Roanoke Rapids Daily Herald

Pegler Writes The Sad Tale Of Unions And Their Effect
On America's Great National Pastime In Overtime

By Westbrook Pegler
(Copyright, 1948, By King Features Syndicate, Inc.)
Maybe it is democracy, but, as far as I am concerned, you can give me the good old days without no overtime for extra innings.
We couldn't look better than we did that spring until they signed the contract with the International Brotherhood of Right-Fielders. We had pitching and power and we had an infield that was absolutely just practically an iron curtain until they signed that contract. I kept telling the boss to ignore them but the old man is funny so he said: "Well, I have tried everything from baby sitters for the effeminate customers on Ladies' Day to black robes on the umpires like the Supreme Court. So I am going to sign up with the International Brotherhood of Right-Fielders on account of the four freedoms."
There was quite a lot of complications before we got back to open the season, but they were practically nothing compared to the troubles when we really got settled down. The unions had signed up the Yankees and the Red Sox and Detroit, and some others and the scale called for time and one-half for extra innings.
The boys would get their heads together down around first base and when I came down yelling, "Break it up! Break it up!" we had a little squirt or a bum substitute in-fielder and he said to me: "Get back in your hole and mind your own business. We are having a council meeting."
I sent Wally Dumboe down to listen and he told me they were running a slowdown to get into extra innings for the overtime. We were going into the tenth nothing-nothing almost every day and everybody thought it was marvelous baseball the way the boys would go out practically in order the first nine innings.
Or if the other club got a run by accident, then they would kick one back to us the next time we hit.
I also often used to think it was funny when a fellow would tap one to the infield and I would hear the coach at first say, "Take it easy. Take it easy. Are you trying to kill the job?"
The sport writers went wild over the pitchers battles and I got an offer of $10,000 to write my secrets entitled "Inside inside baseball, by the master mind."
Finally Wally Dumboe was delegated to negotiate a little compromise. The regular contract called for a game-and-a-half's pay over nine innings, so they were just stalling for the first nine innings. Then they would start to level and usually settle it in the tenth or eleventh.
We compromised so all ball-games started in the tenth. I said this was ridiculous, but they said every laundry starts numbering the wagons at No. 10 and we were just reactionary.
The first inning is the tenth, and they just get a 50 per cent hoist in pay, is all it amounts to.
But that was when they pulled the jurisdictional strike, over the Ted Williams shift. Everybody was shifting right for Williams so the Rightfielders' Brotherhood had practically a monopoly with this guy always hitting to right. They upped the price to $350 per flyball, straight time. But that came to $525 with overtime under the new agreement and $700 at double time just to catch a crummy little pop fly in the night games or Sundays or holidays. That was ruining us and I got so when Williams would pop one I would run down there yelling "Don't catch it! We can't afford to catch the guy out, so leave him go and try for the double-play."
So the center fielders got jealous and they offered to do it for $300, straight time. And the left-fielders for $250, and the first thing we knew there was pickets all over the outfield with signs like "this scab ball-club unfair to right-fielders," and "our babies are starving. International Brotherhood of Right-Fielders." I always say that was when baseball really began to go to pieces.