San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1924-03-16
Edgren Meets Famous
Sporting Characters Of
Other Days at Track.
TOM SHARKEY HAPPY
Hasn't Any Real Money But
Lives High on Three
Dollars a Day.
BY ROBERT EDGREN.

You meet Frank Cavan OF New 10rf
IN San Diego and he tells you about
Tia Juana.
"Yeh, I've been at Monte Carlo and
all those European gambling heavens
and ! never seen anything like Tia
Juana-anywhere. l mean the places
where they run the games-just out
side the race track enclosure. All these
birds from Iowa and Kansas that come
down from their Los Angeles homes
and the fasteners who drift down ia
sen the races, the globe trotters who
fellow excitement. all crazy to gel
in and play the wheel, bet the cases
or shoot craps.
They climb over EACH other to get
near the tables-honest. They pack in
there so tight the back rows have 10
pass their money over the shoulders
Of the rows in front and holler to
somebody to get it down for them. II
goes on in the afternoon even during
the races-big crowds all the time
but from 6 O'Clock to midnight it's a
riot. Nothing like it in the world
nowhere"
stopped in San Diego a day on a
western trip, and went on down to
III. Juana. The casinos were going
full blast. Took a look inside and
got twenty feet from the doors when
/ ran up against the mob, packed in
around the tables just as Frank de-
scribed. Far as / could see everybody
must have been betting silver dollars.
The tables were stacked with silver
until the floors sagged.
And This Was Afternoon.
You could hear the chink. clink.
clank of the iron men rolling and
bounding across the board, the whir
of the wheels, the clatter the little
rolling balls, the chant Of the attend
ants calling out winning or losing
numbers, and crash every now and
then as IL the money was coming in
so fast that they had to open trap
door and shovel il into the cellar. But
there was little glitter and glan1or. No
diamonds and pearsl on the Iowans
and Kansans from Los Angeles. No
palatial fittings. Smoke, dust, burnt
matches, torn papers, hot dogs, excited
people pushing each other around TO
get near enough to put q silver dollar
on one OF a hundred wheels. This was
afternoon. At night, they say, it's diff
ferent. Big money gambling then.
thousands instead Of dollars.
I went along to the race track. .
Looked like old times at Sheepshead
BAY or Graves End or Belmont Park:
Under the grandstand were rows OF
bookmakers. each on a raised plat
form, chalking and rubbing odds, long
lines moving up to place bets. Ma
hogany bar all along one wall. regu-
lar old-time bottles along the shelves
behind 1t, draft beer, crowds with feet
on the brass bar rail. Visitors from
the states sampling tequila. the Next
can liquid lightning distilled from cac-
Then a shout They're off" and
the crowd rushes for the 'lawn" in
front of the grandstand-just as at
Sbeepshead or Belmont-and the book
les yank down their states and stop
taking bets.
Outside, buildings just as at any
old-time eastern race track. Horses
and iockies, bright colors, stands filled
with people who might have stepned
right over from Sheepheads or Bel
mont Park of the old days. Except
that there is a sprinkling of Stetson-
hated westerners from Montana. Wy
oming and Texas and a few Mexicans
in ali sorts of costumes. Down along
the front rail are more bookies, in
their stands. Between races they are
besieged by long lines OF bettors. men
and women. The women bet openly
out here. They are barred from the
books and mutuels under the stands
where the long bar is.
Jim Coffroth, promoter of Tia Juana
racing, strolls from the club house
porch. In the old days they called
him sunny Jim" because when he
was a fight promoter in San Francisco
he never drew a rainy day for an out,
door bout.
"Can you beat this?" asked Sunny
Jim. waving his hand at the pale tur-
ouoise blue sky. when you came by
here six years ago we had a rainy
day and ] don't think it's rained since.
Not this year. anyway. Every day Just
like this. Some racing weather, isn't
is?"
Sunny Jim goes somewhere to see
about something. Perhaps a cocktail.
Over beyond, where the crowd thins
a little. I see a man. back turned to-
ward me, with shoulders yard wide,
A bullying neck, and ears I'd know
anywhere. Tom Sharkey. who fought
Jeffries, Fitzsimmons, all the great
men of a quarter-century ago. Tom
turned with a grin. Except for lit
tie gray hair over the ears he looked
iu about the way he did when he
fought Jeffries at Coney Island.
.Yeh. doing fine" grinned Tom. II
am holding down a track job. Max
ing a living. l don't need much. I'm
happier than when had couple of
hundred thousand dollars. Cost me
IS a day to live like king down here
and the rest is velvet. Wait-I got to
attend to something. Got a winner
In each race today.
Hears the Kid Is Married.
There's Baron Long over there. Kid
Mccoy there talking to him. Yeh-
the old Kid. Looks just as good as
when he was fighting and hear he
was married again last week-or was
il two weeks ago? forget" Sharkey
grinned.
II l. l.