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SHOWMAN
didn't even grunt, just walked back to his corner at the end of the round as cheerful as he'd come out of it.
Financially the fight was a huge success. We took in $70,000 and we'd have done a lot better if it hadn't rained buckets that night and bogged down our railroad connections. That was New York's first championship bout and excitement ran high. They were betting huge sums at three and four to one on Fitz. As I passed through the audience just before the fight, Jesse Lewisohn asked me my private opinion and looked grave when I said Fitz was booked for a licking. Afterwards I found that, on the strength of my word alone, he'd hedged out $20,000 that he'd bet on Fitz— one of the few heavy bettors who didn't take a terrific beating. Ruby Robert never had a chance, in spite of the wise guys and their big bankrolls.
I suppose I should have been all steamed up over getting Fitz knocked loose from the title he'd taken away from my friend Corbett. But I found it rather a flavorless victory— just another business deal that had worked out according to plan. I missed the color and flash that had made Corbett a stage-favorite as well as a ring-favorite. So did the public. We did put Jeff into a play called ''The Man from the West," and he wasn't half as bad an actor as most fighters. But the public was apathetic— there was nothing like the business Corbett had done in "Gentleman Jack" and "A Naval Cadet."
Still, there was a certain amount of private satisfaction for me in having the company of "The Man
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