Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 127: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

GENTLE GENDER. makes them pictures with his pen; and what he ever trains for, I don’t know, as he don’t do nothing any other fighter ever did. He ain't lazy, but he just don’t seem to get no good out of his work-outs and the slappings with his partners. In the first place he don’t never hit none of them hard enough toe make them jump, and to keep myself out of prison, I has to warn them to lay off his sore ear. The last fight he has before he reaches the heights where I can have him challenge Mickey Squires, is with Carl Madigan. Now Madigan is one of the best boys in the ring to-day; one of them unlucky guys that gets so far without never quite making the grade. He hits hard, he is a great boxer, and it is handed out by all the dope writers that my boy will die in the first round. Meeting Madigan’s manager, Skeeters Gir- son, on the street a couple of days before the fight, I apologizes to him and tells him that Joe ain’t in very good shape, as he has been working late at nights on his arts and in addition I says Joe has a sore left ear. Garson draws me out and unwillingly I speaks of the facts that Joe does pictures on the side, which sends Skeeters off into fits of laughter. I asks Skeeters to tell Madigan to fight fair and rot smack Joe in the left ear no more’n he can help it. Well, sir, the fight draws a great crowd and a lot of money. Madigan starts right off to kid Joe about his pictures in the first round, and before I sends Joe in for the second turn, I tells him to mash that - banana for casting aspersions on his dreams. And Joe hops into the ring kinda mad, and two seconds later, Madigan belts him in the ear—and the fight is over. Later, the sports writers goes mad and says Joe is the only logical contender for the crown. Moe Smith, on the Telegraph asks me to get a couple of Joe’s pen and ink works when he ain’t looking—which I does and Moe brings them out, and they creates a lot of favorable talk. This puts Joe up in the eighth heaven. A couple of months later, after a lot of hard work, and some side-steppin’ on the part of Micky Squires’ manager, I gets the big fight for the middle of September. Well, sir, I fixes up this match for the oo fare-you-well by getting into the Garden; the gate receipts looks like the mint and the advertising is worth a million. But I gets a awiul headache out of it. Two nights before the big fight, Joe goes into one of his nut fits and I can’t do nothing with him. He says he won’t never fight no more as he has had some of his pictures shown, and the fight business ain’t no fun and is taking him away from his art. This gets me kinda goofy, as I knows that if this Montana freak ever did make up his mind not to go through with the mill, nothing in the world would lead him into it. I has spent hours in his room going over his pictures and telling him how great he is as a artist; and never once does I mention the fight. Along about ten o’clock he gets up and begins to walk around the room like a caged monkey. Pretty soon he sits down in a chair and leans his face in his hands, looking at me. ‘Mr. Bocker,” he says, “I ain’t gettin’ nowheres in this business.” “ What!” I yells, jumping up. ‘ You ain’t gettin’ nowheres? What’s the matter with you? You is the talk of the country, and with this match comin’ off with the champ heavyweight—say, you ain’t been takin’ nothin’, has you?” “No,” he says, still deep in this crazy mood which is worrying me to death. ‘‘ No, only I ain’t goin’ to never make a prize- fighter.” Wham! Can you beat that line of talk from a boob which has rushed up the ladder in the short time this one has and is stand- in’ before the heavyweight championship? ‘Looky here,” I says easily, seeing they is no use to pound him, “I'll make you a promise, Joe—honest I will.” | ‘“ All right,” he returns, without looking at me. “Tf you smacks Micky Squires out of the ring for the blue ribbon,” I says, putting a hand on his head, “I'll see that you gradually work out of the game if you don’t want to hold the title. I has got enough dough lined up in this here match to make us both independent.” “JT guess I won’t fight him,” says Joe, getiing up out of his chair and reaching for some of his pictures.” Eomichbooks:co Wwe sy i Boat i ied