Aside from the team’s dismal standing in the pennant race, there was another possible reason for the backlash against Cobb, and that was his poor showing at the plate. His batting was far below average, around .277 when he first went out with his injury. By the middle of June, he had fought his way back to .300, but fans in Detroit were still antsy. Earlier in the month, as the Tigers were facing a no-hit bid by Boston’s Dutch Leonard, patrons at Navin Field came alive to actively root for Leonard to achieve the distinction, and opposed Cobb as he entered the fracas as a pinch hitter in the bottom of the ninth. Cobb popped out in foul territory and Leonard made history, much to the delight of the audience.58
Personally challenged by the turmoil, Cobb went on the “most remarkable batting spree he ever has taken,” according to the Detroit Free Press, and hit .512 over a 19-game period into July, elevating his overall average to .380.59 But despite the impressive run toward yet another batting championship, he was not completely engulfed by his baseball responsibilities. In fact, his concentration was divided between his day job and what he expected to soon be his number one responsibility, and that was serving his country in a military uniform.
“I believe every man in the United States who is able to render some service to his country should get on the job,” Cobb told a reporter. “I am shaping my business affairs to that by the time the season ends, I will be able to do my part. I don’t believe the people care to see a lot of big, healthy young men out on the field playing ball while their sons and brothers are abroad risking their lives to conquer the Huns. I will quit the game until the war is ended and do what I can to aid in speedily winning it.”60
Following a “work or fight” decree from Provost Marshal General Crowder in May and the declaration that the sport was not essential employment, players throughout Organized Baseball were impelled to either enlist or join vital labor organizations. Two of Cobb’s longtime on-field rivals, Eddie Collins and “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, were such examples, with Collins headed to the Marines and Jackson taking up with a shipbuilding corporation in Delaware. Cobb settled on a position in the Army Chemical Warfare Service and passed a thorough physical exam in Washington, D.C. on August 16. Eight days later, before a patriotic crowd in New York, he announced his intention of being in Europe by the first of October to help the war effort.61 The 15,000 in attendance were overwhelming in their respectful admiration.
A doubleheader at Detroit against the White Sox on September 2 ended the abbreviated campaign, which was purposefully cut short to allow players to adhere to the new laws. Cobb went 6-for-10 between the games—both victories for the Tigers—and pitched two innings in the finale.62 It was a praiseworthy way to end the season and exemplified Cobb’s status as the major league batting leader, as he finished with a .382 average, well ahead of his nearest competitor. The Detroit club didn’t have much to crow about otherwise, finishing with a 55–71 record and in seventh place, 20 games behind the Boston Red Sox. The statistics didn’t mean much in the big picture, and Cobb immediately embraced his new occupation as a commissioned officer in the United States Army.63
The newly designated Captain Tyrus R. Cobb tied up loose ends in Detroit and Augusta, said goodbye to his family, and departed for Washington on September 30. Sportswriters assumed he would head into training at the Camp Humphreys, Virginia, engineers school, and the report that he was at the latter venue engaged in studies circulated in newspapers. But Cobb didn’t want to be tied up for months stateside. He wanted to sail for France as soon as possible, reaffirming that he was “not trying to avoid military duty.” The perception that ballplayers were “slackers” and working to evade combat was grinding on Cobb’s nerves. He told reporter Robert W. Maxwell that he was in the military to fight, and that he planned to toil harder for the service of the country than he ever did on the diamond.64
“Nobody ever felt more proud of a uniform than I do at the present moment,” Cobb explained, wearing his Army duds. Discounting the rumors that he was going to have a rear-echelon job as a physical trainer, he said, “I am in the field offensive service and my work has to do with the practical application of gas on the enemy.”65 Noisy cynics criticized the athletes who entered the chemical service as officers, believing that it was a sort of safe-haven to protect the pampered stars. Cobb reiterated his motivations a half-dozen times, but regardless, doubters were still going to have something negative to say.
Ex-heavyweight boxing champion James J. Corbett wrote a series of articles based on a “heart-to-heart talk” he enjoyed with Cobb in September. Cobb offered a realistic perspective of his career, saying: “I have played perhaps the last game of baseball that I ever shall play. It is my hope that I will be on the battlefields of France before winter. And I may never come back. Even if I do, there is no assurance that I’ll get back in diamond harness again.”66 If there was any truth to his statement, his Army garb was perhaps the final uniform he’d ever wear.
