18

THE DEPRESSED PHILANTHROPIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Upon hearing the news, Cobb responded by saying, “I feel very much flattered and honored to have so many fine things relative to me appear in The Sporting News, also to know of the vote from those who are so highly qualified. It is very highly satisfying. I have been amply rewarded for all that I worked for, and deprived myself of, in order that I might be fit for the game. This honor from those who voted, and coming from The Sporting News, the baseball publication, is the capstone, in my estimation. I wish I could say more.”16

The war raging overseas was on the mind of all Americans and Cobb was ever the patriot, doing whatever was asked of him in the way of serving the cause. Mostly, he donated his time and used his notoriety to sell war bonds, and autographed balls to be auctioned off. Away from the public’s eye, he was equally vigilant. Around March 1942, he contacted the San Francisco office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation and “reported several items of interest and of value … in connection with Internal Security and Espionage.” He expressed his thorough support of Director J. Edgar Hoover and the FBI organization as a whole, leading N. J. L. Pieper, the Special Agent in Charge of the local office, to notify Hoover, and suggest a personal letter to Cobb in response.17

Director Hoover replied to Pieper and proposed that he contact Cobb “with the view to developing him as a Special Service Contract.” The position would allow Ty to cooperate with the Bureau on a regular basis and, according to Hoover’s letter, might prove invaluable “in furnishing information concerning individuals associated with organized baseball.”18 Hoover wrote Cobb as well, thanking him for his “commendatory remarks concerning the work being done by this Bureau and me.” He added, “I want you to know that I sincerely appreciate your assistance … and your willingness to continue cooperating” with the San Francisco office.19

Acting on the guidance offered by Hoover, Special Agent John A. Cost interviewed Cobb at length on June 5, 1942, and Ty again said he would “give his wholehearted cooperation to the Bureau in any way.” According to a summation of the discussion prepared by Agent Pieper for Hoover, “Cobb advised that he did not believe that there was any subversive element at work among the organized baseball players, and he stated that from his long study and observation that the baseball players and managers as a whole are a loyal and patriotic American group.” He would, however, “be vigilant for any type of subversive activity and would immediately advise the San Francisco Field Division should he detect such.”20 Thus, Cobb was acknowledged as a “Special Service Contact” for a period during the war. Around the same time, an alleged distant family member of Cobb’s was investigated for pro-Nazi beliefs, but an FBI investigation failed to substantiate any claims or locate “any active connection or association” to Cobb himself.21

Cobb’s ties to the war became more personal after his youngest son, James Howell, joined the U.S. Army at twenty-one years of age in 1943. He was inducted into service at the Fort Bliss Reception Center in El Paso after graduating from the New Mexico Military Institution, and was stationed at Fort Riley, Kansas, where his father visited him at least twice in 1943 and ’44.22 James was shipped overseas to fight in the Pacific campaign in May 1945. Of Ty’s other children, his daughter Shirley was the only other volunteer for overseas service. She enlisted in the Red Cross and helped support the Fifth Army in Italy in 1944. Incidentally, she ran into her father’s old rival, Leo Durocher, as the latter toured through as part of the USO, and the two talked baseball for a spell.23 Both of Cobb’s children returned home safely.

Similar to 1917 and ’18, during the First World War, pundits questioned whether baseball should continue in spite of the destabilized conditions. On his soap box, Cobb was adamant about the sport carrying on unmolested. “Baseball deserves the right to operate,” he declared. “It’s a great American institution.”24 In another interview, he asserted that he wanted baseball to have “some official recognition that is essential to morale,” and announced that “If worst came to worst, I’d get back into harness myself to help preserve it.”25 Cobb was fifty-seven years old at the time. Additionally, he was defensive of players in the military, especially against those condemning athletes in noncombat positions, saying that it was “unfair.” The same kind of accusations cropped up when he was in the service. “Not one player could, if he wanted to, ask for some soft assignment or one where he plays baseball,” he said. “It’s not done.”26

