by James G. Dow
“Well, well, look who’s here. Mickey Rutherford, the kid who coulda bin a champion. What happened to you? Where the hell have you bin?”
“Hi, Maxie – I’m sorry I ran out on you after all the work you put in on me.” Callum told Maxie the whole story about his father and the hurried return to Scotland.
“Well, now you’re back, Mickey. Are you gonna have another shot at the Golden Gloves?”
“I’ve never known why you call me Mickey.”
“Because, kid, you’re the nearest fighter I’ve seen to Mickey Walker, the old welterweight champ. You’re a natural southpaw like him and you have a killer left hook, just like he had.”
“While we’re on names, why do they call you Maxie Mosquito?”
“My real name is Moisewicz. We came from Poland. When I was fighting, nobody could spell it or pronounce it. One sports writer came up with Mosquito, because I crept up on you and drew blood – neat, huh? Now, enough with the questions already; what’s cookin?”
“You say I fight like Mickey Walker but am I good enough to turn pro?”
“Kid, if you’re as fit as you look, I could have you on the bill at the stadium on Saturday night. Chic Raines has had to pull out with a wrist injury. Yep, you could be up against Joe Solomon. He’s pretty useful, but not in your class. Whadya say?”
“Fix it up, Maxie. I need to make some money.”
“Leave it to me. By the way, your name’s too long. From now on, you’re Mickey Ford.”
At Steeler Stadium, on Saturday night, Mickey Ford sent Joe Solomon to the canvas with a left hook to the solar plexus in 61 seconds. The following Saturday, Callum faced Art Blake, a tough slogger from the Bronx. Callum, on Maxie’s advice, boxed him cleverly, taking no chances but, in the third round, saw an opportunity and put him away for the full count with another left hook.
Now, the journalists were badgering Maxie about his new sensation.
“He’s fresh out from Ireland and he’s gonna be the new Mickey Walker. Another few fights and we’ll be looking for a shot at the title. I tell you, this kid’s goin’ places.”
“Why did you tell them I was from Ireland, Maxie?”
“They love the fighting Irish here. It’s good for publicity. Just keep your mouth shut and do what I tell you. Stick with me, kid, and you’ll be wearing diamonds.”
In two months, Mickey Ford was topping the bill at the stadium and was hailed by all the sports writers as a comer. He’d won seven fights and had boxed only fourteen rounds. The locals were starting to talk about his opponents as members of ‘the bum of the week club.’
Financially, things were coming along nicely for Callum. By his calculations, in another four months, he should have made enough money for a bond on a nice apartment in a decent part of town, with enough left over for Theresa’s boat fare.
A letter from Theresa shattered his plans. “Callum, I have to tell you I’m pregnant. I’m at my wit’s end and don’t know what to do. My father will throw me out when he finds out. I’ll start to show in a month or so. Please write straightaway to me at Duff’s Haulage.”
Callum sent a telegram immediately telling Theresa not to worry, that he would be sending money soon. He went straight to Maxie. “I need more money right away. I know you’ve been looking after me, picking opponents I can beat, but it’s too slow now. My girl in Scotland is pregnant and I’ve got to find enough cash to get her here and find a decent place to live. She can’t live in the rat hole I’m renting. I’ve got to find a fight that will pay me big money. Then I can give boxing away. I hate it. She doesn’t know I’m a fighter. Besides, I haven’t got the killer instinct. I hate knocking people down. Once more, and I’m finished. What do you suggest?”
“You don’t have the killer instinct? Kid, you coulda fooled me! But if that’s true and your heart’s not in it, then you’ll never beat the top guys, so maybe you should get out. OK, here’s what we’ll do. You’re up against Henry Wills on Saturday. He’s a smart boxer but doesn’t have much punching power. You’re odds-on to win but, if you bet your savings on him, you can triple your dough. Will that get you and your girl outta trouble?”
“You’re suggesting I take a dive, Maxie? I don’t like the idea.”
