Читать книгу Jacobs Beach. The Mob, the Garden and the Golden Age of Boxing онлайн

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Characterizing Rickard as “a great gentleman” stretched the sinews of old Joe's irony cells. Only three years earlier Tex had to draw on every smart friend he had, from politicians to lawyers, to extract himself from messy allegations that he'd pestered young girls. Old Joe soldiered on nevertheless. You could almost hear the violins from some celestial eyrie as he wound up: “Goodbye then, old temple, farewell to thee, oh Goddess Diana standing on your tower. Goodnight all . . . until we meet again!”

Cue thunderous reception—and on with the motley.

The closer that summer's night of 1925 brought together Johnny “The Scotch Wop” Dundee (he was born in Sciacca, Sicily, and grew up in New York as Giuseppe Carrora until his pro career started and he made an apparent nod toward a Caledonian constituency) and Sid Terris over twelve rounds at featherweight. Sid won on points.

When the tumult subsided, and the boxers gathered together their kit bags to leave that Garden for the last time, one John F. Mullins strode into the ring in the distinctive colors of the Fighting 69th, bedecked with his war medals, and played taps. Hallelujah!