Cobb’s compassion for the military extended even further. He united with fellow baseball alumni from the Northern California region and visited wounded veterans at area hospitals from the naval facility at Mare Island to Letterman General at San Francisco. His crew of traveling companions included Tony Lazzeri, Lefty O’Doul, Oscar Vitt, and Bill Lange.27 During a trip to Denver in April 1945, Cobb and Vitt specifically planned to visit two health care centers to spend time with wounded warriors.28 A special part of their routine was to visit bedridden soldiers recently returned from overseas, and their presence undoubtedly did much to raise their spirits.

The sizable San Francisco sporting community, plus the vast surrounding area, was never at a loss for social events, and Cobb was busy attending dinners, on the golf course, and hosting friends at his Atherton home. Away from California, he often returned to Detroit and circulated with friends old and new. He loved to talk baseball, and although watching the on-field action made him nervous, he had a gold lifetime pass to enter any major league ballpark, and attended games when he had a chance.29 On July 14, 1943, he saw a game in Detroit featuring military and essential work personnel as the Great Lakes Bluejackets, managed by U.S. Naval officer Mickey Cochrane, beat the Ford League All-Stars, 6–2. Cobb was joined in the stands by Tris Speaker and Wally Pipp.30 During the summer of 1944, he attended a benefit in Seattle and planned to make the Connie Mack 50th anniversary celebration in Philadelphia, but caught poison oak and was forced to miss the affair.31

In May 1945, Cobb graciously accepted the managerial position of a western squad of high school all-stars headed to New York for an August 28 battle against their eastern counterparts. Babe Ruth signed on to lead the eastern team, and their rivalry was rekindled to a degree in the press. The entire affair, organized by Esquire magazine, was masterfully promoted, and Cobb talked up the contest with Harry Wismer on ABC radio beforehand.32 The game itself was witnessed by 20,000 people, and Cobb’s team held a solid lead going into the ninth inning. But in a similar fashion to his days in Detroit, his pitchers crumbled, giving up three runs, and his youngsters were defeated.33 Cobb, Ruth, and Speaker were reunited again at Cleveland for an Indians game versus the White Sox on August 18, 1946, and fans respectfully honored the trio with a prolonged applause.

One aspect that Cobb never really had to contend with earlier in life was his health. He was always in tip-top shape, and his body remained strong regardless of the strain he put it through. After his retirement, Cobb settled into a new lifestyle, and was a lot less active than he used to be. Golf was no substitute for baseball, and he gained weight steadily. Following exposure to rain during a hunting trip in 1946, he developed a severe case of bursitis in his limbs, and he became more inactive than usual. His weight jumped to 230 pounds and he began experiencing a loss of appetite, weakness, and bouts of itching. After an examination by a doctor in Reno in 1947, it was found that Cobb was suffering from gall bladder trouble, an enlarged liver, and the early stages of jaundice. Likely caused by a virus, his ailment required immediate attention, and he was placed on a very strict low calorie diet.34

It wasn’t coincidental that his health began to fail during a time of extreme stress. His wife, Charlie, who moved into her own residence at 84 Princeton Road in nearby Menlo Park in 1939, wanted a divorce, and reaching a compromise in light of the family’s widespread financial holdings was proving difficult.35 The suit, initiated by Charlie in March 1947, unleashed a stream of bad publicity his way, including the charge that he was responsible for a “continued course of extreme cruelty from the date of the marriage [in 1908] to the present time.” She asked for half of the Cobb fortune, a total amount she believed to be greater than $7 million, and other monetary stipulations. Ty denied their estimated wealth, asking, “Would you reporters like to place a little wager on it? I’ll give you everything over $7 million.” Strangely, he said he didn’t know his wife’s Christian name, saying, “Why don’t you ask her?”36

