In so overheated an environment, how could Max Schmeling possibly ply his trade? His tour foundered; two of the first stops, in Newark and Philadelphia, were canceled. And with the Jewish War Veterans mobilizing-"All posts are requested not to diminish vigilance, but watch newspapers and stand by prepared for instant action"-the whole exhibition schedule appeared doomed. So, too, did his fight against Braddock, unless Braddock could be enticed to Berlin. Schmeling's opening offer- Nazi Germany's, really-was $250,000, free of German taxes, to be deposited in a bank outside Germany, plus film and radio rights worth another $150,000, plus the right to help pick a referee, plus an American judge. Mike Jacobs and Madison Square Garden would be bought off for another $50,000. Schmeling also agreed to post a $25,000 bond, guaranteeing that if he won the title, he would defend it in the United States in September, against Joe Louis or anyone else. For cash-strapped Germany it was an astonishing gesture, another sign of how central the business of boxing and the heavyweight crown had become to the Nazi psyche. So as not to jinx anything, the propaganda ministry issued instructions to the German press to soft-pedal anti-Semitism for a time, "since in American boxing the Jews play a great role." The Daily Worker Daily Worker called it "the most boot-licking contract ever advanced for a title match." But Braddock was in the catbird seat, and he wanted still more. On March 21, the Nazis upped the offer to $350,000. The black press feared that Braddock was running out on Louis. But Joe Gould balked, and the Berlin fight fell through, as did Schmeling's tour. On March 23, Schmeling returned to Germany empty-handed. The propaganda ministry instructed the Nazi press to say no more about a title bout in Berlin. called it "the most boot-licking contract ever advanced for a title match." But Braddock was in the catbird seat, and he wanted still more. On March 21, the Nazis upped the offer to $350,000. The black press feared that Braddock was running out on Louis. But Joe Gould balked, and the Berlin fight fell through, as did Schmeling's tour. On March 23, Schmeling returned to Germany empty-handed. The propaganda ministry instructed the Nazi press to say no more about a title bout in Berlin.

Legend has it that Gould pulled out because of what happened when someone from Goebbels's office asked him to state his demands. He listed them-$400,000 in cash in a London bank, all expenses paid, an American referee-and all were readily agreed to. "What else?" the Nazi official asked. "We want equal rights for the Jews," was Gould's response. And the German hung up. But this was presumably just Gould boasting to Leonard Lyons of the Post. Post. The truth was surely that Gould, who once said he'd stage a fight in the Sahara if the money was right, was simply ransoming the title to the highest bidder, and in this auction, Mike Jacobs outbid Adolf Hitler. Gould, imprisoned during World War II for profiteering, had few scruples. He knew Jacobs knew that if Braddock lost to Schmeling, Germany could sit on the heavyweight crown for the best years of Louis's career, whatever assurances to the contrary Schmeling now offered. So he and Jacobs struck an extraordinary deal: Braddock would fight Louis all right, but only if Gould and Braddock collected 20 percent of the net profits from all heavyweight title fights Jacobs promoted over the next decade. For Jacobs it was costly indeed; it also attested to Louis's astronomical value. (Ultimately, the secret arrangement became known; twice, Gould took Jacobs to court to enforce it.) So Louis had his title fight- almost. With Hitler now out of the way, only Madison Square Garden, and the federal courts, could stop it. The truth was surely that Gould, who once said he'd stage a fight in the Sahara if the money was right, was simply ransoming the title to the highest bidder, and in this auction, Mike Jacobs outbid Adolf Hitler. Gould, imprisoned during World War II for profiteering, had few scruples. He knew Jacobs knew that if Braddock lost to Schmeling, Germany could sit on the heavyweight crown for the best years of Louis's career, whatever assurances to the contrary Schmeling now offered. So he and Jacobs struck an extraordinary deal: Braddock would fight Louis all right, but only if Gould and Braddock collected 20 percent of the net profits from all heavyweight title fights Jacobs promoted over the next decade. For Jacobs it was costly indeed; it also attested to Louis's astronomical value. (Ultimately, the secret arrangement became known; twice, Gould took Jacobs to court to enforce it.) So Louis had his title fight- almost. With Hitler now out of the way, only Madison Square Garden, and the federal courts, could stop it.

The Garden had steered clear of New York State's courts, evidently convinced that anything involving Schmeling would not get a fair hearing there. It went first to Miami-"Joe Louis is colored and it was easier to get an injunction against him down there," Gould theorized-and ultimately landed in federal court in Newark, where Gould's best defense was that the boycott threatened to ruin the proposed fight. Not only were three out of every four fans at title fights Jews, Gould asserted, they sat in the most expensive seats. To prove it, Gould's legal team canvassed the garment district, collecting signatures on prefabricated affidavits from executives at places such as Blessed Event Dresses and Maywine Frocks. All confirmed how they usually bought chunks of tickets but wouldn't if Schmeling were on the card. The Garden countered that anti-Nazi sentiments were nothing new. And if they were so serious, how could the Louis-Schmeling fight have produced a $550,000 gate? For every Jew who spurned the contest, it predicted, an extra Irishman or German American would go. That the matter would end up in court disgusted a sports press still pretending that "the sports pages are for sports" and that lawyers should never be in the mix. But some felt the Garden was simply trying to preserve its authority; it, too, knew that a Braddock-Schmeling fight was a dog, and half hoped it wouldn't have to stage it.

America's growing hostility made Schmeling an even greater hero at home, if that was possible. On April 15, a few days after boxing was made a mandatory part of physical education for all German boys thirteen and older-"The Fuhrer doesn't want soft mamma's boys but real men," the head of German boxing, Franz Metzner, explained-Schmeling refereed a boxing benefit at the Sportpalast in Berlin. The affair was sponsored jointly by the local government and Kraft durch Freude, the social club the Nazis organized for German workers, and benefited the Winterhilfs-werk. Before six thousand cheering fans, Schmeling was made "German Champion in All Classes," a newly devised title he would hold until retirement. For Schmeling and the regime, all bygones were bygones; "the wonderful style of his victory over Louis has left behind anything in the past that might have been divisive," one paper reported. "Max Schmeling has long deserved such a distinction, after having to make his way through a swamp of undeserved insults in earlier years," Metzner told the crowd. "They never understood that this Max Schmeling wasn't fighting for himself alone; rather he was also a pioneer for his Fatherland outside the borders of the homeland." There were "storms of applause" when Schmeling collected his award.

A few days earlier, Schmeling had talked with Goebbels about his troubles getting Braddock into the ring. "Braddock is a coward, and continually searching for new excuses," Goebbels wrote afterward in his diary. "I advise Schmeling to publicly challenge him in an open letter, which must be very carefully formulated. That should work." But Braddock was unapologetic. "I'm not going to sacrifice my family just to please some fighter who never in his ring career has done anything to please anybody but himself," he said. Most Americans sympathized with that; despite its well-established loyalty to Louis, even the Daily Worker Daily Worker liked Braddock, "a longshoreman who proudly carries a union card" and "a really swell guy" who'd refused "to scab on the fans' anti-Nazi boycott." Only the black papers were unimpressed; Louis, they pointed out, was Braddock's meal ticket. "Braddock looks upon Louis as his chance to cash in at least a half million smackers before being overtaken by age and defeat," the Associated Negro Press said. liked Braddock, "a longshoreman who proudly carries a union card" and "a really swell guy" who'd refused "to scab on the fans' anti-Nazi boycott." Only the black papers were unimpressed; Louis, they pointed out, was Braddock's meal ticket. "Braddock looks upon Louis as his chance to cash in at least a half million smackers before being overtaken by age and defeat," the Associated Negro Press said.

In April 1937 heavyweight championship boxing became a three-ring circus. The world's three top heavyweights all began training, but only two of them would actually square off. Braddock was in Grand Beach, Michigan. His camp was a characteristically down-to-earth, casual operation, with the titleholder eating and sleeping with his sparring partners and dispensing with bodyguards. "If the heavyweight champion can't protect himself he must not be much of a champion," Gould mused. Louis was in Kenosha, Wisconsin, where he was welcomed after the local homeowners' association in nearby Lake Geneva, composed mostly of wealthy Chicagoans with summer homes, objected to his training there. "The ugly monster of race prejudice ... has come out in the open against Joe Louis and his handlers," one black weekly reported. And Schmeling was in Speculator, New York, the picturesque town in the northern Adirondacks where Tunney had trained and Baer had communed with the trees before losing to Louis.

In the wee hours of April 27, a delegation from the German boxing federation saw an unusually chipper Schmeling off into what Box-Sport Box-Sport called his "journey into the unknown." By the morning of May 3 he was once more back in New York, but only after he'd dodged a hydrogen-filled bullet. called his "journey into the unknown." By the morning of May 3 he was once more back in New York, but only after he'd dodged a hydrogen-filled bullet.* The next day, with what some thought were tears in his eyes, Schmeling pleaded with the commission to protect his fight with Braddock. It did nothing. The action then shifted to the United States District Court, where, nine days later, Judge Guy Fake ruled that Braddock was free to fight Louis. Unless an appeals court reversed, or the commission intervened, the fight in Chicago was on. In Germany honor always came first, a disgusted The next day, with what some thought were tears in his eyes, Schmeling pleaded with the commission to protect his fight with Braddock. It did nothing. The action then shifted to the United States District Court, where, nine days later, Judge Guy Fake ruled that Braddock was free to fight Louis. Unless an appeals court reversed, or the commission intervened, the fight in Chicago was on. In Germany honor always came first, a disgusted Box-Sport Box-Sport declared, but Mammon controlled American boxing. And cowardice. "I've told you again and again, don't box against Schmeling," Braddock's manager scolded him in a cartoon appearing in a Berlin newspaper. "A broken word hurts a lot less than a broken jaw!" declared, but Mammon controlled American boxing. And cowardice. "I've told you again and again, don't box against Schmeling," Braddock's manager scolded him in a cartoon appearing in a Berlin newspaper. "A broken word hurts a lot less than a broken jaw!"

As Schmeling prepared for a fight that would almost surely never come to pass, the American press disparaged him mercilessly. Underlying the ridicule was disdain for Schmeling's stereotypical German punctiliousness. He was training for "the shadow-boxing championship of the universe," the Mirror Mirror said. When the said. When the Herald Tribunes Herald Tribunes Caswell Adams visited Schmeling in Speculator, he found him reading German studies of American society. "Evidently Max is trying to fathom these people who have ditched him," Adams wrote. With almost comical dutifulness, Schmeling stuck to his regimen. He never drank coffee while training, for instance, but one morning there was nothing else to drink, and his host urged him to make an exception; what difference would it make? Schmeling demurred. "If I make excuses this time maybe I make them again another time," he explained. Caswell Adams visited Schmeling in Speculator, he found him reading German studies of American society. "Evidently Max is trying to fathom these people who have ditched him," Adams wrote. With almost comical dutifulness, Schmeling stuck to his regimen. He never drank coffee while training, for instance, but one morning there was nothing else to drink, and his host urged him to make an exception; what difference would it make? Schmeling demurred. "If I make excuses this time maybe I make them again another time," he explained.

The charade played out. Hellmis arrived to broadcast the fight that would not be held. Ticket sales exceeded all expectations, Parker wrote: someone actually bought one. In fact, by June 1 fifty-four tickets had been sold-"a fair indication of just how many curio collectors there are in this city." (They got a bonus: Schmeling's name was misspelled.) The Garden announced the undercard for the evening, which featured real-life heavyweights like Tony Galento and Jersey Joe Walcott. Meantime, lawyers for the Garden argued their appeal before a panel of three federal judges in Philadelphia. Braddock, a "mediocre boxer" the Garden had lifted off the breadline, was morally obliged to keep his word, one of them argued.

As fight day in New York approached, the hilarity only grew. There were imaginary interviews with Schmeling's spectral opponent; the Daily Worker Daily Worker ran a head shot-a blank square-of "Kid Ghost." Reporters talked of writing their stories in invisible ink, and filing them by Ouija board. A deaf-mute would do the play-by-play, for a broadcast going "ghost to ghost." There were predictions, including one that Schmeling wouldn't lay a glove on his adversary. "If the sports injustice weren't so great, and if Max Schmeling, who really has entirely earned his shot at the crown, weren't affected, one could laugh at these authentically American methods," ran a head shot-a blank square-of "Kid Ghost." Reporters talked of writing their stories in invisible ink, and filing them by Ouija board. A deaf-mute would do the play-by-play, for a broadcast going "ghost to ghost." There were predictions, including one that Schmeling wouldn't lay a glove on his adversary. "If the sports injustice weren't so great, and if Max Schmeling, who really has entirely earned his shot at the crown, weren't affected, one could laugh at these authentically American methods," Box-Sport Box-Sport observed bitterly. "A cabaret is nothing compared to them." Hitler and Goebbels followed events closely. "With the Fuhrer this afternoon," Goebbels wrote in his diary on May 27. "Question if we, ourselves, in the event that Braddock chickens out, should declare Schmeling world champion. I say yes to it. The Americans are the most corrupt people on earth." observed bitterly. "A cabaret is nothing compared to them." Hitler and Goebbels followed events closely. "With the Fuhrer this afternoon," Goebbels wrote in his diary on May 27. "Question if we, ourselves, in the event that Braddock chickens out, should declare Schmeling world champion. I say yes to it. The Americans are the most corrupt people on earth."

Schmeling followed his traditional prefight routine. On June 1 he broke camp, drove to New York, and checked in to the Commodore. On the eve of the fight, he gave a radio interview to Hellmis. "This fight for the fight has maybe been harder than the fight for the world championship itself," he told the German audience. "You, Max Schmeling, we wish that you'll keep calm in this struggle," Hellmis replied. "That justice will prevail, we already know. And also that the name of the uncrowned champion of the world still is Max Schmeling!" Schmeling thanked him, and sent his best wishes to his fans back home. "If I have to wait three years, eventually I'll bring the world heavyweight championship back to Germany!" he pledged. The taping complete, Schmeling followed another of his prefight rituals: going to the movies. This time it was Kid Galahad, Kid Galahad, with Edward G. Robinson as a pugnacious fight manager modeled, some said, after Joe Jacobs. with Edward G. Robinson as a pugnacious fight manager modeled, some said, after Joe Jacobs.

