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Written by GRIM
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Monday, 23 April 2007 |
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Page 35 of 40
CHAPTER XXI
Nelson Exposes a Secret About His Manaager
Fights Terry McGovern
at Philadelphia.
My life, battles and career have certainly been strewn with many pitfalls and thorny paths, as these pages will testify.
After almost a year's haggling to secure the second Britt match which was fought at Colma, Cal., Sept. 9, 1905, being blocked by the Britts on various occasions, my manager, Bill Nolan, came very near throwing a bombshell into the match. While the Britts and the club promoters were righting over the selection of a referee, none other than Billy Nolan and I sat in our cottage, two blocks from the ringside, wrangling and arguing regarding the percentage Nolan was to receive for acting in the capacity of my manager.
I had nothing but a verbal agreement, no written contract. It was understood that he was to receive the same percentage as my former manager. This was 25 per cent, of net proceeds. I figured, however, that he would put one over in the Britt match, knowing that it was a big thing. He demanded 50 per cent, from me for his end. I refused point blank to consider any such proposition, while Nolan insisted on his 50 per cent, and seemed determined not to yield an inch.
I decided to fight the battle regardless of who was my manager or who was referee, and told Nolan so. He was insistent, and offered to post a $10,000 forfeit and wanted me to post a like amount, guaranteeing that I wouldn't fight Britt, and he would gracefully step down and out as manager.
After a lot of jawing I compromised with Nolan, agreeing to give him 35 per cent, of all my net winnings, so as to keep peace in the family.
My victory over Britt, which gave me the championship, quickly brought me into fame and fortune. I was snapped up by several theatrical agents and in a sixteen weeks' tour of the country I received $21,400, or $ 1,337,50 a week.
It was at the end of this tour that I got a chance to fight Terry McGovern, the terror I had heard of all my life. I had often wanted to meet Terry, as I had understood that he was the greatest of them all in his day.
THE CHAMPION PRAISES ROKO IN TRAINING.
As soon as the match had been arranged I went to Essington, Pa., to train for two weeks. Kid Abel, Frank McKinley, Hughie McMahon and Eddie Kelly were my sparring partners. This is where I first introduced Roko into my training and found it very beneficial, and have used it ever since, and attribute my success, in a measure, to its use.
Pent E. Spink, owner and inventor of the game, of Cleveland, spent a week at the quarters instructing me and my assistants in all of its fine points.
As a result of two weeks' training, during which I played Roko every day, I stepped into the ring to meet Terry as fit as a fiddle and as fast as lightning. We et at 133 pounds ringside weight. We drew the banner house at the National Athletic Club of $23,543.00, 'of which I received a guarantee of $5,000 win, lose or draw, with a privilege of 50 per cent, of the gross gate receipts, which amounted to $11,771.50. This is a world's record for a six-round fight, and over three times as large a house as has ever been drawn, before or since, at this club, and I am using Harry Edward's word when making this statement.
As will well be remembered by the many patrons who attended this club on the memorable night of March 14, 1906, I kept Terry McGovern waiting in the cold on the raised platform for about three-quarters of an hour. Knowing that McGovern was very, very nervous and easily "riled," I took my time in putting the tape on my hands purposely to get his goat. I certainly succeeded. Terry, as everybody knows, is a great little fighter, and, being of a nervous disposition, is always anxious to hear the bell so he can start fighting and finish the job in a hurry. I also brought in an extra shoe lace, knowing I was going to break the one I had in my shoe accidentally on purpose.
After keeping McGovern waiting about fifteen minutes he commenced to become cold and fidgety. He put on his overcoat and walked around the ring, and finally came over to my corner and made inquiry as to why I was so slow in getting ready.
I only looked up at him and said, "Don't worry, Terry, you'll get yours soon enough." That got him red-hot and he complained to his managers, Sam Harris and Joe Humphreys. They both came over and tried to get me to hurry, but I only laughed at them, so they went back to Terry's corner to try to humor their champion and keep him from worrying about the fight.
After about three-quarters of an hour the fight fans became anxious and were yelling "Fight ! fight !" Thinking that I had gone far enough and that I had McGovern worked up to a high pitch, I put on the finishing touches and was ready for the bell.
Jack McGuigan, the referee, called us to the center, giving us our final instructions, and poor Terry shook with fright and nervousness as he stepped back to his corner to await the bell. As everybody will remember, instead of retiring to my corner, I stood directly in the center of the ring, and when the gong rang, tore after McGovern. We had hardly fought thirty seconds when 1 could tell that 1 had McGovern's goat. He was nervous and held on. He was afraid to fight his usual fight of rushing from start to finish. We went six good hard, fast rounds with considerable clinching on McGovern's part. We finished the six rounds in the center of the ring battling like demons, neither being apparently much the worse for wear.