Known to be exceptionally persuasive, Ty convinced Charlie to drop her suit in San Mateo County, and she did on March 15. He told his investment banker Joe Hauck that he had proposed settlement terms three times, but she turned him down.37 Finally, the Cobbs severed legal ties after thirty-eight years of marriage on June 17, 1947, agreeing to conditions that were much different than those originally asked by Charlie. The arrangement allowed her to keep all stock in her name and joint custody of their Atherton home, amongst other things, but the majority of Ty’s money remained his and his alone.38

Ever since his separation from Charlie in 1939, Cobb reveled in his private sanctuary at Cave Rock, Nevada, a home he purchased that year on the eastern shore of Lake Tahoe. The residence, over 230 miles from Atherton on U.S. Highway 50, provided a needed getaway during the summer months, and he enjoyed the scenic outdoor recreation.39 While visiting the nearby Glenbrook Inn, an upscale hotel for vacationers, in June 1949, Cobb met Frances Fairbairn Fusca, a twice-married thirty-nine-year-old from Buffalo, New York, in town with her teenage daughter, Geraldine. Over the next few weeks and months, Ty and Frances endured a whirlwind courtship, and Cobb was infatuated by her. “She is the most unusual woman I have ever met,” he told Joe Hauck by letter. “She knows more about more subjects, so diplomatic and delicate and more form and etiquette, etc. She waits on me hand and foot, thinks for me. She is a wonder.”40

Bonded by similar interests—particularly golf and traveling—the couple was married on September 24, 1949, at a private ceremony in Buffalo. They attended the World Series in New York City as part of their honeymoon, and watched the Yankees dismantle the Brooklyn Dodgers in five games.41 Hobnobbing at the Stork Club in Manhattan and the Brown Derby in Hollywood, the Cobbs were highly visible on the social scene and seemingly couldn’t be happier. In terms of making public appearances, few were larger than the celebration oilman Dick Burnett was planning for the Texas League opener of his Dallas Eagles on April 11, 1950. Burnett extended invitations to Cobb and eight other baseball legends to attend as special attractions, and offered to pay all their expenses. Cobb was so enthusiastic about the affair that he told Burnett that he’d pay his own way to Dallas.42

The superstars participated in a luncheon promotional gig the day of the game and offered commentary on the radio. They each were asked about their favorite moments in baseball and many had the crowd in stitches. Cobb stepped up when it was his turn and was setting up a potentially off-color punch line involving his old Tigers teammate, Davy Jones. As he was proceeding, someone close to him leaned in and informed him about the radio broadcast. “Oh,” Cobb said, “I’ve just been told that we’re on the air and I’d better not tell that story. Guess I’d better retreat from that one.” The audience got a big chuckle out of it. That evening, over 53,000 individuals packed the Cotton Bowl for the event, and a few of the legends on hand, including Tris Speaker, performed a batting exhibition before the contest. In old form, Cobb dropped down a few bunts, and even slashed one over second base.43

Cobb remained busy, and journeyed to innumerable dinners, dedications, and reunion events across the country. He mingled with fellow Hall of Famers and swapped stories with friends he hadn’t seen in years. The financial security he’d built up over the decades gave him and his wife the freedom to travel when they wanted, and all Cobb needed was a heads-up about the next essential get-together. He was comfortable knowing that his business investments were on autopilot and needed only slight attention. For instance, his Coca-Cola Bottling Company at Twin Falls, Idaho, had been run by his son, Herschel, since it was initially purchased in 1940, and Ty left the management up to him.44 When he trekked to Idaho, he was usually more interested in visiting with his grandchildren and hunting than he was in overseeing the day-to-day business operations.

