Document text
Accession no. 1
WPA L. C. PROJECT litritaraYUNIT
Form -3
111. 3679
Date received
3.0/1(J/40
Consignment no.
Shipped from
Wash. ‘qfice
Label
Amount
7p
ii:Caklara..._Collection (or Type)
Title..i/P41.01._ OATS° te re I
_toy
Place of origin
The g44#;c44 ittmmt
Date..44111/48
(r .D.0
Project worker Jorosto 1. Power
Project editor
Remarks
11W3C
2,100 words
by Zirome W. Power,
Federal Writers Project
The Boston Strong Boy
"Shake the hand that shook the hand of John L. Sullivan!"
I offer my nand thus,through the medium of printer's ink.
John L. Sullivan,former heavyweight champion of the world,was 53
years old when I interviewed him,as a young newspaper reporter,
In the summer of 1911 while he was stopping at the Jlaypool rtotel
in Indianapolis,Indiana. He shook my hand on that occasion. With-
out meaning in the least to hurt me,he gave my carpals such a ear
dining that they still ache at the memoryoms after all these
years. He was that strong,even at 53.
"Come on up,my boy!" he boomed over the telephone,when I call-
ed him from the lobby. Then,at the entrance to his room,eams the
handshake. He took my card,waved me to a chair near a table and
walked over to the double window,where the morning sunlight
streamed through the curtains.
I took a good look at him and saw what *WI/Alike an unusual-
ly big Irish policeman,off duty in plain clothes. That was the
first impression. leurther inspection,however,showed me more a
great deal more. To tell the truth,he did not look as big as my
knowledge of his ring exploits had led me to eiPect. Ile was tall,
but his great shoulders and the paunch whicn ae aad developed at
53 prevented this from being apparent at first glance. he weighed,
I should judge,well over 200 pounds,but having seen him walk
across the room,on the balls of his feet,with all the lightness and
grace ofAcat,I had trouble in convincing myself that even tie was
true.
He had a wellrshaped.heAd not the "bullet" type of many'pug-
theta and dark hair whiek-Wbas turning gray. Re carried this
W379
head at a proud angle which gave emphasis to his prominent jaw. Aim
face was somewhat florid,so that even without knowing who he was,
one would have said "liere is a man who has been a hard drinker."
He had a fine mustache in the old tradition. otarting below his
'nostrils this mustache,a few shades grayer than his hair,extended
in leisurely fashion over his lip and all the way across his face
on both sides. The under edges were a trifle ragged nd•thecutl
let -tite ends vas upeouTd. He had a eustom of-snoiftAiis
so be wee about to 'my somothlweltor Witloh, he, would- etrOke
mustache,first on one side,then on the other. i got the idea taat
this strokirr business acted as a sedative on him.
-le wore a wing collar around his bull neck. During the inter-
view he told me that he had these made to order,since the largest
stock size was much too small for him. ais saoulders were broad,
Trithout being in an sense square. They sloped beautifully into
arms which seemed not unusually long or heavy. The hands were
large and powerful,aa I had received recent evidence. Fie sported
a blue tie,bow fashion,with a conservative white figure,but his
suit,while of good cut and material,did not set well upon him.
The knees of his trowsers bagged and the whole could have stood
pressing. Ae had a fancy vest of flowered material and a heavy
watch ehain,prominent across the front.
John L. Sullivan's eyes,to my mind,wers his most remarkable
physical characteristic. They were the rare type which change col-
or according to emotion. I decided at first that they were blue and
rather mild,then a little 10er;as we talked,that they were steel
gray and hard. Oats or toilie I eould have sworn that they turned
black and shot sparks of red fire,as he became vehement about this
or that point.
In repose his features were rather pleasant just a trifle on
the stern side,perhaps. But when anger stirred him,he could assume
the most ferocious scowl I have ever seen on a human. I began to
understand why some of the men he fought were beaten even before
he hit them.
He talked with a pereeptible,but not pronouncea,brogus. When he
became excited,however,this brogue grew thicker. ae made small er-
rors in grammar,which stamped him as a man of little education,but
remembering how brief his education really was,one had to admit
that he talked remarkably well.
"Mr. Sullivan ,I began.
"Let me see," he rumbled,glaneing again at my card, "You have an
Irish name. Call ma John L. I give you permission."
king,making a ruling from the throne,ever spoke with great-
er,more sincere majesty. Believe me,I needed permission to take
such a liberty with the old warrior. I told him that I had been
sent up by my paper to learn what he had to say about fighting,
in 8 most general way and along the lines which might seem good to
him. He asked me to draw my chair up to the table. He would stand,
he said,as he could think better on his feet.
"Well,there's nothing to fighting," he opeued up, "Just come out
fast from your aorner,hit the other fellow as hard as you can and
hit him first. That's all there is to fighting."
He laughed,then at ones grew serious.
"What I should like to talk about is something else. Whiakey!
There's the only fighter that ever really liskad old John L. Jim
Corbett,ascording to the rsiordfhknosked me out in Nsw Orleans in
1892 but he only gave the finishing touches to what whiskey had
already done to me. If I had met Jim L%orbett before whiskey got
me I'd have killed him. i stopped drinkin4 long ago,but of course,
too late. Too late for old John L. ,but not too late for millions
of boys who are starting out to follow the same road. I desire to
use the years of life which remain to me to warn these boys,to
turn them back. John L. Sullivan,champion of the world,could not
lick whiskey. What gives any one of them the notion that he cant"
I dtdn't wish to hear anything about temperance,but the famous
scowl was in evidence and the red sparks about which I was telling
you gleamed in the dark eyes. fou would thins twice about trying
to stop John L. Sullivan,no matter what he was doing. I listened,
therefore,while for the next twenty minutes,without a break,he
paced up and down tne room talking about whiskey. He talked with
eloquence,too. 3illy ounday could nava gotten ideas. He snorted
and stroked his mustache. once a small chair 4ot in his way. He
kicked it absently,without seeming to use much force,but the chair
flew end over end all the way across the large room. When the tor-
rent of words ended,I put my cards on the table.
