Hard Work

The demolition of Trump Plaza, Atlantic City, February 17, 2021

Well, it's a New Year, meaning holiday-season "seasonal jobs" are about to come to an end, and unemployment is going up again.

In other words, Trump will lie and say he's brought it down.

Of course, when a Democratic President brings unemployment down, people who simp for conservatism will say that these are "people who have stopped looking for work." Retirees, people who have become too disabled to work (temporarily or otherwise), or people who are, in these simpers' minds, just plain lazy. (Right, as if Reagan, Dubya Bush and Trump weren't the 3 laziest Presidents of all time.)

The great comedian George Carlin liked to say, "Most people work just hard enough to not get fired, because they get paid just enough to not quit." He also said: "If work is so great, how come they have to pay you to do it?"

There's an old saying: "Hard work never killed anybody, but why take the risk?" In fact, hard work has killed a lot of people, sometimes all at once, sometimes over time. It's why we have labor laws and OSHA.

These men who have "stopped looking for work" don't have the incentive. Why risk death or permanent injury for low pay and low or nonexistent benefits? If the CEO doesn't care enough about his employees to treat them well, why should we be his employees?

This is not laziness, this is self-preservation -- something you would think Republicans, with selfishness being the leading trait of conservatism, would understand, and they would want to do something about it.

But no: Their own selfishness triumphs over the workers' desire to do an honest day's work for an honest day's pay and to be safe while doing it.

Let's face it: If how hard we worked, alone, determined our success levels, then a coal miner would have become President by now, and Trump would be homeless.

Instead of casinoless. And feckless. And heartless. And brainless. And moralless.

December 23, 1975: The Reserve Clause Is Killed

Peter Seitz

December 23, 1975, 50 years ago: The reserve clause is struck down, changing baseball forever.

The clause -- nothing Christmassy about this -- began in 1879, when the National League instituted it, allowing teams to reserve players for each season, unless a player opted out of his contract and did not play in the league for a year. This allowed the team owners to control salaries, since the players could not play one team owner off another and get higher bids for their salaries.

In 1890, the Sherman Antitrust Act was passed. To some people in baseball, the reserve clause sounded like a violation of that act. In 1922, in Federal Baseball Club v. National League, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled otherwise, saying, in a 9-0 unanimous vote, baseball was an "amusement," therefore did not constitute "interstate commerce," and therefore antitrust laws did not to apply to it. That ruling has never been overturned by a later Supreme Court ruling.

So opponents of the reserve clause had to find another way to get it struck down. In 1969, the St. Louis Cardinals traded Curt Flood to the Philadelphia Phillies, and, having a home and a business in St. Louis, and believing Philadelphia to be a racist city, he didn't want to go. He contacted the Chairman of the Major League Baseball Players' Association, Marvin Miller, to see what could be done about it.

Curt Flood

Miller decided that the reserve clause was a legitimate basis for negotiation in collective bargaining between players and owners. The case of Flood v. Kuhn went to the Supreme Court in 1972, and the decision was 5-3 in favor of the owners.

Finally, Miller got the team owners to agree to impartial arbitration. What he needed was two players to challenge the clause, by playing the 1975 season without signing a contract. This was because Miller realized that the clause only reserved the player for one year. The owners had always interpreted it to mean the player was reserved until he was released: Even if traded, his new team assumed the reservation.

Marvin Miller

It had to be two players, so that it wouldn't look like one embittered player, as Flood, fairly or not, seemed to be. Both players turned out to be pitchers. Dave McNally had been traded from the Baltimore Orioles to the Montreal Expos, and had determined that 1975 would be his last season, as he planned to retire to his ranch in Montana. So he had nothing to lose.

Andy Messersmith had much to lose. Born on the Jersey Shore in Toms River, and raised in the Orange County suburbs of Los Angeles, the righthander was 29, and had gone 20-6 in helping the Los Angeles Dodgers win the National League Pennant in 1974. He was in position to make a great deal of money if he could put his skills up for bid. But Miller convinced him that striking the reserve clause down was more important. So he played the '75 season with the Dodgers, without a contract, turned 30, and went 19-14.