Physically imposing, Herschel Cobb had lived a turbulent life going back to his teenage years. In 1935, he faced assault charges on a nineteen-year-old girl in San Mateo County, California, but was later acquitted.45 He was up against an even more serious charge in Idaho in 1949, after the drowning death of a man who had been riding on a boat Herschel was driving. The boat actually capsized after a sharp turn, and Glenn Linzy succumbed while in the water. Hauled into court on an involuntary manslaughter charge, Herschel claimed the accident was caused by a power failure, and a jury found him not guilty.46 In early 1950, a damage suit by the man’s family was settled out of court. Around that same time, Herschel returned to California and became the Coca-Cola distributor for San Luis Obispo County and Northern Santa Barbara County, doing business from Santa Maria.47

The relationship between father and son was always special to Ty Cobb, and recollections of his own dad were heartwarming. He was a regular at the organized annual Father and Sons gatherings, staged by the Elks in Northern California, and made a conscious effort to be a better father in his old age than he was as a younger man. But he was everlastingly stubborn, and arguments came quickly in the Cobb household. In a lot of ways, Herschel was a darker and more exaggerated version of his father, especially in the way he related to his wife and kids. His venomous personality was highlighted in the 2013 book Heart of a Tiger, written by his son of the same name.48 On April 13, 1951, at the age of thirty-three, Herschel passed away unexpectedly of a heart attack, leaving his wife and three small children. Ty was crushed by the loss of his son.

Further sadness was ahead. The rift that alienated Cobb from his son, Ty Jr., was longstanding and compounded by other quarrels. They remained estranged for years with Junior on one coast and his father on the other. In 1915, Ty told a journalist that he didn’t want his namesake entering the athletic world, instead, he hoped he’d become a lawyer or a “good doctor.”49 Junior followed through and graduated with his medical degree in obstetrics and gynecology in the early 1940s. He formed a practice at Dublin, Georgia, and with a wife and three children, was proving to be a laudable father and provider. Things took a shocking turn when, in 1952, it was found that he had a malignant tumor in his brain. Ty Jr. underwent surgery at Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center in New York, but his condition never improved. He passed away on September 9 at the age of forty-two.50

Over the previous years, and considering the progression of the elder Cobb’s own health problems, it was presumed that his condition deteriorated in part by the stresses in his life. Joe Hauck wrote a letter to Ty Jr. in 1948, suggesting the same thing. He wrote, “I personally think [Ty Sr.] has been brooding over his troubles and his nervous system has borne the brunt of this. I feel that his unhappy mental condition is to a large extent due to the lack of understanding which exists between you.”51 The anxiety caused by being estranged was agonizing, but the loss of two sons in two years created an intolerable suffering for Cobb. The internal guilt and pain was manifesting into an unmanageable struggle that would continue to sap his health. His reliance on alcohol was also contributing to his growing number of personal tribulations.52

Still greatly respected by the mainstream, Cobb was called before the U.S. House of Representatives Judiciary Subcommittee investigating baseball in Washington, D.C. on July 30, 1951. He discussed his long history in baseball starting at age seventeen in Augusta and, in defense of baseball against antitrust charges, supported the reserve clause. He said that the national pastime was a “sport,” not an “industry,” and clearly expressed his opinions. “Baseball has made it possible for hundreds of young men from small towns, like myself, to improve their lot in life and become useful members of their communities,” he explained. “I revere baseball. I’m loyal to it for what it has done for me.”53

But Cobb’s loyalty wasn’t always clear-cut. In two separate articles featured in Life magazine in March 1952, he took a number of heavy-handed swings at modern baseball, asserting that contemporary players didn’t learn the fundamentals of the game, run the bases well, or matchup with the athletes from his generation. The title of the series, “They Don’t Play Baseball Any More,” summed up his sentiment, and he didn’t hold a thing back, hitting upon the weaknesses of Rogers Hornsby, Ted Williams, and Joe DiMaggio with authority. His controversial remarks, spread out over eighteen total pages, were eye-opening to say the least, and generated a wealth of conversation.54 Needless to say, most of the comments were critical toward Cobb and in defense of the current status of the game. Bucky Harris called him “nuts,” and Dizzy Dean declared that Cobb was “making himself mighty unpopular.”55

