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Page 75

"She is greatly and widely admired," I answered, cautiously.

"Any sisters?"

"One."

"You know any more girls?"

"Why, several," I answered. "And a few others."

"Say," said Mack, "tell me one thing--can you hand out the dope to
other girls? Can you chin 'em and make matinee eyes at 'em and
squeeze 'em? You know what I mean. You're just shy when it comes to
this particular dame--the professional beauty--ain't that right ?"

"In a way you have outlined the situation with approximate truth," I
admitted.

"I thought so," said Mack, grimly. "Now, that reminds me of my own
case. I'll tell you about it."

I was indignant, but concealed it. What was this loafer's case or
anybody's case compared with mine? Besides, I had given him a dollar
and ten cents.

"Feel my muscle," said my companion, suddenly, flexing his biceps. I
did so mechanically. The fellows in gyms are always asking you to do
that. His arm was as hard as cast-iron.

"Four years ago," said Mack, "I could lick any man in New York outside
of the professional ring. Your case and mine is just the same. I
come from the West Side--between Thirtieth and Fourteenth--I won't
give the number on the door. I was a scrapper when I was ten, and
when I was twenty no amateur in the city could stand up four rounds
with me. 'S a fact. You know Bill McCarty? No? He managed the
smokers for some of them swell clubs. Well, I knocked out everything
Bill brought up before me. I was a middle-weight, but could train
down to a welter when necessary. I boxed all over the West Side at
bouts and benefits and private entertainments, and was never put out
once.

"But, say, the first time I put my foot in the ring with a
professional I was no more than a canned lobster. I dunno how it was-
-I seemed to lose heart. I guess I got too much imagination. There
was a formality and publieness about it that kind of weakened my
nerve. I never won a fight in the ring. Light-weights and all kinds
of scrubs used to sign up with my manager and then walk up and tap me
on the wrist and see me fall. The minute I seen the crowd and a lot
of gents in evening clothes down in front, and seen a professional
come inside the ropes, I got as weak as ginger-ale.

"Of course, it wasn't long till I couldn't get no backers, and I
didn't have any more chances to fight a professional--or many
amateurs, either. But lemme tell you--I was as good as most men
inside the ring or out. It was just that dumb, dead feeling I had
when I was up against a regular that always done me up.

"Well, sir, after I had got out of the business, I got a mighty grouch
on. I used to go round town licking private citizens and all kinds of
unprofessionals just to please myself. I'd lick cops in dark streets
and car-conductors and cab-drivers and draymen whenever I could start
a row with 'em. It didn't make any difference how big they were, or
how much science they had, I got away with 'em. If I'd only just have
had the confidence in the ring that I had beating up the best men
outside of it, I'd be wearing black pearls and heliotrope silk socks
to-day.

"One evening I was walking along near the Bowery, thinking about
things, when along comes a slumming-party. About six or seven they
was, all in swallowtails, and these silk hats that don't shine. One
of the gang kind of shoves me off the sidewalk. I hadn't had a scrap
in three days, and I just says, 'De-lighted!' and hits him back of the
ear.

"Well, we had it. That Johnnie put up as decent a little fight as
you'd want to see in the moving pictures. It was on a side street,
and no cops around. The other guy had a lot of science, but it only
took me about six minutes to lay him out.

"Some of the swallowtails dragged him up against some steps and began
to fan him. Another one of 'em comes over to me and says:

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 19th Jan 2026, 16:37