Thanks to Gene Collier of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette!

Thursday, June 09, 2011


No royal treatment for King's family


By Gene Collier, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette


In this, the first full summer without being able to talk about life and baseball with her father, Amy King still moves confidently in that somehow hollowed out world.


It's a hurting place, an empty place, sometimes, but he has been gone since August and now again she thrives, more because of him than in spite of him.


"He was such a survivor," Nellie King's youngest daughter said over coffee Wednesday. "He always said, 'Make the best of whatever life gives you,' and he was the master of that. I know it's my destiny now to be the caretaker to my mother, but I just think, 'What would he do?' -- and that would be to say, 'OK, let's go, here's what has to be done.'


"It's been transformative."


For a time, Nellie King survived pneumonia, colon cancer and Parkinson's disease, all of which I guess wasn't terribly surprising from a guy who had survived traveling with the late Bob Prince.


But the timing of Nellie's Aug. 11, 2010, death was little short of a pity. It came eight months and 10 days before baseball commissioner Bud Selig stepped to a microphone in New York and announced a decades-overdue player benefit that substantially would have lightened the financial burden of those sickened final years for King, his seriously ill widow, and the three grown daughters whose hearts ached as they watched.


"Sometimes in life, it's just the right thing to do," Selig said that day in April. "I believe baseball is a social institution, and with that comes social responsibilities."


I believe he believes that, but baseball took forever to act on that belief, at least when it comes to players of King's era, players who never drew a pension even as the game's profit margins and salaries grew to obscene levels.


"It's better than nothing, but, in my estimation, it's a partial victory," said Doug Gladstone, whose book, "A Bitter Cup of Coffee" doubtless helped bring about the April announcement. "They announced with great fanfare that all these men who still are not vested, we're going to cut you checks for up to $10,000 for two years contingent upon your service. It's better than nothing, but it's not a real pension. It doesn't provide health-insurance coverage, nor will any player's spouse or loved one receive a designated benefit after the player passes.


"You can call it a guilt payment or reparations or what have you. But the foot-dragging for 31 years -- you didn't do anything about this? It's like telling the Nellie King family, look, he died at an inconvenient time for us. He should have stayed alive for this."


Gladstone there refers to 1980, when Major League Baseball was trying to steer away from a looming strike that would close the game for two months the following summer anyway. Baseball offered to lower the vesting requirement to 43 days for pensions and one game for health benefits. Prior to that, players were vested only after four years of service. King played parts of four seasons for the Pirates, but did not qualify. Some 900 players were in the same abandoned boat. The union happily accepted the new pension requirement when the 1981 strike ended, but no one on either side, not before or since (until April), had the courage or the political skill to make the benefits retroactive.


"Here's Major League Baseball, with all these guys making all these big salaries -- you know they could have paid it," Amy said without anger. "That's a leadership issue. More practically, it's a health-care issue. Most of those guys had families."


Players in King's situation brought suit against baseball in 2004 and lost, and Selig was quick to point out in this go-around that baseball was under no legal obligation to pay these guys anything.


It's puzzling because baseball has for some time now made good faith attempts to be magnanimous with former players, even to the extent of providing benefits for veterans of the Negro Leagues, none of whom Major League Baseball even employed.


Modern players don't have to worry. They're vested just about as soon as they show up.


"My position is, in all my travels, I get the sense that the union didn't tell contemporary players about these guys. Either [former MLPA chief Donald] Fehr and [Marvin] Miller [Fehr's predecessor] didn't tell them, or they told them and they don't care. Players like Nellie King helped grow the game. They allowed these salaries to occur."


The mid-'50s Pirates teams for whom King pitched would seem almost like an historical abstraction for someone like Amy King, except that her father was always so much a part of the Pirates family.


"He was so proud of that," she said, "even knowing all this stuff. He was one of the most cherished members of the Pirates Alumni. I mean, they fired the man [along with Prince from the broadcast crew in 1975], but he always loved them. You can't beat the loyalty out of some people."


Uh-huh. And, when you talk with Amy King, you realize you can't beat the dignity out of some, either.

Radio Tributes to Nellie King

Radio listeners call in to 93.7 FM The FAN - Pittsburgh Sports Radio to share their memories of Nellie King soon after his death was announced on August 11, 2010.

Remembering Roberto Clemente's 3,000th (and Final) Hit

Amy King writes:

When Nellie asked Roberto Clemente in a June 28, 1970 interview "How many years do you want to play baseball in the major leagues?", Roberto prophetically replied, "I’m a very funny person because I think that I would like to play as long as I can help the ball club. Sometime, like last year, I played with a very bad left shoulder and it was very tough for me. I don’t want to play like that because I hurt myself, I hurt the fans and I hurt the Pittsburgh organization. 

"I would like to play until I get to 3,000 hits. I think that is something not too may fellows accomplished in the past and not too many are going to accomplish in the future either. So I would like to play until I get 3,000 hits."

38 years ago today on September 30th, 1972 Nellie King was set to announce the 4th inning when he graciously handed over the microphone to long time partner Bob Prince so he could go down in history calling Roberto's 3,000th hit... which ended up being his last.

Now that's class, sports fans...

Bob Prince, “The Gunner”

No history of Pirates baseball could be written without lauding Bob Prince, “the Voice of the Pirates,” or, as he was also known, “the Gunner.” No one dominated Pirates baseball more than this larger-than-life Pittsburgh media personality. The son of a career U.S. Army officer, Bob was widely traveled and worldly wise even in his teen years. He studied law, attending Harvard, Oklahoma, and Stanford with limited success, confessing he loved the social scene much more than books. Jack Henry, a Pittsburgh raconteur, described Prince’s college resume best: “Bob Prince’s diploma has more fingerprints on it than Elizabeth Taylor’s ass!” 

Everyone will agree that his talents would have been wasted in a courtroom. He was made for radio and baseball. I was fortunate to spend nine years working beside him. Our relationship, like the roller coaster ride at Kennywood Park, was all ups and downs, but never dull.

Prince gave the word “personality” a distinctiveness rarely seen in those days. He wore wild, flashy sports coats and a demeanor to match. You always knew when Bob was in the room. During his broadcasts you had no problem figuring out whether the Pirates were winning or losing. You either loved him or hated him, but you listened. Prince was well aware of the mixed audience response. Once, as he was leaving the press room to begin a broadcast, he shouted out for all to hear, “Gotta go to the radio booth. Twenty thousand listeners are getting ready to turn me off.”

Bob started his Pirates broadcasting career in 1948 under the tutelage of Rosey Rosewell, who began doing Pirate broadcasts in 1936. In those early days, baseball radio broadcasts were not done live since the owners feared fan attendance (and revenues) would drop. How wrong they were; radio broadcasts actually created more fans. 

Games were “recreated” in a studio by using the information sent from the site of the game over the Western Union wire ticker tape. By using sound effects--and the listeners’ imaginations--announcers created the illusion of  broadcasting the game live from the ballpark. 

One of the great advantages of not being at the park was that it gave the announcer the freedom to control the flow of the game by staying a half or a full inning behind the game descriptions coming off the ticker tape. It became obligatory for announcers to fill the slow or dead periods in every game. The good announcers did this by telling stories while still keeping the listener involved in the flow of the game. Rosewell was a wonderful storyteller, on and off the air, and also wrote and published poems. 

Bob Prince did not write poetry, but was his equal or better as a storyteller and master of ceremonies....