When Alex Greggains couldn't whip me San Franciscans about decided that I was a tough nut. They began looking around for a man who could whip me.

                Finally they hit on Joe Choynski. Joe was in the east at the time and when Tim McGrath said I would take him on under certain conditions, Choynski's friends telegraphed him.

                The match was made with the understanding that Choynski was to try and knock me out in eight rounds.    

                Choynski and I met at the People's Palace, corner of Mason and Eddy streets, and I had never seen Joe before he stepped into the ring.

                I knew the minute I saw him that he had bitten off more than he could chew.

                Choynski, you know, had little thin legs, and he wore his hair bushy, like Paderewski.

                I wanted to laugh when I saw him. The idea of a little thin, dudish fellow like that stopping me seemed ridiculous to think of.

HARD HITTER
                But I didn't laugh. Tim McGrath had told me that I was not to underrate Choynski - that he was one of the hardest hitters in the world.

                And besides, in my corner that night, with McGrath, was Spider Kelly. I had heard about the Spider long before I ever arrived in San Francisco; people had told me that he was a great second, and that he was still a crackerjack of a fighter.

                I spoke to Kelly about Choynski. "He doesn't look tough," I said; "bet I can break him in two."

                "Never mind how he looks," said the Spider, "you'll find him tough enough. Look out for his left. If he hits you with it on the right spot we'll be taking you home in a hearse."

                And, take it from me, the second the gong sounded I found that Kelly had the right dope. Choynski had a sure enough left. I could feel it whizzing past my ears.      

USES RIGHT
                I did a bit of thinking in the first round. Back in Honolulu, a man named Fred Nealon, who trained me for some of my fights, depended on a left-hand punch.

                "When he leads," said Nealon, "duck a little to the side and step in with your right. Hold your arm stiff and dig your glove into his ribs."       

                Every time Choynski lead I stepped in and caught him. I didn't mind his other punches. I caught them on the neck and face. But every time he tried to use his straight left I beat him to it with my right.
 
                The fight had been going less than two minutes when I sent Choynski through the ropes with one of my rib roasters.

                What followed cannot be easily described. I thought Hades had broken loose and that I was right in the center of it all. Eddie Graney, who was in Choynski's corner, jumped in through the ropes and claimed a foul. And Spider Kelly jumped in through the ropes and started to lead me to my corner.

CHOYNSKI OUT
                 "You've licked him!" roared the Spider, "come away! Get out!"

                 Alva King, who was refereeing, didn't know what had happened. Graney's attitude frightened him. He ran around the ring asking questions, with Graney jumping in front of him and yelling "Foul! Foul!"

                 Meanwhile Choynski had been dragged to his corner and was recuperating.

                 It was a terrible mess. Everybody in the crowd was standing up and yelling - you couldn't hear yourself think.

                 Graney ran to Mose Gunst. Mose then was Police Commisioner, and, with an officer at his side, had been sitting in the press row - just outside the ring.

                 "Mose!" screamed Graney, "Mose! Choynski has been fouled!"

                 Whether Gunst was responsible for what happened after Graney appealed to him I don't know, but, anyhow, Choynski was given from fifteen to twenty minutes to recuperate. When we were ordered to fight again Choynski was just as fresh, if not as confident, as when he started.

BLUFFS REFEREE
                  Graney, so I learned afterwards, laughed at the way he had "buffaloed" the referee, and, in fact, admitted that Choynski had not been fouled. He explained his action with the statement that it was all a part of the game, and that he thought if a second could fool or bluff a referee it was his business to do so.

                  I also learned that Graney, after having the fight stopped in order to get Choynski his rest, was instrumental in getting it started again. He said that the people had paid their money to see a fight and that it wouldn't be right to deprive them of the fun.  

                 Now that it's all over I can laugh at what Graney did. But I was a mad sailor at the time. I couldn't understand that Eddie in saving his man, who had actually been knocked out, had accomplished a wonderful piece of work.

                 The fact that I held Choynski to an eight-round draw did not help my feelings. Nor did the fact that the papers next day all agreed that Choynski could hardly have gone two rounds more.

                 All I knew was that Choynski had agreed to stop me; that instead I had stopped him, and that I had been bamboozled out of the decision.