"THEY SAW A HELPLESS VICTIM. HE SAW A TITLE FIGHT. The afternoon sun of late September cast long, tired shadows across the pavement of Elm Street. At the corner bus stop, a small, laminated bench offered little comfort to Arthur ""Art"" Peterson. To the passing world, Art was just another eighty-three-year-old man in a windbreaker that was slightly too big for him. He was a figure of quiet, fading dignity, his hands trembling with a perpetual, nervous rhythm. He sat there every day with his elev