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 transfer 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 catch 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
Once word of the case went public in late May, papers across the country picked up on the story, and it was of great interest that Cobb completely dismissed his first court appearance.
In response, Wayne County Circuit Court Judge Clyde Webster issued a victory to Morris by default.29 Former judge James O. Murfin, who represented Cobb in the infamous 1914 butcher assault case, contested the decision, and a grueling legal battle ensued. The Chicago Defender mentioned that representatives of the ballplayer were endeavoring to settle out of court by offering a miniscule sum of money. That tactic had worked in yet another of Cobb’s controversial affairs when an under-the-table payment of $115 was paid to night watchman George Stanfield ten years earlier.30 But this time around, Morris and her lawyer were steadfast and denied Cobb an easy way out.31
The lack of rounded coverage, detailed statements from both sides, and other witness reports left the entire situation with an overtone of ambiguity. But based on Cobb’s track record and the way political muscle assembled to support his defense as in times past, there was enough to bolster the credibility of the alleged evidence—at least somewhat. The fact that neither Morris nor Cobb stepped forward with a detailed description of what occurred—and there were absolutely zero independent accounts from eyewitnesses—contributed to the uncertainty of the case. Adding to the mysteriousness, the result of the $10,000 civil action was never publicly revealed by the mainstream press. The story went away in a cloud of silence, just like Cobb and his backers had hoped, and it is possible that a settlement was eventually reached.32
Cobb’s season, in spite of the legal chaos, didn’t miss much of a beat. His solo numbers were first-rate, as were customary, but the Tigers loomed as a pretty solid second division club for most of May. There was still optimism, as his production, combined with Bobby Veach, Harry Heilmann, and Ira Flagstead, created many concerns for opposing pitchers.33 Frank Navin, in trying to give Detroit better chances down the stretch, sent $12,000 to the Yankees for left-hander Dutch Leonard in May 1919, and on the surface, the move seemed like a positive step. Leonard joined “Hooks” Dauss, Bernie Boland, and Howard Ehmke to complete the club’s quartet of starters, and helped push the Tigers into second place during an important road trip east in late July and early August. The excursion wrapped up with sweeps of both Washington and Philadelphia.
On September 4, 1919, a loudmouth from the stands at Navin Field was desperate for Cobb’s attention and called him a number of “vile epithets.” The tension slowly developed, and Cobb, at first, was able to ignore the earsplitting comments. His point of no return was inching closer and closer, and he walked over to the side of the field where the boisterous spectator was sitting and warned him on two occasions, even challenging the man to a fight after the game. The rowdy was not backing down for a moment, apparently unafraid of the consequences, and once the final out was made, he rushed onto the field to confront the Georgian. Needless to say, Cobb was in no mood for extra innings with a foolhardy hood, and he didn’t waste any time kneeing the man in the groin and walking to the clubhouse, his day’s work at an end.34
“I don’t like brawls,” Cobb explained, “and avoid them whenever possible. All players could avoid such unpleasantness and abuse if men like that one this afternoon were not permitted in the stands. They should be ejected from the ball park when they become as nasty and abusive as that fellow became to me this afternoon. He deliberately put himself out to ride and insult me. Some of these bullies apparently think that as soon as a man puts on a baseball uniform, he becomes fair game. I disagree with that theory. These insulting fellows wouldn’t dare go into a man’s office and call him the names they call ball players. They wouldn’t go into a theater and abuse actors as they abuse us. This ball park is our office and we are entitled to a certain amount of respect. So far as I am concerned, I mean to insist upon that little measure of success.”35
The Tigers lost their hold on second place in a competitive race for the American League pennant, and landed in fourth place behind Chicago, Cleveland, and New York, eight games out of first.36 The White Sox, led by “Shoeless” Joe Jackson, Eddie Collins, and Cobb’s old Augusta teammate, Eddie Cicotte, were destined for the World Series against the Cincinnati Reds, and, considering the level of talent on the club, were a reasonably safe bet to win the championship. Cobb thought so, and placed wagers on the first two games. But when the results came back, 9–1 and 4–2 in favor of Cincinnati, he was out $50 and $100, respectively.37 The Reds captured three additional contests, surprising many observers, and won the series. Outside factors, it was later revealed, had influenced a certain element of the Chicago ball club, and the “Black Sox” were doomed for defeat in a shameful display of corruption.
