Evening Star Newspaper, March 2, 1930, Page 96

12 S —————————————————— L —— SAI LOR A Yarn About a Prize Fight—A Different Sort of Battle—MW hich Will Hold the Reader to the Very L.ast Word. Morley Callaghan Is the Author of a Book or Two, but He Is Best Known for His Splendid Short Stories. HERE were 12 pool tables in the club, v a shaded pyramid of white light over each one of the tables. The corners of the room were shadowed. On a bench at the wall four fellows in peak caps and one in a hard hat were watching a game. It was 10 minutes to 7, Saturday even . '!‘hi:lyg were watching Joe Harmon, a big man with a slow grin and a dark smudge under his left eye, and his manager, Doc Barnes, a small, neat man with shiny black hair. Doc Barnes, concentrating, looked carefully at three balls on the table, then looked at them from anpther angle, and finally, with his hip on the end of the table, leaned over the green baize. * «All right, one foot on the floor,” Joe said. “It’s there; keep your shirt on,” the Doc said, fcinting with his cue. “On the floor, Doc.” “I got it on the floor, I tell ya.” “yeah, if your leg was three inches longer, with him. - Joe Harmon watched it, one hand on his hip. In his other hand he held the cue, the handle . butt on the floor. He cleared his throat loudly, aiming at the spittoon. The cue fell against the table. He took two slow steps toward the crowd, his heavy red face wrinkling at the mouth and under his eyes, and lines on his forehead. Doc Barnes jumped down from the table suddenly, grabbing Joe's arm. “Lay off, Joe,” he said coaxingly. “Sit down, Doc.” “Don’t get in it, Joe. Oomeon.getoutolr Very angry, Doc Barnes jerked him around. “you big sap,” he said, “what do you want mix- ing up in that ‘stuff? Come on, you thick- head.” He grabbed Joe’s vest from a peg on £ i 5ie i i »3% 3] pool room and get it for nothing? It's not business. Don't give your stuff away.” “A guy’'s got to have a little fun now and again. That stuff up in the club there’s real. The other ain't. The other’s just motions.” “Not when you're right, Joe. Not on your life, old boy, when you're ready to let them have it.” He reached over and slapped Joe on the back. The chink brought the hot roast beef’ sandwiches with lots,of gravy. “We could have been up there for half an hour yet,” Joe said, sticking his fork in the sandwich, “though I guess it's time to eat anyhow.” “What do you care? Go on and see Mollie.” “Maybe I might as well,” Joe said. He ate the sandwich rapidly. Joe got on a street car after leaving the chink’s and went eight blocks east to Leslie street to see Mollie Turner. He had been going with Mollie for four years and would have married her, but was uncertain of himself since taking up boxing professionally. She was so eager for him to work hard at training he often imagined he really liked it, though he had explained to her he got tired of sparring and yoad work and even watching bouts, because he was interested only in the big moment in a fight and everything led up to it. She had a room in a house two minutes’ valk from the car stop. ‘He went upstairs : ad into the.room without.knocking. She was sitling in a rocking-chair near :a: floor lamp, : nding a. paper and eating-chocolates. The ko was on the arm of the rgckimgsthair.. Joe " just fight saw the chocolates and looked at the box delib- erately, but didn’t actually suggest having one, because he didn't want to argus for five minutes about training before eating it. The chocolate wasn’t worth it. She had on a black skirt and a neat gray sweater. He kissed her and looked thoughtful, then kissed her again. “You're a little early, eh, Joe?” “Maybe a little, but the earlier the better. We won't have to line up for the show.” He watched her puiting on her coat and pale-blue hat, having only pleasant thoughts and wondering why he had expected some kind of an argument. On the street car she asked questions about Doc Barnes. He answered agreeably, so she kept on asking questions tfll he said, irritated, “Mollie, you know how this bothers me.” She was sullen, and in the show looked directly at the picture, pulling away her hand whenever clumsily , jumped at him. He tapped it lightly on ull and slapped its back, going on through tchen, the pup still biting at his heels ankles. His mother and father were in sat down at the end of the table, nails and worrying about Mollie. Then he pushed the chair back from the table dog that jumped eagerly while from under it, rolling big purses, ¢pportunities, contenders and hard