The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1892-09-08
For He Did with Sullivan Much as lie Pleased
Seemingly Raining Blows on the Stom-
ach and Head at Will
He Came Out Without Scratch, While
John Was Badly Bruised.
Bloody from His Wounds and So Nearly Un-
conscious that He Failed to Rally Until
Long After lie Was Counted Ont
JOHNS BIrTEREsT HOUR.

JOHNS BITTEREST HOUR.
He Sees Himself Dethroned rs King OF Pu-
giiists and Corbett Installed.
NEW ORLEANS. Sept. Tt had como at
last-the bitterest hour of John l.. Sulli-
vans life.
How often he had heard those maddened
howls of men frantic with joy over q great
triumph and Lad raised his head proudly
to acknowledge the homage thus paid him.
But now he could not raise his head; the
farIng. dazzling lights whirled wildly
about him and he seemed to be in the vortex
of q vast whirlpool lined with shreking 2
humanity and streaked and spangled with
dancing lights. dazzling and binding as
the sun at MONDAY. And those dcafening
shouts that smote upon his ear as though
they would drown the roar of Niagara
why were they so harsh hateful and dis
cordanti Why could he not stand up and
at least wave his hand to his thousands of
worshipers as he had done 80 Ofteni He
turns to raise his head. What is this that
touches his hot. steaming facet Blood
stained sand. The sand of the ring
scsked with blood and he, the winner
of hundred battles lying prone
and helpless upon 1t. Close beside him,
in spite of the shrieking and bowling
crowd outside, he hears the words "seven,
eight. nine-out." And then the loud
twanR of the gong tells that the battle Is
over; and as his dazzled. blinded senses are
gradually restored. John L. Sullivan tastes
for the first time in his long and brilliant
career the wormwood and gall of defeat.
To the old-time gladiators defeat brought
death, and the neareast approach to their
modern prototype may have wished it had
been SO with him. Who shall tell the bit
terness that came to Sullivan during those
few moments OF returning consciousness,
when he awoke from that binding, trou bled
dream, In which the smallest fractions of
seconds dragged themselves into hours, to
learn that he had lost In those few brief
moments all that he had priced in lifes His
unexam plod repute rs boxer had been all
the world to him. He wasvain Of it; nay,
he gloried in 1t. This one fight was to have
been his last. He knew well that he could
not 60 on forever knocking out the strong
est and most skillful of boxers; his reputa-
tion after he had defeated Kilrain was all
that he had desired to make 1t, but the
chance of winning such splendid purse
had temped him to enter the ring
once more: not for glory, for he was
acknowledged champion of champions.
but his princely extravagance in squan-
dering money upon his friends had left
him in such q condition financially that
the chance of winning S35, 900 BY one fight
was one which he could ill afford to disre-
gard. 1t was only the tortures of training g
that had made him hesitate. The thought
of defeat had never for q moment entered
his head. He had never recognized such q
possibility.
HIS NAME IS DENNIS NOW.
What then could have been the feeling
of utter desolation and hopeless ruin that
came to him when returning consciousness
brought to him a realization of his posi-
tion3 The long, aud to him terrible, mar
tyrdom he had suffered in training had
been all for nothing and worse than moth
ing. That princely sum he had
hoped to win was now forever be-
yond his reach. and with it had
gone his name and fame as the
champion of champions. Little boys as
they played In the street would no longer
speak of him as the greetest of men; all th o
thousand and one little tributes that had
been won't to tickle his vanity w ere for
Sullivan no more. There would be q new
household word from Maine to California.
and from Puget sound to the most south
ernly point of Florida, and that word
would be "Corbett" Even men upon
whom he had squandered hundreds and
thousands when he was in his glory
would now forget him and fawn upon Cor
bett. Even his business schemes would be
marred or ruined, for who would care
for j. l.. s. in new play when J. l..
was no longer the champion, but a
defeated pugilist In the decadence of his
career; and this was to be the end of ca
reer that John l.. Sullivan had always
looked upon as the brightest of the cent
ury. From being the man whose name had
been the chief attraction for an audience,
which 1t had cost more than n quarter of u
million TO assemble, he had suddenly
fallen 10 the place of a defeated pugilist.
In the bright days that were gone the
newspapers had exasperated him By exag-
Reratipg his freaks of dissi IA lion; now the
newspapers would pay no attention 20 his
excesses-t they would Leave HIM to the pO-
lice and the patrol wagon. should be drink
too much.
And yet, what was Sullivan that he
should escape the fate that had ovcrtaken
nearly all OF the great prize hghters, John