Andy Messersmith

In an interview with The Sporting News for the 10th Anniversary of the decision, Messersmith said, "It was less of an economic issue at the time than a fight for the right to have control over your own destiny. It was a matter of being tired of going in to negotiate a contract and hearing the owners say, 'OK, here's what you're getting. Tough luck.'"

The owners were terrified. There is one thing that a sports team owner values more than money, and that is control. If the clause were struck down, the owners would have to pay more in salaries, but, from their perspective, the bigger problem was that they would lose some measure of control over the players' fates. They could have compromised, but were too stubborn and set in their ways to do so.

So the decision went to arbitration. A three-man panel was chosen. Miller represented the players. John Gaherin, the chief negotiator of the MLB Player Relations Committee, argued on behalf of the team owners. Together, they found an arbitrator acceptable to both of them: Peter Seitz, a 67-year-old lawyer who had negotiated New York City's labor relations law a decade earlier.

On December 23, the ruling was handed down. Surprising no one, Miller sided with the players, and Gaherin sided with the owners. Seitz had the deciding vote, and he sided with the players, saying:

The grievances of Messersmith and McNally are sustained. There is no contractual bond between these players and the Los Angeles and the Montreal clubs, respectively. Absent such a contract, their clubs had no right or power, under the Basic Agreement, the Uniform Player Contract or the Major League Rules to reserve their services for their exclusive use for any period beyond the renewal year in the contracts which these players had heretofore signed with their clubs...

The leagues involved in these proceedings, without delay, shall take such steps as may be necessary to inform and instruct their member clubs that the provisions of Major League Rules 4-A(a) and 3(g) do not inhibit, prohibit or prevent such clubs from negotiating or dealing with respect to employment with the grievants in this case; also, that Messersmith shall be removed from the reserve list of the Los Angeles Club and McNally from the reserve or disqualified lists of the Montreal Club.

The next day, the owners fired Seitz as arbitrator. But that did nothing to change the official result of his decision: The reserve clause was mortally wounded. It wasn't quite dead, as the owners had the right to appeal. On February 4, 1976, the Seitz decision was upheld in a federal district court. On March 10, it was upheld in a federal appeals court.

Finally, rather than take the apparently inevitable beatdown from the U.S. Supreme Court, the owners decided to make a deal. On July 12, an agreement was reached on a 4-year labor deal, giving players with at least 6 years' play in the major leagues the right to free agency. (This would later be reduced to 5 years.) Finally, on August 2, 1976, the players voted on ratification, and the reserve clause was formally buried.

A few years later, Cardinals owner and Anheuser-Busch beer magnate Gussie Busch met with the man he had traded to unwittingly set all this in motion, Curt Flood. No owner had been more vehement than Busch that the reserve clause had to be maintained, or else baseball would be "destroyed." But Busch told Flood he was right, and the owners were wrong, and apologized to him.

Flood had sacrificed his career for Messersmith and all the players who came after him. Messersmith signed with the Atlanta Braves, for $1 million over 3 years. But he didn't pan out with them, due to injuries. He went 11-11 in 1976, and only 5-4 in 1977. He was traded to the Yankees for 1978, but made only 7 appearances, going 0-3.

The Yankees released him, and, with some irony, he signed as a free agent with the Dodgers. This was possible because their owner, Walter O'Malley, champion of the cheap, had died, and his son, Peter O'Malley, was one of the owners willing to pay big money if he thought it would bring big results. In Messersmith's case, it didn't: He made just 11 appearances, going 2-4, and was done at age 34.

Messersmith later coached at a community college in Northern California, while McNally worked on his ranch and ran a car dealership. Neither worked in professional baseball again.

Seitz died in 1983, Flood in 1997, McNally in 2002, Miller in 2012. As of December 23, 2025, Messersmith is still alive, age 80.

July 30, 1975: The Disappearance of Jimmy Hoffa

July 30, 1975, 50 years ago: Jimmy Hoffa goes to a meeting. Nobody knows the result of this meeting, because nobody ever saw Hoffa again. Anybody who did see him after this meeting hasn't been talking.

James Riddle Hoffa was born on February 14, 1913 in Brazil, Indiana, outside Terre Haute. Controversial Bishop James Pike was born the exact same day, and he would also disappear, although he was found -- dead. New York Yankees broadcaster Mel Allen was born the same day. So was Ohio State football coach Woody Hayes.

