1

“DON’T COME HOME A FAILURE”

As the American Civil War entered its second year in April 1862, thirty-year-old John Franklin Cobb was facing a life-altering set of circumstances. He was days away from being wed to his sweetheart, Sarah Ann Waldroup, and within a few weeks, would be enlisted in the Confederate Army. The call to duty was an honor, but since the future of a raw private in combat was anything but guaranteed, he looked forward to cementing his bonds to Sarah while he still had the chance. On May 4, the couple exchanged their vows, and by June 20 he was in uniform, fully committed to serving the war effort.1 Although he lived in Georgia, Cobb joined Company C, 39th Infantry Regiment in his native North Carolina. 2 However, for reasons unknown, Cobb’s obligations to the military lasted only fifty-six days, and he returned to Sarah, who was now pregnant with their first child.

Prior to getting married, John Cobb had resided in the Ivy Log area of Union County, Georgia, in the homestead created by his parents, William and Charlotte. But after the 1861 death of his mother, and his father’s hasty second marriage in 1862, John had a hankering to plant roots near his birthplace in the far westernmost region of North Carolina.3 The area of Notla Township in Cherokee County was about ten miles north and it offered a beautiful landscape up against the Blue Ridge Mountains.4 That’s where the newlyweds settled, and on February 23, 1863, Sarah delivered a baby boy named William Herschel. Over the next seventeen years, five other children were born to the Cobbs, including daughters Mary Jane and Nora, and sons John, Schuyler, and James.

As the sole provider, John labored long hours on the family farm and was well known in the community for his wisdom and fairness. For that reason, he often was called upon by neighbors to mediate quarrels. People respected and trusted his word as final.5 Cobb stressed hard work to his children, but he wanted them to get an education before anything else in life. He sent William Herschel to Hayesville in adjoining Clay County to learn from Professor John O. Hicks at the renowned Hicksville Academy.6 An astute student, William gravitated to scholarship from a young age, thriving in mathematics, history, and language. Through his studies, he gained a wealth of confidence and became an exceptional speaker and debater.

In 1880, seventeen-year-old William was engaged as a farm employee in Notla, but he had far greater aspirations.7 According to one source, William initially traveled to Georgia to work as a book agent. 8 Within the next couple years, he sought labor and teaching opportunities, and received advice from family still living in Ivy Log. He was spirited and outgoing, and was willing to relocate for better job prospects. Around 60 miles to the southeast of Ivy Log, he met Caleb C. Chitwood, an influential landowner in the Columbia District of Banks County. Like Cobb’s father, Chitwood was a veteran, but the latter was active in the conflict for a sustained period of time and highly distinguished as a captain. In fact, he was briefly held as a prisoner of war after the Battle of Vicksburg in Mississippi, in July 1863.9 Also, similar to Cobb’s father, he was a prominent member of the community and took a liking to William almost immediately.

Tall, self-assured, and sociable, William was an impressive figure and, despite the fact that he was barely out of his teens, he was admired for his all-around knowledge. It was only natural that he’d begin to teach locally in Banks County and soon developed a relationship with Amanda Chitwood, Caleb’s fifteen-year-old daughter. The two were married before Baptist Pastor L. J. Duncan on February 11, 1886.10 Not before very long, the Cobbs were expecting, and on the following December 18, a healthy baby named Tyrus Raymond, better known to the public as “Ty Cobb,” was born in the family’s remote cabin. Regarding his rather unusual name, Cobb explained that it came from a “Tyrian leader” from Tyre, which is today in modern-day Lebanon. He disavowed any claim that it was from Tyr, the Norse God of War.11

“My grandfather was a Chitwood,” Cobb told a reporter in 1944. “I was born on his plantation, which is four miles from Mount Airy and about six miles from Cornelia. There’s nothing there but the land today.”12 Cobb described his birthplace as taking place in the community of Narrows, an unincorporated stretch of land that included parts of Banks, Habersham, and Stephens Counties.13 Narrows, Georgia, was the location of a locally important Civil War battle often referred to as the “Battle of Narrows.” According to Mark McCoy of the Banks County Historical Society, the battle was fought in October 1864 and ended in a victory for “Home Guard” members of the Confederacy against scavenger elements of the Union Army.14 At present, the area is more known as the Broad River region, and is actually within the city limits of Baldwin, Georgia. The exact address is 1366 Georgia Highway 105 and a marker remains there to signify his birth.

