The Boxer : Simon and Garfunkel
"I am just a poor boy
Though my story's seldom told . . ."

1895

Canty picked up his papes and followed Jack. Jack was tall and spindly, not having grown into his arms and legs. He was a year younger than Canty, who was 15, but had a higher rank in the company of the newsies. Canty was quieter, with soft wavy brown-red hair and glasses. There was a crack running down the middle of the left frame.

"Wait up Jack," Canty said in his soft English accent. His parents had died of scarlet fever after they came with Canty from England. His voice was still the same, the harsh New York streets not having changed it at all.

"...When I left my home and family I was no more than a boy In the company of strangers..."

Jack slowed his pace and looked back at Canty. "Com'n. We's gotta go- iss already late."

"I know. Besides, you're my selling partner and you should have gotten me up if you wanted to be out earlier," Canty said softly, looking at Jack. "I also have to go to some places later, so we need to hurry."

Jack scowled at being asked to hurry. "What's da rush?"

"The bookstore down on 42nd is looking for help."

"Ready to run out on us, hey?"

"No. Let's just get this done quickly."

" . . . Asking only workman's wages
I came looking for a job
But I get no offers . . ."

Canty met Jack at Tibbey's for supper. "Didja get anything Cant?" Jack asked.

"No. They said they couldn't take anyone off the streets to work," Canty replied slumping into the booth. He pulled off his glasses and tucked them into his inner vest pocket. "I just can't seem to find anything. I want to get a job, but . . . " he trailed off.

"Hey, you gots us! We'll help you in any way. 'Sides, bein a newsie ain't so bad," Jack said sounding offended.

When they were done Canty walked into the biting chill of the October night. Jack proclaimed he was going to Brooklyn to see Spot. Walking down the alleys Canty huddled deeper into his coat, not thinking about what was going on around him. All the sudden he ran into someone very solid.

"Whadder ya doin here, huh squirt?" Jason asked. Canty was taken aback to find himself where he shouldn't be. "Yous goin to barge in on me and my girl?"

Canty saw a 16 year old girl frowning at him. "I didn't mean anything, honest." Then he ducked Jason's fist as it came at him. A man was shouting from behind them, but his words were incomprehensible.

Jason grimaced at having missed the kid he was aiming at. He wasn't used to not connecting. Canty flared up, showing his temper savagly. He dug into the muscular boy who dared to try and soak him because of an accident.

Canty flew about, a blind fury coming over him. He realized what was happening- he was fighting one of the biggest bullies in New York. he couldnt beleive it though, even as time after time his fists dug into Jason. he had never had to fight before, and strangly now that he had no choice it felt great!

Jason was down on the cobblestones clutching his stomach when Canty was whirled around by a short gray man. "Congratulations, son! That was a nice fight. you use your fists well. I'm Dan Croften. I'm a trainer, and I'd like to have you as a student."

Canty flushed, not sure what this man was saying.He was expecting a berating for the fight. And he had never fought before, and so felt guilty.

Dan looked over the slim five and a half foot youth in front of him and saw questioning int the green eyes. "A trainer, son. Trust me."

And so, Dan put his arm around Canty's shoulders, saying things that would alter Canty forever.

1900-New Year's Day

Despite the lunatics proclaiming that the world would end, New Year's came. Music could be heard from the streets, and people yelling across the road.It was five thirty in the morning, and most people were still out partying. In the basement of an apartment building, one person stood who had not spent their night out rejoicing.

Canty stood by a heavy leather sand-filled bag suspended from the ceiling. He wore dark blue shorts and no shirt. On his feet were soft leather boots, and around his knuckles were cotton wraps.

