More than stars shone in Silver Screen magazine | MARK HUGHES COBB

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Dad never starred in movies, though folks who saw him in Silver Screen magazine thought he could have. He's in profile, sitting up in a San Francisco hospital bed, recuperating from a wound, tossing away the chunky metal and leather leg brace doctors thought he'd never walk without.

Clearly, they had not factored in the stubbornness of Cobbs, especially those raised on farms in cities so small that, in 2022, they don't possess a red light. A flashing red, yes, at the busy intersection, with the church and the store.

Kennedy's in Lamar County: Go to Reform, turn right, drive lovely nowhere. When you can't go any further, turn right again. The Cobb family house is in disrepair, as no one's lived there for ages. The double-seater outhouse — prosperity — remains, leaning awkwardly toward its gravitational destiny.

At one time it was the first home you would see, coming from the west, atop a rise. The site still brings a memory of ease, because once there, you couldn't do much aside from sit, make rusty metal sing from the front porch swing, and eat. Grandma Evy cooked as if feeding a farm full of hungry hands, even if it was just Dad, my older brother Scotty and me. Evy was the image of a grandmother, warm and gentle as those down beds we'd roll into, thinking we'd need at least an arm up for assistance, to climb back out.

Troy John Cobb, father of The Tuscaloosa News writer Mark Hughes Cobb, appeared in Silver Screen magazine while recuperating from a "million-dollar wound" inflicted in Korea. The actress Adrian Booth, Gary Cooper and others were visiting the San Francisco hospital where he recuperated, and the now-defunct Hollywood magazine shot several photos.
Troy John Cobb, father of The Tuscaloosa News writer Mark Hughes Cobb, appeared in Silver Screen magazine while recuperating from a "million-dollar wound" inflicted in Korea. The actress Adrian Booth, Gary Cooper and others were visiting the San Francisco hospital where he recuperated, and the now-defunct Hollywood magazine shot several photos.

Add in a dose of Fernweh, German for "farsickness," nostalgia for somewhere you never could really go, i.e., Dad's childhood. He'd tell tales about rising before dawn to milk the chickens and slop the cows — or something — about how he and twin brother Lloyd would slick their hair with water before walking to school. In winters, hair froze, so they'd break it off in lieu of paying a barber.

My gullible pal Tracy, hearing this woebegone, horrifically inaccurate tale: "But how did you style it?"

His past was there in Ms. Evy, of course, and black-and-white photos of his dad, John Greenwood Cobb, an imposing, grim-faced figure who, when not farming, rode circuits to scare the hell out of damned sinners, which, as Dad tells it, was everyone. Very egalitarian, in his way. We never met. He was 67 when the boys were born, and though he lived to 91, still, a bit before my time.

I'm fairly certain at least 300 of the 367 souls counted by the 1940 census were blood-kin. It got confusing, because the Reverend had been married before Evy, fathering a brood of farmhands already grown and out, though usually nearby. In one square mile of Kennedy, you'd find 176.2 inhabitants (that .2 might have been a cousin who was not so careful at the sawmill) in 2000; down to 141 per square mile in 2020.

By comparison, 2020 Tuscaloosa held 1,385.2 (Dang, that cuz gets around!) per square mile. And that's probably soaring, given our rise in condos, apartments and other mass dwellings.

To Dad, Millport, Vernon and Reform were uptown; Tuscaloosa was a faraway gleaming metropolis. Troy John Cobb was president of his class, most likely to succeed and most handsome — see Silver Screen — senior year at the high school that no longer exists.

All in my family are fairly smart — one of those half-brothers, my ... half uncle? ... would append the three-letter name for a common farm animal, indicating set of mind — but springing from a farm, Dad needed financial assistance to reach Metropolis, aka the University of Alabama. National Guard service gave, and then took, sending this lean kid, barely out of his teens, to boot camp, then the West Coast, Tokyo, and on to Korea, where as a private first class, he helped lead a platoon of men, aka boys of his age and social status, needing service to serve the rest of their lives.

Spoon-fed by a knockout actress named Adrian Booth, he's even skinnier than he was growing up, having been horribly wounded when a mortar round went off near his feet. He actually earned two Purple Hearts, the first after a grenade concussion. The second was what soldiers call a "million dollar wound": One that sends you home alive.

A fragment of the mortar, about the circumference of a half dollar, thrice that thick, embedded so deeply in Dad's upper right calf that he carried the concavity to the end of his days.

I got curious, holding that rusted-looking fragment, dug out of the foot locker — like G.I. Joe! Except human-sized — he'd left with Ms. Evy, a semi-magical (to me) crate stuffed with medals and ribbons, scratchy wool uniforms, the abandoned leg brace, and other detritus. We played with G.I. Joes, and watched John Wayne movies, where afterwards, things fit neatly back into a box. I hadn't even heard Edwin Starr's grunted opinion yet.

