War on the Basepaths Page 20
“The kidding did an awful lot to spur me on to greater efforts,” Cobb explained. “Those fellows in the stands were telling me that I was a false alarm and a joke and that I wasn’t even a good bush leaguer, really were friends in disguise because their joshing always made me try to show them the errors of their opinion. Ordinary spoofing by the fans was all right. It acted as an incentive for me.”1
Cobb took much of the teasing in stride. His spring training appearances after his early 1908 holdout caused some fervor, for instance, and one of his admirers in Memphis sarcastically referred to his exorbitant salary request by yelling, “The $5,000 beauty, eh? Strike him out!”2 Fans in Cleveland pestered him unmercifully during the 1910 Chalmers automobile competition, convinced that their own, Nap “Larry” Lajoie, was going to prevail. One rambunctious spectator told Cobb, following a strikeout, “You can be Larry’s chauffeur!”3 Cobb’s thin skin thickened as years passed and a genial smile in response to the taunts quickly defused the weight of whatever was being said. From time to time, he’d give a little bow or doff his cap in acknowledgment of the clamoring and devotees were simultaneously enraged and overjoyed by his reply. But there were also times that Cobb wasn’t able to gesture jokingly and laugh it off.
The early going of the 1912 campaign was decidedly irritating to Cobb and, during a heated series against the Highlanders in New York, his temper flared. He bickered with third baseman Cozy Dolan in the opener and was the recipient of howls from jokers behind the Detroit dugout for three-straight days.4 The fourth and final game was played on Wednesday, May 15, and the loud antagonists were again in attendance. From the moment Cobb stepped onto the field, they made their presence known and it was nearly impossible for anyone around the third base line to ignore their colorful language.5 In the second inning, to make matters worse, Cobb bobbled a base hit by Dolan and opened the floodgates for his tormentors to ridicule him. The mistake flushed Cobb with anger, but he didn’t respond outwardly.
In the midst of the unruly crew was one man in particular, Claude Lucker (Claudian Northrup Lucker), a thirty-one-year-old law clerk originally from South Carolina.6 Cobb recognized him as someone who’d picked on him in previous trips to New York and felt he was the main agitator. In fact, he told Lucker the summer before to go elsewhere with his wicked commentary because he (Cobb) was “only human” and saw “no justice” in the way he was treating him.7 Nonetheless, Lucker and his associates were amused by the spectacle and kept up their shenanigans. Cobb was slowly losing his cool, but instead of immediately flying off the handle, he did two proactive things to avoid trouble. For one, he remained in the outfield when his team was at bat one inning because he knew he wasn’t due up. Thus, he didn’t have to walk by the hooligans and hear further abuse.
Additionally, after the third inning, he walked toward the New York dugout looking for a representative of Highlanders’ management, hoping to get Lucker tossed out. No one was found, and Cobb returned to the Tigers’ bench. As he made his way over to prepare for the top of the fourth, he received yet another barrage of comments, including one statement calling him a “half-nigger.”8 In reaction, Cobb later said, “Something seemed to snap within me. A blind, unreasoning fury engulfed me. Just what happened in the next two or three minutes I know only from hearsay, because from the moment that I lost absolute control of my temper, I remember nothing until I was climbing back into the field. But spectators saw me hurdle into the bleachers, seek out the tormentor and pummel him.”9
Of course, the tormentor on the receiving end of the ballplayer’s wrath was Lucker. Cobb sprung into the crowd and rushing toward the man in the alpaca coat sitting in the third row.10 He didn’t waste any time and there were no words, apologies, or threats of suspension that could have shaken him from his path. In tow were members of the Detroit ball club, all of whom were carrying bats, and on a specific mission to protect Cobb from any outside interference. They wanted him to get revenge on his verbose enemy and Cobb, completely overcome with rage, unleashed a blistering assault.