At ten o'clock on the night of June 3, when the bell had been scheduled to sound, Schmeling would be "the most popular man in America," Hellmis wrote in the Volkischer Beobachter. Volkischer Beobachter. He added that "those representing Schmeling's interests in America"-he couldn't bring himself to say "Joe Jacobs"-hoped that when the boxing commissioners met earlier in the day, they would strip Braddock of his title and forbid Louis to fight him. He concluded with a rant about American prejudice against Nazi Germany, ridiculing press reports suggesting "bodies of shot Jews [lying] in heaps in the tunnels of the Berlin subway" and castigating America's self-image as "the freest country in the world." (Hellmis, who had already lionized Schmeling in newspapers and magazines, on radio, and in film, would soon add a book to the canon. Titled He added that "those representing Schmeling's interests in America"-he couldn't bring himself to say "Joe Jacobs"-hoped that when the boxing commissioners met earlier in the day, they would strip Braddock of his title and forbid Louis to fight him. He concluded with a rant about American prejudice against Nazi Germany, ridiculing press reports suggesting "bodies of shot Jews [lying] in heaps in the tunnels of the Berlin subway" and castigating America's self-image as "the freest country in the world." (Hellmis, who had already lionized Schmeling in newspapers and magazines, on radio, and in film, would soon add a book to the canon. Titled Max Schmeling: The Story of a Fighter, Max Schmeling: The Story of a Fighter, it opened as Hellmis's ship headed homeward after the Louis fight, when Hellmis realized he was destined to compose "a singular song of praise" to the victor. It seemed to matter little that his victory was over "a block of wood of a primitive negro, who can't even read or write, with the exception of his name, and who when he hears the word 'Lincoln,' associates with it a beautifully varnished, shiny chrome automobile.") it opened as Hellmis's ship headed homeward after the Louis fight, when Hellmis realized he was destined to compose "a singular song of praise" to the victor. It seemed to matter little that his victory was over "a block of wood of a primitive negro, who can't even read or write, with the exception of his name, and who when he hears the word 'Lincoln,' associates with it a beautifully varnished, shiny chrome automobile.") By the day of the fight, the appeals court still had not ruled. "The greatest injustice in the history of sports," the 12 Uhr-Blatt 12 Uhr-Blatt called Schmeling's fate. It was already a day of high drama: that morning in France, the Duke of Windsor was marrying the woman he loved. His timing had originally irked Joe Jacobs-"We set our date last winter and here [he] comes along and grabs it for his wedding. It ain't right. It'll kill our publicity"- but now Edward and Mrs. Simpson could have the day to themselves. New York had a spectacle of its own: "the most titanic farce ever connected with boxing." Schmeling, characteristically, showed up for the weigh-in, at the State Building in lower Manhattan, five minutes early, and his superb condition impressed the examining physician. Fighters in the preliminary bouts also got weighed. "This here business is sorta nutty, ain't it?" one of them remarked. It was raining; someone quipped that the bad weather could affect the gate. called Schmeling's fate. It was already a day of high drama: that morning in France, the Duke of Windsor was marrying the woman he loved. His timing had originally irked Joe Jacobs-"We set our date last winter and here [he] comes along and grabs it for his wedding. It ain't right. It'll kill our publicity"- but now Edward and Mrs. Simpson could have the day to themselves. New York had a spectacle of its own: "the most titanic farce ever connected with boxing." Schmeling, characteristically, showed up for the weigh-in, at the State Building in lower Manhattan, five minutes early, and his superb condition impressed the examining physician. Fighters in the preliminary bouts also got weighed. "This here business is sorta nutty, ain't it?" one of them remarked. It was raining; someone quipped that the bad weather could affect the gate.

Everyone then proceeded to a fifth-floor auditorium, where the boxing commission pronounced sentence on Braddock and Gould. Each was fined $1,000, and Braddock was suspended in New York until he fought Schmeling. That meant, of course, that he could still fight Louis in three weeks' time, and after that, who would care whether he was suspended? It was, wrote Frank Graham in the Sun, Sun, "the consummation of as complete a rooking as any one ever received in sport." Schmeling stormed back to his hotel, leaving Jacobs-Parker called him Schmeling's "phantom manager"-and Machon to speak for him. When the press caught up with him, they saw something they had never seen before: the quintessential control freak out of control. "Bitterness is strictly a new act with Schmeling," Davis Walsh wrote. "Heretofore, he has been evasive, urbane, uninformative and slightly patronizing." "Who cares about being suspended in New York?" Schmeling thundered. "Dempsey was suspended. I was suspended before. Is that a punishment for a world champion who chickens out? What is the decision-noddings! They make a joke of the title. The championship, it is a joke. And your commission is a bigger joke. I cannot help it that I beat your Joe Louis. Louis will be your champion June 23, and I knocked Louis out. Can you figure that?" On a desk nearby was a newspaper picture of Braddock taking a shower, captioned "Chubby Champion." Schmeling grabbed it, crumpled it up, threw it on the floor, and kicked it. "That's your champion," he growled. "For two years he has not fought. Bah." Schmeling paused. "It's all my fault," he finally said. "That's what I get for knocking out Joe Louis." "the consummation of as complete a rooking as any one ever received in sport." Schmeling stormed back to his hotel, leaving Jacobs-Parker called him Schmeling's "phantom manager"-and Machon to speak for him. When the press caught up with him, they saw something they had never seen before: the quintessential control freak out of control. "Bitterness is strictly a new act with Schmeling," Davis Walsh wrote. "Heretofore, he has been evasive, urbane, uninformative and slightly patronizing." "Who cares about being suspended in New York?" Schmeling thundered. "Dempsey was suspended. I was suspended before. Is that a punishment for a world champion who chickens out? What is the decision-noddings! They make a joke of the title. The championship, it is a joke. And your commission is a bigger joke. I cannot help it that I beat your Joe Louis. Louis will be your champion June 23, and I knocked Louis out. Can you figure that?" On a desk nearby was a newspaper picture of Braddock taking a shower, captioned "Chubby Champion." Schmeling grabbed it, crumpled it up, threw it on the floor, and kicked it. "That's your champion," he growled. "For two years he has not fought. Bah." Schmeling paused. "It's all my fault," he finally said. "That's what I get for knocking out Joe Louis."

Mike Jacobs quickly tried to mollify Schmeling by promising him a bout against the winner of the Chicago fight, and Louis offered the same thing. But Schmeling would not commit himself to anything. That afternoon he was to be interviewed by NBC. The session, for which he was to receive $1,500, had been entirely scripted; Joe Jacobs and Nat Fleischer, both of whom were also incensed by what the commission had done, wrote a text for Schmeling that was essentially a toned-down version of his tantrum that afternoon. But NBC refused to let him read it over the air. The network prepared a more anodyne script, which Schmeling spurned.

On the night of June 3, newspapers were swamped with phone calls from people thinking a fight was really taking place. Dutifully, mockingly, a few intrepid reporters ventured into the rain and across the Queensboro Bridge to the Garden Bowl, just to describe the nothingness there. As one made his way, he heard shouting, applause, and music in the distance, but it was only a WPA circus in the next lot. "The sense of justice in every civilized man will rise up against this comedy," the Volkischer Beobachter Volkischer Beobachter declared. One Berlin newspaper blamed New York's Jewish governor, Herbert Lehman, for the whole fiasco, claiming he'd bought off the boxing commission. A cartoon in the declared. One Berlin newspaper blamed New York's Jewish governor, Herbert Lehman, for the whole fiasco, claiming he'd bought off the boxing commission. A cartoon in the 8 Uhr-Blatt 8 Uhr-Blatt of Nuremberg showed Braddock cowering in an outhouse, his gloves hanging forlornly on the door. "Severe diarrhea?" one man standing nearby asks. "No, Mister," another replies. "He's just scared of Schmeling!" of Nuremberg showed Braddock cowering in an outhouse, his gloves hanging forlornly on the door. "Severe diarrhea?" one man standing nearby asks. "No, Mister," another replies. "He's just scared of Schmeling!"

Schmeling would not be among those watching Louis and Braddock in Chicago. Instead, he boarded the Europa Europa for Germany on June 5 in what Grantland Rice called "the Mt. Everest of all dudgeons." "Schmeling being given the run-around by Braddock," Goebbels wrote in his diary. "The pig is too cowardly to take to the ring. Really American!" The German press was prohibited from pondering a Louis-Schmeling rematch because it would diminish the fury the Nazis hoped to stoke. The press "must continue to write in the sharpest manner about these American sports methods," Goebbels instructed. Madison Square Garden did pick up one vote from the United States Court of Appeals; Braddock had been "seduced from the path of contract duty by sordid money making promoters," one judge wrote. But he was overruled by the other two, and it was all academic anyway; the ruling came five days after Schmeling had left for Europe, with a strategic stop in London en route. for Germany on June 5 in what Grantland Rice called "the Mt. Everest of all dudgeons." "Schmeling being given the run-around by Braddock," Goebbels wrote in his diary. "The pig is too cowardly to take to the ring. Really American!" The German press was prohibited from pondering a Louis-Schmeling rematch because it would diminish the fury the Nazis hoped to stoke. The press "must continue to write in the sharpest manner about these American sports methods," Goebbels instructed. Madison Square Garden did pick up one vote from the United States Court of Appeals; Braddock had been "seduced from the path of contract duty by sordid money making promoters," one judge wrote. But he was overruled by the other two, and it was all academic anyway; the ruling came five days after Schmeling had left for Europe, with a strategic stop in London en route.

Months earlier, a Berlin paper had suggested that having been shafted by the Americans, Schmeling could fight a European like Tommy Farr, a Welshman, for the real real world championship. A few days after the phantom fight, the fuhrer of German boxing, Franz Metzner, informed one of Hitler's aides that he was going to London to take in the fight between Walter Neusel and Farr-the favorite-on June 15, and that while there, he would begin arranging for what he oxymoronically called a "world championship of the old world," pitting Farr against Schmeling. Joachim von Ribbentrop, then the German ambassador to Britain, was already on the case, and said the English had shown "the greatest interest" in the idea. Metzner told a currency official that Hitler had asked him to organize such a fight "as a counterweight against the American methods of deception." world championship. A few days after the phantom fight, the fuhrer of German boxing, Franz Metzner, informed one of Hitler's aides that he was going to London to take in the fight between Walter Neusel and Farr-the favorite-on June 15, and that while there, he would begin arranging for what he oxymoronically called a "world championship of the old world," pitting Farr against Schmeling. Joachim von Ribbentrop, then the German ambassador to Britain, was already on the case, and said the English had shown "the greatest interest" in the idea. Metzner told a currency official that Hitler had asked him to organize such a fight "as a counterweight against the American methods of deception."

Farr won the bout, with Schmeling watching alongside Ribbentrop. Already buoyed by his reception in Britain-"The incredible enthusiasm with which the fair Englishmen received him has washed away all the anger about New York's boxing swindlers," one German paper reported- he now had the Nazis' top boxing official trying to arrange for him an alternative championship. In fact, the Nazis were already portraying him as the de facto world champion, the true world champion, the "moral" world champion, and when he returned to Berlin he was greeted accordingly. A week later, Metzner wrote to officials of the International Boxing Union, the British Boxing Board of Control, and their counterparts in Belgium, Spain, and Italy, urging them to break "the arrogant monopoly" of American boxing. By the end of June, Metzner reported to Tschammer und Osten that the BBBC had fallen in behind the scheme and that the IBU would soon follow suit. "The European front of unity against American gangsterism was able to be established," he exulted.

Schmeling had already cabled Joe Jacobs, who was in Chicago for the other championship fight, and declared that he was done with America. Jacobs was asked if he thought Schmeling was serious. "You can bet all the tea in China he is," replied Jacobs, who saw his meal ticket floating away before his very eyes. "When he makes up his mind on something it stays made up."

* Schmeling had originally planned to travel to America via the Schmeling had originally planned to travel to America via the Hindenburg, Hindenburg, arriving on May 7. But at Joe Jacobs's insistence-Jacobs wanted him in New York when the boxing commission met on May 4 -he had departed earlier by boat. The dirigible, minus Schmeling, blew up as it arrived in New Jersey; thirty-six of the ninety-seven passengers and crew died. Among the dead was the heir to Schmeling's ticket. arriving on May 7. But at Joe Jacobs's insistence-Jacobs wanted him in New York when the boxing commission met on May 4 -he had departed earlier by boat. The dirigible, minus Schmeling, blew up as it arrived in New Jersey; thirty-six of the ninety-seven passengers and crew died. Among the dead was the heir to Schmeling's ticket.

Banishing Jack Johnson's Ghost

SHORTLY BEFORE THE L LOUIS-BRADDOCK FIGHT, perhaps as he was about to board the train for Chicago, Grantland Rice talked to a redcap at Grand Central Terminal. "Joe Louis was a great fighter when he was tearing three chickens apart," the man told him. "But now, he's eating chicken en casserole, and I'm afraid he won't do much. I'm afraid Joe's gone soft." Rice agreed. Strictly as a physical matter, Louis should win in five rounds, he believed. But mentally and psychologically Louis wasn't even close to Braddock, and Braddock was no Aristotle. "The Schmeling fight almost wrecked Louis," Rice warned. "When anyone throws a right now, Louis begins to duck before the punch starts."

As the comic opera of the phantom fight played out in New York, Louis and Braddock quietly trained. Braddock was as he always had been: shopworn but scrappy, rusty but determined. The more interesting issue was which Louis would be on hand-the wunderkind or the busted phe-nom. The question hung over his camp in Kenosha like the smoke from the nearby car plants. The newsreels showed mobs of happy white children clustered around him. In twelve years of school, Roy Wilkins observed, those same youngsters would never learn a good thing about Negroes, but Joe Louis was real to them-a "living argument against the hypocrisy, meanness, and hatred of the color line in America." Thousands of Chicago blacks hopped on special trains to watch Louis practice. One, a paraplegic who had not left his hospital in three years, arrived by ambulance and watched his hero while propped up on a stretcher.

Louis insisted he would not make the same mistakes he had made a year earlier, and that even if he did, Braddock was no Schmeling; it took Schmeling sixty swings to knock him out, he said, and Braddock was only half as strong. Already, Louis and his handlers were anticipating Schmeling. Louis said he wanted to fight him in the fall, and then quit; by then he'd be earning $10,000 annually from his properties, and that would be enough. He'd already rented the camp at Pompton Lakes, and after two weeks off, he planned to train for Schmeling for the rest of the summer.