William H. Cobb was extremely motivated to further his education—maybe even more so after the arrival of his first son. He likely read the articles in local newspapers advertising the academic offerings at the North Georgia Agricultural College at Dahlonega, particularly with the prominent military department, and went forward and enrolled for the 1887–88 term. His brothers-in-law, Stephen and Carter Chitwood, also attended the college, and the trio likely traveled together back and forth between Dahlonega and Banks County. He was a model student and because of his staunch discipline and the leadership qualities demonstrated in military drill, was quickly promoted to the rank of sergeant by 1889 and sergeant major in 1890. He served as a lieutenant in his final year at the college and was part of the Class of 1892, graduating with a Bachelor of Arts and a teachers’ license. The college today is known as the University of North Georgia and the “military department” of Cobb’s day is acknowledged as the “Military College of Georgia.”15

In reporting on the Dahlonega graduates, the Atlanta Constitution stated that Cobb was a “man of intellect, a tireless worker, and of exemplary deportment.”16 Cobb was a member of the Decora Palaestra Society, and throughout his tenure at the North Georgia Agricultural College, he continued to progress as an orator.17 It got to the point that he was not only starring in debate competitions, but delivering presentation speeches during school exercises. He was said to be headed toward a career in law, but instead chose to remain an educator, taking up a position as principal of a school in Lavonia, later in 1892.18 The next year, he assumed direction at Harmony Grove High School in Jackson County. On September 11, 1893, he launched the fall term at the institution, offering a “splendid address” to the students and faculty.19

When Cobb spoke, he tended to combine a vast knowledge of his subject matter with words of inspiration. For instance, before the pupils at Harmony Grove, he extolled the virtues of higher education, stimulating the youth to seek out advanced enlightenment. Undoubtedly, that is what he envisioned for his son Tyrus and their two other children, John Paul and Florence Leslie, born in 1889 and 1892 respectively.20 He wanted to encourage the same kind of love for books that his father instilled in him.

During the summer of 1895, the Cobb Family moved to Carnesville, the county seat of Franklin County, and settled into their fourth home in four years. The Cobbs had lived in Banks County at the Chitwood residence in early 1892, Lavonia in 1892–93, Harmony Grove in 1893–95, and finally in Carnesville. As one might expect, the relocation was as a result of another job opportunity for William, this time as the principal at Carnesville High School. It also brought him closer to the movers and shakers of the county, including local politicians, bankers, businessmen, and other individuals who saw the potential in “Professor” Cobb. High schools in the late nineteenth century were different than they are commonly known today, and Carnesville taught students from at least first through ninth grades, meaning it was mostly comprised of children from ages seven to sixteen. Ty Cobb turned nine in December 1895, and would have likely been in third or fourth grade at the time. His studies would have included mathematics, reading, grammar, and spelling, as well as advanced classes in bookkeeping, correspondence, and business.21

Franklin County in northeastern Georgia was spread out across 344 square miles and, amidst the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, was both scenic and economically viable. William Cobb was positive that it offered the kind of life he wanted for his family. There was the availability to develop a plantation of his own, prospects to expand the school system, and a possible political future (if he decided to take that route). Carnesville was just about dead center of the county and it was fairly simple to venture northeast to Lavonia or southeast to Franklin Springs and Royston. In an early 1890s promotional piece, Carnesville was described as an “ideal place,” mostly because the “water [was] pure and abundant” and the “citizens [were] moral, progressive, and united.”22

These were small communities, however, and there were just over 14,000 inhabitants in the entire county during the early-to-mid 1890s. But that gave Cobb a better chance to make his mark as a leader, helping foster a more prosperous life for not only his family, but his neighbors as well. The Cobb family moved from Carnesville to Royston sometime around 1897, and once again, William transferred from one school job to another. Royston High School would be his final endeavor as a principal, although he’d never give up his work as an educator.23 In the late stages of the decade, he traveled back to Carnesville to mentor future teachers in what was called a “Normal” class. The local newspaper recommended that anyone “desiring to stand state examination would do well to attend.”24

Similar to their previous moves, Ty had to adjust to his new surroundings in Royston, and it wasn’t easy for the high-strung, sometimes elusive young man. Most of the kids around him had known their friends their whole lives, and he was essentially an outsider, trying to fit in with the crowd. Prone to be a bit cynical and cautious, he didn’t stray too far from his father’s wishes, and attended school like he was told. But he wasn’t entirely fascinated by studies in the way his father had been, and his attention seemed to wander. When around others, he was always on heightened defense, protective, and any perceived insult from a peer could easily draw out his temper.

“Ty has always been impetuous and head strong,” his mother Amanda explained in 1919. “Even when he was just a little tot in short clothes, he hated to lose an argument and he never did lose many. He was full of mischief in his boyhood days and he had fights in school. If a stronger boy would get the best of him, Ty would fight him every day or two until he finally won the verdict. He would never give up or admit that a lad could get the best of him.”25

Ty had an insatiable desire to win. Regardless of the competition, he centered his entire being on that solitary goal. But the reasoning behind his drive revealed a major characteristic of his personality that he would never grow out of. In his 1961 memoir, he explained how he felt “merely adequate” as a student, simply ordinary in terms of scholastic ambition and the antithesis of his father. Despite his young age, the “Professor” wanted him preoccupied with studies and working in the direction of a professional career. Ty wasn’t ready to make that kind of decision. He sought adventure, not confinement to a desk. But he wanted to measure up to his father and was frustrated by his natural inability to contend with Professor Cobb, mentally or physically. As a consequence, he became discouraged and ridden with anxieties. He also became immensely insecure, harboring a great need to prove himself a “real man.”26

