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What's Featherbedding? Last week Petrillo was his old peppery self. "You know," he said, "music salaries have gone up at least 200% since I became president [of Local 10] in 1923. I remember I played from 8 to 3 on Saturday night in the Belmont ballroom. Five bucks. Now you'd get 20. But what we're looking for is work. If the salary is $300 a week and no one is working, that don't mean a thing to me." Did he approve of featherbedding? He snorted. "What is featherbedding? We have a rule you have to have 15 men at a banquet at the Palmer House. I Say they want twelve. We have the right to make a minimum, just like they got a right to say they just want twelve."
Would he pose with his trumpet? "I'll pose with it," said Petrillo, "but I won't touch the mouthpiece. These goddam germs." (His phobia against germs is so strong that he will only touch pinkies when introduced; legend has it that in his long career he has shaken hands with only two people: Harry Truman and Celeste Holm.) Suddenly, he tired of the questions. "I wish you guys would get the hell out of here so I could get a bottle of beer." Then he looked at the trumpet lying on the desk. Said Little Caesar: "Good thing I don't have to go back to that trumpet, boy."