Monday, June 1, 2015

A Review of the Cobb Book

Removing the Fangs From Ty Cobb’s Notoriety

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Ty Cobb in 1925. Despite his reputation, “it’s very hard to make a case for Cobb being racist,” the author of a new biography said. Credit Associated Press
When he began work on a new biography, “Ty Cobb: A Terrible Beauty” (Simon & Schuster), Charles Leerhsen expected to uncover fresh depictions of the player as a racist and a spikes-sharpening attacker of opposing infielders. If Cobb was the meanest man in baseball flannels, additional animosity would not be difficult to find.
“I thought I’d find new examples of monstrous monstrosity,” Leerhsen said in an interview last week. “Instead, I found a very different person than the myth. I was a little disappointed at first. He’s more normal than I thought.”
Leerhsen’s research found neither a saint nor a Rabelaisian character like Babe Ruth. Sure, Cobb could be unpleasant and overly sensitive. He had a temper and fought with his share of people, including a fan who heckled him mercilessly. But Leerhsen did not unearth a bigot primed to attack black men or a brandisher of carefully filed daggers beneath his shoes.
“It’s a warts-and-all biography,” Leerhsen said, laughing. “But they’re warts, not tumors.”
Four years of research found that Cobb’s father, a teacher and state senator in northeast Georgia, detested the mores of the Jim Crow South and once stopped a lynch mob. Some of Cobb’s family members turned out to be abolitionists. And Cobb attended Negro league games after his retirement and supported integration in baseball.
“If you stick to the facts, and not the myth or the assumptions about someone born in Georgia in 1886,” Leerhsen said, “it’s very hard to make a case for Cobb being racist.”
He added, “Two or three times he got in fights with black people, but it was never clear what part, if any, race played in those incidents, and of course he got in many more fights with white people.”
As for the notion that Cobb turned his cleats into weapons, Leerhsen found no evidence.
“That was one of the easiest things to prove,” he said. “There are so many quotes from players that said he didn’t. Even Sam Crawford, who was hardly Cobb’s biggest fan, said he didn’t purposely spike people.”
The book is not purely a defense of Cobb, to clear him of alleged sins, but a full biography of one of the early 20th century’s seminal players.
“He was actually the most exciting player, maybe ever,” said Leerhsen, who has held top editing positions at People magazine and Sports Illustrated. “He was sort of crazy on the basepaths, and he was always playing so hard. He flew in the face of 19th-century sportsmanship that you shouldn’t be too tricky; he was about being what he called a mental hazard on the field.”
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Leerhsen's book. "It's a warts-and-all biography,” he said. “But they’re warts, not tumors.”
Still, as indignant as he is about Cobb’s reputation as baseball’s cur-in-residence, Leerhsen understands its persistence.
“People love a villain,” he said. “By saying he’s a racist and a monster, you’re saying, ‘I’m not, so I’m a decent and nice person.’ ”
He added: “People cherish their sports myths. Their father told them, and there’s a sacredness to them about what you learned when you first learned about baseball.”
Leerhsen disdains drive-by insults, like one from Bill Bryson in the 2013 book “One Summer: America, 1927,” in which Bryson wrote that Cobb was “only a degree or two removed from classical psychopathology.”
“Where do you get that from?” Leerhsen said.
He is also critical of a previous Cobb biographer, Charles Alexander, for writing that a bellhop and a night watchman who were involved with Cobb in a hotel fight in 1909 were black. Alexander cited contemporary accounts for the claim, but Leerhsen said he found none. That fight, Leerhsen said, was transformed over the years into an account of Cobb’s stabbing to death a young black waiter.
Leerhsen is particularly upset by Al Stump, who ghostwrote Cobb’s 1961 autobiography and, soon after Cobb died, created a portrait of the dying Cobb as a paranoid, pill-popping, boozing, gun-wielding wreck. That account, in True magazine, led Ron Shelton to make the 1994 movie “Cobb,” which The New York Times described as a “blustery, fire-snorting film.”
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Charles Leerhsen. Credit Diana Eliazov/Simon & Schuster
That same year, Stump published “Cobb: A Biography,” which he said restored much of what had been omitted from the autobiography.
But Leerhsen said the book had become a standard reference by which to judge Cobb as a miscreant.
“Stump’s book was almost completely fabricated,” Leerhsen said, adding that he had found “examples of him making up quotes — Juan Marichal and Don Drysdale complaining about interviews with him.”
Leerhsen continued, “He didn’t do the hard work of going back to newspapers clips and the letters.”
Stump died in 1995. His son, John, did not return an email request for comment.
As for “Cobb,” the movie, Leerhsen cites an email exchange in which Shelton said he created an attempted rape of a casino cigarette girl “because it felt like the sort of thing that Cobb might do.”
Shelton explained Friday by email that the scene grew out of a story Stump told him about how Cobb “strong-armed a woman to his room where he was unable to conclude his intentions due to impotency.”
Shelton said that Stump was not the only source for the film — another, the Tigers announcer Ernie Harwell, told him “chilling stories” about Cobb — and that Cobb’s still-living contemporaries told him “he was much worse than his reputation.”
He added: “I told my story, and Charlie’s telling his. But I stand by mine.”

2 comments:

Freddy Hudson said...

The myth and mystery of Cobb continues.

Fred Hudson said...

That it does.