War on the Basepaths Read online

  In 1927, Ty Jr. was enrolled in the Hun School of Princeton, a college prep school, and it didn’t take long for coaches to recognize his athletic abilities. He was named captain of the tennis squad and helped capture interscholastic tournament honors. Two years later, he entered the exclusive Hill School at Pottstown, Pennsylvania, and then advanced to Yale University in 1930, where he continued to play both tennis and football. Standing better than 6 feet and weighing around 185 pounds, he was a natural sportsman in every endeavor. James C. Isaminger of the Philadelphia Inquirer wrote about him, stating, “Ty is a clean cut, fine-looking and quick-spoken young man, who is a real credit to his father and mother.” And in terms of looks, “he does not look unlike his distinguished father.”49

  But the similarities between father and son caused them to clash repeatedly, until the final straw was broken in 1933. The argument was about money, according to The Sporting News, and as a result, Senior stopped paying tuition, causing Junior to drop out of Yale. The latter remained in New Haven and began working for a coal and coke organization, all too prepared to finance his own way through college.50 The two severed all ties, refusing to talk to one another, and Senior blamed Charlie for the unruly behavior of their children. However, it has been alleged that Cobb spitefully sold all of the stock he’d saved up for Junior after their falling out, but that wasn’t true. He kept 1,005 shares of General Motors, 200 of Coca Cola, and 170 of Kelsey Wheel, and although he maintained power of attorney to get rid of the stock, Cobb held on to the shares for his namesake despite their quarrel.51

  While Cobb retained a sense of stubbornness, an old characteristic, toward his son, he continued to evolve. Before a gathering of baseball folks in San Francisco on February 5, 1934, he delivered a speech, and was surprisingly reflective. “You know, I may have had the wrong idea when I was a kid,” he explained. “My single purpose was to win ball games and I was willing to fight to win them. But as I look back now I can see many grand characters, many loveable fellows whose friendship I would cherish now. I guess I won a lot of ball games all right, but I wish they had been friends instead. If I had it to do all over again, I think I would be different.”52 The news corps immediately picked up on the story, adjusting his quote to read, “If I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t take baseball so seriously.”53

  His comments drew plenty of response, including Bill Dooley of the Philadelphia Record, who said: “It required Ty a long time to see the light and it is a little pathetic that he didn’t get wise to himself until he was out of the game. The blame for Ty’s unpopularity in the profession was not due in any very large way to his actions on the field, where he stood head and shoulders above all competitors, both in ability and thinking. It wasn’t envy of his ability that begrudged him friendship. Ty made his enmities in exchanges of personalities in the clubhouses and off the field. He was as careless of the feelings of others as he was jealous about his own being hurt. Ty went out of his way so often to sow dislike that it was beyond understanding.”54

  Cobb wrote a letter in reply to the commentary and provided a lengthier explanation of his thoughts. He said that there was a segment of the baseball populace, guys who were lazy, critical, and intolerant to religion, plus those in harmful cliques, that he never got along with. But he made plenty of lasting relationships. “Yes, I even can claim some intimate friends,” he explained, “and I think you will agree one usually is rich in friends if he can claim as many as he has fingers on one hand. I don’t feel I fail to have a single friendship in baseball that I regret not having. I have never been jealous toward any player. If I had to go over my career again, I don’t believe I would take the game as seriously as I did, for, no doubt, in my last few years, when the more easy-going players came into the game, they could not understand my style and, no doubt, had their feelings hurt and thought me different than I really felt. I find life very agreeable and I am not at all lonely for friendship.”55

  During the summer of 1934, Ty took his two youngest children, Beverly and Jimmy, to Detroit so he could show them his old stomping grounds at Navin Field. He was welcomed by Tigers fans and cheered as he threw out the ceremonial first pitch for a game there. Detroit, led by Mickey Cochrane and Charlie Gehringer, were on their way to winning the club’s first American League pennant since 1909, but would ultimately lose in the World Series against St. Louis, 4–3. Also on the trip, Cobb journeyed back to Atlanta to see his mother Amanda, who had moved from Royston to 38 Orme Circle in the late 1910s.56

