The Final Adversary (12 page)

Lola stopped before him. “Do you have any idea how we can help Barney, Awful?”

Gardner gave her a startled look. “Coo!” he said with admiration. “If you ain’t a sharp one now!” he said, then added, “No offense, ma’am!”

“No offense,” Lola assured him. “Tell me what you think we can do.”

“Well, I have an idea, though I ain’t so sure it’s a good one. That is, the idea is good, but I don’t know if it’ll pull him out of it.”

“I’d like to hear about it.”

Gardner could not stand the fragile chair, so he got up and walked to the window. A plan had come to him weeks earlier while he was praying. It was as clear as if it had been spoken aloud:
Go tell Barney’s parents about this.
Gardner was a simple man and assumed that it was God who was giving him instructions. He had ferreted out the Winslow’s address and come directly to the house. All the way from the city he had prepared a speech, but now it didn’t seem to be the right one. Finally he turned, spreading his hands in a helpless gesture.

“Miz Winslow, I ain’t no good with words, so let me just tell you. You see, the poor people in the Bowery and other bad parts of the city, they won’t go to a regular church. I mean the real down-and-outers. The drunks and the common women. They ain’t got no fine clothes, and if you give ’em money for such, they’d spend it on booze—and keep on
drinkin’ till they run out. They got no more idea of the Lord Jesus and His cross than the heathens in Africa!”

As Awful continued describing the terrible conditions in the slums, tears gathered in his eyes. “I tell you, ma’am, it fair breaks me heart to see it! Every day there’s some of ’em dead on the street!”

“And you want to help them, Awful?”

“Yes, Miz Winslow, I do. I want to start some kind of place, a mission, where they can come when they’re drunk and when they’ve been beat up. A place where they can have a free meal and a place for the night, you know? Where they feel free no matter
what
they’ve done.”

“I think that’s a fine idea,” Lola said. “Do you think Barney would come to a service in a place like that?”

“I don’t know, ma’am,” Gardner said. “But I do know he won’t go to no regular church. To be plain with you, I’m afraid Barney’s goin’ down pretty fast. Sooner or later he’ll hit bottom. And I want there to be a place he’ll come to, with folks like me who been at the bottom to tell him about the Lord Jesus and His cross.”

“Oh, I’m glad you’ve come to me,” Lola said. “My husband will want to help. What can we do?”

“Well—” Gardner was embarrassed now, and ducked his head. “Well, now, not to hurt your feelin’s, Miz Winslow, but I don’t think right at first, you and your husband ought to be at the mission. It might scare some folks off.”

“I suppose you’re right. Maybe we can help get it started? You’ll have lots of expenses.”

“To be plain, ma’am, you can. That’s why I come. I want to quit my job washin’ dishes. Not that I’m too good for it, but there needs to be somebody at the place all the time. I got a building all picked out, an old store down on Water Street, in the worst part of the district. It’s got room upstairs too. It won’t cost much to rent, but I got no money at all.”

Taking a key from her pocket, Lola walked quickly to the rosewood desk and removed a small metal container from
the drawer. “Here,” she said, opening the box and pulling out some bills, “will this be enough for the first month’s rent?”

Gardner stared at the cash. “Oh, my word! Yes, ma’am, and to get the place all cleaned and buy some furniture as well!” He looked at her and stated, “You don’t know me, Miz Winslow.”

Lola knew what he was saying. “I think I do, Awful. The spirit of man is the candle of the Lord, and I can see His Spirit burning brightly in you. Would you come back next week when my husband is here? He’ll want to know all about this.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that.” Awful burst out laughing and held the money high. “How do you like that, devil?” he cried, his face wreathed in smiles. He began to praise the Lord so loudly that the maid rushed in.

“What is it, Miz Winslow? Shall I call the police?”

“No, Helen,” Lola laughed. “Don’t do that. Come and join us as we give thanks to the Lord.”

Helen sniffed, saying under her breath as she left, “Indeed! Church is the place for a thing like that!”

Gardner shoved the money into his pocket. “I won’t thank you, ma’am, for I can see you’re not the sort to want such things. But I’m prayin’ that our dear boy will be one of those who comes to Jesus in this place.”

Lola walked with him to the door and waited until he was out of sight. Then she returned to the drawing room and knelt to pray. For the first time in days she felt the presence of the Lord, and with that the assurance of Barney’s salvation.