In that state of self-doubt, he manifested his energy into physical attempts to substantiate his manhood, initially through schoolyard fighting. In his autobiography, Cobb said that he walked a precarious tightrope in Royston trying to prove he “could match the bigger boys.”27 But soon he’d enter the healthier realm of organized competition and apply himself the same way. Though, it wasn’t until he became utterly fascinated with baseball that he began to exhibit the type of passion that his father wanted him to give his schoolwork. Ty commented: “My first knowledge that I liked baseball was when I made my debut at school in Lavonia, Franklin County, Georgia. I was seven years old.”28 “He was always at play,” said Amanda Cobb, “and it was most always baseball, providing he could find any other boys of the neighborhood to play with him.” His mother admitted that her husband “scolded” Ty, hoping to dissuade him from wasting time on so useless of an activity.29 For a young man with college options or a possible West Point Military Academy appointment ahead of him, baseball was an ill-advised pursuit.

Attorney R. L. J. Smith told the Atlanta Journal in 1907 that “Young Tyrus first learned to play the great American game of baseball” in Harmony Grove, and since Cobb lived in that village between the ages of seven and nine, he was probably right. Smith added that Cobb, “as a typical Georgia boy, [had] spent some of his happiest childhood days upon the local diamond.” 30 According to Howell Foreman’s 1912 article in Baseball Magazine, Cobb participated in his “first real games” while residing in Carnesville and Ty would have been ten or eleven years old at the time. He represented the West End squad and played catcher against a team from the East End.31 These games were spirited encounters and Cobb enjoyed the rivalry. He was essentially still a novice, but loved the challenge baseball offered and wanted to do nothing else. He was thrilled whenever there was an opportunity to play in a corner lot or even a game of catch, and his enthusiasm only served to get stronger once the family moved to Royston.

Annoyed by his son’s infatuation, William worked tirelessly to alter Ty’s mindset. At the very least, he wanted to keep him busy enough so that he’d have no extra time to play ball. That meant chores, chores, and more chores on the fifteen-hundred acre family farm.32 After Ty expressed an inkling of interest in becoming a physician, William encouraged him to spend time with Fountain G. Moss, a Royston doctor. After helping “Doc” perform an operation and getting a good perspective of what a physician in rural America did on a daily basis, Cobb left the option open for his future.33 But, again, he wasn’t ready to make any long-term decisions. William, incidentally, was partial to Ty becoming a lawyer. Cobb, in 1947, wrote about his father, saying: “He hoped that I would follow his footsteps into public affairs and felt that legal training would be the best preparation. Many were the times we debated the matter, but neither of us budged.”34

The public affairs that Ty mentioned were Georgia politics, which William Cobb entered during the late 1890s. Unlike his father in North Carolina, William was a staunch Democrat and, not surprisingly, education was a key aspect of his platform. He was a proponent of fairness and respect toward African Americans and, by August 1899, had gained such a wide popularity that people were already touting a 1900 bid for Georgia State Senator.35 The following July, he won his party’s primary for the 31st District and the Atlanta Constitution predicted the election would probably end “in his favor.”36 On October 3, 1900, Cobb gained a majority of the vote over J. C. McCarter and became senator, a position he’d execute with the same kind of astuteness that he did everything else. Cobb was also elected Mayor of Royston, but the specific time-frame he served was not revealed.37 According to one unidentified source, Cobb was Royston Mayor in 1903.

The baseball culture in Franklin and surrounding counties was quite robust. In 1886, the Toccoa News declared that “Baseball threatens to become an extensive southern industry. It is very good for amusement, but it is a poor occupation.”38 And that’s the way it was treated: as a leisurely, yet spirited pursuit for young men already engaged in full-time schooling or careers. Teams represented just about every small village in the region from Harmony Grove to Elberton, and there was heavy encouragement for boys to head to the neighborhood diamond. In 1900, a journalist in Hartwell noticed a little too much “lounging listlessly around town” and told the kids to “shake your flabby muscles, shuffle off that lazy spell, and ‘play ball!’”39

Perhaps the most important aspect of localized baseball was the competitive nature of both the players and supporters, and the honor that was on the line in games against adjacent municipalities. Rooters went out to the park to cheer on their fellow townsmen and the athletes involved in the heated contests were often on the verge of fisticuffs. The bottom line was that no one wanted to lose and give away bragging rights. While no one on the regional circuit could make a living just playing ball, the more talented players were able to venture from location to location and garner extra coinage performing away from their hometown.

It was only fitting that Royston inaugurated a team of its own to enter the scramble for area baseball laurels. With an energetic citizenry, Royston had a population of just over 1,000, and featured a number of business and agricultural firms, helping it grow in size. The cotton gins, grocery and hardware stores, plus a variety of specialty shops offered residents an expanse of employment and shopping opportunities. Reverend Frank M. Hauser, who did a lengthy profile on the relatively young Royston community for the Augusta Chronicle, said, “It would put to shame many towns in Georgia twice her age in push and pluck.”40 Hence, when the baseball boom hit, not only was there a championship-level squad formed, but two others comprised of aspiring players striving for a shot with the big boys.