work. Her ambition bothered him, since he was making good money fighting preliminary bouts at the Colissum and main bouts at the Standard Theater. BSuvldier Harmon, a favorite, a reliable fighter. THI: engagements at the Coliseum were more profitable, but he preferred the Standard. ‘The crowd was friendly and close to the rink, his style appreciated. They cheered every time he climbed through the ropes. He was earning a living and was satisfied. Mollie was not satisfied. Doc Barnes wasn't satisfied. His father and mother weren’t satisfied. - He got up, gave the dog something to eat, put it in the cellar and went to bed. In the morning he put a chain on the dog and walked as far as the church with his mother. Every Sunday morning he and the dog walked to church with his mother. At the church he left her and stood on the curb, urging the dog to become playful, while kids going into church looked at him respectfully, noticing the dark smudge under his left eye, and older fellows said distinctly, “There’s Sol- dier Harmon.” Many men had seen his picture in the paper. He stood near the curb, dressed smartly in form-fitting clothes, a purple hand- kerchief tucked carelessly in his breast pocket. He snapped his fingers at the dog, but it " wasn't feeling playful. On Sunday evening he walked with Mollie in University Park and, though it was chilly and frost still in the ground, they sat down in the shadow of a university building. She carefully avoided asking any questions that would irritate him. She sat close to him on the bench, & plump and pretty little girl in a dark-blue overcoat, and, sitting there, he was so pleased and good natured and she was so intensely interested in his work, he seemed to be asking himself questions. He kissed her and told her he was matched with Harry Greb, the middleweight champion, in September out at the Coliseum. She was enthusiastic. But it was too cold to be sitting on a park bench; her nose was red, her feet were cold. So they got up, both shivering, to look for a cafe where they could get coffee. He remembered that Sunday evening, because he had felt like definitely suggesting they get married, but was glad he had hesitated, for in the hot Summer months every time he saw her she seemed to be looking at him critically, ready to ask about training and road work. At times he wished she didn’t know so much about fighting. She was working at a notion counter in a 5 and 10 cent store and in the afternoons he used to go in and see her. One afternoon, leaning against her counter, he said, “I think I'll get a real job, Mollie.” “My heavens, man, what do you mean?” she asked. “I'm getting tired of doing nothing.” “Nothing!” “Sure. I don't think much of workouts and sparring and all that stuff.” Her boss came along the aisle and Joe left. 'He walked all the way home. He had intended to tell hér ‘how eager he ‘wis to get a job and he felt like it. She ‘wouldn’t HARMON THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHIN O One of the Best He felt the impact stiffening his arm, his heart pounding, his breath held ] seriously. He had had an argument with ho was trying to teach him footwork, said to Barnes: “Look here, Doc, ter, not a boxer. I don't ever want sHE e thick head, that was the trouble. For first time he had been disgusted with Barnes idea of being a professional fighter. He understood finally that he was a business investment for Barnes. ERE Indian was afraid of him and the other man . fouled him. Joe told his father he was losing interest in his work; too many things were getting on his nerves. His father suggested that he get married and settle down, and Joe felt unhappy. “I think maybe Mollie’s a little too much for me,” he said. Alone in his own room he felt sorry for Mollie and disappointed in himself. He had been going with her four years and knew he ought to marry her. He liked her, but felt it would be unfair to marry her, knowing he would only disappoint her. She was a business woman and a lovely girl, but very determined. R two weeks he trained seriously for his fight with Harry Greb. Greb was a smaller man than the Soldier, though always impres- sive against a slow, awkward man. ‘The crowd enjoyed watching his arms moving like a wind . mill while he pounded a slow man. Joe was eager to meet him, because he thought he might knock him out. Only very good ‘men beat Greb. After training an hour at the Adonis in the evening Joe took the street car to Mollie’s house and together they went out to Sunnyside, the amusement park on the