****

Of all men, Awful Gardner better understood the terrible living conditions of the poor of New York City. He knew what it was like to be in the police station lodging room, for he had spent many nights there. It was a room about twenty feet by ten feet. Along the wall was a slightly raised and inclined platform, extending the whole length of the room. On this the men lay themselves down, side by side, without
mattress, covering or pillow. Drunk or sober, ragged or not, covered with vermin or clean, it made no difference. The air reeked with offensive odors and vibrated to lewd jests and vulgar oaths.

It was, perhaps, better than the gutter, but not much, and Awful Gardner had a vision of a place where he could keep derelicts overnight. That was in the future, however. Now, armed with cash and boundless energy, he plunged into the first phase of the Rescue Mission. He had no trouble renting the store, for it was bringing in no revenue to the owner. Taking a year’s lease by faith, Gardner threw open the door that very afternoon, and worked until the wee hours of the morning, throwing out the rubbish and cleaning with broom and mop to get the place presentable.

Everyone knew Awful, and soon word was out that “the Limey’s startin’ a church down on Water Street.” For the next three days Gardner worked hard, and he encouraged those who stuck their heads in out of curiosity. “Come in, boys!” he would call out. “No proper service until Saturday, but I can give you a sample right now!”

When Saturday arrived, he held the first service, aided by the Salvation Army Band. The audience was sparse, but Awful preached as if he were in a tabernacle seating a thousand. He knew how to preach to the derelicts who came to get out of the cold, the women with bruises on their faces, and the men who were getting over a drunk. Awful would proclaim himself as the worst of sinners, then say, “If Jesus can take a rummy like me and clean ’im up, He can do it for anybody!”

The following Monday, he went back to the Winslows with his report. “Oh, it was glorious!” he said. “Just a beginnin’, but you’ll see the devil whipped regular at the Rescue Mission!”

“I don’t suppose Barney came?” Mark asked.

“No, but we must be patient,” Awful nodded. “He’ll be around.”

But two weeks went by and Barney didn’t come. Twice
Gardner went by the gym, but Barney was not there. “He’s drinking too much,” Benny Meyers told Gardner. “He won’t be no fighter actin’ like that.”

Finally Gardner spotted Barney one afternoon walking down Cross Street and hurried after him. “Barney, where have you been hiding?”

“Awful?” Barney turned, then shrugged. “Oh, I’ve been around.”

“Sure, now, you’ve got to come and see me new place, dear boy,” Gardner said. He skillfully led Barney to the Rescue Mission, speaking so rapidly that Barney had no chance to argue.

But when they got to the mission, Barney stared at the sign. “Rescue Mission? What’s this, Awful? You trying to trick me into going to church?” he asked suspiciously.

“Not a bit! No regular services yet. Going to take a bit of work to get under way. Just wait, lad, pretty soon we’ll have a room for the chaps who are down-and-out and some good food for them as have nothin’! But we can have a bite to eat. I’ve got a pair of chops, and I wuz just lookin’ for a good man to join me!” He pulled Barney into the back of the building where he had made a comfortable room for himself, and soon he was busy cooking the chops, talking all the time.

Barney sat at the table, his face stolid and flushed. He had not been doing well, and was angry at himself. He knew he was ruining his chances for a career in the ring by his drinking and loose living, but he could not seem to stop. He had taken to running with a crowd that never worked. It seemed easier to do that than to train. He had a fight on the next weekend, and had made up his mind that after the fight, he would break off with his companions and train in earnest.

Finally the meal was ready, and Awful bowed his head and prayed a quick blessing, then said, “Well, now, how do you like me new place, laddie?”

“All right, Awful.” Barney glanced toward the larger part of the building, asking, “How are you paying the rent on this?”

“Oh, the Lord provides, lad!” Gardner said cheerfully. “And it’s just a beginnin’. Next week we’ll have the space where we can keep men who are really down. You know, give ’em a good hot meal and a spot to sleep.”

“And a sermon to go with it?”

“Oh, that will be available,” Awful laughed.

“You’ll have every deadbeat on the East Side of New York.”

“No fear! The Lord’s table is large, dear boy. Didn’t He feed five thousand with a few bits of fish and bread?”

