Instead, Leonard blamed the lively ball. “In the old days,” he explained, “I used to regularly pitch a high, fast one that the batter had to hit into the air. The result usually was a high fly and an easy out. I could go along inning after inning in this fashion and there was little strain on my arm. Only in a pinch did I have to curve the ball, and the old ball would curve much easier than the one they now have. The high flies that were easy outs then would be home runs now. The result is that a pitcher has to ‘bear down’ in every inning and on almost every pitch. He has to keep the ball low, so the batter will hit it on the ground and everybody knows that it is harder on the arm to pitch a low ball than a high one.” Additionally, it was mentioned that Leonard was using “six times” as many curve balls than he threw earlier in his career, and his arm suffered significant damage as a consequence.7
The grievances addressed by Leonard against Cobb weren’t made public until well after “Dutch” had been sent packing from the major leagues. He decided against reporting to Vernon, and did a lot of thinking about the injustices surrounding his demotion. Finally, he concluded that his ex-manager was at fault for his fall from grace, and dredged up a memory bank of purported ill-treatment, figuring he’d gotten a “bum deal” all around. “I could not figure how Cobb could turn on me as he did,” he declared, taking it extremely personally.8 Tris Speaker, his former friend, was also in the wrong for not grabbing him when offered on waivers. Leonard, burning with fury, wanted vengeance and knew the best way to go about it. He departed his ranch eight miles east of Fresno, California, and ventured to Chicago in June 1926, ready to shatter the purity of Cobb and Speaker as baseball players.
Leonard desired a meeting with American League President Ban Johnson first and foremost, but after being ignored, caught up with Washington manager Bucky Harris in Chicago for a series against the White Sox. He showed Harris copies of two letters he possessed, one from Cobb and the other written by Boston and Cleveland alumni “Smoky” Joe Wood, who retired from Organized Baseball in 1922, and was the current baseball coach at Yale University. The missives were sent to Leonard seven years before in 1919 and, based on a cursory examination, Harris quickly notified Senators business manager Ed Eynon. Eynon was so blown away by the contents of the letters that he went directly to Johnson’s Chicago home and shared the information. Johnson undoubtedly regretted his earlier disregard for Leonard and, infused with a maddening urgency, sought the ex-ballplayer for a meeting.9
Unsuccessful in his attempt to find him, Johnson raced to Cleveland for a one-on-one discussion with Tris Speaker. He proceeded next to Detroit, and discovered that Leonard had also been in town trying to sell the letters to the Detroit News. The newspaper apparently declined to purchase the correspondence for their $20,000 to $30,000 sales price.10 Leonard revealed the letters to Harry Heilmann during his brief stay in the “Motor City,” and Heilmann didn’t waste any time presenting the information to Cobb.11 Being the author of one of the documents in question, Cobb was aware of what it contained, and for that reason, he had cause to be concerned. With the right kind of negative spin, the contents of his letter could be misconstrued to show him as a willing participant in the fixing of a baseball game. Even a hazy notion of him being tied to crookedness was enough to tarnish his reputation.
That’s precisely what Leonard was striving for. When he ultimately met Johnson in Chicago, he was uncompromising in his language, charging Cobb, Wood, and Speaker with malfeasance, and used the 1919 letters as evidence. He asserted that the three men had joined him in a conspiracy on September 24, 1919, to give Detroit a victory over Cleveland the following day. The agreement was made with the idea that Cleveland had already captured second place in the league, thus garnering a share of World Series money and, with a Tigers win, would help them in their fight for third place. Meaning the game was inconsequential to Speaker and Wood, and thus, they were allegedly willing to throw it to help Cobb and Leonard. Additionally, since they already knew who was going to win on September 25, they decided to place a bet on Detroit to garner a little extra money from the deal.12
Putting up $1,500, Leonard was all for the idea. He, however, left Detroit before the September 25 game was played. As far as he knew, Cobb was placing $2,000 on the contest, while Speaker and Wood were both contributing $1,000 to the pot.13 As expected, Detroit was victorious, winning by a score of 9–5. Several weeks after the 1919 season closed, October 23, 1919, to be exact, Cobb sat down at his Augusta home and penned a letter to Leonard. It read, in part:
Wood and myself were considerably disappointed in our business proposition, as we had $2,000 to put into it and the other side quoted us $1,400, and when we finally secured that much money, it was about two o’clock and they refused to deal with us, as they had men in Chicago to take the matter up with and they had no time, so we completely fell down and of course we felt badly over it.
