CHAPTER VI
I BECOME A PROFESSIONAL
Shortly after my success in the Tatum road race I decided to cast my fortunes with the professional riders. It was in the books that I was to make my professional bow on the historic Madison Square Garden track in the winter of 1896. I entered the half-mile open handicap race which was the curtain raiser for the annual six-day bicycle race that has long been staged at that famous track.
In the half-mile handicap race I started from the 35-yard mark with such stars as Eddie (Cannon) Bald, Tom Cooper, Earl Kiser, and Arthur Gardiner, as scratch men. At the crack of the pistol I shot out for the lead and gained the front position in the first three laps. Not satisfied with this I continued my wild sprint, and almost lapped the field when I won the event, and the $200 that was hung up for first prize. The Garden which was taxed to capacity on that Saturday night went wild when they noticed that I had failed to hear the bell for the last lap, and continued tearing off lap after lap until I had ridden three laps more than the required distance. I immediately wired the $200 to my mother. This was my first money prize.
A few hours later I took my place at the starting line for the six-day race. Upwards of fifty of the greatest long distance riders in the world took to the gun at one minute past midnight Sunday morning in the long grind. This was my first attempt at such a long distance and I was very anxious for the test, as I felt that if I could stay up near the front I could certainly give a good account of myself when the final sprint came. In those days this event was run off under different conditions than apply today. It was commonly termed a go-as-you-please affair. Being an individual race, each man having to ride single-handed, no partners, and with no restrictions as to when a rider could leave the track to eat, sleep, bathe or for any other purpose. Time lost in dismounting was strictly up to him.
Being the only sprinter in the race, I had no difficulty in regaining many of the laps lost in leaving the track. My greatest difficulty being to keep awake. I found the older riders, who were fully matured and thoroughly developed, could stand the strain of loss of sleep better than I. However, I managed to stick to my wheel for a stretch of eighteen hours of continuous riding, much to their amazement. I was only eighteen years old at the time.
About three o'clock one morning I complained to my trainers that I was sleepy, hungry, thirsty and fatigued, and begged them to allow