  Always youthful looking, Amanda was very proud of Ty’s accomplishments, but was equally proud of her other two children, Paul and Florence. Her life had been strained by the loss of her husband and, in 1912, she said, “When Ty was making good, I couldn’t appreciate it much, because Mr. Cobb died then and I was so grief stricken Ty’s success was secondary.”57 Denver Post writer Fay King met the Cobb family and described Amanda as having a “shower of fluffy brown hair” and “pretty dimples.” Amanda doted on her grandchildren and was active in the community until illness slowed her down in the mid-1930s. She passed away on October 19, 1936. Florence lived with her mother, and was called “one of the most attractive, dainty little brunettes” King had ever seen. She didn’t expect her to be single for long, but Florence never married. She later moved in with her brother Paul in Sarasota, Florida, and passed away in 1944.

  The membership of the Baseball Writers’ Association of America (BBWAA) began voting to determine the inaugural class for the National Baseball Hall of Fame the day before Christmas in 1935. Less than two months later, the results were in, and Cobb received the highest vote total, 222, and was only four short of unanimous.58 There were detractors to Cobb being number one, particularly individuals who criticized his weak outfield performance in comparison to the likes of Tris Speaker, and the fact that he arguably “flopped” three times in the World Series (hitting only .262 with nine RBIs and seven strikeouts in 17 games).59 Nevertheless, Cobb’s statistics and legacy were well known and the writers with the responsibility of picking the original entrants to the Hall concurred in support of his recognition.

  Over the next three years, the glorious shrine to honor baseball’s legends was constructed at Cooperstown, New York, and in June 1939, the anticipated dedication ceremony was held with old-time luminaries coming in from all parts of the nation. Cobb wasn’t about to miss it. Accompanied by Beverly and Jimmy, Cobb made the trip cross country from California, stopping in Detroit en route to see the Tigers beat Washington on June 11.60 They continued their venture to Utica, New York, and planned to drive down to Cooperstown to make the 12:15 p.m. start time on Monday, June 12. But timeliness was never Ty’s strong suit, and even though he arrived in town with a little time to spare, he couldn’t find a hotel room. “I passed the mob coming in,” he explained. “Still, I thought I had time to wash up.”61

  Cobb finally found lodging at nearby Knox College and was readying himself to head over when he heard the “Cavalcade of Baseball” exercises officially commence on the radio. He was not on the platform with his fellow immortals when Master of Ceremonies Charles J. Doyle, president of the BBWAA, announced the inductees one-by-one. Doyle exclaimed: “Ty Cobb, who won the heart of fans by playing the brand of baseball called, ‘reckless, daring and devil may care!’”62 The crowd reacted respectfully, but Cobb was nowhere to be seen. To record the historic moment, photographers snapped pictures of the Hall of Fame group, including Babe Ruth, Connie Mack, Honus Wagner, Walter Johnson, and Cy Young—ten individuals in total. The eleventh man, and technically Hall of Fame member number one, Cobb, was absent.

  Missing in action for the introductions, Cobb quickly joined the festivities, talking with fans and reporters, and getting reacquainted with old friends. He joked about his absence, stating that he was “called out on strikes, I guess,” but his tardiness more than likely stuck in his craw.63 All during his playing career, he was known for being late to spring training and sometimes appeared just moments before game t
ime during the regular season. Occasionally, he arrived after scheduled contests had already begun. Running late was just part of his makeup, but missing the grand stage at the inaugural Hall of Fame ceremony was an embarrassing gaffe, and writers claimed two separate reasons for his delay. One was that he had been held in California to see his daughter’s graduation, and the other cited a case of ptomaine poisoning suffered in Utica. His condition reportedly required medical attention prior to his journey to Cooperstown.64

  Cobb was in good spirits and remained that way while in New York City the days following, sightseeing with his kids and touring the World’s Fair. He was more than willing to discuss the current state of the sport, telling Paul Sann of the New York Post that “As a spectator, I can take baseball or leave it.”65 He wanted more inside ball, and decried the numerous home runs being hit on a yearly basis. “The lively ball has destroyed the value of the run,” he proclaimed.66 Before returning to California, he wanted to squeeze in a golf game with Babe Ruth at St. Albans Country Club in Queens. “Babe probably is a better golfer,” Cobb said, “but I’ll nettle him. I always could get the Babe mad. He was the greatest long hitter in baseball. He belts a golf ball a mile. But brain can always beat brawn.”67 The plans fell through after Cobb was called out of town, but Ty looked forward to getting another chance to prod the “Bambino”—just like old times.

