"Here's to the end of it, Mick," I told him. "It's time for you to hang 'em up."
Mickey was silent. I kept on trying, until finally he said:
"You're right, Doc. I retire as of right now."
So we went out on one last farewell party, along with Lilyan Tashman, the actress, and some of her friends. In the morning Mickey said to me: "So long, Doc. It's been fun."
Then he was gone. I felt like a guy who had lost his right arm. Walker was more than a meal ticket to me. He was like a brother, or a son, or maybe a little bit of both, and the money angle never entered into it with him and me.
Two months later Walker was back in the ring.
In his need for money he had agreed to give it another try under Bill Duffy. He boxed a draw, lost a decision, won over a guy he wouldn't even have fought in the old days—and then was knocked out by Paul Pirrone in Philadelphia. After this one he made another try at hanging up the gloves, but fought eight times in 1935. His last fight: a K.O. at the hands of one Eric Seelig.
Then he did retire, and I was so happy that he finally had seen it my way that I went out on a two-day bender to celebrate. The Toy Bulldog was too good a man to hang around until he was walking on his heels.