The Birmingham age-herald., 1924-06-29
New York. June 28.
A CHAMPION THAT WAS

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 It was in the wings of tawdry bur lesque theater. Out on the stage the "ladies of the chorus" were going through their paces, smirking at bald occupants of the front row. Now and then the fat prina donna would Head" song, her voice as we'll as her figure giving evidence of having seen better days. Two knockabout comedians, an Irishman and a Hebrew, were doing at intervals the old, old slapstick comedy, the sort of comedy that flourished in Shakespeare's day and goes back into the mists of the past, having sprung, no doubt, from the first rude gambols of the cave man, whereon his neighbors looked with boisterous approval. Waves of music swept over the footlights from the orchestra and reached the far cor ners of the theater, "back stage" scat tering syncopated notes in all direc- tions. Jazz as we know it had not yet become the fashion, but there was "rag- time" in plenty and the burlesque com panies made liberal use of it to enter tain their patrons.
 Sitting on battered chair only few feet from the simulated revelry on the stage, was an old man with gray hair. His enormous shoulders we're slouched | forward; his hands rested on his knees. The muscles rose formidably on a pair of arms that had been the admiration of two continents and had earned for their possessor international fame. The head of the old gladiator was bowed i; there was an air about him of one who felt that he had fallen from high es- tste upon evil times, the glory that was his departed, along with money spent ] act 4 bo de crowds that used to swarm about him everywhere he went. This was John L. Sullivan, formerly champion heavy weight pugilist of the world, and the idol of a continent. For ten years he stood supreme, fighting all corners, ask ing and giving no quarter; doing more fighting in a month or two than some of the highly commercialized champions of the present day do in years of posturing before the public. This was the man who for 75 rounds beneath blazing sun battled Jake Kilrain at Richburg, Mis- sissippi, one of the greatest fights in the history of pugilism.
 His own easy habits and the parasites who swarmed about him when he was at the height of his fame, had reduced Sullivan to the necessity of travelling about the country with a.cheap burlesque show and giving sparring exhibitions to earn his bread. His sparring partner was Jake Kilrain, another pathetic fig ure, who stood not far away, leaning thoughtfully against the brick wall that shut in the rear part of the stage. Xiii rain, of course, had never been the eel ebrity that Sullivan was, nor had he ever earned as much money, but he, too, was in straitened circumstances. To Sul- livan, the chasm between his past and present was far wider than in the case of his old opponent of the ring Sullivan had gone about the country like con- queror; the best in the land was none too good for the mighty John |"
 | What were the thoughts of the old man as he sat with his eyes on the floor, occasionally grunting or making a guttural reply when some one ad- dressed a remark to him? Was he thinking of his former glory? Most probably his thoughts were on the past. ] Certainly there was nothing in the shabby theater where he was to arouse ! his interest, while the future was du- bious, indeed. When their cue came, the two old men, their bulky figures, in spite of age and corpulency, still show ing the development of athletes, walked | upon the stage, spared uesulCoI round or two, bowed stiffly and retired to their. dressing room.
 Fate was kinder to Sullivan than to many other pugilists whose latter years were lean indeed. He married a Mas sachusetts widow who had a little prop erty, renounced the habit to which he attributed his defeat by Corbett in New Orleans and, what with featuring on the evils of intemperance sna X sking,,;vau- deville tours, intersp the AGS