The Back Story
One of the stories about people I admire and wrote about in the book Hidden History of Monmouth County, was Rumson’s Toy Bull Dog, Mickey Walker.
I wrote the story not so much because that’s why the Rumson Fair Haven teams are called the Bull Dogs, but because he was one of the feature stories my father wrote back in the 1920s when he was a young newspaper reporter and had to write about a hometown boy from Elizabeth who trained in Rumson.
The story I wrote was also in the Atlantic Highlands Herald in 2018, and worth repeating in part here, not only because Walker was a great boxer and apparently my father liked him, but also because it reminds me once again why I love writing, and that the only reason I have any talent in writing is because I inherited it from my father. I’m also proud that my son and my daughter not only inherited that same talent and devotion to research but also improved on it.
Other historians and writers in local newspapers have quoted my father’s articles in their own research on Walker as well as other persons and places in history.
The Reporter
The story about my dad, Vincent De Paul Slavin and the Toy Bulldog happened in 1921 when the writer was 24 years old and writing for The Index and Elizabeth Review, billed as “the only Sunday newspaper in Union County.” His byline on many stories identified him as a special correspondent to the paper. That means he was probably writing for several different papers at the same time (another gene I inherited).
My father was raised in Philadelphia, and somehow the family found their way to Elizabeth, probably because his father got a job with the ESSO Refinery. He met my mother in 1921, but it would be another four years before the couple married and settled in Union.
The Toy Bull Dog
Mickey Walker was about 21 at the time, born in Elizabeth, lived in Newark and was scheduled to wage “the fight of his life” against Jack Britton, another Irishman who held the welterweight title.
My father thought the story was important enough and ‘local’ enough to wrangle his way into hanging around Walker for an entire day while the boxer trained in and around his home on Lafayette St. in Rumson. His sports news story, written in the flowing, adjective-filled prose of the day, captured some of the beauty of the area as well as the training techniques of Walker and his training team.
The Camp
My father hadn’t spent much time in Monmouth County…it would be another ten years and a few children later before he brought his family to enjoy the beach at Sandlass Beach Club across the river from Highlands. And he described Walker’s Rumson training camp as being “three miles” from the more famous town of Red Bank.
You could tell he loved the area though. Despite the story being about the soon to be welterweight champion, my father took news space to write: “Two blocks from the shore of the Shrewsbury River, in the rear of a bungalow well shaded with huge maple trees, there stands a little house, one story high, and containing but one room. In this room, Mickey went through a good bit of his hard work.”
The Training
Later in the article, he writes: “Every morning at seven sharp found Mickey tumbling out of the hay downstairs for his cup of tea and a few pieces of toast. At eight o’clock he started on the road, and with his many supporters, sparring partners and mascots, covered three miles through the hills of Monmouth County.”
The story goes on to talk about the run, the rubdowns after, the finishing order of the rest of the team, a nap for the champ, then launches back into the charm of Monmouth County and its people. The group, including my dad, Walker’s chauffeur and a few others, sat down for “a good old-fashioned country meal” when “the good old country mother at whose home the challenger boarded, spread on the table fried potatoes, egg salad (that couldn’t be beat) frankfurters, rolls and tea.”
The Fun
After lunch, the story continues, “all hands bounced into Bulger’s (Walker’s manager, Jack Bulger) auto and rode two blocks to the water front where Joe Higgins and Gillie had a chance to show their fancy diving wares…. Mickey sat on the rear of the pier with a fair damsel who showed him how to knit.” The reporter added, “up until two weeks ago, Walker battled with the waves daily, but for the last few days Bulger wouldn’t permit his charge to take to the inviting waves of the Shrewsbury.”
Nor could Walker enjoy the festivities at Borden’s skating rink as the rest of his crew did. While the rest all donned skates to enjoy the rink, Walker wasn’t permitted by his manager to skate, the story said, for fear he might fall and injure himself.
The Champ
Walker went on to a disputed decision in that bout but came back the next year to claim the title, and again to take the middleweight title from Tiger Flowers. And later yet, to go eight rounds as a heavyweight against Max Schmelling. But he retired in 1935, opened a pub in Elizabeth and took up art, painting and exhibiting both still life and scenery.
The Knockout
Sadly, it was in 1974 when Freehold police found him lying alongside the road and took him for a homeless alcoholic. Actually, he was suffering from Parkinson’s disease, atherosclerosis and anemia, and spent the next few years in a variety of care centers and hospitals. He died April 28, 1981 at Freehold Area Hospital.
My Dad
My dad went on to be the police reporter for the Newark Evening News, covering everything from the Hindenburg explosion at Lakewood to Dutch Schulz’ murder on the street in Newark, as well as hospital ships returning with injured GIs during World War II, murderers and priests alike. With teen age sons of his own, he volunteered and was named by President Roosevelt to be Chairman of the largest draft board in New Jersey. As such he was critical of a nation that sent fathers off to fight while leaving young teenagers able to avoid the draft by arguing they were “vital “ to the companies for which they worked. He won his battle with the President for as long as it was possible. When they were of age, his own two sons both volunteered for military service, one in the Navy one in the Marines, later Air Force.
My dad died suddenly in 1945 nine days before Christmas. But he left me, his youngest daughter, with a gift for which I’ll always be grateful
