Playboy Interview: George Steinbrenner

It was 11:10 P.M.---just 20 minutes before air time---and things were strangely quiet on the set of "Saturday Night Live." The real action was 100 feet down the hall, in a cramped studio kitchenette, where a knot of stagehands and performers crowded around a small portable television set to catch the evening's prime attraction: the fourth game of the 1990 World Series. Out in California, manager Lou Piniella and his Cincinnati Reds were just six outs away from one of the most stunning upsets in baseball history---a four-game sweep of the juggernaut Oakland A's.

"Hey," someone piped up. "What do you think George thinks of this?" Eyes flicked about nervously, as if someone might be listening. "I mean. Lou's there, George is here. Doesn't that seem pretty weird?"

It was weird. Because George Steinbrenner, former managing general partner of the New York Yankees and erstwhile enfant terrible of the American League, was not only conspicuosly absent from baseball's fall classic but ousted from the game altogether: as the Reds were preparing to enter the baseball record books, Steinbrenner was in a studio dressing room, getting combed and prepped for his stint as "S.N.L." guest host. Only two and a half months earlier, baseball commissioner Fay Vincent had effectively expelled Steinbrenner from the sport that had made him famous, after conducting one of the most publicized disciplinary hearings since the 1919 Black Sox scandal. A seasoned trouper, Steinbrenner accepted the "S.N.L." gig with humor and grace and, when he took center stage, made it a point to congratulate both Piniella---his former employee---and Cincinnati---his one-time series opponent. Yet, he still felt the sting.

The commissioner's investigation had been an exhaustive one, and the findings were damning. After weeks of poring over documents and listening to testimony. Vincent concluded that Steinbrenner had paid Howard Spira, a two-bit Bronx gambler, $40,000 to dig up dirt on Yankees outfielder and Steinbrenner nemesis Dave Winfield. Spira had worked as a gofer for the David M. Winfield Foundation---a charitable organization Winfield had established to help inner-city kids---and went to Steinbrenner with information about financial irregularities at the organization.

Steinbrenner claimed he paid Spira the $40,000 ("out of the goodness of my heart") to help the former gambler start his life over. Vincent didn't buy the story and, last July 30, convened a press conference to hand down baseball's equivalent of a death sentence: Henceforth, George Steinbrenner was "to be treated as if he had been placed on the permanently ineligible list."

The New York media went wild at the news: TV stations interrupted their regular programing to carry the story: at Yankee Stadium, 24,000 fans rose to their feet, breaking into a spontaneous, 90-second ovation; newspapers ran headlines in type faces ordinarily reserved for moon landings and peace treaties.

Steinbrenner greeted his fate with surprising equanimity. "I'm very happy," he said at the time. "Satisfied, let's say."

But now, Steinbrenner seems anything but satisfied. The punishment, he now insists, was not a punishment at all but simply an agreement between himself and Vincent---and the terms of that agreement, he argues, have been distorted by the commissioner. Two Yankees partners have filed a suit seeking to return their toppled boss to power; and Steinbrenner himself has gone on the public-relations offensive, telling anyone who will listen that his life in Yankees pinstripes is anything but over, insisting that his disciplinary hearing was nothing short of a sham.

Meanwhile, the press continues to track the Steinbrenner affair with front-page urgency. As recently as February, New York tabloids revealed that Steinbrenner's lawyers had submitted a 500-page report to baseball's executive council detailing alleged irregularities in the commissioner's investigation. Coverage of the story, however, was curiously contradictory: On subsequent days. New York papers attributed to Steinbrenner such conflicting quotes as "I want [the] Yanks back" and "My goal is not to run the team again. ... All I want to do is see the truth come out."

Those who know and love Steinbrenner---and they do exist---insist that his case has merit. Those who know and scorn him---and they certainly exist---doubt it. Both sides, however, agree that his fall from baseball grace was as long in coming as it was inevitable. It was in 1973 that sports fans first heard of the shipbuilder from Cleveland who, along with 11 partners, had scraped together enough funds to buy a lackluster Yankees franchise with the hopes of reversing its fading fortunes. The purchase price for the most storied team in professional sports was about $10,000,000---less than half the current contract of Oakland outfielder Jose Canseco.

"We plan absentee ownership," the new boss said at the time, but within the first two years of his stewardship, the hands-off owner started to look decidedly hands-on. New managers and coaches were hired; free-agent superstars were signed to multimillion-dollar contracts; lucrative TV and radio deals were negotiated. Then, in 1976, the revamped Yankees won the American League pennant; in 1977 and 1978, the team won back-to-back World Series, its first since 1962. Throughout the Seventies and the Eighties, stadium attendance and television audiences climbed, and by 1990, the group's $10,000,000 investment was worth in excess of $200,000,000.

But with trophies and profits came turmoil. Over time, Steinbrenner started engaging in strangely erratic behavior. In 1981, he boasted of having been involved in a fight in a Los Angeles elevator, in which he claimed to have punched some Dodgers fans who had slurred the Yankees. He also began berating his players and managers constantly---and publicly. From 1973 to 1990, his staff changes included the comings and goings of 19 managers, five team presidents, 15 pitching coaches and 13 general managers and the trading away of entire rosters of promising players. The Yankees' boss also repeatedly sparked the ire of the reigning baseball commissioner, earning himself a string of fines and reprimands. At one point, he was suspended for two years for having made an illegal contribution to Richard Nixon's 1972 re-election campaign.

The upheaval started taking its toll: From 1986 to 1990, the Yankees plunged from second to fourth to last place in the American League East. Attendance slid badly, and those fans who did go to the stadium often spent much of the game waving anti-Steinbrenner placards and chanting, "George must go" and "Steinbrenner sucks." Just before the Vincent ruling was handed down, Newsweek ran a picture of the Yankees' boss on its cover with the caption "The Most Hated Man in Baseball." And almost immediately after the commissioner's decision was announced, the U.S. Olympic Committee followed suit, asking Steinbrenner, who serves as a vice-president of the committee, to step back from its day-to-day activities until the storm passed.

For Steinbrenner, life has never been without its battles. The oldest of three children---and the only son---George M. Steinbrenner III was born in Rocky River, Ohio, on the Fourth of July, 1930. His mother, Rita Haley Steinbrenner, was a small, reserved woman of Irish descent, a Christian Scientist who reared her family more with nudges and nurturing than with discipline. His father, Henry, was another matter: Demanding, rich and rigid, he was an athlete and engineer of German background who made his fortune in the shipping business.

At 14, Steinbrenner was sent off to the Culver Military Academy in northern Indiana, then went on to Williams College in Massachusetts. A quiet student who neither smoked nor drank, Steinbrenner played halfback for the Williams football team, ran hurdles in track and co-edited the sports section of the Williams Record.

He served a hitch in the Air Force, then enrolled at Ohio State University, planning a master's degree in physical education and a career coaching football. In 1955, he took coaching jobs first at Northwestern University and at Purdue, alongside such gridiron luminaries as Lou Saban and Len Dawson.

In 1957, however, Henry Steinbrenner intervened. Kinsman Marine, the family shipping business, was beginning to struggle, and the son was called home to help keep the company afloat. Steinbrenner, assuming the duties of company treasurer, still had the sports bug, and, in 1960, sold his shares of Kinsman stock, raised $125,000 and used the money to buy the Cleveland Pipers, an industrial-league basketball team. In 1963, the Pipers went bankrupt. Henry Steinbrenner retired and George took over the reins of the family company. Ultimately, he was able to raise enough money to gain a majority interest in Kinsman stock, diversify into ship construction and---in a move he still considers neither ironic nor poetic---lure his father out of retirement to work for the firm he now ran.

Steinbrenner had become a man with enormous industrial clout---and an enormous love of sports. After a deal to buy the Cleveland Indians fell through, he acquired title to the New York Yankees in 1973. It was a move that would eventually bring him fame, fortune and, last year, disgrace.

To interview Steinbrenner, Playboy chose free-lance journalistJeffrey Kluger,a baseball writer who has traveled from Cooperstown to Tokyo to cover the sport. Kluger caught up with Steinbrenner in suites at two New York hotels and in the offices of American Ship Building Co. in Tampa, Florida. Here is his report:

"There are harder things to do than pinning George Steinbrenner down for a meeting, but none leap to mind. It took more than two months of broken appointments before we finally agreed on a time and day to meet in his suite at The Carlyle hotel. Even then, it was made clear that we would have just a couple of hours to talk, and that future meetings would be catch-as-catch-can.

