Big John Fights Again

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It all started on a crisp autumn Thursday while a biting wind was scudding the brown leaves around the corners of the houses, and doing odd things to the skirts of the gals crossing Main Street. I had turned in my column of football predictions and I was standing by the hall window with Bus Henry watching the Walgreen corner where a nice updraft was flustering the females as they scuttled by, when the copy girl came out and said, “Cooley. Tear yourself away from your obscene amusements and answer the phone.” That’s the trouble with getting copy girls from college journalism courses; they’re too flip.

I picked up the phone and a deep voice said, “Mister Cooley? This is Big John Washington. You remember me?”

He wondered if I remembered him! Tyler City’s one claim to fame in fistic circles. A big solid Negro with dancer’s legs, a happy grin, a jaw like iron and sudden death in either hand. Did I remember him!

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