BOXING

Gisborne Times, Volume LXXIII, Issue 12140, 30 December 1933, Page 11

BOXING

MUSSOLINI HUGS THE vJgip&QIJG GARNER•••• ! gio-nor Mussolini and a crowd ot 70,000 people saw Camera beat I’aolino Uzeudun, the Spanish holder o*. the European, heavyweight title, in a 15-rounds contest in Rome. - ! : Ai,i : ter the fight Camera wa® embraced by Signor Mussolittii and carriecl shoulder high to the. Plaza;-Hotel;-’Paolino has never been knocked out in his life, and to-night he stayed obstinately through the whole 15 rounds with, liis faco a him- of blood, and the Italians at the*, ringside crying : that, it was “FnrilnMioo ! Faulaslico !” 'that a man should take such pmUshmept and stay conscious.

'The ring was slippery, with blood, and the Basque Paolino, drenched with it and dazed! with bruises, cheek bones gashed, and with blood, popring from a scalp wound, wrts. horrible to watch.

’ But Primo could, not knock him out. He diVed after, him savagely once or twice, drove, him murderously into % corner, and then left Slim, “Why don’t you. go. after him, Primoshouted a voice whilei they were riihbipg and sluicing the niastodon in his corner. Pritno. peered out under the towel. “I can’t,” he Saicl, “I linwe broken mv hand.” When the fight was over and Carrera’s huge paw had been held, up, in victory, he lurched past the outstretched hands of the fascist officers crowding round the ring to congra% ulate him and stumbled down the run-way like a drunken mnjp, musing his right hand. A few! minutes later the referee announced from the ring that Camera had “sustained a fracture of the right hand in the ninth round. ’

MEMORIES OF 50 YEARS. DRAMATIC INCIDENTS AND HUMOROUS SIDELIGHTS ON FIGHTERS,

Although he bad not acted as a referee for some time, there was still no referee of boxing contests more, famous than the late ’Gene Coiii. wlio bad had control of a great many notable fights at the National Sporting Club, London, and in rings in Great Britain and on the Continent of Europe. A little over IS years ago Corn published some of his reminiscences. under the title “Thirty Years a Boxing Referee ” Four years later the book was reissued with the. title “EefcSreaingj 1000 Fights.” At that time. Coni bad actually refereed over 1000 contests and had seen three times as many more. Now a new book of reminiscences by him has been issued, with the title “.Fifty, Years in the Ring." Some of the stories in the earlier volume are retold, but much of the book is new-

Eugene Corri wa ( s of Irish blood. lli.s father. Patrick Cony, wa.s a, baritone*. in, the Carl Rosa Opera Company, and as in those days ft was considered an impossibility for amyone but an Italian to become a great singer lie changed the “y” at the end of his name to an “i.” But he drew the line at being called “.Signor.”

The boxer who stands out- beyond the rest in ’Gene Corri’s memories is Bombardier Billy Wells, heavyweight champion of Great- Britain from 1911 to 1919, and at once the greatest favourite and the greatest disappointment that the sporting public of Great Britain has ever known. Corri analyses shrewdly the reason for, Wells’s comparative failure. “I refereed nearly all of Billy Wells’s fights,’’ he writes, “and can say without hesitation that he was one of .the finest types, both physically and mentally, that ever entered l the ring. He should have been a world’s champion. Why, then, did he nearly always fail at the crucial moment? The otasw-er lies in one word, temperament. For boxing skill alone Wells has seldom been surpassed, and there are many old pugilists alive to-day who will testify to the power of the punch lie carried. His g,ameliess, too, though it has sometimes been questioned, was of high order. All that he Tacked was self-confidence. In other words, he heat himself.

“Here we come to a strange paradox. Billy Wells, handsome and skilful, with the knack of providing thrills whether he won or lost, became the idol of the crowds almost a s soon as he started professional boxing. Tliev flocked to see him, sp, that, up promoter ever lost -money on any of his fights; and, with imusual loyalty, they -persisted in cheering him even when he most disappointed them.

“Yet- if only they had booed him lie- m,ight have won the world s heavyweight championship! “I cannot explain this better than by. quoting what lie once said to me; ‘lf they would hiss and jeer at me I know it would be different. I’d grit my teeth and fight like fury just to; show them they were wrong. But when they cheer I begin to be afraid 1 shall let them down, and of ten it preys on my mind until X do let them down.’

“That, I am isure, is the correct answer to the Wells riddle.”

