by Brad Snyder
Free agency, despite the yearnings of some sentimentalists, has been good for baseball. Competitive balance has improved. The Yankees, Cardinals, or Dodgers do not win the pennant every year. Nine different teams won the World Series during the 1980s, six different teams won during the 1990s (with no winner in 1994), and six different teams won from 2000 to 2005. Attendance has increased dramatically. Television revenue has soared. Free-agent signings have only heightened fan interest during the winter months. Players shift teams no more now than they did before free agency. The difference is that the players of today do not always change teams because they have to, but because they want to.
Flood cannot be blamed for the real source of the average fan’s discontent: the players’ skyrocketing salaries. The average major league salary has increased from $29,303 in 1970 to $371,571 in 1985 to $2,632,655 in 2005. The largest free-agent contract of 25 years ago, Dave Winfield’s 10-year deal eventually worth $18 million, pales in comparison to Alex Rodriguez’s 10-year, $252 million contract. Flood, however, would have applauded Rodriguez’s riches. He understood that the players’ salaries are the outgrowth of America’s obsession with celebrity and entertainment. “Sylvester Stallone got $30 million for Rocky II. He said 30 words you could understand in the whole movie. Nobody seems to mind that,” Flood said in 1989. “But does Sylvester Stallone do more relevant things than Roger Clemens? Isn’t baseball show business?” Flood also recognized that the owners have no more right to the almighty entertainment dollar in sports than the players. “If the owners put a cap on their own salaries, then we’ll agree to put a cap on our salaries,” Flood said before the 1994 strike. “If George Steinbrenner— particularly George Steinbrenner—has a cap, then we’ll all have a cap.” After more than three decades of fighting free agency tooth and nail, the owners finally seem to be at peace with paying the players what they are worth. The owners’ only lingering issue is how to divide baseball’s enormous revenues among themselves.
Curt Flood’s lawsuit was about an idea much more basic in our society than free agency in baseball—it was about the freedom to choose where to work. He helped destroy the myth of employer or employee loyalty. The boss will reassign you, fire you, or lay you off in a heartbeat if it will help the bottom line. The days when people worked for the same company or even in the same occupation for their entire lives are long gone. People are always on the lookout for a better job or a better deal. “We may not want to admit it, but there’s a little Curt Flood in all of us,” Houston Chronicle business columnist Loren Steffy wrote during the 2005 World Series. “If baseball is an analogy for life, then we have become a society of free agents.”
Flood was willing to sacrifice his playing career, his earning power, and his future in the game, all for a lawsuit that he knew was going to benefit only future generations of professional athletes, because freedom meant more to him than money or fame. Segregation and discrimination imbued Flood and other black athletes of his generation with a heightened sensitivity to injustice. As Flood often said, he came of age during the civil rights movement. The money in professional sports at the time was not so great as to prevent him from standing up for his principles. His life and lawsuit amounted to more than collecting a paycheck; they were about personal freedom. “What about freedom makes us march and picket and sometimes die?” Flood said in 1980. “It is the right to choose. To me, freedom means simply I belong to me.”
Flood paid a terrible price for taking on the establishment and served as a cautionary tale for the modern professional athletes whom he helped enrich. Michael Jordan, Derek Jeter, and LeBron James could never have obtained their multimillion-dollar salaries and endorsement deals without the right to sell their services to the highest bidders. Yet they depend so much on corporate America that political or social activism would be career suicide. Speaking out is not part of the equation. As Jordan reportedly told a friend who asked him to campaign in his home state of North Carolina against Republican senator Jesse Helms, “Republicans buy shoes, too.”
Jackie Robinson, a black man who often voted Republican, started it all. Of everything Flood had accomplished in baseball, nothing gave him more joy than standing on first base at Ebbets Field on September 16, 1956, two bases away from his hero, appearing at a 1962 NAACP rally with him in Mississippi, and watching Robinson testify on his behalf at his trial. It pained Flood that many modern players had no idea who Robinson was.