“Kid, from what you’ve told me, you don’t have much choice. You’ll have to be clever, though, and make it look good. Can you manage that? You won’t be on your own. I’ll back him too! Just give me your dough and leave the details to old Maxie.”
Steeler Stadium was packed on Saturday night with fans hoping to see their boy wonder demolish Henry Wills on his way to bigger things. They knew that Mickey would have to go to Chicago or New York to further his chances of a title shot and they wanted to cheer him on his way. “Now remember, make it look good,” said Maxie. “We don’t want any inquiry when you lose.”
“I’ll be fine, Maxie. Stop nagging. I’ve got too much at stake to muck it up.”
Henry Wills was an accomplished boxer who used his ring speed to keep clear of Mickey’s left hook. After four rounds, Mickey showed signs of frustration and began to take risks, ignoring defence to get in close to land a blockbuster. In one of these forays, he walked into a straight right and went down for the count. Mission accomplished!
The Sunday papers had headlines such as;
Ford Bubble Bust!
Boy Wonder Has Glass Jaw.
The sports writers were in agreement that Mickey’s title aspirations were now on hold. Several suggested he retire immediately. All were adamant that if he couldn’t take a punch, he was going nowhere fast.
Maxie Mosquito said his boy would have a thorough medical check-up before any decisions about his future were taken.
Callum wired money to Theresa and, with help from Alexander Duff, she set sail for New York. Meanwhile, Callum leased a small, clean, furnished apartment on the edge of town but still within walking distance of Carnegie Steel. He then visited Maxie to bring him up to speed and asked him if he knew of a Catholic priest who would be prepared to marry him. Maxie quipped, “Priests are not allowed to marry, Callum. You’d be better off sticking with your girl.”
“For Christ’s sake, Maxie, can’t you be serious for a moment?”
“Sorry, Mickey – I forgot you were a dour Scot. My own parish priest, Father Zalkowski, will do the honours. You’re now living in his domain. I’ll introduce you right now. He’ll be delighted to welcome another young Catholic into the fold.”
“That could be a problem, Maxie. Theresa is a Catholic but I’m not.”
“Look, kid, this is America. Rules are made to be broken. The good Father has a big heart. He’s been through so much and seen too much human suffering to be bogged down by details like that. Unless you’re a criminal, he’s gonna help you out. Besides, I’ll vouch for your character – no worries on that score.”
“Yeah, some character. What about the dive I took for money?”
“That was Mickey Ford, kid. He took a powder. Forget him!”
Callum met Theresa at Penn Station. She looked radiant and he couldn’t wait to show her their new home. “How did you get the money so quickly, Callum? I hope you didn’t rob a bank.”
“Not quite. I’ve just been working two jobs. First things first – I want to marry you straight away. We’ve got an appointment tonight with Father Zalkowski of St Ignatius. He wants to meet you as soon as possible and, if all goes well, he’ll marry us in the vestry. I’ve already consented to our offspring being brought up Catholic.”
“Are you absolutely sure you want to be married in the Catholic Church, Callum?”
“To be your husband, Theresa, I’ll get married in the synagogue, the mosque, or the Salvation Army. I love you. These last few months have been the loneliest time of my life.”
Two days later they tied the knot in the vestry of St Ignatius. The best man was Maximilian Moisewicz and he brought along Zelda Boronski to be maid of honour. “She’s my chief cook and bottlewasher, Callum.”
“
You mean she’s your wife, don’t you, Maxie?”
“Not really. She’s my live-in housekeeper.”
“Come to think of it, Maxie,” said the priest, “I haven’t seen you at confession for a while.”
“Well, I don’t get up to much mischief these days, Father.”
“You’re incorrigible, Max. Now, we can’t have a proper wedding without a drink. It’s your turn to buy, Max. Consider it an act of contrition for all the misdemeanours you haven’t told me about. So let’s get down to the Polish Club to celebrate and give Theresa a proper welcome to the good old U.S of A.”