But once again, the reports from Louis's camp weren't good. He looked lethargic. He was no longer hungry-a trap, some sportswriters believed, which black fighters were particularly prone to fall into-and had gone soft and flabby. He had too much to learn and too little time to learn it, or had learned too much and had too little time to unlearn it. The Louis of old would have no trouble with Braddock, but the Louis of Kenosha was "just a cheap and sleazy road company of the original production," Jack Miley wrote in the Daily News. Daily News. His handlers had tried instilling fanciness into an instinctive fighter, and had ruined him; nobody, said Miley, "will ever be able to pound anything through his kinky skull." Louis, His handlers had tried instilling fanciness into an instinctive fighter, and had ruined him; nobody, said Miley, "will ever be able to pound anything through his kinky skull." Louis, Collyer's Eye Collyer's Eye gloated, was "going the way of nearly all negro gladiators": "Money and food have the best of him." It still picked him to win, discounting rumors that the fight was "in the bag" for Braddock. "The group of Nigger mobsters controlling the Brown Bomber was strong enough to turn thumbs down on all requests to 'do business,'" it reported. So worried was Mike Jacobs that he dispatched Harry Lenny, a savvy retired white lightweight who'd once fought Blackburn, to check Louis out. The black press once more saw the horror stories as a racist plot, and was more concerned over rumors that the Louises' marriage was foundering. "This is Joe's first romance and if it is on the rocks it is also Joe's first heartbreak, and brother, you can fight better with a broken hand than with a broken heart," warned Lewis Dial of the gloated, was "going the way of nearly all negro gladiators": "Money and food have the best of him." It still picked him to win, discounting rumors that the fight was "in the bag" for Braddock. "The group of Nigger mobsters controlling the Brown Bomber was strong enough to turn thumbs down on all requests to 'do business,'" it reported. So worried was Mike Jacobs that he dispatched Harry Lenny, a savvy retired white lightweight who'd once fought Blackburn, to check Louis out. The black press once more saw the horror stories as a racist plot, and was more concerned over rumors that the Louises' marriage was foundering. "This is Joe's first romance and if it is on the rocks it is also Joe's first heartbreak, and brother, you can fight better with a broken hand than with a broken heart," warned Lewis Dial of the Amsterdam News. Amsterdam News.

Once again, many dismissed the gloomy dispatches as Mike Jacobs's usual manipulations; Braddock was too old and had absorbed too many punches to put up much resistance. "I can think of a million things wrong with Louis," observed Jimmy Powers. "He is green. He is slow-witted. He stands like a dope when he is nailed. He has absolutely no defense against a right cross. He has had a lot of easy fights.... He can't feint, jab, block or in-fight for sour apples. A dancer, a cutie, can slap him silly." He picked Louis anyway. So did most of the experts: eighty-six out of one hundred, according to one poll. The oddsmakers favored him twelve to five, the first time since 1892 that a challenger-at least one who hadn't previously been champion-was favored over an incumbent. "Youth, speed, strength, reflexes, punishing power-with all the advantages Louis carries into action he ought to be ashamed of himself if the fight goes beyond the sixth or seventh round, because it will be the final proof that he is lacking in both smartness and courage," Rice maintained. Neither man impressed Jack Dempsey-"One guy is getting old and hasn't been in the ring for a long time. And the other guy doesn't know much and goes off his nut when you hit him in the head"-but he picked Braddock, especially if the fight lasted more than a few rounds. Braddock wasn't discouraged, for he'd been a ten-to-one underdog against Baer; odds of three to one against him, he joked, ought to make him a sure thing.

With all that preceded the match, it was easy to forget that something many had vowed would never happen again was about to: a black man stood to become heavyweight champion. Pegler once more called it insanity to stage a mixed bout in a black neighborhood; Miley warned that if Braddock won, the riots that followed the Johnson-Jeffries fight would seem like "mild contusions and abrasions" by comparison. The NAACP braced itself for a Louis win. Should that happen, Walter White advised black newspaper editors, "there should be a minimum of exultation shown." He urged his organization to mobilize ministers, social workers, and others so that a Louis victory "might be taken in its stride and not made the occasion for serious clashes." A black weekly in Nashville felt compelled to remind readers of all the whites who had befriended Louis throughout his career. "Louis will be the last colored man to get a crack at the title if you guys start painting the town," the Baltimore Afro-American Baltimore Afro-American warned. "Race pride is one thing and hooliganism is quite another," another black writer admonished. The warned. "Race pride is one thing and hooliganism is quite another," another black writer admonished. The Houston Informer Houston Informer cautioned blacks to remain calm and modest even when whites praised Louis. "A white man can say a lot more about the defeat of a white man in the presence of other white people than a Negro can, and get away with it," it explained. "The saner ones of our group can help a lot by pouring cold water on the over-enthusiasm of loud-mouthed-street-corner talkers by changing the subject or distracting the listener. Quietly work for suppression of bragging in the presence of white people." cautioned blacks to remain calm and modest even when whites praised Louis. "A white man can say a lot more about the defeat of a white man in the presence of other white people than a Negro can, and get away with it," it explained. "The saner ones of our group can help a lot by pouring cold water on the over-enthusiasm of loud-mouthed-street-corner talkers by changing the subject or distracting the listener. Quietly work for suppression of bragging in the presence of white people."

This was Chicago's first big fight since Tunney beat Dempsey there a decade earlier. Things had calmed down since those days when Al Capone still reigned and everyone seemed to pack heat. But Chicago was still Chicago. On the town with Damon Runyon, Trevor Wignall observed that everyone seemed to be named "Red," "Lefty," "Good Time Charley," or "One-Eye," and cabdrivers routinely asked fares whether they wanted additional "entertainment." The lobby of the Morrison Hotel became a temporary isthmus off Jacobs Beach. It was from there that New York sportswriters could cast their jaundiced eyes on America's second city, and describe what a hick burg it really was-a place of poor service, bored shopgirls, and conniving taxi drivers, in which even the most pretentious bars served lemon soda in their mixed drinks and ginger ale in their gin rickeys. "Chicago is one of those places good for one big splash about once in every five years," was how one veteran New York sportswriter put it.

Ticket sales lagged a bit, because of either the turmoil surrounding the fight or the high price of seats. Or maybe in Chicago people were accustomed to getting their mayhem for free. "Why pay $27.50," one New York sportswriter asked, "when you can see a massacre for nothing any time the coppers fire on the pickets? Or any time the mobsters decide to settle a territorial dispute?" Scalpers reported little business. "They ain't educated out here," one New York dealer complained.

But black America wasn't jaded. By one estimate, blacks bought three of every ten tickets, leading one writer to rechristen the fight site "Black and White Sox Park." More than five thousand blacks were due in from Detroit on three special trains. Another large contingent came from Harlem, "and among all of these you find not only the notables, but Shoeshine Sams, hoboes, and others whose exchequer is very limited," one black journalist wrote. Three hundred people boarded a train from Memphis. From Kansas City there was a $21 special. From Houston the "Joe Louis Special," sponsored by the local black weekly, cost $35, but that included round-trip fare, fight tickets, a night's lodging, a meal, "a good time en route"-and precious peace of mind.* Whites could also come, in a separate whites-only car. Whites could also come, in a separate whites-only car.

Some blacks still suspected the fight was fixed, that "Washington" had decided America was not yet ready for another black champion or that fight bigwigs, fearing the heavyweight division would shrivel up if Louis won, had made sure he wouldn't. Black fans hounded Mike Jacobs for assurances that things would be legitimate. Adding to the unease was the nagging sense that Louis wasn't Louis anymore. When he visited Harlem, Ted Poston of the New York Post New York Post-the first black reporter hired by a mainstream New York newspaper-was struck by how many people had stuck around. Anxiety or poverty had kept some of them home; others had had their fill of trains when they'd left the South. Not that people weren't following the fight: as it approached, one store owner said he'd fixed more radios in the past two days than in the previous three months.

Five hundred fight writers from all over the world converged on Chicago, though one place went conspicuously unrepresented. "Germany isn't interested," the Herald Tribune Herald Tribune reported. "The outcome of the fight between Braddock and Louis should not be covered excessively," the German press instructions declared. Only short reports would be tolerated, the newspapers were told, and should focus on how it was more of a financial than an athletic affair. Only Americans, said reported. "The outcome of the fight between Braddock and Louis should not be covered excessively," the German press instructions declared. Only short reports would be tolerated, the newspapers were told, and should focus on how it was more of a financial than an athletic affair. Only Americans, said Box-Sport, Box-Sport, considered this a real title bout; the shadow that Schmeling would cast over the proceedings, it said, would be darker than Louis's skin. As for Louis, he was "a primitive man, a boxing machine without the sparks of divine intellect." considered this a real title bout; the shadow that Schmeling would cast over the proceedings, it said, would be darker than Louis's skin. As for Louis, he was "a primitive man, a boxing machine without the sparks of divine intellect."

More than two thousand people showed up for the weigh-in at the Auditorium Theater. Joe Gould tried giving Louis the evil eye, and when that failed, took another tack. "Gee, Joe, you sure are light for this fight," he said. "Only 197. You must be doin' a lot of worryin'." "You claim Schmeling sneaked the punch that knocked you out, don't you, Joe?" he went on. "Well, don't worry about that tonight. We'll fight you clean. Jimmy's right was never better. We won't have to sneak with it. We know you don't take it so well on that side, but we won't club you the way Schmeling did. Jimmy's a puncher, not a clubber. The first clean shot he gets, it will be over. We won't have to mess you up the way Schmeling did." On and on he went; Louis even smiled.

Whatever the hoopla, there was disappointment in the air. Not long ago, Louis had seemed destined to take the title by storm; now, he stood to win it almost by default. Even his friends at the Chicago Tribune Chicago Tribune had fallen out of love with him. "There is no legend of world domination or invincibility about either of tonight's contestants," Arch Ward wrote. The letdown was visible at the box office: at noon the day before the fight, 40,500 tickets remained unsold. But the police were taking no chances. Officially, they would station a thousand men in the stadium and another two thousand nearby, but rumor had it there'd be more. By one account, one-sixth of the entire Chicago police force would be working, augmented by a regiment of state troopers "armed to the molars." Firemen laid hoses to douse potential rioters. had fallen out of love with him. "There is no legend of world domination or invincibility about either of tonight's contestants," Arch Ward wrote. The letdown was visible at the box office: at noon the day before the fight, 40,500 tickets remained unsold. But the police were taking no chances. Officially, they would station a thousand men in the stadium and another two thousand nearby, but rumor had it there'd be more. By one account, one-sixth of the entire Chicago police force would be working, augmented by a regiment of state troopers "armed to the molars." Firemen laid hoses to douse potential rioters.

At dusk, people began making their way to Comiskey Park, passing vendors hawking fried chicken, pennants, jars of gin, and Louis photographs. The ring, shipped from New York, was the same one in which Schmeling had knocked out Louis. Sitting closest to it was the usual Hollywood contingent: this time, Clark Gable, Bette Davis, Edward G. Robinson, Bing Crosby, Mae West, Carole Lombard, and George Raft. Where Al Capone and his cronies had congregated a decade earlier, J. Edgar Hoover now sat. Kenesaw Mountain Landis, the commissioner who had kept baseball lily white, and Branch Rickey, the man who was to integrate it, were on hand. So were Joe Tinker and Johnny Evers, two-thirds of the famous double-play combination for the Chicago Cubs. Also at ringside was much of boxing's storied past. The last heavyweight title combatants here, Demp-sey and Tunney, now sat next to each other. Nearby was Jess Willard, who'd beaten Jack Johnson twenty-two years earlier in Havana in the last "mixed" heavyweight title bout. He shook hands with Dempsey, who'd mauled him in Toledo, Ohio, four years later, in what became the gold standard of heavyweight ferocity. (As they posed, someone yelled that it was the longest Willard had ever stayed upright with Dempsey.) Jim Jeffries, the former champ whom Jack Johnson had beaten in 1910, was also present. Only Johnson was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps, the black papers speculated, he feared being dunned-or jeered. The choicest seats were "completely alabastered"; the black celebrities who did show up-Bill Robinson, Fletcher Henderson, Chick Webb, Ella Fitzgerald- sat farther back. Louis had asked his mother and Marva not to come. (Marva would listen on the radio with the society editor of the Chicago Defender Chicago Defender and the wife of a "widely known mortician." Louis's mother stayed home.) and the wife of a "widely known mortician." Louis's mother stayed home.) A preternaturally calm Louis, surrounded by policemen, made his way toward the ring-"a sheepish-faced boy in a long bathrobe, his eyes on the ground, his lips those of the old-fashioned shuffling 'coon,' not those at all of the alert, educated modern Negro," one Chicago reporter said of him. Braddock followed. Louis wore his usual blue silk bathrobe; Braddock's was bright green, with a shamrock. Around his neck was a Catholic medal. The Chicago ring announcer introduced the celebrities, with none of Harry Balogh's brio. Louis got more boos than cheers. Before the first punch was thrown, history had been made: at twenty-three years old, he was the youngest challenger in heavyweight history. The fighters had been specifically instructed to head for the farthest corner in the event of a knockdown; Chicago wanted no reenactment of the "Long Count." "Chappie, this is it," Blackburn whispered to Louis shortly before the bell sounded. "You come home a champ tonight." Meantime, life stopped in black neighborhoods everywhere. "Every man, woman and child with normal emotions dedicated the night to prizefighting, put aside every other consideration, and crammed their heads as close to the nearest radio loudspeaker as possible," the Norfolk Journal and Guide Norfolk Journal and Guide said. Once more they would hear Clem McCarthy sharing the microphone with Edwin C. Hill. said. Once more they would hear Clem McCarthy sharing the microphone with Edwin C. Hill.

The fight started at an astonishing clip, with Braddock taking charge. He was thirty-two years old, and figured to run out of steam first; he had to win fast. The two traded punches furiously, and with a right uppercut to the chin, Braddock knocked Louis down, becoming only the second person-after Schmeling-to do so during Louis's professional career. The crowd was electrified, though Louis popped up before the referee could start a count. Quickly, he had Braddock's left eye bleeding. Braddock had never been counted out before, nor, he insisted, had he ever felt any real pain in the ring, but Louis's first left hook made him feel sick. In the second round things slowed down. In the third, fourth, and fifth the fight wasn't settling in so much as it was evolving: Louis was becoming more precise, while Braddock was faltering.