"Once we did get together, I found Steinbrenner to be a wonderfully gracious host---the captain of industry who remembers to pour your coffee, the colossus of baseball who reminds you to drink your juice. When you say something he respects or agrees with, he lets you know with an "Alla boy!' or a 'That's the way!' I had not planned---or even wanted---to like the man, yet I found myself warming up.

"But Steinbrenner has another side, too. There's a strut and bluster to him that grows old quickly. When you're with him, his phone rings constantly and he always leaps to answer it. The conversations are either raucous and hearty or cryptic and whispered; but in either case, they seem to be as much for the benefit of the person in the room as for the person on the other end of the line. When Steinbrenner does focus on the conversation at hand, he can get lost in it. He is, after all, a man with a big, cluttered history and a side to every story he wants to tell.

"Ultimately, though, Steinbrenner comes across as neither mean nor mythic but as the kind of guy you've known all your life---that rich businessman your dad used to have drinks with who wore those strange beltless slacks and monogrammed shirts and who could bend your ear for hours on end, usually talking about himself. The thing was, though, he'd had a remarkable life and, not incidentally, made himself tons of money. Try as you might, you couldn't deny that this was a man who had left his mark upon the world.

"Steinbrenner and I began our conversation---how else?---by talking baseball."

Playboy: Here we are, at the beginning of a new baseball season, and for the first time since 1973, George Steinbrenner isn't part of the game. What's that like?

Steinbrenner: People keep coming up to me and asking. "How does it feel to be banned for life?" That's bullshit. Banned for life. I wasn't banned for life. There was never a word of suspension, probation or ban in that agreement. It was never meant to be part of it.

Playboy: The press and the commissioner certainly made it sound that way.

Steinbrenner: Well, the spirit of the agreement was that it wasn't supposed to be a ban. But within ten minutes of the time we signed it. Fay Vincent went to his press conference and said, "It is a permanent suspension." He also said that I can't even go to a ball game without his permission. That's a lie! The man lied! They took that agreement and twisted it. For whatever reasons, I don't know. Maybe someday we'll find out.

The agreement specifically states that there are certain extraordinary and material things---like free agents---that I can still get the commissioner's permission to participate in. And there are four specific areas that I have the absolute right to participate in: banking and financial arrangements---anything having to do with money that we have in the bank; all radio and television contracts; all lease negotiations with New York City and the minor-league cities; and all concession contracts.

Playboy: And the agreement said the commissioner could approve of your participation in those four areas?

Steinbrenner: It said he will approve---that I'd write him and say, "I'm going to be involved in this," and he would have no choice. Will approve. He kept telling me over and over that he didn't want to hurt the Yankees partnership in any way, then he says, "He can't even go to a ball game without my permission." That's false. I can go to a ball game. I can't sit in the owner's box at Yankee Stadium, but I can sit in the owner's box in any other ball park. Vincent took that agreement and twisted it.

Playboy: Why would he do that?

Steinbrenner: To make himself look all powerful, like he had stamped me down and humiliated me. I wanted to announce the agreement jointly with him at the press conference, but he didn't want to do that. He wanted a different twist. Of course, the agreement also says that I'm not supposed to talk about these things. ...

Playboy: The agreement doesn't say you can't talk about the game itself like any other fan. So let's do that. How did you feel about the Reds' big upset of Oakland last year?

Steinbrenner: You never count anyone out in a series. I still think Oakland was the best team in baseball last year, but as I looked into the faces of the A's in the first game, I saw guys who were not quite uninterested but sort of saying, "Oh, ho, hum." I think they went in a little overconfident, and Cincinnati was lying in the weeds. [Reds vice-president and general manager] Bob Quinn has some tremendous talent on that team.

Playboy: Quinn and Lou Piniella were former Steinbrenner employees. So, in a sense, it was a real ex-Yankees series.

Steinbrenner: Well, that's true. Before Bob went out there, he had told me that he wanted to move on to greener pastures. We had heard rumors that they needed somebody to straighten things out in Cincinnati and, sure enough, [Reds owner] Marge Schott called me, crying that she was getting raked over the coals out there and that nobody in her own organization would protect her. I said, "Well, Bob Quinn will do that for you. He'll keep these back stabbers off of you." She said, "Well, then I think I'm going to hire him."

Next, Bob wanted to talk to Lou Piniella. I called Lou and said, "This is a great situation for you and your family---a wonderful town, and Marge is a good person. So I'm going to give you permission to go out there and talk to them." Lou went out and talked to Marge, but afterward, Marge called me and said, "I'm not going to take Lou. He wants three years and I won't give anybody three years." I said, "Now, listen to me, Marge, and listen carefully. You take Lou. Lou's what you need out there." I pleaded with her and she finally agreed to give him the third year.

Playboy: Are you taking credit for building the Reds?

Steinbrenner: I'm not taking credit for a thing. In fact, a lot of people said to me, "You dumbass, you let two people get away." But the night before Cincinnati started the play-offs, Bob Quinn called me and said, "George, I'm sitting here ready to go into the play-offs and I was thinking about you. This is the greatest thrill of my life and you made it all happen. I just wanted you to know that." That was one of the nicest things that ever happened to me in baseball.

Playboy: One time when things weren't so nice for you was July thirtieth of last year: The fans at Yankee Stadium are watching a game with the Tigers when word gets around that you've accepted the commissioner's punishment-----

Steinbrenner: Let's not talk punishment.

Playboy: OK, the agreement. As the news started to spread, the response from the fans was, well, enthusiastic.

Steinbrenner: Sure.

Playboy: That had to hurt.

Steinbrenner: It didn't bother me.

Playboy: Twenty-four thousand cheering fans didn't hurt?

Steinbrenner: You have to understand the mentality of the sports fan. When soccer fans riot and kill people over the score of a game, when baseball fans jump down from the stands, run onto the field and strip, that's just their nature. No psychologist will ever say that sports fans are the model of how people should be; something happens to them when they're all together. One guy boos and the next guy says, "Hey, he's booing, I'll boo, too." One guy cheers and everyone else cheers. I've heard them boo Don Mattingly. I've heard them boo Reggie Jackson---unmercifully. But that's their mentality. You're only as good as your last game. If you don't understand that about sports, stay out of the game.

Playboy: But something happened to turn the fans against you. Let's look at the stats. Under Steinbrenner, the Yankees had fourteen winning seasons-----

Steinbrenner: Plus five division championships, four American League pennants, two World Series victories and the best won---lost percentage in baseball in the Eighties.

Playboy: And yet, at some point, it all started to go sour. The numbers point to 1980 as the turning point. The Yankees got swept in the American League play-offs and-----

Steinbrenner: Nobody has won as many games as we have in the past seventeen years.

Playboy: But you haven't won a World Series in twelve years. What would you rather have---one hundred wins and a second-place finish, like the 1980 Orioles, or eighty-five wins and a World Series victory, like the 1987 Twins?

Steinbrenner: I can't really say, because I believe winning is the key to it. I'm win oriented. But too many things can determine whether you get to the play-offs or the series. Too many things. You can have the best team and still not get into the series. That happened to Cincinnati one year:

Playboy: But getting back to the point, under your helmsmanship, the most storied team in baseball history fell apart. During those seventeen years, you worked with four commissioners, were fined six times for a total of three hundred fifty thousand dollars, were suspended twice and reprimanded once.

Steinbrenner: First of all, remember that Bowie Kuhn was the commissioner who fined me many of those times. Holier-than-thou, sanctimonious Bowie Kuhn---the epitome of integrity! Bowie Kuhn was looking for reasons to get me.

Playboy: Why would he do that?

Steinbrenner: I don't know. I mean, Bowie and I never really got along. He wasn't my kind of guy. We just never had a relationship.

Take the pine-tar incident in 1983, which was the heaviest fine, OK? George Brett comes up to bat for the Kansas City Royals in a crucial game and hits a home run against us. But in violation of the baseball rules, he has pine tar smeared too far up his bat. An umpire, trying to do his job, measures the bat, finds it illegal and disallows the home run; there's a rule in the rule book and it was broken, right? So the umpire's ruling should stand. But baseball, in its infinite wisdom, interferes. [Former American League president] Lee MacPhail comes out and says, "Well, I don't think the pine tar hurts or changes the flight of the ball, so I'm going to overrule it." So I got heated and issued a statement that said, "Maybe he ought to buy a house in Kansas City, if that's the way he feels." Then the commissioner calls me up and---boom!---we have a hearing.

Playboy: Which resulted in a two-hundred-fifty-thousand-dollar fine.

Steinbrenner: For speaking out. But why shouldn't I speak out? Don't you speak out in this country?

Playboy: Sure, but isn't some decorum incumbent upon a team owner?