Ty Cobb was one of those youngsters. Pretty much guaranteed a slot on a secondary team, he turned up his nose and wanted nothing less than to stand alongside the older guys and prove to his father that his so-called wasted time was worthwhile. The preeminent club was managed by twenty-six-year-old Robert “Bob” McCrary, a bank clerk by trade. A short gentleman with an easygoing disposition, McCrary didn’t play favorites on his team and allowed open trials to find the very best athletes at each station. Along came thirteen-year-old Cobb, full of vim and vigor, and as animated as could be. What he lacked in experience he made up in energy, and McCrary was quite impressed. Even though Cobb only weighed somewhere between 90 and 100 pounds and appeared far too skinny, the manager acknowledged his potential and brought him into the fold.41

The decision wasn’t universally embraced, as many observers felt he was a good fielder, but lacking at the plate. McCrary ignored those comments and worked with Cobb at length, building up his batting “eye.” Cobb’s improvements were soon evident. In advance of a game in Elberton, there was a problem with the team’s regular centerfielder, and suddenly Cobb, who usually remained home when the squad went on the road, became a much needed substitute. What is believed to be another version of this same story was told by Ty’s uncle Clifford Ginn. However, he said the game was against Harmony Grove (Commerce) and the team was missing its shortstop, thus, the need for Cobb to participate. He said, “All were grown men except Cobb.” But Cobb was a starring feature in the contest, making three hits and accepting eight chances in the field without an error. Professor Cobb, who was reportedly at the game, rode back to the family farm with his son, and Ty “crawled under the buggy cushion and slept all the way home.”42 Cobb knew asking for his father’s permission was futile. There was no way the “Professor” would allow his teenage son to leave Royston to play foolish ball. And, actually, he had much more productive things for him to do, including work in the fields. McCrary, however, knew Ty’s father personally. They were both part of the Mason Brotherhood and, through that connection, he obtained the okay for Ty to travel with the club.43

In Professor Cobb’s mind, there were several concerns. For one, he wasn’t convinced baseball was a principled field of endeavor. He was aware of the rowdiness that sporadically took place which overshadowed any wholesome rivalry. The other concern was about Ty himself. When Howell Foreman obtained stories from the residents of Carnesville about Ty, he explained that locals remembered him for being a “chronic, continual scrapper.”44 Cobb knew his son was prone to aggression and he didn’t want his family embarrassed by some kind of outburst. Frankly, he wanted McCrary to supervise his son in Elberton, and the manager agreed. Young Cobb didn’t underachieve on that occasion. He hit demonically, leading Royston to victory. Later, Ty explained: “Let me tell you something, once an athlete feels that peculiar thrill that goes with victory and public praise, the fascination holds him for life. He can never get away from it. On the way back home from that game I made up my mind that I would try and be a great ballplayer and I worked at it by day and dreamed of it by night.”45

In addition to McCrary’s teachings, Cobb was proactive on his own as well. He made efforts to increase his speed, read publications offering tips, and in a desperate need to supplant his ragged glove, resorted to a bit of thievery. He snuck into his father’s office, pulled two ancient-looking books from the shelves, and dealt them for a new mitt.46 It was the perfect irony, swapping academic text—which his father wanted him so much to appreciate—for a tool of the ball yard, and essentially allowing him to further his real ambition.

The Royston Reds carried a roster of about ten players, and Cobb was several years younger than his teammates.47 But his age and lack of size were not going to hold him back, and when he was goaded by rivals or spectators, he used his anger as motivation. He nevertheless heard comments such as, “We’re not running a kindergarten class. This is a man’s baseball nine!”48 Laughter and mocking accompanied the barbs, and Cobb was immensely sensitive to the ridicule. He wasn’t a quitter, though, and he performed his duties at shortstop to the best of his abilities, learning from his mistakes, and fueled by the desire to show his critics how wrong they were. Ever determined, he experienced bumps in the road but, after all, as he said it years later, “I was simply a kid playing with grownups.”49

Joseph Cunningham, a right fielder for Royston, was four years older than Cobb and one of his closest friends. Cunningham lived down the street from Cobb, and the two bonded over baseball, fashioning their own home-produced bats using Cunningham’s father’s carpentry tools.50 Balls were created in an equally creative way. They would take little rubber spheres, wind string around them, and then apply leather covers. It also wasn’t unusual to see small town players wearing coarse, hand-crafted uniforms, and the athletes in Franklin County were no exception.51 From the ages of thirteen to sixteen, Cobb took great pride in wearing the red attire, and developed from an undersized boy into a robust young man while partaking in games for the honor of his hometown. In that same time, he morphed from a greenhorn into a pretty crafty ballplayer … but he still had much to learn.

Interestingly enough, he’d adopted a habit early in his baseball days that remained throughout his career, and that was the way he gripped a bat. He was inclined to space his hands a few inches apart on the handle, whereas most other players swung with both fists together. The technique wasn’t based on an instinctive personal knowledge of how to successfully garner hits, but because, as a skinny kid, he was unable to swing the bat using the standard form. Cobb, who batted left-handed, compensated for his weakness and figured out the best way to be productive at the plate.52 As he got older and stronger, he could have reworked his methods to be more traditional, but wasn’t comfortable making the change.