In the sixth, the assault intensified. Braddock's knees wobbled and the fight appeared to be almost over. Once the bell had sounded, through his damaged eyes, Braddock saw Gould reach for a towel. "You throw that towel in there and I'll never speak to you again. Never," Braddock told the man who had managed him, through good times and lean, since 1926. Gould held on to the towel. But in the seventh, his legs wide apart, his arms leaden, his right eye swollen, his left eye ready to shut, Braddock continued to wilt. "Braddock fought a more relentless foe than Joe Louis last night," the Chicago Tribune Chicago Tribune wrote. "He fought an enemy no boxer has beaten. He fought age." In the eighth, Louis readied himself for the kill. "Get your hands up, Jimmy! Get your hands up, Jimmy!" Gould shouted. Braddock tried to obey, but he couldn't get them high enough. McCarthy ticked off the punches: a left to Louis's body, a hard left to Braddock's head, then another under the ear. "And there Braddock came up with a right uppercut that missed, Louis has backed out of the way in time," he said. "Now Braddock is in the center of the ring.... And Louis gave him ... and Braddock is down!" wrote. "He fought an enemy no boxer has beaten. He fought age." In the eighth, Louis readied himself for the kill. "Get your hands up, Jimmy! Get your hands up, Jimmy!" Gould shouted. Braddock tried to obey, but he couldn't get them high enough. McCarthy ticked off the punches: a left to Louis's body, a hard left to Braddock's head, then another under the ear. "And there Braddock came up with a right uppercut that missed, Louis has backed out of the way in time," he said. "Now Braddock is in the center of the ring.... And Louis gave him ... and Braddock is down!"

McCarthy, characteristically, never caught up to the fateful punch, but it was a right hook to the jaw, one of the hardest, most visible, and most audible ever; never, someone later said, had a punch sounded so loud. Even in the slow motion of the fight films, Braddock's head twisted quickly. Louis's blow knocked every bit of moisture off it, encasing it momentarily "in a halo of gleaming particles." "Braddock went over stiffly-like something wooden and unreal," Considine wrote. It was only the third time the Cinderella Man had been down, and now he lay flat on his face, blood running onto the canvas. "The count is two!" McCarthy chanted. "Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! A new world's champion! Joe Louis is the new world's champion!" And a new kind of world's champion, too, one whom blacks and whites could share. Louis had come back-not to the Louis of myth, perhaps, maybe just to what he had always been.

Braddock remained on the canvas-as cold as a frozen haddock, Run-yon wrote. "Get up, Jim!" some yelled, but not even a muscle twitched. Four men carried him to his corner, the blood from his eyes and mouth dripping onto his shoes, leaving behind a red trail a foot long. It took him several minutes to come to. Louis blinked and grinned slightly when, to an oddly equivocal reception-borne, perhaps, of sympathy for the fallen white man-his hand was raised. McCarthy and his microphone quickly caught up with the new champ. "Joe!" he exclaimed. "A great fight!" "Oh, it was a great fight, a very good fight," Louis replied gently, sweetly. "When did you think you had him beat?" McCarthy asked. "When I took the match," Louis replied. He sounded happier than he let himself look; even now, he would not let down his guard.

But in his dressing room, all was joy. "Chappie! Chappie!" Louis shouted at Blackburn. "Let's cut the title in two and celebrate!" Blackburn kissed the glove Louis had worn on his right hand. "Ol' glove, you shoa had dynamite in you tonight," he said. "I guess them years jes' crept up on him," Louis said of his foe. "Nice to be young, ain't it?" Asked how it felt to be champion, he replied, "It don't feel no different." Nor, he said, would he ever let it. He pledged to be "the fightingest champion there ever was." "Just give me one more shot at that Schmeling... just one more!" he added. On the other side of an improvised partition, Braddock was too drained to talk. He would require stitches over his left eye and on his right cheek. More than one thousand people wired him their condolences, among them James Cagney, Lionel Barrymore, J. Edgar Hoover, and Lou and Eleanor Gehrig. Braddock had even taken a beating financially, making far less than he could have gotten (tax-free) in Berlin. But the secret agreement with Mike Jacobs would sweeten the pot for a decade to come. When Braddock did start talking, he said he wanted another shot at Louis. "I guess the poor guy hasn't come to yet," Dempsey's old manager, Jack Kearns, was heard to say.

That night, wild celebrations once again convulsed black America. The most glorious, unsurprisingly, were in Chicago. "Swirling, careening, madly dashing from house to house ... yelling, crying, laughing, boasting, gloating, exulting ... slapping backs, jumping out of the way of wildly-driven cars ... whites and blacks hugging ... the entire world, this cosmic center of the world tonight, turned topsy-turvy, this is the South-side [sic] [sic] of Chicago," the of Chicago," the Courier Courier reported. Someone had had the foresight to prepare thousands of placards declaring simply I reported. Someone had had the foresight to prepare thousands of placards declaring simply I TOLD YOU SO TOLD YOU SO. They nicely captured the faith, exultation, defiance, and sense of vindication the celebrants felt. "They threw that party down on 35th street last night-the one they've been 22 years getting ready for," was how the Chicago Tribune Chicago Tribune saw it. "Pickaninnies who should have been in bed paraded the streets in dishpan bands. Old folks who hadn't stayed up so late in years went shouting up and down the streets." There were bonfires in the boulevards; people rode in cabs and trolleys and on the L for free. Rumors that Louis would show up at the Eighth Regiment Armory, where Roy Eldridge and Benny Goodman were playing, caused hundreds to line the streets outside. Thousands also gathered in front of Louis's apartment, to which he returned shortly after the fight. Before long, the new champion and his wife went out on the balcony and waved to the throng. Someone shouted for a souvenir, and Louis, having nothing else handy, threw down his straw hat, which was quickly torn to shreds. Twenty more times that night, Louis went out and took curtain calls. saw it. "Pickaninnies who should have been in bed paraded the streets in dishpan bands. Old folks who hadn't stayed up so late in years went shouting up and down the streets." There were bonfires in the boulevards; people rode in cabs and trolleys and on the L for free. Rumors that Louis would show up at the Eighth Regiment Armory, where Roy Eldridge and Benny Goodman were playing, caused hundreds to line the streets outside. Thousands also gathered in front of Louis's apartment, to which he returned shortly after the fight. Before long, the new champion and his wife went out on the balcony and waved to the throng. Someone shouted for a souvenir, and Louis, having nothing else handy, threw down his straw hat, which was quickly torn to shreds. Twenty more times that night, Louis went out and took curtain calls.

In Detroit, the large crowd that had listened to the fight over a loudspeaker outside the home of Louis's mother demanded, and got, a cameo from her. She was relieved it was over, she told reporters, because she didn't really like fights. Then she paused for a moment. "His right really was pretty good, wasn't it?" she asked. In Harlem, celebrants materialized out of nowhere. "One moment there wasn't nobody," one amazed officer remarked. "Next minute there was a million." A crowd marched down Seventh Avenue, waving Ethiopian flags and chanting, "We want Schmeling!" "We want the Nazi man!" There was a racial edginess to the celebration that hadn't been apparent after other Louis victories. "How do you like that, white man?" people shouted at passersby. "One thousand policemen fingered clubs menacingly in an obvious attempt to cow the Negro people and stifle their enthusiasm," the Daily Worker Daily Worker reported. It counted fifty-eight cops on the corner of Lenox Avenue and 135th Street alone. Louis "kayoed the same barrier of discrimination that corrals talented young Negro university graduates into post offices as clerks, that bars Negro workmen from the skilled jobs in industry, that segregates the Negro people in slums," the reported. It counted fifty-eight cops on the corner of Lenox Avenue and 135th Street alone. Louis "kayoed the same barrier of discrimination that corrals talented young Negro university graduates into post offices as clerks, that bars Negro workmen from the skilled jobs in industry, that segregates the Negro people in slums," the Worker Worker stated a few days later. "That was behind the joy in Harlem.... The Negro people are going to smack Jim Crow right on the button like Louis hit Braddock." stated a few days later. "That was behind the joy in Harlem.... The Negro people are going to smack Jim Crow right on the button like Louis hit Braddock."

In "darktown Baltimore" it was like "Christmas Eve in darkest Africa," Alistair Cooke later wrote. Russell Baker heard "a tumult of joyous celebration" coming from the same neighborhood, while Baltimore's whites reacted with "the silence of the tomb." In Americus, Georgia, 136 blacks who'd gathered at Dopey Joe's, a rickety, riverside juke joint and dance hall, jumped for joy. Down went the building, and the celebrants with it, into the creek. Blacks in Lansing, Michigan, went "wildly happy with the greatest celebration of race pride our generation had ever known," recalled one of them, who would later be known as Malcolm X. Only Jack Johnson dissented. "I guess the better man won," he said sourly. Schmeling, he added, could still knock out Louis "seven days a week."

"The cynical philosopher will shake his head at such goings on," the Norfolk Journal and Guide Norfolk Journal and Guide said of the festivities. "After all, this celebration was occasioned not by an exhibition of something beautiful like love but by commercialized physical strife, primitive carnage, bloody fighting. But the philosopher is invited to take a running broad jump into the nearest lake by fight fans. For Mr. and Mrs. Colored America, the triumph of Joe Louis in Chicago was something more than just another fight victory for the hero of most Americans, white or black. That win epitomized a struggle for recognition, for achievement against almost impregnable odds of prejudice, injustice, discrimination, disadvantages." To the said of the festivities. "After all, this celebration was occasioned not by an exhibition of something beautiful like love but by commercialized physical strife, primitive carnage, bloody fighting. But the philosopher is invited to take a running broad jump into the nearest lake by fight fans. For Mr. and Mrs. Colored America, the triumph of Joe Louis in Chicago was something more than just another fight victory for the hero of most Americans, white or black. That win epitomized a struggle for recognition, for achievement against almost impregnable odds of prejudice, injustice, discrimination, disadvantages." To the California Eagle, California Eagle, Louis had advanced "into the brightest limelight that can shine upon the head of any public figure except the President." Louis had advanced "into the brightest limelight that can shine upon the head of any public figure except the President."

Louis's victory gave the black press a chance to reflect upon how far race relations had come, and how far they still had to go. "If this same Joe Louis... had remained in his native Alabama, no southern governor would have ever known he lived," a black weekly in Oklahoma City said. The Washington Tribune Washington Tribune lamented that in the nation's capital, the Louis-Braddock fight would have been illegal. Floyd Calvin of the lamented that in the nation's capital, the Louis-Braddock fight would have been illegal. Floyd Calvin of the New York Age New York Age took Walter White to task for having urged black editors to calm down their readers. "That letter should have been sent to white editors, and not colored," he wrote. "The colored people can't do anything but express their joy. It's the white folks who can and do raise sand when they take a notion, win or lose." Louis's victory emboldened his fans. When one radio announcer called him something sounding like a "flat-footed nigger," sixty-four people called to complain. took Walter White to task for having urged black editors to calm down their readers. "That letter should have been sent to white editors, and not colored," he wrote. "The colored people can't do anything but express their joy. It's the white folks who can and do raise sand when they take a notion, win or lose." Louis's victory emboldened his fans. When one radio announcer called him something sounding like a "flat-footed nigger," sixty-four people called to complain. The Afro-American The Afro-American saw implications for colonial Africa. "England trembles every time a black man shows prowess against whites, for England rules by sheer psychology," it stated. "Any incident which might send cowed natives in Africa on the war path might become a bloody incident in British history." saw implications for colonial Africa. "England trembles every time a black man shows prowess against whites, for England rules by sheer psychology," it stated. "Any incident which might send cowed natives in Africa on the war path might become a bloody incident in British history."

The Courier Courier noted that whites and blacks listened to the fight together, then discussed it afterward, without any trouble. But in the very same issue, the paper reported that Miami's chief of police had banned films of the fight, citing laws against "Negro entertainment in a theater for white persons" and prohibiting a black man from baring "any part of his body above the knees or below the chest before white people." There were racial disturbances in Durham, North Carolina, New Orleans, and probably many other places that went unrecorded. The black newspaper in Durham chastised some local blacks for their "utter lack of restraint" following the fight. "An inferiority complex, born in the days of slavery, inevitably arouses, among the untutored, a fierce exultation in the triumph of a race representative," it explained. "Driven by jealousy and the 'Can't Take It' mood," the noted that whites and blacks listened to the fight together, then discussed it afterward, without any trouble. But in the very same issue, the paper reported that Miami's chief of police had banned films of the fight, citing laws against "Negro entertainment in a theater for white persons" and prohibiting a black man from baring "any part of his body above the knees or below the chest before white people." There were racial disturbances in Durham, North Carolina, New Orleans, and probably many other places that went unrecorded. The black newspaper in Durham chastised some local blacks for their "utter lack of restraint" following the fight. "An inferiority complex, born in the days of slavery, inevitably arouses, among the untutored, a fierce exultation in the triumph of a race representative," it explained. "Driven by jealousy and the 'Can't Take It' mood," the Louisiana Weekly Louisiana Weekly reported, whites in two New Orleans neighborhoods set upon black passersby and trolley passengers. There was also violence between young black and white women at a reform school in Washington, D.C. A newspaper in Columbus, Georgia, urged that mixed bouts, still criminal throughout the South, be banned everywhere for fomenting race hatred. reported, whites in two New Orleans neighborhoods set upon black passersby and trolley passengers. There was also violence between young black and white women at a reform school in Washington, D.C. A newspaper in Columbus, Georgia, urged that mixed bouts, still criminal throughout the South, be banned everywhere for fomenting race hatred.

The Daily Worker, Daily Worker, which had agitated tirelessly against baseball's color line, got fresh inspiration from Louis's victory. The black press made the same point, on strictly economic grounds. Even in bad times boxing was booming, thanks to black boxers and fans; baseball could be, too, but "there are none so blind as those who will not see." The white South accepted the new black champion, though with some misgivings. The which had agitated tirelessly against baseball's color line, got fresh inspiration from Louis's victory. The black press made the same point, on strictly economic grounds. Even in bad times boxing was booming, thanks to black boxers and fans; baseball could be, too, but "there are none so blind as those who will not see." The white South accepted the new black champion, though with some misgivings. The Birmingham News Birmingham News saluted his "quiet, inoffensive personality," but noted that "Joe Louis won't duplicate his feat of knocking out Jim Braddock on Birmingham theater screens"; the local federal prosecutor threatened to indict anyone showing fight films. Such films were shown in Nashville at three theaters, two black and one white. That was a far cry from the Louis-Schmeling films, which appeared at numerous white theaters. Fleischer contended that even where fight films were shown, the bloodiest footage was omitted to prevent race riots. saluted his "quiet, inoffensive personality," but noted that "Joe Louis won't duplicate his feat of knocking out Jim Braddock on Birmingham theater screens"; the local federal prosecutor threatened to indict anyone showing fight films. Such films were shown in Nashville at three theaters, two black and one white. That was a far cry from the Louis-Schmeling films, which appeared at numerous white theaters. Fleischer contended that even where fight films were shown, the bloodiest footage was omitted to prevent race riots.