Steinbrenner: No, I don't think so. Nobody is going to sit back and not say anything just because he's bought into a league where the commissioner has such absolute power. But let me tell you where this almighty power came from: It came into being with Judge [Kenesaw Mountain] Landis, the first commissioner, who was brought in during the Black Sox scandal in 1919. The commissioner was given the power to do anything that's "in the best interest of baseball." And that's a pretty ill-defined term.

Playboy: It is very broad.

Steinbrenner: It's without definition! Is it in the best interest of baseball to sell beer in the ninth inning? Probably not. The rule has got to be more clearly defined. And then some process should be set up where the judge is not also the appeals judge.

Playboy: Another incident that caught the eye of the press was your alleged fight in an elevator in Los Angeles in 1981. What actually happened?

Steinbrenner: What happened? My lawyers have that information. On their advice, I have never talked about it, and I don't intend to. Things were done, settlements were made, and that's all there is to it. I'm not going to talk about it.

Playboy: Were you telling the truth to the press at the time?

Steinbrenner: I won't talk about it. [Pauses] Absolutely. Absolutely.

Playboy: There were kids in the elevator, right?

Steinbrenner: There were.

Playboy: They were Dodgers fans.

Steinbrenner: They were. And my attorneys have that. That's long buried.

Playboy: You hit somebody?

Steinbrenner: I hit a number of times, yes. That's all I'm going to say.

Playboy: How did you react when people said, "George punched an elevator wall"?

Steinbrenner: [Sarcastically] Ahhh! I'm sure I'm going to do that. Right. I don't care what people say, you know. They can say what they want.

Playboy: Until now, perhaps the most well-known blemish on your record was your connection to Watergate. After your conviction for making an illegal contribution to Richard Nixon's 1972 reelection campaign, Kuhn suspended you for two years. How did that sit with you?

Steinbrenner: There are things that have never come out on Watergate that someday will come out.

Playboy: Can you say what things?

Steinbrenner: Deep things. No, I can't say, but they would throw an entirely different light on it.

Playboy: Did you commit a crime?

Steinbrenner: You commit a crime when you make an illegal contribution.

Playboy: And you made an illegal contribution?

Steinbrenner: Well, I was ... I was one of many. I won't even dwell on it. It was an old law, an antiquated law. I got some very poor advice. And that's all I'm going to say.

Playboy: You're a patriotic man. How did it feel to have your right to vote taken away?

Steinbrenner: It didn't feel good. It was a devastation to me, because I love my country so much, and no one is as patriotic---almost to the point of corniness---as I am. That's why I'm so respectful that President Reagan gave me a pardon.

Playboy: What prompted that?

Steinbrenner: I don't know. I had applied several times, and finally he did it. President Carter didn't see fit to, but President Reagan did.

Playboy: Did you promptly register to vote again?

Steinbrenner: Yes.

Playboy: Were you bothered when [former Yankees manager] Billy Martin talked about the incident and used the word convicted to describe you?

Steinbrenner: Oh, Billy said many things in many places under the influence of many things---his drinking or his anger or whatever. Billy was a warrior. And I appreciated that.

Playboy: More than anybody else, Martin best represents the turmoil of the George Steinbrenner Yankees. What was behind all your hirings and firings of Billy? [Martin served five separate terms as Yankees manager before dying in an automobile accident in 1989.]

Steinbrenner: Well, there were some mistakes made; I probably shouldn't have changed managers as much as I did. One thing about me when I changed managers, though: I didn't let the people go; I didn't fire them and put them out in the street. Most of those people are still with me. Now, in the case of Billy Martin---I loved Billy. I never knew a better manager in baseball. But Billy was sometimes the cause of the firings. At least three of the five times I hired him and fired him, things had happened that prevented me from keeping him on. That barroom brawl he got into in Texas in 1988, for example. I saw him after that brawl. His ear was almost torn off. He was a bloody mess.

Playboy: But if you knew Billy had a drinking and brawling problem, didn't you only contribute to it by keeping him on a managerial seesaw?

Steinbrenner: No, because he was drinking whether he was with me or not. Toward the end, he would go a few months and then---boom!---something would happen.

Playboy: Suppose you had made it a condition of his employment that he get into alcohol rehabilitation? It's done for players, why not for managers?

Steinbrenner: We did have him in various programs. I don't really want to discuss Billy's personal habits; he's not here to defend himself. Suffice it to say that Billy had his problems---like everybody does. His drinking was obviously one of them. He had his faults like I have my faults. But still, I loved him---absolutely. And don't forget, he was with me until the end.

Playboy: But many of your other managers weren't. Let's run through some of them. Dick Howser. [Howser left the Yankees in 1980. He died of a brain tumor in 1987, after winning the 1985 World Series with Kansas City.]

Steinbrenner: Great manager. Great person. A mistake.

Playboy: A mistake to fire him?

Steinbrenner: Yeah.

Playboy:Did you fire him? At the time, you said he left the team to pursue real-estate opportunities.

Steinbrenner: Well, I'm telling you that we sat in a restaurant at my hotel and he told me about these opportunities. But I also have no doubt that he wasn't happy working for me. He may have felt that he was being forced out or something, or that I didn't try hard enough to keep him. But I think if you went to his wife, Nancy, today, she would tell you that I was pretty loyal to him during the entire thing, and if he couldn't stand managing for me, OK. But he was a fine manager and, more than that, a fine person.

Now, this is off the record: [Weeks later, Steinbrenner would reluctantly agree to allow the following portion back on the record.] The mortgage on Nancy's house is paid for by me. And the first person to meet her at the airport in Tallahassee when she came back from Kansas City with Dick's body was George Steinbrenner. I think she'll tell you that.

Playboy: How come you don't want this on the record?

Steinbrenner: I just don't think I should. Some people say that I feel bad over what happened with Dick and that I may have played a part in it. Maybe yes, but I really cared for him and I care for her. She's lovely people. And it was a tragic loss for baseball. He was a courageous, good guy. OK, that's Howser.

Playboy: Dallas Green. Green left the Yankees on bad terms with you. Was it a mistake to fire him?

Steinbrenner: No, absolutely not. I'd do it again. I don't want to get into any verbal battle with Dallas, except if you go back and check with the Chicago Cubs, where Green had been general manager and team president, you'll find that they didn't think I should hire him.

Playboy: Why not?

Steinbrenner: They sat at a table in Montreal with me, and a top official---whom I won't name---said, "You're making a mistake, because he'll always blame management and the front office. That's what he did here in Chicago." He didn't leave his managing job in Philly under the best of terms, either.

Playboy: But he left there with a World Series ring.

Steinbrenner: Still, it wasn't under the best of terms. We also had player problems under Dallas. Certain people asked me at the 1990 spring training, "Why did you ever hire him? He was always blaming the players."

Playboy: The players said this to you?

Steinbrenner: The players. I said, "Why the hell didn't you guys speak up when I made the move?" Suffice it to say, I wouldn't hire Dallas again. He says, "I wouldn't go back again." Fine. I wouldn't take him back. On a bet.

Playboy: Let's move to Yogi Berra. In 1985, you fired him after just sixteen games, and it has been almost six years since he has been willing to set foot in Yankee Stadium.

Steinbrenner: Yeah, I know. It's been a long time. It's too bad. I like Yogi very much. Nice person. Fine person.

Playboy: Was it a mistake to fire him?

Steinbrenner: From a fan's standpoint? Yes. From a managerial standpoint? I don't know. I don't want to rehash that. I liked Yogi very much, always did like him, will always like him.

Playboy: Would it mean a lot to you if he came back and-----

Steinbrenner: Sure.

Playboy: Forgave?

Steinbrenner: Sure it would. Absolutely. That's why we created that special day for catchers. We wanted him to come back, but he didn't. I can't change that. He knows how I feel. I've sent numerous emissaries to him.

Playboy: Then there was Bob Lemon. In 1982, you gave him just fourteen games before firing him. And that was after telling the press, "I swear on my heart, he'll be my manager all season."

Steinbrenner: Yeah. Well, Lemon. There was a period when Bob Lemon lost his son---a tragic jeep accident, I believe. He had two sons, and they were so close. I didn't see fit to put Lem through that rat-race. I could see that it was affecting him in spring training. We all saw it. He wasn't the same Lemon because of that.

Playboy: But only fourteen games? Why even start the season with him?

Steinbrenner: I forget all of the exact details---this was almost ten years ago, remember---but I don't think it was a mistake. Besides, Bob Lemon is still with me today. He's with me for life.

Playboy: But Lou Piniella isn't. Was it a mistake to fire him?

Steinbrenner: No, not at the time. [Pauses] I don't believe I gave Lou enough of a chance. OK? He was going to be a good manager, he is a good manager with Cincinnati, and he's a great person. But I think he learned from his experience with me, too. And I think he would tell you that.