The months passed. Theresa was well. There were no problems with the pregnancy but she was terribly homesick for Lochside. The neighbours were hardly sighted and, on the occasions she passed them on the stair, they merely nodded and spoke in a foreign language. She felt as though she was living in a Polish ghetto. It was different for Callum. He was at work most of the time. “I’ve been working overtime, Theresa, for you and the baby. I still want to be in business for myself but it’s going to take longer now.”
When she was on her own, she often played a Harry Lauder phonograph record she’d bought at the local flea market.
It’s oh, but I’m longing for my ain folk,
Though they be but lowly, poor and plain folk.
Though I’m far across the sea, still my heart will ever be
Back home, in dear old Scotland, with my ain folk.
Theresa was well aware that the lyrics were overly sentimental, designed to bring tears. Nevertheless, the singer brought some comfort to her. After all, she was only sixteen, had never lived away from Lochside, and she doubted she would ever feel at home in this foreign land. She’d asked Mr Duff to inform her mother about her departure. The bridges had been well and truly burned. Her father would have disowned her right away but she still missed her family terribly. Nevertheless, she knew she had to accept her circumstances and was determined to give this new life her best shot. She attended mass every Sunday morning at St Ignatius and often Zelda Boronski would invite her home for lunch. Zelda was a bit of a character, always making fun of Slapsy Maxie, although her love for him was obvious. On one of these visits, Theresa asked what Maxie did for a living. “Come on, I’ll show you, Theresa.”
“Where are we going?”
“Down to the gym – it’s only a five-minute walk. Good exercise for you and the bambino.”
“Hi, Theresa,” said Maxie, “welcome to the Globe Gymnasium. Let me show you around.”
“Hello, Maxie – Callum never told me about this. What exactly do you do here?”
“Train fighters. I own this joint – bought it when I retired from the ring. I love boxing and this is my way of keeping in touch with the sport. Besides, it keeps me fit enough to defend myself against Zelda when she loses that Polish temper of hers.”
“Show her the picture gallery, Maxie.”
Theresa stared in amazement at the big photograph in the centre of the display. There was her beloved Callum in an action shot knocking his opponent through the ropes. “That can’t be Callum, surely. Is this some sort of trick, Maxie?”
“That ain’t no trick photo, babe. That’s the real McCoy. Callum’s the best fighter I’ve ever trained. Surely you knew he was a boxer?”
“No, I didn’t, but I’m beginning to understand. This was his second job!”
“He coulda bin a champion, honey.”
“Why did he stop?”
“He just wanted enough dough to bring you to the States. Then I guess he gave it up so you wouldn’t worry about him gettin’ hurt. Also, I think he was kinda ashamed about bein’ a prizefighter. Who knows?”
Zelda said, “I’m sorry I brought you here, Theresa. I just naturally thought you knew. Now, I feel real bad. I hope I haven’t upset you, you know, with the baby on the way and everythin’.”
Theresa smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Zelda, I’m glad I know now. There’ll be no trouble with Callum. He must love me very much. I see the caption reads Mickey Ford. That was his fighting name?”
“Yeah, that was my idea”, said Maxie, “Man, he was really somethin’.”
“I don’t get it, Maxie. I mean, Callum’s so handsome – no cauliflower ears, no broken nose, in fact, no bruises at all. Is it really as dangerous as people make out?”
“Honey, he’s so clever and so fast that they couldn’t lay a glove on him. He’s got more chance of gettin’ injured in the steelworks than in the ring.”
With much food for thought, Theresa arrived home. “What have you been up to when I was at church, Callum?”
“Oh, I just went for a bit of a run. It was a lovely morning to be outdoors.”
“What are you training for, my love?”
“Training? No, I’m just keeping fit, Theresa.”
“I’ve been down at the Globe, Callum. I know about the boxing – why all the secrecy?”
“Oh, I didn’t think it was all that important. It’s just something I was doing for a while.”
“Now, tell me the truth. Do you miss it?”
“Well, it’s something I was good at. I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t miss using my skills now and again.”
“Did you worry about getting hurt and being unable to look after me, Callum?”
