Argosy, Vol. 118, No. 2 — page 38: what you’re looking at

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

188 him what I wanted of him and went along with me. Cassidy bought us a couple of suits, which he said was appropriate for Australians — loose-fittin’? garments of stained-glass tints, gunboat shoes and caps —then he bought us a couple of trunks and we were ready. 3 We began operations from Chicago. We entered a hotel there as Joe Conner and Cornelius O’Mara, of New York, and left it Alf Hayes and Bull McArdle, of Mel- bourne. The trunks I plastered with phony hotel and steamship labels which I’d dug up as evidence of our trip from Australia and across the United States from Frisco. From Chicago I mailed to all the New York sportin’ editors neat little news pieces to the effect that Alf Hayes, pilotin’ Bull McArdle, the knockout king of Australia, would ar- rive at the Penn station at 11 P.M. on Wednesday, the twenty-sixth. McArdle, said the article, was a wealthy young farmer-whose middle name was fight. He hadn’t monkeyed around the ring much in Australia because there was nobody there who could give him a go. That was put in with the idea of stillin’ suspicion when it was discovered that there was no Bull Mc- Ardle among the Australian knuckle-push- ers. Then came the story of the three one- round knockouts of Matty Hughes and the part Matty had played in the fightin’ career of Mike Regan. McArdle, the article fin- ished, bein’ desirous of becomin’ champion of the world, was ready to start at the top and tackle Mike Regan. He was willin’ to bet any amount he could lick Mike and to fight him under any conditions Mike or his manager might suggest. The part of the story havin’ to do with the knockout of Mike Regan by Matty Hughes went big. The newspapers all went after Cassidy about that. Cassidy, know- in’ the best way of gettin’ anything into the newspapers is by tryin’ to hide it, at . first denied that Mike had ever even heard of Matty Hughes. The reporters’ clever _ questions, however, drawed out of him the reluctant admission that there was a blot om ‘Mike’s book of life. Cassidy betrayed signs of panic at the thought of Mike bein’ stacked up against a guy who could lick Matty Hughes in a punch, thereby causin’ THE ARGOSY. each and every reporter to become imme- diately a volunteer press-agent for the pro- ject of stagin’ such a match. Lest these guys were not convinced then that the arrival of Bull McArdle was worth a good write-up, Cassidy denounced Bull and his manager, Alf Hayes, as a pair of no- toriety-seekers, endeavorin’ to make capital of the sterlin’ reputation of Mike Regan, and he threatened libel suits and beatin’s up to every guy who printed a word about the man from Australia. Put thus on their mettle, the reporters proceeded to demon- strate the freedom of the press by givin’ the event a half a colyum or so, instead of the little squib it was worth. And when Cor- nelius O’Mara and me stepped off the train on the night of the twenty-sixth there was a mob of sportin’-writers and flashlight photographers there to meet us. Havin’ devoted many long hours to the perfection of a style of speech suitable to a pilgrim from the Antipodes I was ready for them. O’Mara had been instructed to pretend he was deaf and dumb. It was funny to see the reporters tryin’ to get a statement out of him and him replyin’ “huh!” and “ ah!” and “ hah?” which I’d learned him was the only sounds he was to make under penalty of losin’ his job. I, though, addressed the reporters as “‘ me lads,” assured them that Bull and me wouldn’t rest until we’d got this bally, bloomin’ bloke Regan into the ring, give them a little lecture on crop, trade and sport conditions in Australia which I’d memorized from some magazine articles Cassidy’s press- agent had found and then beat it for a hotel in a taxi. Bull McArdle got a whole scrap-book full of notices the-next mornin’ The reporters commented on his remarkable physique and rugged countenance, offerin’ evidence of the truth of their statements in the flashlight photos of Bull that accompanied the ar- ticles. bs Cassidy was around to the newspaper offices that day almost as early as the prin- ters. He bawled out the sports-writers who’d give the Australian all that space and left behind him in each office a little typewritten sheet darin’ Bull McArdle or. his manager to put up some of the money -“ (C@) nichboo (C CS (C©)