Soon after the Birmingham flap, Klep left the Buckeyes and returned to Erie. According to the April 13 edition of the Courier, he rejoined the club there. Wright was quoted as saying, "If Branch Rickey and others of organized baseball can choose material of their liking to produce a winning ball club and without question of race or color despite the Southern 'Jim-Crow' tradition, then why can't I do the same?"
The Buckeyes' next game was in Atlanta, and Klep was scheduled to pitch. "He was warming up before the game." says Trouppe, "and these police officers were standing and watching him throw. I said to one of them, 'Look, are you going to say he can't play here in Atlanta either?' The officer said, 'No, no, we don't have anything to do with that. As far as I'm concerned, he's all right.' He pitched a few innings. There wasn't anything to it."
But Klep had other problems in Atlanta. "We all went to Peachtree Street, in the black section, to eat," says Trouppe. "We went into this restaurant, and a couple of ladies who looked just as white as anybody were there, so I thought, Well, we'll just eat here. The fellow came over, and he was kind of embarrassed. He said, 'I'm sorry, he can't eat here. We don't serve whites. He can go uptown and eat in any restaurant.' I said, 'What do you mean? What about those two ladies sitting over there?' He started giggling and said, 'Oh, they're not white.' So I told Klep to go uptown and get himself something to eat and meet us back at the hotel."
Klep lasted with the Buckeyes through spring training but was released early in the regular season. "He didn't really toe the mark," recalls Trouppe. "He just wasn't a good enough ballplayer. We had a tough schedule, and we played some real tough teams in our league. And he didn't show me that much as a pitcher—he was just average, that's all. I told Ernie that we couldn't really use him."
So Klep's brief career in the Negro leagues came to an end. According to Klep's brother, Joseph, who still lives in Erie, Eddie was always something of a loner. After supporting himself with odd jobs for a number of years, he moved to Southern California in the early '60s. He died in Los Angeles in 1981, leaving as his legacy a footnote to the story of integration in professional baseball.