"John L.," I said with truth, "you have given me a talk about
whiskey which I shall never forget,but if I go back to my city ed-
itor with nothing else,he will throw my story into the ash -can and
me,too,I expect. At wants you to talk about fighting. After all,
you were the fighting champion,not the temperance champion."
dc sighed and sat down,then looked at me with a quick smile. Ala
mood had changed.
"I'm just an old man no,W, xesumsd, "and what I have to say
about fighting has all beek;o1 -‘n thousana times or more,.
gusss. Mostly,I said it my:tikes (fiats). I leave talking to
these present day fighters. JIM Corbett is one of the best talkers
that ever lived."
"I thought you and Jim made it up years ago," I ventured. I re-
ferred to the feud,well known in sporting cireles,between these
two great champions. /or a long while John L. could not forgive
Corbett for taking the championship from him. In New York mutual
friends at last got them together and forced them to shake hands.
Corbett was willint; enough,but John L.,even though admitting free-
ly that the pompadoured speed merchant had beaten him fairly,could
never quite forgive him.
"Oh,of course," he roared,slapping his knee, "Jim and I are
great friends now. I still say,though,that if I had met him be-
fore whiskey got me,I'd have put him away like I did the others.
I'm trying to give you now the real inside story of that fight
in New Orleans. Tell your city editor,damn him,that whiskey has
more to do with fighting than he imagines."
"Who gave you the toughest fight of your career?" I asked.
"Well,that's a question! host of them were plenty tough. Jake
Kilrain was one of the hardest to lick. L;harley Mitehell,the &ng-
lishman,gave me a lot of trouble,too,but in a different way. By
talking to me all the time in the ring,from the first bell,he
got my goat. de threw more insults ini4my direction than blows.
When I took out after him,he ran. de did not dare to stand up
and slug with me and that is why I had trouble in licking him."
"Yes,Uharley kitthell had the reputation of being a bad se-
tor,s11 right," I agreed, "but should we expect too much of
Znglishmen?"
"Well,no,not as a ru10- have known a few who were strict-
ly on the up and up. ''Unajn,partieular."
"Who was the
"Why,King z;dward VII," said John L. "He was a real fellow. Liommon
as an old shoe. We got well acquainted when I was across the pond.
i4 made orget that Iit's talking t,4 mweaty."
"Yss,if some of the things they say you said to him are true,"
I laughed, "that must have been the ease."
"Oh,none of that stuff is true. I always remembered that I wee
an American,and never slobbered in the dirt to him or any other
king. On the other hand, 4. treated Kini, K'dward with the full respect
due his station at all times. This seemed to get on his nerves a
little,because he told me,in exactly these words,to forget that he
was royalty and to treat him just like he was one of the boys. Af-
ter that,I did as he asked. I suppose all those newspaper yarns
which try to make a chump out of me started on that account."
"how about that story which tell about you killing a horse
with one blow of your fietY"
"That's another one, That never did happen. I always liked
horses and I swear on the cross that I never killed one,with my
fist or any other way.
"In fact," he continued,looking at a gold watch almost as large
as an alarm clock, "most at the real harm I ever did -An tits world
wee done to just one man yours truly,Johm I. ulitvsn I makw no
secret of thist..iiven the fella** I pounded in tie ring' iSte all
right again after a few days -.avowing fresh ehallenga at IMAM
if nothing had ever happened to them. Today many a. 4-a ftgh1f
ers make more money than I made when I was chaMpion of-tki world.
Fighters now seem to think of nothing but money I thautht first of
the fact that I was champion of the 'mad and I itima,alwaye ready
to prove that I was ,any time,anyplaatriagatnit: 'iteilitiirtier. I
fought in barne,on barges mita tiwbarelt reasivat-aatiesiat
gate,as they say,was a secondary consideration. I would bet heavi-
ly on myself and,of course,always won until Jim Corbett beat me
for the championship. That time I lost my shirt. Thousands of my
friends all over the country,who thought I was unbeatableI guess,
lost their shirts,too. That is the thing which made me so sore
about this fight."
"Yes," I hastened to agree, "the old-timers cannot understand,
even today,how you came to lose. But I have never heard any man
question your honesty."
"Well,I hev traveled a long,hard road," h went:on and the
eyes were blue end mild again "but I have been honest all the
way. I toured this country from one end to the other,offering $50
to any man who could stay on his feet for three rounds in the ring
with me. Nobody ever collected,but don't think they didn't try!
Can you imagine the champion of the world doing that today?"
I couldn't and said so frankly. Then,judging the interview to
be at an end,I started to leave. he walked with me to the door.
"I realize," he concluded, "that it is herd for me to say any-
thing new about fighting. I never had a great deal to say,even
when 1 watt champion of the world,beastoe,as you have said,I was a
fighting champion,not a talking champion. I give you permission to
write anything about me you please,within reasonable limits. My
fighting days are all over and what's printed now makes little dif-
ference to me. If you can get some of the things I have said about
whiskey past that city editor oryours,so much the better. If he
wants a story about fighting he'll have to pay some attention to
whiskey,beeause I say to you agaio,that in spite of the record,
whiskey is the only fighter Who ever naked John L. Sullivan,
champion of the world!"
Thus ended my first ano last interview with the poston Strong
Boy. ya