Lou Piniella and I were, perhaps, too close. He was too much like a son. Look at the way he continually says, "I had to show George I could manage, I had to show the boss." That makes me feel good. It's like a left-handed compliment, a show of respect. "I want to prove to the guy that I can do it." Like you would with your dad.

Playboy: Did you ever undermine your managers in the press?

Steinbrenner: No. I was often misquoted. I was supportive of my managers, even though they all may not think so.

Playboy: What about the stories that there was a hotline from your office to the dugout?

Steinbrenner: Not so. Absolutely not so. I never called a manager in the dugout to dictate who should play or to say that he'd made a mistake.

Playboy: What about when-----

Steinbrenner: Let me just end it at that.

Playboy: But-----

Steinbrenner: I just made the statement to you. There's no sense in going on.

Playboy: On those occasions when you did fire a manager, how would you do it? What words would you use?

Steinbrenner: Well, you bring him into your office and you say, "Look, I'm going to make a change. I've made up my mind, and this is the reason I'm making the change. I think it's best right now, though I'd like you to stay with the organization. You can work in such-and-such a capacity or we can talk about what you might want to do with us." That's usually the way it would go.

Playboy: Did any of your managers ever try to talk you out of firing them?

Steinbrenner: Ah, yeah. I think Billy did on one or two occasions, but I told him I was doing it for his own good. I think Lou did, too. He said, "I'm a good manager, I can manage." And he was certainly right.

Playboy: Lou Piniella isn't the only Yankee to have found success elsewhere; there are others: Oakland's Rickey Henderson, for example.

Steinbrenner: Never should have gone! I did not make that trade! Exclamation mark, exclamation mark, exclamation mark! If [former Yankees general manager] Syd Thrift says he didn't make that trade, he's lying. I like Syd in many ways, but when he came over to the Yankees, he said. "Look, if I'm going to be G.M., I want to make the moves I need to make to build this team." I said, "You got it. The only thing I want is to be notified before you do it, so that I don't get taken by surprise by the newspapers." Later, he started talking about how we needed to get pitching, and then mentioned trading Henderson. He called me on my car phone to tell me that he was going to make the deal. I could have stopped it, but I would have been going back on what I told him he could do. If there was a mistake on my part, it was in not overruling him. But that was his damn trade and everybody in the organization knew that.

But, obviously, it was a major mistake to let Rickey go. I know that some of the coaches, including Lou Piniella, used to say that Rickey was jaking it when he had that injured hamstring. That was the word: jaking---asking to be taken out all the time. But I'm the one who went downstairs, took the team doctor aside and said. "Now, you tell me if this young man is jaking on me, because I don't think he is." And they went over his hamstring---they looked at it and felt it---and the doctor said. "He's got a bad one." So I said, "Fine. Now, I don't want to hear one more fucking word about Rickey Henderson jaking it. He isn't jaking it. You just heard it from the doctor and the trainer." I straightened their asses out in a hurry.

So, no. Rickey Henderson never laid down on me. I don't care what anybody says. He was an impact player, and he's a fine young man; as far as I'm concerned, one of the finest I've met since I've been in baseball.

Playboy: Other ex-Yankees: [Pittsburgh pitcher] Doug Drabek.

Steinbrenner: Drabek I did have something to do with. Definitely a mistake. He's the Cy Young winner. But who knew that five years ago?

Playboy: [Cincinnati pitcher] Jose Rijo.

Steinbrenner: I liked Jose. I can't remember who we traded for or how the trade was made, but that wasn't one of my deals. I mean, I'm not trying to walk away from it, but I had nothing to do with that one.

Playboy: [Former Yankees catcher] Rick Cerone.

Steinbrenner: Well, you know. Rick eventually came back to the Yankees. After we traded him, he said some awful things about me, but when Boston let him go, he called me and said, "I didn't think you'd take my call after what I said about how bad it was playing for you." I said, "Hell, you always gave me a hundred and ten percent. You played black-and-blue for me. You can say whatever you want. Now, what can I do for you?" He said. "Well, nobody wants me; it would cost them a second-round draft choice. I don't suppose you'd be interested." I said, "Get your ass to Fort Lauderdale and get into a uniform." He played great ball for us after that.

Playboy: What about Reggie Jackson? Were you sorry he got away?

Steinbrenner: I never should have let Reggie Jackson go; letting him get away was a bad deal. Someday. I'll speak about how that happened, but I don't want to right now. It was nothing between Reggie and me or Reggie and the ball club. It was an outside situation that occurred.

Playboy: What kind of outside situation?

Steinbrenner: Somebody lied. But I don't want to get into that. Today, I consider Reggie a friend, and I'd be the first guy to stand up and yell for him getting into the Hall of Fame. Yes, you can say he wasn't the best outfielder---and I know he wasn't. And maybe he didn't have the best arm---no, he didn't. And maybe he wasn't the fastest---no, he wasn't, but he wasn't slow, either. All I know is, all that sucker did was win. Everywhere. Oakland. Baltimore. New York. That, to me, is a true Hall of Famer. He could rise to the occasion. If Reggie Jackson doesn't get into the Hall of Fame, nobody should.

Playboy: But the point is, the Yankees lost him. Some of your critics charge that good players and managers got away because you didn't know baseball. When you bought the team, how much of a baseball man were you?

Steinbrenner: I had coached baseball in the Air Force, but I was principally a football coach and track man. I did play sand-lot baseball but never varsity.

Playboy: What position did you play?

Steinbrenner: Once in a while, second base; once in a while, outfield. But those were just pickup games and softball leagues. So when I bought the Yankees. I tried to stay one pace ahead of the players.

Playboy: What was the best trade you made as Yankees owner?

Steinbrenner: One or two trades stand out. The Willie Randolph trade in 1975 was a fine one for us. As I recall, we gave Pittsburgh Doc Medich and we got Randolph. Ken Brett and Dock Ellis. That was a good trade. The Cleveland Indians trade was great, too. We gave them some pitchers and they gave us some pitchers in return, plus Chris Chambliss. Everybody thought I gave away the store, but it turned out to be a good trade.

Playboy: What about your worst trade for the Yankees?

Steinbrenner: I won't say the worst, because that singles out one player and makes him feel bad. Let's talk about one that maybe didn't pan out.

Playboy: OK.

Steinbrenner: Hmmm. Let me think. In 1982, we traded Dave Collins. Mike Morgan. Fred McGriff and some cash to the Blue Jays for Dale Murray. That didn't work out. Dale was a nice young man, but I guess he'd passed his best days when we got him.

Playboy: Getting back to Reggie Jackson, in 1982, after he went to the Angels, he came to New York and hit a home run against the Yankees. That was the day fans rose and began chanting-----

Steinbrenner: "George sucks."

Playboy: "Steinbrenner sucks."

Steinbrenner: Yeah.

Playboy: In their recent book Damned Yankees, authors Bill Madden and Moss Klein say that you convened your coaches in a meeting afterward and were "literally hysterical." True?

Steinbrenner: No. Absolutely not. I left the stadium.

Playboy: They said you were ranting and rambling.

Steinbrenner: Let me tell you what they don't know: I didn't even stay. When they started the "Steinbrenner sucks." I said. "Come on, let's go, let's get out of here." I got in the car, went back into town and went to dinner. See how wrong they are? I didn't convene the coaches that night.

Playboy: So you never had a tirade about the incident?

Steinbrenner: No. Our batting coach. Charley Lau, had been telling me that Reggie was done, and the only thing I said---and I have sworn affidavits---was. "How can you tell me a guy's done, then he comes back in and buries us?" But no tirade at all.

Playboy: Madden and Klein's book points to other strange behavior. Such as the story about your firing a secretary---from an airport telephone---simply because she mixed up your plane reservations.

Steinbrenner: Yeah, that's true. It was in Cleveland. I was very rushed. I had to go on an important trip to New York and I had cautioned her for three days to make sure those reservations were in order, because I had meetings in both Cleveland and New York. I got out to the airport and they said. "Geez. Mr. Steinbrenner, we don't have you on that flight. It's sold out." Well, I was madder than hell.

Playboy: So you called her up and fired her?

Steinbrenner: Yes, and she said. "All right, I quit." But the next day, I called back and said to one of my right-hand men, "Charley, hasn't this secretary got a kid going to college?" And he says. "Well, they're hoping to send him. He graduates from high school this year." I said, "OK, pay for it." A few days later. I got back to the office in Tampa and she was sitting there at her desk. I said, "You and I had an agreement. You're gone." She said, "You didn't have to pay for my son's college education. I don't expect that." I said, "I don't care what you expect. I did it for the kid, not for you. Now, you're supposed to be out of here." She said, "I'm not leaving." I said, "I'm the boss. I can fire you." She said, "Try. I won't leave." And she's still with me today. Been with me seventeen years.