And that was certainly true. The articles did significant damage to Cobb’s reputation, and years of goodwill to fellow players, both in the press and on tour to stadiums across the majors, crumbled around him. Hornsby, who idolized Cobb and always recognized him as one of his all-time heroes, renounced that distinction as a result of the Life article, replacing him with Joe Jackson. He also offered a full rebuttal in Look magazine.56 Fiery Billy Martin of the New York Yankees took a more direct tact. During a speech in California, he specifically turned to Cobb and said, “No matter what some people tell you, this game of baseball is still being played for keeps.” At that same event, Cobb announced that he was done writing articles, stating that it “caused too much of a turmoil and got too many people mad at me. From now on I’m taking life easy out here in California and leaving that sort of thing to other people.”57

Little did people know, but significant good came from the Life magazine articles, as Cobb diverted the $25,000 he received as payment to the newly established “Ty Cobb Educational Foundation.” Announced on November 27, 1953, the organization was created to help qualified college students from Georgia with financial assistance, and planned to offer scholarships on an annual basis.58 Recalling the importance his father placed on education, Cobb had long been inspired to develop such a program, and was keenly enthusiastic about its growth.

Cobb’s philanthropy didn’t end there. In 1945, he first publicly revealed his intentions of erecting a progressive hospital in his hometown of Royston. He discussed the project with local powerbrokers and personally donated $100,000 to ensure that his dream would become a reality.

The moment finally arrived on January 22, 1950, when the doors of the Cobb Memorial Hospital swung open for the first time, and Ty couldn’t have been prouder. The building was dedicated to his parents, and during the dedication ceremony, Cobb became justifiably choked up. “This hospital belongs to all you people here where I used to live,” he announced, “and it’s for you people whom I’ve always had in my heart.”59

While Cobb was known for his temperamental attitude, he managed to avoid hairy legal situations for the most part during his post-baseball existence. In fact, he was entangled with the law only here and there, and several of the incidents involved an automobile. On a highway south of San Jose in August 1935, his car accidentally hit a pedestrian, and Cobb immediately rushed the man to a medical facility. The police absolved him of any blame.60 Twelve years later, in Placerville, California, he was taken into custody for drunkenness on a public road. Infuriated by the matter, Cobb made things worse by speaking “too freely” to the judge and was jailed for a couple of hours, then released on bail. The situation was resolved after he paid a $25 fine.61 In 1954, he became the defendant in a lawsuit after an alleged drunken spat with a friend.

Elbert D. Felts, a sixty-two-year-old former minor league ballplayer, was now a former friend of Cobb’s, and was pushing forward with a $100,000 civil suit, filed in Butte County (CA) Superior Court. He charged that Cobb, sixty-seven, “willfully and intentionally” assaulted him in the back of an automobile in April, causing “severe bodily injuries” to include swelling, lacerations, contusions, and nervous shock. Cobb denied the claims, maintaining that he only defended himself from Felts’ aggressiveness. The case played out over the next year, and in November 1955, a jury issued a verdict for Cobb after seven hours of deliberation.62 But things were far from over. Lawyers for Felts wanted to file an appeal and feature startling new testimony from Cobb’s wife Frances, who, for the second time in 1955, was pursuing a divorce. Her first attempt in January was settled amicably, but the relationship stalled out again by the summer.63

Although the Felts’ appeal was denied, a detailed twenty-four-page statement of charges by Frances against Ty for their divorce proceedings was submitted into the record. Notably, the documents were reflective of only one side of the argument, but nonetheless provided a disturbing look inside their personal troubles. The reoccurring theme was Cobb’s drinking, and Frances revealed many broken promises to quit during the length of their marriage. When he was drunk, he was verbally abusive, cruel, and used vile language at the drop of a hat. He was suspicious and defensive, and at times, made horrid threats. Gentleman-like behavior was lost as he argued with women and men equally, and displayed his insecurities with a glaringly obvious jealous streak.64

