[8.5] ABE ATTELL 172-125(51)-9-21-8: The New York Times -
The Sinful Saga of Abe Attell: Abe Attell, featherweight champion of the world and architect of the World Series fix in 1919, was a great friend of Phil Bieber. A master boxer, dedicated gambler and tireless schemer, Abe had more than 170 bouts and lost only 10, some unintentionally. His record with Harry Forbes out of Rockford, Illinois reflects his modus operandi. When Terry McGovern and Young Corbett moved up into the lightweight division Abe fought George Dixon for the vacant title in Cripple Creek, Colorado where they went 20 rounds a draw. Eight days later Abe beat Dixon St Louis and a week after that he lost a 15round non-title match with Forbes in St Louis. Next they fought a six‐round draw Chicago. Then a six‐round draw in Indianapolis. Then they went hack to St Louis with Abe’s title on the line. In the fifth round, Forbes was one with Nineveh and Tyre.
‘Abe gloried in the excitement of the ring,’ Phil Bieber writes, ‘but spent his free time at race tracks, dice games, sporting events – anywhere a bet could be made. During long spells between championship bouts he took six‐round no‐decision bouts in small cities, offering $100 to any local boy who could stay the distance. Crowds came to see the champion and to root for the hometown favorite, and some couldn’t resist taking a stab at the long odds favoring the champ.
‘In one city of medium size the opponent was better than average. Quickly recognizing the boy’s ability, Abe weaved, bobbed and grabbed through the first round. His caution emboldened the local kid, whom we’ll call Roger. He carried the fight, to Abe, who gave ground under heavy punching. As the bout went on the kid remained strong. Abe tired visibly. At the final bell Abe made his weary way out of the ring with the crowd in a jubilant uproar shouting, ‘Come back, Abe, come back again!’
‘The next day Abe stayed in his hotel room and had his meals sent up. One of his handlers was Mark Dansky, nicknamed Doc because of his initials. He wore a Vandyke beard and carried a black satchel with ‘MD’ in embossed gold. Leaving Attell’s room, he encountered a newsman the corridor.
‘Doctor,’ the reporter inquired, ‘how’s the champ?’
Dansky shook his head gravely. ‘He certainly won't fight again for a few weeks. It was a rough night. Please, I must get in my other patients.’
When that story made the local paper, the fans started clamoring for a return bout. For three weeks Abe rested up at race tracks and gambling joints. Then he went back on tour, polishing off the local talent as it suited his fancy. These were small local events and out‐of‐town papers took no notice.
Back in Roger’s home-town, the customers were heating up. A half‐page ad in the local paper read: ‘Roger is the real champ! Is Attell afraid to come back? Will Abe bet Roger won’t last? He can get plenty of action here!’ The ad, by the way, was placed by Sam Long, one of Abe’s men.
The return match was made. There were reports bets being offered with few takers on Attell’s side but the match neared, one real estate operator bet $10,000 that Roger would go the six rounds. The fight sold out.
Roger came out fast at the bell and Abe clinched. The early rounds were fast, lots of action with Roger strong the fourth there was a flurry of punches in mid-ring. Abe seemed dazed. He made it to his corner and flopped limply on the stool, head back, gasping.
At ringside there was a new flutter of betting. Fans offered 3 to 1 that Roger would stay the last two rounds. Just before the bell, Abe’s manager whispered: ‘All OK. Bets down. Got to make that last train.’ Abe nodded.
Roger was crouched in his corner ready to leap. At the bell he did spring – headlong into a straight right to the chin. He went down like a sack of oats. As the count reached 10, the champ ducked for his dressing room. He pulled street clothes over his ring togs and made for the railroad station with his party. They arrived just ahead the train and were on their way in a matter of minutes.
The sleeper got to New York in time for the first race at Jamaica. As Abe entered the track, Creepy Sam, the tout, grabbed him. ‘Abe! Listen, I got this straight. This is the day. Throw out his last few races and –’
Abe pushed $300 at him. ‘Never mind the speech, try and get a decent price.’ Sam bolted for the betting ring.
Abe shook his head. ‘That dumb Sam, always looking for an angle. No wonder he’s busted … Holy mackerel, I forgot to ask the name of the horse!’
Maybe one more thing should he mentioned about Abe. In his 13th year of fighting, he was in St Louis with a kid named Oliver Kirk. After the sixth round he walked to the ropes.
‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I am Abe Attell, former featherweight champion of the world. I have always given you a good show. This is as far as I can go.’
That retirement lasted 3½ months. Starting his comeback in New York, he flattened Oliver Kirk in three. The New York Times article 17 November 1975 Red Smith