“He let out with his fist and caught me on the forehead, over the left eye,” Lucker explained after the incident. “You can see the big lump over there now. I was knocked over and then he jumped me. He spiked me in the left leg and kicked me in the side. Then he booted me behind the left ear. While I was down and Cobb was kicking me someone in the crowd shouted, ‘Don’t kick him. He is a cripple and has no hands!’ Then I heard Cobb say: ‘I don’t care if the ***** has no feet!’ I was pretty well bruised up and covered with blood when Cobb was through with me.”11
Prior to the attack, Cobb had no idea that Lucker had suffered the loss of one hand and three fingers from his other in a newspaper press accident. It wasn’t until he got up close that he noticed Lucker’s right hand in his pocket, and Cobb worried that the man was going to withdraw a gun.12 So he struck hard and fast, quickly gaining the advantage in what was a one-sided fight. Patrons yelled and strained to get a better view of the amazing sight, as police and umpires worked to regain order. Cobb was tossed from the game but remained in the dugout until the seventh inning, when he emerged to walk across the diamond to the clubhouse. The Detroit Free Press reported that “fully 80 percent” of the audience “cheered and clapped” for him, an unusual display in light of what happened.13
“I am exceedingly sorry that this happened,” Cobb said afterward. “I know that the publicity I will receive will be extremely distasteful to my wife and family and it is of them I am thinking. I think the provocation was sufficient to justify my action, no matter how much I may regret the encounter.”14
The awareness of the fact that Cobb was goaded into action prevented an all-out blitz by the New York audience and probably stopped what normally would have been a full-scale riot. Cobb wasn’t ripped to shreds by the press in subsequent days, and instead, a dialogue was opened about a culture of rowdyism toward players by obscene spectators.15 The lack of security at the Highlanders’ Hilltop Park was not only blasted for the relentless verbal attack on Cobb, but for a violent barrage of bottles thrown at umpire “Silk” O’Loughlin a few days earlier.16 Cleveland pundit Henry P. Edwards put the onus on President Ban Johnson to “take the lead in having these abusive spectators squelched in some manner, by removal from the parks, if necessary,” all in effort to ensure the purity of baseball.17
Johnson’s priority at the time, needless to say, wasn’t a universal league edict protecting players from overbearing fans, but essentially figuring out a way to deal with Cobb. He couldn’t abide players jumping into the crowd to fight enthusiasts no matter the reasoning and issued an indefinite suspension the next day.18 For those who were pro-Cobb, the punishment was harsher than anticipated. They felt a fine was better served, primarily because of the extenuating circumstances, and considered Johnson’s summary banishment, without an investigation and hearing, unjust. Cobb agreed wholeheartedly. He wanted his version of the story officially on the record and opposed any form of reprimand prior to a thorough inquiry.19 Nineteen members of the Detroit Tigers, including many guys who were rumored to be at odds with Cobb at one time or another, stood by his side, and threatened to strike if he wasn’t reinstated immediately.20
Although Johnson disciplined Cobb precipitously, he went forward with an investigation, and planned to announce a further decision with regard to his playing status. In the interim, the Tigers went to Philadelphia for a game on May 17, and Cobb watched from the stands as his mates beat the Athletics, 6–3.21 But once it was determined that his suspension wasn’t going to be lifted, the entire Tigers roster followed through with their threat and went on strike in unprecedented fashion. They adjourned to the upper pavilion and watched a make-shift squad of nine amateurs, two former professionals, and Hugh Jennings face the Athletics on May 18. Jennings had little other choice but to quickly form the replacement team to avoid massive fines because of forfeiture, and his unit was battered by Philadelphia, 24–2.22
The baseball world was in a state
of turmoil, and newspaper writers could barely keep up with all the various points of view. Cobb was vigorously defended by his friends in both Detroit and Georgia, and former Washington Senators manager Joe Cantillon said he would have done the same thing in response to a raucous fan.23 White Sox owner Charles Comiskey was more subdued in his reaction, telling a reporter that players had always been subjected to the kind of abuse Cobb suffered, going back to when he was active, decades earlier. “It seems to be a part of the game,” Comiskey added.24 The Sporting News, in an editorial, opposed the players’ strike, calling it Cobb’s “Rebellion,” and likened the star athlete to Caesar, asserting that he be “dealt with” for the sake of Organized Baseball.25
Cobb was humbled by the support he received from his Tigers teammates, but the situation as a whole, he felt, wasn’t one of vanity or to protect his reputation.26 He saw it as an opportunity to force change in the way that all players across the majors were treated by fans. On May 20, he convinced his fellow players to return to the field, illustrating his concern for their future in baseball, plus the interests of owner Frank Navin, and successfully put an end to their hiatus. The next day, the real Detroit team played at Washington and won, 2–0. Cobb, however, remained suspended through May 25, as Johnson’s punishment ultimately lasted ten days. He was handed a $50 fine and the controversy was seemingly put to bed as players and writers returned their focus to the 1912 pennant race.27
There was a serious residual complexity stemming from the onslaught of Lucker, one that put Cobb’s well-being in jeopardy. The New York Sun reported in July, ahead of Detroit’s first series in the city since the incident ,that associates of the Sirocco Gang were seeking revenge for the damage inflicted on their friend.28 Additionally, Cobb was privately warned by a reliable informant of potential danger, and the combination of sources only fueled his concern. Heeding the words of caution, he took “certain means” to safeguard himself, presumably by carrying a firearm.29 Extra police were on hand when the Tigers played the Highlanders at the Hilltop on July 9, and a Detroit report, instead of commenting on a rain of disapproval, stated, “No player ever received [a] greater ovation” than Cobb.30 Apparently the fans forgave Cobb’s indiscretions.