Canty unwrapped the cotton thoughtfully, thinking over what had been and what may be. He was reminded of the time he and Jack had gotten lost in the streets of Brooklyn looking for the place Spot was going to meet them. A lot has changed since then, he thought. He still saw Jack at every boxing match. Jack had filled out, and had a gaggle of girls after him most of the time. There had been other things going on in Jack's life, like the strike last year, but he still came and cheered on Canty every Monday, Thursday, and Saturday night. Canty had changed too. He hadn't gotten any taller, but his shoulders were broad and powerful. His hands were small, but had a choking grasp on anything he laid his hands to. Canty was still quiet, except when roused in the ring.

Canty slipped a pair of slacks over his shorts. This morning's practice had been good, and Dan was going to drill him tonight. A turtleneck sweater was pulled over his head, and Canty climbed up a flight of stairs. He grabbed his coat from a peg and pulled it on. As he stood outside on the sidewalk, unsure of himself, he had an urge to see Jack. He turned down the street, walking with his hands shoved deep in his pockets and head down. People slapped him on the back and threw confetti on him, wondering why this lad didn't seem to care that a new century had begun.

Canty dawdled down to the Lodging House, and went inside, up the old stairs into the bunkroom. Noise and shoutinmg greeted him, and Race sidled up and held Canty's arm in the air. "Let's hear it fer our very own champine!" Canty blushed furiously.

Jack pounded him on the back. "Hey! I's haven't seen you in a while! Let's say we go down and grab a drink."

Canty looked confused. "It's only six in the morning," he said, his accent a little stressed.

"That's okay, there's some places dat're open all de time. Side's, it's New Year's. An' a drink wouldn't hurt you's none. It'll clear your head up-it's gettin all foggy from all dem punches!"

" . . .I declare, there were times when I got so lonesome
That I found some comfort there . . . "

Canty found himself followin Jack once more. They came to a little niche called The Golden Cup and they went inside. Canty had been here before, having a drink after a fight or just whenever he felt the need to sit still and think. The smoky air stung Canty's eyes behind his glasses for a minute, and they found themselves a place next to a pool table. Jcak got a beer, Race-who decided to tag along-had the same, and Canty ordered a glass of absinthe. He sipped the bitter licorice-flavored drink and held it up to the light, which made it glow even greener.

"So, how's things holdin up?" Race asked, eyeing the Brit across from him. Race had taken it in his care to prod Canty along and stay fit- some good money had been made from his betting on Canty's wins.

"It's fine, I guess. There's not a lot going on now- competition has dropped in the bantamweight division. Dan says they're all scared off," Canty replied with a laugh.

Race nodded. Good, Canty was still weighing in at 118. It was a good division to stay in. More chances of winning.

Jack looked at Canty's face, seeing that his friend was happy where he was. He'd finally found somehing that satisfied him, though it wasn't what everyone else thought would make him happy. This guy- fighting? "So I guess you'll be fighting as long as you're able, huh?"

"I guess. For now, as far as I think of in the future is tomorrow night's fight. That's good enough for me," he said, gulping down the rest of his drink. He motioned for another. "It's going to be a tough one- me against Darrel. He's the top, and I'm hoping to get him early and claim the title. Dan's got me doing drills for up to six hours a day. And then I do some serious work in the morning. It just relaxes me, I don't know why."

Jack nodded. He felt the same way at times, though it was harder to find a fight on the streets anymore.Still, he had his uncertanties about Canty holding up as a boxer. Just a gut feeling. but he hoped, for Canty's sake, that nothing would ever go wrong.

After having some drinks at the Cup, Jack decided they should drop in on a party. It was only eight-thirty or so. They made their way towards Medda's theater-known for great parties. Upon arrival they found the door open for anyone to come in. They flung their coats on a radiator so they would be warm when they were ready to leave. Race headed towards the card games. Canty remembered his glasses in his coat pocket, and turned around to get them, bumping into a very pretty person.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I wasn't looking where I was going," she said in a well-schooled-no-accent voice.

"No, no. It was my fault," stammered Canty, looking at her pretty face framed by kinky curly brown hair.

