They stood in line as usual, waiting a little longer than usual to be let in. While in line the old union rep came around to say that the contract was signed, that he had settled for the same 17 per cent cut as the last two years, for another three years.

And it didn't take long for the word to get out that the union's recently elected union rep--who was more militant than the old rep--was no longer working, having been fired sometime during the Astro series.

It is hard to pinpoint exactly why a group so united in outrage as the vendors that first Saturday night could be so contented in complacency 20 days later. Many of the more active strikers went back to college, others were no longer fascinated with the thrill of labor-management confrontations.

But the root of the problem lay in how easy it was for both management and union to manipulate the vendors. About half the vendors work at the stadium only for college spending money and it was easy for these students to pass up a few surplus dollars at the end of a lucrative season. But the other half, the career vendors, couldn't afford to return to the picket line and forfeit a possible $200-300 during a long homestand work stoppage.

With a job that requires no skills beyond a healthy chest x-ray, the employer could have fired the whole lot that Sunday morning, and hired enough beer and dog men to work the next homestand without any difficulty.

Many of the vendors on those waning days of the pennant race contented themselves with the knowledge that they had the solidarity and the guts to walkout on one of the biggest nights of the season and they they really stood up to the employer and screamed right into the boss's face. But when the Phillies come north from Florida next spring, and the same conditions exist as last year, that Saturday night strike will be of little consolation.