The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 23, 1905, Page 7

STRIKE IN a MmN TE”" N THE train the other day I met & priest who was a boy with me Boston. We hadn't met in is & member of an or- h every man gnust be ready es to go anywhere and do red. He was on his way to the hwe: so far from anywhere thet be may never get back, but that one, two, three. you would have when we had set- Wall- of = Guard a Street Panfc-Maker. Refusal Job to k i I asked him what b c of the g W street,” the man en went and a certain company so started you can his man, you will We figure that the t over in about a week right off quick, be- ends who bad got one sore on the r man B for all get it good.” that the man who to use punch at a price hired e of men who knew how to shoot ow room to finish 4 in to do on the public. Changes for the Better. y, take it from me that this is a country. On my travels, I meet h and the low, and everybody to be making good. The rich are g more than belongs to them, but the man who works is better off than ever. The farmers out here in the West live like fighting cocks and the gold- ick artists are not separating them » their bank accounts as easy as they were, for the farmer gets the papers and is & very wise guy. Anybody with a scheme has to show them before they un- b And the man who works for ody eise puts in fewer hours end re for his sweat than his father job uckle re is kicking and strikes, but y the working man has more for his bet furniture, better food, and an easier time generally father could produce. And his it easler than her mother did, nds of wrinkles are now handy punishment for the out the women. I see these changes in this new country ywest since my last visit out ¢'s something besides booze e spare time, and everybody better for the change. The big here In Oregon is another sign ges, and this belated testl- 10 the two men who hoofed it out t anybody jumping the Sam is pot eny too ex- even if it does seem too r 2 new country to settle for. much on figures, but here's e that anybody cam get: Ten years just before Fitz found the solar ago, plexus, San Francisco had 350,000 people; to-day it has 450,000. Portland had 80,000 ten years ago; now there are 140,000 Seattle had 25,000; now it has 150,000. Los Angeles bas jumped from 50,000 to 125,000, Tacoma from 35,000 to 70,000, and Spokane bas broadened from 15000 to 40,000 in the same ten years. But these figures, stiff b IDEMAND THAT ‘You PROVE YOUR IPE.NTITY TRAT YouU ARE JOHN L SULLIVAN AND UNTIL YOU Do, NIX FOR THE SHOwWwW® as they are, don't tell the whole of it. Horace Greeley's advice is as good to-day as ever it was. Where a Promising Middleweight Dis- appeared To. We were talking ‘about what had be- come of some of the fighters'who had dropped out of sight—of Dominick Mec- Caffrey, who lives in Pittsburg; of K Lavigne, who is in Paris showing ama- teurs how to fight; of Jim Hall, who Is now training scrappers in this country; of Jake Kilrain, who lives in Baltimore, and has a son who promises to be as good in the ring as the old man was; of Mys- terious Billy Smith, who is doing well in business out in Oregon; of Steve O’Donnell, who was a boxing instructor in Harvard the last I heard of him—and the name of a fighter who made a great splurge a few years ago came up.. No- body could tell what had happened to him, and it was agreed that he must be dead. One day a year ago, while watching the marjnes drill in the Charlestown Navy Yard, a batch of prisoners passed by under guard of several marines. The prisoners were dressed in dirty gray suits - - (Copyright, 18%05, by A. M. Davis.) (S8 TURNBULL, her arms full of blossoming llacs, entered the dusty day coach and walked slowly down the sisle. The car was crowded. Passing the seats where men sprawled over the hot- looking red plush, she moved forward to halt by the side of an old woman, a gentle faced little creature neatly dressed in a threadbare black barege. “May I sit here?”’ asked Miss Turn- bull. The old woman, glancing up, moved quickly toward the window. “Pray do,” she urged neartily. As Miss Turnbull settled down, her companion, attracted by the purple flowers, put out a wrinkied hand and stroked the fra- grant buds. “They remind me of early days when I lived in the country,” she volunteered with a shy smile. “Of course my son Jim gives me a nice house