I had heard many strange stories about the Singular Senegalese, as he was nicknamed. I learned that he drank like a fish and was an ugly customer when in his cups. I was told, before he reached America, that he wore evening dress all through the day and paraded the streets with a monkey on his shoulder. When he arrived in New York, I decided to meet him personally and find out all I could for myself. All the rumors were confirmed to my satisfaction the afternoon I came upon this extraordinary man directing traffic with his cane in the middle of 42nd Street and Broadway. He was dressed in formal evening clothes, with a flowing French cape lined with purple satin. He wore bright red gloves and gray suede shoes. A laughing crowd surrounded him. Soon the police officer, none other than big Pat McDonald, the Olympic hammer thrower, came along to inquire the cause of the traffic hold-up and the reason for the gathering. As he approached the fantastic Negro, Siki took off his high silk topper, bowed in ceremonial French style, and extended his big hand in greeting. Pat McDonald had a sense of humor. He lifted his cap, bowed in return, and took Siki’s outstretched hand. At that moment a monkey leaped from under the Senegalese’s cape to the head of the officer. There was a shriek from the crowd as McDonald almost collapsed. But he quickly recovered himself and caught Siki by the collar, bustling him away. After that, I no longer doubted the stories of his pranks. * * * * * Siki was matched to fight Paul Berlenbach. I went to the weigh-in and decided that Paul would win—if he could keep his nerve. Paul was a great fighter and was not likely to be intimidated by this imitation King Kong. Just after the weigh-in, I ran into Siki outside his apartment. He was giving the monkey an airing and was in a playful mood. He sauntered up and down the avenue, followed by a large crowd, strutting like a peacock. Suddenly he turned and said something to the monkey in French. It leaped instantly on the back of a woman in the crowd. With a shriek, the woman fainted. Siki stood grinning like an ape, but the crowd began to murmur angrily. A man out of the gathering ran towards him. The Senegalese backed away, but just at that moment a policeman came along. When he saw the cause of the trouble he whipped out his blackjack. “What are you doing with that scarecrow around here?” he demanded of Siki. “You come along with me. You’re taking too many liberties.” The officer asked the woman, who had now recovered, if she would press a charge of disorderly conduct against the Negro. Before she could decide, Siki shouted excitedly, “Eet is not my fault, gendarme, eef my monkee, he likes charming ladees!” Everybody laughed, including the policeman, and the incident was closed without further trouble.