Ending his year with a .384 average, Cobb won his third-straight major league batting title and eleventh overall (twelfth in the AL).38 His accomplishment was impressive, but strikingly overshadowed by the play of twenty-four-year-old George Herman “Babe” Ruth of the Boston Red Sox. Ruth was a colorful six-year veteran and known mostly as a pitcher. But his transition to the outfield placed him in the everyday lineup and gave him the chance to demonstrate an extraordinary slugging power, which was unparalleled in baseball history. In 1919, he blasted 29 home runs and set a new single-season record, electrifying crowds across the league circuit. He topped the majors in on-base percentage (.456), slugging percentage (.657), RBIs (113), runs scored (103), and total bases (284), and was fast becoming the most popular man in the game.
Cobb acknowledged Ruth as a “natural slugger” first in 1915, and was complimentary of the young up-and-comer in a couple of his syndicated articles.39 During the subsequent Detroit-Boston rivalry, the two were undoubtedly fired up by the friction on the field, but there were no specific hints of a personal feud. That began to change in 1919, and writers fueled the mounting antagonism by almost incessant head-to-head comparisons of Cobb and Ruth. Pundits partial to Babe predicted he’d once and for all end the batting championship streak of the Georgian, and minimized Cobb’s abilities to ballyhoo their hero. Detroit manager Hugh Jennings came to his player’s defense, declaring, “For years Cobb has been the hitting marvel of baseball. I’d rather have one Cobb than five Ruths!”40
In recognizing his own increased value, Ruth created a sensation by issuing an ultimatum to Boston management, demanding $20,000 for 1920 despite the fact that he already had signed a three-year deal for half that amount. If he didn’t receive the money, Ruth declared he wanted to be traded at once.41 Cobb heard the story and spoke out against such a move, saying: “Ruth, having signed to play for $9,000 is not playing fair if he tries to hold up his employers for more while the contract is in force. I’m for a ball player getting all he’s worth, but I am opposed to his breaking a contract to do it. And that’s what Ruth says he intends to do.”42 The inference that he was a contract jumper made Ruth furious, and he told the press, “I’ll settle the question when I meet Cobb [next spring].” Journalists took that to mean he planned to instigate a fight with his growing rival. Ruth added, “Cobb must be jealous of me because the newspapers have played me up this year as the biggest attraction in baseball.”43
Any concerns Cobb might have about Ruth and the brewing contentiousness were shelved to attend to his ailing wife in Augusta. On September 19, she gave birth to their fourth child, an eight-pound girl they named Beverly, and was in poor health. Cobb immediately journeyed home following the season closer at Chicago and tended to his family. Business was a secondary priority, and as his wife improved, he was able to devote time to preparations for the grand opening of his tire business on October 20.44 Through the winter, he spent time hunting, working with his dogs, and was involved in a prominent real estate transaction for the Schneider Building in downtown Augusta.45
Rumors at the end of Detroit’s 1919 season talked of team dissension and insiders once again claimed that the majority of managerial decisions were being made by Cobb, not Jennings. Some sportswriters awaited an official announcement by Navin declaring Ty the new boss, but it never came. Spring training picked up in March 1920 at Macon, and while Cobb remained a stone’s throw from his teammates, he never chose to make the trip from Augusta. When questioned about his failure to appear, Cobb said he was “already in perfect condition,” and didn’t believe any additional preparations were necessary. Furthermore, he mentioned the likelihood of soon retiring, a theme that bobbed up in late 1918. “This will probably be my last season on the ball field,” he declared.46
As the Tigers went up the East Coast in an exhibition series against the Boston Braves, Cobb was scheduled to catch up with the club at Greensboro, North Carolina, on March 31, but illness put a damper on those plans.47 He instead entered the lineup at Indianapolis on April 10, and, four days later, inaugurated the championship campaign with the Tigers squad versus Chicago in a 3–2 loss. The next twelve games ended similarly, and by May 2, the team was in last place with an embarrassing 0–13 record. There was plenty of time for recovery, but Detroit was lackluster in nearly every category, and even Cobb was faltering. It was startling how inaccurate the preseason “dope” had been, as many sportswriters pegged the Tigers as challengers for, at least, second place. The club was not up amongst the league’s best, but rather at the bottom of the barrel.
