"Sounds O.K. to me," said Terrell. "Just give me two pieces of paper with your name on them. One for Jones and one for Ellis and we can do business."
"Ernie, Ernie, what is it with you guys? Two contracts. Nobody signs two at a time. Fight Jones, beat him, and then we'll talk about Ellis."
"Goodby," said Ernie Terrell.
"Nobody wants to fight a giant southpaw," Dundee moans. "How you going to move a kid when you can't get anybody in the ring with him? So I figure we'll make him into a righthander. Then maybe we can do something."
For his last fight, against Jim Howard—in Miami Beach, of course—Jones was a righthander. For 30 seconds. For just long enough to have Howard throw one punch and knock him down. It was the first time Jones had ever been off his feet.
"It felt so good," Jones said later, "I almost asked Howard to do it again."
At the time, however, Jones looked up at Dundee and screamed, "Take all the righthanders and stick them in your ear." He got up a southpaw, assaulted Howard for five rounds, stopped him in the sixth.
"Floyd, this is Angelo Dundee."
"Goodby," said Floyd Patterson, who had heard.
"If this kid would just get serious," says Chris Dundee, who gives Jones $100 a week plus 25% of each gate in order to secure his services, "he could be a real good one. But all he wants to do is fool around, chase girls, talk. That's all he does in the gym, talk. And all he does outside is spend my money. We pay the rent on his car, and in the last two years he's come in with bills for 44 sets of new tires. What does he do with tires, eat them?"