In the city now,” with a touch of pride. “But I still love the country.” Miss Turnbull smiled, and insensibly the ‘two drifted Into conversation. Yet intel- ligently as her tongue answered, the girl's mind was absorbed in an undercurrent of its own. She was going home, back to York; back to him. ‘'What good was a vacation? It would be three weeks to- morrow since she had gone away. Had he missed her? Dear Jim! It seemed al- most absurd to remember that they had o THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. WWQV/ with roupd hats, and each was hand- cuffed. One prisoner had a bottle of medicine in his hand (the bunch had been up to see the doctor) and although he had a week's growth of beard on his face and looked pale from confinement, T recognized him as the man who had dropped out of the ring and disappeared. “Don’t give me away,” he said to me 2s he passed along. After making some inquiries, T found that he had gone into the navy under a wrong name, deserted, was arrested, had made a fight to get away, and was sen- tenced to several years’ imprisonment by the naval authorities. That fellow, when in the ring, was one of the most prom- ising middleweights in the country. Was John L. Ever Scientific? I got 2 newspaper clipping from a friend containing an account of Jeffries+ and sizing him up as the greatest ever. 1 @on’t object to this kind of advertising, but the article, in comparing him with me in my prime, went on to say: “Sulli- van was never a scientific fighter.” This kind of dope makes me get up on my hind legs. If it would be any good, I 4 L By known each other less than a year, One single dark thread mingled with the happy fabric woven by her thoughts. That was Jim's attitude regarding his mother. She would marry no man whose family did not welcome her, mused the girl with epirited independence. And Jim knew that. . The old woman’s some- what querulous voice brought her back with a start. “Yes, my boy Jim lives in New York. And he's got engaged down there. I'm going down now to see his girl. 'Pears like as if no one was good enough for Jim. And besides this girl—""- Then she paused, evidently recollecting that her listener was a stranger. Miss Turpbull became conscious of & vague suspicion, a strange doubt. Could it be possible? “We must walt until you meet my mother. I am sure things will come right then,” Jim had said' Some- how she had always imagined that Jim’'s mother disapproved of her and she had resented the fact. She knew nothing of Jim’s family, save that he came from somewhere up State. And he had writ- ten that he was expecting his mother for a visit. - Could it be credible that this woman, ignorant, unlettered, might be Jim's mother? For the moment a quick - distaste made her draw back, then a look at the kindly, faded face with the steadfast blue eyes, awakened a nobler feeling. After au, what were mere ex- ternals worth? Did not beauty of soul count for more than beauty of diction? And Jim loved her! The girl's eyes cbuld produce sports who will tell you that T could strike more blows in ten seconds than any man living could strike in a minute, and these blows would count some, as they were delivered solld- ly while I was square on my feet, so that all the heft of my body was in every one of them. I've ducked plenty of swings in my time which were handed by some fellows who were counted as scientific—but few of them arrived. = There are a lot of good fellows writing for newspapers who never saw me fight and they are not to blame for taking statements of some of the smart ones who would like to make it appear that I didn’t really do anything worth while, and were merely conning the public. But T'm still on the map and good enough to give some of them the laugh. ‘When Mitchell and I get busy perhaps there'll be a calling in of the junk that has been so long banded out. You may bet your pil¢ that I'm going to make the best of my chance and If there isn’t any science in my shape, I'll take my gruel and be glad to get it. When I blew into Chattanooga, Tenn., on my big tour, the story had gone ahead A. M. ot showed a new sympathy as she turned to her companion. “Tell me—" she began. But the sen- tence was never finished. There was a crash, a jar, a sickening suspense as the car wavered. Another moment and the heavy wood crumpled into cardboard. Flung to one side by the