Hoffa was 7 when his father died, and at 11, his mother moved him to Detroit, where he lived for the rest of his life. He dropped out of school to go to work at age 14. Because of the abuses he sustained on his job, he was drawn to union activity. By 1932, he was a member of the International Brotherhood of Teamsters, which then represented truck drivers and chauffeurs, although it now represents a diverse group of blue-collar and professional workers.

Hoffa proved to be an organizing genius: In his rise through the Teamsters, they grew from 75,000 members in 1933 to 420,000 in 1939, actually growing despite the manpower drain of World War II (for which Hoffa's leadership role within the union got him a draft deferment), and topping 1 million in 1951. By 1952, Hoffa was the union's national vice president, and was elected president in 1957.

By this point, the actions of the Teamsters had attracted some inconvenient attention. The U.S. Senate's Select Committee on Improper Activities in Labor or Management Field, chaired by John McClellan of Arkansas (and thus remembered as "the McClellan Committee"), called Hoffa's predecessor, Dave Beck, to Capitol Hill to testify on organized crime's influence on the union. He invoked his right against self-incrimination under the 5th Amendment to the Constitution of the United States 140 times, and was subsequently indicted and convicted of embezzlement. (He served 2 1/2 years in prison, and died in 1993, at age 99.) That allowed Hoffa to rise to the union's presidency sooner than would have been expected.

One of the members of the McClellan Committee was John F. Kennedy of Massachusetts. The legal counsel for the Committee was Kennedy's brother, Robert F. Kennedy. Bobby had discovered several financial irregularities, including the misappropriation of $9.5 million in union funds  -- about $108 million in 2022 money.

The exchange between Robert Kennedy and Hoffa was so intense, it inspired Bobby's 1st book, titled The Enemy Within. I found the book once, and couldn't believe that the man who wrote it was the same man who ran for President in 1968 on a message of peace and brotherhood. This Robert Kennedy was incredibly belligerent, and he didn't seem to have a nice thing to say about anybody. It later inspired a 1983 TV-movie, titled Blood Feud, starring Robert Blake as Hoffa and Cotter Smith as Bobby.

Hoffa was indicted for bribery over this. He was acquitted, but the controversy led the AFL-CIO to expel the Teamsters from its ranks. This didn't stop Hoffa: He managed to bring airline workers and transport workers (bus drivers and subway motormen) under the Teamsters' umbrella.

John F. Kennedy was elected President in 1960, and appointed Bobby as his Attorney General. (A law has since been passed prohibiting nepotism by a President.) Bobby wanted Hoffa imprisoned, very badly, and failed in his 1st attempt, being acquitted of conspiracy in 1962. In May 1963, Bobby got Hoffa indicted for jury tampering. On November 22, 1963, before the case could go to trial, President Kennedy was assassinated. According to the TV-movie, Hoffa hated Bobby so much that, when he was told, "Kennedy's been shot!" he asked, "Which Kennedy?"

Hoffa was convicted on March 6, 1964, and sentenced to 13 years. After 3 years of appealing, he went to prison on March 6, 1967. On December 23, 1971, President Richard Nixon -- perhaps to spite the Kennedys, and the memories of Jack and Bobby -- commuted Hoffa's sentence to time served, and he was free.

But there was a catch: As part of the deal, he was forbidden to "engage in the direct or indirect management of any labor organization." He couldn't stay away, and in 1973, he sued to invalidate the restriction, but lost his case.

He also found that he had lost support in the union, even in his native Detroit, where Anthony Provenzano, a caporegime in New York's Genovese crime family, had become the power behind the throne, along with the brothers Anthony and Vito Giacalone, major figures in the "Detroit Partnership," as the local Mafia were known. By 1975, the back-and-forth between Hoffa and the mobsters was nasty enough that Hoffa's son, James P. Hoffa, said, "I was increasingly afraid that the Mob would do something about it."

