Yes, a complex character was this many-sided guy off the Coney Island beats. And no matter what my grievances were against him, I always had a fond spot in my heart for him. It’s not likely that we’ll have his like again in the promotion field for many years. BOOK FOUR [Illustration] [Illustration: 17] DONNYBROOKS The drama of American sport is superlative. Each branch has a thrilling story of its own, but for pulse-stirring interest, boxing is matchless. It is a game of contest and contact, of skill and stamina, of perseverance and grit—a battle between men. It has its romance, glamour, spectacular endings, and feats of unusual courage that make it an ever brilliant picture. They can all be listed under one title, “Fights I Cannot Forget,” and of these I shall select a few. One of my favorite fighters, most of whose bouts I reported, was Leach Cross. Few fighters in my experience have had a more brilliant career or fought as many tough battles. He was one of the standard bearers of boxing in New York in both the club membership and Frawley Law days. Leach, more than any other exponent of fisticuffs, popularized the sport among the Jews in his city and created sectional rivalry that often resulted in neighborhood fights. Through Leachie, thousands of New Yorkers who might never have followed boxing, became ardent fans who were largely responsible for the success of club membership shows before the sport was legalized in New York. His success blazed the trail for Benny Leonard, Ruby Goldstein and Sid Terris, among others. Cross and I were neighborhood buddies. I admired him for his fighting qualities. Of all of Leach’s fights, I pick that with Joe Bedell on March 16, 1911 at the old Clermont Avenue Rink in Brooklyn, as his best. I saw Cross in most of his fights, but never in one so fast and furious as the Bedell affair. Leach had Bedell down twice, but after the second knock-down he pulled a boner. Thinking he had his opponent ready for the kill, he tore in wide open and Bedell met his rush with a blow that came up from the floor and landed Cross on the canvas with a thud. The bell saved him. After being carried to his corner, restoratives put Leach in condition to resume when the next round got under way. His fighting instinct alone enabled him to carry on through the eighth round, but in the ninth he went down again. Hopelessly beaten as he came out for the final session, Cross feigned grogginess—his favorite stunt—and, though weak, he maneuvered his tormentor into position for the shot that brought victory. It was a powerful smash to the jaw. Bedell went down, face forward, and was counted out.