Louis's relatives in Alabama walked four miles into the black community of "Powder Town" to listen around two radios belonging to one of Louis's aunts. Afterward, a thousand people danced in the streets. Two days later, Louis's family had something else to celebrate: Louis's father, Monroe Barrow, long assumed dead, miraculously resurfaced at the Searcy State Hospital for the Negro Insane in Mount Vernon, Alabama. Within a few days, a reporter from Chicago ventured there, and described "an old, sad-eyed, gray-pated Negro" poring over pictures of the Braddock fight. "My little Joe the heavyweight champion of the world?" the old man said. "I can hardly believe it. Say, it must be all of twenty years or more since I last saw my Joe. He was a husky baby, all right. And now he's the greatest fighter in the world. Well, well, well." Again, he grabbed the pictures and studied them more closely. "He looks more like his mother, I think," he added. "But here, doesn't he look something like me, too? Gee, I'd like to see him now." The superintendent of the hospital promptly asked Louis for money; to those who could afford it, the institution charged $30 a month. Louis pledged that once he confirmed the man's identity he'd be happy to oblige.

The Montgomery Advertiser Montgomery Advertiser promptly followed up, and did a bit of math. Monroe Barrow, who suffered from "dementia praecox of the recurring type"-schizophrenia-had been institutionalized since 1912, but Joe Louis had been born in 1914. The hospital's records explained the discrepancy: "In his earlier manhood," the paper revealed, Monroe Barrow "demonstrated an annoying propensity for escaping. Nostalgia invariably led him back to home and family. One such unauthorized leave lasted two years; ladies and gentlemen, the heavyweight champion of the world-Joe Louis." A writer in the promptly followed up, and did a bit of math. Monroe Barrow, who suffered from "dementia praecox of the recurring type"-schizophrenia-had been institutionalized since 1912, but Joe Louis had been born in 1914. The hospital's records explained the discrepancy: "In his earlier manhood," the paper revealed, Monroe Barrow "demonstrated an annoying propensity for escaping. Nostalgia invariably led him back to home and family. One such unauthorized leave lasted two years; ladies and gentlemen, the heavyweight champion of the world-Joe Louis." A writer in the Norfolk Journal and Guide Norfolk Journal and Guide saw in Barrow's sudden emergence an effort by embittered whites to pull Louis off his pedestal, and faulted the black press for playing along. But he praised Louis for embracing the old man rather than running away from him. In fact, Monroe Barrow died within a year and a half, and Louis apparently never met him. saw in Barrow's sudden emergence an effort by embittered whites to pull Louis off his pedestal, and faulted the black press for playing along. But he praised Louis for embracing the old man rather than running away from him. In fact, Monroe Barrow died within a year and a half, and Louis apparently never met him.

The day after the fight, Mike Jacobs suggested that Louis would defend his title four times a year. "If he rests too long, he gets fat and lazy," he explained. That prospect excited some black fans and offended others, who sensed a double standard at work. "If white champions can loaf two or three years without risking loss of the title, why should Joe Louis defend his title more than twice a year?" the Courier Courier asked. And then there was the question of whom he would fight. Despite all the "white hope" campaigns, there was really only one white hope: Schmeling. Everyone agreed that a Louis-Schmeling rematch would be, as Davis Walsh put it, "as natural as young love." And Schmeling wasn't getting any younger; in September he'd be thirty-two years old. Using Fleischer as his emissary, Jacobs tried to entice Schmeling into a fight that fall. The boxing commission also weighed in. But Schmeling was still steaming, or holding out for more money. He "merely wanted Rockefeller Center, 51 percent of Andy Mellon's fortune, and a first mortgage on the Ford plant," one black paper wisecracked. asked. And then there was the question of whom he would fight. Despite all the "white hope" campaigns, there was really only one white hope: Schmeling. Everyone agreed that a Louis-Schmeling rematch would be, as Davis Walsh put it, "as natural as young love." And Schmeling wasn't getting any younger; in September he'd be thirty-two years old. Using Fleischer as his emissary, Jacobs tried to entice Schmeling into a fight that fall. The boxing commission also weighed in. But Schmeling was still steaming, or holding out for more money. He "merely wanted Rockefeller Center, 51 percent of Andy Mellon's fortune, and a first mortgage on the Ford plant," one black paper wisecracked.

In fact, Schmeling, and the Nazis, had different plans. Following Goebbels's instructions, the German press wrote little about the fight.* One paper ran a large head shot of Louis. "That's What America's Boxing World Champion Looks Like," it said. "The Yankees, greedy for money, let the sport go down the drain," it explained. The One paper ran a large head shot of Louis. "That's What America's Boxing World Champion Looks Like," it said. "The Yankees, greedy for money, let the sport go down the drain," it explained. The 12 Uhr-Blatt 12 Uhr-Blatt devoted almost its entire front page to boxing, but Louis wasn't the headliner; the continent was. "Europe Steps In," it announced. "Louis the Victor-But Schmeling World Champion!" "June 22 will remain the darkest day in the long history of American boxing," it declared, a day when gangsters and world Jewry had crowned a heavyweight champion. Schmeling, who had now been elevated to "the greatest boxer the world has ever known," would meet not Louis but Tommy Farr for the real world championship. devoted almost its entire front page to boxing, but Louis wasn't the headliner; the continent was. "Europe Steps In," it announced. "Louis the Victor-But Schmeling World Champion!" "June 22 will remain the darkest day in the long history of American boxing," it declared, a day when gangsters and world Jewry had crowned a heavyweight champion. Schmeling, who had now been elevated to "the greatest boxer the world has ever known," would meet not Louis but Tommy Farr for the real world championship.

Whether in German eyes the fight would be for an open title or would be Schmeling's first title defense was never entirely clear; in any case, it would be a "historic event." "We will box in September in one of London's great open-air arenas!" Schmeling excitedly told the Angriff, Angriff, for the largest purse in British history. The British, too, had signed on; everywhere except New York, the for the largest purse in British history. The British, too, had signed on; everywhere except New York, the Daily Mail Daily Mail reported, the Schmeling-Farr match would be seen as a title fight. For the Nazis and for Schmeling, their plan was meant to strike a blow for honor and idealism. The reported, the Schmeling-Farr match would be seen as a title fight. For the Nazis and for Schmeling, their plan was meant to strike a blow for honor and idealism. The Angriff Angriff said that Germany had had enough of American crookedness, and would now have its own world championship, one recognized by everyone placing sports above dollars. Having helped engineer the Schmeling-Farr title fight, the Nazi regime placed considerable resources behind it. Hitler met with Schmeling on June 29, and told him that German fans should be encouraged to attend, even though that would again mean easing German currency regulations. "The Schmeling fight against the Englishman, Farr, should be presented as a 'world championship fight,'" Goebbels instructed the German press. "Coverage not only in sports section!" By government fiat, then, sports had become too important for the sports pages. Now it was officially impossible for Schmeling to be "just a sportsman." said that Germany had had enough of American crookedness, and would now have its own world championship, one recognized by everyone placing sports above dollars. Having helped engineer the Schmeling-Farr title fight, the Nazi regime placed considerable resources behind it. Hitler met with Schmeling on June 29, and told him that German fans should be encouraged to attend, even though that would again mean easing German currency regulations. "The Schmeling fight against the Englishman, Farr, should be presented as a 'world championship fight,'" Goebbels instructed the German press. "Coverage not only in sports section!" By government fiat, then, sports had become too important for the sports pages. Now it was officially impossible for Schmeling to be "just a sportsman."

The maneuvers in Berlin and London quite naturally met with scorn in New York. The Daily Worker Daily Worker called the proposed fight "the sour-grapes edition" of the heavyweight championship. Pegler again expressed amazement over how enmeshed with boxing the Nazis had become. "The Reich is the first state in the world so hard up for honors as to regard the title as a valuable national asset," he wrote. But the Germans were about to get a real lesson in Realpolitik. First, the New York boxing commission ruled that as long as he offered to fight Schmeling first, Louis was in fact champion. Then Mike Jacobs set about to scuttle the "European championship." He briefly considered having Louis fight in London immediately before the Schmeling-Farr contest simply to steal its thunder. But it was easier just to steal Farr. Which he promptly did, by doubling what the Germans had offered him. called the proposed fight "the sour-grapes edition" of the heavyweight championship. Pegler again expressed amazement over how enmeshed with boxing the Nazis had become. "The Reich is the first state in the world so hard up for honors as to regard the title as a valuable national asset," he wrote. But the Germans were about to get a real lesson in Realpolitik. First, the New York boxing commission ruled that as long as he offered to fight Schmeling first, Louis was in fact champion. Then Mike Jacobs set about to scuttle the "European championship." He briefly considered having Louis fight in London immediately before the Schmeling-Farr contest simply to steal its thunder. But it was easier just to steal Farr. Which he promptly did, by doubling what the Germans had offered him.

Goebbels now had to make a hasty, humiliating about-face. "Nothing should be carried about the reports in the English press that the boxer, Farr, doesn't want to appear against Schmeling," he told the German media. Farr now got the Braddock treatment in German newspapers; he, too, was a coward and a money-grubber. German publications could acknowledge the Louis-Farr fight, but only buried deep inside; to play it any more prominently than that "would amount to a lack of self-respect." "One beaten by Schmeling against one who chickened out of a fight against Schmeling-a 'fine' fight for the title!" one Berlin paper complained.

The Louis-Farr fight was set for August 30. Jacobs kept it in New York, despite his puzzling complaint that Harlem's fans did not come through for Louis at the box office. As Jacobs saw it, delaying the Schmeling rematch only helped; the public could savor the fight longer, the boycott fervor might subside, and Schmeling would be even older and less likely to win. "Promoter Jacobs' plans call for stalling Max until next Summer when he'll be so rusty all the erl in Oklahoma won't enable him to get in shape for Louis," Parker surmised. "The longer they postpone the fight, the better it'll be for Schmeling," Joe Jacobs countered. "Two years from now, Louis won't be a fighter at all. He'll be through."

Louis did appear to be wearying. Blackburn claimed he was still three years from his prime, but Louis himself said he wanted to quit once he'd beaten Schmeling, and go back to school. One visitor to Pompton Lakes, where Louis was training for Farr, understood why. As Louis tried to read a newspaper, scores of people "with mouths wide open and eyes pop-eyed" stared at him "with an intensity worthy of the most fanatical Nazis." "Can you blame the man for wanting a little peace and freedom?" the reporter asked. The time had finally come to determine when Schmeling and Louis would get back into a ring together, which made Schmeling's departure for New York on August 11 front-page news in Germany. By now, Schmeling's frequent transatlantic crossings had become a joke; he was threatening "the back and forth record now jointly held by Larch-mont Doakes, motorman of the Times Square shuttle, and Hemingway Forsythe, jai-alai champion of Bronxville," a paper for German emigres in New York joked. "In Germany they call me the champion," Schmeling told reporters upon his arrival. "Dot is not so-only morally. Louis is the champion. He won the title from Braddock. Now I want my chance." He said he'd seen the fight pictures, and "if poor old Chim can knock down Louis, I can. I don't think he has improved, this Louis." When someone suggested that he might not get his shot until June, Schmeling "laughed with all the cheery good humor of a spoon tinkling in a medicine glass," wrote Bob Considine. But the passage of time did not scare him. "Not having the championship keeps me young," Schmeling insisted.

A few days later Schmeling visited Louis in Pompton Lakes. The two performed for the photographers, first around a pool table, then with Schmeling quite literally whispering nothings in Louis's ear. One black paper detected "a clear dislike" between them. Schmeling never took his eyes off Louis in the ring, and afterward he was beaming, ostensibly because he'd picked up yet another flaw. Someone asked Schmeling if Farr had a prayer against the Bomber. "Everybody has a chance," Schmeling replied. "Even Shirley Temple." On August 26, Schmeling had another contentious encounter with the boxing commissioners. Then he feasted on movies as rain forced a four-day postponement of the Farr fight. When Louis and Farr finally squared off in Yankee Stadium, the police presence was sparse; Louis had made interracial fights routine. To Considine, the applause for Schmeling was clear evidence that the boxing public "would tolerate no further gypping of the German." "If that spontaneous demonstration for Maxie is the off-shoot of a 'boycott,' then I wish someone would boycott me," Parker wrote.

