How Ben Treated the Deputy Sheriff--Annie Gibbons, the Pedestrian--Ben
Goes to Pittsburg and Meets Mr. Green.
After his somewhat sudden departure from Rochester, Ben made his way to
New York.
There, at the invitation which had been extended to him while in Rochester
by Kehoe, the well-known Indian club manufacturer, Ben consented to appear
at a sparring exhibition given at No. 600 Broadway. It was intended that
Hogan should have a set-to with Johnny Dwyer, the now famous heavy-weight
champion of America, but the latter had arranged to meet Rourke, and
therefore begged to be excused from a second encounter. In place of Dwyer,
Ben, at the request of old Uncle Bill Tovee, consented to a bout with
Billy Edwards.
It should be remembered that at this time Dwyer and Edwards were
comparatively unknown, the latter having but recently entered upon his
fistic career. He came to Ben, and requested him to use him gently in the
bout, inasmuch as he was then matched to fight Sam Collyer--his first
professional match.
The set-to was an interesting one, although Ben did not attempt to punish
his antagonist as he might have done had he so chosen. Unfortunately,
however, Edwards made a slip and struck Ben on the forehead with his head,
inflicting a wound which caused the blood to flow freely. This gave rise
to such intense excitement that the set-to was brought to an end.
It is worth while to note that many of the men assembled on that occasion
have since attained to distinction. There was Uncle Bill Tovee, born
before the flood, and known further back than the memory of man stretches.
There was Kehoe, whose fame was as broad as the country, but who, alas! is
now dragging out his days in the Flatbush Insane Asylum. There was George
Rourke, now the middle-weight champion, and a capital boxer. There was
Billy Edwards, a mere boy then, but still giving promise of the greatness
to which he has since attained. A more expert light-weight pugilist will
not be seen for years to come than Edwards. And there, also, was Johnny
Dwyer, who is now at the top of his profession, the champion heavy-weight
of America, and as thorough a gentleman as he is a pugilist. Dwyer is
to-day traveling with Joe Goss, England's pride, and a man whose
achievements in the ring are too familiar to need dwelling upon here.
There, too, was Ben Hogan--but modesty prevents us from saying more.
Coburn, at this time, was matched to fight with McCool, and was in
training in Harlem. He sent for Hogan, upon hearing of the latter's
arrival in the city, and made him his assistant trainer. Ben remained in
this position for about sixty days. It was during this time that he met
the deputy sheriff who had taken him to Warren, Pa., at the time of his
arrest. As was intimated some pages back, Ben was determined to get even
with this fellow, and the opportunity offered itself in the most timely
manner. Ben learned that the deputy was to arrive in the city by the
Albany boat, and moreover, that he intended to stop at the Astor House.
With this information, he had the fellow driven to the hotel named by a
cabman whom he (Ben) had paid. In this way he made sure of his game. Then
he ran across the deputy seemingly by accident, shook hands with him
cordially, and professed to be delighted at the meeting.
That same evening Ben contrived matters so that his Pennsylvania friend
should drop in at Harry Hill's. Then he proceeded to put into execution
the plan which he had formed. Getting some burnt cork, he blackened his
face so as to look like a negro, put on a woolly wig, and the roughest
suit of clothes he could find. In this disguise he told the policeman on
the beat that there was a man in Harry Hill's whom he was going to lick
when he came out. He explained that after thrashing his victim all that he
cared to, he should roll him over on top of him (Ben) so that the officer
might arrest the chap on the charge of assault and battery.
Having fixed these preliminaries, Ben took up his station at the door of
Harry's famous house. In good time the deputy made his appearance. No
sooner had he done so than Ben jumped upon, threw him to the ground, and
proceeded to take all the satisfaction out of his hide that he cared to.
The poor deputy made but a sorry show of resistance, and indeed it would
have made but little difference whether he had done so or not. After Ben
had thrashed him to his heart's content, he rolled him to the top of the
heap, and began crying out hastily:
"Police! Police!"
The officer of course made his appearance upon the scene, and finding a
big strapping fellow abusing a poor inoffensive darkey, arrested the
former and let the latter go.
The next morning the deputy sheriff was arraigned in a police justice's
court, and fined twenty-five dollars for assault and battery--which, let
us hope, taught him not to attack innocent and unprotected negroes.
Upon leaving New York, Ben went to Albany, where he opened a place at the
corner of Hudson and Greene streets, on the same principle as that in
Rochester. The resort became well known in Albany and was frequented by
all the sporting men of the capital.