12
PATHWAY TO RICHES
Growing up the grandson of two war veterans, Ty Cobb was acutely deferential toward service in the armed forces and was fascinated by military traditions. Stories about the conquests and leadership of French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte were amongst his favorite literary subjects and it’s hard not to wonder whether the historical implications of going to Europe were on his mind in the days preceding his arrival to the combat theatre.1 The American Civil War was another topic of great interest and he took particular pride in the actions of Southern soldiers. During a trip to Lookout Mountain at Chattanooga, Tennessee, in 1914, he lectured friends about local battles, telling them how the Confederates were often outnumbered. “If we had been able to muster as many soldiers as the north, just think what might have happened,” he explained.2
Army officials acquiesced to Cobb’s wishes in him joining the American Expeditionary Force (AEF) at once, and promptly routed him onto the troopship HMS Baltic, which sailed from New York around October 13, 1918. A fellow officer and passenger on the boat, Edward S. Luce, later recounted what he believed to be the “biggest scare or thrill” Cobb ever got in his life. “We were in mid-ocean, had just had supper, and were leaning over the side of the ship. It was a half-moonlit night; we could see the other ships in the convoy silhouetted against the sky, when, all of a sudden, we saw a white streak heading toward the Baltic. We were both frozen in our tracks. We couldn’t move, and neither of us spoke a word.
“Just when that white streak we supposed was a torpedo was due to hit the side of the ship, we jumped back—and nothing happened. It was the white wave from another ship in the convoy and not a torpedo. Even now, when Ty and I meet, we always remark on ‘the biggest scare we ever got in our lives.’”3 Because of the secrecy surrounding the deployment of troops, a number of newspaper writers mistakenly declared that Cobb was in either New York City or Washington, D.C., even though he was well on his way to Europe. The Baltic arrived first at Liverpool, England, and then Le Havre, France, where Cobb and his comrades disembarked. On October 28, Detroit Tigers President Frank Navin received a notification by mail affirming that Cobb was safely overseas.4
Cobb received orders to Chaumont, a couple hours southeast of Paris, and the site of Allied Headquarters. His first duty station was actually located at the AEF Chemical Warfare Service training school, housed not far from the city at Hanlon Field, and there, he rendezvoused with a number of familiar faces. Included were Major Branch Rickey, formerly a manager of the St. Louis Browns, and Captain Christy Mathewson of the Cincinnati Reds. Over the previous two years, Cobb and Mathewson had become good friends, bonding in Cincinnati in the spring of 1917, and then during the Tigers-Reds exhibition series earlier in 1918. They played competitive checkers, a game Mathewson mastered, and together used their celebrity status to sell liberty war bonds.5
At Hanlon Field, the hazards of German warfare, specifically the poisonous gases being used in the trenches, were studied by thousands of recruits in advance of their expected tran
sfer to the front lines. The proper uses of protective masks and defensive equipment were essential, and Cobb, Mathewson, Rickey, and their brethren passed through a specialized gas chamber as part of their training. According to Cobb’s 1961 autobiography, he and others missed a signal and were exposed to a harmful dose of gas during their instruction session. He claimed that eight men died as a result and Mathewson suffered irreparable damage to his lungs.6 Fortunately for Cobb, he experienced only a slight illness and remained fit for combat. However, on November 11, 1918, the armistice was signed, putting an end to the combat in Europe, and he never saw Germany. Not before very long, he was back on the Atlantic Ocean sailing for home.
The U.S.S. Leviathan was one of the first troopships parading westward in December 1918, and Cobb was amongst the nearly 9,000 soldiers, sailors, and marines aboard. The Saturday before landing at Hoboken, New Jersey, an entertainment show was staged and the baseball fans of the crowd called Captain Cobb front and center to make a speech. He abided on the extraordinary occasion and, in what were probably the most important oratory comments he’d ever given in his life—to triumphant members of the military returning to their families—made an incredible pledge to his comrades.
