The other day, I hopped in a cab and told the driver, “135th and Lenox.” He wanted to know why I was heading up to Harlem and I explained that I was going to the Schomburg Center to do some research for a book about Thurgood Marshall. The driver, Georges, was from Senegal, in his late twenties, and had never heard of Marshall. I told him a little and he wrote the name down and said he was “very curious” about American history and that he liked to read books about great Americans.
For the rest of the ride, we talked about the only historical person I knew from Senegal–Battling Siki, the former light heavyweight boxing champion in the 1920s. Georges beamed with excitement. Battling Siki, (Louis Phal) was promoted as a wild fighter from the jungles of Africa. “A chimpanzee who has been taught to wear gloves.” (In fact, Siki was raised in the Senegal city of Saint-Louis and moved to France at age 15. “I have never even seen a jungle,” he later said.) He joined the French Army in World War I and was decorated for bravery.
In 1922, Battling Siki was supposed to take a dive against Georges Carpentier in Paris. Siki was in for the fix, but early in the fight, Carpentier was pummeling him, even fighting dirty against the African. Siki became angry and decided to fight back, knocking the champion down and out in the sixth round. The referee (who may have been in on the fix as well) immediately disqualified Siki for fouling Carpentier, but the three ringside judges, fearful that 50,000 Parisian fans might riot, overruled the ref and awarded the fight to Battling Siki. 
(I watched the fight on YouTube and it does appear that the knockout blow from Battling Siki was a vicious knee to Carpentier’s midsection. No replays in 1922!)
After upsetting the French champion, Battling Siki became the toast of Paris. In a top hat and tuxedo, he was sometimes spotted walking down the Champs-Elysees with a pet lion on a leash, or firing his revolvers in the air. He could be seen in nightclubs throughout the city, guzzling champagne and enjoying the exclusive company of white women. (Both his wives were white.)
Unfortunately, Battling Siki’s reign as champion did not last long, and by 1925, he was living in New York and fighting for peanuts. He’d drink in speakeasies and attempt to skip out on the tab, often taking his brawls out onto the street. On December 15, 1925, the 28-year old Senegalese was found dead on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen with two bullets in his back.
Georges and I agreed that it was a sad end for such a colorful man. Once in Harlem, we passed the Thurgood MarshalI Academy on 135th. I asked Georges if he knew of any good places near Schomburg where I could grab something to eat first. He told me there was an IHOP nearby, or a very good African place around the corner. 
I chose the latter. Georges said he was hungry, too and when he pulled up, there was a space open and he parked the cab. So we both went into the Baraka Buffet on Frederick Douglass and had lunch. I can’t be sure, but I believe I had the “rice and goat,” which I will take every time over the IHOP pancake combo.