Even fewer of today’s athletes know the name Curt Flood. Sport magazine asked 10 major leaguers in 1994 about what Curt Flood meant to them; only a few recognized his name. If Yankees manager Joe Torre senses his players’ taking the game for granted, he tells them about Flood. “I just want players to understand the reason that they’re doing pretty well and they have a lot of rights and that’s because of what Curt Flood gave up,” Torre said. Outspoken former NBA star Charles Barkley has tried to make Flood’s name resonate with the next generation of professional athletes. “How can anybody drawing a paycheck in sports today not know about Curt Flood?” Barkley wrote. “How did his contributions get so overlooked? Athletes had no say in where they played until Curt Flood stood up and refused to be traded.” In 1999, Time magazine named Flood “one of the ten most influential athletes of the century.”
Robinson and Flood took professional athletes on an incredible journey—from racial desegregation to well-paid slavery to being free and extremely well paid. Robinson started the revolution by putting on a uniform.Flood finished it by taking his uniform off. Robinson fought for racial justice. Flood fought the less-sympathetic fight for economic justice. They never stopped fighting for freedom. The struggle took years off their lives. Neither man lived into his 60s. Curt Flood dedicated his life to making Jackie Robinson proud.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Some people thought I was crazy when I quit my job practicing law at a prominent Washington, D.C., firm to write this book. I had no book deal and no agent. A lawyer advised me that I would be labeled a dilettante. My friends teased me that I needed to get a real job. Maybe they were both right, but I have never regretted my decision to write full-time and to tell the story of Curt Flood and his lawsuit.
My acknowledgments may seem longer and more tedious than Justice Blackmun’s list of baseball greats in his Flood v. Kuhn opinion, but many people deserve credit for helping me with this project. All the book’s errors and omissions are entirely my own.
I am indebted to all the people who agreed to be interviewed for this book. Almost all of the interviewees are listed in my bibliography, but a few people (usually former Supreme Court law clerks) did not want their names mentioned. I learned so much from all of you and appreciate your time, insights, and patience. Some people have put up with multiple interviews, phone calls, and e-mails. In this regard, Sam Bercovich, Herman Flood, Lou Hoynes, Marvin Miller, Iola “Rickie” Riley, Jay Topkis, and Allan Zerman deserve special mention. I am also grateful to Judy Pace Flood for agreeing to speak with me despite her desire to write a book about her late husband.
Equally important are people whose names do not show up in either the text or bibliography but who facilitated many of my interviews and research requests.
The following people helped me from Major League Baseball: Rick Cerrone and Stephanie Hall of the New York Yankees, John Dever and Lars Thorn of the Washington Nationals, Lorrie Platt of the Cincinnati Reds, Greg Rhodes of the Cincinnati Reds Museum, Larry Shenk of the Philadelphia Phillies, Bill Stetka of the Baltimore Orioles, Melody Yount and Mark Murray of the St. Louis Cardinals, and Larry Baer of the San Francisco Giants.
Many others in academia, law, journalism, and government also helped me with source material. The following people provided me with documents, unpublished manuscripts, phone numbers of sources, access to newspaper archives, videotapes, or simply their professional expertise: Bruce Adelson, Perry Apelbaum, Joel Boyd, Ken Burns, Joe Camacho, Lou Charlip, Greg Chernack, Stacey Dansky, Ross Davies, Roscoe Dellums, Gerald Early, Ezra Ed
elman, John Erardi, Chet Fenster, Ron Fimrite, Janet Frankston, Bill Gallo, David Garrow, Abbe Gluck, Jerry Goldman, Peter Golenbock, Teddy Greenstein, Tom Holster, Rick Hummel, Dennis Hutchinson, Roger “Mud” Kaplan, Bob Kheel, Barry Klein, Chuck Korr, David Lipman, John Lowe, Brent McIntosh, Dave McKenna, David Maraniss, Bill Mead, Leigh Montville, Craig Mortali, Dave Newhouse, Erika Peterman, Gary Poole, Josh Prager, Marty Price, Arnold Rampersad, Bob Ridlon, Bob Rose, Mike Rosenberg, Tom Shakow, Eric Shumsley, Harold Spaeth, Susanna Steisel, Joe Strauss, Michael Sundermeyer, John Thorn, Jack Vardaman, Peter Wallsten, Matt Waxman, George Will (and his assistant Sarah Moeschler), Phil Wood, and Richard Zamoff.
A special thanks to David Hardy, Richard Huff, Wanda Hunt, and Priscilla Jones of the Office of Information and Privacy at the Federal Bureau of Investigation; and Charlotte Duckett, Margaret Grafield, Lori Hartmann, Francis Terry McNamara, and Katrina Wood of the Office of Information Programs and Services at the State Department.
