The Harlem Hurricane
-- *——.. _
Jack Dempsey Barnstorming Runs Up Against the Har
lem Hurricane and is K.O.’d in the Most Sensational
Boxing Match of the Season. Hurricane
is Getting “Good.”
By EDWARD LAWSON
WHAT HAS HAPPENED: Billy Allen
sign* up Marty Bell, whom we nickname
the Harlem Hurricane, as an addition to
his stable of boxers, and turns him over
to me for training I work with him a
couple of months, and finally we get a
fight for him with Wally Palmer, ace
Harlem heavyweight. The Hurricane van
quish the Wildcat In six rounds, and
from that time on he makes steady pro
gress toward the heavyweight title.
His inspiration, as you might say. Is
a giri . amed Martha Taylor, who Is
rooting for him in a big way. She has
promised to marry him as soon as he
has ten thousand dollars in the bank,
and he is out to win the ten grand. Aft
er wiping up all the New York opposi
tion. we deciae to make a tour of the
West order to gain extra prestige and
box-office value for the Hurricane, and
tn his bouts throughout the country he
Is unifor. v successful.
Finally we land in Los Angeles, where
after he defeats Whipper Burns, leading
West coast contender for the crown, he
Is reported engage-* to Edna Masters, one
of the leading colored screen actresses.
The report astounds Billy Allen and my
self. and we cannot understand how It
came about.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY:
CHAPTER Vn
I hunted up the Hurricane and
stuck the paper before his eyes.
“What »oes all this mean?” I asked
him. “Since when are you plan
ning to middle-aisle it with Edna
Masters, huh?”
“Edna Masters?” he repeated
blankly. He looked at me bewil
dered, then turned to read the
headline. "Why,” he said, "I don’t
even know Edna Masters, except
that I met her and we danced a
little at that night club last light.
I’d 1-eard a lot about her, and I’d
seen he in a picture or two, but
that was all.”
“Then there's nothing at all to
the story?”
"Not so far as I know of.”
I breathed a little easier. “But
still,” I said, "I don’t see how a
thing like that co ild be started so
soon, and get ground so fast.
Where’c the yarn come from, in
the first place?”
"You can search me,” the Hur
ricane declared.
I turned to the telephone and
called the theatri'al editor of the
papier in which the rtory had ap
peared. "Where’d you get that
story aboi. Edna Masters and the
Hurricane being engaged?” I asked
him.
‘‘Miss M.stcrs’s pres" agent gave
it to ii," he told n "What's
wrong with it?”
"In the first place,” I growled,
“it isn’t true. The Hurricane only
met Miss Masters last night, and
only knows her as a casual acquaint
ance. .’ 1 beside;, he happens to
be engaged to somebody else. Isn't
that enough?”
"Well, what does it matter?” the
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“The Hurricane can lick
Jack Dempsey any day in
the week.”
editor protested. “Maybe it ain't
all true. It's a swel'. publicity stunt
anyway, even for your boy. His
picture will be plastered over every
sports page from here to Harlem
You just watch.”
“Year?" I sneered. “Well, I don't
like that sort of chea.j publicity.
It's all right for Miss Masters,
maybe, but just leave the Hurri
cane out of it.”
“Do you want me to run a de
nial tomorrow?" the editor asked.
“Just don't say anythin'* m* i
about it—that’s all I ask. Forget
the whole thing—let it die a nat
ural death.” I dropped the receiver
onto its hook.
The report of the Hurricane’s
rumored engagement, I found later
had spread like wildfire across the
country To deny it would only
cause further glaring publicity, so
Billy Allen and I decided to keep
quiet. We made p’ans to leave Los
Angeles and to head back for the
East Coast.
But meanwhile, Billy had a bril
liant idea. Jack Dempsey, the
great one himself, was in Reno. !
vada. at the time, trying to stage
some sort of a comeback. He ap
peared to be ready and willing to
take on all contenders—for a price.
Billy decided that a victory over
Jack was just wh.it the Hurricane
needed to be .ter his already ex
cellent reputation. So on the way
East, wc stopped off at Reno.
Billy dropped m to see Jacks
manager and asked for a flight. He
painted the Hurricane in glowing
colors and showed him the record
our t ly had compiled In the ten
months he had worked for us.
"The Hurricane can lick Demp
sey any day in the week,” Billy
went on earnestly. "You come
around at. look him over, give us
the fight, and clean up any way
you want to. But—give us the
fight.”
“Go out and get yourselves a
reputation,” Jack’s manager growl
ed at us. “How do you expect me
to believe all that stuff you're
handin’ out?”
And for a week that was all we
got out of the Manassa Mauler’s
manager. Of course, we could un
derstand his attitude, and didn’t
blame him a bit for ‘he stand he
had taken. Dempsey was on his
way up the ladder again, and his
opponents had to be hand-picked to
avoid a calamity. One setback, espe
cially at the hands of some un
known, might even ruin his repu
tation entirely. The great Jack
couldn't afford to take any chances.
