Chapter 10 Night in the Park
The streets around Madison Square Garden were quiet, but as
soon as Jim stepped outside, a crowd of around fifty men closed in
around him and Joe. They were very different from the crowd that
had waited after the Griffiths fight years ago. These men looked
tired and hungry. But when they saw Jim Braddock, hope lit up
their faces and they stood taller.
"Just sign your name for a few," said Joe with a smile. "Leave
them wanting more."
"No, Joe. Tonight I sign them all!"
Jim moved among the crowd, shaking hands and signing his
name and talking for over an hour.
Joe did most of the talking on the drive to New Jersey. When
they reached the apartment building, Jim opened the door.
"Good night, Joe."
"Haven't you forgotten something?" asked Joe. He reached into
his coat for Jim's share of the prize money. He began to explain
how he had decided on the amount.
"I trust you, Joe," said Jim. "And Mae trusts you, too."
Joe pushed the money into the fighter's hand and waved
goodnight.
When Jim entered the little apartment, he put some of the cash
in the jar on the shelf. He put the rest in a white envelope.
Jim didn't sleep much that night and he left the apartment
before Mae and the children woke up. The sidewalks were empty
as he walked to the center of town. He joined the line inside the
relief office and waited patiently.
Finally, he stepped up to the counter and nodded at the
woman. He gave her the white envelope.
The woman was confused when she looked at the cash. "So
. . . you're giving us the money back?"
On the way home, Jim bought twelve roses for Mae. They were
46
very expensive, but he wanted to apologize for not waking her to
tell her about the Lasky fight. He hadn't wanted to celebrate until
he had paid back the money to the relief office.
But when he got home, it wasn't the time for celebrating. Mike
Wilson's wife, Sara, was sitting on the sofa with her baby girl in
her arms. Her eyes were red from crying.
"Mike's gone," said Mae seriously. "It's been three days now."
"About a week after you left the docks, Jim, the foreman
stopped picking him for work," cried Sara. "I went to stay with my
brother. There wasn't room for Mike, so he's been sleeping in
Central Park." Sara looked straight at Jim. "He said he was going
to do some work for you. We were going to meet last night, but
Mike never came."
Silently, Mae pointed at the jar that contained their money. Jim
nodded. "Listen, Sara, you and Mae go and get something for the
baby's cough."
But Sara was crying. "Something's wrong. I know it is!"
Jim moved toward the front door. "I'll go and find him."
Hours later, Jim entered Central Park. As the sun sank, he knew
that the enormous park wasn't as empty as it looked. Since the
Crash of 1929, tens of thousands of New Yorkers were living in
cars, or on the streets, or in the subway. A lot of people had started
living in Central Park. Some of them built huts or tents from
any materials they could find. Others slept wherever they could.
They ate any food they could find or catch or steal.
Jim had heard that there had been a lot of sheep in Central
Park. Most had been moved away. Now, as he searched for Mike,
Jim saw park workers guiding the last sheep into enormous
wagons. Jim watched until a policeman on a horse waved at him
to move away.
The shadows became longer as night came, and soon trash can
fires were the only lights in the park. Jim went deeper into the
park, past huts and tents. The sound of wet coughs filled the air.
47 "Mike! Mike Wilson?" he called.
Suddenly, two running policemen shouted at him to get out of
the way. He looked to see where they were going and saw a crowd
of people around several policemen on horses. Jim heard angry
shouts and saw flames. He ran to the crowd and had to push his
way through a wall of people to reach the center.
A group of men had fought the police here, turning one of the
sheep wagons over and burning huts. The police were in control
again and were guiding the men away like sheep.
There were two policemen on horses near Jim. "We were just
trying to move the sheep," one of them told the other. "But one of
these guys started shouting at us. He was angry, very political.
Then they attacked us."
Jim closed his eyes and remembered all Mike's angry talk. He
knew this must be Mike. He began looking for his friend among
all the fallen men on the grass. He got closer to the wagon that lay
on its side.
"A guy tried to free the sheep," a policeman was saying. "The
horses were scared and the wagon turned over."
There was someone with his legs under the enormous wheels
of the wagon. A group of men lifted the wagon up, and that's
when Jim realized that there was a second man under the wagon,
lying in a pool of blood. It was Mike.
Jim's friend wasn't dead yet. Jim moved the hair from Mike's
eyes.
"Did you win?" Mike asked. His voice was soft and filled with
pain.
Jim nodded. "You're going to be OK, Mike," he said.
Mike managed a weak nod. "I know it. . ."
But, in the cold and dark of New York's Central Park, as the
smoke from the burning huts blew over them and took away the
last of the light, both men knew that this wasn't true.
•
48
Few people came to Mike's funeral. It was a work day and most
people couldn't afford to lose a day's money. Only Jim and Mae
Braddock and their three children stood with Sara Wilson and her
baby daughter as Mike's body was put into the ground.
Jim spoke of Mike's love for his family, his wife. He didn't say
what he felt—that Mike's death was a waste, a stupid, unnecessary
waste. Jim understood why people got angry, but Mike's anger
hadn't helped his wife or his daughter. Jim wished he had known
how bad things had become for his friend. He couldn't forget
how kind Mike had been to him when he started working at the
docks.
Mae's attention was on Sara, whose eyes were far away. She
seemed to be staring into the long future that waited for her
without her husband.
As she looked at Sara, part of Mae wondered if she was looking
into a mirror of her own future. Maybe not today or tomorrow—
but one day she might lose Jim.