' One of Billy Wells’s best figlits was witii' 'iPpbky’’; Flynn, ® tougli American heavyweight who had been taken. over from. America wVih the demons negro Saar Langford, and who acted as a sparring partner to the formidable black. The Wells-Flynn fight was remarkable, says Corri, because it went the full 20 rounds, and Wells won every one of the’ rounds; even the severest critics of Wells could find’ little to complain, about m that performance. -.Sam Langford was in. Flynn’s comer that night. When Gorri 'alsked Langford, after, the contest, what'lie thought of England’s riejv man’ Langford, replied that fie thought he would draw. * the colour-; Jinol' : v ‘ ■"0

‘.'The gong soundad—the fight wa3 on. We "leaned forward in our seats .—and the fight was over.''’ So Corri epitomises tbp first of the two fighth between Georges Carpeatiar. and J.Q?.' Beckgtt, qaicih; of which ■ Carpentier won in less than a round, 'lj’bete is a well-authenticated, story about this first fight, which was held in 1919, when Beckett was champion of G.reat Britain—though Corri does not this other story. It is that a spectator 1 who hajd paid 25 guineas for. a ringside seat dropped his programme a s the gong sounded for the first round. He bout down to pick up the programme,' and when lie straightened up in his seat again Beckett was stretched but on the floor, knocked out. Beckett had not oven attempted ono blow. As the men came together, Oarpentier shot three straight lefts very quickly to , the rnan’s face. Beckett tried to cover ■up with, his anus and gloves. Carpontier feinted with the left, and Beckett uncovered and met a terrific right-hand punch to the jaw.

Beckett was a "map of moods. “When he was in the right mood lie would fight well enough to please the most captious , critic ; when lie was in the wrong mood all his boxing qualities seemed to desert him, and he became the complete novice,” says Corri. “For that reason I believe that .’foe’s greatest lack was sympathetic handling. Ho parted company with, his managers, and thereafter refused, to have a professional adviser, though there were times when he badly needed a man who knew all the wrinkles of match-making. Ho would view friendly overtures with suspicion, amd toward the end of his ringcareer would not take a s nll T into his confidence. . . . He was a man with no confidence in anybody, just ns Billy Wells was the boxer with no confidence in himself, and Cnrpentior the boxer with a load of confidence.” „ * * *

When Beckett won. the British heavyweight championship his manager was John Mortimer. After his knocking-out of Billy Wells, in five rounds, in 1919. Beckett embarked on music-hall engagements, and a provincial tour. Mortimer acted as announcer fo r Beckett, and the first time they appeared he concluded his introduction in this. fashion: “Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce to you .Too Beckett, the undisputed heavyweight champion of Great Britain.”

“As soon, as I had said that,’’ Mortimer told Corri, “Beckett said, ‘Oi, what sort of a; champion did you toil them I was?” “ ‘I said you were the undisputed champion. What’s the matter with that. 0 ’

“ ‘But I AM the champion.’ “‘I said you were the UNDISPUTED champion.’ “ ‘Those ignorant blighters won’t understand that. You just tell them I i-in: cli simp ion’.”

Another story of Beckett, of the same period; Beckett was acting as referee at a hoy scouts’ boxing tournament, and during an interval a mission worker asked him, merely by way of polite conversation, “"Have you ever been to Switzerland ?’’ “No,” replied Beckett, “there ain’t no Swedish heavyweights.”

Discussing “bluff” in tne ring, Corri tells a story of Bat O’Reeie and Willy Lewis. O’Keefe was a firstclass boxer; lie won a Lonsdale Belt outright-, and even at the age of 33 was still middleweight champion of Great Britain. He once took on the heavyweight Billy Wells, and stayed for 15 rounds, though he gave away dst. It was very seldom indeed that Lilly boxer got the better of Pat O’Keefe. Willie Lewis, a very good American middleweight, who should not be confused with “Kid” Lewis, did it with the aid of bluff. O’Keefe and Lewis fought in Paris. While O'Keefe was preparing in his dressing-room, hi s opponent walked in. After a few polite remarks, Lewis pointed to O’Keefe’s stomach, which always looked a little plump, mind said, “You’re a very good fellow, but, you can’t go into the rung with a. fat stomach like that. If 1 hit you there I might kill you. I don’t fegl like going on with the contest until you’ve trained down a- hit-.”

O’Keefe protested angrily that- his stomach was. covered with muscle alone, but Lewis kept harping on the subject until be left. “When they met in the ring,” says Corri. “O’Keefe had stomach on the brain, if I may distort him for the sake, of' a- metaphor. When they squared up he immediately guarded the vulnerable area with big left forearm, thus leaving his chin exposed.' Lewis promptly hashed out with a fierce punch which landed fu 1 on the target. Down went- O’Keefe, to be. counted out in one round. Beaten by bluff!”

’Gene Corri does not vouch for the accuracy of a story about a contest which ■ Frank Craig, the “Harlem Coffee-Cooler,” n celebrated coloured iffiddleweight from America;, had in Ireland, hut tells it for the sake of its humour.

Craig started off this fight in Ireland by knocking his man down with a beautiful right. This, so it nvas said, is liow the Irish referee began to count: —

“ONE. (Get up, you fool! Get up and give this nigger one in the stomach. Don’t lie there shamming—you’re not hurt.) • * “ “TWO. (Think of your old father siltting in front here. Do you want him to know you’re a coward? -Get up and thrash this black devil.) ’. ‘ ‘THREE. (Get up for the love of Ireland- Would you lie down .to a- nigger?!’’ And so on until, it was said, he had taken :»bout two minutes, to reach five, by which time the Irish boxer was oil his feet

Goaded, perhaps, by the referee, ’s remarks, the Irish boxer rushed ' at Oraig' and knocked him down. Again the referee started counting: ‘'One, two, three, four, five and five are / id. You’re out, you black beast I”-' ' ' - ' >