Ron Cobb: A man of Ty Cobb's letters

Ron Cobb, 66, is only distantly related to Ty Cobb, a man once described by writer Ernest Hemingway – no easy going fellow himself – as “the greatest of all ballplayers – and an absolute [expletive].”

For over 20 years Dr. Cobb, who worked three decades as a nuclear engineer, has been mesmerized by Ty Cobb’s intricate and often troublesome character. He’s read close to 20 biographies and is also personally responsible for discovering and publishing three Cobb-related books. These include a 1914 ghost-written autobiography, a 1924 memoir and a 1951 biography that ran serially in The Sporting News. All were virtually unknown to contemporary historians and fans.

“There are undeniable truths about Cobb,” Dr. Cobb said. “He had two failed marriages. He was largely estranged from his [five] children. He physically fought many people, on and off the field. He was, by any way you evaluate it, an absolute racist, although that gets complicated."

Even before they reached the majors, Cobb publicly praised both Jackie Robinson and Hank Aaron. In letters he occasionally referred to the Jewish slugger Hank Greenberg as “my good friend."

“So much about Cobb,” he added, “is couched in myth and I think many stories about him are embellished in a particularly harsh and negative way.”

A little known fact regarding Cobb was his prolific letter-writing. He wrote thousands, Dr. Cobb believes, almost all by hand and many, like the eBay letter, in his trademark green ink.

Authentic Ty Cobb letters are valuable, Dr. Cobb said, ranging from $1,500 for a postcard to $2,000 or $2,500 or even more, he said, “if [the letter contains] any baseball content.” He’s actually seen them sell for as much as $5,000. Probably for this reason Cobb letters remain unknown except in that that mysterious shadow world of buyers, sellers, archivists and collectors.

When Dr. Cobb enlarged the Oct. 26, 1953, eBay letter, he could make out the salutation, “Dear Taylor,” whom he knew immediately was Taylor Spink, longtime publisher of The Sporting News. From researching the 1951 Sporting News biography, Dr. Cobb knew that an entire collection of letters between Cobb and Spink was both owned and catalogued by TSN.

“I was pretty certain,” he said, “this letter was both authentic and stolen.”

Dr. Cobb subsequently contacted several memorabilia experts and the seller was traced to a woman in Chesterfield, Mo., a St. Louis suburb (TSN was published in St. Louis from 1886 to 2008). Most of the detective work was done by Steve Gietschier, a former chief archivist for TSN, and Peter J. Nash, whose website “Hauls of Shame” publishes investigative pieces on the baseball collectibles and auction industries.

In a late June posting, Nash revealed that a Chesterfield police officer met with the woman, that the letter was confiscated and subsequently returned to TSN. The policeman told Nash that the seller gave “multiple stories about how and when she came into possession of the letter ... I know she is lying, but I don’t think she stole [the letter]."

For Dr. Cobb the incident reinforces his belief that Cobb’s letters deserve less subterfuge and a wider audience. None have ever been collected for publication. Further, Dr. Cobb believes that no biographer has ever seen, much less studied, a diverse sampling of his correspondence.

It's here in the letters where the Peach's personalities fully ripens. As Dr. Cobb points out, “There is a humanity that emerges, a genteel quality and even a certain charm.”

Dr. Cobb owns 25 letters (five are authentic, 20 are copies) of his correspondence with a Twin Falls, Idaho, sportscaster named Joe Clements. They date from 1950, around the time of Cobb’s second marriage to Frances Fairburn (they divorced in 1956), to 1959, two years before his death on July 17, 1961.

In places, Cobb’s letters – the letterhead reads, “Tyrus R. Cobb, 48 Spencer Lane, Atherton, California – are remarkable. He sometimes composes endless, tumbling sentences with only occasional bursts of punctuation. Other times he writes with quick-hit fragments and half-thoughts. But always he writes like a person with a lot on his mind.

Cobb bears little resemblance here to the man his contemporary ballplayer Rube Bressler described as “the most feared man in the history of baseball.” A September 18, 1954, letter ends with, “With Kindest to Mrs. And children, I am Sincerely, Ty Cobb.” A November 14, 1958, missive began, “How are you and yours, well I hope, love to all the Clements Irish tribe ... ” and ends with, “Regards & love to your and yours, I am As Ever, Ty Cobb.”

Unquestionably the most moving passage in the series, dated April 16, 1952, comes when Ty writes Clements, “I was taken to hospital [the] day [I learned] of news of my son Ty Jr, the doctor’s condition. ... He was taken to New York neurological center, Columbia University Center, Dr. Pool a very imminent [sic] brain surgeon operated [and found] a malignant tumor his days are numbered, how long no one can say possibly a year, less or more, this was quite a shock. Wife and 3 children, wonderful practice, income 40 to 50 thousand, overwork, tried to do it all etc.”

Ty Jr., who practiced obstetrics in Dublin, Ga., died at age 42, less than five months after Cobb mailed this letter.

Cobb and Clements got into one 1953 tiff over, apparently, a $2 check that Cobb, who died a multi-millionaire, sent for some famed Idaho garlic. Clements not only didn’t send the garlic, he didn’t even write for three months. The Peach responded with a 2 1/2- page flourish, flashing at times his legendary temper during a rather impressive exposition on the nature of friendship.

Clements finally replies, apologizing profusely (sometime in all caps), explaining that Cobb's original letter had been misplaced during a recent move. Clements writes, “I must admit that you are equally as skilled with the pen as you were on the ball field. ... You’ve taken me to task as only an artist can ... ”

A month later Cobb writes, “Your letter was so nice and right, it made me happy ... I just like you and yours and I was afraid that you had something in your ‘craw.’ When I like a fellow I hate to lose him ... and you have been so nice to me.”

The Clements series notwithstanding, Cobb’s darker side will probably always saturate any character study. At times it has even trumped his sheer statistical brilliance, including his .367 lifetime average. But even the Georgia Peach himself might agree with one passage from Lee Blessing’s 1989 play entitled “Cobb.”

Late in the play, a character playing the dying Ty Cobb stares defiantly at the audience and says, “At the turn of the century I took a rustic folk-art form called baseball and applied the science of warfare to it. Fit like a damn glove, you better believe. That’s my contribution to America.”