The San Francisco call., 1897-03-19
AFTER The
VICTORIOUS
ENCOUNTER
Champion Bob Breaks All
Pugilistic Rules by
Resting.
AT HOME WITH WIFE
AND BABY.
Mansfield Gives a Pen Picture
of the Cornishman's Domes.
tic Happiness.
BOB JR. THE PRIDE OF THE
GREAT FIGHTER.
Fhzimmons Coming Here, and Will
Later Go to New York and Re.
tire From The Ring.
AT HOME WITH WIFE
AND BABY.
BOB JR. THE PRIDE OF THE
GREAT FIGHTER.
Ftz immons Coming Here, and Will
Later Go to New York and Re.
tire From The Ring.

CARSON, New, March 1S-As soon as
the Cornishman left his dressing-room in
the arena after yesterdays battle he es-
corted his wife to their small, dusty, one
horse buggy and drove her home. OF
course, he was pleased at the applause of
the crowd and the cheers that followed
him, but he only waved his cap and
smiled little. He did not appear any
happier than the ordinary man who finds
So bill in the street. He drove away
talking with his wife, who was all smiles
and enthusiasm. There is woman with
the true Spartan spirit. Seeing her in
the carriage with Bob, one could not help
thinking of the day when she will send
her son, Bob FitZsImmons Jr., into the
ring with strict orders not to leave it until
he had done his man. That she was her
husbands best second at the ringside is
already 4 matter of history.
The low rambling white house the Fitz-
simmons family occupies at Cooks ranch
is modes structure. From without it is
an ordinary Nevada cattleman's home,
with n bit OF grass and garden at the door
and hedged by rows of cottonwood trees.
Within the house is the typical home of
the village blacksmith who is making q
fair living from his trade and who has
neither the inclination nor the money Tor
luxuries. The rooms are furnished with
the severest simplicity. They all open
into one another without any intervening
Railways. Fuzsimmons' training has, of
course, given the house a topsy-turVy ap-
pearsnce.
Tie new champion very carefully tied
his horse in honest farmer fashion, helped
his wife ont of the buggy and walked into
I the house with her. A farmer whose red
OK has won the prize for fatness at back
county fair would show more signs of Joy
than this long, Ianky, silent man. The
nursegirl came bustling into the dining
room with Master Bob Fitzsimmons in
her arms. The youngster looks about
eighteen months old.
~Hey, you old stiff,'' cried Fitz. his blue
eyes dancing merrily as he poked a long
freckled finger against the little chaps
body, tickling him in relatively the same
spot where mis- crunching fist had laid
Corbett low less than an hour before. He
kissed his little son and patted him on
the head.
"Hey, is dinner ready?" he asked his
Chinese cook. I'm hungry now."
Down they sat to modest meal, this pair
of Spartans. laughing and chatting as they
talked of the battle. During the after
noon the long-legged man played around
the ranch like a schoolboy on vacation,
romped with the baby and talked to his
wife about the pretty little house they
would buy in New York as soon as they
hxya
little house IN New York is their aim now
that Bob has announced his retirement
from the ring. Supper was at O'Clock,
Shortly after it was finished this farmer
like champion drove to town. He showed
himself in the streets and was gaped at
and pointed out by the crowd. His right
hand was bancaged and his puffed and
swollen lower lip was incased in court
plaster. Otherwise lie looked about as
usual, certainly not in the least distressed.
Fitz soon tired of the noisy town, for
the streets were filed with drunken men
and he was anxious Co get back to his
wife. He could not find Yarrum, his ri.
eantic black dog, and drove home with
out him.
Imagine how this newly made cham
mon spent the evening OF his victory. He
an down in his bedroom, which is the
NrIor OF the house at Cooks ranch, and
played checkers with Dan Hickey, one of
his trainers. There was no champagne
or'drlnking of any kind. Tie north wind
howled through the fringe of the cotton
wood rrees, the wooden house shook
husky A fierce gust assailed it and snow
was flying in an atmosphere which at
noon was hot enough for the gladiators to
fight in nude. save for breechclouts.
o Within doors no one needed the storm.
The little nursegirl was singing young
Fitz TO sleep, Mrs. Fitzsimmons was here
and there about the room, singing and
stopping occasionally to pat the pink,
sunburned baldhead of her husband, and
the pugiIist himself was bent over the
checkerboard fighting Hickey with care
full moves and as much fervor as he had
shown in fighting Corbett.
When the lanky man had won his game
he marched up to the small black organ,
which ornaments the parlor,. and began
G to sing. Mrs. Fitzsim m ons played accom-
paniment. The tall pugiiist's voice is not
the most melodious thing in the world,
but the enthusiasm of his singing is some
thing to wonder at. Fitzsimmons sang
that popular and pathetic ballad, Just
Tell En- That You Saw Me-" He i'm
proved it somewhat by changing the Sec
ond fine TO And that Knocked him OUT
Put he soon tired of this and began to
-4ng q hymn. Every BODY in the house
nut the sleeping baby and the Chinese
Cook joined in this. Trainer Jack Stelz-
ner's singing was especially robust.
iwinkling like the points of an arc. He
was gamboling about the room as play
inlly as a young calf, and with his APP
piosching knees somewhat suggesting
.hat cheerful animals legs. Suddenly he
pesan to sing song that had been COM