New Britain herald., 1918-04-15

(CnnVTiplT 19lSr 6y King fSdLul CD
 Syndicate, Inc.)
 Editors Note: This is the 49th ard final chapter of a series of ar- ticles which MT. Corbett is writing on John l.. As I Knew Him.")
 My last meeting with John l.. Sul- livan is one that I never shall forget because it was the meeting that bridged the chasm that had divided us ever since that day in New Or leans; it was the day that made us friends at last.
 John l.. went to New York in March 1918 to serve as a reporter for one of the press associations at the Jess Willard Frank Moran match. The western warrior arrived in town a day or so before the contest. On the morning of the day that the fight took place, a mutual friend came to and said:
 Jim, John L. Is up at the Cumber- land Hotel. Why don't you go up and see him? It's about time for you fel- lows to yet bygones be bygones."
 I welcomed such an opportunity. Through many years I had tried in various ways to change John L,'s feeling toward me. Somehow or other he never fully forgave me for JAG A\cW oT1ednS DaCLtS. 1 ntld won it fairly and squarely and John L. himself admitted 1t. But, just the same, the very fact that he had gone down to defeat before made it impossible for him to feel kindly toward me.
 So, with the hope in my heart that the feeling John L. had held toward me for nearly 25 years might have dimmed through passing time, ! jumped into a taxi, went up to John LIS hotel and had the clerk announce that I was downstairs waiting to see $ him.
 Tn a second the clerk said to me:
 'Mr. Sullivan wants you to como \ up to his room right away" It wasn't necessary for me to rap # to gain entrance. John L. had opened II the door and was standing in the hallway ready to greet me. That very fact, coupled with a smile on his face, made me feel that all the ran- cor John l.. had felt for me had been dispelled; that, at last, he was willing to greet me as a friend.
 How are you, Jim % exclaimed John L., pushing out his mighty right hand and almost pulling me across the threshold into his room.
 For a time we discussed common places-and the fight that was to be staged that night. John L. was strong for Moran. While I felt sure that Willard would win. A good na- tured argument followed. At last there came a pause. John L. looked out of the window for a few seconds. then turned to me, got up from his chair, walked over put his left hand on my shoulder and extended his right:
 Here you are, Jin1,-take this: 1et's shake and be friends
 jumped from my chair and wrung the hand of Sullivan. Before I could speak John L., still holding my hand, said:
 Jim, it hurt me an awful lot to be beaten down there in New Orleans. I had lot of pride about my fighting ability and I always felt that no man could beat me. You came along and you whipped me without letting me and really hard punch. I certainly was sore about it. simply couldn't : get rid of that feeling for years. But ately I have been thinking that it sn't fair for me to feel that way. And I'm through.
 My own feelings while John L. was alking are hard to describe. If there was one mans friendship that I had Evanted it was that of Sullivan. Yet Tor more than twenty years it had been denied me. had idolized Sul- ivan from the days of my boyhood Rnd even after that New Orleans bat le I still regarded him as one of the host remarkable fighters that ever ived He had been a king-ard he vas still an idol of mine. But al- ways he had looked upon me as one f his bitterest enemies merely te- ause had defeated him in 1892. So, ne can see what it meant to me vhen at last, John L. extended to he the hand of friendship.
 "I've wanted you for 8 friend all ny life, John,' I said to him. Now hat you offer me that friendship 1t makes me happier than I can ex- kress.''
 "That's all right Jim, I'm glad to ear vou say that" answered John l.. A lot of us make mistakes, One of nine has been to feel unk1ndly to- yard you through all these years. But ow all that is past.
 1v last sight of John l.. was that iqbt March 25, 1916. As prelim- narz, to the fistic clash between NIl- rd and Moran, the champions who [ere at the ringsidc were introduced
 tta crowd. Bob Fitzsimmons vas htroduced; so was l. But the cheerH '. the freckled warrior and the l,ears for me but whispers in com- arison with the mighty tumult that raised when the gray-haired Sul- ,-on climbed through the ropes rodieo, SclI2rc Garden rumbled ana ,1,,derod with wild cheers. Nearly 1l| a,1,arfe1 of q century had passed