“Rickard had an even bigger sellout crowd using out-and-out flagwaving patriotism as the draw for the Dempsey-Carpentier boxing match.”

“What year was that?” interrupted Billy.

“A long time ago,” answered Sonny, quickly, because he didn’t know. “Anyway, Dempsey was American. Carpentier was French. The Dempsey-Carpentier fight was the first million-dollar gate in boxing history.”

Billy Constable smiled from ear to ear to show his appreciation for Mr. Rickard’s incredible career.

“Rickard was brilliant. He really was,” sighed Sonny Lieberman, stars twinkling in his eyes. “Rickard made being a fight promoter prestigious.”

Billy wanted to stop Mr. Lieberman and ask what “prestigious” meant but decided to quit while he was ahead.

“It isn’t prestigious anymore,” continued Sonny Lieberman. “Most fight promoters, no, make that all fight promoters these days are thugs. I’m going to be the next clean-cut Ivy League Tex Rickard–type fight promoter. I’m going to make boxing prestigious again.”

“What will I do, Mr. Lieberman?”

“You will be my assistant.”

Billy Constable was stunned again.

“You’ll get a raise and your own office, and your own secretary. Or…maybe you’ll share a secretary with someone I may bring in.”

Billy mumbled, “Thank you, sir. Who may you bring in?”

“A white-bread guy. We need a white-bread guy around the office. A Dick Clark type. Me, I’m a Jew, and you’re a hillbilly, no offense intended. So a white-bread publicity and promotion executive may be just what the doctor ordered. You know, a nice Christian face to offset you and me.”

Sonny smiled at Billy.

Billy smiled at Sonny, even though he still hadn’t the faintest idea what a white-bread guy was.

“So,” asked Billy, “are you going to hire Dick Clark?”

“No. Someone who looks sorta like him. I have someone in mind.”

“Great!” said Billy Constable with enthusiasm, trying to get in the spirit of things.

“That will be all for now, Billy. I have to tell my father I’m leaving the company. Onward and upward.”

“Why the limp?” asked Sonny’s father.

“I tripped.”

“Serves you right, you clumsy fool. Whattaya want?”

“I’m leaving the company.”

“Leaving the company!” thundered a red-faced Max Lieberman, sitting behind his mammoth desk in his mammoth office. “To be what?”

“A fight promoter, Pop.”

“A what?”

“A fight promoter. I’m going to promote fights.”

“Get the fuck outta my office before I crack your goddamn head open.”

Those were the last words Sonny’s father would ever say to him for the rest of either of their lives.

The following week, Sonny departed the Empire Clothing Company for good and always, with skinny Billy Constable in tow. The two worked out of Sonny’s place in the Century Apartments at 25 Central Park West. Sonny had an imitation bronze plaque made for the apartment door that read:

INTERNATIONAL BOXING PROMOTIONS
SONNY LIEBERMAN—PRESIDENT
BILLY CONSTABLE—ASSISTANT