The search was on for a “white hope” to relieve Johnson of his heavyweight crown. From every part of the world big, husky, burly men were brought to America in the hope that they would meet the requirements and bring back the championship to the Caucasian race. Some of these had a knowledge of boxing, while others, drawn mostly from farms, lumber camps, and crowded cities, were at least willing to give it a try. The best of a select gathering was Luther McCarty, but he died tragically while boxing Arthur Pelkey in Calgary, Canada. The one outstanding remaining heavyweight was Big Jess Willard, who was known as the Pottowatomie Giant. Brawny and powerful, this six-foot five-inch cowboy had defeated Gunboat Smith and Boer Rodel, had knocked out Bull Young, who had died shortly after from his punishment, and had fought no-decision bouts with Pelkey, Carl Morris and McCarty. Jack Curley, a famous promoter and manager, backed by Harry Frazee, a theatrical producer, conceived the idea to pit Willard against Johnson. He was confident that Big Jess could wrest the title from the Negro and after considerable difficulties with the laws of Mexico, our country and Cuba, he finally succeeded in overcoming all obstacles, and the contest was booked for the Marianao Race Track near Havana, Cuba. I was about to take my annual vacation. From 1909 through 1914, I had visited the Pearl of the Antilles nine times. I loved to visit the Island, had many friends there, and invariably paid my expenses by writing baseball and boxing articles for _El Mundo_. Naturally, I was delighted to learn that the heavyweight championship would be decided there. I had no trouble convincing Jim Price, sports editor of my paper, that the assignment to cover the battle belonged to me. I left New York a fortnight before Willard and his trainer, Tex O’Rourke arrived, and set myself up at the Palace Hotel which Johnson made his Havana headquarters. Jack and I had been friends for many years. He was an arrogant man, but I liked him despite the many bad marks he had against him. However, I felt that the easy life he had led, his carousing in France and Argentina, had softened him and that Willard, if in condition, should emerge a winner. “You’ll have to work like a beaver to get into physical condition, Jack, Willard is no slouch,” I told him. He laughed this off. He hadn’t done any training for a long time, and he figured he didn’t have to do much for Willard. What happened later proved the fallacy of his contention. He lost the title, but there is more to the story of that defeat than Johnson s overconfidence or lack of training. There was the Black Omen.