Chapter 2 Hard Times
Newark, New Jersey, September 25, 1933
Jim Braddock looked through the drawers below the same mirror
that had shown him the face of a lucky man. Dressing was quick
these days: he just put on what Mae had washed or fixed the night
before. He didn't have to kiss his gold cross for luck. He had sold it
years ago. Everyone's luck had gone now—even Jim Braddock's.
Something moved outside the window, probably a rat. This
was just a part of life when you lived in a single room in a dirty,
crowded apartment building. Behind Jim, his three hungry
children shared a bed in the cold family bedroom. Mae had hung
a blanket across the room to turn one room into two.
He looked again at his and Mae's wedding picture. In the last
few years they had lost their house and most of their furniture, but
they would always have this. In the picture, Mae looked beautiful;
Jim stood next to her, wearing a suit he didn't own now. The
couple in the photo smiled, not knowing the hard future that was
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ahead. But Jim liked to look at the picture every day. It reminded
him of the good things in his life.
He stepped into the kitchen, where Mae was cooking breakfast.
She looked different now—thinner, with dark circles under her
eyes. But to Jim she was still beautiful.
"I can't find my socks," he said.
"Jim!" whispered Mae, but it was too late.
"Mom, I want to eat, too," said little Rosy, pushing through the
blanket. Mae began to cut another thin piece of meat.
"Sorry," said Jim.
Rosy couldn't remember living in a big house, surrounded by
nice things, with new clothes and plenty of food. The girl climbed
onto her father, and Jim held her close to him. He hated seeing his
children grow up like this; it was harder than any fight.
"We got a final bill," said Mae, "for the gas and electricity."
Jim's shoulders fell. He took down a jar from the shelf, where
they kept their money for a "rainy day." He shook it and listened
to the few coins in the jar.
"It's clearly been raining more than I thought recently," he said.
Mae picked up three dishes and put a thin piece of hot meat on
each one. Jim began to cut up his daughter's food.
"I'm fighting Abe Feldman tonight," he told his wife. He didn't
tell her that Feldman had lost only one fight in nineteen. Instead,
he told her what he would earn—fifty dollars, more than he could
earn in one whole week on the docks.
Mae couldn't hide the old fear in her eyes. Since hard times had
hit their family—and the whole country—she had started to hate
the ring, with its punishments and its empty promises.
"Mommy, I want some more," said Rosy.
Jim looked at Mae and Rosy with their empty plates. "Mae,
I had a dream last night," he said, standing from the table. "I
dreamed that I was having dinner at an expensive hotel, and I had
a big, thick steak." He put on his old coat. "I had so much food,
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