Playboy: You seem to have a history of strike-and-stroke leadership: Chewing people out or firing them, then turning around and making amends. Part bully. part Saint George.

Steinbrenner: I don't say I'm Saint George. And I don't think that's the image I have. I'm a strong-image boss. The problem is, the press generally wanted to create only that image of me: they nail you on the first strike and you're out. They don't look at the good stuff.

For instance, just today. I read where the United Appeal charity in Florida had its budget cut by twelve thousand dollars, and that money was supposed to go for care centers for our military personnel. So I called one of my guys and said. "Get ahold of the United Appeal and tell them they've got their twelve thousand dollars." The check will be in their hands tomorrow. I do this kind of thing, but the press doesn't want to know about it, because it doesn't sell newspapers. It sells newspapers when Steinbrenner fires Billy but not when Steinbrenner keeps Billy on his payroll for life, brings him back each time, tries to help him get himself going. I know that sometimes I make mistakes: I'm dead wrong. But then I go back and try to make it right.

Look, I'm not saying that I'm a calm, peaceful guy. I'm not Marian the Librarian. I'm a hard-driving guy, and sometimes I get upset.

Playboy: And is that when you become a bully?

Steinbrenner: I think at times that word could be aptly applied. But just as many times you could apply another word: compassionate.

Playboy: Or eccentric: According to another story in Damned Yankees, you occasionally dropped your pants at Yankees executive meetings to receive a shot of vitamin B-12 from Gene Monahan, the team trainer.

Steinbrenner: I did do that on one or two occasions. I would get these shots, but I didn't want to go down to the locker room, because then somebody would write, "Oh, he's down there telling Piniella what to do." So Gene Monahan would come up with a vitamin shot and, you know. I'm a man. I've been in locker rooms all my life and, shit, those guys walk around with nothing on. I'm not your typical owner. I mean, I've worn a jockstrap myself. Now, if I'm standing there and I've got my guys around me and we're talking, and Gene Monahan comes in and says. "Boss, I got your shot," I'd say, "Fine. Come on over." I'd stand up, go behind the chair, drop my drawers, he'd stick a needle in and---boom! I mean, what the fuck am I going to say? [Affects a coquettish tone] "Oh, fellows, you have to get out, he's going to give me a shot." Fuck that! Call it macho, call it what you like. I don't give a shit. Besides, I think he kind of enjoyed sticking the needle in. The guys loved to see if I would grimace. [Laughs]

Playboy: Just the same, all of these stories portray you as either off center or out of control.

Steinbrenner: Yeah, see? Fuck that stuff. Don't believe it; they lied. Sportswriters have to create sensationalism to sell their damn books. You can't sell a book unless you stretch a point. If it doesn't make Steinbrenner out to be a big ogre---if it makes him a nice guy---they don't want that, because it doesn't sell.

Playboy: It sounds like you're not very comfortable with the media.

Steinbrenner: Well, you can't always talk to the press. One of the things you people in the media do is take things out of context. The press loves to do that. To me, that's a violation of trust. I'll say a sentence and they'll pick four words and make it sound like they want it to sound. It happens over and over again.

We were in Cleveland once, and a writer comes rushing down to me and says. "What do you think about Don Mattingly? He's not doing well. He's only hitting so-so." I said, "Let me tell you something. We tend to expect miracles from Don Mattingly. He's not having a good season at this point, because we put him on such a pedestal that it makes him almost superhuman. Well, you can't expect that out of a guy every time. So, to answer your question, No, he's not having a good year." You know what the headline was? "Steinbrenner: Mattingly having Bad Year." Nothing about what was around it. A perfect example of taking things out of context to create a sensational story.

Playboy: Of course, a lot of people say that you use the media more than the media use you. Did you ever leak information to the press and ask to be quoted as a "top Yankees official"?

Steinbrenner: I won't comment on that, because there were times when I probably did. I said, "I won't have this attributed to me, but. ..." But I don't do that anymore, because I don't agree with it. It's wrong. I'm tired of "informed sources"; I'm tired of "sources close to the Yankees." I'm tired of the bullshit.

Playboy: What about the charges that you manipulated the press with your firings? The Mets are in first place, the Yankees are in fourth, so George fires a manager to get the headlines.

Steinbrenner: I did not fire managers to get the headlines. Never did. The thing is, New York's a very demanding city. You've got three tabloids battling with one another: the Post, the Daily News and Newsday---all good papers. All you have to do is walk into New York on any given day, look at the newsstand and see the headlines. All sensationalism. Some of it accurate, some of it not, but all of it meant to do one thing: sell those papers. Why do you think Darryl Strawberry left New York? Come on! The media drove him out. He's one of the great ballplayers playing the game today and he left New York because he was fed up. And I don't blame him.

Playboy: How do you feel about Bill Gallo, the Daily News cartoonist who draws you as a World War One German general?

Steinbrenner: Bill is a friend of mine; I like him very much. He whacks me---I love "General Steingrabber." I take it with a sense of humor. I think it's fun, it's funny. He can be tough, but he's fair, and I consider him a friend.

Playboy: When you appeared on Saturday Night Live, you wore the Steingrabber helmet in one sketch.

Steinbrenner: Right: that was my idea. The Saturday Night people said, "All the other guys are wearing hats and stuff, so how can we portray you? We want to portray you as Adolf Hitler." I said no to that. Then we started talking about the Steingrabber outfit and I said, "If that will help the act, good."

Playboy: One sportswriter who has been very tough on you is Mike Lupica, who was with the Daily News and is now with the National. How do you feel about him?

Steinbrenner: Mike Lupica is very hateful toward me, but I think that's because he saw it as a way to take on the biggest man he could find---and that gets you a name. As far as I could tell, he wasn't around the ball park that much, yet he wrote like he was an authority on everything that took place. I always resented that. The beat writers are guys who are around all the time, not like the guys who come only for the old-timers' game and the All-Star game---I don't put much credibility in them.

Mike is talented, and he's a good writer, but I think he made a bad mistake [leaving the Daily News]. He's not read anywhere. Nobody knows him anymore. People have forgotten Mike Lupica and, in that business, you fade in a hurry.

Playboy: Getting back to baseball on the field. You've been involved in the sport for close to a generation and met some of the greats. For instance, tell us about Earl Weaver.

Steinbrenner: Love him, Great. One of the great managers in my seventeen years in the sport. Colorful, controversial, but a hell of a baseball man and a hell of a manger.

Playboy: Did you ever try to woo him to the Yankees?

Steinbrenner: After he retired? I don't know; we may have talked to him at one point. I don't recall that. Ask me Lasorda; I'll tell you another great manager.

Playboy: Tommy Lasorda.

Steinbrenner: Great manager. Great for the game. That's the important thing about Lasorda: He's tremendous for the game---a living ambassador. He lives, cats, drinks and sleeps baseball. And he sells baseball, too.

Playboy: Jose Canseco.

Steinbrenner: I don't know much about Jose Canseco. I've heard the accusations that he used steroids, but I can't comment on that. He's awesome, though.

Playboy: Do you think twenty-three-and-a-half million dollars was too much to pay him?

Steinbrenner: I can't judge for other people. Some people are now asking me the same thing about the Dodgers' signing Darryl Strawberry. Let me say this: The Dodgers are a smart organization; I think they know what they're doing with Strawberry. It was probably a good move for them, though I'm sorry to see New York lose Darryl.

Playboy: Davey Johnson.

Steinbrenner: I like Davey Johnson as a manager. He did great things for the Mets; he manages with his own style.

Playboy: Why didn't you bring him over to the Yankees after he left the Mets?

Steinbrenner: We chose to go within our own organization, though I think Davey would certainly have to be high on anybody's candidate list.

Playboy: If you could put together an all-star Yankees team made up only of players from the Steinbrenner era, whom would you pick?

Steinbrenner: I wouldn't do it, because I'd hurt some people's feelings.

Playboy: What about just first base?

Steinbrenner: No. No. Couldn't do it.

Playboy: Second.

Steinbrenner: No, couldn't do it. Wouldn't do it.

Playboy: How about just the manager?

Steinbrenner: I wouldn't do that, either.

Playboy: One player you probably wouldn't choose is Dave Winfield---the man with whom all your recent troubles began. In 1980, Winfield joined the Yankees as a twenty-three-million-dollar free agent. Was there friction between you two from the start?