A young Brooklyn war hero, who’d been seriously injured in combat, told a reporter what the baseball luminary said. “He [Cobb] told us a lot of josh stuff and when he told us some more about baseball, he says, ‘If I get back in the game and I’m playing at the Polo Grounds, I want you fellas all to remember I made this trip on the Lee-vy,’ that’s what we call this ship, with you. ‘If I’m stealing third,’ says Ty, ‘and it flashes on anyone of you who I am just as I’m sliding to the base, I want you to stand right up in the bleachers and yell out, Hey, Ty, I’m a guy that was on the Lee-vy! And I’ll run right off the baseline and over to wherever you are in the bleachers and shake hands and sit down and have a talk about this trip. To hell with whether we win or lose.’” The young man then proudly said, “I’m gonna take Ty Cobb up” on that promise.7
Upon his arrival on American soil on December 16, 1918, Cobb was besieged by journalists looking for a headline.8 They wanted to know what his intentions were, and if he really planned to walk away from the game of baseball. His responses were half-hearted, but it was clear that quitting the game was a possibility. Before the end of the year, there were rumors he planned to exercise his newfound freedom since receiving his unconditional release from Detroit prior to his deployment, and sign with the New York Yankees for the 1919 season. It was a stunning turnaround, but baseball officials were not buying the trick for a minute. Cobb, and any other players who left for military service, were still tied to their original ball clubs, and were, in no way, free agents. That meant Cobb was going nowhere but Detroit, if he planned to resume his baseball career.
There was certainly a lot to consider and Cobb needed time to digest his future plans. Off the diamond, he’d been exceptionally shrewd with his money and demonstrated his ambitious business sensibility innumerable times over the past decade. His investments were originally based on a need to secure an income outside of what he made in baseball, due to the wobbly nature of the sport. Any number of times, a fractious break from Detroit management over contract terms could’ve put an end to his regular paychecks, but since he was always enterprising, his family would never do without. And that was a purposeful arrangement on his part, consciously made to protect his wife and children going into the future.
Cobb, in 1916, expressed a partiality toward bank stock and real estate, but his portfolio through the years was remarkably diverse.9 Back in 1907, he placed money in an unguaranteed Arizona goldmine, only to see his money jump from $3 a share to upwards of $100 three years later. The deal, recommended by a friend, paid off in spades, and the novice investor gained confidence in listening to the advice of others. He followed up by putting $1,000 into cotton and watching his money leap to $7,500.10 As a citizen of Detroit, he entered a local retail sporting goods operation run by William B. Jarvis in June 1912 and a line of “Ty Cobb” branded merchandise was produced, everything from baseball equipment to tennis rackets. He saw the long-term viability of such a venture and told a reporter, “This new business is something I intend to make a life work of and it certainly looks good to me.”11
In the baseball realm, sportswriters linked him to ownership positions with Indianapolis of the American Association and Lincoln of the Western League, but neither panned out. Then in 1911, he joined Frank Navin, William Yawkey, and Hugh Jennings to buy the Providence Grays of the International League, which became somewhat of a minor league proving ground for the Tigers.12 Cobb again broadened his interests in September 1917, when he formed an Augusta agency to distribute Anheuser-Busch’s non-alcoholic soft drink, Bevo. The beverage was sold as an alternative to beer, and sponsors targeted the military in marketing strategies.13 E. A. Batchelor predicted that the investment would bring Cobb $10,000 annually.14 Also at Augusta, he formed the Ty Cobb–Bill Sanford Tire Company, and his firm was the exclusive vendor for the popular Diamond Tires in the district.15
Buying property was long a passion of Cobb, and he put money into real estate in both Detroit and Augusta. Sidney I. Busbia was his agent and partner for a number of homes and lots in the latter location and, at different points, Cobb owned hundreds of acres of land across Richmond County, Georgia.16 Of all his properties, one in particular received a personal touch. In 1916, he incorporated the United Apartment Company with four associates and constructed a $75,000 modern apartment building at the northwest corner of Greene and Cumming Streets. The beautiful structure was named the “Shirley Apartments” for his daughter, Shirley Marion Cobb, and is still standing in the heart of Augusta, today known as the “Cobb House Apartments.”17
Stock in the United Motors Corporation was a smart buy for Cobb, especially after the company was bought by General Motors in 1918. By the end of 1920, he would own nearly 300 shares in “GM,” worth around $4,000.18 Another important stock purchase came in the form of the soft drink Coca Cola, and, in fact, it would ultimately be the most significant and enduring investment he’d ever make. His attention was initially drawn to the soda by Atlanta businessman Robert W. “Bob” Woodruff, whose father Ernest was an instrumental cog in the 1919 purchase of the company from the Candler Family. Cobb explained in his autobiography that Woodruff convinced him to take out a loan for $10,800 so he could obtain 300 shares in 1918.19 It was a wise decision and served as the golden goose on his pathway to riches in subsequent years.