  18

  THE DEPRESSED PHILANTHROPIST

  During the heyday of Ty Cobb’s ball playing career, experts spent a lot of time searching for the “next Cobb,” a player of similar ability and style. Every spring, managers and club owners touted their new acquisitions, comparing their speed and hitting ability to the man who stood at the top of the pyramid. Detroit had the real “Georgia Peach,” and other teams desperately wanted a comparable athlete. Interestingly, each league and organization had their own version of “Ty Cobb” as well, meaning that the individual designated was the preeminent star in their specific field. For instance, Benny Kauff was the “Ty Cobb” of the Federal League, Edd Roush was often said to be the “Cobb” of the National League, and Oscar Charleston and Spottswood Poles were considered the “Cobbs” of the Negro Leagues.

  Journalists took it all directions, too. Harry Yost was the “Ty Cobb of Football,” Clare Caldwell, nineteen years of age in 1923, was the “Female Georgia Peach” of women’s baseball in Detroit, and Dr. James W. Kramer, an evangelist, was the “Ty Cobb of Preachers.”1 In addition, legendary tough guy Eddie Shore was “frequently referred to as the ‘Ty Cobb’ of ice hockey,” according to The Sporting News.2 In baseball circles, the tendency to compare players to Cobb faded in the 1920s and ’30s, particularly when managers began moving away from “small ball” and focused on heavy hitting. Slick base stealing and technical batting became a lost art, and only once in a while did someone rise up through the ranks with the same kind of approach to the game which Ty exhibited. Those rarities were generally regarded as a throwback to a bygone era, and purists of the game were thrilled.

  Suspected to be a millionaire going back to his days in Detroit, Cobb was long fascinated with the stock market and money. He mingled with leaders of industry, picking up tips of the trade, and gained firsthand insight from trips to various commodities exchanges and even the National Treasury.3 Finding friends and advisors in all walks of life, he developed his simple interest in stocks and bonds into great proficiency. By the late 1930s, Cobb was highly active in the market, and occasionally a writer ventured to guess the value of his estate. Bill Corum of the New York Journal American estimated that Cobb was worth $3 million in 1938, holding 12,000 shares of Coca-Cola and 5,000 shares of General Motors stock.4 Cobb wasn’t the type of man to reveal his net worth, but didn’t deny the reports floating around about his wealth.

  A shrewd investor, Cobb was protective of his money and avoided unnecessary risks. He found around fifteen companies that he liked and purchased shares for himself to include his two core stocks. Others were Gillette, Nash-Kelvinator, Westinghouse Electric, Chase National Bank, Atlas Powder, Rustless Iron and Steel, and Studebaker. Wanting to ensure financial security for his wife and children, he also purchased stock in their names, investing in a wide range of businesses. As of 1941, the Cobb family, as a whole, owned just over 7,000 shares of Coca-Cola and nearly 4,500 General Motors. Cobb personally had 2,500 shares of Rustless Iron and Steel and 1,000 of Gillette. He had money in over a dozen banks from New York to California and kept in close touch with his investment banker, Joseph Hauck, of Schwabacher and Company in San Francisco.5

  Living in Northern California, Cobb had a front row seat to the rise of baseball prodigy Joe DiMaggio, a product of local Bay Area schools and a prominent member of the San Francisco Seals during the 1933–35 seasons. DiMaggio entered the majors in 1936 for the New York Yankees and was an immediate superstar. Cobb was a fan, and offered advice whenever he had the opportunity. In October 1937, at a luncheon to honor local participants of the recent World Series, which was won by Yankees, Cobb was joined by Joe’s younger brother Dominic at the microphone in front of the crowd. Dominic asked him, simply, “What does a young fellow have to do to be a good ball player?” Ty replied, “Just ask your brother, Joe.”6 “Joltin’” Joe played big league ball for thirteen years, amassing over 2,200 hits and a career average of .325. Although Ty was never credited with improving his batting, Joe did acknowledge his suggestions about signing contracts and getting enough pregame rest.7

