Showman (1937)

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SHOWMAN a youngster, few women could resist the temptation to turn round and take another look at his long, straight back and the easy swing of his shoulders— and, if Corbett had picked my girl, I'd have been out of luck. But as it was we got along fine and every week-end, when he ran down to Santa Cruz on the train, I chatted with him in the time I could spare from business. He thought of his boxing at the Olympic Club, the finest athletic outfit in the city, as recreation— the kind of recreation that a brisk young husky would naturally take to. No up from the gutter in his case— his father was reasonably well off, being the best-thought-of undertaker in the respectable Irish community of Hays Valley. If Jim had stayed in banking, he'd have made his mark. He was the smart, clean, likable, able kind who go a long way in whatever they do. But the combination of his natural aptitudes, the finest physique the Almighty ever put together, solid courage and the expert teaching of Walter Watson, the Olympic Club instructor, edged him nearer and nearer the professional ring. While I was barnstorming all over the country, Corbett's fighting fame was filling San Francisco and beginning to leak over into the sporting world at large. It made talk when, in an exhibition, he outpointed Jack Burke, the English middleweight champion. There was more talk about his three fights with Joe Choynski, the other great local heavyweight. Twice Corbett won— the third set-to was broken up by the 79