Tex answered: “Can guarantee only one fight with option. Will pay full expenses. You advance trip tickets.” That didn’t appeal to me nor to Buelow. I wasn’t the promoter and didn’t cherish the idea of advancing fares. Rickard’s gambling spirit, I thought, apparently had deserted him. I cabled back: “You’re making mistake. Schmeling is the goods. Can’t miss. Looks like coming heavyweight champion.” But Rickard was adamant. He turned down the terms with this cable: “Too much involved financially for the risk. Have him pay own fare. I’ll refund after signing contract.” But Max and Buelow had no money. Both were keenly disappointed. I engaged passage for New York and asked the fighter and manager not to make any arrangements for a trip abroad until they again heard from me. They agreed. In the meantime, in order to keep Schmeling busy, Buelow pitted him against the top fighters of Germany and several from France. After winning the light heavyweight crown from Hein Domgoergen in Leipzig, he won a ten-rounder from Gypsy Daniels of England but met with a severe setback when he was knocked out by Daniels in the opening round of a return bout. Rickard seemed to have lost all interest in the German following that disastrous affair. But I did not. I still had faith in Schmeling and so told Tex. I pleaded Max’s cause but without success. In the meantime Ishmael Pace, successful Buenos Aires promoter, cabled Buelow to bring Max to South America. Buelow, true to his promise, held off pending final word from me regarding the negotiations with Rickard. A few weeks passed, when to my surprise, I received a message asking that I meet Max and Arthur at a Hoboken pier. They had scraped enough together to make the trip across the Atlantic without Rickard’s help, so confident were both that the fighter could make good. But there was still another hurdle to jump. In his fight with Diener, Max had hurt his hand. He was very much in need of financial aid and was undecided whether to endanger his future by accepting one fight or to wait until the break had mended. I urged the latter course and sent him to Dr. Fralick, a bone specialist. Then I took him to the Garden to introduce him to Rickard and his matchmaker. Tex studied the handsome boy carefully. He took a liking to the German lad and agreed to sign him for a fight with Joe Monte, a ten round match. But now we faced more difficulties. Max had heard reports abroad of poor decisions in America and sought protection. He insisted that he would fight only if I agreed to become his co-manager with Buelow. Of course I refused. He and Buelow came to my office the following day and pleaded with me. “If you don’t accept,” said Buelow, “Max will go home. He doesn’t want to box here if you don’t help me handle his affairs. He is afraid that the breaks will be against him if he hasn’t an American to see that he is fairly treated.”