Ben assisted in getting up the walking match at Rennsselaer Park, in which
Weston, Adoc, Payne, Ferguson, and a member of the Troy police force were
entered as competitors. Three purses were offered; the first three
hundred, the second two hundred, and the third fifty dollars. The
pedestrians were to undertake the feat of walking one hundred miles in
twenty-four hours.
Ben trained Adoc and Payne with the understanding that he was to have
one-half of all the prize money they won. The two men took first and
second money, but they cleared out without sharing with their trainer. A
seven-mile walk was held that same day for a purse of four hundred
dollars, which Ben raised by subscription on the ground.
I desire to refer to one incident which occured during Ben's stay in
Albany, and which I think illustrates a trait in his character for which
few persons are cognizant.
A young man of good family and excellent advantages often came into
Hogan's place in a state of intoxication. One day Ben fell to talking with
him about the matter, and told him that unless he stopped short he would
certainly die from the effects of liquor.
"But I have tried to stop," said the young man, "and it's no use. The fact
of it is, Ben, I can't live without my bitters now."
"Well," answered Ben, "you can't live much longer with them, that's
certain. Now I'll tell you what I'll do. If you will follow my directions
for three months--do just what I tell you to--I'll get you a new rig
throughout, give you a gold watch and chain and make as good a man of you
as I am."
The young man at once agreed to this liberal proposition. Ben's course of
treatment was substantially as follows: For the first week he gave his
patient three drinks of strong liquor a day. He made his diet consist of
oatmeal, beef tea, and other equally nourishing articles. He caused him to
exercise as much as his strength would permit, go to bed at regular hours,
and to bathe himself freely. During the second week the dose of liquor was
reduced to two drinks a day; the third week, to one a day; and the fourth
week it was dispensed with altogether. This gradual shutting off of his
accustomed stimulus made it an easy task to go without liquor. Ben
furnished him with beer and light wines, and gave him to understand that
he might use these beverages as freely as he cared to.
The result of all this was that the young man who had sunk to the lowest
depths of degradation, was rescued from rum's power. Ben was as good as
his word, and fitted him out with a complete suit of new clothes. He is
living to-day, an honored and respected citizen.
At the time of which I am writing, an exhibition of sparring was given in
Turner's Hall, by Tom Kelly and Patsy Reardon. The entertainment wound up
with a set-to between Patsy and Ben which was one of the toughest contests
on record. But a single round was fought, yet this occupied three-quarters
of an hour. The men were so evenly matched that it was impossible for
either to score a victory. Both, therefore, were compelled to throw up the
sponge, and both declared it to be the hardest round they had ever fought.
A young woman, by name Annie Gibbons, who had formerly been a clog-dancer,
was discovered by Hogan, while in Albany, and put in training for a
pedestrian.
This Annie Gibbons was a remarkable character in more ways than one. She
knocked about the city, visiting all sorts of haunts, in men's attire, and
passing herself off everywhere as a boy. It was no uncommon occurrence for
her to enter a faro bank with Ben and engage in the game with as much
interest as anybody. At such times she would frequently hear herself
talked about with the utmost freedom.
"That's a soft thing you've got, Ben," some one would remark.
"What are you going to do with the girl, anyway?" from a second speaker.
"She must be a plucky one," a third would add.
All of which was listened to in silence by Annie herself, whose presence,
of course, was never suspected by the speakers.
Her powers as a pedestrian were something really extraordinary. She could
walk fifty miles in ten hours--a feat which she actually performed in
Troy. Ben saw of course that there was money to be made out of this woman,
and he put her through a thorough course of training. Then he took her to
Syracuse, where she gave an exhibition of her powers, and also to Elmira.
At this latter place, Ben parted company with her. She made her way to
Rochester, Hogan meantime going to Oneida with McLaughlin.
While in Oneida, Ben saw by the newspapers that the girl had got into
trouble in Rochester, and had been committed to the penitentiary. He
accordingly followed her to that city, and after some little effort,
obtained her release. The two then proceeded in company to Buffalo.
It so happened that Adoc and Payne were also in the city at this time. Ben
had not forgotten how these two worthies skipped from Albany without
sharing the prize money as they had agreed to do. He therefore put Miss
Annie to good account in getting even with the two pedestrians. It did not
take her very long to relieve them of all the money they had, thus
settling up with interest Hogan's old scores.
Ben meantime had returned to Oneida, where he was giving lessons in
boxing. The town, as the reader probably knows, is still frequented by
many Indians, relics of the once famous Oneida tribe. Ben conceived the
idea of training seven of these noble red men, and taking them to Europe
to exhibit. But the project fell through, and proved a losing speculation.