The fight was dull, at least for Louis's fans. Louis bloodied the Welshman but could not put him away, partly because he'd hurt his hand early on. Spoiled and fickle, the mob once more turned on Louis. When the decision for him was announced, boos resounded throughout the stadium. While five thousand men and women in Farr's hometown lit a bonfire for his moral victory, Harlem was bewildered and gloomy. "He iss not more the same Louis," said Schmeling. His greatest fear, he said, was that someone else would get a shot at Louis's title before he did. Braddock said he'd have beaten Louis that night, too. So, too, did Baer. The press pum-meled Louis far worse than Farr did. "Joe Louis lost everything but his heavyweight title last night at the Yankee Stadium," the Herald Tribune Herald Tribune reported. "His footwork is atrocious; his headwork, nil," Jimmy Powers wrote in the reported. "His footwork is atrocious; his headwork, nil," Jimmy Powers wrote in the Daily News. Daily News. When Louis and Schmeling met up again, When Louis and Schmeling met up again, Ring Ring predicted, the German would win in five rounds. Even Louis's greatest backers despaired. With a punch that "would hardly knock over a pillar of thread spools," Farr had made Louis "look dumb, timid and futile," wrote Parker. "Never a mental giant, Joe was the personification of stupidity in this fight. He couldn't think his way out of a subway turnstile. Schmeling would have slaughtered him." Maybe it was time to reassess Louis altogether. "The Alabama-born darky was rushed to the front at a time when the field was unbelievably bad," wrote Harry Grayson in the predicted, the German would win in five rounds. Even Louis's greatest backers despaired. With a punch that "would hardly knock over a pillar of thread spools," Farr had made Louis "look dumb, timid and futile," wrote Parker. "Never a mental giant, Joe was the personification of stupidity in this fight. He couldn't think his way out of a subway turnstile. Schmeling would have slaughtered him." Maybe it was time to reassess Louis altogether. "The Alabama-born darky was rushed to the front at a time when the field was unbelievably bad," wrote Harry Grayson in the World-Telegram. World-Telegram. "Through the medium of a string of stumblebums he was built up as a Dark Destroyer." "Through the medium of a string of stumblebums he was built up as a Dark Destroyer."*

Following its marching orders, the Nazi press downplayed the fight. "Bomber Without Bombs" was how the Reichssportblatt Reichssportblatt summarized it. summarized it. AND THEY CALL THAT A WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP AND THEY CALL THAT A WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP! read a Hamburg headline. The comparatively low attendance, thirty-five thousand, was a triumph of a different sort, proof that Americans hadn't been hoodwinked by a bogus title bout. The Daily Worker Daily Worker was more sympathetic. Criticizing Louis's performance, it said, could only be compared to faulting Babe Ruth for hitting merely a single, two doubles, and a triple. The was more sympathetic. Criticizing Louis's performance, it said, could only be compared to faulting Babe Ruth for hitting merely a single, two doubles, and a triple. The Defender's Defender's Al Monroe was also steadfast. "Instead of the milling, man-eating panther of old, the champion was a steady, plodding fighting machine," he wrote. "He was a boxer with a purpose and not a killer seeking blood." Some marveled at Louis's fair-weather fans. "If he knocks his man out in a jiffy, they call his opponent a set-up," Fleischer complained. "If he fails to score a knockdown, he is dubbed a phoney Al Monroe was also steadfast. "Instead of the milling, man-eating panther of old, the champion was a steady, plodding fighting machine," he wrote. "He was a boxer with a purpose and not a killer seeking blood." Some marveled at Louis's fair-weather fans. "If he knocks his man out in a jiffy, they call his opponent a set-up," Fleischer complained. "If he fails to score a knockdown, he is dubbed a phoney [sic] [sic] and when the fans find his opponent on his feet at the end of the bout... then 'bum' is the title given him." and when the fans find his opponent on his feet at the end of the bout... then 'bum' is the title given him."

Black writers saw jealousy and frustration in the criticism: Louis had annoyed white reporters who preferred short fights and long evenings at the nightspots, the Defender Defender claimed. Feeding black anger was what many considered Clem McCarthy's biased play-by-play, which left some thinking Farr either had won or should have. "It would be better for the fight game, racial and international understanding, if Clem never broadcast another fight," the claimed. Feeding black anger was what many considered Clem McCarthy's biased play-by-play, which left some thinking Farr either had won or should have. "It would be better for the fight game, racial and international understanding, if Clem never broadcast another fight," the Amsterdam News Amsterdam News griped. Both NBC and Mike Jacobs got numerous complaints, the network for bias, the promoter for rigging the fight. "You done me half a million dollars' damage! I'm getting these squawks by the basketful!" Jacobs shouted at McCarthy when he ventured into the Hippodrome. The promoter threatened to end fight broadcasts if such a thing ever happened again. griped. Both NBC and Mike Jacobs got numerous complaints, the network for bias, the promoter for rigging the fight. "You done me half a million dollars' damage! I'm getting these squawks by the basketful!" Jacobs shouted at McCarthy when he ventured into the Hippodrome. The promoter threatened to end fight broadcasts if such a thing ever happened again.

But most commentators, black and white alike, agreed on one thing: Louis had, of all things, turned dull. "Too much teaching" had spoiled him, one black paper lamented; he should unload everything drilled into him in the past year and go back to his old self. By scrutinizing him too closely and correcting mistakes before they were made, Louis's trainers "had taken the glamour away from the colored boy," wrote French Lane of the Chicago Tribune. Chicago Tribune. Lane described how, during a recent visit to a local racetrack, Louis had been all but invisible. "It was a perfect spot for a celebrity to strut his stuff," he wrote. "Imagine Gable, Ruth or Dempsey in a similar situation." Unless a showman like Billy Rose were soon added to Louis's bloated entourage of lawyers, doctors, schoolteachers, and etiquette instructors, Lane warned, people wouldn't know "whether he is Joe Louis or Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown." Louis would soon replenish his pizzazz a bit; in October he would head for Hollywood to star in a semi-autobiographical film called Lane described how, during a recent visit to a local racetrack, Louis had been all but invisible. "It was a perfect spot for a celebrity to strut his stuff," he wrote. "Imagine Gable, Ruth or Dempsey in a similar situation." Unless a showman like Billy Rose were soon added to Louis's bloated entourage of lawyers, doctors, schoolteachers, and etiquette instructors, Lane warned, people wouldn't know "whether he is Joe Louis or Rufus Rastus Johnson Brown." Louis would soon replenish his pizzazz a bit; in October he would head for Hollywood to star in a semi-autobiographical film called Spirit of Youth. Spirit of Youth. But it would feature an all-black cast and have only limited distribution. And it wouldn't improve his fighting. But it would feature an all-black cast and have only limited distribution. And it wouldn't improve his fighting.

The day after the Farr bout, the Anti-Nazi League announced a boycott of all future Schmeling fights. But it all looked moot, at least for a while. Doctors diagnosed some badly bruised muscles and tendons around Louis's knuckles, and prescribed two to six months of rest. To some, it was the same old dodge as Braddock's arthritic pinkie. "Champions often come up with broken bones which require months to heal when they are confronted with professional and economic problems," noted Pegler, who pointed to the tax advantages of delaying the fight until 1938. Besides, he asked, why would "such a mediocre fighter" be in a hurry to get back in the ring? The 12 Uhr-Blatt 12 Uhr-Blatt called it "bad stage management" and "disgraceful theater." Mike Jacobs said he'd given up on a Louis-Schmeling rematch anyway, and would hold an elimination tournament to decide Louis's next opponent. That angered Parker. Schmeling was an unsympathetic ingrate, he wrote, but basic American fair play demanded no more runarounds. In the end, though, both Jacobs and Schmeling had too much to gain from a Louis-Schmeling rematch to put it off much longer. On September 3, as hordes of reporters awaited word at the Hippodrome, the players finally struck a deal. The fight would be in June 1938. Schmeling would get 20 percent of the gate, Louis 40 percent. It would probably be held in New York, but if a boycott pushed it elsewhere, Jacobs could live with it, given all the alternatives. "They'll be in a line, from here to San Francisco," he predicted. Throughout the negotiations between Uncle Mike and Schmeling, Joe Jacobs was literally left outside. "You could see them breaking Joe's heart," another fight manager later recalled. called it "bad stage management" and "disgraceful theater." Mike Jacobs said he'd given up on a Louis-Schmeling rematch anyway, and would hold an elimination tournament to decide Louis's next opponent. That angered Parker. Schmeling was an unsympathetic ingrate, he wrote, but basic American fair play demanded no more runarounds. In the end, though, both Jacobs and Schmeling had too much to gain from a Louis-Schmeling rematch to put it off much longer. On September 3, as hordes of reporters awaited word at the Hippodrome, the players finally struck a deal. The fight would be in June 1938. Schmeling would get 20 percent of the gate, Louis 40 percent. It would probably be held in New York, but if a boycott pushed it elsewhere, Jacobs could live with it, given all the alternatives. "They'll be in a line, from here to San Francisco," he predicted. Throughout the negotiations between Uncle Mike and Schmeling, Joe Jacobs was literally left outside. "You could see them breaking Joe's heart," another fight manager later recalled.

Louis was pleased at the news. "That's the best thing I've ever heard you say yet!" he told Mike Jacobs. Schmeling, who left immediately for Germany, also expressed satisfaction. "I do not think I will get what you call the run-around any more," he said. The deal had been closed, Box-Sport Box-Sport maintained, thanks to Schmeling's magnanimity; by accepting the lower percentage, he'd "placed the sport above the money." Only Hellmis expressed bitterness. Unscrupulous American promoters, he complained, had made Schmeling endure nine Atlantic crossings to get what he deserved. Even now, he warned, one should have no illusions about what had just been signed; the Americans would break this contract, too, if "any other opponent for the glorious 'world champion'" could be found. maintained, thanks to Schmeling's magnanimity; by accepting the lower percentage, he'd "placed the sport above the money." Only Hellmis expressed bitterness. Unscrupulous American promoters, he complained, had made Schmeling endure nine Atlantic crossings to get what he deserved. Even now, he warned, one should have no illusions about what had just been signed; the Americans would break this contract, too, if "any other opponent for the glorious 'world champion'" could be found.

Having stalled Schmeling for so long, Mike Jacobs and his people might now think him too old to win, Hellmis went on. "In this regard, the gentlemen are fooling themselves. When the bell rings next year in New York, I wouldn't want to be stuck in the skin of Joe Louis from Detroit, not even for a million."

* "At every fight where Negroes flood in, there are hundreds who can't get lodging and have to walk the streets," the paper warned. Others stayed in clip joints and got "completely robbed." It promised to take care of everyone who signed up. "At every fight where Negroes flood in, there are hundreds who can't get lodging and have to walk the streets," the paper warned. Others stayed in clip joints and got "completely robbed." It promised to take care of everyone who signed up.* Box-Sport's Box-Sport's foreign stringers were predictably unimpressed with footage of it, which Germans once again could not see for themselves. "One leaves the theater a little ashamed that something like that is called 'sport,'" its man in Basel reported. In Katowitz, only Louis's glass chin was deemed newsworthy. In Argentina, only blacks went to watch. Schmeling himself had to go to Switzerland to study the films. "I see no improvement in Louis," he said afterward. foreign stringers were predictably unimpressed with footage of it, which Germans once again could not see for themselves. "One leaves the theater a little ashamed that something like that is called 'sport,'" its man in Basel reported. In Katowitz, only Louis's glass chin was deemed newsworthy. In Argentina, only blacks went to watch. Schmeling himself had to go to Switzerland to study the films. "I see no improvement in Louis," he said afterward.* Grayson's use of "darky" brought a complaint from Walter White. "We note that you at no time have referred to Bob Pastor as 'Kike' or 'Sheeny'; to Jim Braddock as a 'Mick'; to Lou Ambers as a 'wop,' " he wrote the paper. Grayson's use of "darky" brought a complaint from Walter White. "We note that you at no time have referred to Bob Pastor as 'Kike' or 'Sheeny'; to Jim Braddock as a 'Mick'; to Lou Ambers as a 'wop,' " he wrote the paper.

The Rematch Becomes Reality

THE INTRIGUE AND THE POLITICKING were finally over. For both men, there was little to do now but wait, stay in shape, offend no one. For Louis, this was relatively straightforward; there would be a period to heal, a few safe fights, and some harmless activities to keep him in the public eye. He toured with his softball team, for instance, though even this could be hazardous, and not just while playing first base; in Philadelphia that September, frenzied fans practically overran him. were finally over. For both men, there was little to do now but wait, stay in shape, offend no one. For Louis, this was relatively straightforward; there would be a period to heal, a few safe fights, and some harmless activities to keep him in the public eye. He toured with his softball team, for instance, though even this could be hazardous, and not just while playing first base; in Philadelphia that September, frenzied fans practically overran him.

Politically, Europe was inching toward war. Civil war was already raging in Spain, where Hitler and Mussolini were helping the fascists of Francisco Franco overthrow the Spanish Republic. The noose was tightening around Germany's Jews, as the Nazis, bent at this point on merely driving them out of the country, progressively deprived them of their rights and livelihoods. Of all this, Louis could remain blithely ignorant. His very success was enough of a political statement, and he rarely strayed beyond that. He campaigned briefly for Franklin Roosevelt once, but neglected to mention his name and forgot the place where he was delighted to be.

For Schmeling, the situation was much more complicated. Even routine tune-ups in New York would bring out protesters. Placating Hitler, Goebbels, Mike Jacobs, and the American public simultaneously was not easy. His every move-including his visit on September 12 to the annual Nazi Party congress in Nuremberg-would be noted in the American press. Two weeks later, in top hat and morning coat, he was present when Hitler greeted Mussolini in Munich. Knowing of Il Duce's appreciation for beautiful women, Leni Riefenstahl arranged to have four hundred German actresses on hand for him. But Schmeling threw off her calculations; a "bevy of the comeliest stars" gathered around him instead. Not long afterward, the capo of German boxing, Franz Metzner, urged the authorities to reward Schmeling's loyalty by granting his request for a tax break. "Schmeling has suffered extraordinary financial losses," he noted, pointing to his repeated trips to the United States, because he had "always stood up for his Germanness and the Third Reich, and has never made even the slightest negative remark about Germany"; had he done so, "he would no doubt have come into countless fights and [a great deal of] money in America." Whether or not he got that break, Schmeling was able to buy a large estate-"as big as Central Park," Machon said-in the Pomeranian town of Ponickel, ninety miles northeast of Berlin. It was adjacent to a nature preserve, where he could hunt eleven months of the year. Schmeling later said that he'd have left Germany had the Nazis not effectively held Anny Ondra hostage, refusing to let her travel with him. Whether or not that was true, investing in so substantial a property suggests he was only digging in.

In October, he began casting about for someone to box. "To find an opponent for Schmeling is not especially easy," the Angriff Angriff said. "In the entire world there is hardly a man who would have a chance." Unlike lighter fighters, Hellmis wrote reassuringly, heavyweights seemed to improve with age; Schmeling would most likely win back the title in 1938, at the age of thirty-three. Schmeling elected to fight the South African Ben Foord in Germany in January; Mike Jacobs spread before him and Joe Jacobs a smorgasbord of five American possibilities to take on in New York before that. Yussel's choice was a young Minnesotan named Harry Thomas, whom the Nazi press instantly attempted to elevate beyond cannon fodder. News of the fight appeared on front pages throughout Germany. The Nazis were less happy when said. "In the entire world there is hardly a man who would have a chance." Unlike lighter fighters, Hellmis wrote reassuringly, heavyweights seemed to improve with age; Schmeling would most likely win back the title in 1938, at the age of thirty-three. Schmeling elected to fight the South African Ben Foord in Germany in January; Mike Jacobs spread before him and Joe Jacobs a smorgasbord of five American possibilities to take on in New York before that. Yussel's choice was a young Minnesotan named Harry Thomas, whom the Nazi press instantly attempted to elevate beyond cannon fodder. News of the fight appeared on front pages throughout Germany. The Nazis were less happy when Ring Ring placed Louis atop Schmeling in its annual ratings. The placed Louis atop Schmeling in its annual ratings. The 12 Uhr-Blatt 12 Uhr-Blatt suggested that Germany produce rankings of its own. suggested that Germany produce rankings of its own.