Cobb’s inner turmoil seeped into the letters he wrote, and he was a prolific correspondent with people all over the map. In an August 21, 1954, letter to Dr. Daniel Elkin, chairman of his educational fund, he divulged that he was “very prone to depressionist feelings” and that he tried hard not to inflict his “dark moments upon others.” He wrote about his alcoholic consumption, mentioning that Frances had helped him “wonderfully” in his ongoing battle.65 But with Frances now out the door, whatever assistance she provided was all but gone. Plus, his children were routinely estranged from him to some degree, leaving him lonelier than ever. His forlorn feelings were more prevalent at his large seven-bedroom home in Atherton than anywhere else, and he concluded that a significant change was necessary.

“I’m going home,” he announced, signaling his intention to leave California for his birth state. “All my interests are on the other side of those mountains. My heart is in two things, the Cobb Educational Fund, with headquarters in Atlanta, and the Cobb Memorial Hospital, which I built in Royston. I have no business of any kind out here, and with my children married, I have no use for this big house. I want to go back to my own Georgia, back to my Georgia people, back to my Georgia relatives. I want to build a house, hunt birds, and just visit.”66 Cobb admitted that he hated to leave California, but things were much too fast for him nowadays. He wanted quiet and peacefulness.67 In the summer of 1957, he scouted potential properties and found a nice bit of land on Chenocetah Mountain, outside Cornelia, Georgia.68 From his towering vantage point, he could see the area in which he was born at Narrows and, upon realizing that, was taken by the sentimentality of the location, and shed a tear.69

Unquestionably, Cobb still lingered in the consciousness of the public, but he was more known by name and accomplishment than by sight. He reportedly entered Yankee Stadium twice without being recognized and during an appearance on the popular game show I’ve Got a Secret in 1955, he managed to avoid being identified altogether, that is until the host revealed his name.70 In turn, the audience roundly applauded the baseball legend. Cobb always loved public fanfare. In Baltimore on August 24, 1956, he had to be impressed when he was given the loudest applause of the night during an appearance with eight other superstars prior to an Orioles game. He continued to be highly active, attending reunion events at Kansas City and New York, and made a sincere effort to return to Cooperstown on a yearly basis.

Enjoying the nostalgia, he was showered by affection from Augusta baseball rooters on August 27, 1957, and the entire gate was donated to his educational fund. A speaker told the crowd that the venue they were in, Jennings Stadium, was just two miles from where Cobb slashed his first professional hit in 1904. Cobb was bowled over by the emotional response to his presence, and remarked, “I can’t tell you how deeply I feel about all this.”71 In July 1959, he made his way back to Navin Field (now known as Briggs Stadium) in Detroit, and his old haunts dredged up plenty of memories. He snuck down to the Tigers bench during a game against Washington and shook hands with players and manager Jimmy Dykes.72 Incidentally, Cobb never figured major league ball would make it to the California coast, but certainly relished attending the 1959 World Series between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Chicago White Sox.

As illustrated in Chapter One, the progression of Cobb’s cancer was swift and he shuttled back and forth between hospitals, enduring a massive treatment schedule. He wasn’t incapacitated by his health, and did the things he wanted to do, visiting casinos, attending spring training at Arizona, and made his final trip to Cooperstown in late June 1960. Acting out on occasion and drinking to excess, Cobb refused to curtail his behavior despite the circumstances. He persistently battled away at whatever issue was in front of him, no matter how trivial, and fought for his own set of principles. In May 1960, he filed a lawsuit against the Pacific Gas and Electric Company, which served his Atherton home, for inaccurate recording of his utilities and purposely went without power at his residence as a demonstration of his stubbornness.73

