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SHOWMAN
time he liked. Within ten minutes of reading that, I had counted up all my available assets and discovered that they totaled just a little more than $2500.
"Jim/' I said, "here's our chance— we're off." At nine o'clock the next morning, while the other fellows were still thinking about it, I was down at the office of the stakeholder— Joe Eakins, it was, sporting editor of the old New York World— with $2500 in nice new bills. I wasn't even worried about raising the balance. With Corbett's personality and the Sullivan challenge as capital, that was a "cert."
We took the obvious method— a barnstorming pugilistic tour. Fighters still make these tours and they're still the shadiest end of the fight-game. In big places, where the sporting editors were hep to a good deal, we gave straight exhibitions between Corbett and a sparring partner— and well worth seeing, too. But in smaller places, where boxing was practically extinct and nobody knew anything much, we pulled the old gag of "will meet all comers," offering $100 to any local boy who could stay with Corbett for three or four rounds— three if possible. They tell me that the only funny business Sullivan ever pulled on these tours was giving a local pug $25 to appear and take a dive— meaning let himself be knocked out— when nobody would dare climb into the ring with the champion. Playing it on the level as far as possible would have been Sullivan's way all right. But my man was no such undamageable ox as Sullivan and, although Corbett could hit
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