Joey and Franky were sitting on the steps on the tenement building where Jimmy lived,
awaiting his return from the arena. Apparently their subway trip was a lot faster than
Max’s car inching its way through the Queens and Manhattan traffic. “Hi guys,” said
Jimmy as he approached Joey and Franky,” what are you doing here? Were you at the
arena? Did you see the fight.” “You betcha your sweet......,” replied Franky,” didcha
think we would miss that?” “I thought that you would be there” replied Jimmy, but how
didcha get the money for the tickets. I heard that they were pretty expensive,” “Yeah,”
said Joey, but we woiked out a deal with the pushcart guys, so we were able to get the
tickets.”
“Yeah, what kinda deal,” asked Jimmy. “You’d never guess.” replied Franky, “but let
me tell ya, we promised those guys that we wouldn’t harress them anymore, and that we
wouldn’t steal anything from their pushcarts again. They said okay, but only because
they’ve been keeping up wid ya, and since you’re from the neighborhood, they’ll do us
the favor, and give us money for the tickets. Also they gave us a bunch of business cards
that we supposed to give to the customers at the arena.” “Well, didja?” asked Jimmy,
“coitenly,” said Joey, “whatcha think, we’re dishonest or sumptin?”
“Well how dicha like the fight?” asked Jimmy, “Well, we were a little bit disappointed at
foist” stated Joey, “why whatcha mean disappointed?” “Gee, Jimmy, we thought that
you’d knock him out in the foist round, you losing your touch or what?”
“Hey Jimmy, Jimmy,” came the sound from the crowd, just turning the corner to Jimmys
building, we came to congratulate you. We are real proud of you,” said Abe Weinstein
one of the pushcart vendors in his thick Jewish accent . Jimmy looked around at the
enterperage coming to meet him. He recognized Sam Levy, Pacy Tennenbaum, and
many others. All of them vendors that Jimmy and his boys gave a hard time to in the past.
Now here they were congratulating him, shaking his hand like he was some sort of hero.
They felt that he was. Nothing like this every happened around here. Park Avenue in
Harlem suddenly became famous. Here was a boy, all of them knew from the time he
was born. Sure he was a pain in the.......He gave them a hard time, and they did he, but
this all changed now. He was the talk of the boxing scene, and he was all their own.
“Jimmy,” said Abe, “all of us got together, and we want to give you something. We
would be proud if you wore this T shirt in your next fight/” Abe held the shirt up for
Jimmy to see. On its back was the words written in an eloquent script, The Park Avenue
Street Vendors Association. Jimmy was not aware that they had an association, all he
knew that they sold stuff, stuff that he and his boys occasionally stole. He was honored
at this, but he had a problem. He had worn Max’s gym logo shirt at his last two fights.
How could he suddenly wear this one. But the decision had to wait. Right now he had to
make some sort of acknowledgment or their feelings would be hurt. “Gee, thanks
fellows, I sure appreciate this. It was real nice of you to do this.”
Jimmy started out to the gym early the next morning. Since it was Saturday, he would
have all the time in the world to work out, and maybe if he finished early, he would meet
with the boys, fool around, maybe go out on dates, or just unwind, go to Rosens candy
store for maybe a black and white ice cream soda.(chocolate syrup and vanilla ice
cream). He hadn’t done this for quite a while. Yeah it would be a good idea.
Jimmy had much on his mind this morning, when is he going to fight again, what plans
has Max made for him? What’s next? They didn’t talk very much on the ride home from
the arena. It was a serene feeling and talk was not necessary between them. As Jimmy
turned the corner for the gym, he noticed some sort of commotion in front of the gym.
There were about a dozen people just milling around. Some had cameras. Some had
what seemed to be note pads. As he approached the gym, he was besieged by these
reporters. “Hey Jimmy, got a statement for us? When is your next fight? What did you
think when you knocked out Johnny?” How in the world did these guys know that I
would be here, somebody musta told them. Not Max, he wouldn’t do that. Neither
would Izzy. Someone did, but who?