In early November, Schmeling again left Berlin for Bremerhaven and New York, this time for a genuine, guaranteed fight. Eighteen months had passed since he'd last been in a ring, and he needed work badly. With this in mind, he insisted that the Thomas fight, set for December 13, be fifteen rounds rather than ten or twelve. Box-Sport Box-Sport described how he was received "with open arms and with joy" in New York, speculating that it reflected renewed affection for Schmeling and disillusionment with Louis. Mike Jacobs, it said, knew that Schmeling was his greatest draw. As for Joe Jacobs, who needed him? "Has Schmeling not proven through his business negotiations here that he, himself, is the best manager he's ever had?" described how he was received "with open arms and with joy" in New York, speculating that it reflected renewed affection for Schmeling and disillusionment with Louis. Mike Jacobs, it said, knew that Schmeling was his greatest draw. As for Joe Jacobs, who needed him? "Has Schmeling not proven through his business negotiations here that he, himself, is the best manager he's ever had?" Box-Sport Box-Sport asked. asked.

Of course, the reception wasn't quite so rosy. Four days after Schmeling arrived, the Anti-Nazi League announced that picketers would march outside the Hippodrome and Madison Square Garden for the next four weeks, urging fans to steer clear of the Thomas fight. One of their signs contained a grotesque caricature of Hitler, whose arms and legs jerked wildly when you yanked a string. The boycott, which Jacobs had so handily turned to his own advantage earlier in the year, was now a real problem for him, and in a letter to Samuel Untermyer he pleaded for fairness. The Thomas bout, he explained, was really only training for the Louis fight-Schmeling would earn just $30,000 from it-and by matching Louis with Schmeling, he was merely meeting public demand. Besides, Schmeling had led a clean and exemplary life, and it would be unsporting to deny him a title shot because of his nationality. Untermyer wasn't persuaded. "The League is not willing to feed the treasury of the German Government-even to a minor extent," he replied.

His patience worn thin by picketers on the sidewalk beneath his window, Jacobs threatened to move the Louis-Schmeling fight to Philadelphia or Chicago, or sell it to the Germans for $750,000. Meantime, tickets for the Thomas fight, at least in the better seats, were selling slowly. As Schmeling contended with hostility in New York, he also faced a civil war in his own camp. Joe Jacobs and Max Machon had always been an odd couple, and their rivalry had only intensified as Schmeling marginalized Jacobs and Machon's influence grew. Now, some German Americans whispered to Machon that Thomas was not quite the pushover Jacobs said he was. With Schmeling paying Jacobs a pittance and Thomas managed by one of Joe's friends, Jacobs's loyalties were suddenly questionable. Here, then, was another Jewish conspiracy, and Schmeling believed it. "They do not want me to have easy fights," he told Jimmy Cannon. "Joe Jacobs and Mike Jacobs do not want me to get ready. They do not want me to knock out Joe Louis again. This is what I think." Machon insisted that Joe Jacobs had been relieved of all of his duties, even at the training camp.

Cannon later caught up with Jacobs, while he was getting a midnight shave from a Broadway barber. Sure, he admitted, he and Machon had been "wrangling endlessly" for control of Schmeling, but this talk of a plot was a joke. "Why should I be angling to have a meal ticket punched?" he asked. "Tell that Machon he's daffy. Listen, I'm the boss of that camp. I'm running it. I always ran it. I'm still Schmeling's manager. Machon is just the trainer. He does what I tell him. Joe Jacobs is the boss." The rift was serious enough for Mike Jacobs to pay a visit to Schmeling's camp. In fact, were Thomas all that good, more people would have heard of him. Drew Middleton of the Associated Press called him "the willing whetstone for Max Schmeling's dulled ring weapons." Still, whatever Schmeling was doing to Joe Jacobs, Joe Jacobs stood by Schmeling. "I haven't the slightest doubt that, even if Schmeling had him chucked in a concentration camp in the morning, he would continue to talk of him in the awed tones of a schoolboy discussing Babe Ruth," Parker wrote.

On December 12, Louis arrived from Chicago to take in the fight. Had he ventured over to the Hippodrome, he'd have seen the picketers with their placards, accusing Schmeling of helping to bankroll Hitler's wars. Hellmis saw them, and was amused; they were peddling the same old smears. "The passersby smile, if they look at all," he wrote.* Hellmis enthused about Schmeling's high standing with the New York boxing writers, even those of a "particular racial character" for whom "the word 'German' works like a red flag in front of a Spanish bull." He speculated, foolishly, that Mike Jacobs actually hoped Thomas would win, even though it would ruin his million-dollar rematch. Uncharacteristically, he gave Jacobs a chance to defend himself. "We're all fighting for [Schmeling] and his rights," Jacobs declared. "Write that back home, too, after you spent all last summer writing that we're all gangsters." Hellmis enthused about Schmeling's high standing with the New York boxing writers, even those of a "particular racial character" for whom "the word 'German' works like a red flag in front of a Spanish bull." He speculated, foolishly, that Mike Jacobs actually hoped Thomas would win, even though it would ruin his million-dollar rematch. Uncharacteristically, he gave Jacobs a chance to defend himself. "We're all fighting for [Schmeling] and his rights," Jacobs declared. "Write that back home, too, after you spent all last summer writing that we're all gangsters."

On the night of December 13, three men and a woman marched in the frigid air along Eighth Avenue as boxing fans filed into the Garden. SCHMELING IS A GERMAN COMMODITY-DO NOT BUY SCHMELING IS A GERMAN COMMODITY-DO NOT BUY! read their placards, which the woman supplemented with chants: "Don't send money to the mad dog of Europe!" "Schmeling is an agent of Hitler!" Passersby made fun of her, while a policeman nearby smiled indulgently. When Mike Jacobs alighted from a taxi, the protesters immediately surrounded him and shouted, "Jacobs would sell out his own mother!" Inside, by one estimate, German Americans composed 60 percent of the turnout of eighteen thousand. Mike Jacobs looked over the crowd contentedly. "Well, I hope them boycotters don't feel hurt," he said. When Schmeling entered the ring, the crowd greeted him tumultuously. When Braddock was introduced, they jeered. And when Louis was announced-"the champion who fears no man," Harry Balogh called him-"the crowd almost tore his ear off with a torrent of boos," Joe Williams wrote, though Louis swayed some of his detractors when he shook Schmeling's hand. Schmeling himself got "one of those old Dempsey ovations" when introduced.

Listening to it all, throughout Germany, were those stalwarts who had again managed to stay up, this time until four a.m. As usual, Schmeling's chums gathered at the Roxy-Bar, Hitler's personal photographer, Heinrich Hoffman, among them. Each put up a bottle of champagne, with the person predicting the outcome most accurately collecting the lot. No one picked Schmeling to lose, or even just to win on points. For several rounds Schmeling simply shook off the cobwebs. Then he went to work, knocking down Thomas six times. In the eighth round Thomas was poised to fall yet again when Arthur Donovan called the fight. "Max's rooters rattled the windows with their 'heils,'" the Daily News Daily News reported. Joe Jacobs vaulted to the nearest microphone. "Schmeling desoives all the credit in the woild, 'specially since he's been out of the ring such a long length of time," he said. Fora fighter his age, Trevor Wignall wrote, Schmeling was absolutely remarkable, almost a freak. Coming after Louis's dismal showing against Farr, the match convinced many that they'd watched the next heavyweight champion. reported. Joe Jacobs vaulted to the nearest microphone. "Schmeling desoives all the credit in the woild, 'specially since he's been out of the ring such a long length of time," he said. Fora fighter his age, Trevor Wignall wrote, Schmeling was absolutely remarkable, almost a freak. Coming after Louis's dismal showing against Farr, the match convinced many that they'd watched the next heavyweight champion.

In his dressing room, Schmeling said he felt the long layoff in his bones. That, plus all those Atlantic crossings, had taken their toll; though he believed he could face Louis as he was, he wanted two more tune-ups, a desire that greatly displeased Mike Jacobs. "My nerves are shot," Jacobs complained. "Why doesn't he hide himself until June?" As Jacobs spoke, the German ambassador to Washington, Hans Heinrich Dieckhoff, and the German consul in New York, Hans Borchers, entered. Dieckhoff seized Schmeling's hand, still wrapped with gauze. "Max, you were wonderful!" he exclaimed. They spoke German a bit and then he left, with the ambassador's aide giving a Nazi salute on his way out. The now-customary telegrams from Goring and Goebbels were joined this time by one from Rudolf Hess. Goring conferred on Schmeling the right to hunt a moose, a privilege reserved for VIPs. When Schmeling called Ondra to report his victory, he learned that Hitler had called her first.

Only two years earlier in the same spot, people had watched Schmeling watching Louis for the first time, and thought they saw him blanch. This time, everyone watched Louis watching Schmeling for the first time, at least as a spectator, and thought they saw him squirm and wince. "Emotionally, Louis probably took as much punishment last night as Mr. Thomas," Joe Williams wrote. Actually, Roxborough, Black, Blackburn, and Louis saw nothing special or terribly alarming. Black said that Schmeling "looked terrible," and that if Louis couldn't knock him out in two rounds "he ought to go back and work for Mr. Ford." Louis, his interest in the fight "contained in a prodigious yawn," agreed; if he couldn't whip him, he said, he never wanted "to see another pair of gloves." Schmeling would encounter a different Louis come June, he said, someone who wouldn't "go messin' roun' in no fog for twelve rounds."

The postmortems were as much about politics as pugilism. Of enormous symbolic concern to all involved was the size of the crowd-the place was sold out-and of the gate: "Some of my friends informed me quite a few Jewish persons were in the crowd and I want to acknowledge my gratitude for their sportsmanship," Schmeling said afterward. As Parker pointed out, there was something bizarre about Jews protesting a fight promoted by a Jew between two boxers with Jewish managers. Any anti-Nazi cause that had lost him was clearly doomed. No longer, he wrote, could Mike Jacobs hide behind the threat of a boycott to protect his hegemony over the heavyweights.

The German coverage was routinely ecstatic. The newspapers were filled with reports of Schmeling's proficiency and Thomas's bravery. "Max Schmeling's popularity, particularly with the Brown Shirts, now knows no bounds," The New York Times The New York Times reported from Berlin. Schmeling was ageless, crowed the reported from Berlin. Schmeling was ageless, crowed the Angriff, Angriff, impressing even the Americans; on this evening at least, "he would have knocked out any other heavyweight in the world." But more noteworthy than Schmeling's performance was the blow dealt to the boycotters. "Schmeling Also KO'd the USA Jews," the impressing even the Americans; on this evening at least, "he would have knocked out any other heavyweight in the world." But more noteworthy than Schmeling's performance was the blow dealt to the boycotters. "Schmeling Also KO'd the USA Jews," the 8 Uhr-Blatt 8 Uhr-Blatt proclaimed. "The Agitation Against Schmeling from the Synagogues Has Collapsed." A cartoon on its front page showed one of Schmeling's punches sending Thomas missile-like into the gut of a corpulent, scraggly tycoon labeled "Samuel Untermyer & Co." A similar cartoon was more prophetic, showing an Untermyer-like figure wearing a Star of David on his jacket. The proclaimed. "The Agitation Against Schmeling from the Synagogues Has Collapsed." A cartoon on its front page showed one of Schmeling's punches sending Thomas missile-like into the gut of a corpulent, scraggly tycoon labeled "Samuel Untermyer & Co." A similar cartoon was more prophetic, showing an Untermyer-like figure wearing a Star of David on his jacket. The Volkischer Beobachter Volkischer Beobachter called the fight a great victory for German-American friendship. The calumnies heaped upon Schmeling weren't American at all, but the work of alien, un-American influences, "the circle of Jewish boycott agitators, polluting the entire world." Real Germans and real Americans had so much in common; it was such a shame the Jews in each place had to muck things up. called the fight a great victory for German-American friendship. The calumnies heaped upon Schmeling weren't American at all, but the work of alien, un-American influences, "the circle of Jewish boycott agitators, polluting the entire world." Real Germans and real Americans had so much in common; it was such a shame the Jews in each place had to muck things up.

Boycott organizers tried to put the best face on the situation. They said Jacobs had sold many tickets at reduced prices, and only after pro-Nazi groups had all but ordered their members to go. The fight had actually netted considerably less than what Jacobs had predicted. As for the rousing ovation Schmeling received, it came from "an audience of appreciative storm troopers." Schmeling ended up with only $25,000 for the fight; once Uncle Sam and Uncle Mike were through with him, he would have precious little to show for his labors, and Hitler even less. If it were any consolation to the league, Jacobs himself wasn't satisfied; he hadn't recognized many of the faces at ringside, meaning that the usual Jews weren't there. Again he threatened to move the Louis-Schmeling bout out of New York, and even talked to Schmeling about transplanting it to Berlin. "I'll get rid of all those headaches," he groused. Indeed, like Joe Gould before him, he even contracted a brief case of missionary zeal, informing Schmeling that Germany could have the fight if Hitler stopped discriminating against Jews and Catholics.

Schmeling hastily left for Germany to be home for Christmas. Before departing, he thanked the Americans for their good sportsmanship. Some of those seeing him off raised their arms and shouted "Heil!" as he boarded the ship. But Schmeling kept his hands in his pockets and looked straight ahead as he walked up the gangplank. Thousands cheered him in Bremerhaven, and friends, reporters, and boxing officials, Metzner among them, greeted him when he reached Berlin. Tschammer und Osten saluted Schmeling's victory "not only over a strong opponent but also over the hatred and slander of the eternal enemies of the German nature and of the athletic spirit." A band of storm troopers serenaded Schmeling outside his home and staged a torchlight parade, which Schmeling watched through his window.

