The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1904-02-03
John L. Sullivan Is Still Trifiing
With Booze.
Rounds Up the Gotham Saloons
Treating All Present.
EVERYONE MUST DRINK
The Once Terrible PugiIist
Weighs $50 Pounds.
But Is Getting Feeble and Slow
in Moving About.

New York, Feb. 3.-John L. Sullivan,
that Boston big fellow, who was once
the pride of the American prize ring,
is knocking about New York these
days, causing just as much consterna-
ton among the barkeepers and habitues
Of the various drinkeries which he
visits as he did in the old days when
he was the real thing in the ffstic
article. John L. is getting old, and he
is beginning to show the effects of the
work of old Father Time upon that
erstwhile magnificent physique.
The big man now finds is quite an
effort to move around, so much super
f1uous weight does he carry, and as a
result his breathing is done with dlfh-
Guilty that is painful to listen to. SulH-
vans hair is white. and his face shows
wrinkles, the inevitable sign of old age
For months at a time John L. remains
perched upon seat upon the water
wagon; then he cuts loose and starts
out TO do things with all that dash and
devil-may- careism that used to mark
the sprees of John LIS early career. He
goes about from saloon to saloon roar
ing like a lion, ordering drinks for
every person in sight-none dare re-
fuse. He spends his money like the
prOVerbiaI drunken sailor while it lasts,
and then travels out the remainder OF
his spree on the memories of ye olden
DAYS.
Some OF the modern saloonists of
Gotham refuse to stand for Johns pa
troniZing visits at times when his
purse is empty, and he frequently gets
cool reception in these places, with an
invitation to move on. The oId-timers,
the men who knew Sullivan in the days
of his prosperity, are, as rule, induIg-
ent with him, and in their places he
just about orders what he pleases, has
it put ION ice,'' probably never to think
of it again. Tom ORourke is one of
the New York hotel keepers whom old
John visits regularly. Tom being one
away back in boyhood days, treats the
erStWhile terror of the ring with every
consideration until he becomes noisy
and abusive and obnoxious to the pa
irons of the Delavan.
At such times Tom takes John L.
gently but firmly by the arm, and. es-
cortlng him to the door. tells him that
he must leave. O'Rourke's usual song
to the big fellow is: John, you must
go now. for 1 can't afford to have my
customers chased out by your carry
ing on. Come around when you are
sober and decent and you can have
anything you want And strange as
it may appear. John L. becomes as
meek as lamb and stammering as he
moves: 'AlI right, Tom, you white
headed old lobster. I'm going. Slong,
Tom. S'long, you old slob." And the
big fellow waddles off, whistling for a
caA-
The writer saw Sullivan in New York
last week. He must weigh $50 pounds,
and walks along as though he had a
beer key fastened on in front in lieu of
a stomach
He bears very slight resemblance to
the John l. Sullivan who toured the
country less than twenty years ago
Offering $1,000 to the man who could
stand before him for the brief space of
four rounds. Still, the old warrior is
easily recognized. A man not having
seen John L. in a score of years would
know him at once on hearing one of
those dreadful growls such as he
belches forth when his ire is aroused or
when he is doing the rounds on one of
his jamborees- Once heard, the Sulli-
van roar is never forgotten.