We stayed around Reno two
weeks, the Iluricane meanwhile go
ing through his regular daily rou
tine in a small gymnasium which
Billy hired for the purpose, waiting
for a more definite reply to our
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challenge. Then finally it came.
We met the Mauler’s manager at
the Gloved Hand Club, and made
terms.
“I guess you can have the scrap,
if you’re so hot after i.,” Jack's
manager said. “The Kid needs the
money badly, and he's ready to
fight anybody, almost. All he
wants is an 8o-15 split of the gate,
85 to the winner and 15 to the loser,
or a 70-30 break, win, lose, or
draw.”
“I see,” said Billy.
“Well, do you think you'll take
us up?”
“I sure will!” Billy grinned. "Well
take the 85-15, and we’ll let you
pick your own referee. That O.K?”
“O.K.,” replied the other. The
two men hitched up their chairs
and Billy drew up an agreement
which the other read and signed.
Two weeks later, the bout was
on!
CHAPTER VIII
"Now. Big Bo>. here's your
chance,” I told the hurricane as I
supervised the wrapping of his
hands before we went down to the
ring. "This is worth ten grand
to the winner easily, and I've got
five thousand on a side bet—on you
Clean up. and you can have a bank
account big enough to get married
and buy r. house .u the bargain.
All you've got to d<. is to look out
for his right and play for his
wind. Don't bother with his face—
you can't hurt it \:ith an axe. But
make him bring the fight to you—
tire him out. He's gettin’ old now,
and can - take it like he used to.”
' I get you.” the Hurricane "runt
ed. Billy Allen came hurrying in
with the news that the last pre
liminar- was over and that they
were welting for us.
We nnrehed down the aisle amid
a slavo of applau.>e and climbed
into the ring The shirt-sleeved
referee made his announcement;
the futile challenges of has-beens
and would-bes were disposed of
The preliminary had been good,
and the crowds appetite was
whetted. Dempsey was, of course,
the favorite as far as betting was
concerned, but th re were vague
whisperings of big money being bet
on the Hurricane.
Dempsey w. s undoubtedly getting
old. No one ever really believed
that he was capable of a come
back. Yet. pressed for mon •, he
had tried, and up to now had been
remarkably successful. While not
still the great boxer he had been,
he still had the old powerful right
handed kick” that did deadl. exe
cution. And here was this unknown,
with hard! • any reputation, ready
to furnish another stone upon,
which th; Mauler might step in his
path back to title heights.
There was silence for Just an In
stant as the two dressing-gowned j
figures took their places after the!
brief conference with the referee j
The ring -.-as cleared and the two
men threw off theL bathrobes and(
sat calmly while the gloves were!
being laced onto their hands. Then
the referee called them to the cen
ter again, inspected their gloves,
and sent them back to their cor
ners. Then the gong!
A hu.-led touching of gloves in
the cen' r of the ring, then Demp
sey dropped to his crouching posi
tion, h.s warthy face and cauli
flower ear sunk low on one shoul
der, his eyes squinted, half closed.
The Hurricane was standing
straight up, his left hand fully ex
tended, his right drawn far back.
He was, to all appearances, ‘‘wid?
open.”
"This guy’s easy,” I heard one of
the reporters say. “Jack’s gonna
take him for a merry ride.”
Dempsey inched forward gently
into hitting position. There was
a lithe spring and his left lead
flashed out. The Hurricane hard
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ly move l, yet the glove struck over
his shoulder and his own coun
tered heavily, but a bit too high,
under Dempsey’s arm.
“Boy! Did you see that?” one
reporter was waking up now. "Some
fast action! It might even turn
into a f-ght.”
The great Dempsey grunted. He
lashed ut that right of his, and
the heavy glove apparently crashed
straight into th’ Hurricane's face.
The crowd vel’ed, bui the ringsiders
knew that when *’ blow had
landed, the black head had been
drawn back just enough to take the
force out. And they guessed what
the crowd didn't knov -that the
lashing return had made Demp
sey's head ring as it had not rung
since Gene Tunney had him down
for the long count in Chicago some
years before.
There were only two telling blows
struck during that round. Both
men were holding in, feeling each
other out gently, almost timidly.
But as the scrap warmed up in the
second, both began to unleash some
of their pent-up energy, and as
round by round wei t by. the spec
tators had plenty to keep them
from being bored.
Dempsey was, it must be admit
ted. a mere shadow of his former
self; yet he landed plenty of good
hard punches. And he took plenty,
too. For the Huricane was lamming
into him with blows that really
hurt, and Dempsey wa; Just a trifle
too slew to escape their full force.
Or ra.ner, the Hurricane was just
a trifle too fast for him. The black
head mo ed, shifted, then drew
back. He watched carefully, saw
a blow coming, and took his head
out of the way bdfore it could land,
sending back a sizzling uppercut, a
jabbing counter (with his left, or
a right across which made the
Mauler grunt more than once. Oc
casionly Jack came in to mix it,
swinging two-handed, into a c inch,
struggling hard to get his old pis
ton-rod right goipg against my boy's
stomach. But always there was a
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