Steinbrenner: Yes, there was friction. Because, in my mind, I wasn't sure that Dave Winfield was a team player. And I think if you talk to athletes and they're honest with you, they'll probably tell you he wasn't. If Winfield went three for four and we lost the game, he would go into the locker room and say, "Hey, I did my part, man. What more can I do?" If Don Mattingly went three for four, went into the locker room and had the press question him, he'd say, "I don't care if I went three for four, we lost the ball game. That's the only thing that counts." See?

Let me ask you something: Do you think Dave Winfield was liked by his teammates?

Playboy: We wouldn't really know, but he certainly seems like the kind of guy who would be well liked.

Steinbrenner: You're nuts, if that's what you think.

Playboy: He wasn't well liked?

Steinbrenner: No.

Playboy: Can you give some specifics?

Steinbrenner: Look at the book he wrote about the Yankees toward the end of his career with them. That was a turning point. He wrote that book and Willie Randolph came to me and said, "I never said those things in the book. Those were Winfield's interpretations of something we had talked about." I said, "Hey, Willie, don't tell me. Tell those newspaper guys out there."

Playboy: Did any players besides Randolph complain

Steinbrenner: Plenty, but I'm not going to get into that.

Playboy: So here you have this guy you're paying twenty-three million dollars, you don't consider him a team player, and in his first full year with you---1981---the Yankees go to the World Series and he bats .045.

Steinbrenner: One for twenty-two.

Playboy: What was your reaction?

Steinbrenner: Well, I thought it was kind of bush when he called a time out to ask for the ball after his first hit. But the morning after the series, he did come up to my office and say, "I owe you one. I didn't do very well." I said, "Hey, we'll get 'em next year." And then he left.

Playboy: But over the next few years, you continued to take shots at him in the press. In 1982, you said, "Winfield's a good athlete, but he's no Reggie." And in 1985, you said Reggie was "Mr. October" but Winfield was "Mr. May."

Steinbrenner: In sports, you've got to be truthful, you've got to face your performance. And the truth is, Reggie always delivered in the World Series. Mr. October. Dave didn't. That doesn't mean Dave is a bad guy. He just didn't deliver.

Playboy: OK, so if Winfield's playing wasn't the real problem, what was?

Steinbrenner: Two things: Winfield's agent, Al Frohman, and the way the Winfield Foundation was being run. I had been warned about both by Winfield's former team, the San Diego Padres. [Playboy contacted the Padres and they said that they "don't recall" any such conversations.] I attributed those warnings to sour grapes, because Dave was coming over to the Yankees; but today, we regret not having listened to them.

Playboy:Were there problems with the foundation?

Steinbrenner: Well, things started to pop up that led me to believe that it wasn't being operated for the purpose that it was supposed to be: to benefit kids in New York. We had reason to believe that the money was being spent in ways that were ludicrous by any standards of a charitable foundation.

Playboy: And a lot of that money was coming from you. According to your original contract with Winfield, you were supposed to donate three hundred thousand dollars per year to the foundation, but after a while, you resisted making your contribution.

Steinbrenner: That's correct. When we started to talk about the annual contribution, the deal was that a fellow from another foundation was going to come in and run the Winfield Foundation. Then, one day, Frohman, Dave and I were meeting over coffee and I said, "Well, where is this guy? When is he coming?" And Frohman said, "He's not coming. He wanted too much money." Then I got very uneasy. I said, "What the hell do you mean, he's not coming? He's got to run the foundation." Frohman said, "Don't worry about it. We'll get somebody." I didn't like that. Ultimately, on the advice of attorneys, I started to put my contribution in escrow.

So this is the reason I don't care when people write that I was picking on Dave. I wasn't picking on Dave the ballplayer. I was picking on Dave and his agent and a foundation where funds were, in my opinion, totally, seriously misused.

Playboy: So now we come to 1986: You get an unexpected call from a man called Howard Spira. What did you know about Spira at the time?

Steinbrenner: I didn't know much about him at all. He said he'd been with [public relations at] NBC Sports, and that he was with the Winfield Foundation.

Playboy: What else did he say on the phone?

Steinbrenner: He said he had information for me concerning wrongdoing at the foundation---particularly by Al Frohman---and he wanted to see me.

Playboy: Did you agree to see him?

Steinbrenner: There was no big rush. I think the first time he called me [in Tampa], I just said, "Fine, I'll get with you sometime later on when I'm in New York." But I didn't do that and ultimately told him, "If you want to come down here, OK." It wasn't like I said, "Get down here in fifteen minutes and tell me everything you know."

Playboy: Did he tell you on the phone that he was a gambler?

Steinbrenner: When he first came in, he told me he was a former gambler.

Playboy: Spira was in the habit of taping his phone calls. According to The New York Times, on one tape, you said, "I'm anxious about what you have to tell me." Why were you?

Steinbrenner: I'm a businessman! Any time a guy tells me that something I'm putting three hundred thousand dollars a year into is possibly being ripped off---and I'd always had those suspicions, anyway---I want to know. And I defy any businessman to tell you that isn't good practice. It's perfectly legal.

Playboy: In another conversation, Spira reportedly said, "I want to get even with [Winfield]. If anyone can use the information, you can." And you responded-----

Steinbrenner: I said, "I know enough about Winfield. You don't have to tell me anything."

Playboy: Actually, you responded. "Yeah." Now, that's a little word, but it has a big meaning.

Steinbrenner: When you're talking on the phone, you don't say every single word. I don't know what that conversation was. I said, "I'll listen to what you've got to say."

Playboy: So in December 1986, you met with him. Once he told you he was a gambler-----

Steinbrenner: Former. Former.

Playboy: OK. once you had this former gambler in your office, talking about irregularities at the foundation, what did you do?

Steinbrenner: Spira came in, he sat down for about three minutes. And I said, "Wait. Don't tell me any more." I called [Steinbrenner's aide and former FBI agent] Phil McNiff, and I said, "Phil, I'm leaving this in your hands. I've got a meeting to go to. You handle it from here on."

Playboy: Why didn't you go straight to the commissioner, Peter Ueberroth?

Steinbrenner: Before going to the commissioner, I wanted to have my facts and McNiff was the best guy to handle it. I didn't have to turn it over to anybody.

Playboy: Did you meet with Spira again?

Steinbrenner: Yes. The Christmas holidays came and went and he's calling over and over again, wanting to meet with me. But I didn't want to. So in April, Spira shows up in Tampa and Phil says to me, "Will you please see him? He's down here because he wants money"---or something to that effect. I said, "Bring him in." So he comes in and I say, "Now, look, Mr. Spira, you have no promise from me. None at all. You understand that?" And he says, "I understand that, but you've got to understand my problems. My mother's sick ..." and on and on and on. I say, "When this is over, I'll sit down and listen to your problems." Period.

Playboy: What did you mean, "When this is over"?

Steinbrenner: When this whole mess was over with the foundation.

Playboy: Did you offer to pay his expenses for his trip to Tampa?

Steinbrenner: One trip when he came down, we did. I think we paid him.

Playboy: According to Spira, there was an understanding that you'd pay for his trip even before he came down.

Steinbrenner: Not that I can recall. Oh, he said a lot of things. He said I had dinner with him at the hotel. He even remembers that he had blueberry pie. I never had dinner with him there in my life. Ever.

Playboy: Still, once you found out that Spira wasn't the most savory fellow-----

Steinbrenner: I'm not going to be a character judge.

Playboy: He had a history of gambling.

Steinbrenner: Yeah, and I was worried about that.

Playboy: So why didn't you stop having anything to do with him?

Steinbrenner: Because I was worried. You know why? Here was a guy who said he was gambling more than a million dollars. Even if it was one or two or three or five hundred thousand dollars, you don't run up a tab like that with gamblers, do you? Why would the gamblers let him get away with that kind of debt? I'll tell you. What's the biggest thing gamblers need? Information. And Spira's in the locker room all the time, and I'm beginning to think, Is someone telling him things? Besides, I did tell the commissioner's office what was going on. I told 'em on numerous occasions in '87 and '88. I've got the times and dates of those meetings. And [the commissioner] told me, "Good. Just keep at it. Just keep us posted." I kept them apprised. They got everything I had. And they did nothing---they didn't warn me off of him.

Playboy: So you insist that there were no deals between you and Spira.

Steinbrenner: Nothing. In fact, the second time I met with him, I said, "Now, look! Understand one thing, Howard: No deal! I'll sit down and listen to what your problems are, but we have no deals." He asked for my advice; he wasn't asking me for money. Listen to one of my tapes where I tell him, "No job, no nothing." And in another one, he calls me and says, "Well, I'm waiting," and I say, "Waiting for what, Howard? Waiting for what? You got nothing." Now, if that isn't telling the guy off, I don't know what is.

