“O.K., Mike,” I replied. “But what about my Adam Hats commissions? You can’t back away from that.” But he did. He had no scruples and was out to save what he owed me in an honorable business deal. “There’s nothing due you on the Adam Hats contract,” he snapped. “I could have gotten that without your help.” I was flabbergasted. Runyon was present and I asked him if he thought the deal I was getting was fair. “Certainly not,” he answered. “You are entitled to every penny due on that contract.” Damon fought my case but without success. So did the other two partners—Bill Farnsworth, sports editor of the New York _Journal_, and Ed Frayne, sports editor of the New York _American_—but Mike had his way and I left in a huff. Mike and I were not on speaking terms for many months, but I wouldn’t sue because I had been his friend for three decades. On one occasion he encountered me in Childs Restaurant near the Hippodrome and sat down at my table. “Nat, you and I have been friends for many years,” he said. “Why not continue?” He held out his hand to bind our reconciliation, then took ten one hundred dollar bills and placed them before me on the table. “Take these and let’s call it quits. There’s no reason for us being enemies,” he remarked. “I don’t want your money, Mike. You went back on our agreement.” I shoved the bills toward him. “You probably need that money more than I do,” I said quietly as I left the table. I took our break as one of those things that happen now and then between friends and decided to forget it and start anew. Although there was plenty of good in the make-up of this world-famous promoter, there was much that could be held against him. He wasn’t what I would call a man of honor. On the other hand, in all my business dealings with Rickard, I never once knew him to renege on a promise, though he did cross me on the Garden building proposition. Despite his shortcomings, I liked Jacobs, I got a thrill out of his promotions and enjoyed his company on the many trips I took with him, strange as that may seem in light of our unhappy business relationship. Between what he owed me on the Adam Hats contract, and what was due me on the agreement we made on the Farr-Louis match, I figured Uncle Mike reneged on close to $30,000. * * * * * The story of how Tommy Farr got a chance at the heavyweight championship is the perfect example of the science of manipulation expertly applied. Mike’s shrewd chessboard play enabled him to outguess and outsmart his rivals by such a wide margin that, in the parlance of the sports world, it was “no contest.” What he did was well within the law, although his maneuvering did bring about court action. The results, however, were in Jacobs’ favor.