Jack sauntered over. "Hey, I see ya found Lissie. How are ya? And how's Bouncer?" Jack pecked her on the cheek. "Lissie, dis is Canty. Canty, Elizabeth Wallston."

Lissie held out her small hand, but instead of shaking it, Canty pressed it to his lips. Lissie blushed, and Canty admired her blue eyes. She was beautiful!

Jack saw the looks exchanged by them and flared up for a moment. Then he relaxed. Canty and Lissie would be better off together than himself and her. Canty didn't know many people, so Jack decided to leave them be. "Lissie, why don'tcha take Canty around an' introduce 'im to some people? You'd like each other," he said, looking momentarily sad for losing a chance at Lissie.

Canty offered his arm, and together they went off, Lissie chattering. Jack watched them go, telling himself that Canty needed to know some more people. Besides, Lissie was just a friend.

Canty felt Lissie's eyes on him, and so broke the silence. "How did you come to know Jack?" he asked, his English accent a bit stressed.

"Papa was looking for someone to help him at our stables. Jack offered to help free of charge, and in return Papa let him use Bouncer-one of our horses-whenever he wanted. Jack adores riding, and comes out whenever he can find time to ride. We go out riding together. I love riding. Horses are so wonderful, and they act almost human at times. They're the best animal ever, and I love to go out on gallops. I race Jack, and always win because he refuses to use a racing or English saddle. He has to use his western saddle, with all the fancy tooled leather," Lissie chuckled. Then she stopped. "I'm sorry. I'm not letting you get a word in edge-wise."

Canty shook his head:"That's okay. I'm not much of a talker, but I like to listen to others. I've heard of Wallston Stables. They're some of the biggest ones in the area. Hey, why don't we go where we can hear each other." He felt like he was yelling over the din around him.

Nodding as a drunk bumped into her, Lissie was glad to get out of all these people. It smelled strongly of whiskey in the room. She had only come to drop off some sheet music she had borrowed from Medda, but she could stay and talk.

They went upstairs to one of the boxes above the stage. Canty held the door open for Lissie and then plopped into one of the plush velvet chairs, stretching his legs out in front of him. Lissie sat in one across from him. She really liked Canty, with his shy boyish face. He was pretty cute, and the most polite and nice guy she'd ever met.

"So, what do you do for a living? You couldn't be a newsie. You were too uncomfortable around the crowds, and a person who was on the streets all day would act differently. And you look familiar." She leaned back, toying with the end of her hair. She wanted to know this guy better.

Canty sighed. Newspapers did that to you.He hoped he wouldn't disappoint her or something. "I'm a boxer," he said quickly. "I'm sure you're not into it."

"No, I'd like to hear about it, really," she said smiling. She had a great smile, Canty thought.

As Canty told his story, Lissie listened sympathetically. Here, she thought, was a boy who was homesick for his country, and stuck in a place where he didn't know anyone. He was only happy when he was talking about boxing. She took it upon herself to find him a good friend to be with him through anything. Namely-herself. "Could I come to your match tomorrow? It would be fun, and I'd know more of what you were talking about that way." She looked into his face with pleading eyes.

Canty hesitated. He was going to take this girl he liked so much to see him get knocked around and do some knocking around in what could be a very bloody battle? He saw her eyes and gave in reluctantly. He wanted to please her. "Okay, be there at three thirty. It starts at four and I'll have a seat reserved for you. Oh, dress plainly. There's a lot of guys there who would take advantage or bug you."

She nodded.

And so it was settled.

Cnaty swung his arms around in arcs and rolled his head. He jumped up and down a few times. He stood facing the wall, looking at a picture of James J. Jeffries, who had become the world heavyweight boxing champion in 1899. The fight had been legendary-Dan had taken him to see it on June 9th at Coney Island. Jeffries had knocked out Bob Fitzsimmons in the 11th round, and Canty was so impressed by Jeffries style that he kept a picture to remind him of what he could one day do. Dan poked his balding head in through the door.

