Nellie on "Giving Back"

Nellie was always a firm believer in social justice and compassion. The Nellie King Fund, recently established by his daughters, will carry forth his efforts and writings on behalf of those who are struggling in our community.

Here's an indication of Nellie's views on social justice, taken from the introduction to his best-selling book, Happiness is Like a Cur Dog:

People who did not experience the Great Depression have no idea how difficult it was. There were no safety nets, no unemployment compensation, no medical or retirement benefits, and no social security. All you had was your job. My dad had always had steady work at the mine (when “steady” meant only two or three days a week). He was able to do something that so many others could not manage: put food on the table for his family. 

I remember men coming to our back door, asking if they could sweep the porches, rake leaves, or anything. They weren't looking for money to pay off credit cards. Struggling to survive from meal to meal, they only wanted a sandwich! 

Those who berate government assistance programs never experienced those terribly difficult years of want, fear, and humiliation. The benefits we now enjoy are taken for granted, as if they were always part of our lives. To use a baseball metaphor, too many people in this country have been born on third base, yet think they’ve hit triples! As a nation and people, we have become increasingly more arrogant and less tolerant of the less fortunate.

Image: Coal breaker-boys, anthracite coal region of Pennsylvania, 1930s. 

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.

Nellie's Interview on Baseball Digest Live

Nellie did a very colorful interview today on Baseball Digest Live.

You can hear the broadcast in the program's archives.


Thanks to Jay Ferraro for making this happen!

Labor-Management Relations in the B.C. ("Before Cash") Era of Major League Baseball

In an age when some Major League players earn millions of dollars a season, younger baseball fans know little about the "B.C." era of the game, when players counted themselves lucky to receive $40 a week. Those who played the game in the "Before Cash" era also lacked long-term pension plans or other economic "safety nets" unless they spent more than four years in the Major League.  Nellie was just such a player. Here he recounts his shock upon realizing how little power players had when he attended an MLB Players Association meeting in New York City in the fall of 1956.  

Happiness is Like a Cur Dog makes a great Christmas present for young and not-so-young fans of baseball and anyone who wishes to understand baseball's role in 20th century American history.

An Eye-Opening MLBPA Meeting

After the 1956 season, my wife Bernadette and I returned to Newark, NJ, where I found work at the Newark Star Ledger in the circulation department. In the early fall I received a phone call from Bob Friend, the Pirates’ player representative for the Major League Baseball Players Association (MLBPA). I was informed there was a MLBPA meeting in the offices of Norman Lewis on Park Avenue in Manhattan. Given my proximity to New York, he asked me to attend the meeting for him and take notes. I eagerly accepted.

Park Avenue was virgin territory for me. I was impressed with the tall buildings and luxurious surroundings. I went from being impressed to awed when I entered the offices of J. Norman Lewis, then the player’s representative, and was introduced to the other team representatives–Robin Roberts (Phillies), Sherman Lollar (White Sox)), Bob Nieman (Baltimore), Early Wynn (Cleveland), Roy Sievers (Washington), and others. With a long history in the game, I knew every player in the room. I can’t say they had the same knowledge of me, but it was exciting to be in their company and to be a part of their deliberations.

Robin Roberts, with the aid of Norman Lewis, handled the meeting before a scheduled visit by Commissioner Ford Frick. Lewis informed us that the commissioner could give us only 30 minutes of his time for the meeting, which raised some eyebrows. We wondered what could make him so busy after the World Series and end of the season. Lewis emphasized that we had better use the limited time wisely by choosing a few topics that were of most importance.

After some discussion, we agreed there were two specific subjects we wanted to address. First was the increase in television revenues from the All Star Game and World Series. We desired to have portions of the additional money allocated for funding the players’ pension plan. The second item was to include the wives and children as participants in the health care plan that at the time covered only the players. Sure of our decision, we awaited the commissioner.

Ford Frick arrived on time and was introduced by Norman Lewis to all the players. Following the introductions, Robin Roberts began the meeting by expressing our appreciation for the commissioner taking time to meet with us. Aware of the time limit, he informed Ford Frick there were only two items we want to seriously discuss with him.

Robin was very articulate in expressing our views about the need for additional money to  fund the pension plan given the increase in television rights and advertising revenue. As he turned to Frick for a comment we were surprised to hear the commissioner say, “Well, you know I can’t discuss such a proposal with you. You’ll have to take that up with the Owner’s Pension Fund committee.” That ended further discussion on that topic.

Robin quickly approached the subject of providing health insurance for the wives and children of major league players. Frick shot that down as quickly as he had the pension funding. He stated we would have to take that up with the Owners’ Committee.


Our two discussion items took up less than five minutes of his time, and both were shot down.

The conversation with the commissioner then turned to items so trivial they were embarrassing, but quickly caught the attention of Frick. Bob Nieman informed the commissioner of the background in center field at Baltimore that caused problems for hitters. He said, “There is a house painted in glowing white, located just to the left of center field. When a right-hander is pitching it makes it difficult for batters to pick up the pitch." I noticed the commissioner begin to take notes.

Someone followed with a complaint about the situation in Cleveland: no toilet was available for players in the bullpen. They had to go behind the bullpen, or walk back to the dugout to take care of these bodily functions. Frick continued taking notes.

A similar complaint was made about Kansas City, then a relatively new team in the American League. There was no toilet in the bullpen, but also none in the dugout, so player had to go all the way back into the clubhouse to relieve themselves.

These discussions took up the remainder of the time. The commissioner put the pencil and paper away and before leaving told us how good is was to have a discussion with the Players’ Association. Norman Lewis then escorted Frick out of the office to the elevator. When he returned, his comments were brief but educational. 


“Gentlemen, you have just spent thirty minutes discussing your problems with the most powerful man in the game, the Commissioner of Baseball.” Pausing briefly, shaking his head in disbelief, he continued, “You know what he’s going to do for you? He’s going to change the background in Baltimore for hitters. He’s going to put a toilet in the bull pen in Cleveland and one in the dugout in Kansas City.”

Lewis summed up the futility of our situation, “Gentlemen” he began, “You think you have problems. And you do have serious problems: Nobody is listening to you!” Baseball then was a paternalistic system. The owners were the parents and we were the children and each party accepted their role.

Eventually, a man with experience, knowledge, fortitude, and a keen understanding of labor management problems became head of the Major League Baseball Players Association. That man was Marvin Miller, who, along with Curt Flood, forever changed the relationship between owners and players. 


Players no longer believe they need someone to take care of them when their career is over. Marvin Miller made them believe they had power. The motto became, “Take care of me now and I’ll be able to take care of myself later.”