A few months later, an incident in Detroit caused some to wonder whether New York goons were going to great lengths to extract vengeance. This happened on an August evening, and Cobb was initially en route to the train station to meet up with teammates for a late night excursion to Syracuse, New York, to play an exhibition match up. Driving along Trumbull Street with Charlie by his side, he was beckoned to stop by three half-drunken and disorderly men. “Thinking that I might have hit somebody, I did so and got out of the machine,” Cobb explained. He quickly ascertained from the disposition of the trio that trouble was ahead, and yearned to get back into his vehicle and leave. But the men instigated a physical conflict and Cobb had no choice but to defend himself and his wife.
Cobb added: “I sailed in and as I did so, two of the men recognized me and made no effort to fight. In fact, they tried to stop the row, but I wasn’t going to let the fellow who had hit me get away without something in return, so I gave him a whipping, and I reckon beat him up pretty badly. At any rate, after I had knocked him down, he reached over my shoulder and inflicted a slight wound in my back with a knife, hardly more than a scratch. This was the only hurt I received. All of the men apologized to me and the one that I had whipped got down on his knees trying to square things. I got back into my machine, reassured Mrs. Cobb, who was badly frightened, and went on down to the depot, where I took the train with the rest of the boys.”31
Receiving a wound a quarter of an inch deep in his upper back, near his shoulder, Cobb was not seriously injured. Upon arriving in Syracuse, he was treated by a physician at the Yates Hotel, and given two stitches. But since he departed Detroit shortly after the attack, no official police report was filed, nor did anyone know who his attackers were. Venturing to guess, Cobb said, “There is no connection between this fracas and the trouble that I had in New York in May, so far as I know.”32 It was later revealed that Cobb quarreled with a newsboy named “Scabby” over a craps game in the clubhouse of the Tigers sometime prior to the attack. Cobb concluded that his assailants were associates of the newsboy and, outside the St. Claire Hotel in Detroit, he found “Scabby” and “gave him a beating.”
On the field, Cobb was having another banner year. He garnered 14 hits in 19 plate appearances during two doubleheaders at Philadelphia in July, but sportswriter Jim Nasium complained that Ty was stepping forward out of the batter’s box while swinging at the ball against Philadelphia pitchers, thus, gaining an advantage.33 Things didn’t change much through the remainder of the season, and Cobb finished with a .409 average, leading the majors once again. With 226 hits, he tied “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, but his 61 stolen bases were distinctively less than the leader, Clyde Milan of the Senators, who set a new American League record with 88. Notably, Cobb topped the majors in being caught stealing 34 times. As a team, the Tigers won only 69 games, and it marked the lowest win-total since Cobb had been with the club. Detroit finished in sixth place and was more than 36 games out of first when the season concluded.34
Even before the end of the 1912 campaign, rumors widely circulated that Cobb was seeking a new three-year contract from Navin at $15,000 per annum. While Cobb acknowledged that he was looking for a raise from his previous salary, he denied the new amount reported by the press. Nevertheless, his request of $12,000 made Navin wince and recoil.35 Citing a bad financial year as a result of the poor performance of his team, the Tigers’ owner was not only going to reject the salary demands of Cobb, but Sam Crawford as well. “The Detroit baseball club is not the Standard Oil Company,” he exclaimed. “I know what we can pay Ty without bankrupting the club and I do not intend to go any higher.”36
Cobb believed his high-level of success warranted a raise and decided to play a psychological card in his negotiations by mentioning a series of financial opportunities that would take him away from the game of baseball. “If the club will not meet my terms,” he said, “I will stay out of the game for I have several propositions that look attractive and believe that I can make a lot of money outside of the diamond.” One of the most lucrative job offerings called for him to purchase cotton in southern states for a New York corporation at $10,000 a year.37 His love of baseball was well established, but the salary question was fast becoming a matter of principle, and since Navin appeared unmovable on the subject, a lengthy holdout was guaranteed. Cobb put the debate out of his mind and took his family to Augusta for the winter. In early 1913, he joined the always colorful Rube Waddell for a hunting trip in Kentucky.