  Cobb returned to Augusta to attend the annual Masters Golf Tournament in late March 1941, and again brought up the possibility of meeting Babe Ruth on the links, this time for charity. “Maybe we could raise some money for bundles for Britain or some other war relief,” he explained. “Anyway, it would be a lot of fun. I have been hankering to take a shot at the Babe ever since I started playing golf.”8 PGA tournament director Fred Corcoran loved the idea and went to work bringing the sides together for best two out of three series beginning on June 25 at the Commonwealth Country Club outside Boston. The event drummed up sensational press, and Cobb was reported to have gone into “seclusion” to work on a “pressure shot” to unnerve Ruth.9 The initial match was going to be staged for the benefit of the Golden Rule Farm for Boys in New Hampshire, and actress Bette Davis was donating a special cup to the winner.

  Ruth predictably hit the ball harder from the tee, but Cobb was a better putter, and used his skill to win the first contest. Their struggle featured some awkwardness, and certainly neither man was headed for the pro tour, but it was still entertaining to the 2,000 in attendance. Cobb said he was “fortunate” to win, telling a reporter, “The Babe is a darn nice fellow to play with. He was polite, and I tried to be.”10 Continuing, Cobb admitted that he’d never been under such pressure, accentuating the competitiveness between the two individuals. “In my twenty-five years of baseball, I never had to bear down as hard as I did in that match. Well, I beat Ruth and so I have something good to tell my children. I have finally beaten the Babe at something.”11 Cobb appeared much more humble next to Ruth, and in a mutually respectful environment, was comfortable sharing the spotlight. Any of the previous hostilities were long gone, but their passion to win remained.

  The public’s interest in the Cobb-Ruth golf battle dropped off almost immediately, at least in New York, where their second round was held at the Fresh Meadow Country Club in Flushing. A reporter for the Brooklyn Eagle claimed that there were about 100 paid admissions to see the affair and a guesstimate by the New York Sun was only a little more generous, stating that attendance was closer to 200 people. Either way, the event was a “financial flop,” according to George Trevor of the Sun, and the USO, the charity benefitting from the proceeds, was not in for a windfall.12 The match itself ended with a victory for Ruth, setting up a third and final contest to be held at the Grosse Ile Country Club near Detroit on July 29, 1941.

  Two days before their match, Cobb and Ruth stopped in Cleveland and were joined by Tris Speaker for a big appearance during the l
ocal Amateur Day celebration, an event attended by 15,000 baseball fans. Sporting a Detroit uniform, Cobb signed autographs and was more than happy to offer tips to the youngsters on the field. But by the time the golf series was resumed, both men were out of sorts, and playing drearily. Ruth disliked traveling and, according to Cobb, had been drinking overnight, leaving him a little worse for wear.13 He sweated profusely during the four-hour matchup and was ultimately defeated. Cobb said afterward, “I’m mighty proud to have won and I’m very glad we put up such a good match in the town where I used to play ball.”14 The crowd was back up over 2,000 for the occasion, and the ex-ballplayers were satisfied to see the USO receive a nice check.

  The recognition of Cobb’s career continued. In 1942, six years after writers deemed him the top choice going to the Hall of Fame at Cooperstown, the players and managers themselves voted him the greatest of all-time. The balloting was arranged by The Sporting News, and Cobb received 60 of the 102 votes cast by former contemporaries. The next highest vote getter, Honus Wagner, was picked by only 17 individuals, and Ruth had but 11 supporters. The Sporting News, as a sidebar to the results, published the quotes of voters, briefly explaining their endorsement. For example, Walter Johnson stated that Cobb “could do everything better than any player I ever saw.” Tris Speaker said he had “great competitive spirit and the willingness to take chances at all times.” Connie Mack, with all of his experience, declared that Cobb “surpassed all the players that I remember,” and Eddie Collins simply said that the choice of Cobb was “Obvious.”15