Immediately after the great fight with Terry McGovern at Philadelphia, I was matched to fight Aurelia Herrera at Los Angeles before Tom McCarey's club. McCarey thought so well of the match that he agreed to give a $20,000 purse for it. I was to receive $4,000 bonus and Herrera and I were to cut the remaining $16,000, 60 and 40 per cent winner and loser, respectively.
On the morning of April 18, just as I was going for my daily spin on the road at Fairview, Hot Springs, a dispatch flashed over the wires bringing news of the most frightful calamity of the century. San Francisco had been struck by an earthquake at 5:18 A. M., and the entire city was in ruins. Of course, I being so well acquainted in San Francisco, I was anxious
for the welfare of my many friends and immediately hurried to Los Angeles and that night got aboard the Los Angeles Examiner special and arrived on the scene the following morning. The sight viewed as I stepped off the ferry on the 'Frisco side was a picture of death, ruin, wreck and destruction I shall carry fresh in my memory to the grave.
THE BATTLER DONATES $I,OOO.
On my arrival at Los Angeles a relief fund had been started, to which nearly everybody contributed. I responded with a check for $1,000. Owing to the disaster, McCarey had the Nelson-Herrera fight postponed for a few weeks, which was acceptable to both parties.
The day following the boxing carnival we gave for the benefit of the sufferers, in company with "Megaphone" Cook, I peddled papers on the street corners of Los Angeles and swelled the fund $181 more.
The fight was booked for the last week in May, and everything went lovely up to 6 o'clock, the time for the weighing in, when the Herrera party tampered with the scales, making it impossible to weigh in on them. McCarey and I suggested that we go to Barney Bloom's Turkish bathrooms, on Third street, where there was a physician's scale, to weigh in. I proceeded to the bathhouse to weigh, expecting Herrera there also. I waited for three-quarters of an hour, and commenced to think Herrera was not going to appear. I stepped
on the scale before the officials and stakeholder, and was well under weight.
About 9 o'clock I arrived at the clubhouse and demanded that Herrera weigh, but he refused, stating that he found it impossible to make weight after eating a hearty meal. I allowed him two pounds grace ; still he refused. Then I offered to fight if he weighed 138 or less. In desperation, I finally raised the weight to 140. and still he refused.
As the last resort I offered to fight him at catch weights, providing he step on the scales. He refused, declaring the fight off entirely.
THE BATTLER'S TRAINING CAMP AT ESSINGTON ON
THE DELAWARE. PREPARING FOR THE McGOVERN
FIGHT. PHILADELPHIA MARCH 14, 1906.
(BY FRED ELDRIDGE.)
We’ll not forget old Essington,
Upon the Delaware,
In March, when we were training
For McGovern's battle there.
At Rosedale Inn, (Delaney'-s house)
And "living high" for fair.
'Twas Battling Nelson's training camp,
That we were quartered at,
With good old scouts and fighters
Starting off with Champion "Bat"
And John R. Robinson the Battler's
friend
And a pretty good one at that.
Frank McKinley, of Toledo,
Was one of them, and he
In passing out his rights and lefts
Was busy as a bee;
And at his weight a clever lad,
As any one could see.
And Hugh McMahon, a sturdy boy,
Came from Toledo, too,
And though he wasn't frisky
No one ever saw him "blue,"
And few there were of boxing ticks
That "Hughey" couldn't do.
Kid Abel, came from out the West,
Chicago sent him down
To "rough it up" with Nelson,
And you never saw a frown
Upon the good Kid's kindly face
A prince, without a crown.
And newsboy Kelly, from Buffalo
Was there amongst the bunch,
But all he tried to put away
Was friend Delaney's "lunch."
And what he got was better than
A "solar-plexus" punch.
And Spink came down from Cleveland
With the jolly Roko game,
And when the boys got busy
It was anything but tame.
And all developed punches
Very difficult to name.
As down the road of life we roam
And battles come and go,
The pleasant hours that we have spent
Bring happiness, and so,
Let's all remember Essington,
The week before the show.
THE BATTLER AT LOS ANGELES ASSISTING SAN
FRANCISCO'S DESTITUTE.
BY ENGLISH JACK.
"Who is that human megaphone?"
The deafened listener cried
"It's Mr. Cook, the talking man"
The weary one replied.
"Who is that little sun-burned man
Who takes in so much dough?"
"It's Battling Nelson" he replied
"At least, they told me so."
For they're selling evening papers
And they're going by the score.
They're not giving any change back
But it don't make people sore
It's to help the great relief fund
They've a hundred now and more,
And it's Bat fhat's selling papers by the million.
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