His ever more exalted status, and his usefulness to the regime, was apparent from the latest work in the Hellmis oeuvre: a long series on his life in HJ.: Das Kampfblatt der Hitler-Jugend, HJ.: Das Kampfblatt der Hitler-Jugend, the magazine of the Hitler Youth. In twelve installments over nearly three months, Hellmis retraced Schmeling's career and portrayed him as a regular, hardworking guy, loved and respected by all. This included all Americans-except for the American press, which was riddled with Jews. Torment at Jewish hands was nothing new for Schmeling, Hellmis maintained; "a small clique of sleazy Jewish agitators" had turned Germany against Schmeling in 1930, when he'd won the heavyweight championship. "The great boxer never learned to kiss up to the newspaper Jews," he wrote. "Disgusted by their phony phrases, he had treated them coldly." It marked one of the few times that the German press portrayed Schmeling himself as anti-Semitic. There's no evidence that this was ever the case; what was significant was the extra degree to which the regime was now casting Schmeling in its image, and its confidence that Schmeling himself would offer no objection. Hellmis told his young readers that among Schmeling's greatest treasures was a photograph of the Fuhrer, inscribed, "To Our German World Champion in Boxing in True Admiration, Adolf Hitler." Schmeling carried it with him at all times, Hellmis said. the magazine of the Hitler Youth. In twelve installments over nearly three months, Hellmis retraced Schmeling's career and portrayed him as a regular, hardworking guy, loved and respected by all. This included all Americans-except for the American press, which was riddled with Jews. Torment at Jewish hands was nothing new for Schmeling, Hellmis maintained; "a small clique of sleazy Jewish agitators" had turned Germany against Schmeling in 1930, when he'd won the heavyweight championship. "The great boxer never learned to kiss up to the newspaper Jews," he wrote. "Disgusted by their phony phrases, he had treated them coldly." It marked one of the few times that the German press portrayed Schmeling himself as anti-Semitic. There's no evidence that this was ever the case; what was significant was the extra degree to which the regime was now casting Schmeling in its image, and its confidence that Schmeling himself would offer no objection. Hellmis told his young readers that among Schmeling's greatest treasures was a photograph of the Fuhrer, inscribed, "To Our German World Champion in Boxing in True Admiration, Adolf Hitler." Schmeling carried it with him at all times, Hellmis said.

"JOE L LOUIS HADN'T HUNG UP his 'sock' for Santa Claus," Chester Washington of the his 'sock' for Santa Claus," Chester Washington of the Courier Courier wrote in his column for Christmas 1937. "He was saving it for Maxie Schmeling next June." Washington's colleague Wendell Smith asked Santa to give Louis something with which he could protect his jaw. The fight was still more than six months off, but the anticipation had begun. Sitting around the Chicken Shack in Detroit, Washington sensed that Louis was angry: his crown still had an asterisk attached. And Louis still considered the German a bad sport for deliberately hitting him after the bell. "I'll show him the next time," he said. That was his only New Year's resolution for 1938. wrote in his column for Christmas 1937. "He was saving it for Maxie Schmeling next June." Washington's colleague Wendell Smith asked Santa to give Louis something with which he could protect his jaw. The fight was still more than six months off, but the anticipation had begun. Sitting around the Chicken Shack in Detroit, Washington sensed that Louis was angry: his crown still had an asterisk attached. And Louis still considered the German a bad sport for deliberately hitting him after the bell. "I'll show him the next time," he said. That was his only New Year's resolution for 1938.

Various cities were maneuvering to inherit the rematch if Mike Jacobs abandoned New York. Chicago's pitch was spearheaded by one Max Epstein, whose very name would presumably help defeat any boycott. Philadelphia, Cleveland, and Detroit also made bids; a remodeled Briggs Stadium, where the Tigers played baseball, could hold ninety thousand fans. While Schmeling fought himself back into shape, Louis rested his weary hands and found that his marriage had become fodder in the bitter rivalry between two of New York's premier gossip columnists, Walter Winchell and Ed Sullivan. Winchell said that the Louises were "definitely apart"; Sullivan said "a Harlem night club chorine" was responsible. A black weekly reported that the woman in question was a "sepia songstress" at the Plantation Club; another had Louis and Marva planning to break up after the Schmeling fight, with Marva walking off with $200,000 to $250,000. "Wherever she goes, she is the object of all eyes," a friend of Marva complained. "The clothes she wears are torn to pieces by idle tongues which can find nothing else to talk about."

From the beginning, Louis did not seem to feel unduly bound by his wedding vows. But before long, there were very public rebuttals. "Despite all of the upsetting rumors that have caused me so much embarrassment and worry, I will continue to trust the man I married September 24,1935," Marva declared on the front page of the Courier. Courier. Louis, in turn, called Marva "the sweetest little wife a man ever had" and pledged that after beating Schmeling he would take her to Paris, where she would study dressmaking. Black America would do well to stop all this gossiping, the Louis, in turn, called Marva "the sweetest little wife a man ever had" and pledged that after beating Schmeling he would take her to Paris, where she would study dressmaking. Black America would do well to stop all this gossiping, the Defender Defender warned; it could cause Louis to quit-win, lose, or draw-after the Schmeling fight. His fans, the paper said, had "meddled and meddled and meddled until they have driven both Joe and his wife to seek a place far away from the multitude, many of which seek to crucify both of them." But the threat was undercut by something Louis said on the very same page. "Will defend my title as long as I keep it and the public demands me to," he announced. "Ten years if necessary." So the couple remained intact, at least for now. Marva even took on a new role, as the warned; it could cause Louis to quit-win, lose, or draw-after the Schmeling fight. His fans, the paper said, had "meddled and meddled and meddled until they have driven both Joe and his wife to seek a place far away from the multitude, many of which seek to crucify both of them." But the threat was undercut by something Louis said on the very same page. "Will defend my title as long as I keep it and the public demands me to," he announced. "Ten years if necessary." So the couple remained intact, at least for now. Marva even took on a new role, as the Defender's Defender's fashion columnist. fashion columnist.

Louis, meantime, bowed on the screen when Spirit of Youth Spirit of Youth opened in black movie theaters. He followed the premieres up the eastern seaboard, appearing before thousands of feverish fans in Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York. Many couldn't get seats or, even if they did, were too busy staring at the live Louis in the audience to watch the filmed Louis on the screen. That may have been just as well, for the critics, white and black, were not kind about the film, which, with its tale of a young fighter falling for a nightclub actress, breaking training, and giving lip to his managers, sounded too much like 1936 and reportedly had Mike Jacobs squirming in his seat. Louis was a great fighter and a good guy, but as a screen lover he was "a dud, with a capital D," the opened in black movie theaters. He followed the premieres up the eastern seaboard, appearing before thousands of feverish fans in Washington, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York. Many couldn't get seats or, even if they did, were too busy staring at the live Louis in the audience to watch the filmed Louis on the screen. That may have been just as well, for the critics, white and black, were not kind about the film, which, with its tale of a young fighter falling for a nightclub actress, breaking training, and giving lip to his managers, sounded too much like 1936 and reportedly had Mike Jacobs squirming in his seat. Louis was a great fighter and a good guy, but as a screen lover he was "a dud, with a capital D," the Afro-American Afro-American declared. But an declared. But an Afro Afro columnist thought most wives would like Louis anyway. "His awkwardness will remind them of their husband and they will feel perfectly at ease," he wrote. columnist thought most wives would like Louis anyway. "His awkwardness will remind them of their husband and they will feel perfectly at ease," he wrote.

Louis inched his way back into boxing. On January 19 he stopped by Pompton Lakes, where Braddock was training for Tommy Farr. While dozens crowded around Louis, another visitor that day, Joe DiMaggio, was virtually ignored. A week later, Louis himself was training at Pompton Lakes, for a fight on February 23 against a Connecticut heavyweight named Nathan Mann. It was there, remarkably, that Louis watched the films of the Schmeling fight for the first time. A visiting newspaperman had brought it, and after a bit of hesitation, Blackburn consented to let Louis see it. So they pulled the shades, hung a sheet, and relived that fateful night of a year and a half earlier. Louis had not thrown his first three lefts before Blackburn muttered about Louis dropping his arm after every punch and then keeping it in his pocket. They watched the blow in the second that sent Louis spiraling. "I don' 'member nothin' from that punch," Louis said. "Next thing I know I'm on my way to the dressing room and Chappie heah is saying, 'Cover up yo' face.'"

As Louis prepared for Mann, Schmeling readied himself for a bout with Ben Foord, the onetime heavyweight champion of the British Empire, in Hamburg on January 30. For Germany it would be a double celebration: it was Schmeling's first fight on native soil in nearly three years, and the fifth anniversary of the Nazi seizure of power. Schmeling's resurgence, and Germany's, could be marked on the same bill. Goebbels felt it necessary to order the German press to play the anniversary celebration more prominently. An elaborate program had been planned: first would come the marching music, and then, at Goebbels's specific direction, Hitler's speech to the Reichstag. The fight would start as soon as the Fuhrer finished. The Reichstag session was canceled, however; though it was not made public right away, two key generals were purged that day as Hitler consolidated his control over the German army. Instead, the audience had to settle for Metzner, who offered the usual paeans to the Fuhrer. Both Schmeling and Foord were escorted to the ring by a phalanx of SS commandos; each gave the Hitler salute after climbing through the ropes. For half an hour, the crowd dutifully stood up and sat down through all the speeches, chants, and anthems. So swept up in the fervor was one British reporter that he, too, rose, gave the Nazi salute, and sang along. But it was Schmeling's turn to disappoint his fans: though he was clearly superior, he couldn't knock Foord out, settling instead for a decision. Derisive whistles filled the hall. Schmeling removed the laurels placed around his neck and gave them to Foord. The same SS men, resplendent in their black uniforms, then escorted Schmeling out of the ring.

Schmeling professed to be pleased, but others felt let down, partly because Hellmis's call had led people to think that a knockout was near. "One had expected more," Goebbels wrote in his diary. Hitler, too, derived scant satisfaction from Schmeling's victory. "He tirades a lot against America and its scum," Goebbels wrote. "He goes on about America's miserable treatment of Schmeling." Watching the films afterward, though, Goebbels reassessed Schmeling's performance: "Thrilling and dramatic. A truly manly fight," he wrote. With postproduction work done in a "real American" fashion, films of the fight, titled A Great Victor- A Brave Opponent, A Great Victor- A Brave Opponent, were soon showing all over the Reich. Still, the regime realized it had to maintain a certain distance from Schmeling. Sometime around Christmas 1937, a man had come to Schmeling's apartment in Berlin to offer him honorary membership in the Brown Shirts. Schmeling ducked the visitor, but afterward told his friend Hans Hinkel, Goebbels's deputy in the propaganda ministry, that if he were to join any Nazi group, it would be the SS. In February, Hinkel asked Heinrich Himmler for his thoughts. Himmler's staff concluded quite correctly that it was a terrible idea, citing German interests abroad, and instructed Hinkel to back off. were soon showing all over the Reich. Still, the regime realized it had to maintain a certain distance from Schmeling. Sometime around Christmas 1937, a man had come to Schmeling's apartment in Berlin to offer him honorary membership in the Brown Shirts. Schmeling ducked the visitor, but afterward told his friend Hans Hinkel, Goebbels's deputy in the propaganda ministry, that if he were to join any Nazi group, it would be the SS. In February, Hinkel asked Heinrich Himmler for his thoughts. Himmler's staff concluded quite correctly that it was a terrible idea, citing German interests abroad, and instructed Hinkel to back off.

Louis was even less impressed than Goebbels had initially been. Baer had knocked out Foord, he noted, and look at what he he had done to Baer! Old age, he theorized, had finally caught up with Schmeling. "I'm kinda sorry today's fight happened," he said. "Because now, when I belt out Mr. Schmeling in June, people'll say I just licked an old man who couldn't even stop Foord. But I'll get considerable pleasure from knockin' him out anyway." had done to Baer! Old age, he theorized, had finally caught up with Schmeling. "I'm kinda sorry today's fight happened," he said. "Because now, when I belt out Mr. Schmeling in June, people'll say I just licked an old man who couldn't even stop Foord. But I'll get considerable pleasure from knockin' him out anyway." Ring Ring marveled that Foord, ranked only thirty-sixth in the world, had lasted so long. "Tab this-Louis over Schmeling, by a knockout when and if," it said. Fearing that Schmeling would embarrass or injure himself, Mike Jacobs ordered him to take on no more warm-up bouts. But Schmeling, who seemed to take pleasure in tweaking Jacobs and ignoring his directives, signed to meet an American heavyweight, Steve Dudas, for a last tune-up on April 16. marveled that Foord, ranked only thirty-sixth in the world, had lasted so long. "Tab this-Louis over Schmeling, by a knockout when and if," it said. Fearing that Schmeling would embarrass or injure himself, Mike Jacobs ordered him to take on no more warm-up bouts. But Schmeling, who seemed to take pleasure in tweaking Jacobs and ignoring his directives, signed to meet an American heavyweight, Steve Dudas, for a last tune-up on April 16.

Jacobs now went public, sort of, with the offer he'd made Schmeling the previous December: a rematch with Louis in Berlin, but only if Hitler stopped picking on Jews and Catholics. He admitted that it sounded like public relations but insisted he was sincere. Before weighing bids from other cities, he wanted to hear from Berlin. "I only hope that Hitler takes me up on this," he said. "It would really please me." The proposition was fine with Louis, as long as a million dollars, free of German taxes, were deposited in a New York bank beforehand (a personal check from Hitler, payable to Roxborough and Black, would do). Of course, the whole idea was ludicrous. As much as Hitler and Goebbels wanted a heavyweight championship fight in Germany, they wanted the Jews out far more. The anti-Jewish campaign accelerated when Hitler annexed Austria on March 13; in the second half of March alone, seventy-nine Austrian Jews committed suicide. When Hitler staged a "referendum" to ratify the Anschluss, though, Schmeling, along with other German celebrities, lent his support. For him and all friends of boxing, he said in an advertisement in the 12 Uhr-Blatt, Uhr-Blatt, voting "yes" was a way to thank the Fuhrer for his support of the sport. "Under his leadership, German boxing has earned worldwide recognition," he wrote. "He's interested in everything that happens inside the ropes. So can there be any question at all for us athletes about whether we stand behind him and support him when he needs us?" German newspapers ran photographs of Schmeling and other prominent athletes happily casting their ballots. voting "yes" was a way to thank the Fuhrer for his support of the sport. "Under his leadership, German boxing has earned worldwide recognition," he wrote. "He's interested in everything that happens inside the ropes. So can there be any question at all for us athletes about whether we stand behind him and support him when he needs us?" German newspapers ran photographs of Schmeling and other prominent athletes happily casting their ballots.

Perhaps because a second Louis-Schmeling fight seemed too good to be true, no one quite trusted it to happen. Germans feared that "sports-world gangsterism" or "World Jewry" would do it in. Some American commentators, meantime, thought Schmeling had deliberately looked bad against Foord to keep Louis from fleeing. There were rumors that, in a further effort to sidetrack Schmeling, Louis would purposely lose to Mann, fight the German as a nontitleholder, then win back the crown. Then there was the question of war in Europe.