Playboy: But you ultimately paid him forty thousand dollars.

Steinbrenner: I wanted Howard Spira to go away! Somewhere! To get away from the Yankees and get away from me! He was harassing my family; my daughters were scared; he was harassing people who were close to me. I talked to Spira eight or nine times on the phone, and some of those talks were just to tell him, "Get lost!" The idea that Dave Winfield told him to get lost and I didn't is pure bullshit!

Playboy: The evidence does suggest harassment. In May 1989, Spira wrote to McNiff saying that his mother was sick. He then wrote, "If anything happens to my mother, George and Dave had better hire a lot of extra security."

Steinbrenner: Yeah. That's a threat.

Playboy: Were you afraid?

Steinbrenner: You're damn right I was! And after that, there was a death threat at my hotel. You would be afraid, too. Now, everybody says, "Yeah, but look at Howard Spira. He's a little guy." But Sirhan Sirhan was a little guy. Lee Harvey Oswald was a little guy. Size doesn't matter when a guy's making statements like "I'll go out of control." I was scared stiff. I added extra security in my own house and my kids' houses. I even had cops driving me around. I wanted Spira out! Gone!

Playboy: Didn't you think that the money you gave Spira would just go to finance his gambling?

Steinbrenner: No. It wasn't for gambling. I told him, "Take this money, get out and start a new life for yourself."

Playboy: But you're a realistic man. You give this guy forty thousand dollars and he's either going to pay off those gamblers or gamble more.

Steinbrenner: No. No. No. Let me tell you something: He said he owed more than a million dollars. You think forty thousand dollars was going to make a difference? I told him to take the forty thousand dollars, go West and get the hell away! Start a new life. That's what I told him.

Playboy: Another troubling question is why the forty thousand dollars wasn't drawn on George Steinbrenner's checking account. [The money was first given to the law firm of Gold & Wachtel in New York, and then two checks were issued to Spira.]

Steinbrenner: It was done legally and properly. With a paper trail.

Playboy: But it was done surreptitiously.

Steinbrenner: No, not surreptitiously. Absolutely not.

Playboy: The money was first given to Gold and-----

Steinbrenner: Wait a minute! Wait a minute! Just be quiet a minute, because this is the last question! I said to my lawyers, "Handle it, but make sure there's a paper trail, and make sure it's done legally and properly." And it was done legally and properly!

Playboy: Why didn't you just write a check on your own?

Steinbrenner: I was in Tampa and he was in New York. I wanted it done with a paper trail so that he would have to pay his taxes. He didn't want to pay his taxes!

OK, that's all. I don't have any more time.

Playboy: There are a couple of other details we'd like to get into-----

Steinbrenner: I don't think we can.

Playboy: We still didn't get into the Sports Illustrated stuff.

Steinbrenner: Well, I'll do Sports Illustrated now and nothing else.

Playboy: All right. Last October, Sports Illustrated published an extensive story casting real doubt on how baseball conducted its investigation of you. The article maintained that while Fay Vincent's ruling was justified, his office overlooked serious evidence of wrongdoing on the part of Frohman and Winfield.

Steinbrenner: This S.I. article was devastating, yet all the commissioner has said is that it was irrelevant and that the magazine was being used. Now, Sports Illustrated is not one of George Steinbrenner's friends---they've taken good chunks out of me---but they've brought up an awful lot of charges that the commissioner is going to have to answer.

Playboy: Such as that the commissioner's office supposedly knew that Spira and Albert Whitton, Frohman's chauffeur, were allegedly associated with Mobsters Joe Caridi and Al Grecco.

Steinbrenner: And they did nothing.

Playboy: Why?

Steinbrenner: I don't know. They won't answer the question. Why doesn't some enterprising reporter ask Fay Vincent, "Why won't you answer these questions? Why do you keep covering up and saying it's irrelevant, it's imbecilic? Why don't you answer the questions, Commissioner?"

[The commissioner's office told Playboy that it had "no intention of commenting further" on the Steinbrenner case.]

Playboy: What about the allegations that Winfield himself lent Spira fifteen thousand dollars?

Steinbrenner: I don't think they would print that if they didn't know it to be true. The fifteen thousand dollars was a strange thing. According to Sports Illustrated, Winfield said, "I never gave Spira any money," but then [Spira] went public with the check with Winfield's signature on it. So then Winfield said something like, "Oh, yeah. Well, I don't know about that. I may have signed it. I sign a lot of checks." Now, come on! You don't sign a fifteen-thousand-dollar check to some guy if you don't know what it's for!

What strikes me about the Sports Illustrated article is how they insist they stand by their story. As if they're inviting someone to come out and challenge them. Pretty soon, somebody's got to say. "Commissioner, did you or did you not know all of this? And, if so, why didn't you do something about it?"

Playboy: Do the people in the commissioner's office just want you to go away?

Steinbrenner: I don't know. Maybe. I have no way of knowing what's in their minds, but it certainly appears that way. You've got media that don't like George Steinbrenner, but why aren't they looking into some of these things? Reporters like Murray Chass of the Times, who say they're so holy and cover all the news that's fit to print---why don't the Murray Chasses out there make Fay Vincent answer some of those questions raised by Sports Illustrated?

Playboy: OK, let's move on. You often speak about your professional relationships in a very paternal way. Lou Piniella, you said, was like a son to you. And when Gene Michael was managing the Yankees, and he criticized you in the press, you said, "I feel like a father being scorned."

Steinbrenner: Yeah, that's true.

Playboy: And in talking about Billy Martin, you once said you would "make a better man out of him."

Steinbrenner: And Billy was older than I was.

Playboy: Right. Overall, do you think this is the best way for an employer to speak of his employees?

Steinbrenner: No, not always; but what I was trying to say is that I cared about them like a father would for a son. I wanted to see them do well. Maybe that wasn't the best approach, but I can't change the way I am. I mean, you can't create the perfect race horse, you can't create the perfect athlete, the perfect politician, the perfect teacher or the perfect businessman or boss. That's why we're human. I'm nowhere near perfect. So, OK, I did feel paternal toward those guys. And I think they must have known it.

Playboy: Did you have a good relationship with your father?

Steinbrenner: Oh, I loved my father. He was a tough boss, a tough guy, a tough businessman. He was a difficult perfectionist, in a way, who always sought excellence. And he so often achieved it that it put added pressure on the kids. Of course, being the only son, a lot of that pressure fell on me. He was very demanding and he left an indelible mark on me.

Playboy: One of your Williams College classmates said, "The key to George's desire to succeed is that he's driven to exceed his father's successes."

Steinbrenner: I don't think I ever could exceed my father's successes. He was a completely satisfied man, he knew what he wanted to accomplish and he accomplished it. I did do a lot, though, to try to please him.

Playboy: There's the story about how you were at a college track-and-field event and won two races-----

Steinbrenner: And the first thing my father wanted to know was why I didn't win the third one. "How did you let that last guy beat you?"

Playboy: True story?

Steinbrenner: Yeah, it's true. It was a big meet and he came up to me and said, "Now, when you made that turn, you should have ..." so-and-so. But he was that way. He believed that you learn more from your failures than from your successes. And it's a great lesson to carry, because if you're smart, you do learn more from your failures.

Playboy: Is it also true that your father made you tend chickens and sell their eggs to get your pocket money?

Steinbrenner: Yeah, I raised chickens. My dad wanted to teach me the value of a dollar. I came from a fairly affluent family, but he was a strong believer that, no matter what you had, you had to be taught to work hard. So I raised chickens and sold the eggs on a daily basis. I'd look in the paper, just as he taught me, to see what the price of eggs per dozen was that day---triple-A's, double-A's, single-A's. I'd gather the eggs and deliver them the next morning: then I'd shower and get ready to go to school. I remember one time I went to school accidentally carrying two eggs in my jacket and they squashed in my pockets. I can remember little things like that.

Playboy: In 1957, you went to work for your father in the family shipping business. How was that?

Steinbrenner: Tough working for your father. Tough for anybody who works for his father, because your father tends to be more demanding. He put me to work on the ships like an ordinary deck hand. I'm sure he told the first mate, "Give him every tough job you've got; there is no sacred cow here"---because I did get every tough job they had on the ship. If somebody had to paint in the forepeak, it was me. If somebody had to crawl in the inner bottoms, it was me. In the winter, the ships would go in dry dock because the lakes would freeze, and I'd have to go under the ships and count the loose rivets. If I was ten rivets off. I'd have to go back and do it again, no matter how cold it was. And I had to keep my mouth shut. But I learned the business from the bottom up.