Everything was open to Wood and he can tell you about it when we get together. It was quite a responsibility and I don’t care for it again, I can assure you.14
Wood also mailed correspondence to Leonard, but his message contained more details of the transaction than Cobb had. He also included a certified check for $1,630, which was Leonard’s original $1,500, plus a third of the winnings ($130). The message read, in part:
The only bet [Fred] West could get up was $600 against $420 (10 to 7). Cobb did not get up a cent. He told us that and I believe him. Could have put some at 5 to 2 on Detroit, but did not, as that would make us put up $1,000 to win $400.
We won the $420. I gave West $30, leaving $390, or $130 for each of us.
If we ever have another chance like this we will know enough to try to get down early.15
In his letter, Wood affirmed that Cobb hadn’t put any money down on the game, a crucial fact. But taking into consideration what Cobb printed in his document, he still had a lot of explaining to do. One of the most interesting portions of the Wood letter stated, “I gave West $30, leaving $390, or $130 for each of us.” The $390 was apparently being split three ways, “$130 for each of us,” as he explained. But other than Wood and Leonard, who admittedly had been part of the deal, who was the third individual involved? There was sufficient reason to wonder about improprieties by both Cobb and Speaker, and they were possibly complicit at the very least.
Threatening to go public with the story and initiate a lawsuit for money he believed was owed to him by the Detroit Tigers, Leonard convinced Johnson in June 1926 to make financial reparations in the reported amount of $20,000.16 He agreed to throw in the original copies of the Cobb and Wood letters to complete the deal. Johnson, through American League attorney Henry Killilea, worked out the details and the agreement was finalized. Had Leonard taken the matter to the press, the league would have suffered greatly, Johnson felt, as would have Frank Navin, an important friend. To a lesser degree, he was concerned about protecting managers Cobb and Speaker. Altogether, obtaining the letters and sending Leonard back to California content was seen as the best way to keep the story suppressed until an internal league investigation could bear further results.
While Leonard was adamant about gaining revenge, his motivation might have been dual-faceted. For years, disseminated reports claimed he was a wealthy man, but what Ed R. Hughes of the San Francisco Chronicle uncovered in his research challenged that assumption. He found that Leonard was in debt because of the ranch he purchased in 1922 and had to borrow the money he used to travel to Chicago in June 1926. Things quickly changed, though, and after confirming with the Fresno County Courthouse, Hughes wrote, “Whatever happened in Detroit and Chicago last June when Leonard was there, he came back and paid off that mortgage on July 17, 1926.” The amount was $15,000.17
The American League Board of Directors held a secret meeting in Chicago on September 9, 1926, and the two letters were presented for review. Understanding the heavy implications of their move, the directors voted to issue unconditional releases to Speaker and Cobb, ousting them from th
e league. With regard to Cobb, Johnson later said that Ty “couldn’t explain the letter [he wrote] satisfactorily,” and “on that letter alone the American League was forced to let Cobb go.”
The directors spoke about protecting the two superstars, and Johnson added, “They had done a lot for baseball. We had to let them out, but we saw no reason for bringing embarrassment upon their families. We wanted to be decent about it.”18 A coordinated effort was made to give dignity to Cobb and Speaker, and allowing them to resign with the appearance of doing so on their own terms was concocted.19
Justifiably, Cobb was enraged by the maneuvering of Leonard. Johnson described him as “heartbroken,” and said he “maintained his innocence” when they met just prior to Cobb’s hunting trip in October. Johnson informed him that “whether guilty or not he was through in the American League.”20 Navin notified him of his release as well, according to The Sporting News, a few days before the season concluded, but the public wasn’t made aware of it until early November.21 That meant his public comments, including the interview he gave in Omaha en route to Wyoming, when he discussed his future in baseball, were specifically curtailed and not forthcoming. Cobb withheld the information about his dismissal from the Tigers, not only as a manager, but as a player. As stunning as it was, he was unemployed in Organized Baseball for the first time in over twenty years.
