CHAPTER X.

The Gymnasium Business--Life in Rochester--First Meeting of Hogan and Tom Allen--A Disgraceful Affair.

Our hero's next exploit was in Geneva, which town he visited for the purpose of meeting Dempsey, a local pugilist of some reputation.

It was arranged that a sparring match between the two should take place, so that Dempsey's friends might decide whether they were willing to back their man against Hogan.

The exhibition was very largely attended, and excited a good deal of interest. When the men made their appearance they were greeted with applause, and their movements were closely watched. Ben had made up his mind that he would let Dempsey get the best of the match, in order that a fight might be brought about. This little game would probably have worked but for the fact that there were some among the spectators who knew Ben, and knew also what he could do. When these friends saw Hogan playing off, and permitting himself to be knocked down by Dempsey, they began to cry out:

"Hold on, Hogan. That won't do!"

Of course Ben, finding himself discovered, was obliged to handle his fists with his usual skill, and this not only knocked Dempsey, but likewise the match, into a cocked hat. Nobody was willing to back the Geneva boy, and the fight accordingly fell through. However, the sparring exhibition yielded about four hundred dollars, so that the trip was not a failure.

Soon after this, Ben, in company with Snatch Murray, went to Buffalo and gave an exhibition in that city. Mackey was in the town then, training a man to fight Cummings, and having failed, as we know, to get the Rochester champion in the ring, Hogan contented himself by fighting Mackey. The battle lasted through only four rounds, at the end of which time Mackey had got enough. Indeed, he had got too much.

Hogan's reputation throughout the central and western portions of New York had become so well established by this time, that the rumor was common that he could whip any man in Rochester, Buffalo or Syracuse. Certain it is that there appeared to be nobody in those cities who seemed anxious to meet Ben in the P. R.

Cast-Iron Collins, as he was called, came to the front for a short time, and a fight was arranged between him and Hogan. But while Ben was in training, Collins backed out, thus showing that the sort of cast-iron of which he was made was not of a very reliable nature.

After a sojourn of some time in Buffalo, Ben returned to Rochester. He struck the latter city with the idea of opening a place--and he had no way of doing it except with a crowbar. He did not resort to this method, however, preferring to use his wits instead.

Hiring a vacant store, he went to work to fix it up as a gymnasium. It may be remarked, incidentally, that whenever Ben has been hopelessly "broke," he has invariably resorted to the gymnasium as a means of raising the needful. This Rochester venture did not cost him very much at the outset. He got everything on credit; stocked the bar by credit and paid people--on credit. Nobody can say that this was not a perfectly credit-able proceeding on Ben's part.

The project proved a big success, and business increased so rapidly that Ben finally concluded to take in a partner. Some laughable incidents occurred during this period in Rochester.

Ben drove a handsome team of horses, which he hired for the season, and which gave him the appearance of a man of wealth. While out driving he frequently met the farmers coming into the city with loads of wood. Purely for the deviltry of the thing, Ben stopped one of these rustics one day, told him that he would buy his wood, and directed him to leave it at a given address. The farmer, thinking that he had made a good bargain, did as Ben told him, taking the latter's word that he would "settle with him in a day or two."

As soon as the wood had been delivered, Ben had it immediately sawed and split, so that by the time the farmer called around for his money, it was all piled away. The man was naturally mad, but he was informed that he might take his wood back if he wanted it, only he must first pay for the sawing and splitting. The price charged for this work was fixed at the modest sum of twenty dollars--which was twice as much as the wood had originally cost.

Believing that he had been swindled, the farmer had Ben arrested, but, as our hero was able to show that he was not worth a dollar, and that he owed more people than he could remember, there was little satisfaction to be got out of the law. Hogan sent the wood to a needy family, and enjoyed the little joke immensely.

If he did this thing once, he did it a dozen times, always sending what he got from the prosperous farmers to the poor of the city. When he happened to meet one of his victims on the road, he would draw up most politely, and say:

"Ah, that little bill of yours! I had forgotten all about it. Call around at my place when I am in!"

And with that he would touch up his horses, and go whirling away.

The trouble was that whenever the farmers did call around at his place, Ben was sure to be out. That was one of his fixed rules.

On another occasion, the man whom Ben had "stood up" for his cigars, came to him and wanted some money the worst way. Ben learned that this man was owing a number of his employees, and that the workmen could not get their pay. He entered into an agreement with some of the hands, whereby they might get a part of what was due them. When the cigar manufacturer came in, Ben laid down thirty dollars on the bar, saying:

"There you are, sir!"

But before the dealer could pick up the money, it had been snatched by the workmen, as Ben knew it would be, and the manufacturer never saw a dollar of it again.