In July 1903, a squad from nearby Hartwell entered a three-game series versus Anderson, South Carolina, its top rival from just over the Savannah River. A formidable lineup, Hartwell proceeded to trample the visiting club, 11–1 and 10–1 in the first two contests. Before the final game, several Anderson players deserted the team, refusing to suffer any more shame, and manager McKinney, in a terrific bind, sought local substitutes. From Royston, 15 miles away, he recruited either Bob or Jim McCrary, Emory Bagwell, Clifford Ginn, and, according to the Hartwell Sun, two athletes named Cobb. The newspaper indicated that one of the players was “T. Cobb,” and it can be surmised that this was, indeed, Ty. The other Cobb might have been his younger brother, Paul, fourteen years old at the time. A third “Cobb” was also in the game, but this one, Joe Cobb, played for Hartwell and had no direct relation. The influx of local blood turned the competition into “the most brilliant, the most exciting, and by far the best game ever played in Hartwell.” After 12 innings, the home team squeezed out a win, 2–1.53

For his involvement, Ty earned a little over a dollar and became a professional ballplayer. After Cobb became famous, a more dramatic narrative of his pro debut was distributed, and colorful sportswriters painted a breathtaking and heroic finish for Cobb. Chicago Cubs catcher Jimmy Archer, who played with Detroit and Cobb briefly in 1907, told the version he heard, which was Ty’s “favorite story.” He said that Cobb, with two outs in the bottom of the 14th inning, hit a dramatic home run to give his team the victory.54 In reality, Ty played no part in the finish of the game. There are innumerable other inconsistencies between what really happened in 1903 and the “legend” that was created for Cobb in later years. Almost every account is different. In his autobiography, Cobb said he became pro after playing two games for Anderson and earned $2.50. He regretted it because he had wanted to retain his amateur status.55

Back home, Professor Cobb wasn’t altogether excited by the sudden advancement of his teenaged son’s career. While he certainly expected Ty to become an expert in his vocation of choice, he was steadfast in his belief that baseball was not an appropriate occupation. “Ty used to worry his father very much,” Amanda Cobb explained in 1912. “Mr. Cobb insisted that he should become a professional man, as he maintained that we had the means to give him the best possible education. He was the oldest child and he took up the most of our time.”56 But the endless attempts to discourage baseball were falling on deaf ears, and Professor Cobb was starting to believe that perhaps the best way to deal with the matter was to let Ty learn from his mistakes, of which, a venture into baseball surely was.

Clued into the neighborhood buzz, Professor Cobb received numerous reports about the extraordinary success of his son on the diamond. Finally, for a contest against Harmony Grove, he decided to go out and see for himself. That was a special, yet nerve-racking afternoon for Ty, and it was hard not to be overwhelmed by his father’s presence. But he was even more motivated than ever to show his value as a ballplayer and, in the eighth inning, Ty (now playing centerfield) made a heroic diving catch. “The catch saved the game, and I can truthfully say I never made a better one in my life,” he said years later. “When I came in, the spectators were crazy with joy and they began tossing me money. I picked up eleven dollars in quarters and half dollars. My father was so carried away with my performance that he immediately became a fan.”57

The Royston club played exceptionally well during the summer of 1903. Over two days in August, Cobb and his mates beat a combination of players (called “picked teams”) from Harmony Grove, Ashland, and other local towns, and the scores, 5–0 and 16–3, were decidedly in their favor.58 The solid pitching of Emory Bagwell and Stewart Brown were noteworthy, as was the ever-increasing offensive display from Cobb. Add the upsurge of Cobb’s daring on the basepaths and he was quickly becoming the talk of northeastern Georgia. Meanwhile, the club had received a letter from an ex-teammate, Thomas Van Bagwell, Emory’s older brother, who had traveled up into the Southern Association to get a tryout with the Nashville Volunteers.59 He shared information about his experiences, from what pros were like at that level to the hotels they stayed at. “I read it and reread it,” Cobb later said.60

“Nothing could keep me down from satisfying my ambition of showing that I could be as good as any of them,” Cobb remembered.61 His itch to prove himself was evident, and even though Bagwell would return to the Georgia circuit, not having achieved a regular berth on a minor league club, Cobb was determined to be a success.

