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64   Abbott's Monthly
That Singular Senegalese Battling Siki
(Continued from page 13)

swelled up in the black man; he clenched his fists, pickled hard as paving stones by the dregs of countless bottles he had washed.

Siki got up. The right landed again. Then Siki began to fight African-fashion. He walked through his opponent's blows and delivered his own like a windmill. By the fifth round he had the Greek God at his mercy and was battering away like a wild beast in his excitement. His confidence grew. He thought of the old war days, and he slashed in as though it were an enemy he was facing.

In the sixth round, France's idol went down in defeat.

The crowd roared. They liked Siki. He grinned back.

Then he want to a cabaret and celebrated.

France never saw a more picturesque figure than the new light heavyweight champion of the world. He had money, and he spent it as he liked. He invaded Parisian bars and those who declined to drink with him felt the power of his grisly fist. He ordered clothes of such vivid patterns and such tight cut that even the French were startled.

On his shoulder rode a chattering brown monkey, relic of the jungles. By a leash he dragged a howling lion cub-and once, just to place himself on a par with his jungle pet-he bit it. Whenever he went into a cafe he bought drinks for the cub and monkey.

He also developed a fondness for fighting outside the squared ring. In playful moods he buffeted waiters and broke up establishments honored by his presence.

ONE day, the story is told, he went to see a fashionable foot doctor in his office on the Rue de la Paix. He hoisted his leg over a chair and, with a commanding gesture, said: "Fix Siki."

The doctor disdainfully replied that he did not tend black feet. Siki chuckled at this and removed all the doctor's furniture into the street. Then he pulled down the corrugated iron shutters which close all French shops at night and marched away chanting "Place closed by Siki."

Soon after he had beaten Carpentier, Siki grew unusually expansive under the influence of liquid refreshments and boasted that his bout with the former champion had been arranged as a frame-up. Siki claimed that he had gotten mad when Carpentier hit him too hard and decided to upset the dope.
"Georges say lie down," Siki swore. "Siki say wait you lie down."

The story created a genuine sensation. the case was argued in several courts, and lip readers were even employed to interpret the words of the fighters as recorded on the film. At last the court decided that Siki's story could not be true.

From that time on Siki devoted himself to being a public nuisance. At last, after an uncalled-for fight in which Siki struck another fighter's manager after an unfavorable decision not involving Siki at all, he was barred from the French ring.

Great Britain promptly put up the bars against his fighting there. The reason given was that Siki was a colored man, and that it was not desirable to excite the passions of Englishmen by interracial combats.

Siki decided to go to Ireland.

In Ireland he had the temerity to defend his title against an Irishman; had the stupidity to fight him in Dublin; and the impudence to enter the ring on St. Patrick's Day.

Most of what can be imagined in such a case happened. The Irish were in the midst of internal troubles of their own. A bomb was set off around the corner from the arena, and two children were killed in the explosion. In the ring a white man and a black man pummeled each other until, at the end of twenty rounds, Siki had lost his title and a new man, an Irishman, had been declared champion.

Siki had lost his title. The episode was more than Paris could forgive. Paris could be appreciative of the bizarre when necessary. Paris did not mind the peculiarities of one so peculiar as Siki. But Paris could not tolerate the stupidity of which Siki had shown himself capable. So Paris, through the chamber of Deputies, banned him permanently from further encounters there.

Bitter resentment arose at once, especially on the part of the deputies from Senegal. One declared before the body that "if Carpentier had not been beaten there are many who would have demanded the Cross of the Legion of Honor for this champion of fisticuffs."

Whether Siki was or was not guilty of the things of which he was charged, the fact remains that he had floored Georges Carpentier, champion of France and of the world. What more could a good conduct certificate have added as to the power of his muscles he showed then, or to the hardness of the head which took such punishment?

The point of view taken by the French Boxing Federation was rather strange and unsupporting. What would be said if, on a race track, the judges disqualified the horse which was first past the post because it had once kicked its stablemate or had put out its tongue when passing the house of a rival trainer?

But the decision of the Commission was incontestable. France did not want her native son, her former favorite.

England had already barred him. Ireland was openly hostile. The singular Senegalese was forced to adopt new measures to recoup his fortunes.

So he came to America, to Harlem, and to Hell's Kitchen.

There was some trouble about his admission into this country. The African quota was filled, and he was not particularly wanted. At last, however, he obtained permission to tour the country as an "artist."

THE motive of his managers was, of course, to match him with Jack Dempsey as soon as possible for the heavyweight championship. Dempsey was willing to fight anyone of proven calibre. "This Siki must be a pretty good fighter, judging from reports of what he did to Carpentier," said Jack. "I, for one, never suspected any such result. If he is sincere in his challenge for the heavyweight championship, he will be accommodated as soon as some promoter comes forward and offers the proper inducements."
(Continued on page 74)

for January, 1931                                 65
Bill Buckner - Trainer of Ball Players
(continued from page 19)

ushers tried to move him, he threatened to sue and was left alone. His team won.