“I hate to leave baseball,” Cobb told the Associated Press. “You know I am going to be forty years old December 18. I am about as good as I ever was, but the time has come for me to quit taking chances, and that means that it is time for me to get out.”22 It clearly appeared that Cobb was stepping out on his own terms, and if things continued to proceed smoothly, there were hopes that the entire scandal would blow over without any public knowledge at all. He didn’t stray too far from baseball, attending the minor league annual meetings at Asheville, North Carolina on December 5. Fighting off a cold, he told inquisitive reporters, “I said when I left Detroit that I had swung my last bat in a competitive game, and I meant just that.”23 Journalists were sure he was taking charge of a minor league team, and the Atlanta Crackers of the Southern Association seemed to be his club of choice.
Another rumor tied both Cobb and Speaker to positions in the Boston Red Sox franchise. But on December 21, 1926, the Commissioner of Baseball, Judge Kenesaw M. Landis, released 100 pages of documentation from his investigation into the alleged fixed game involving the two men, effectively ruining any future for them in Organized Baseball.24 The revelation rocked baseball, tarnishing Cobb and Speaker before the public, and dropped them into the same heap as the crooked “Black Sox.” Once reporters had a chance to review the evidence, there were questions why Landis would destroy the reputations of two celebrated superstars on the word of just one man, Leonard, especially when acknowledging his dubious motives.
Cobb went into self-preservation mode, offering a lengthy explanation to Bert Walker of the Detroit Times. “Is there a God?” he asked. “I am beginning to doubt it. I know there is no gratitude. Here I am, after twenty-two years in hard, desperate, and honest work, dismissed from baseball in disgrace without ever having a chance to face my accuser. It is enough to try one’s faith. I am branded as a gambler on ball games in which my club took part. I have never in the twenty-two years I have been in baseball made a single bet on an American League game. These vague accusations that have driven me out of baseball come from a man who is nothing short of a blackmailer. I was not surprised at my dismissal [from the Tigers], but I do think that this manner in which I was dismissed was nothing short of a conspiracy to oust me.”25
At the center of the conspiracy, Cobb believed, was Frank J. Navin, his boss since 1905. He razed what was left of their relationship with his comments, claiming that he would’ve won a championship if he’d gotten any cooperation from the owner, and frankly announced, “I do not believe Mr. Navin wanted me to win a pennant for Detroit.” Cobb explained that the Tigers had opportunities to sign Paul Waner, Alphonse “Tommy” Thomas, and others, but that Navin blocked each and every acquisition. Major criticism was directed at Navin’s so-called “gift” of $10,000 presented during the August 1925 banquet for Cobb. Ty denied it was a gift at all, stating that the money was part of his salary, but that Navin pawned it off as a big bonus to honor him. “The ball club never gave me a red cent,” Cobb declared, “and when I left Detroit after the last game, the club owners did not even express the slightest word of appreciation.”26
In the fight of his life, Cobb’s strength and passion were visible to reporters, but his emotions got the best of him. A correspondent for the United Press couldn’t help but notice tears flowing from his eyes during one interview in Augusta.27 Responding to questions about the infamous letter he wrote to Leonard, Cobb did his best to clarify himself. He confessed that his use of the words “business proposition” was his way of shrouding his comments because he knew how they might be interpreted if in the wrong hands. He denied being part of any conspiracy with Leonard, but admitted that he knew “Dutch” was betting on the game in 1919. In fact, Cobb agreed to do him a favor, and that tied to the “responsibility” he mentioned in the missive.