force of the im- pact, Emily Turnbull struggled to her knees. The car rodf above her was split open. She was not badly enough hurt to prevent her crawling through that aper- ture to safety. Au her rose cries and groans, The girl shuddered. Her lilacs, fallen beside her, filled the air with their crushed sweetness, and a sudden thought made her start. Jim's mother. The old woman lay pinioned under a seat, senseless from a cL. on her forehead. Emily hesitated. Could she leave her? Yet what good could she achieve by stay- ing? And it*mieant death for both! The piteous shrieks for help were increasing. She could hear a crackle of burning wood—the car was on fire. With a tre- mendous effort Emily attempted to move the heavy seat. Useless. Yet she st- led with i e cruel iron, striving in des- peration to lift it even an inch. The noise of the flames came nearer. The heat was becoming intolerable. one ‘1ast despairing effort, the girl sent her voice ringing out in a wild appeal for n, exhausted, sank fns EBTE R TR save, i cartd Shut her 0 DevIdereit Wes e i g e AR T T QT T 6 N * A QUESTION OF IDENTITY ¥ DAVIS. of us thgt I had dropped out of the party and my part in the show was being faked by an understudy. We didn't pay much attention to the yarn, thinking it would blow itself away, for the man who would undertake to carry out the proposition ‘I was making—of giving any white man $1000 who could stand in front of me four rounds—wasn't easy to get. But— bing!—up comes the chief of police of the city. “See here,” says he, “T get the report that you haven't got the real John L. Sullivan along, and I don’t propose to have the people here swindled by any Yankee tricks.” We tried to explain that T was the real goods, but he was leery of the whole outfit. “You'll have to convince me or the show don’t go on,” was the song he sang, so we let him alone. That night when I stepped on the stage the chief of police came on, too. “T demand that you prove your identity that you are John L. Sullivan, and until you do, nix for the show.” I was tearing mad and had a mind to prove it with a couple of wallops on him. - - NOOSSOOS ST NGRNEN; she dead? The --m Was quite unfamil- iar. Bare white walls met her wondering eyes. A woman seated by the bed where- on she lay rose and smiled down on her. not be frighteped,” said the wom- an in a low, reassuring voice. ‘You are at the Warren House, where they brought you after the accident. A few days’ rest will make you quite strong again. Some men found you, just at the last moment; they heard your call. We peo- ple in the rear cars were not injured,” she continued, “and knowing a litt about nursing, I offered my services. She did not think it necessary to add that the attraction of the unconscious girl's face had somewhat prompted her offer. “Now try to sleep.” But Emily turned white. h“Jim’l mother—the woman with me,” she L 4 te safe also. You were found cling- ing to her dress. You knew her then? She is a relat.ve?” seeing that the girl wished to talk. 3 “I only met her to-day,” responded fl:’. “But she is Jim's mother. Oh, I telegraph to him,” anxiously, “he will be so worried, for he kmew that I to take that train.” woman fetched pencil and paper T uuumc;n; . Then she let her “So you are’Emily Turnbull, the ac- iress?” she asked. Miss Turnbull nodded. “And—and you are sure as to the iden- tity of that women?” pursued her inter- locutor. Her manner conveyed more wrof eyes rest “So “You get auy man in the house to come #n the stage for five minutes, and I'll give him $1000 and show you that I'm Sullivan all right and the only Sullivan.” This caught the house, it satisfied the chief] and the show went on. The chief 1 Afterward found to be a first class trump. Flim-Flammed Into Being an “Ad.” A Chicago drummer let me win 325 from him, at the same time using me to advertise his goods in a most scandal- ous way. It happened in the West. In the smoking-car we were talking of the pleasant fashion in some of the wide- open places of shooting up any man with gall enough to wear a plug hat. “I'd like to see them shoot me up. no matter what kind of a hat I wore,” said I. - “0, I think you'd weaken,” spoke up this drummer, giving mé the dare. “There are some things they dom't let folks do out here, and even you can’t break the rules.” - ko4 than her words and Emily looked trou- bled. “Why—she sald that her son's name was Jim, and that she was going to New York to see his sweetheart—and—and I knew that Jim's riother liyed mear Al- bany,” she stammered confusedly. “I— I thought so.” “And you risked your life to save her on that chance?’ cried the other Im- sank to her knees by mily's “Oh, my dear, my dear!” “Forgive me. How hateful, row-thinded I have been! I Jim's mother. I was bound for on a similar errand. It was a blow, I sea you to understand. Jim, dear? I know he i ROUND LL PATY “You're another,” was my reply. “Now, see here, sald the drummer, “I've got a hat you wouldn't dare wear in the town we are going to (I think it was Dubuque, Iowa). I'll bet you $25 on it."” I flashed my roll to see him crawl, but he was game, and going into the bag- gage car he came back with a gray plug hat and handed it to me. I had Dpever seen one of these before, and it shook me a little when I saw it, but it was up to me. When we reached the town, there was a crowd waliting to ses me, and when I got off the train in my sealskin coat and this white plug hat, a roar went up— the usual roar that I raised everywhere In the West in those days. I wore the hat around all day and to please the drummer had my picture taken In the hat. Nothing happened on account of the hat and the drummer gave up his $25 without & whimper, and asked me to keep the hat “as a tribute to your nerve,” he said. I liked the hat and wore it several weeks on & tour. Two years after the Jrummer hunted me up in Chicago and told me that he gladly gave up the §5 because he saw, during our argument on the train, that if I would wear the hat every sport in the West would want one. He trailed me all the time I wore the hat, used my photographs as an ad, and sold hats as fast as his house could turn. them out. Queer Ideas of Men He Has Knocked Out. T have seen a good many men put down and out, but those I've nursed into naps seemed to take It different from others. One man, a Frenchman, who went against me In Astoria, after lylng In a sleep for ten minutes, got ‘up and ran out of the hall and into a brick wall on the other side of the street, where he put himself out for the second time. Another fellow, whose name I will pass up, came out of his doze saying in a sort of whisper; “He Isn't as big as he looks, hg isn’t as big as he looks; knock his head off, knock his head off!" I suppose he had been saying that over and over during the fight to give him- self courage, and kept It up after the trouble was over. One chap in a Pennsylvania town I slapped with the palm of my glove and settled him that way. When he came out of it, he said to one of his seconds who was holding a sponge soaked with fece water to the back of h neck: “Have the steam pipes busted?” There was such a roaring in his ears, you see. At a private mill in Boston in my early days my opponeht, after getting his, insisted that I had kicked him In the head when he was down, and it was some time afterward that he was con- vinced that a wallop with the fist had done the business for him. “Don’t ever hit another man as hard as you hit me, John,” said Paddy Ryan to me after our fight, “for If you do, you'll kill him.” Mistah Juck Johnson's Balloom Has Gone Up. Mistah Jack Johnson's balloon went up when he failed to put Jack Monroa away in Philadelphia, and if the sun- burnt scrapper ever thought he had a look-in for the big fellow's belt, he must give up the dream. Monros was an accident from the time he got that four-round decision over Jeff, as Jeff showed him later on In two rounds in 'Frisco last summer. The colored brother was lively enough in pasting Monroe, but he hasn't the necessary punch. All the Johnson-Monroe fight goes to show is that white supremacy will continue in the ring as well as out of it. Monroe's defeat of Sharkey when the latter had gone far back. and his défeat of Peter Maher, who never had the heart of a fighter, never made the miner anything better than a second-rater, and if Johnson was unfortunate enough to go up against Ruhlin, Fitz or Gard- ner, he’d let white fighters alone If he cared to preserve his beauty. As T have said before, the negro boxer, while some of him may be pretty good, none of him is as good as gro fighters were kept 5 themselves and not allowed to get their chests inflated by meeting men out of their class. Perhaps this young his name.