Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-12-19

champion, Dick Burge.
AS TOLD TO T.. p. RUCKER.
Just how much the fearful grind Of
my second battle with Joe Walcott
had taken out of me l realized in my
next fight with Wilmington Jack"
Daily at Cleveland.
Daly's real name was Cornelius 7.
Moriarity He was almost a "Phila-
delphia lightweight" in size, although
he made 1877 for me. He was four
inches taller than l. a muscular, fast,
rugged boxer.
Liquor, as we'll as the punishment
of the Walcott battle, had much to do
with cutting short my fighting career.
Many a row | had with my brother
Billy over my love for drink.
What am I going to do with you?"
he would bawl at me in anger, when
he found me sloughing the booze,
when I should have been training.
Must l have you thrown in Jail to
keep you sober"
I hasten to add that for years. now,
have not touched one drop of intoXi-
cants, and / never will again. It's
a game no one can beat. and any one
is Il sucker W IL IL. booAe COSl IRE
a fortune.
Daily and I met in 1898 had split
with my old manager, Sam F'itzpat-
rick. and he was in Daly's corner. He
had trained Jack for the fight and was
there to show him how to beat me.
kid Mccoy was the referee.
OId-time Bounce Gone.
l fought a Estless sort of scrap. I
simply was not there with the old
time bounce and iron vigor. There
was no spring in my legs and my
timing was off. The minutes rest be-
tween rounds seemed far too short for
the first time in my life. Several
times l tried to get going, but it was
no use.
Still, I gave DAILY plenty of punish
ment. He was badly hurt at times. l
also took plenty. The decision was
rightly a draw at the end of 20
rounds
A few weeks later met DAILY again
at Philadelphia for six rounds. There
was no decision. Again the result
was about even.
I had to admit I was no longer the
Saginaw terror, a tireless man of steel.
I began drinking harder than ever.
Then came my first meeting with
smart Frank Erne, at Coney Island,
in September, 1898. Erne was a grace
full boxer, crafty ringster and he
could sock. Against him, 1 found my
self, once more, unable to strike my
natural pace. The best I could do was
to make it draw after 20 rounds.
By this time some of my readers
may have found themselves wondering
why l never met Joe Cans, the great
Baltimore colored lightweight. The
fact is that Cans refused to meet me.
This has never been printed before.
And l want to say 1 was glad he didn't
care to fight me.
After the Erne fight I went home
to Saginaw and left Billy in the East.
He got back home a week later and
told me of stopping over in Pitts
burgh, where he met AL Herford,
manager of Cans. He said they dis
cussed a match between Cans and me.
Let Cans alone" / shouted. There
are plenty of white boys around for
me to fight"
Billy suddenly cut in on my
protests.
Quit your raving." he growled
Cans refused to meet you"
Cans would have taken the cham
pionship from me at that time had he
Known my condition, but apparently
my victories over Walcott and Dick
Burge had awed him.
In 1906 Cans and met for three
round boxing exhibition in Detroit at
the Gayety Theater. OF his mar
velous SKILL plenty has been written.
Cans was a crafty ringster and
gentlemanly fellow. / don't want 10
take any glory away from him, but I
can't help feeling there has been a
tendency to overrate him.
At the risk of seeming ungenerous
to one who is dead, / venture the opin-
ion that Cans was not the equal Of