PRIZE FIGHTS AND MINING PROMOTION
For a fortnight there was a lull in news of sensatorial gold discoveries, but the approaching Gans-Nelson fight, which was arranged to be held in Goldfield on Labor Day, September 3, furnished sufficient exciting reading matter for the newspapers throughout the land to keep the Goldfield news pot boiling. The Sullivan Trust Company had guaranteed the promoters of the fight against loss to the extent of $10,000, and other camp interests put up $50,000 more. Gans, the fighter, was without funds to put up his forfeit and make the match, and the Sullivan Trust Company had also advanced the money for that purpose. Mr. Sullivan became Gans' manager. When Gans arrived in town Mr. Sullivan interviewed him to this effect:
"Gans, if you lose this fight they'll kill you here in Goldfield; they'll think you laid down. I and my friends are going to bet a ton of money on you, and you must win."
Gans promised he would do his best.
"Tex" Rickard and his friends wagered on Nelson. The cashier of the Sullivan Trust Company was instructed to cover all the money that any one wanted to bet at odds of 10 to 8 and 10 to 7 on Gans, we taking the long end. A sign was hung in the window reading: "A large sum of money has been placed with us to wager on Gans. Nelson money promptly covered inside." Mr. Sullivan was in his glory. Prize-fighting suited his tastes better than high finance, and he was as busy as a one-armed paper-hanger with the itch.
An argument arose about who should referee the fight. "Tex" Rickard nominated George Siler, of Chicago, and Battling Nelson promptly O.K.'d the selection. Mr. Sullivan openly objected. He thought it good strategy. He sent for the newspaper men and gave out an interview in which he declared that Mr. Siler was prejudiced against Gans because he was a negro, and he did not believe Mr. Siler would give Gans a square deal.
"Rice," whispered Sullivan after the newspaper men left the office, "I am four-flushing about that race-prejudice yarn, but it won't do any harm. Siler needs the job. He's broke and I'll make him eat out of my hand before I'll agree to let him referee the fight. They've already invited Siler to come here, and I won't be able to get another referee, but I'll beat them at their own game. When Siler gets here I'll thrash matters out with him and agree to his selection, but first I want him to know who's boss."
Mr. Siler arrived. An hour later he was closeted with Mr. Sullivan in one of the back rooms of the trust company offices. The dialogue which ensued was substantially as follows:
Mr. Siler. You've got me dead wrong, Sullivan. I want to referee this fight, and I want you to withdraw your objections.
Mr. Sullivan. Well, I've heard from sources which I can't tell you anything about that you don't like Gans, and I can't stand for you.
Mr. Siler. I need this fight, and I've come all the way from Chicago in the expectation of refereeing it. I couldn't give Gans the worst of it if I wanted to. He is a clean fighter and I would not have an excuse.
Mr. Sullivan. Gans is a clean fighter, but Nelson isn't; he uses dirty tactics and he is a fouler for fair.
Mr. Siler. If he does any fouling in this fight I'll make him quit or declare him out.
Mr. Sullivan. What guarantee have I got that you won't give Gans the worst of it?
Mr. Siler. Well, I'll tell you, Sullivan, if you withdraw your objections I'll guarantee you that I'll be this fair. If Nelson uses foul tactics, or if he don't, I'll show my fairness to Gans by giving him the benefit of every doubt. Now, will that satisfy you?
Mr. Sullivan. Yes, it'll satisfy me, but, remember, if you don't keep your word you'll have just as much chance of getting out of this town alive as Gans will have if he lays down! You understand?
Mr. Siler. Yes.
On the afternoon of the fight the Sullivan Trust Company cast accounts and found that it had wagered $45,000 on Gans against a total of $32,500 put up by the followers of Nelson.
Mr. Sullivan, after talking it over with me, had accepted the honorary position of announcer at the ringside. Though not of aristocratic mien, "Larry" was of fine physique, with a bold, bluff countenance, and I felt confident that his cordial manner would appeal to that Far Western assemblage.