Returning to Syracuse Ben met with Bob Bridley, then the champion
middle-weight of England. The two formed a partnership, and gave sparring
exhibitions in Syracuse, Geneva, Lockport, Waterloo, Erie, Buffalo, and
finally in Cleveland.
During this trip, they cleared an even seventeen hundred dollars. At this
time Allen and Gallagher were matched for a fight, and upon reaching
Cleveland, Ben and Bridley, on information which seemed to them
trustworthy, put up their entire pile on Allen. They had been informed
that Gallagher was sick, and would be in no condition to fight. As it was,
however, he showed up well enough to knock the wind out of Allen, and the
money out of our friends who had backed the latter.
Finding himself again strapped, Ben proceeded to Pittsburgh, where he made
his first appearance in a sparring exhibition held in Lafayette Hall.
Gearing, Reise, and others figured on that occasion.
Ben next went to Petroleum Centre, hoping to raise money enough to enable
him to fight Allen. A funny incident which occurred at this time deserves
to be briefly related.
In Nell Robinson's house--where Tom Snowden was then tending bar--our hero
met with an exceedingly verdant chap whom we will designate by the
appropriate name of Green. Ben who still carried with him that
peculiar-looking tobacco-box, already described, showed it to Mr. Green.
Mr. Green at once became interested. Ben explained to him how simple it
was to open, and then offered to bet him ten dollars that he couldn't open
it. One Gasper, who acted as a capper, suggested that Mr. Green make his
bet twenty-five dollars. It was immaterial to Mr. Green, and so the wager
was made, and Ben pocketed the money. Instead, however, of becoming
enraged, this seemed only to heighten the good opinion which Mr. Green
entertained toward his new friend. Ben had grown somewhat shabby at this
time, and the generous Mr. Green magnanimously proposed to buy him a suit
of clothes. This offer was very readily accepted, and proceeding at once
to a clothing store, Ben blossomed out in a complete new suit, which was
afterward crowned by a shining silk hat.
These little incidental expenses were nothing to Mr. Green so long as they
purchased for him the privilege of being in Ben Hogan's company. He had a
profound admiration for pugilists. So to pamper this innocent weakness,
Ben introduced the fellow as Mike McCool. That suited him to a T. At Ben's
suggestion, they obtained a violin and bagpipe, and visited various
bar-rooms, in all of which Mr. Green flaunted himself as the genuine
McCool.
"You see," said Ben, "with these musical instruments we can travel around
together, call at all the saloons, get a crowd, and then give sparring
exhibitions, and make piles of money."
Mr. Green thought this a capital idea. The fun continued until Ben finally
climaxed it all by persuading Green to hire a band and get aboard the
train for Oil City. While the band was playing and the crowd staring, and
Mr. Green showing what a great man he was, Ben quietly got off the cars,
and the train went on without him. So did Mr. Green and his band. The
former sent a telegram back to Petroleum City, and Hogan replied that he
would be on in the next train; but having got his clothes and hat, and a
fair sum of money, he permitted Mr. Green to depart in his glory.
It was a pity that there were not more Greens, for, had there been, our
hero might have lived like a prince, without troubling himself to work. As
it was, however, Ben began to look about for some means of raising the
wherewithal to bring Allen to a fight.
Gus Rigl promised him half his place, but this promise turned out of no
account. Then Ben joined with John Sweeney and started out, giving
sparring exhibitions. They visited Oil City, Petroleum Centre, Titusville,
Cora, Rouseville, and met everywhere with encouraging success.
This gave Ben enough of a lift to warrant the opening of a place in
Titusville, with Jerry O'Brien--which he did.
Having by this time raised a sufficient sum of money, Ben determined to
carry out his original project, and challenge Tom Allen to a fight. Such a
challenge was written out and sent to the _New York Clipper_, accompanied
by one hundred dollars' forfeit. Allen's reply, which appeared in the same
journal, stated that he had already matches arranged with McCool and
Gallagher; that he was in training for these, and that he did not care to
enter into any third match. He therefore refused to accept Ben's
challenge.
It may be well to add in this connection, since there has been so much
said and written about the meetings between Allen and Hogan, that Ben had
no knowledge of Allen's intention to fight either Gallagher or McCool at
this time, and that he was perfectly sincere in his desire to bring about
a fight. The challenge was not made for the sake of bluster, but simply
to decide which was the better man. As we shall see further on, a meeting
was finally arranged between the two men, and at that time Ben showed that
he was by no means afraid of Allen's fists.