Independence Day dawned bright and clear as Reno shook with a frenzied excitement that had been building day-by-day and hour-by-hour.  Food was in short supply.  The saloons and gambling halls had been roaring all night long and those who actually managed to get some sleep awoke to find the city already in full lather.

Although the fight was scheduled for a 2pm start, an exodus from Reno commenced mid-morning and every conveyance was used to get the crowd to the wooden arena, already pre-heated by the morning sun. Buggies, automobiles, wagons, trolley, and practically anything with wheels was employed (at a price) to get to the stadium where the promoters were eagerly selling tickets to the crowd, barking out prices and being met with counteroffers. But the trading of cash for tickets became less organized and more frantic as the fans, afraid they’d miss some of the action inside, physically pressed in on the promoters to transact their business.

By the time the lengthy list of celebrities had been introduced and the fighters (Johnson to relative silence sprinkled with racial epithets and Jeffries to a ground-shaking, approving roar) had entered the ring, the country and world eagerly awaited accounts of the contest by the telegraphed reports emanating from ringside.