Ironically, during Cobb’s post-military period of rest and relaxation, he was confronted by the sudden serious illness of his boss, business partner, and mentor, William Yawkey. Yawkey, part owner of the Tigers since 1903, was passing through Augusta when he was overcome by influenza and hospitalized. Rushing to his bedside, Cobb offered his support, but the baseball magnate succumbed on March 5, 1919.20 Notably, Yawkey’s adopted son Tom would later enter the major leagues as an owner as well, purchasing the Boston Red Sox in 1933 and holding his position for more than forty years. He was once asked about Cobb, and replied, “I’ve always had the greatest respect for him as a player and as a man. I’ve always considered him the greatest player that ever lived.”21
Detroit players reported to spring camp at Macon, Georgia, in March, and Cobb was not only absent, but his status remained unclear. He hadn’t signed a new contract, and communications between the outfielder and Frank Navin were silent. In terms of conditioning, Cobb was in good shape, having spent considerable time hunting and working out with the Washington Senators at Warren Park in Augusta. Yearning to get back into the swing of things, and disregarding any previous thoughts of retirement, he agreed to a two-year, $20,000 annual salary, and met the team in South Carolina on April 8.22 The next day, he entered the lineup at Rock Hill, and in his first at bat in months, homered much to the delight of the crowd.23 At Greensboro, North Carolina, a few days later, he was mobbed by fans of all ages, many of whom just wanted to c
atch a glimpse.
Although the war was over, major league owners felt the overall environment for baseball was uncertain, and they agreed to shorten the 1919 season to 140 games. In contrast, Cobb expected prosperity and he couldn’t have been more right. Attendance in Detroit alone was going to triple over the year prior as America’s pastime was embraced by a patriotic public.24 Cobb was set to play ball on Wednesday, April 23, for opening day at Navin Field, but rain and cold weather postponed the highly anticipated affair for two days. On Friday afternoon, 10,000 patrons braved the chill to see their hometown favorites beat Cleveland, 4–2. Cobb, having gone 2-for-4 with a double and two RBIs, looked to be in top shape.25
Sometime that same day—probably following the game—he encountered a maid at the Pontchartrain Hotel in what might have been, according to press reports, the most disturbing off-the-field incident Cobb ever experienced. However, at the time, few people knew the episode occurred at all. Newspaper editors were reached by influential powers prior to breaking the story locally and it was decided not to harm the reputation of the recently returned war veteran and baseball hero on the dawn of a new season. It wasn’t until eight days later that the Chicago Defender, an African American paper, revealed what otherwise should have been front page news in all the major dailies. The Defender rightfully called out its counterparts for the lack of coverage and declared, “Every effort has been made by authorities connected with the Detroit club to keep the story of Cobb’s brutality suppressed.”26
Chronicling the gathered evidence, the Defender explained that Cobb came upon Mrs. Ada Morris, an African American woman, changing the bed linen in his room. He asked her where she was from, and Morris replied, “Pennsylvania.” Cobb then responded by saying, “There never was a nigger like you from Pennsylvania.” Refusing to be spoken to in such a manner, Morris let Cobb know, and, according to the Defender, the volley of words quickly turned into a physical altercation. The scrap was essentially one-sided and ended when Cobb kicked her down some stairs.27 Morris, bruised and battered and under the care of a doctor, contacted attorney Reuben C. Nicholson, and immediately initiated a $10,000 civil action.28
War on the Basepaths Page 25