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Show Page 10 THE OGDEN VALLEY NEWS Volume X Issue III May 15, 2004 The Rest of the Story . . . By E. Diana Schraedel as told by Jack Schraedel Regarding the very interesting story that ran in the OGDEN VALLEY NEWS, May 1, 2004 issue on “The Manassa Mauler,“ Jack Dempsey, as one well-known radio commentator used to say, “Here’s the rest of the story.” I was working in New York City in 1961 as a construction electrician. My home local (union) was in Miami, Florida. Unfortunately, at that particular point in time, the last job I was on had just finished and there was no work in sight. Now some guys might be able to coast for awhile under those circumstances, but I had a wife and four children to provide for. The local told me that they had a call for men in New York—Manhattan to be exact. A long way from Miami, but when you have four growing kids, a mortgage to pay, and . . . well, you get the idea, you can hardly be choosey. I accepted the assignment. My father, also called “Jack” (John P. Schraedel III), who had been the largest electrical contractor in South Florida but due to the stress connected with that status, decided to just go back to working with the tools, also took the job in New York. We went up together and shared a room. During the times we had to talk, like at dinner, for example, he told me this story. When he was a young man in St. Louis, he was a member of the St. Louis Athletic Club, was a Golden Gloves boxing champion, and had moved up to semi-professional. He enjoyed the sport, even though it horrified his mother because she wanted him to become a violinist, and you can’t play the violin with mashed and broken fingers. Nevertheless, he pursued this thing that he liked to do and became the Golden Gloves Champion. The Athletic Club rewarded top athletes and let him have a membership and use their facilities because it was good public relations. A membership in the St. Louis Athletic Club was expensive, costing several thousand dollars annually, so it was a desirable thing to have. One day the manager approached him and said, “Jack, there’s a man in town, just passing through, and he needs someone to spar with. Would you please accommodate him?” Well, Jack knew it was the proper thing to do and that it was expected of him as part of his membership in the club. So he said, “Sure, just let me get into my gear.” He did so and headed down to the ring. When he arrived there, he saw a man on the other side of the ring with his back to him. He had the leather head gear on, the protection worn in those days. Jack could not really see his face. He could see, however, that the man was in good shape—very well built. At this point in time, Jack weighted about 180 lbs., and his opponent probably 200. Well, he climbed into the ring. They shook hands and got started. Things were going well, when all of a sudden this man hauled off and hit him a really good one—like he was trying to knock his head off! Jack said, “Hey! I thought we were just sparring.” In sparring, of course, the opponents pulled their punches. It was just practice, after all. The man replied apologetically, “Sorry, it slipped. It won’t happen again.” Jack thought, “Okay, fair enough. I’ll just let it go by this time.” Well, the sparring went on, and then whoops—another haymaker! This time Jack was ticked. That did it! He drew himself up, and told himself, “This so-and-so thinks he’s tough. Well, I’m tougher!” And with that, he gave it a lot more impetus. They went three rounds, and then were through. They showered, dressed, and then the trainers at the club said, “Boy, you really looked good in there, Jack.” He said, “Yeah, thanks. But who is that guy?” “You mean you don’t know who he is? You gotta be kidding!” “No, I don’t.” Jack replied. “Who is he anyway?” They said, with some glee, “That is the Heavyweight Champion of the World—Jack The OGDEN VALLEY NEWS is looking for Ogden Valley and Ogden Canyon historical biographies, stories, and photos to use in its publication. Please mail, email, or call Shanna at 745-2688, or Jeannie at 745-2879 if you have material that you would be willing to share. LOCATED IN THE VALLEY IT MAKES A DIFFERENCE Discount commissions as low as 4%. Call for det ails. 2 0 0 3 C LOSED S ALES V OLU M E U P 1 1 1 % OV ER 2 0 0 2 We need homes & land to sale call 745-6000. Paul Judd 745-6000 Office 814-5667 Cell Manager/ Broker Sales Master/GRI Chairman OVBA Real Estate Done Right! 