Playboy: While you were working for your father, you bought the Cleveland Pipers, an industrial-league basketball team. Supposedly, you kept a secret phone in your desk drawer to conduct Pipers business.

Steinbrenner: Yeah, I did, because my father thought I should concentrate on the ship business. And he was right. I was working for him.

Playboy: The Pipers gave you your first athletic championship but also your first business failure. How did your father react when the team folded?

Steinbrenner: He was tough. He said, "Now you learn. You fail financially, so you get yourself out of it." He could have helped, but he said, "Get yourself out." That taught me a great lesson. I paid back every single person who was owed in that bankruptcy. You can go back to Cleveland and ask around: even a guy who had a little bill for a hundred dollars---he was paid off.

Playboy: Where did you get the money?

Steinbrenner: I went out and bought a ship called La Belle and told all the creditors, "You'll have to wait, but if you do, you're not going to get just five cents or ten cents on the dollar, you're going to get a hundred cents on the dollar." And I took La Belle's earnings and did pay off every one of those debts.

Playboy: Ultimately, your father retired, you bought up the company and lured him back out of retirement to work for you. Was that a comfortable situation?

Steinbrenner: He was the type of man who never worked for you. He was your father. I never went in and said, "Dad, do this" or "Do that." I'd go in and say, "Dad, what do you think about this? What can we do?" I really needed him.

Playboy: When you bought the Yankees in 1973, your father was quoted as saying, "It's the first smart thing he's ever done."

Steinbrenner: I'm not sure he said that. But he did say it was a very smart move.

Playboy: There's a big difference between "a very smart move" and "the first smart thing."

Steinbrenner: I never heard him say it that way. Maybe he said, "It's one of the smart moves he's made." Something like that. But not the other way.

No. when I bought the Yankees, he had a real sense of pride. Hell, he was all over the place in the Seventies when the Yankees started winning. And certainly, when we won that first championship in '77---that was one of the high points of his life. He told me that.

Playboy: Let's wrap up with a few of the current issues facing major-league baseball today. How do you feel about expansion?

Steinbrenner: There is a need to bring baseball to more people if they want it. Now, if somebody says, "Well, we want to bring another team into New York," no way. It's crazy. There are two teams here already. But at the same time, you've got Arizona and Florida sitting out there with no teams at all. And I've always felt that Washington, D.C., should have a team, too. It seems strange to me that the nation's capital doesn't have the American sport anymore.

Of course, expansion does water down your talent a little bit.

Playboy: Should baseball implement a wild-card-team play-off system?

Steinbrenner: Yes, I would like to see that. Look at the interest it stirs up in football. Sure, from an aesthetic standpoint, you can say that it's not right for a four-and-seven football team to even have a shot at the play-offs, but think about what it does for the sport. It keeps people in Green Bay excited about their team. But in baseball, by the Fourth of July, eighty percent of the teams don't have a chance. That's not what the American public wants. That's not what they'll buy. Don't talk to me about aesthetics or tradition. Talk to me about what sells and what's good right now. And what the American people like is to think the underdog still has a chance.

Playboy: Even if he is under .500.

Steinbrenner: Right.

Playboy: What about the designated hitter?

Steinbrenner: It's important. I think it keeps people in the game who would otherwise be gone---guys like Reggie Jackson, who can play productively for an extra two or three years. Lots of people go to ball games to see players like Jackson. Those guys are more apt to put asses in the seats---fannies in the seats---than the newcomers.

Playboy: Would you like to see the D.H. extended to the National League?

Steinbrenner: Sure. But the National League has to run its own show and the traditionalists are against it.

Playboy: How do you feel about women in the locker room?

Steinbrenner: Janie Gross from The New York Times was one of the first female sportswriters, and we handled it. We told our people, "Look, these ladies are trying to make a living. I might not want my own daughter doing it, but if this is what they want to do, then try to behave like gentlemen. Try to keep wrapped with a towel; don't make it uncomfortable for them." But, by the same token, if a guy is trying to get dressed and she's standing right there, he can certainly say, "Would you excuse me for just a few minutes while I get my pants on?"

Of course, another question is why women's tennis and golf don't allow men in the locker room. They don't allow anybody in the locker room, because they don't want to be faced with that problem. I'd like to be the first male reporter who tries to get into the women's-tennis locker room. [Laughs]

Playboy: What about minority recruitment in the front office and on the coaching staffs?

Steinbrenner: Well, the Yankees have never paid any attention to quotas or to whether an athlete is black, white, yellow or what. Elston Howard was a coach for me, as you know. And back when I owned the Pipers. I hired John McClendon, the first black professional basketball coach. As far as the front office is concerned, if people apply and they're (concluded on page 171)George Steinbrenner(continued from page 80) good, they've got the job. I never notice one way or the other whether someone is black or white.

"I don't want to be seen strictly as a baseball guy---as one-dimensional---because I don't feel that I am."

Playboy: How do you feel about baseball's drug policy?

Steinbrenner: We've got a problem. If they try to sweep it under the rug, it's wrong. It doesn't do us any good to ignore it and say it doesn't exist, because it does exist. When Ueberroth said. "Baseball has solved its drug problem," it was just not so. This is the number-one sickness in America today and we can't make light of it, because it's there in huge numbers.

Playboy: If a player is suspended for life for drugs, then cleans up for a year, do you think he should be reinstated---like football's Dexter Manley?

Steinbrenner: I don't think that anybody should be suspended for life for anything, other than murder. How is it helping someone to say, "You're done forever, your life's over"?

Playboy: Which brings us back to you. What does the future hold for George Steinbrenner?

Steinbrenner: We'll have to see. You know, I'm sixty years old. I'm getting up there. I want to start to enjoy my life a little. I wasn't going to stay on as general partner forever: seventeen and a half years is a long time battling the media and everything else. Of course, I'm not saying that I wouldn't like to be exonerated and see this whole thing resolved.

Playboy: If the agreement with Fay Vincent could be overturned now, would you resume your former position with the Yankees?

Steinbrenner: You mean if I was in Utopia? I don't know. I might for a while, until one of my sons was ready. It's time, though, for the young man to come on. The old man's tired.

Playboy: How do things look with your position on the Olympic committee?

Steinbrenner: I'm still a vice-president. We all sat down and talked and I said, "You know, with the television cameras and the news media all over the place, it would be best for me to case off for a while, because the focus should be on the athletes and not on George Steinbrenner." But I'm still a vice-president and that's a major part of my life now.

[As we went to press, the U.S. Olympic Committee resolved to allow Steinbrenner to resume participation with U.S.O.C. affairs after having placed him in an "inactive status" last August.]

Playboy: Have you ever thought of writing a book?

Steinbrenner: I may. I know a hell of a lot of people who would want that book. But the proceeds wouldn't go to George Steinbrenner---they'd go to help education in this country. Kids and education are what my whole life is about right now. A pet peeve of mine is that we give away billions of dollars a year in foreign aid when we can't properly educate, clothe, house and feed every American child. We've made it safe for a man to walk on the moon, but not for a kid to walk on the street.

Kids are our greatest natural resource---greater than oil, greater than gas, greater than coal. That's why I personally underwrite the Whitney Young Classic, an annual football game that helps provide scholarships for literally hundreds of underprivileged children. Also, every year. I have a Christmas party in Florida for underprivileged children. We take two thousand kids to a big concert hall and give them gift packages---Yankees stuff---then bring in entertainment. It lets those kids know that somebody cares about them. It may cost me a lot of money, but I do it every year, because it's important every year.

Playboy: You're known for that kind of charity---even people such as Dave Winfield concede that you're a very philanthropic man---yet you've never made a big show of it. Why?

Steinbrenner: Well, I don't wear it on my sleeve. When you do something good for somebody and more than two people know about it, you didn't do it for the right reason. Last summer, for example. I gave ten thousand dollars that was needed to keep a playground running. At the time. I told them absolutely no publicity. But I've been taking so much lambasting lately that I don't care who knows now.

Before. I didn't give a damn, but now I want people to know there are two sides to George Steinbrenner. I don't want to be seen strictly as a baseball guy---as one-dimensional---because I don't feel that I am. That's why I did Saturday Night Live. I'm tired of my kids' suffering. I don't want them thinking that there wasn't at least as much good in their father's life as all the bad they've heard. I'd like people to understand that I'm a guy who has spent a lot of his life doing hands-on community work and caring about people---young people, old people. In the end, I'll put my good acts up against those of anybody in this country. Anybody.

"People keep coming up to me and asking, 'How does it feel to be banned for life?' That's bullshit. I wasn't banned for life."