Struggling pitchers, low morale, and poor overall leadership was a recipe for disaster for Detroit. No remedy came from Cobb and his old-time superhero act was unavailable, primarily because he was having troubles of his own. His batting average was in the .250 range by mid-May, and physical impairments were almost consistent. A shoulder injury slowed him up a bit, and his left elbow was bruised after being hit by a fastball from Allan Sothoron of the St. Louis Browns on May 30. In the 10th inning of a game at Chicago on June 6, he collided with right-fielder Ira Flagstead chasing a ball and was carried to the dugout in bad shape. The Detroit Free Press indicated that he was “grievously hurt” in the accident, and initial reports had him on the sidelines for up to ten days.48
Cobb, with torn ligaments in his left leg, was much worse off than journalists supposed, and would be out of action for a month. Oddly, the speculation then went in the opposite direction, asserting that his career was finished. He scoffed at the guesswork of baseball experts and stated that he’d be back in the lineup by July 15.49 In the meantime, he hobbled around the Augusta area recuperating, and took in a couple of local ballgames. He also signed a deal, believed to be valued at upwards of $10,000, to participate in a series of exhibitions in California after the season in what would be his first West Coast jaunt.50 The trip was something to look forward to, but in the interim, he needed to regain his strength and rejoin his teammates.
On July 8, Cobb reemerged in a Detroit uniform and added an important RBI in a 4–3 victory at the Polo Grounds in New York.51 Before the series in New York concluded, Cobb and Ruth gave the fans a thrill by homering in the same game on July 11. It was Babe’s 27th of the year, and only the second for Cobb. A couple days later, Cobb reinjured his leg sliding into second at Fenway Park. His injury appeared devastating to one Detroit journalist, who promptly declared that he “might not play again” in 1920.52 Cobb, however, loved to prove the naysayers wrong and fought through the pain to go 3-for-4 for Detroit two games later, on July 16. He was determined to remain on the field.
The baseball community as a whole was horrified by the news from New York on August 16, 1920, that popular shortstop Ray Chapman of the Cleveland Indians had been hit in the head by a pitch and critically wounded. Suffering a fractured skull and bleeding on the brain, he succumbed to his injuries overnight following an unsuccessful surgery at a Manhattan hospital. At the time, historian Frederick G. Lieb wrote, “The biggest tragedy that major league baseball ever has known in nearly fifty years of operation befell the great American sport this morning” when Chapman passed away.53 His death marked the first fatality at the big league level, and, of course, there was an immediate response from the public, officials, and players to reprimand the pitcher at fault for the high and inside ball that caused his mortal wounds—accident or not. The attention was now on Carl Mays, the controversial hurler for the New York Yankees.
The Tigers were in Boston, and Cobb was sound asleep when he received a late night telephone call, informing him of Chapman’s death. A journalist wanted an instant reaction, and Cobb offered a few words. But the next morning’s paper included statements attributed to the Detroit outfielder that Ty insisted he didn’t make, specifically comments that he wanted Mays banned from baseball. In fact, Detroit and Boston players were said to be organizing an effort to sit out any game Mays was scheduled to pitch against them. New York pressmen recited the remarks reportedly said by Cobb and fans were eager for the latter’s arrival at the Polo Grounds on August 21. The huge throng of over 30,000 people bombarded Cobb with jeers, boos, and taunts, letting the Detroiter know just how they felt.54
“This hissing of Cobb is the most unjust thing of his career,” Hugh Jennings said after the game. “He certainly does not deserve it, as he absolutely is guiltless of doing or saying anything to hurt Mays.”55 The rough treatment motivated Cobb at the plate on August 22 and he went 5-for-6 with four singles, a double, two runs, and two RBIs in an 11–9 victory. Years later, Jack Stevens, host of The Inside of Sports for the Mutual Radio Network, remembered the incident, and recalled how Cobb responded to the booing. “Ty kept grinning and pounding out hits,” Stevens said. “He hit five in a row and then the boos gave way to cheers. After Ty had slapped his fifth hit, the stands fairly rocked with applause, the gathering of 40,000 giving him the greatest ovation he ever received” at the local stadium.56
Cleveland, with the spirit of Chapman in their corner and the sympathy of fans nationwide, won the 1920 American League pennant and then captured the World Series title from Brooklyn, five games to two. The Tigers were 37 games behind the Indians in the race, finishing in seventh with a record of 61–93. Unstable pitching was a central problem, as the team’s top five hurlers, Hooks Dauss, Howard Ehmke, Red Oldham, Dutch Leonard, and Doc Ayers each had a losing record. Cobb’s .334 batting average in 112 games placed him tenth in the league behind George Sisler, Tris Speaker, Joe Jackson, Babe Ruth, Eddie Collins, and others. He didn’t rate amongst the leaders in hits, runs, RBIs, or stolen bases, and actually, his 15 pilfered bags were his lowest total since 1905, his first year in the majors. Months earlier, Jennings said he noticed Cobb was slowing up, and Ty’s susceptibleness to injury, especially when it came to his legs, seemed to confirm that he was no longer the natural speed demon he once was.57
The Chicago White Sox were 96 game winners in 1920, and landed in second place just two games behind Cleveland. But the team was fractured beyond repair after a couple players who’d participated in a systematic effort to throw games during the 1919 World Series revealed their stories. Two of Cobb’s acquaintances, Eddie Cicotte and Joe Jackson, were at the heart of the swindle, and the damaging controversy threatened the sanctity of major league baseball. Regardless of the allegations and the result of the series, it was impossible to definitively say which players played crooked. Yet, it wasn’t impossible to say which players took tainted money from gamblers, and both Cicotte and Jackson were guilty. They were lumped into a bunch and altogether banned from Organized Baseball forever by newly established Baseball Commissioner Judge Kenesaw M. Landis.