Barney shook his head. “It won’t work, Awful. You ought to know that.”

“Why should I know it? Didn’t the Lord change me?”

“You’re the exception to the rule. Most of us just go right on the way we have to.”

Gardner didn’t argue, but for an hour the two talked and sipped their coffee. Barney’s misery was obvious, but the older man knew that until the young man hit bottom, he would not hear any sort of counsel.

Finally Barney got up to leave. “Thanks for the supper, Awful. It was real fine.”

“We’ll do it often, lad,” Gardner nodded. “I hear you’re fightin’ next week.”

“Yes.” Barney gave Awful a tight smile. “If you want to pray for me, ask God to let me win the fight.”

He turned and left, leaving Gardner alone. Awful sat there for a while, saddened by the tragedy of young Winslow. Then he bowed his head. “Lord, I ask you to let the boy lose this fight. Protect his life, but he don’t need to be winnin’ no bouts. Dear Lord, I know as how you loves the dear lad better than me, and you knows best. But if you could just cut ’im down to where he don’t have no place to look but up—and then give ’im a glimpse of the Lord Jesus, I’d be most grateful.”

He kept praying for a long time, and finally got up, saying, “Thank you, Lord. I’ll be available when the time comes.”

CHAPTER NINE

The End of Everything

Reynolds Sports Arena was one of the less ornate of the New York boxing centers. It was actually an old warehouse that had a ring in the center and wooden benches for seats. The dressing rooms had been created by throwing up a rickety wall in one corner of the open structure. There was no shower, and Benny Meyers said as he finished taping Barney’s hands, “This is a rat hole if I ever saw one! City ought to condemn the thing!”

Barney nodded absently. He cared little about the surroundings, for his mind was on the fight that was in front of him. “Tell me again about this fellow I’m fighting, Benny,” he said.

“Leonard? Well, he’s not much of a boxer,” Benny said. “Clumsy as a bear—but just about as mean and strong. Nobody’s ever knocked him down, so you ain’t likely to.” He shook his head in wonder, adding, “I don’t think he’d go down if you hit him with a railroad tie! Got a head like cement!”

“So I just stay away from him?”

“You’d
better!
If he gets you pinned on the ropes, he’ll maul you to pieces. But he’s slow, so you ought to be able to stand off and pepper him with a left. Just don’t try to slug it out with him, Barney.”

A man stuck his head through the door, calling out, “Hey, Benny, get your guy ready. You’re next.”

“Let’s go, Barney,” Benny said, leading the way. Barney followed, with another man behind, carrying the bucket to the ring. Thick cigar smoke and noise from the crowd filled the
air as they made their way to the center of the arena. Barney climbed through the ropes and went to the center of the ring, where the blunt-featured referee instructed the contestants to keep their punches up and break clean. The boxers touched gloves, then retreated to the side until the call.

Barney turned to face Leonard. The thick-set, beetle-browed opponent outweighed Winslow by ten pounds. Meyers pulled Barney’s robe off, reminding him of the way to attack, the jabs and the ropes. A few voices from the crowd called, “Beat his brains out, Bat!” It felt good to hear his name and to know he had some supporters, but
they
wouldn’t be up in the ring trying to keep Leonard from scrambling their brains. They could cheer or boo!

The bell rang, and Benny called sharply, “Remember—stay away from him!”

Leonard came roaring out to the center, bringing a right hand up, and it was easy for Barney to step to one side and let the burly fighter sail by. Leonard plunged into the ropes, and as he turned and reared back, Barney jumped in and shot two sharp lefts to Leonard’s jaw. But he might as well have been tickling the man with a feather, for all the effect the blows had.

The first round went by quickly, with the pattern always the same. Leonard would come rushing at Barney, who would duck to one side, putting Leonard off balance. Then Barney would send his lefts in, sometimes with a hard right.

When the bell sounded and he went to sit on his stool, he said, “It’s like a bull fight, Benny. He just comes charging in, and I dodge him.”

“Yes, well, be sure you keep dodging!”

The second round was a repeat, and so was the third. By now the crowd was getting tired of it. Someone called out, “Hey, Winslow, you think this is a waltz? Stand up and fight!” Others took it up, and when he went back to his place at the end of the round, the crowd was openly booing him. Benny said, “Let ’em boo. You’re doing fine, Barney.”