"Hey. Ready?" Canty nodded vigorously. "Good. Throw a few punches on da bag, then drop and do thirty." The trainer watched as his student, in his tight blue pants and white belt, easily lapped out at the bag, and then did his thirty, his shoulders moving easily. He jumped up, not breathing hard at all. Yup, the kid was as ready as he'd ever be. "Okay. Remember, watch your face and don't get caught by da ropes. Ye got it otherwise."

Canty and Dan walked out to the arena. The air was smoky in the building, and the noise was thunderous. He saw Jack and Lissie by the arena. Jack grinned and gave a thumbs-up while Lissie stood on her chair waving her dainty bonnet and whooping like the thirteen year old boy behind her. Canty grinned, feeling confident with his friends there. He climbed into the 24 by 24 foot ring while the referee introduced the two boxers. The guy on the opposite side of the ring was tall and had a large stomach hanging over his red pants. Canty had no idea how he weighed in at 118.

The bell rang, and Canty went forward to punch gloves with the other. They circled each other for a minute, then Canty ducked as the other threw a clumsy punch at him. Canty lept in, backing him against a rail and punching hard and fast with his right. The other's nose began to bleed, as did his split lip. Canty backed towards the middle, seeing the guy pretty beat up, and a few more punches were thrown before the bell sounded. Canty caught a towel from Dan, and wiped his face. So far all he had was a black eye. No problem. he felt great, and was looking forward to the rest of the fight. Lissie and Jack cheered as the bell sounded again, signaling round two. It was the same as before, but Canty used his left, catching the guy in the jaw. Canty drew back and aimed for the guy's forehead. As the fist connected with a smack, the other dropped. Canty waited for him to get up, but he didn't. He moaned and held his head as the ref caught Canty's arm and held it in the air. Canty thought of when Race had done that yesterday. He was confused though. It was only the second round! Surely the title wasn't his after only two rounds! Lissie ran through the ropes and hugged Canty, ref and all. Canty buried his face in her wild hair, and when he looked up Jack was standing there. He spat on his hand and held it out grinning.

Canty sat in his slacks on an old sofa in his warm-up and changing room. Lissie sat on the arm next to him, her skirts hiked up to her knees-much cooler and more comfortable- while Jack sat on a backwards chair across from them, head on top rung while Canty told them of his thoughts and feelings of the fight. There was a knock at the door, and as Canty called out that it was open, in stepped the contender. His face was black and blue, in need of a few stitches, and he scowled at Canty. Lissie pulled down her skirts as she saw his mean pig eyes traveling up her frame.

"Ya thinks you fought good out dere, huh?" Canty nodded defiantly. "Dat wasn't no fight! It was rigged. Dere's no way you could have beat me!" the guy's voice raised to a yell. Jack got up and moved towards him. He could smell beer on the guy's breath.

"We don't want no trouble. Why don't we go out for something to eat," he said softly, ready to fight if needed. Canty stood up next to him. "Yeah, bill's on me. What do you say?" Canty said holding out his hand.

"I ain't goin nowhere!" the burly lad raced across the room and picked up the chair Jack had been sitting on. "An' neither are you!" With that, he crashed the chair down at Canty. Canty dodged, but then the chair caught him in the knee cap. Lissie and Jack caught him, and the champion went down with a cry of pain.

Conclusion

Canty underwent surgery. Everything went well, but there was a slight limp and his boxing days were over. Canty was bitter, having nothing else in life that he wanted. All lost because he had won. He had to turn to becoming a newsie again to scrape up a living, and found comfort in Jack. He saw Lissie and she came to see him, hoping to comfort him. Canty had become another person, rough and ready for any fight, though it hurt when he fought, and was not willing to let go of what happened, and what may have been.

" . . . In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries a reminder
Of every blow that laid him down
Or cut him 'till he cried out, in his anger and his shame
'I am leaving, I am leaving,'
But the fire still remains."