To strengthen his conditioning, Cobb formed an All-Georgia barnstorming squad, teaming with, at times, Nap Rucker, Tommy McMillan, Ducky Holmes, and a majority of amateurs. On March 24, his team was trounced by Brooklyn, 7–1, in Augusta, and a few days later, they were also defeated by Atlanta.38 The series of embarrassing losses were made even worse when Cobb’s nine was topped by a rural outfit of collegians and locals at Anderson, South Carolina. The losses, combined with being a full-fledged holdout at odds with his club, undoubtedly made Cobb much edgier than usual. A baggage handler in Athens, Georgia, felt his wrath over a petty amount of money due to stow his dog on a train headed for Royston. Cobb went too far by threatening the worker, but the latter, unconcerned, was said to have reached for a “lump” in his pocket, apparently a weapon, and got Cobb to back down.39
All things considered, it wasn’t surprising that Cobb’s temper flared again during the barnstorming tour, but his row with a collegiate player in South Carolina was risky and could’ve ended in bloodshed of the worst kind. On April 5, 1913, his team appeared in Spartanburg to face Wofford College on their home grounds. The exhibition was exceptionally heated, despite its inconsequentiality, and Cobb was determined more than ever to win. At one juncture, he slammed into a rival player standing in the baseline and sent
him to the dirt in a heap. Garnering two hits and two stolen bases, he led his team to victory, 9–8. But during the ninth inning, he had a few cross words for Rutledge Osborne, an eighteen-year-old second baseman for Wofford.40
Osborne was not necessarily large for his age, but was an athlete of local repute. He’d soon captain his school’s football team and star at quarterback. He was also a member of the South Carolina National Guard and not the kind of guy to be easily intimidated. That was confirmed when he let Cobb know that he disapproved of his roughhouse tactics, shouting from the coaches’ box while the major leaguer was on the mound. Cobb was offended, of course, by the audacity of the youngster, and told him to quiet down. He then offered to settle matters after the game. But as the final out was recorded, Osborne’s friends and police swarmed the field and prevented any impromptu boxing.41
It was a coincidence that Cobb’s aggregation and the Wofford squad were headed to Greenville, South Carolina, the following Monday, for both teams were booked to play Furman University. Osborne, according to his statement, heard through the grapevine that Cobb was still looking to resolve their differences, and packed a loaded .32 caliber revolver in his luggage for the Greenville trip. As expected, Cobb confronted him, coaxed him into a second floor room at the hotel, and proceeded to strike the first blow. Osborne withdrew his weapon, only to have it yanked away by one of Cobb’s teammates, and suffered a severe beating.42 Another side of the story claimed Osborne was mouthing off at the hotel, looking for a fight, and that Cobb didn’t resort to physicality until the pistol was revealed. Either way, Cobb brawling with a teenager, regardless of the reason, didn’t exactly fit the expected character of the nation’s top ballplayer.
Spring training for the Tigers went on at Gulfport, Mississippi, without Cobb, and Navin held firm in denying any boost in salary for the 1913 season. The ramifications of his absence were felt at the box office and sportswriters continued to wonder who would crack first, the stubborn player or owner. Navin was empowered by the theory that he was acting in the interests of all major league owners by refusing such a huge monetary demand, figuring it would set a precedent that would corrupt baseball.43 “Mr. Cobb did not make baseball,” Navin said venomously, “baseball made him. He has grown to believe that his greatness precludes his being a subject to discipline. In the past I have patiently put up with a great deal from Cobb. It has now reached a point where there must be a show-down.”44