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Written by GRIM
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Monday, 23 April 2007 |
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Page 32 of 40
CHAPTER XIX.
Nelson Survived Trick That Might
Have Ruined His Career.
This chapter brings me up to 1905 the year I won the championship. I was touring around the country engaging in short fights before going to California on July I, when I was to sign up the final articles of agreement for my second fight with Britt. While engaging in one of these six-round affairs I became the unsuspecting victim of a prize-ring trick that might have ended all my championship ambitions. As a rule, the public knows very little about the underhand methods that are sometimes resorted to in pugilism, and a little expose right here might be interesting. At that time Al Herford was running a club at Baltimore and at the same time managing Kid Sullivan. He matched Sullivan and me at his club and agreed to pay me $1,500, guaranteed, win, lose or draw. Herford, thinking he could put one over and gain fame for one Kid Sullivan felt very much enthused over the match.
BAT, VICTIM OF TRICK.
We met on June 2, and were to go six rounds to a decision, but on the eve of battle Herford demanded that we fight six rounds and the match be called a draw if both were on their feet at the finish. He refused to give up more than $1,000 for my end. This sum I demanded be handed me before I entered the ring. Later this proved to be a very successful move on my part.
I started off in the first three rounds apparently winning easy. Herford, Joe Cans and Young Peter Jackson, by the way, all of whom were handling Sullivan, became uneasy, fearing I would knock Sullivan out. They then began to use tricks and unfair methods. When Sullivan went to his corner at the end of the third round some of his handlers smeared belladonna or some drug on his gloves. Their purpose was to have Sullivan smear them over my eyes and blind me.
Sullivan during the entire round resorted to such sprinting tactics that he hardly succeeded in getting his gloves to my face.
Again at the minute's rest between the fourth and fifth rounds, his seconds, thinking they hadn't applied sufficient medicine on his gloves, smeared on an extra heavy dose, which almost blinded me during that round. In the sixth and last round we both stepped to the centre, and, as is customary, shook hands. This time the dope had been applied heavily and he succeeded in rubbing the besmeared gloves to my face. In a moment I was almost totally blind.
ALMOST TOTALLY BLIND.
In fact, I could hardly tell Sullivan from the referee and stood in the centre of the ring with hands extended. No one knew my condition but myself, and I tried to hide it. Sullivan rushed into me, but I got close and, relying on my fighting instinct, kept following him all over the ring until the finish. On one occasion I hit the referee, thinking he was Sullivan.
The decision, of course, had to be a draw, as Herford had refused to allow his man to fight until we had agreed on the draw, clause if both men were on their feet at the end of the sixth round.
Billy Rocap, the referee, failed to notice that Sullivan's gloves had been doped until the finish of the fight. I was then totally blind and had to be led to my corner. Rocap asked what was the matter, and when I told him he immediately went to Sullivan's corner to try and get the gloves, but Herford, fox that he is, hustled Sullivan away and refused to give up the mitts.
FIRST APPEARANCE ON STAGE.
My appearance in the East had created quite a lot of attention, thanks to the sporting writers and the fight fans, and I was a little bit surprised one night in Philadelphia when it was suggested to me that I go on the stage. I had just licked Jack O'Neill in a six-round fight and was feeling pretty good.
The stage thing kinder got my goat, however, for I couldn't help thinking about the time when I tried to make a speech after my fight with "Cross-eyed" Mickey Riley. That was the time the fellow hit me in the mouth with a silver dollar and cut off my further conversation. I saw a chance to make some money out of it, though, and after thinking it over I decided to take a chance. It was less than twenty-four hours from that time that I got a telegram from Harry Farren, manager of the Columbia Theatre, in Boston, offering me $700 for a four nights' engagement, in addition to two round-trip tickets from Philadelphia, to Boston. I accepted immediately and started for Boston.
COULDN'T MAKE A SPEECH.
All the way up there I was trying to think what kind of a speech I would make. I knew I would have to say something in addition to boxing a few rounds. You ought to have heard me when I got on the stage and saw all those people looking at me. I made two stabs at the speech and then quit cold. Never again for mine!
Anyway, I drew packed houses and felt that I had given the theatre people their money's worth. On my way to the coast I showed a week at the Trocadero Theatre, in Chicago, and got $1,000 for it. But there was nothing doing in the speech line. Now that it was getting close to July 1 and as the special clause in the temporary agreement in the Nelson-Britt articles stated that I must be on California soil by July I. I hustled back to San Francisco, arriving June 30. On July I my manager and I went to Harry Corbett's place, where the forfeits had been posted, to meet Britt and his manager, where we were to sign the final articles.
I was amazed to find that Britt was matched to fight Kid Sullivan instead of me, and that he had pulled down his forfeit. I was again sidetracked for more easy game by the elusive native son, Sir James Edward.
BRITT FORCED TO SIGN UP.
Later on public sentiment forced Mr. Britt to get out and do something to show that he was capable of defending his title against me. Early in August my manager and Britt's brother, Willus, got together in Coffroth's Belvidere and discussed the details of a match. Jimmy and I were not present and the managers wrangled for three days before a final agreement had been reached. The Britts tried every means imaginable to lock the match, but were unsuccessful. They held the trump card and dictated almost every phrase. The Britt brothers, thinking I would balk at the long route, stipulated that the battle go forty-five rounds, that we weigh in at 133, ringside, also that we must bet $10,000 on the side and fight, winner take all.
Evidently the Britts didn't figure that they were playing right into my hands when they named the forty-five round route, which the San Franciscans have since named the "Battler's route," because I can go over the long course like a Derby horse over a Derby route. I conceded him each and every point and would have agreed to a thousand rounds just to get him inside the 24-foot ring.
After agreeing to all the conditions named, even to a percentage of the gate, the Britts balked, demanding a $20,000 guaranteed purse, with the privilege of 65 per cent, of the gross gate receipts.
James W. Coffroth, who was to promote the match, readily agreed to either one of the conditions a $20,000 flat guarantee or 65 per cent, of the gross gate receipts. Just as negotiations were apparently all off and things became darker than ever and the parties concerned started to adjourn, we took the last resort. My backers guaranteed Jimmy Britt the $20,000 purse for me and posted $10,000 to make it good, and were willing to gamble on a percentage basis for my end.
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