Cobb held “Shoeless” Joe in the highest regard. That was evidenced by his comments to a reporter in Jackson’s hometown of Greenville, South Carolina in 1942. “I don’t care how we feel or what some folks may say about some of the tragic incidents in that man’s baseball life. You can’t take away from him the fact that he was the greatest hitter the game has known. He was greater than I, although I managed to top him in the records each year we fought it out for the batting titles. Jackson could hit any kind of a pitch, from his shoe-tops to his head. There may have been some things I could do better, such as dragging bunts, and they say I had a faster getaway from the plate on the swing. But Jackson never was fooled up there, and I think he had the best eyes, and the keenest reflexes, of any hitter I ever saw.”58
Not surprisingly, based on the listless performance of his club, Jennings tendered his resignation as manager of the Tigers on October 15, 1920.59 In his fourteen years as skipper, the team had captured three pennants and finished in the top four of the standings, ten times. Jennings’ passive style of management was unique and allowed Cobb the freedom to independently prosper without overbearing supervision. When volatile situations arose, instead of arguing with his temperamental outfielder, Hugh often looked the other way. These incidents were sometimes interpreted as Jennings playing favorites with Cobb, but, all things considered, the two complemented each other in many ways. Certainly, Cobb’s progression as a superstar athlete would have advanced differently under a manager other than Jennings.
Of course, Cobb was considered as a possible replacement, but he long maintained that he never wanted to manage while still an active player.60 The June before, he’d spoken about such a duel responsibility, saying: “I am a ball player and not a manager. I have troubles enough playing the game without the additional burden of management. As I look at it now, when the last man is out, my work is over for the day. The manager stews all night figuring why the team lost or why the pitchers failed to come thru and a lot of other worries. No management for me. Perhaps when my playing days are over I may take up the task of management, but not so long as I am cavorting on the ball field.”61 Cobb’s perspective was reasonable and respectable, and he appeared a man who recognized his own limitations.
On October 16, 1920, Cobb and his wife Charlie, plus their four children, arrived in San Francisco on a trip of business and pleasure.62 He was treated like royalty by local baseball officials, government representatives, and scores of fans who’d never seen him in person before. He made a personal appearance at the Jackson Playground, putting on a baseball demonstration and answering questions for a mob of awestruck kids. His recommendation was to stay away from cigarettes if they hoped to become ballplayers and then handed out a bunch of signed balls.63 Huge crowds turned out for exhibitions in San Francisco, Fresno, San Jose, and elsewhere, and when he wasn’t on the field, local mayors were beckoning him for social visits.
A highlight for Cobb in San Francisco was meeting an old-time ballplayer named Mike Finn, who was in the game before he was even born. After the meeting, Finn told a reporter: “Ty Cobb is so different from the man I expected to see that I couldn’t get my breath for awhile. He is a champion hitter and somehow I had pictured him as a big roughneck with bulging muscles. Instead of that I was greeted by a boyish-looking fellow who looked as if he had to shave only once a week and would not have to use much of a razor then. He has class sticking out all over him, and I am mighty proud to have made his acquaintance.”64
The Cobb family headed back east in December 1920 after a successful journey, and the beauty of Northern California was etched in their collective minds. Ty’s thoughts were preoccupied by the managerial challenge and the possibility of having to play ball for someone a little less understanding than Jennings. There were other concerns as well, but in his heart, he knew more than anything else that he had to put to rest the rumors that he was in decline. And he didn’t ever want to finish a season with his batting average tenth in the league again.