5460 East 2200 North Eden Utah 84310 Connected to the Community The Valley is our Business Dempsey!” Schraedel was stunned. “You so-andso’s! You let me get in the ring with him! You set me up!” He was furious. He was thinking he could have practically gotten killed! He was a very good fighter, semi-pro, but still, to be in the ring with Dempsey, the Heavyweight Champion of the World! Incredible. Dempsey was a slugger, a powerful hitter, and was considered one of the greatest heavyweight fighters of all time. And here the Athletic Club just went ahead and let him do this without knowing who he was up against. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked. No answer. They said, “Well, it went all right, didn’t it? He’s on his way to Denver, he’s training and he needed a sparring partner.” The Athletic Director and the manager of the arena then said, “By the way, what are you doing on Saturday?” Somewhat suspiciously, Jack asked, “Why?” “Well,” they answered, “Mr. Dempsey is putting on an exhibition bout, and there’ll be a good size crowd and a lot of important people. He’ll need a sparring partner again. So don’t make any plans for Saturday. Keep it open.” Jack said, “Nothing doing! Get somebody else.” “We’ll try, but like we said, don’t make any plans.” To their credit, they did try. They had arranged for a policeman who boxed for the Police Athletic League to do it, but he developed a seriously upset stomach and couldn’t make it. Once again they called on Jack. You’ve got to do it! We can’t find anyone else.” Well, Jack felt his obligation to the club and had no choice but to comply. This time, all went more smoothly. They finished the bout and afterwards, Mr. Dempsey was chatting with jack. He asked if Jack had any plans for dinner. He said, “Several of us are going out to eat, my managers, promoters, and accountants, and they’ll talk business. I don’t really enjoy all of that. It’s shop talk. If you have no plans and would like to come along, please join us.” Jack thanked him very much and said he’d be pleased to do so. Imagine! Having dinner with the Heavyweight Champ! What a choice opportunity. They went to a very nice restaurant in St. Louis of which there were many. St. Louis is known for good dining—Italian, German—you name it. The managers and all sat at a table all together. Jack and Mr. Dempsey sat down at the other end of the table where they enjoyed their own conver- sation. Mr. Dempsey asked Jack what he did for a living and what he wanted to do with his life. “I’d like to be a professional boxer like you.” Jack replied. He had related that he was an electrical contactor. He had established his own business at a fairly young age and was doing well. Mr. Dempsey said, “Look, think it over. You’re a nice looking man with good features. You have a business, a trade. If you go professional, you can look forward to cauliflower ears, a broken nose, and very likely getting punchy from being hit in the head too many times. And then one day, you’re an old broken down fighter that can’t make it any more, and on one will hire you. Believe me, if I had a business like you, had a trade, had anything else I could do, do you think I’d be doing this! This is all I know— farming and fighting. Think about it.” Jack did think about it. He stayed with the electrical business and, as mentioned, was extremely successful. Now, fast forward 30 years or so. My father Jack and I, (I’m also called “Jack” (John P. Schraedel IV) are working in Manhattan as in the beginning of this tale. We are going to dinner one evening. Dad asked me if I would perhaps like to meet Jack Dempsey. “Would I!” I reply. “Well, Dad said, “he’s got a restaurant down on Broadway and 46th. With some luck, he’ll be there, and I can introduce you.” We headed over to the restaurant that was large and quite nicely appointed with dark cherry wood and brass, and linen tablecloths with fresh flowers on them. Very rich looking and masculine. The head waiter approached us and my father asked for Mr. Dempsey. He said to tell him it was Jack Schraedel. The waiter walked to the back of the restaurant, knocked on a door, and went in. In a few moments, a tall, large man appeared, dressed in a suit and tie, looking every inch the businessman. He greeted my father warmly, shaking his hand. Dad was so pleased that he remembered him after all those years. He said to Dad, “You’re in great shape, Jack—maybe better than I am.” Dad said, “Mr. Dempsey, I want you to meet my son. This is Jack Schraedel. Jack, meet Jack Dempsey.” He extended his hand. What a thrill! And I must state that his hand was very large—almost the size of a baseball mitt. It was a warm, welcoming handshake. And yes, it was one of the thrills of my life. It was the only time I ever met Jack Dempsey—truly a champion in every sense of the word. So, that is the rest of the story. Celeste C. 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