“Does your father worry about going down the pit? He risks his life every day down there but it’s the only job he knows. He just does what has to be done to put bread on the table.”
“Maxie told me you were pretty good. He said the steelworks could be more dangerous than the ring.”
“He could be right but I hope to get out of there and start up on my own some day – maybe buy my own truck.”
“Callum, I want that too and I don’t want to hold you back. Let’s have the baby next month and we’ll see how things are. Keep training. Be ready, because babies are expensive and I won’t be able to get a job for a while, so perhaps you can get back in the ring soon. Besides, Maxie will be pleased.”
“Oh right, I get it, the main thing is Maxie’s happiness.” They both laughed and relaxed after the talk, agreeing that there would be no more secrets.
On her seventeenth birthday Theresa gave birth to a baby boy in Pittsburg General Hospital. She meant to have the baby at home like they did in Scotland but the midwife, sensing complications, rushed her to hospital. After a long and painful labour, the doctor’s forceps finally produced a healthy child. Theresa was as weak as a kitten and needed a full week of recovery and care in the hospital. The birth of Martin Michael Rutherford was duly registered.
“I’m in a bit of trouble, Maxie,” said Callum. “I’ve had to borrow money from the sharks to pay the hospital bill. I reckon it’s time for me to get back in the ring.”
“You told me you were through, Mickey. You had no killer instinct – remember?”
“Jesus, Maxie, I thought you’d be pleased. Anyway, desperate men do desperate things. I’d go through a brick wall for my wife and kid. As for the killer instinct, you set ’em up and I’ll knock ’em down.”
“O.K kid, I’ll get right on to it. First, I’ll contact the press and tell ’em that Mickey Ford is back in town. That’ll guarantee a good gate and a good purse for your comeback fight.”
The sports writers, knowing that Maxie Mosquito was always good copy, crowded round him at the Globe Gym. “What about the glass jaw, Maxie?”
“The doc’s given him a clean bill of health. The kid’s ready to go again.”
“Who’s he gonna fight first up?”
“I’ve lined him up against Bushman Dempster, the wild man from Australia.”
“Gee, Maxie, he’s got a punch like Jack Dempsey. If he lands one, he’ll knock Ford into the middle of next week. You sure are takin’ a chance with your boy.”
“Well, we gotta find out one way or another whether the kid has the moxie. Dempster’s good but he’s not as fast as he was five years ago. Anyway, it should be a good contest and that’s what you guys
want, right?”
The papers had a field day. Glassman versus Bushman was the headline on the sports page of the Daily News. The general opinion was that the Australian would knock out the young Irishman and end his career once and for all. This was exactly what Maxie had planned for the press. He was certain that Mickey would be too fast and too clever for the bushman but he was delighted that the older man was odds-on with the bookies because he intended to have a substantial wager, with half the winnings going to help pay Mickey’s debt.
Ye’ll tak the high road and I’ll tak the low road,
And I’ll be in Scotland afore ye
It started off as a normal working day for the maintenance section at Carnegie Steel, although most folks had time off to celebrate the 4th July holiday. Callum and Joe Pulaski normally worked as a pair. They were the youngest and were allocated all the tasks requiring maximum strength and fitness. One of the overhead cranes had jammed and needed freeing and lubricating. The young pair edged their way along the gantry to the faulty section. The guardrail was missing, a defect which management had chosen to ignore. Joe slipped on some oil, which had leaked from the crane, and he went over the edge. Callum shot out an arm and managed to stop his fall. With sheer strength he succeeded in pulling Joe to safety but, as Joe reached the gantry, Callum slipped and plunged forty feet to the concrete floor. The rest of the crew looked on in horror. The alarm was sounded and an ambulance sent for. Callum was taken to Carnegie Hospital. He was alive but had many fractures. At the insistence of the Teamster’s Union man, a company car was dispatched to take Callum’s wife to the hospital.
Theresa was unable to contain her grief. She recalled Maxie saying that the steelworks were more dangerous than the ring and here was the proof. “Oh, Callum, Callum, can you hear me?”