Archivists and librarians around the country tracked down articles and documents for me and guided me to research collections I never would have found without their assistance. In that regard, I’d like to thank the following people and institutions: Jeff Flannery, Ernie Em-rich, Patrick Kerwin, Joseph Jackson, and Michael Spangler at the Library of Congress Manuscript Division; the law library and newspaper and microfilm staffs at the Library of Congress; Shannon Boyd, Bonita Carter, Shirley Ito, Michael Salmon, and Wayne Wilson at the Amateur Athletic Foundation of Los Angeles library; Steve Gietschier of the Sporting News; Gabriel Schechter at the National Baseball Hall of Fame Library; John Esquivel at the Alameda Times-Star; Alice Wertheim at the Atlanta Journal-Constitution; Paul McCardell and Jean Packard at the Baltimore Sun; Deborah Bade at the Chicago Tribune; Michael Panzer at the Philadelphia Inquirer and Daily News; Matthew Fernandez at the St. Louis Post-Dispatch; Charles Brown at the St. Louis Mercantile Library; John Martin at the St. Petersburg Times; Judy Canter at the San Francisco Chronicle; the staff at the King Center; Laura Harmon at the LBJ Library; John Jacob of the Lewis F. Powell Jr. Archives at Washington & Lee University School of Law; Steve Lavoie of the Oakland Public Library; Robert Ellis, Greg Plunges, Marvin Russell, Steve Tilly, and John Vernon at the National Archives; Bill Marshall and Jeff Suchanek at the University of Kentucky; Steve Kinsey at Morgan State University library; Marge McNinch at the Hagley Museum & Library; Diane Kaplan and her staff at the Yale University Manuscript & Archives; the U.S. Supreme Court library staff; the Newspaper and Microfilm Center at the Philadelphia Free Library; Randy Gue and Susan McDonald in the special collections division of Emory University’s Woodruff Library; Gail Malmgreen and the staff at the Robert F. Wagner Labor Archives at New York University; Jennifer Burns at the High Point Museum.
In my humble opinion, Dave Kelly at the Library of Congress is the world’s greatest librarian. He knows a ton about sports, music, history, politics, and everything else in between. He always responds to my research questions, even the stupid ones and sometimes ones I have already asked him. During the last few years, he has become not only one of my best sources of information and inspiration but also a trusted friend. Thanks, Dave.
Another good friend (and my favorite law firm librarian), Caitlin Lietzan, provided me with invaluable suggestions, professional expertise, and encouragement.
The following people lent me photographs out of the goodness of their hearts: Marge Brans, John Engels, Buddy Gilbert, Marian Jorgensen, and Allan Zerman. Others facilitated the use of images from their respective institutions: Kim Apley at Corbis, Pat Kelly and Bill Burdick at the National Baseball Hall of Fame Library, John Keller and Bruce Lindsey at the William J. Clinton Presidential Library, Trish Murphy and Camilla Zenz at Zuma Press, Richard Anastasio at Sports Illustrated, and Marilyn Rader at AP/World Wide Photos.
Many friends opened their homes and apartments to me, some of them on multiple occasions and for days at a time: Phil and Sandy Brooks, Jan Ewald and John Thompson, David and Katherine Fierson, Charles Katz, Peggy Krendl, Cade and Taylor Metz, Peter and Kate Ocko, Darren Reisberg, Clara Shin, and Dan and Wendy Stein. I hope I was not the world’s worst house guest. Your words of encouragement meant as much to me as your hospitality.
Other friends did not contribute a single thing to this book other than listening to me complain about some aspect of it. You know who you are. I’m not going to try to list everyone.
I cannot begin to thank the following people who read all or part of this manuscript prior to publication: Flip Brophy, Richard Ben Cramer, Lou Hoynes, Ben Kerschberg, Chris Klatell, Anthony Lewis, Kevin McDonald, Marvin (and Terry) Miller, John Thompson, Jay Topkis, and Jules Tygiel. Some of you spent hours giving me comments about the manuscript. Others responded to my panicked phone calls with words of wisdom. I hope I can return the favor to you some day.