They did: They set up an alleged peace meeting between Tony Giacalone and Hoffa, for July 30, at 2:00 PM, at Machus' Red Fox restaurant in suburban Bloomfield Township, Michigan. Between 2:15 and 2:30, Hoffa's wife, Josephine, received a phone call from him, made from a payphone in front of Damman Hardware, behind the Red Fox, telling her that Tony hadn't shown up, and that he'd been stood up. He said he'd be home at 4:00 to grill some steaks for dinner.

Two men later admitted that they saw Hoffa, shook his hand and talked to him, and walked away without harming him. Another witness said he saw Hoffa in the back of a maroon car, either a Lincoln or a Mercury, with 3 other people, around 2:45 or 2:50, but, at the time, with no indication that he was in any kind of trouble. Hoffa was never reported as having been seen again. He was 62 years old.

The FBI investigated, but found through their wiretaps that mobsters were unwilling to talk about Hoffa's disappearance. Theories about it abound, but pretty much all of them end with Hoffa being killed, rather than running off with money (or perhaps another woman) and living to a ripe old age.

One of the theories is that, after being murdered by mobsters, Hoffa was buried in an oil drum underneath the end zone at Giants Stadium, then under construction in the Meadowlands in East Rutherford, New Jersey. When the stadium was demolished, no oil drums were found. So, whatever happened to Hoffa, this wasn't it.

Spoiler alerts for films based on Hoffa. In 1978, Sylvester Stallone starred in F.I.S.T., in which he played Johnny Kovak, head of the Federation of Inter-State Truckers. At the end of the movie, he is shot by the Mob. The aforementioned Blood Feud, with Robert Blake, ends with the notation that Hoffa disappeared, but offers no explanation for it. In the 1992 film Hoffa, he is played by Jack Nicholson, and is shot in his car along with another man.

In the 2019 film The Irishman, the real-life hitman Frank Sheeran, played by Robert De Niro, claims that, as a friend of Hoffa's, he was the only man the Mob trusted to pull the trigger on Hoffa, played by Al Pacino. In this film, Hoffa is told that the meeting was moved to a house where Provenzano was waiting for them. This matches the story that Hoffa was seen in the back seat of a car with no apparent trouble. When he got there, Sheeran shot him, and worked with other men to have Hoffa cremated, which would explain why no trace of his body has ever been found. If this story is true, then Sheeran never paid for his crime, avoiding prison until his death in 2003, age 83.

The building that housed Machus' Red Fox, at 6676 Telegraph Road, a.k.a. U.S. Route 24, 22 miles northwest of downtown Detroit, still stands, and is still a restaurant, an Italian steakhouse named Andiamo.

James P. Hoffa, whose wedding reception -- before his father's disappearance -- was held at the Red Fox, was elected to his father's old job of President of the Teamsters in 1998, and was continually re-elected until leaving office on March 21, 2022, at age 81.

April 2, 1995: Baseball's Longest Strike Ends

Jorge Posada and fellow Puerto Rican Sonia Sotomayor,

at the new Yankee Stadium in 2009,

after her confirmation to the U.S. Supreme Court

April 2, 1995, 30 years ago: A federal judge grants an injunction against Major League Baseball, preventing its team owners from unilaterally implementing a new collective bargaining agreement and using replacement players. This ends the Strike of '94. MLB and the Players Association reach an agreement that will start the new season on April 25.

The Judge was a 40-year-old Yankee Fan from The Bronx. I was so grateful to her for giving me back my baseball, I was willing to marry her. (Give me a break: She was very attractive back then.) At the very least, I wanted her on the Supreme Court of the United States.

The former, obviously, didn't happen. The latter did, in 2009. Her name was Sonia Sotomayor.

The next day, April 3, I went into New York, took the Subway up to Yankee Stadium, and bought a ticket for Opening Day. Main Level Reserved, Section 2, right behind home plate. $24. (About twice that in today's money.) The gates were open -- security was different in those pre-9/11 days. And I was able to walk to my seat, and just sat there for about 15 minutes, taking it all in.

Walking out, I saw a section of the outer wall's plaster displaced. I picked up a 2-by-3-inch piece, and took it home. To this day, I have a piece of the old Yankee Stadium, even if it probably dated, at most, only to the 1973-76 renovation. There was also some graffiti on the wall. When Opening Day came on April 26, the plaster was repaired, the graffiti was painted over, both looked like there had never been anything wrong, and the Yankees won.