A true track and field aficionado, Cobb was delighted to share a stage with four-time Olympic gold medalist Jesse Owens for an event in Boston. The two ran into each other again at the airport the next day and Cobb put his arm around Owens and complimented his “great speech.” After a group of children came over to get an autograph, Cobb told them, “You want this man’s autograph, Sonny. Why boy, I’m just a ball player, this man is one of the great gentlemen of sports.” As Owens was leaving, Cobb said, “Jesse, take care of yourself. Come see me, please.” Cobb then told sportswriter Bill McSweeney, “There goes a great man, Bill, a great man.”74 Having taken great pleasure from attending the 1932 Olympics in Los Angeles, Cobb made hasty plans to venture to Rome for the 1960 Summer Games with a friend from Georgia. He spent seventeen liberating days overseas and continued to test his so-called health limitations.75

The work on his autobiography was a heartening project for Cobb in his last months, and he truthfully believed he was going to straighten out the jumbled record of his career. Writing his memoirs was a dream of his, and had been on his mind for years. From what he was seeing so far, he was happy about the way it was coming together and the idea of submitting his version of history to the public was personally gratifying. On April 27, 1961, he turned up at the home opener for the debuting Los Angeles Angels, and to old friends like Fred Haney and J. G. Taylor Spink, it was evident that Cobb was in the advanced stages of his illness. According to The Sporting News, Cobb “received a tremendous reception” from the crowd, and that same day, attended a gathering at the famous Brown Derby in Beverly Hills. Comedian Groucho Marx was one of the notables to greet him, and hit the mark when he said, “Ty, many people think there have been greater outfielders, but in my book, you were the best.”76

Cobb was admitted to Emory University Hospital in Atlanta several different times between 1960 and ’61, and employees who dealt with him remembered their encounters. Dr. Joseph E. Hardison was hammered by Ty’s irritable personality, and told that he was a “rank incompetent amateur” because he wouldn’t give him pain medication without an examination. But after his agony was reduced, the two talked baseball and “became friends.”77 Nurse Alice Kierspe said Cobb was “very charming to me,” but Dottie Wills admitted that he was “ornery.”78 Nevertheless, Ty signed baseballs for both and did likewise for others at the hospital. Medical student Rex Teeslink joined Cobb as his caregiver from May to July 1961, and witnessed Ty’s “hair-trigger temper.” No one could override his forceful personality when he was set in his ways, but Teeslink was exposed to the softer side of him as well. “All I want people to realize is that he was a fair and meaningful guy,” he later said.79

When Cobb was hospitalized for good on June 5, his mountaintop home hadn’t yet been built and the strained relationships in his life were still to be mended. However, time was running out, and his family knew it. His two daughters, son Jimmy, and first wife Charlie raced from California to be by his bedside. Beverly expressed her father’s sentiment at the time, saying that “he recognized that he drove everyone very hard and he was sorry for the unhappiness that had gone on before.”80 In that regard, a level of peace had been made in a family who’d suffered unbearably for decades. Surrounded by his loved ones, Ty died on July 17, 1961. He was seventy-four.

Condolence messages streamed in from across the baseball world, many with personal anecdotes about Cobb, and his reach as an influential player and mentor went farther than imagined. The Associated Press and United Press International, in reporting on his passing, specifically denoted that “private funeral services” were to be held, nixing any mass display of respect from the baseball community. A few close friends, including Ray Schalk and Mickey Cochrane, did make the journey, joining 150 others in Cornelia for the services at the McGahee Funeral Home chapel. Over two dozen cars entered in the procession headed for Royston, where Cobb was laid to rest in the family mausoleum next to his parents and sister.81

Fittingly, the Hillerich & Bradsby Company, producer of the bats Cobb used to secure a majority of the record 4,100 hits during his career, fashioned a poetic tribute in his honor. It featured an image of Cobb in all his baseball glory and read:

This was Ty Cobb.

America has lost a great American.

The World of Sport has lost its most spirited competitor.

Baseball has lost its most brilliant player.

We have lost a true friend.82