Extra special thanks go to Andy Knobel, the deputy copy chief at the Baltimore Sun sports department and my official safety net. Andy has fact-checked both of my books, and he has saved me from more embarrassing errors than anyone will ever know. Andy’s fertile baseball mind made this a better book.
My editors at Viking, Wendy Wolf and Cliff Corcoran, made this book a reality. I am indebted to Wendy for buying this book. She had a clear vision for the book and lent her experience and wisdom at critical junctures. Cliff is everything a great editor should be: meticulous, opinionated, and dedicated as hell. He read this book multiple times and each time attacked the book’s weaknesses through his comments and suggestions. Cliff edited this book as if it were his own; he helped me take it to another level. I really appreciate his pushing and prodding and admire him greatly. He is also one of the nicest Yankees fans I have ever met.
Others deserving of thanks include copy editor Adam Goldberger, production editor Sharon Gonzalez, designers Daniel Lagin and Jesse Reyes, and publicist Shannon Twomey. Roy Jacobs and John Pelosi also provided valuable legal expertise.
I would be remiss if I did not thank many longtime mentors and unofficial advisers, including the following current and former Baltimore Sun sportswriters: John Eisenberg, Mark Hyman, Paul McMullen, Buster Olney, Ken Rosenthal, and Peter Schmuck.
John Feinstein has been giving me great career advice since I was a 17-year-old kid; his words of wisdom spurred me to write this book sooner rather than later. Paul Dickson also gave me advice and encouragement along the way, as did his friend George Gibson of Walker & Company.
It is rare that meeting one of your literary heroes becomes a life-changing event. I first met author Richard Ben Cramer when I was a young reporter covering the Orioles and he was writing a Sports Illustrated profile on Cal Ripken Jr. Ten years later, a chance encounter with Richard at a book signing at the Smithsonian changed the course of my life. He thought it was “unacceptable” that I had no publisher and no agent for my Curt Flood book. Since then, Richard has done everything in his power to help me succeed. I’ll never be able to repay him for his kindness and generosity.
Because of Richard, I now have the world’s greatest agent, Flip Brophy. Her enthusiasm for this project has made everything possible. She has kept me from becoming a truly starving artist, she has fought for me at every turn, and she cares about how each decision affects my career. I tell people that Flip is like my guardian angel. Every day I count my blessings that I have her in my corner.
Flip’s assistants, Cia Glover and Sharon Skettini, deserve special mention for fielding my annoying phone calls, responding to some of my more foolish requests, and treating me like a somebody.
I often tell people that when I quit my job as a lawyer, my parents wondered where they had gone wrong in life. In truth, it did not matter whether they agreed with my decision. Their belief in me has been unwavering. I hope they realize how much their love and friendship have meant to me. They have influenced me as much as anyone. I hope I can continue to make them proud.
My brother Ivan and his wife Tamara also have been sources of emotional support and comic relief. On a week
ly basis, my brother would call me and ask: “Is the book done yet?” I can finally say, yes, Ivan, it is.
Finally, I’d like to thank Curt Flood. I never had the chance to meet Curt or even speak to him on the phone, but my admiration for him runs deep. His guts and courage made me want to write this book. I hope I have done his story justice.
NOTES
KEY
CHAPTER ONE
Page
1 at 4 a.m.: Herman Flood Jr. interview. There is some dispute as to whether Flood first heard about the trade from a newspaper reporter or from Toomey. Curt’s oldest brother, Herman, who was living with Flood in St. Louis at the time, distinctly recalls Curt being woken up by a baseball writer. “Herm,” Curt said after waking up his brother, “I’ve just been traded.” Ibid. Marvin Miller also said that a newspaper reporter contacted Flood first. Marvin Miller interview; Miller, A Whole Different Ball Game, 172. Finally, in an interview with Ken Burns, Flood confirmed that a “sportswriter” called him first, then Toomey. Burns/Flood Transcript, 8-9. A sportswriter could have called him first. The St. Louis Post-Dispatch was an afternoon paper with early-morning deadlines. It ran a brief, unsigned article on the day of the trade. SPD, 10/8/69, 4E. Post-Dispatch sports columnist Bob Broeg was a close friend of Cardinals general manager Bing Devine and was probably the first reporter to learn about the trade. Broeg, however, did not remember calling Flood. Bob Broeg interview. And the sportswriter closest to Flood was Jack Herman of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