In late 1903, news reached Royston that the city of Augusta, about 100 miles southeast, was joining the newly structured South Atlantic League, a Class C organization governed by Organized Baseball. Augusta would be known as the “Tourists” and the South Atlantic League was also called the Sally League. It was comprised of clubs representing the following cities: Augusta, Savannah, and Macon, Georgia, Jacksonville, Florida, and Columbia and Charleston, South Carolina. Inspired by the report, Cobb smartly realized that there was a hunt under way for competent players to fill the rosters of the six teams in the new league and mailed off inquiries to each of the various clubs about a possible tryout. A back channel to the Augusta team was opened when Reverend John F. Yarborough, a Methodist preacher in Franklin County, contacted W. H. Sherman, who had managed the Augusta independent club in 1903, and was well connected.62 A few decades later, however, Cobb took offense to the claims that Yarborough was an influence on him as a young player. He wrote in his book that the Reverend had “nothing whatever to do with my development.”63 In his autobiography, Cobb said that only one manager responded to his inquiries, and that was Strouthers. But in a 1913 article, he noted that George “King” Kelly of the Jacksonville franchise also “politely answered,” but told him there were no opportunities on his team.64 In the end, it was Augusta manager John “Con” Strothers who agreed to give Cobb a trial, but the youngster was responsible for his own expenses, including travel, room and board.

With what he understood to be the opportunity of a lifetime in front of him, Cobb was overjoyed and a little overwhelmed. The challenge of competing against older players was something he’d faced his entire life, but he’d never stepped onto a league diamond and matched up against real professionals. It was now a matter of flying the coop and either performing up to league standards or returning to Royston a failure. On the eve of his Augustan venture, he broke the news to his father and the two debated for hours. The professor knew his son was capable and he’d witnessed his excellent play firsthand, but in a last ditch effort to convince him to attend college instead, he applied a “sound and logical” argument. Cobb endured the eloquent lecture, his mind firm, and his father had no choice but to give in. His father gave him six checks at $15 apiece to pay for expenses while in Augusta.65 Grateful to have his father’s consent, Cobb later said, “I left with a great new love and respect for the man.”66

Accompanied by his teammate Stewart Brown, who was also interested in a pro career, Cobb headed for Augusta and was amongst the first batch of players to appear at Warren Park for spring training in early April 1904. He stood out in his red hometown jersey, and his black bat was conspicuous, especially as he awed spectators with his hitting.67 Almost from his arrival, the Augusta Chronicle lauded his work, and his childlike enthusiasm was on display in everything he did. Tourists catcher Dave Edmunds applied the first baseball-related nickname to the high-energy outfielder, calling him “Sleuth,” and a newspaper writer explained that it was presumably because he copped all the balls hit in his direction.68

But his abundance of pep was creating an annoyance for manager Strothers. The latter explained: “Cobb was a player that couldn’t help being noticed by any manager. He never was still a minute. He would run up to the bat, and if he happened to be thrown out at first, he would run all the way back to the bench like a race horse. Of course, he was nothing but a kid then, and no matter how often I told him to keep cool, he would persist in skipping about on the dead run, which made my ball team look amateurish. I used to say to him, ‘Now, walk up to the bat and look the situation over, see who is on the bases, where the fielders are playing for you and get your signal.’”69 The words of wisdom didn’t resonate and Cobb continued to do things his way, dashing around the diamond with a gleeful exuberance.

Strouthers cut his excess talent, including Brown, and worked to stay under the $1,000 salary limit for each team in the league. Cobb was expected to remain, but play off the bench as a utility player receiving $90 a month, though Strouthers later said, “I signed him for $50 a month.”70 In advance of the season opener on April 26, Andy Roth, a high-profile signee, was barred from competing after a controversy sprung up involving the National Baseball Commission. As a result, Cobb went into the game, participating in his first league contest. Most Cobb books claim that it was first baseman Harry Bussey who had trouble prior to the opener, but Roth had been recalled by the Nashville club, and the National Commission stepped in. Strouthers went forward and paid a sum to clear Roth to play in the second game. Bussey was in the lineup for both the first and second games of the season. In game two, Cobb, Bussey and Roth were in the lineup.71 Cobb was seventh in the lineup and played center, and, without question, made a big splash with the 2,000 people in attendance at the local park. He doubled in the eighth inning, stole third, and scored. In the ninth he blasted a solo home run over the left-field fence, trying to set up a last minute rally. Unfortunately Augusta faltered, and Columbia won, 8–7. The next afternoon, Cobb went 0-for-2 with a run, and shortly thereafter was abruptly released.72 It has been reported that Cobb was let go for not going through with a sacrifice bunt when told.73 Strothers it seemed, had no use for the Royston prodigy.

Dejected, Cobb called his father looking for guidance. He explained his predicament and told the professor that a pitcher named Fred Hays, also released from Augusta, discussed an opportunity to play with a club in Anniston, Alabama, in the Tennessee-Alabama League.74 “You accept that offer, and don’t come home a failure,” his father told him, now fully pulling for him to succeed in his baseball endeavors. Cobb later explained, “Those, I think, were the most important words in my life.”75

The weight of his father’s support was immeasurable, and Cobb’s determination was renewed en route to Anniston, which was 237 miles away in the eastern part of Alabama. Before him was another test of his fortitude, and the newly instituted independent organization, made up of eight clubs to include Knoxville and Chattanooga, was on less sturdier financial ground than the Sally League. But Cobb didn’t hesitate to sign a $50 per month contract on April 29, and boarded with the family of Edna Darden, a widow originally from Georgia.76 The season launched seventeen days later, but Anniston was defeated in their opener by Bessemer, Alabama, 9–4. Cobb got four hits over his next two games, kick-starting a winning streak that sent Anniston to the top of the league with an 8–1 record. However, the team nosedived in June, falling to sixth place (14–18).77

