The Irish standard., 1895-06-15
BOSTON ( CH NIPPON
INTERVIEW WITH THE GREAT rue.


Tie Always Went into Fight with : Feel.
ing q oempists Gem
!. .,.s.. fidsnos. ..ss..s
The last blow from Corbett's hard fist
that rested ON the iron jaw Of John l..
Sullivan In the arena at New Orleans
that hot autumn night in 1892 found an
echo Of sorrow in this city that. has not
ceased to reverberate these three sad
years, says the. Boston Globe.
For JOHN H.. Sullivan, the greatest
fighter with the fists that the world ever
has known, was born in Boston; and
when that giant frame, whose youthful
strength thrived and waxed great on
the rich winds that sweep this town
from the eternal seas, crumbled under
the rapier-like thrusts and darts OF the
1.-THE and long-limbed boy from Cali
fornia and fell to the floor the senseless
figure Of what had been the champion
Of the world for l2 eventful years, there
seemed to every Bostonian Of sporting
blood personal humiliation and grief
in that terrible fall.
For John l.. Sullivan was great man
whose like. perhaps, we shall not look
re qoI,lNA sanl4!A asoQL ulB5u uodu
ways have been associated with true
greatness courage and strength, power
to do and endure-were his in abundant
measure. And there is something almost
grand in human nature which gives the
lie to the sad and cynical lines that
are quoted at the top Of this column;
for the pictures of greatPmen which
never are, forgotten are not those that
paint them in the hour of victory with
beams Of glory playing on their brows,
but those that show them, conquered
but not crushed, when tickle fortune
has withdrawn her favors. And these
are the pictures which the world cher
ishes with undying tenderness.
Belisarius begging bread in the streets
through which he had passed lau-
relied victor, Is a dearer object to the
memory of mankind than the Byzan-
tine general at the head of his throng-
ing troops Marius alone in prison, the
N,lmidian king at the wheels of the
triumphant Romans chariot, Napoleon
on the rock of st. Helena-these are
scenes which invoke at once the tender
est and the strongest emotions Of men.
The impatient reader hurries through
the story Of battles to linger over the
distressing tale Of Bonaparte's solitude
in exile, and the man who thinks Of
John L. Sullivan, the champion, cares
less for the story of his career than for
the account of his life as it is lived to-
clay when the wreath that crowned him
has been plucked from his gray head,
and he has come back to his native
town to look into eyes that smiled ap-
prevail on him the first time he ever
donned the glove That punched for him
wide hole into the treasury Of the
worlds rewards.
He sat the othef day in the cafe Of a
little hotel on Washington street away
uptown He was as far back in the
shadow of the room as he could get,
and his only companion was man who
had been among his earliest friends in
Boston. He was talking in low, i'm
pressive tones to the man beside him,
speaking through one side Of his mouth
in the old familiar way, and looking up
from under his drawn brows with sug-
gestion in his eyes Of that peculiar
CLEAN which is said to have had sim
gularly disappearing influence over his
antagonists in the days Of his youthful
proWess. -
He. had grown very heavy, and when
he arose to greet the newspaper man who
serves here as chronicler of that days
episodes it was seen that his body from
the waist up was out of all proportion to
those legs which always have been criti-
cised as the weak feature Of an otherwise
perfect form. He smiled grimly as he
extended huge red hand which showed
the lived scars of the burns that he re-
ceiYed not long ago in saving from death
a woman whose clothes were af1ame. His
voice was. the same deep bass, and when
he sniled!a row of fine white teeth show
ed between; his shaver lips He wore q
silk hat, bopn almost to the top with
Grape, and his clothes manifestly were
purchased before the fashions Of this year
had been planned. as
II Yetshe looked we'll and unsubdued, and
when he had talked few minutes his
speech showed that he has not yet aban-
doned hope, but that on the contrary he
cherishes a serene faith in his ability to
win back the laurels that he lost at New
Orleans.
When he was asked whether he would
ever fight again he answered confidently
~ certainly Will 20 know l am not the
Sullivan Of '83, bit haven't begun to be-
lieve that. I. am gone by. ! never could
fght*&a battle again without training, or
With only q few weeks training, as I
used to do. but !, am as sure Of one thing
in this world as any man can be, and that
is that / can go into training for eight
months, from September until April, and
then fight the battle Of my life. / will be
as strong as / ever was, and almost as
quick quick enough and strong enough,
any way, to win. i am going to fight once
more aud win; I am going to be; champion
again!' III. 5sss e ..s
Is It IS impossible to picture the low, easy,
determined tone in which these words
were uttered, . tone entirely devoid Of any
boastfilI note, but strong and clear aud ir-
resIstibly cony cling, although the mo-
menX after the words were heard a man
might be ready to abandon all hope OF
their fu1f1Hnant 4ys;a Il. IS, H *