"If I had it to do all over again," he says, "I'd be a prizefighter and then take up painting."
His favorite artist is Rembrandt, "who paints like a Dempsey left hook." He has reservations about Bellows.
"Great as the art is," he says of Bellows, "he has his fighters off balance when they throw a punch. The day I paint a fighter as I see him, that day I'll be an artist."
In the meantime, Mickey continues to paint and, for self-support, is returning to an old, familiar business. Like many another fighter he will open a restaurant on Broadway, not too far from Madison Square Garden.
Mickey has the name all settled: The Glove & Palette.
A Slight, quiet-spoken young man of 27 years is currently the Willie Mays of harness racing. He is Stanley Dancer, the hottest young driver to come along since the county-fair sport was first presented to big-city fans at Roosevelt Raceway on Long Island 15 years ago.
Harness racing is not overly productive of colorful competitors, but in winning 27 times, taking 14 seconds and 11 thirds in 82 starts, Dancer has displayed a daring and an aggressiveness that have won for him a personal following as warmly partisan as can be found in any baseball park. His admirers are not content to cheer him on from the grandstand; they come down to the paddock before the races and between them to lean over the rail and yell: "Hey, Dancer! You feeling' good tonight?" Or maybe, "Hey, Dancer! Win us a few, huh, Dancer?" Dancer grins as he fusses with a piece of harness, but he does not look around. If the other drivers pass some remarks, he can take notice that the fans do not holler "Hey!" to any of them. It is just "Hey, Dancer!"
Never were the advantages of early marriage more strikingly demonstrated than in the case of Stanley Dancer. He was only 20 when he proposed to Rachel Young, a childhood sweetheart. Dancer had love in his heart, but nothing in his pockets. He knew what he wanted to do with his life, though: be a harness man like his father. Rachel saw eye to eye with him on that and out of her dowry she gave Stanley $250 to buy his first horse, a stout-hearted but lame trotter named Candor.
With Rachel helping, Stanley nursed Candor tenderly, bringing him along slowly until he thought he was ready to race again. Meanwhile, Rachel bought a trailer for them to live in outside their home town of New Egypt, N.J.