In Louisville one of his riders, backed by one of the promoters, refused to take orders from him so Buckner struck. He refused to touch the rider. The Shapleigh Company was notified by wire and wired back for the whole team to report back in the Mound City. They were met at the Union depot by Mr. Shapleigh, himself, who undertook to show Buckner wherein he was wrong because the rider was white. Buckner turned in his tickets and keys saying, "there's your tickets and there's your riders-I'm through."

But he wasn't. Billy Boyd, nephew of Mr. Shapleigh, called Buckner and the two walked to the train shed where they held a lengthy conversation which resulted in Buckner's going to Kansas City, Mo., where the team was advertised to race. Buckner was promised a banquet at the Midland hotel if the team won. Up to that time only one other man who wasn't white had been banqueted in that hotel and he was Peter Jackson, the great prize fighter. Buckner was again given full reins and the team of racers ordered to do his bidding.

They won the national one mile open and placed second and fourth in the same event. There was a $150 gold brick for first prize and a $100 brick for second prize. Fourth place carried no prize money. The team was winner in the half mile open and placed first, second and third in the mile handicap. As soon as the race was over Buckner handed in his resignation.

Charley Murphy, a nationally known bike rider, had a vision that he could ride "a mile a minute behind a passenger train." E. E. Anderson was at the track in Kansas City that night. Buckner said that he was through with the Syracuse racing team and suggested Anderson who was riding a Stearnes bicycle, manufactured by the Stearnes Bicycle Co., Syracuse, N.Y., and a competitor to the Syracuse bike, go after the train paced record before Murphy did.

Anderson grabbed at the idea of being paced by a train. Buckner sat in the engine cab with a watch in his hand instructing the engineer so that a steady pace would be given his rider. The track was of pine board laid between rails from Oldenburg station south. Oldenburg is twelve miles out of St. Louis. Anderson rode the mile in 1.05 for a world record.

Buckner came to Chicago and went to work for John West who was head trainer for the Morgan and Wright Pneumatic Bike tire company, training six day bike racers. He handled Charlie Miller who won the championship for eight successive years. He then handled Freddie Schineer who beat Miller for the championship of the world at old Tattersall's hall, 16th and State streets.

AFTER West retired as head trainer, Buckner took Charlie Miller to the old Madison Square Garden in New York city to ride as a partner of Bobby Walthour, father of the present six day bicycle rider, in a six day and night grind. Miller took sick on the first day of riding which put him out of the race. The management wasn't going to pay Miller any money because he "couldn't go through with the contract" they said.

Buckner asked Miller to let him read the contract and discovered that it read Miller was "to receive $700 to appear" in the six day race. Believing Miller has "appeared" Buckner beat it over to Gardner to collect for Miller but was met with stern objection. He threatened to get an injunction outhalting the grind when the promoters looking out of the office windows discovered that there were thousands clamoring for admission. They gave in and paid off.

AT that very same race Major Taylor, who had transferred his home town from Indianapolis to Worcester, Mass., was getting $50 for an afternoon's exhibition of riding and $100 for an evening's performance. He was then American sprint champion and his ability to ride was known far and wide. Major sent for Buckner and the two "got together." Victor Brayer and Robert Coquelle asked Taylor to go to Paris, France, to ride. Taylor said he would if Buckner would go along. Bill did. Taylor started in 29 races and won 27 first places. Buckner not only trained him but started him in every race. Taylor beat the champions of five European countries and returned to the United States, champion of five countries and rightful claimant of the world's championship. Buckner was with Taylor about a year. Recently the two met in Chicago, Taylor stopping at Buckner's home long enough to go over old times and leave an autographed copy of a book which he had written about himself.

Tired of roaming the country with the bike riders, Buckner went to California still believing that he should be trainer for the Chicago White Sox. After five years this dream came true.

THE story of Doc Bill Buckner shows that sometimes it pays to go after what one wants. Buck might still be rubbing down folks and his dream castles, having been built, crumbled and lying by the wayside. But Bill was up and doing. In his long service with the White Sox he has a most enviable record. Late only once and that was five minutes when a street car broke down. Off just one day because of sickness.

There are but few trainers of big league ball clubs today who are not white. Ed Mackall died while holding that position with the New York Giants. The Giants tried one or two others but let them go. Kirby Samuels is trainer for the St. Louis National league  club and George Ashton holds a like position with the Pittsburgh National league club. In the minor leagues Harry Buckner, brother of Bill, is with the Milwaukee American Association club, Leon Benton is trainer for the Kansas City American Association team and the Kansas City hockey team and the Louisville Colonels are trained by Phil Beans.