Fielding errors by the club were a constant problem and crowds became indifferent to the shoddy work. Cobb went through some tough growing pains of his own, and the routine hazing of young players was at the root of his troubles. Teammates got a thrill out of calling him “Kid,” a name he utterly despised, and he felt the nickname was disrespectful to the point of wanting to fight whoever used it toward him. Ed Darden, son of his housemother and roommate, remembered Cobb some years later: “He wasn’t too aggressive when he first came here, but as his skills grew, you could see his spirit grow. I remember he had a couple of fights with members of his own team because of the kidding [at his expense].”78 Homesickness and the stress brought on by the bullying tactics caused him to throw in the towel at one point. He packed his bags and began for Royston, only to be convinced to stay at the last minute.79

Long before the season was set to end, Anniston unceremoniously folded on July 11 and management difficulties were to blame.80 Cobb had been a bright spot for the doomed franchise, running the bases and fielding with skill, and batting over .300. In 1968, a comprehensive study of his time there was conducted by a handful of researchers and 27 box-scores involving Cobb were located. It was found that he had achieved a .336 batting average with 37 hits, 20 runs, 10 stolen bases, three doubles, seven triples, and four errors. This information was still incomplete because it was believed that Cobb played a total of 45 games while in Anniston.81 Ironically, back in Augusta, Strothers was struggling and in serious need of a consistent hitter. He sought to regain custody of Cobb, but Ty declined the job, demonstrating his pride in not wanting to work for the man who fired him. Within days, the Augusta club changed owners and H. W. Wingard, the new manager, made the same efforts to retrieve Cobb. This time, the latter was receptive. He reported on August 9 and played out the final month. He was one of only two players in the lineup on the final day of the season who appeared in the opener in April—the other being third baseman William Spratt.82 Not unlike Anniston, Augusta was dreadful from top to bottom, and firmly settled in the basement of the South Atlantic League, finishing 1904 with a 41–73 record.

Cobb batted .237 in 37 games for Augusta, and although there wasn’t much to celebrate, he was one of the first five players engaged for spring camp by new team manager Andy Roth. His potential had been recognized, but it was up to him to shine on the field if he wanted a real spot on the roster.83 Beginning in mid-March 1905, he pulled out all the stops at Warren Park and, once again, an observer for the local newspaper predicated nothing but good things for the youngster. In exhibition games against the Detroit Tigers of the American League, in what was Cobb’s first look at major league pitching, he displayed versatility at bat, hitting out long triples and reaching first on bunts.84 His quickness leaving the plate was also noteworthy and it was hard not to notice that he stood out a little more than his contemporaries.

Oddly, the Augusta Chronicle offered advice to Cobb in what was likely an extension of Roth’s managerial guidance in the dugout. The paper cautioned the outfielder to withhold his “reckless endeavors” on the basepaths, telling him, “You are not in the amateur game now.”85 In another edition, a journalist stated, “A little improvement in his judgment on the bases,” and he would “land safe and sound.”86 But that isn’t what Cobb wanted to hear. He wanted to run on his own instincts, regardless of what Roth or anyone else advised. After making the team and heading into the regular season, Cobb continued his rebellious ways. During a game versus Jacksonville, he doubled, but unadvisedly decided to try to extend the hit into a triple. He was easily thrown out and the team eventually lost.

The embarrassment was personal, Cobb felt, and he certainly didn’t want to be lectured about it. Roth later recalled the incident, saying, “When I censured him, [Cobb] threatened to pull his revolver on me in a local cigar store and I seized a hatchet. Bystanders interfered and Cobb and I had a serious talk over the matter to the satisfaction of both of us.”87 Based on his independent nature and the fact that it didn’t take much to make him mad, Cobb’s teammates applied the same type of schoolyard harassment that was seen in Anniston. One of his primary tormentors was third baseman Gus Ruhland, and the two were destined to come to blows. Cobb did eventually fight Ruhland and “proceeded to make hamburger” out of him.88 But thirty-four-year-old George Leidy of Phillipsburg, New Jersey, a fellow outfielder, recommended that Cobb avoid trouble. To that point, in almost every situation, Cobb had simply refused to listen to advice, but somehow, Leidy was able to get through to him.

Prior to being influenced by Leidy, Cobb was a lot less focused on baseball success. He said: “My main trouble at the start was that I didn’t take my job on the Augusta team seriously. I will never forget the first time I was benched. I used to like my peanut taffy, and one day I went out to centre field chewing on a big hunk of this candy. A fly ball was hit out to me, but I forgot to throw away the candy, and everything got so mixed up that I lost the ball and, incidentally, the game. For that I was benched, and I should have been.”89

It took time for Cobb to see this, and Leidy helped, soon becoming his primary mentor. Involved in some form of the sport since the late 1880s, Leidy was a bona fide veteran of baseball and knew all the tricks to the game. His real talent lay in the way he related to and educated others, and he provided a wealth of knowledge to younger players at the drop of a hat. With Cobb, he saw outstanding potential and committed to teaching him everything from aiming bunts to specific parts of the infield to sliding properly to the famous hit-and-run. Additionally, Leidy not only enlightened Cobb to the psychology of baseball, but used a little psychology of his own to further inspire the prodigious teen. He relayed enthralling stories of life in the majors and confidently said that Cobb, if he continued to develop, was a surefire future big leaguer.90 In response, Ty’s imagination ran wild.