By way of comforting the fellow for his loss, Hogan proposed a little game of faro, and bled him out of what money he had. But the chap made himself more than solid by afterward bucking against a square game.

On still another occasion a pork dealer came into Ben's place, who had heard a good deal about the notorious Hogan, and who was anxious to see him. Ben was present at the time and at once met his rural visitor with the utmost politeness.

"Be you Hogan?" asked the dealer in hogs.

"No, sir," answered Ben, promptly. "Mr. Hogan is not in just at present; but I am a pupil of his."

"Waal, neow!" said the countryman. "I thought I'd jest drop in here to see what was going on, you know. I used to box a little myself."

"Well, I'm not much in that line," remarked Ben, modestly, "but suppose we have a little set-to, just for fun."

This was agreed to, and the pork dealer put on the gloves. For a time Ben let him get the best of it, merely warding off the blows, without trying to get in any himself. Then he proposed that they should bet the drinks on the first blood. The countryman thought he would have to try it once, whereupon Ben braced up and planted one on his opponent's smeller, which caused the claret to flow copiously.

"Waal, neow; you got me that time!" exclaimed the countryman. "Suppose we try it once for the first knock-down?"

As may be easily guessed, it didn't take Ben but a precious short time to lay out his antagonist, and after the two rounds of drinks had been ordered and paid for, Hogan told the pork dealer who he really was. Of course it surprised him, but not quite as much as did another discovery which he afterward made, and which will be described hereafter.

During Ben's stay in Rochester he had his first public association with Tom Allen. Allen turned up in the town and gave a sparring exhibition along with Shedder and Bill Riley, the entertainment closing with a set-to between Hogan and Allen.

This was the first meeting of the men, and it is well to note that Ben gave his opponent more than he wanted.

Charley Perkins, who is known among sporting men, from his connection at one time with Heenan, offered to back Ben for one thousand dollars against Allen. A challenge to this effect was sent to _The New York Clipper_, accompanied by the requisite deposit.

It chanced that after the challenge had been sent, Cummings fell in with Perkins, and told him that he (Cummings) could lick Hogan or Perkins either.

Perkins reminded the windy Cummings that he had seen Hogan offer to fight him in Rochester for anything from five hundred dollars to a chew of tobacco, and instead of accepting the offer, Cummings had slunk away, and had had Hogan arrested. As for whipping him (Perkins) he did not believe that Cummings or any of his tribe could successfully undertake that job.

The hot words very soon led to arguments of a more forcible nature--in other words, the men resorted to their fists. Perkins knocked Cummings down twice in quick succession. Then Cummings, who entertained some curious ideas of the pugilistic art, finding that he could not fairly whip his opponent, bit off a part of Perkins' nose.

This disgraceful proceeding naturally aroused much indignation in Rochester. It was, indeed, the excitement growing out of the affray which put an end to the proposed fight between Hogan and Allen. Other explanations than this have been offered, and it has been openly asserted that Hogan weakened. The simple statement of facts here given should serve to quiet all such stories in the future.

As soon as Hogan had heard of the cowardly attack made upon his friend, he resolved to seek revenge. He hurried to the house in which Cummings was living, but unfortunately was followed by two officers who had been detailed to watch his movements. As soon as he entered the house he was ordered to leave it. Seeing how useless it would be to oppose the power of the law, he left Cummings unpunished.

Space prevents the further description of Ben's adventures at this time, save to recount the manner in which he left the city.

The pork dealer, to whom reference has already been made, happened to drop in a second time, having with him a load of dressed hogs. Ben greeted him with great cordiality, asked him how he was getting along, and expressed deep interest in the subject of hogs. After one or two sociable drinks, our hero surprised his visitor by offering to buy his entire load of pork.

"I will give you," said Ben, "six and a fourth cents a pound," (this was about the market price) "and you may come in to-morrow for your money."

This proposition was joyfully accepted by our rural friend, who considered the promise of so high-toned a gentleman as Ben quite as good as the money in hand. The value of the pork at the proposed price was two hundred and thirty dollars. Congratulating himself upon having made a first-class bargain, the countryman withdrew--not however until he had drunk Ben's good health in a bottle of champagne.

The gymnasium business had begun to wane in Rochester. For that reason Hogan had determined to give it up. And this resolve perhaps was hastened by his large investment in pork. He disposed of the stuff for two hundred and fifty dollars, and having got the money, shook the dust of Rochester off his feet.

That farmer is looking for him to this day, but, as he was worth forty thousand dollars, he could abundantly afford to help so worthy an object as Ben Hogan.