Just before the prize-fighters entered the ring, "Larry" jumped into the arena. Standing above the mass of moving heads and holding up both hands, he hailed the great crowd thus:
"Gentlemen, we are assembled in this grand areno to witness a square fight. This fight is held under the auspices of 'Tex' Rickard, a man of great accumulations——"
"Larry" did not get much farther. The audience laughed, and then jeered and hooted until it became hoarse. His words were drowned in the tempest of derision. I was informed by friends who were close to the ringside that he went on in the same rambling way for a few minutes more, but I can't testify to that fact from my own knowledge because "acclumuations" and "areno" overcame me and I stopped up my ears.
The fight progressed for twenty rounds or more, when I began to doubt the ability of Gans to win. Mr. Sullivan had a commissioner at the ringside, who, up to this time, had been betting anybody and everybody all the 10 to 6 that was wanted against Nelson. I hailed Mr. Sullivan at the ringside.
"This doesn't look like the cinch for Gans you said it would be," I whispered.
"Wait a minute," Mr. Sullivan replied, "I'll go to Gans' corner as soon as this round is over and find out what's doing with him."
Mr. Sullivan went over to Gans' corner and came back.
"Gans says he can't win this fight, but he won't lose. He's a good ring-general and he'll pull us out. Don't bet any more money. I'm going to stay close to the ringside. Watch close."
It was apparent during the next ten rounds that Gans was availing himself of every opportunity to impress upon the audience that Nelson was inclined to use dirty fighting tactics, and soon Nelson was being hooted for foul fighting. Gans, on the other hand, appeared to be fighting fair and like a gentleman. Soon it was evident that Gans had won the sympathy and favor of the audience.
The fight had continued through the fortieth round, when Mr. Sullivan again repaired to Gans' corner and held another animated whispered conversation with him.
In the forty-second round Gans of a sudden went down, rolled over and, holding his hand under his belt, let out a yell of anguish that indicated to the excited multitude that Nelson had fouled him frightfully.
In another instant Mr. Sullivan had clambered into the ring. Confusion reigned. The audience was on its feet. Pushing his fist into the referee's face, Mr. Sullivan cried: "Now, Siler, you saw that foul, didn't you? It's a foul, isn't it? Gans wins, doesn't he?"
All of this happened quick as a flash. Mr. Siler, pale as a ghost, whispered something inaudibly.
Mr. Sullivan, turning to the assemblage and raising both arms to the skies, yelled:
"Gentlemen, the referee declares Gans the winner on a foul!"
The audience acclaimed his decision with salvos of applause. There did not appear to be a man in the crowd who doubted a foul had been committed, although Nelson at once protested his innocence.
Next day Mr. Sullivan told me that in or near the twenty-fourth round Gans had broken his wrist and knew he could not win the fight by a knockout. He also said that Gans went down in the forty-second round in order to save the day.
"I won that fight," said Mr. Sullivan. "I told Gans while he was in his corner after the fortieth round that if he lost he would be laying down on his friends, that he had the audience with him, and that it was time to take advantage of Nelson's foul tactics."
This was my first experience in prize-fighting, and my last. My sympathies were, however, with the winner. Gans' tactics throughout up to the last round were gentlemanly and those of Nelson unfair. Even the partisans of Nelson who had wagered on him agreed after the fight that the battle put up by the negro up to the forty-second round was a white man's fight and he was entitled to win.
Nelson had been guilty of foul tactics in almost every round, but the probabilities are that Gans was not disabled by a foul blow in the forty-second round and that he took advantage of the sentiment in his favor, which had been created by his manly battle up to that time, to go down at a psychological moment.
I saw Mr. Siler after the contest, and he appeared pleased that his decision was so well received, but he assured me that if he was invited to referee another bout in any mining camp he would decline the job.
The Sullivan Trust Company, of course, won a big bet on the result, but it lost a bigger one as an outcome of the battle on the very next day. The impression created by Announcer Sullivan's attempt to reach lofty flights of eloquence in his speech to the fight-audience was bad for the trust company, and it required the use of over $100,000 on the day following to meet the flood of selling orders in Sullivan stocks which poured into the San Francisco Stock Exchange.