He joined the group of men at the fence. Finally, the foreman
Jake appeared and began pointing to men.
"Six, seven, eight. . ." Jake's eyes passed Jim, then returned to
him. The foreman said Jim's name and everybody turned to look.
"Nine."
Jim closed his eyes in relief. As he passed through the gate, Jake
said to him, "I listened to the fight last night." He took out his
newspaper. Jim's eyes ran over the words:
BRADDOCK KNOCKOUT OVER GRIFFIN IN 3
Jim shook his head, not believing it. A few men crowded round
to hear what he had to say. They seemed surprised that he had
come to work today.
"It was one night only," explained Jim. "My share was a
hundred and twenty five dollars. We had bills of one hundred
and twenty to pay. That left me with five dollars."
Jake laughed. "That makes you a rich man." Then he said
seriously, "Good fight."
Jim could see that these men around him, with their old clothes
and tired faces, had found hope watching him fight. He had
fought something real, something he could see—they all wished
for that chance.
He joined his partner, Mike. Words weren't necessary. The two
picked up their hooks and began to work, moving the heavy sacks.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to win again?" said
Mike. "I didn't put any money on you."
Mike smiled, but it wasn't the smile Jim remembered. It was
tired. Less happy.
"Come on," Mike said. "Talk me through that last round."
Jim started describing the events of the last round again. Since
the cast had come off his arm, he worked with both hands.
Without thinking, he moved the hook to his left hand and
continued working with smooth, strong movements.
38
•
A week later, Mae was walking back from the stores with Rosy
when she saw a shiny new car drive away from their apartment
house. Joe Gould's car.
She found Jim standing in the yard behind the building. He
looked so happy, so handsome and confident in the sun, with his
square chin and his bright eyes up to the blue sky. Then he turned
and Mae felt her heart stop. She saw it in his eyes—the old
excitement.
"Joe was here," said Jim. "He thinks they'll let me box again."
It was hard for Mae to speak. "You said it was one fight."
"It's my chance, Mae, to make you and the kids proud."
Mae fought to control her fear and anger. "I am proud . . .
and grateful. But what would we do if something bad happened
to you? Something worse than a broken hand, so you couldn't
work?"
She couldn't even tell her worst fear: What will happen if you're
killed?
"What would happen to us?" demanded Mae. "To the children?
We're hardly managing now."
Jim shook his head sadly. He waved a hand at the broken
building, the empty yard. Couldn't she see? He was already killing
himself-—and for what? A few coins at the end of a long day's
work? "I have to do better than I'm doing," he replied.
Mae stepped closer. "Things are better now. Please, Jim . . ."
He wanted to take her in his arms, but he stopped himself. He
had to think about the family's future. The strength was clear in his
voice. "I can still take a few punches. At least in the ring you know
who's hitting you."
Mae felt helpless as she watched him walk to the building's dark
back door. This isn't over, James Braddock, she promised.
•
39
The next morning Jim left early for the gym. Mae left the
apartment house, too. She took the kids to her sister's house, and
then she crossed the Hudson River to New York City.
She was going to the small part of the city known as the Upper
East Side. It was an area of beautiful houses, expensive apartment
buildings, and fine hotels. Some of the richest people in the
country lived on the blocks along the city's Central Park.
Two streets away, the buildings weren't quite so beautiful, but
they were still home to wealthy people. In front of each apartment
building, a uniformed doorman stood guard.
When she reached the tall building, she looked up, trying to
guess how many floors it had. She went through the beautiful
entrance hall to the elevator. On the fifteenth floor, she moved
down the line of doors.
She knocked on one and called politely, "Open the door,
Joe." There was no answer. She tried again, and again, but nobody
came to the door. "Joe, open this door now!" Mae shouted.
"You're not going to hide in your expensive apartment while
you turn my husband into a punching bag. I won't let you get
him hurt again!"
The door opened. "You'd better come in," said Joe Gould.
