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SHOWMAN
simmons the year before in New Orleans. We'd hired him as a sparring partner for Corbett half out of charity, but he earned his pay and to spare during the fight when he thought quicker and acted faster than any of us in a great emergency.
All the while we were in training, Mitchell kept firing hot shots at Corbett, to keep him in a blind rage until the fight. He was always ready with a grin and a scornful crack. When we got a record-breaking thunderstorm, Mitchell cocked his ear at the thunder-peals: "Listen to that, boys," he said to the reporters. "That must be that Yankee dude punching the bag over at Mayport. Just 'ear 'im!"
I got my share too— when I'd be over at Mitchell's camp making arrangements, he'd say:
"I say, Brady, you'll want a doctor in that Yankee dude's corner, you know." That was a favorite of Max Baer's but Mitchell invented it. Or else he'd kid me about that thousand-dollar bet— and Mitchell's kidding was about as gentle as a Florida hurricane. I knew he was working the same psychological game on us that we had worked on Sullivan, but he was clever and there was nothing to do about it.
We were there at the express invitation of the most prominent citizens of Jacksonville, which should have smoothed our path considerably. But the State of Florida, particularly Governor Mitchell, felt about us much the same way the citizens of Chicago had. For a while, it looked as if we'd have to call the fight off or
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