Jimmy didn’t know how to answer all these questions that were thrown at him. He
wished Max was here. But he did answer them somewhat, something he had learned
from Max. “I really don’t know how to answer your questions. I don’t know when my
next fight would be. You’ll have to ask my trainer. I guess you’ll have to ask him
everything you want to ask me.” As he tried to push his way through the crowd to enter
the gym, one reporter blared out. “Hey Jimmy, don’t you know that you’re sort of a
celebrity now,” and held up the front page of the sports section of one of the most
popular New York tabloids, with the caption, “Jimmy.....on his second amateur fight
scores a 2nd round T.K.O. at the ....Arena.” Below the caption was a photo of Jimmy,
dressed in his boxing gear, seemingly posing for the photographer, but Jimmy didn’t
remember doing this. There was a story following the photograph, which he did not read
nor wanted to. “Don’t you know that everybody’s talking about you, that they think your
style is similar to.........(a professional boxer) and that although you’ve only had 2 official
fights, they think that you have the potential of being a contender when you turn
professional.” Jimmy thought this was funny. He was only 16 years old, and a long way
from becoming a professional. He didn’t answer their questions, but walked into the gym.
The reporters and photographers tried to follow, but their entrance was blocked by some
of the staffs employees. Howie, a 230 lb 6foot 4 inch bruiser and a wrestler, who trained
at the gym often, just stood in front of the doorway, and dared anyone to try passing him.
The automobile, a new Cadillac pulled up just in front of Jimmy as he was walking home
after a light workout at the gym. “Hey son, can I talk to you for a minute,” the man in the
back seat of the limousine called. Jimmy stopped suddenly, wondering what the man
wanted. Opening the door of the car, the stranger stepped out. Jimmy guessed his age to
be about forty years old. He was elegantly dressed in a sport jacket and slacks. Not the
usual dress of this neighborhood. Jimmy wondered what this stranger wanted, and what
was a car like this doing in this neighborhood. No telling what could happen to the car or
its occupants if some of the thugs around here decided to do something.
“Jimmy, yes I know your name, and I’d like a few words with you if you have the time.”
Have the time, geez, that’s all he had was time. “Sure, what can I do for you?” surprised
that he knew his name. “My name is Wes......and I’m a fan of yours. I saw your last two
fights, and was very much impressed. I also heard of your match with the pro fighter. I
sure wish I was there to see that. I suppose you’re wondering why I stopped you?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” replied Jimmy. “Well. I’m in the sports business, actually I’m a
boxing promoter. I manager boxers, both amateur and professional, and I’m always
looking for new talent, and to be quite honest with you, I sense a lot of potential in you,
and I was wondering if you’d be interested in joining my camp. Jimmy thought that this
Wes seemed like a nice guy, but Max had forewarned Jimmy that things like this would
happen. That he would be approached by every Tom, Dick, and Harry, eager to get a
potential talent like Jimmy in their clasp.
“I don’t think I would be interested sir. Max Rappaport does all my training for me, and
I’m very happy with him, and I would never think of leaving him, no matter what.”
Wes’s face took on a strange look. He had not expected such an answer from this snotty
nose kid. Most boxers that he approached were more than eager to accept his offer. His
voice also changed a bit, and said, “Listen kid, you’re missing a chance to be in the big
time some day, and I don’t think that this Max can do that for you. So, what do ya say?”
“I say no sir, not with you or anyone like you. Max is my trainer, manager, and
everything else that I don’t think that you can be.” With that, Jimmy turned around and
continued his walk to his home. In the fading distance he could hear, “I’m not finished
with you. You haven’t heard the last of me, and a few other remarks that Jimmy couldn’t
make out. Gawd, what an ....hole, thought Jimmy, I’ve gotta tell Max about this.
To be continued.....