As she pushed past him, Mae's anger died. She had expected the
manager's home to be beautiful. But she looked around now at a
completely empty apartment.
Minutes later, she sat on a camping chair, drinking tea with Joe
and his wife Lucille. She hadn't expected this friendly welcome.
"Sorry," said Joe, pointing to the door. "People have to think
you're doing well."
"I thought. . ." said Mae.
"That's the plan," said Joe, touching his fine brown suit. "Show
people you're doing well, even if you're not. We sold the last of the
furniture last week," he continued, "so Jimmy could train."
"Why?" Mae asked.
40
"Sometimes you see something in a fighter, something to hope
for," answered Joe. "Jimmy's what I hope for."
Mae shook her head. "This is crazy. You don't even know if you
can get him a fight, do you?"
"I'll get him a fight," Joe said, "if it's the last thing I do."
Chapter 9 Not the Same Guy
The gym owner, Joe Jeannette, looked pleased. "You've been
training, Jimmy.''
"I've been working, Joe. Not training."
"Show me what work you did."
"I was lifting sacks at the dock," explained Jim. "We used a
hook, like this." He showed the movement.
"That's the perfect punching exercise," said Jeannette. "You've
been getting a powerful left hand, and you didn't even know it."
In the next few weeks, Braddock trained hard. After all those
months of hard work, it was like a vacation to train with Jeannette.
But the trainer pushed him hard. Every week there were new
exercises, new skills to learn and practice.
While Braddock worked at the gym, Joe Gould was busy in
other ways. At Madison Square Garden, he walked into Jimmy
Johnston's office and sat down.
"You're going to arrange a fight between Jim Braddock and
John Henry Lewis."
Johnston looked up from the papers he was signing. "Now why
would I do that?"
Joe smiled confidently. "Lewis is number two in line to fight
for the heavyweight title, and he's already beaten Braddock once
before. So put Braddock against Lewis. If Lewis wins, your boy has
had a good practice fight before his next opponent, and you make
some money. If, by some chance, Braddock beats Lewis, you have a
41
He joined the group of men at the fence. Finally, the foremanJake appeared and began pointing to men."Six, seven, eight. . ." Jake's eyes passed Jim, then returned tohim. The foreman said Jim's name and everybody turned to look."Nine."Jim closed his eyes in relief. As he passed through the gate, Jakesaid to him, "I listened to the fight last night." He took out hisnewspaper. Jim's eyes ran over the words:BRADDOCK KNOCKOUT OVER GRIFFIN IN 3Jim shook his head, not believing it. A few men crowded roundto hear what he had to say. They seemed surprised that he hadcome to work today."It was one night only," explained Jim. "My share was ahundred and twenty five dollars. We had bills of one hundredand twenty to pay. That left me with five dollars."Jake laughed. "That makes you a rich man." Then he saidseriously, "Good fight."Jim could see that these men around him, with their old clothesand tired faces, had found hope watching him fight. He hadfought something real, something he could see—they all wishedfor that chance.He joined his partner, Mike. Words weren't necessary. The twopicked up their hooks and began to work, moving the heavy sacks."Why didn't you tell me you were going to win again?" saidMike. "I didn't put any money on you."Mike smiled, but it wasn't the smile Jim remembered. It wastired. Less happy."Come on," Mike said. "Talk me through that last round."Jim started describing the events of the last round again. Sincethe cast had come off his arm, he worked with both hands.Without thinking, he moved the hook to his left hand andcontinued working with smooth, strong movements.38•A week later, Mae was walking back from the stores with Rosywhen she saw a shiny new car drive away from their apartmenthouse. Joe Gould's car.She found Jim standing in the yard behind the building. Helooked so happy, so handsome and confident in the sun, with hissquare chin and his bright eyes up to the blue sky. Then he turnedand Mae felt her heart stop. She saw it in his eyes—the oldexcitement."Joe was here," said Jim. "He thinks they'll let me box again."It was hard for Mae to speak. "You said it was one fight.""It's my chance, Mae, to make you and the