Between May and June, 1905, Cobb’s batting average rose nearly 70 points from .243 to .312. At the end of July, he became the first player in the league to attain 100 hits and a reporter wrote, “It is interesting to note that he is ten or fifteen hits ahead” of his peers in that regard.91 There were rumors of major league scouts roaming the circuit, and it was apparent that Cobb was being closely watched. Augusta played a doubleheader at Columbia on August 5 with Cobb in the lineup, and then journeyed to Jacksonville for a series beginning on Monday, August 7. For whatever reason, and possibly because of a thumb injury, Cobb sat out the next two games. In fact, it is unclear whether Cobb went to Jacksonville for the series at all.92 On the evening of August 8, a tragedy was suffered back home in Royston, and yet hours would go by before Ty learned the news that his beloved father had been shot and killed.

Professor Cobb, state senator in 1900–01 and the Franklin County School Commissioner since 1902, was a gentleman of great distinction in Georgia. The forty-two-year-old dignitary had done admirable work in advancing the cause of education in his county and there were preliminary rumblings that he was on a short list to one day become state school commissioner. He was the proud father of three children, the husband of a “very beautiful woman,” and seemingly enjoying an honorable existence.93 But in the aftermath of his murder, people were left to speculate why his wife of nineteen years pulled the trigger on that fateful night and sentenced him to death.

The stunning news was front page material across Georgia, including in both the Atlanta Journal and Atlanta Constitution, and received some national coverage. Almost immediately, Amanda Cobb was a suspect in what was believed to be a case of manslaughter. Before the Franklin County Coroner’s Jury, she offered a lengthy statement, explaining that she had awoken overnight and heard a “kind of rustling” outside the window. Upon examination, she spotted a human figure, but was unable to see who it was or what the individual was doing on the veranda of the home. “The form seemed to crouch down,” she said, armed with a pistol her husband had given her for home defense.94 “I stood at the upper side of the window and pulled the shade to one side and shot twice.” Her aim was unfortunately impeccable, and Professor Cobb was hit twice, once in the head and again in the stomach. Amanda claimed that Professor Cobb was a sleepwalker and may have been walking in his sleep.95

Despite her explanation, Amanda was encircled by suspicion. After the burial of her husband on August 10, she was arrested. She never denied pulling the trigger, but thought the house was being burglarized and said it was a horrible accident. As far as she knew, her husband had left for Atlanta earlier in the day and was not expected home until Thursday. She never thought for a minute it was him outside their home and once she realized what had occurred, became “prostrate with grief,” according to the Columbus Ledger.96 The story was quickly sensationalized by reports of Amanda’s alleged infidelity and the assertion that Cobb had been told to “keep watch over his home.” In an effort to do so without anyone knowing, he initially left home on business, only to return on foot that night with a rock and a pistol in his coat pocket. En route home, Cobb was spotted, but a witness thought he was trying not to be identified. Soon thereafter, the accidental murder transpired.

The once impeccable Cobb family was subjected to intense public scrutiny as Amanda Cobb’s trial was scheduled for March 1906 and she was released on $7,000 bond.97 Eighteen-year-old Ty was overcome with sadness and shame. His father’s death was beyond comprehension and he expressed very little, if anything, publicly. The Cobb children denied the scandalous rumors of domestic discord and cited “perfect harmony” in their family.98 Ty was the recipient of the baseball public’s sympathy in Augusta and the local paper stated, “Being only a boy yet in his teens, the blow will be particularly a hard one, especially on account of its tragic nature.”99 Swallowing his pain, Cobb returned to the lineup for a doubleheader on August 16, but three days later, he heard what should have been the greatest bit of information in his young life. The Detroit Tigers were in need of a good hitting outfielder, and with the help of scouts Henry Youngman, a deal for Cobb was made.100 But, considering all that was going on, his sale to the Detroit Tigers was overshadowed by anguish. Nonetheless, he was headed for the major leagues.

All things considered, Ty Cobb was a rare phenom with the kind of innate value that could one day be the foundation of a championship team. Augusta had seen his fine play all year and in his final appearance on August 25, 1905, he was given a gold watch as a gift from the club and fans. Cobb relished the special recognition of his work, calling it his “proudest possession.”101 His .326 average in 103 games spoke volumes about his ability to hit, but there was a significant jump in the quality of pitchers from Class C to the majors, and whether Cobb had what it took to be successful was something still to be determined. But in the back of his mind, echoing loudly, were his father’s words: “Don’t come home a failure.” He didn’t intend to.