lake front. They had two hot dogs and stood on the boardwalk listening to the orthophonic victrola. - Joe wanted to buy some French-fried potatoes, a . few glasses of pineapple juice and some toasted waffles, but Mollie insisted it would be hard on his wind. They argusd. She was consid- erate, understanding, but firm. She reminded him how important it was for them that he should knock out Greb. When he stood in front of the waffie stand, arguing, she took him by the arm and they walked out of the park along to the road that leads into High Park, a natural park, with hills, a pond, many bridle paths through trees and benches in unexpected places. They sat down on a bench in a hollow be- tween low hills. There was a moon. Mollie looked pretty, her clothes seemed to fit her, and she was neater than when he had met her four years ago, He was silent a long time, knowing she was feeling irritable. To get her feeling good, he began to talk about big purses he would get, if he knocked out Greb. “What do you think of that? he said. “You know what I think.” “Yeah?"” “Sure; I suppose we'll get married at once and take a trip,” she said. “Sure we would, Mollie.” “Yes, we would.” She looked very sad. He felt uncomfortable. It was time to suggest get- ting married at once, but e could only stretch his legs, ‘feeling unhappy. Then he ‘felt that er.” The Doc had told him he - then Goldie toppled. he owed a great deal to her, a sincere feeling, and his thick fingers were running through her hair, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. Her silence embarrassed him as he watched automobile headlights on the road that dipped out of sight. She got up and said angrily: “You're an old slow poke, Joe; that's all there is to it.” They walked back the way they had come. When he left her, later on in the evening, he kissed her roughly, but within himself he was unsatisfied because he couldn't think of a satisfactory solution. Instead of going home he went into a soda fountain and had two choco- late sodas, sitting on the high stool, his elbows on the counter, trying to feel good. He wanted to marry her. Sooner or later he would marry her, and then she'd see that he got many bouts and good purses. . He decided to tell her that he had no use for boxing matches, and. would rather have a job, getting into a fight occasion- ally. He rarely got the right feeling out of one of the boxing matches. N Saturday night Harry Greb beat Soldier Harmon out at the Coliseum. The Soldier fought with such ‘distinction his name was in all the papers. He knocked Greb out in the third round, but the bell saved him. His sec- onds worked over him so he could stall through the fourth round; and then he punched Joe so often he got tired. The Soldier's face was badly marked, but on Sunday morning he walked with his mother to church. S Mollie couldn’t understand why Joe was so pleased with himself. ¢ “I hit him dead on, didn't I?" he said. “That’s not the point.” “He was really out, wasn't he?” “But if you could have finished him.” “It was wonderful, really wonderful,” he said. The third round was the only part of the fight he seemed to remember distinctly. Many people talked to him about it, Doc Barnes, his father and mother, sporting writers, and he re- minded them of the third round, grinning hap- pily. Doc Barnes was so-impressed by Joe's durability he consented to a bout with Tommy Goldie, a big Negro heavyweight, a graceful boxer, whom he had carefully avoided because of his speed. Joe shook hands with Barnes when he heard of the match with Goldie. He was intérested in meeting the Negro, not because of local rivalry, although Goldie had been jeering at him for months, but he had watched him work- ing out at one of the gyms, a big lean body working smoothly, and he had been aware of a nervous eagerness, the old feeling that came to him when watching a man he wanted to knock out. He rarely saw a man who was to be his opponent until they met in the ring. He liked the surprise and satisfaction of looking aeross the ring and seeing some one who ex- cited him. Some of them were disappointing. He knew instinetively that Goldie would be satisfactory. Two weeks before the fight he quarreled with Mollie. She had become nervous and irritable, In a temper she had used some words that had surprised him. When his father and mother stubbornly insisted that he was being unfair to the girl, he tried to make it clear for everybody econcerned, explaining earefully his feeling that marriage with Mollie would mean a long tire-