Cobb explained that Leonard, because he was leaving Detroit early, had asked him to convey the amount wagered on the September 25 ballgame, and that was the overall purpose of his October 23 letter. Cobb insisted he never bet on the game, nor did he ever intend to. Speaker said likewise. The Sporting News indicated that “As far as the evidence shows, Cobb and Speaker did not put up any money,” seemingly absolving them.28 There was also significant backlash to the claim that the September 25, 1919, game was “thrown” to Detroit, with several of the game’s participants not remembering anything specifically amiss about the affair. Amongst those to comment were Pep Young, Jack Graney, Bill Wambsganss, and Bernie Boland.29
Proactive in their defense, Cobb and Speaker hired attorneys and were preparing a lengthy legal strategy to restore their reputations. They received a stunning amount of support throughout the sporting world, and on a personal level from friends, colleagues, and admirers. Late in December 1926, the ostracized duo went to Washington, D.C. to consult officials, and there was speculation that a few of their allies in the U.S. Senate were considering a public hearing to get to the bottom of the controversy.30 Cobb and Speaker welcomed such an event, and particularly wanted to face Leonard, who had yet to step before them at any point since the accusations were made.31 The scope of Judge Landis’s probe grew when further allegations of corruption were made separate from the Cobb-Speaker situation, and the political wrangling between the commissioner and Ban Johnson intensified going into 1927.
Opposite all the support bestowed upon Cobb by individuals maintaining his innocence, there was still much criticism. As a matter of fact, the harshest censure appeared in W. Rollo Wilson’s column in the Pittsburgh Courier. It read: “Somehow or other, I do not feel that Tris Speaker is guilty of the charges launched against him by Dutch Leonard. But when I remember about Ty Cobb beating and kicking that colored chambermaid in a Cleveland (sic) hotel, I would not put anything down as being too low for him to do. And do you recall that he tried to lick a colored employee at Shibe Park a couple years since because he would not discontinue a phone call so that he, the mighty Cobb, could use the instrument? That’s how I feel about Master Cobb.”32
Nevertheless, Landis, at the conclusion of his investigation, exonerated Cobb and Speaker of all charges on January 27, 1927, declaring in a statement: “These players have not been, nor are they now, found guilty of fixing a ball game.”33 With the announcement, they were restored to the reserve lists of their former teams, Detroit and Cleveland respectively, and then given their freedom by those clubs to shop their services around the American League as free agents. Cobb, hunting in South Carolina at the time, was relieved by the news, but had expected to be cleared of the damaging allegations. However, he felt the totality of the entire case besmirched his standing with the public and a lawsui
t for defamation against the league was not off the table.34 He did welcome the chance to play again, saying that he was “honor bound” to make his return.
“Words fail to express my happiness over my vindication,” he explained. “I have suffered deeply, but never lost hope that eventually right and justice would prevail. I wish to thank from the bottom of my heart the baseball fans, the newspapers, sporting writers, and all my friends for their wonderful confidence in me. For twenty-two years, I have given my all to baseball. I am supremely happy to know that what I gave was not given in vain.”35 Several teams put out feelers for Cobb’s rights for the upcoming season, including St. Louis Browns, New York Yankees, and Brooklyn Dodgers, and Connie Mack was so enthusiastic about signing him that he went to Augusta to meet with him personally.36 Mack also wanted Speaker for Philadelphia, but Tris worked a deal with the Washington Senators instead. Cobb displayed restraint in his negotiations, but Mack was persistent, finally offering him a sum of money that just couldn’t be refused.
During a banquet of the Philadelphia Sportswriters Association at the Hotel Adelphia on February 8, Cobb publicized his decision to join the Athletics. The next day, he formally endorsed a contract in the office of Mack at Shibe Park, but the details of the agreement were withheld. Experts guessed it was as high as $75,000, while Cobb denoted a $70,000 figure, plus 10 percent of gate receipts for exhibition games, in his 1961 autobiography.37 According to records held by the National Baseball Hall of Fame at Cooperstown, New York, he made $50,000 for 1927, but the document didn’t specifically outline a bonus figure.38 Altogether, his total income from Philadelphia was believed to supersede that of Babe Ruth and once again make him the highest paid player in the game.
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