Chapter 10 Night in the ParkThe streets around Madison Square Garden were quiet, but assoon as Jim stepped outside, a crowd of around fifty men closed inaround him and Joe. They were very different from the crowd thathad waited after the Griffiths fight years ago. These men lookedtired and hungry. But when they saw Jim Braddock, hope lit uptheir faces and they stood taller."Just sign your name for a few," said Joe with a smile. "Leavethem wanting more.""No, Joe. Tonight I sign them all!"Jim moved among the crowd, shaking hands and signing hisname and talking for over an hour.Joe did most of the talking on the drive to New Jersey. Whenthey reached the apartment building, Jim opened the door."Good night, Joe.""Haven't you forgotten something?" asked Joe. He reached intohis coat for Jim's share of the prize money. He began to explainhow he had decided on the amount."I trust you, Joe," said Jim. "And Mae trusts you, too."Joe pushed the money into the fighter's hand and wavedgoodnight.When Jim entered the little apartment, he put some of the cashin the jar on the shelf. He put the rest in a white envelope.Jim didn't sleep much that night and he left the apartmentbefore Mae and the children woke up. The sidewalks were emptyas he walked to the center of town. He joined the line inside therelief office and waited patiently.Finally, he stepped up to the counter and nodded at thewoman. He gave her the white envelope.The woman was confused when she looked at the cash. "So. . . you're giving us the money back?"On the way home, Jim bought twelve roses for Mae. They were46very expensive, but he wanted to apologize for not waking her totell her about the Lasky fight. He hadn't wanted to celebrate untilhe had paid back the money to the relief office.But when he got home, it wasn't the time for celebrating. MikeWilson's wife, Sara, was sitting on the sofa with her baby girl inher arms. Her eyes were red from crying."Mike's gone," said Mae seriously. "It's been three days now.""About a week after you left the docks, Jim, the foremanstopped picking him for work," cried Sara. "I went to stay with mybrother. There wasn't room for Mike, so he's been sleeping inCentral Park." Sara looked straight at Jim. "He said he was goingto do some work for you. We were going to meet last night, butMike never came."Silently, Mae pointed at the jar that contained their money. Jimnodded. "Listen, Sara, you and Mae go and get something for thebaby's cough."But Sara was crying. "Something's wrong. I know it is!"Jim moved toward the front door. "I'll go and find him."Hours later, Jim entered Central Park. As the sun sank, he knewthat the enormous park wasn't as empty as it looked. Since theCrash of 1929, tens of thousands of New Yorkers were living incars, or on the streets, or in the subway. A lot of people had startedliving in Central Park. Some of them built huts or tents from
any materials they could find. Others slept wherever they could.
They ate any food they could find or catch or steal.
Jim had heard that there had been a lot of sheep in Central
Park. Most had been moved away. Now, as he searched for Mike,
Jim saw park workers guiding the last sheep into enormous
wagons. Jim watched until a policeman on a horse waved at him
to move away.
The shadows became longer as night came, and soon trash can
fires were the only lights in the park. Jim went deeper into the
park, past huts and tents. The sound of wet coughs filled the air.
47 "Mike! Mike Wilson?" he called.
Suddenly, two running policemen shouted at him to get out of
the way. He looked to see where they were going and saw a crowd
of people around several policemen on horses. Jim heard angry
shouts and saw flames. He ran to the crowd and had to push his
way through a wall of people to reach the center.
A group of men had fought the police here, turning one of the
sheep wagons over and burning huts. The police were in control
again and were guiding the men away like sheep.
There were two policemen on horses near Jim. "We were just
trying to move the sheep," one of them told the other. "But one of
these guys started shouting at us. He was angry, very political.
Then they attacked us."
Jim closed his eyes and remembered all Mike's angry talk. He
knew this must be Mike. He began looking for his friend among
all the fallen men on the grass. He got closer to the wagon that lay
on its side.
"A guy tried to free the sheep," a policeman was saying. "The
horses were scared and the wagon turned over."
There was someone with his legs under the enormous wheels
of the wagon. A group of men lifted the wagon up, and that's
when Jim realized that there was a second man under the wagon,
lying in a pool of blood. It was Mike.
Jim's friend wasn't dead yet. Jim moved the hair from Mike's
eyes.
"Did you win?" Mike asked. His voice was soft and filled with
pain.
Jim nodded. "You're going to be OK, Mike," he said.
Mike managed a weak nod. "I know it. . ."
But, in the cold and dark of New York's Central Park, as the
smoke from the burning huts blew over them and took away the
last of the light, both men knew that this wasn't true.
•
48
Few people came to Mike's funeral. It was a work day and most
people couldn't afford to lose a day's money. Only Jim and Mae
Braddock and their three children stood with Sara Wilson and her
baby daughter as Mike's body was put into the ground.
Jim spoke of Mike's love for his family, his wife. He didn't say
what he felt—that Mike's death was a waste, a stupid, unnecessary
waste. Jim understood why people got angry, but Mike's anger
hadn't helped his wife or his daughter. Jim wished he had known
how bad things had become for his friend. He couldn't forget
how kind Mike had been to him when he started working at the
docks.
Mae's attention was on Sara, whose eyes were far away. She
seemed to be staring into the long future that waited for her
without her husband.
As she looked at Sara, part of Mae wondered if she was looking
into a mirror of her own future. Maybe not today or tomorrow—
but one day she might lose Jim.
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