into a ringside seat at the Aldine A. C. in Newark at exactly 9.30, and at exactly 9.33 Joan's brother, "Young Stillwell," climbed through the ropes to earn the fifty bucks he was guaranteed for a six-round preliminary with another boloney. At exactly 9.50 I had what I firmly believed to be the next lightweight champion signed to a contract puttin' him under my management for a term of three years, subject to sister Joan's approval. There is nothin' I like so much as speed!
The "lightweight" in the opposite corner from Young Stillwell must of tipped the beam at 150 if he weighed a gram, whilst Joan's kid brother looked well under 135. He was far from handsome, accordin' to collar advertisement standards, but he sure looked beautiful to me! This baby had a pair of shoulders on him like a heavyweight, the short, thick neck, square jaw, high cheek bones, thin lips, and beetlin', rugged brow of the natural-born fighter which craves no other weapons but his hands. His legs was the muscular limbs of the distance runner and as he flexed himself against the ropes whilst awaitin' the bell, his powerful arms showed a wonderful reach. That the mob was with him was displayed when he first jumped into the ring and shed his bath robe. The first time he looked at the guy he was goin' to fight was when they shook hands in mid ring and went to work.
It was a wow of a brawl whilst it lasted, but a minute ain't very long. Never in your life have you seen such a change as come over Young Stillwell with the sound of the bell. The grin left his thin lips like magic, and he licked 'em hungrily with the snarl of a short-tempered panther. The heavy brows drawed together,
