TOO LATE!

Greymouth Evening Star, 23 July 1927, Page 9

TOO LATE!

Hawkins’s manager told me this story of failure. Grover Cleveland Hawkins had a peculiar disposition. In the ring he was a hopeless failure, but in the informal gymnasium bouts, he was a pastmaster. Crowds terrified him. Ring history lias many such instances. He was "a cup-horse, until the colours were up.” In prize-ring parlance, he lacked "heart.” The “gang” knowing of Clove’s peculiarity, matched him with a derelict pug, in an unimportant fightcentre. The idea was to get the local punters to back Hawkins on the strength of his gymnasium performances, while his own “gang” to a man, lay in wait with fat “rolls,” to back the admittedly “all in” Clark. The fight (?) started disappointingly. Clark could not fight, Hawkins would not, and before the first round was over the crowd hzd started counting them out. The usual cries of “Make ’em fight!” ‘Throw ’em out!”, began. Unfortunately, the promoters were not in a position to afford throwing them out, for that implied refunding the money to the meagre audience, and it would be an optimistic referee who could hope to make that pair fight. Round after round dragged its weary length. The bored spectators began leaving, one by one, then in bunches, and finally in a mass. Disgusted, the referee climbed through the ropes and followed them. The two boxers were sparring sluggishly. He left them to it. He had no sooner turned his- back than Hawkins seemed to come out of a trance. Wildly he looked around at the empty seats.’ Waves of self-confidence surged through him. Before the departing referee had got as far as the door, he was halted by a triumphant yell. “Hey, Boss, come back hyah and count dis guy out!” 1 Then: “No use boss; he’s daid.” Now how could one make a living with a pug like that?

%%% % % % A Soothsayer.—Temperance Orator: “Is there anything that causes more misery than drink?” Voice from the Back: "Thirst!"