kids proud."Mae fought to control her fear and anger. "I am proud . . .and grateful. But what would we do if something bad happenedto you? Something worse than a broken hand, so you couldn'twork?"She couldn't even tell her worst fear: What will happen if you'rekilled?"What would happen to us?" demanded Mae. "To the children?We're hardly managing now."Jim shook his head sadly. He waved a hand at the brokenbuilding, the empty yard. Couldn't she see? He was already killinghimself-—and for what? A few coins at the end of a long day'swork? "I have to do better than I'm doing," he replied.Mae stepped closer. "Things are better now. Please, Jim . . ."He wanted to take her in his arms, but he stopped himself. Hehad to think about the family's future. The strength was clear in hisvoice. "I can still take a few punches. At least in the ring you knowwho's hitting you."Mae felt helpless as she watched him walk to the building's darkback door. This isn't over, James Braddock, she promised.•39The next morning Jim left early for the gym. Mae left theapartment house, too. She took the kids to her sister's house, andthen she crossed the Hudson River to New York City.She was going to the small part of the city known as the UpperEast Side. It was an area of beautiful houses, expensive apartmentbuildings, and fine hotels. Some of the richest people in thecountry lived on the blocks along the city's Central Park.Two streets away, the buildings weren't quite so beautiful, butthey were still home to wealthy people. In front of each apartmentbuilding, a uniformed doorman stood guard.When she reached the tall building, she looked up, trying toguess how many floors it had. She went through the beautifulentrance hall to the elevator. On the fifteenth floor, she moveddown the line of doors.She knocked on one and called politely, "Open the door,Joe." There was no answer. She tried again, and again, but nobodycame to the door. "Joe, open this door now!" Mae shouted."You're not going to hide in your expensive apartment whileyou turn my husband into a punching bag. I won't let you gethim hurt again!"The door opened. "You'd better come in," said Joe Gould.As she pushed past him, Mae's anger died. She had expected themanager's home to be beautiful. But she looked around now at acompletely empty apartment.Minutes later, she sat on a camping chair, drinking tea with Joeand his wife Lucille. She hadn't expected this friendly welcome."Sorry," said Joe, pointing to the door. "People have to thinkyou're doing well.""I thought. . ." said Mae."That's the plan," said Joe, touching his fine brown suit. "Showpeople you're doing well, even if you're not. We sold the last of thefurniture last week," he continued, "so Jimmy could train.""Why?" Mae asked.40"Sometimes you see something in a fighter, something to hopefor," answered Joe. "Jimmy's what I hope for."Mae shook her head. "This is crazy. You don't even know if youcan get him a fight, do you?""I'll get him a fight," Joe said, "if it's the last thing I do."Chapter 9 Not the Same GuyThe gym owner, Joe Jeannette, looked pleased. "You've beentraining, Jimmy.''"I've been working, Joe. Not training.""Show me what work you did.""I was lifting sacks at the dock," explained Jim. "We used ahook, like this." He showed the movement."That's the perfect punching exercise," said Jeannette. "You'vebeen getting a powerful left hand, and you didn't even know it."In the next few weeks, Braddock trained hard. After all thosemonths of hard work, it was like a vacation to train with Jeannette.But the trainer pushed him hard. Every week there were newexercises, new skills to learn and practice.While Braddock worked at the gym, Joe Gould was busy inother ways. At Madison Square Garden, he walked into JimmyJohnston's office and sat down."You're going to arrange a fight between Jim Braddock andJohn Henry Lewis."Johnston looked up from the papers he was signing. "Now whywould I do that?"Joe smiled confidently. "Lewis is number two in line to fightfor the heavyweight title, and he's already beaten Braddock oncebefore. So put Braddock against Lewis. If Lewis wins, your boy hashad a good practice fight before his next opponent, and you makesome money. If, by some chance, Braddock beats Lewis, you have a41
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