Everything was squared away, untouched mostly, until prying kids. At 6 or so, I wondered: Where's the glory? What's this ribbon for, except excellent shooting skills? Why won't you tell more?

At 11, the first and last time I saw Dad cry, at Ms. Evy's funeral, empathy finally elbowed its way up. I stopped asking.

Not everything packed up was a medal, a remnant, a historical artifact, like that Silver Screen. Not every one of those men Dad led — he's listed as Sgt. Troy Cobb; best of my recollection, that's from a hasty field promotion when their other sergeant was killed — made it home. Those others from his platoon, they came back packed in boxes.

Dad was luckiest. Shrapnel flying up and outward hit him mainly in the lower body. Lucky for me, too, because had he been further out, I wouldn't be typing this, because I wouldn't be.

He'd limp when tired, traipsing after an army of kids at Six Flags, or walking Panama City Beach's pearly sands. His jump shot wasn't up to much. That right leg wouldn't spring. Otherwise, aside from a distant soft look, late in evenings, sipping Old Forester over a frozen rock or three, most of the damage wasn't visible.

The full page of Silver Screen magazine, in which Hollywood stars turned out to a San Francisco hospital to welcome home soldiers injured in the Korean War. Gary Cooper and comedian Eddie Bracken were among the most famous. Kennedy and Tuscaloosa's Troy John Cobb is pictured lower right, being spoon-fed by actress Adrian Booth.
The full page of Silver Screen magazine, in which Hollywood stars turned out to a San Francisco hospital to welcome home soldiers injured in the Korean War. Gary Cooper and comedian Eddie Bracken were among the most famous. Kennedy and Tuscaloosa's Troy John Cobb is pictured lower right, being spoon-fed by actress Adrian Booth.

What he didn't mind talking about was that sweet actress, part of a Hollywod cheer 'em up tour that also included Gary Cooper. Dad's recollection of the legendarily stoic Coop:

Coop: "How ya doin', soldier?"

Things were fine, Dad opined. He was working his way out of this bed, and would be up and back at UA in no time.

Coop: "Yup. ... Yup."

And scene.

The caption reads "Sgt. Troy Cobb of Tuscaloosa, Ala., gets fed the happy way by Adrian Booth." She's smiling, and he seems to be, around the spoon.

He thought it was yogurt, though with cameras flashing, stars milling, he might have remembering it wrong. Minds out of the gutter, he implied. "The happy way." Cutlines are hard.

Born Virginia Pound, Booth had been discovered modeling, given the name "Lorna Gray" by Columbia Pictures.

She acted in shorts with legends such as Buster Keaton (In "Pest from the West," she plays Conchita, and enters at about 1:21 of the 18-minute film), and The Three Stooges. "You Nazty Spy!" — filmed at the same time Charlie Chaplin was shooting "The Great Dictator," more than a year and a half before Pearl Harbor — showcased one of the brashest Hitler parodies this side of Mel Brooks, with Moe hand-selected as dictator of Moronika. It's one of the Stooge's sharper scripts, with "Boys from Syracuse" gags and puns galore: "If I take Mickey Finlen, I'd better be rushin.' " Then quit Stalin." … "How can you shoot her with dice?" "They're loaded! Nyuk nyuk nyuk nyuk."

Lorna Gray plays the titular long cool spy — Mattie Herring — in a black dress. When she slinks in, Lorna/Adrian moves like onyx mercury, towering over the diminutive Howard and Fine family.

"Lorna" moved to Republic, changed to a name of her own choosing, Adrian Booth, and worked steadily in westerns, thrillers, horror and serials, right up until about the time she met my dad. She died at 99, before I had the smarts to look her up, and send her a note of thanks.

No, Dad didn't bust her marriage, nor cause her retirement. but look at that man: He could have. I flatter myself we resemble, though my 20-year-old mug never enjoyed the rigors of farm or war to hollow out the cheeks.

I shared the photo on social media Veterans Day, Nov. 11, four days before what should have been his 92nd birthday, Nov. 15. On Halloween morning 1996, staphylococcus bacteria did what farming, a stern preacher dad, grenades, mortar rounds, a lifetime of hard work — "Anything worth doing is worth doing well," he'd say, my excuse when I turn in overlong stories — and a squadron of his boys couldn't do..

A family saying, variation on slang: He was tough as a Cobb.

Mark Hughes Cobb
Mark Hughes Cobb

Reach Tusk Editor Mark Hughes Cobb at mark.cobb@tuscaloosanews.com, or call 205-722-0201.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: More than stars shone in Silver Screen magazine | MARK HUGHES COBB