good I am, but my work sells,” Flood replied. A few days earlier, he had claimed not to have found any free time to paint since his retirement.

  With that, Flood returned to California to relax and to escape unwanted media attention. He lived for much of that winter in Los Angeles with Judy Pace, and he had no plans to return to Denmark. “Right now I feel like a vagabond,” he said. “Everything I own has handles on it.” His next move was to find an apartment in Washington. “Of course America is a nice place to live,” he told the reporters in Washington. “It doesn’t take Bob Short to convince me of that.” But in America, the press would not leave him alone.

  In January 1971, Flood returned to the public eye. He appeared January 18 at the annual dinner of the Washington chapter of the Base-ball Writers’ Association of America at Washington’s Shoreham Hotel. The three men who were named as defendants in his lawsuit also attended: Kuhn, Cronin, and Feeney. Flood sat at the head table with Short, McLain, Jim Bouton, Jimmy Breslin, and the outspoken wife of the U.S. attorney general, Martha Mitchell. Ted Williams skipped the dinner, showing up Short by appearing the next night at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in New York City at a Save-the-Salmon dinner.

  Even in absentia, Short, Williams, and Flood served as featured attractions at the New York baseball writers’ 1,400-person dinner January 31 at Manhattan’s Americana Hotel. The New York writers put on their annual comedy show and in their “chief masquerade” mocked Short’s collection of faces on the Senators. Maury Allen of the Post played Flood, with Louis Effrat of the Times as Kuhn, Dick Young of the Daily News as McLain, and John Drebinger of the Times as Williams. Allen, as Flood, singing to the tune “There Is Nothing Like a Dame,” lamented:

  I got Denmark in the winter

  I got Florida in the spring

  I got lots of lovely lassies with whom

  I always sing

  I got hordes and hordes of lawyers

  And a Goldberg you must know

  What ain’t I got?

  Reserve clause dough!

  The show ended with the writers predicting to the baseball officials in attendance: “We know this year will be a thriller, courtesy of Marvin Miller.”

  A few days before the New York chapter’s dinner, Flood attended a much more serious theatrical event in Manhattan—the January 27 oral argument of his case before a three-judge panel at the United States Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit.

  The Second Circuit appeal was even more of a formality for Flood than the trial. The last step before taking his case to the Supreme Court, the Second Circuit did not review the trial court’s factual findings; it only determined whether Judge Cooper had followed the law.

  Another recent Second Circuit decision about b
aseball foreclosed any possibility of its reversing Judge Cooper. Two former umpires, Al Salerno and Bill Valentine, claimed that AL president Joe Cronin had fired them for trying to unionize their fellow umps. Cronin contended that he had fired them for incompetence. Salerno and Valentine sued baseball in federal court in lower Manhattan. Salerno v. American League of Professional Baseball Clubs had been dismissed before trial on December 10, 1969, because of Toolson and the antitrust exemption.

  Before the appeals court’s decision, Salerno and Valentine passed up several opportunities to settle their case. Baseball offered to pay them $20,000 each, provide them annual salaries of $20,000, and, after brief minor league stints, reinstate them to the major leagues. Valentine wanted to accept the deal, but Salerno held out for $100,000. Neither ump was reinstated. They lost in a hearing before the National Labor Relations Board (NLRB) and on appeal to the Second Circuit.

  The Second Circuit’s decision in Salerno came down July 13, 1970— after Flood’s trial but before Judge Cooper’s decision. Salerno gave Cooper additional fodder for ruling against Flood because it represented controlling law in the circuit that baseball was immune from the anti-trust laws. Trial and appellate judges in the Second Circuit were bound by the appeals court’s decision in Salerno as well as by the Supreme Court’s decision in Toolson. Flood, therefore, was destined to lose in the Second Circuit at least two ways.

  Salerno, however, was not a total blow to Flood. Judge Henry Friendly, a very well-respected appeals court judge, wrote a short opinion for the three-judge panel that all but invited the Supreme Court to overrule Federal Baseball and Toolson. Friendly concluded: