BOXING.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 3583, 7 March 1914, Page 9

BOXING.

The English White Hope. As I anticipated in my notes of last week Bombardier Wells had no difficulty in defeating the champion of Europe. Blake has had something of a meteoric career, running through a large number of British second-rate middle and heavyweights without sustaining a reverse. In meeting Wells, however, he must have taken on a big chunk more than he could manage. He would indeed have been an exceptional fighter to have gained a decision over Wells, for the Bombardier is undoubtedly a clever boxer against men who are not quite on the top pinnacle of the fistic world. Besides Blake must have been conceding the ex-soldier a large amount in the matter of poundage, for Blake is only a middle-weight, having no difficulty in fighting the middle-weight limit. According to English files Blake’s chief asset s are his abnormal strength and a capacity for taking an enormous amount of gruel. So far as the scion e and the finer points of the garni are concerned ho is generally considered to be an utter novice. StiJ! his supporters must have had considerable confidence in his powers to have sent him against Wells, especially as Wells has had several wins in succession against fairly doughty opponents since the disaster that overtook him at the hands of Carpentier at the N.S.C. in December last.

Ritchie and Freddie Welsh. Mr Harry Pollock, Freddie Welsh’s manager, writing to a friend in Sydney from New York, says: “The enclosed clipping is but another proof of ‘No decision’ Ritchie s yearning, overwhelming desire to meet Freddie Welsh in a battle for the world’s lightweight title. Ritchie has told the public quite a few times how anxious he is to wipe out the defeat that lie suffered at Welsh’s bands in Los Angelos two years ago, and he is going about do-ing it the right way ; he is going to wait for Freddie to die of old age.

“The history of the enclosed clipping is as follows : —When Welsh returned from the west, a few weeks ago, Ritchie gave out a statement which was published in the New York ‘Sun,’ November 2, to the effect that ho was ready to take Welsh on in a ten-round ‘no-decision’ match (Ritchie’s favorite route) at Madison square Garden. On November 4, in the New York ‘Globe’ lie repudiated this statement, and said: ‘lf Harry Pollock will put up, or if he will have those mythical promoters put up, that 25,000d0l purse, and if Pollock will agree to a side bet of oOOOdol, and the winner take the whole thing, 1 will fight Freddie Welsh anywhere in the world.

“Right there Ritchie nailed himself to the cross, as he did in ancouver. Bob Vernon is as widely known and as favorably known as any sporting man in the world. He represents the British promoters and he put the deal squarely up to Ritchie and offered to post the entire 25,000d01. He told Ritchie also, that Welsh was ready to agree to any conditions except making him a present of the decision.

“Then Ritchie adopted his A ancouver tactics j skipped out. This time he headed west. Looks as if Welsh had another long jaunt in front of him.”

The clipping referred to by Mr Pollock is from tho New York “Morning Telegraph.” It says: —“There appears to be small, if any prospects of’ staging a fight between Champion Willie Ritchie and Freddie Welsh, either in this country or in England. “Whether Ritchie fears Welsh or is bent upon not giving the Englishman a chance to make a neat sum of money so long as Harry Pollock manages him is a question. Ritchie is entirely out of tune with Pollock because the latter has for the last two months been bombarding him in the newspapers for his alleged running out of a match with W'elsh on Labor Day in Winnipeg. “Bob Vernon, the widely-known sportsman, says ho represents a syndicate of British sportsmen who authorised him to bid for a Ritchie-Welsh fight in London or Wales, but says he lias been unable to obtain Ritchie's consent to fight the British champion. He made another attempt yesterday to closo the deal, hut failed again.” McCoorty and Jeff Smith Matched. After a long period of wrangling and delays over the matter of poundage, Eddie McGoorty and Jeff Smith

have been matched. The compact was signed, sealed and delivered last week. Jeff Smith gave way, as lie iva s bound to do. M'Goorty lias, since his' arrival in Australia, refused to make the middleweight limit at ringside, though he can get there. He pulled the beam at a little over list 41 b for Dave Smith when he might have gone up to list Gib had it been necessary. Conditions provide “iial neither shall exceed list 6lb at 2 o’clock on the day of battle.

Plans for Clabby. It has been decided that Jimmy Clabby shall meet the winner of the McGoorty-Jcff Smith contest at Ho Stadium on Easter Monday. If nobbing occurs to interfere with plans thought out by Mr Baker in America and embodied in Clabby’s contract, the crack Indiana middleweight will arrive in Sydney a fortnight before the day of battle as fit as he can possibly get. Elaborate arrangements are to bo made aboard the boat so that tho boxer may train thoroughly, and) lie will have a special reserve on deck where ho can go through the whole of his exercises, including hallpunching. All who know the length and breadth of the good ship Sonoma need no tolling how easily long walking and running may be indulged in. The Stadium management have cabled return “transportations” for four—-

presumably mado up of Clabby, his brother Eddie, and - manager, and) a clever lightweight who has adopted the name of the late Stanley Ketchell. \ ‘‘What’s in a name?” asks Snakespeare. The American boxer frequently, and his Australian cousin now and again, would appear to think there is a great deal in a name. How ready the rising youngster is to take unto himself the cognomen of one who has already won fame at the game! Young Peter Jacksons, Young Sullivans, Young Corbetts, Young Griffos, and Young Fitzsimmons’s, and so on, will easily occur to the mind of the follower of boxing.

Snowy Baker as a Man Fish! Snowy Baker gave his fellow-pas-sengers aboard the American bound boat Sonoma and the Somoan Island natives a great swimming treat at Pago Pago. Mr Frank Parish tells all about it in a letter dated Honolulu, January 23, written to Mr Martin Brennan, of Sydney. He says:— “Snowy Baker and I put on our bathing suits, and dived off the ship into the harbor at Pago Pago. Snowy did the highest dive by plunging from Uie extreme top deck of the ship, and he did another marvellous thing. There was a big steamer coming up alongside the Ventura, and Mr Baker was between the two ships as the outer ship was closing in. All the passengers were afraid' that he would be crushed to death between the ships; but Mr Baker frightened the passengers still more by diving down and swimming underneath the ship. He cumo up safe on the other 'side, then all the passengers applauded spontaneously. Mr Baker did other things. My specialty consisted mostly of acrobatic diving feats; but 1 take off my hat to Snowy Baker for water feats. Both of us . took a chance of being carried off by sharks, as they are numerous in the harbor. The water is beautiful in Pago Pago Harbor. Really it is the finest water I ever swam in. We were also enjoying our swims on board the Ventura, where there is a tank I Oft wide, 12ft long and 4ft deep.”

BOXER AND MONOLOCIST.

JIM CORBETT’S STORIES. MEN HE MET, AND HOW. (By W. F. Cor!>ett, in the Sydney Sun.”) I sat with several English and American boxers at the Stadium one Saturday night recently while the preliminary bout was being contested. The company also included half a dozen local sports of more or less prominence. Conversation was mostly about the experiences of the strangers among the people of this country. One and all confessed that they never had better treatment. The glad hand was extended everywhere, and men in all walks of life met them as men, recognising that the vocation of the boxer was as reputable a calling as that of the cricketer, the swimmer, the footballer, the tennis player and son on. All depended upon how the boxer comported himself. Eddie MeGoorty and Matt Wells were particularly strong in their expressions regarding Australian hospitality. M hat was said reminded me of some notes I made during one of many hours’ chat with Jim Corbett in his lovely home at Buyside Long Island, New York, built right on the hill rising from Little Neck Bay. This, as well as a lot of other good stuff f have by me, may be published in book form before long.

Jim Corbett, ex-boxing champion of tho world, is, everywhere in America, regarded as the greatest monologue entertainer that country knows anything about. He gets good engagements always, and invariably addresses large audiences. Mr H. D. M'lntosh would have brought him to Australia months ago but for the fact that he considered the pay asked too high. Corbett told me how different people meet a professional boxer as far as his experiences went. Bob Ingersoll once called him a baboon, Talmage, tho famous divine, quoted Scripture to him and Senator Vest, of Missouri, gave Jim good advice, which he never forgot. Here is part of the story “I got crushed good and hard the only time I ever met the late Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll. In 1892 not long after I’d been matched to meet John L., I was in Chicago, staying at tho old Grand Pacific Hotel. Colonel Ingersoll, on his way to Montana to take part in the big Davis will case, was stopping at the same hotel. I had never met Ingresoll, though I d been wanting to meet him, for, like a good many young fellows of that day I looked upon him as the greatest man of the time—and at that, though he gave me a pretty good stinging, I’ve never left off considering him a remarkable man.

“There was a .freak game of ball for charity between ‘Sinbad’ extravaganza and the ‘Soudan’ melodrama companies, both outfits then in the middle of long Chicago runs, and they roped me in to pitch for the ‘Sinbad’ bunch. 1 came mighty near fiiaiminf for life, if not killing, Louis James and a lot of the other members of the ‘Soudan’ company, and it was only a miracle that they ducked all my crazy tosses. Colonel Ingersoll had been taken out to see tho game by Paul Gore, the manage rof the Grand Pacific.

“That evening after dinner I was leaning on the Grand Pacific counter, chatting with Paul Gore, /when Colonel Ingersoll swung along. “ ‘Colonel,’ said Gere, introducing us, ‘this is that Corbett lad that’s been matched to go against John L. You saw him throw tho ball over the top of the stand a few times at tho game this afternoon ?’ “A slow, quizzical smile crept over Colikiel Tngersoil’s rosy, chubby face, and he sized mo up shrewdly out of his big blue eyes as lie staked me to a hearty grip. “ ‘Oh, yes, the coming baboon —I remember,’ said Colonel Ingersoll, in the pleasantest way imaginable, and going right ahead shaking my hand. The things lie said somehow or another, didn’t sound a bit raw at the time lie was saying them, and I didn’t feel that I’d been stung 1111 later, when I fell to thinking his remarks

over. ’Er—young man/ ho went on, ‘was there over a prize fight in which both slugger killed each other in the ring?’

“I told him that I couldn’t recall any fights of that kind. “ ‘Too bad, too bad!’ he said, still eyeing me pleasantly. ‘Too bad that all prize fights don’t result that way. Do you expect to thrash Sullivan P’ “I replied that I was going to make a hard stab at it.

“ ‘ 'Um—that’s the way it ought to be,’ ho said. ‘Prize fighters ought to be armed with bowie knives when they meet in the ring. That would bo the right tiling for the quick decimation of) the prize-fighting species. Gnarled war clubs wouldn’t be so bad for the purposo, either. Then prize fighting would be plain out and out savagery, and therefore possesses a certain primitive merit, instead of thinly veiler, hideous baboonishness. It is existing in a period of comparative civilisation as it is.’

Pretty deep for me, all that. At the moment I wasn’t up for it exactly whether it was all meant for a knock or a boost, particularly as Colonel Ingersoll fairly beamed upon mo while he said those things, lie went away presently with a kindly nod. Gore grinned.

“ T just wanted to hear what he’d say,’ said Gore. ‘You needn’d take it to heart. The Colonel’s been dead ag’in prize fighting all his life—it’s his pet aversion. When he comes to Chicago and the newspaper men cannot get him to talk about politics or agnosticism or anything like that, they start something by mentioning prize fighting. Put he’s a fine o.d boy, and ho treated you bully. Don t mind, what he said.’ “Along about that time I met another man of note in his day, the preacher Talmage (they tell me he was all there with the acrobats, but I never heard him preach), lie sawed off something on me when we were introduced that I didn’t tumble to the meaning of until I’d asked somebody. You want to remember that I was a pretty young fellow at that time, and maybe a bit to the raw when I 1 happened to be steered against the toppy ones though I tried to be there with some kind of a iiluff and a stall every time, and never side-stepped meeting folks because I felt, a s I often did, that they had be buffaloed when it came to the know thing.

“I gave a short sparring and ballpunching exhibition for a charity benefit at the gymnasium of the Y.M.C.A., in Pittsburg, and after the show the head man of the gymnasium introduced me to Mr Talmagne, who was present. I knew him by reputation, of course, and I was rather surprised that he’d care to exchange the mitt thing with a prize fighter, and he was the one who asked to have me represented to him as that. “ - Well, well.’ said the cadaverouslooking man, cocking his head ts one side, and sizing me up through the slits of his almost completely closed eyes in a queer sort of way, which made me nervous —‘well, well, and so here wo have young David, and the time near at hand when he'll be at battle with Goliath, eh?’ “I hate to admit it, but d'ye know I was just on the point- of replying that I hadn’t signed articles to meet anybody of the name of Goliath. But the head gymnasium who introduced kicked me on the leg in time, ond I didn’t give myself away. So I just mumbled something. •‘•But you’ll be at closer quarters with your giant than David was with his," the preacher man wound up, still eyeing me slipwise, and then, with a rather clammy handshake, lie went

away. "I remarked to too head gymnasium man that I believed the famous skypilot had been trying to pull me. Ho laughed. ‘Just a little way he has with him, that’s all.’ he said. '• 'Who's this, man Goliath that be thinks I’m*signed to meet?" I asked him, and he laughed again, of course, nor do I blame him when I think it over now. He told me the story of David and Goliath, which I'd really heard about, as a kid, at that, but nevertheless the recollection of my meeting with the llev. Mr Talmage made me feel more or less cheap for a long time. “A friend of mine in Montgomery, Alabama, introduced me to a fine old editor of a Montgomery newspaper back yonder in the middle of the nineties, when 1 was still on top. Me were standing in front of a Montgomery hotel at the time of the introduction. I was talking with my friend when the editor came along. “ ‘Mr Blank,’ said my friend, addressing him. ‘I want you to shake hands with a young fVioiul of men Jim Corbett, ’ and so on. "The old gentleman looked at me front under bis bushy brow. J lien, to my surprise, lie suddenly wheeled and walked out to the middle street, where a number of loose cobbles were lying. He picked one of the lumps in his left hand, and then walked back to where I stood. He rather hesitatingly put out his righ hand, and I gave it the

usual clasp. “ ‘All, sho am glad t’ meet you. son —Ah sho' am,’ said the old gentleman after the handshake, and then he tossed the cobblestone into the street. “ ‘Colonel,’ said my friend to him, ‘X never like to inquire into the motive of a man older than myself, but there are exceptional instances. Mow, with all due respect, why did you go and get that rock a minute ago?’ “The old gentleman pushed his hat back, and scratched his head, then smiled and addressed me: “ ‘Son,’ he said, ‘a few years back Ah met Mistur Sullivan when that distinguished knight of the squaiuhed circle, suh, was visiting lieali in Mungam’ry. Mistur Sullivan, suh, in shaking hands with me, dehbuhetly suh, squeezed mah fingers till the bones cracked, an’ Ah resented it, suh —though Ah nevuh said & "ord about it, All sho’ resented it. And when I heahed yo’ name, suh, says Ah to malis’f, “If this beah prize fightin’ son of a gun crushed mah fingulis like that Sullivan man did, Am’m goin’ !be prepaiuhed,” and Ah went out an’ got the rock, and of yo’ had crushed mah digits like Sullivan did, suh, Ah sho’ would have busted yo’ haul with the rock—Ah sho’ would have, suh!’”