“That’s where those fellers are wrong,” said Mike, “I agree with Nat and Scanlon that the Eighth Avenue car barns would be the best location. The trend for amusements is to the midtown section. It will soon be the heart of the theatrical district. Everything is moving up towards Fiftieth Street.” Thus did this man of foresight visualize New York’s future. The job of negotiating for the land was turned over to Jacobs. According to fable, the Garden was financed by a group of 600 millionaires, each of whom contributed the sum of $1,000. The fact is that $5,600,000 was required for the building and the car barns, and Jacobs manipulated the deal whereby Rickard obtained the funds. After giving Rickard his first $25,000 to turn over to Judge Mayer to show good faith in the proposed purchase, Mike negotiated a bank loan for Tex for an additional $100,000 to start the ball rolling. It was not until then that a six-man syndicate headed by banker Richard F. Hoyt, came in, with the rest of the money. As for the 600 millionaires, they each put up $1,000 at a later date to become life members of the Garden Club. In return for their money, they also were given stock. Mike Jacobs, as Rickard’s agent, was handsomely rewarded for his loan and his very important part in the negotiations. He told me his prize totalled $117,000. It was only after the property had been bought that it became known that Rickard had been working on a “shoestring” and that had it not been for Jacobs, he would never have been able to put over the deal. As for Scanlon, the man who originated the idea and who with me, had the first plans for the new Garden drawn up, I don’t know whether he ever got any money from Rickard, but I received from Tex the sum of $2,500 and some stock, in settlement for my claim against him—small amount, to be sure, but being friendly with Tex, I decided not to press the issue. That’s the story of how the present Garden came to be, a story of intrigue that made Tex Rickard and Mike Jacobs millionaires. [Illustration: 14] DESTINY’S PARTNERSHIP As surely as there is a tide in the affairs of men, there are men marked out by fate to be carried by that tide to fame and fortune. All the forces of destiny seem to conspire to give them the breaks. Such a man was Tex Rickard. George L. “Tex” Rickard, boxing’s man of destiny, died on January 6, 1929, at the age of fifty-eight. I knew him intimately for a quarter of a century. I wrote the story of his life and acted in a confidential capacity for him on many occasions. I have no hesitation in saying that he was one man in a hundred million marked out by fate. President of Madison Square Garden, acknowledged king of the boxing world, Tex Rickard lived long enough to put the fight game on the big financial map and to make himself and many other people millionaires. The Grim Reaper claimed him just as he was about to retire and, for the first time in his career, enjoy himself by taking things easy.