THE MIGHTY ATOM OF THE RING

Hawera Star, Volume LIV, 2 March 1935, Page 13

THE MIGHTY ATOM OF THE RING

Jimmy Wilde —The Greatest Champion of All

FOUGHT TO PLEASE PRINCE OF WALES

T lON-HEARTED LITTLE JIMMY, WILDE was not only the greatest nngg remembered by hundreds Welsh mountains, but the gamest fighter boxing has ever produced. i M) occasio n he fought of New Zealanders who saw him fight Pal Moore in 1918 and again i • - ma de n 0 mistake the second Moore there was a terrible uproar because the American got the decisi • y t wonde xs of pugilism,” time and knocked him out. “I class him, without hesitation, as one of the three says James Butler.. “There will never be another like him. Yet this tinyw ighed less thau a harder than some heavy-weights and hit with a speed and ’ 1 freak Hq -Jas not. What then was jockey. Because of these amazing powers he was often called a fighting freau. m was the secret of his success?

“Listen, Sam/’ exclaimed Ted Lewis. “Your boy weighs in at the ringside or the fight’s off.’’ And he brought one big fist down with a crash on the massage table as if to stop any further argument once and for all.

f 1+- - 1 c -x , t . The muscles rippled smoothly on | and tigerish ferocity matched his b - e arms and white shouhlers, and “ T , r , - it semed ridiculous to expect those The Itaham-American was a arms of jimmy’s to scrapper, far too clever and finished V 1 , a battler for any man in the.world with all the confidence to give away weight to and Jimmy, « 11 d eal ., in the fight wily little campaigner that he was, , . ’ r i • „xx i iad realised this before the first round wan trickle of blood to As he dropped back on to his stool Ji “™;’ h \Xrd punch opened an old he knew m his heart that never be. wiM e’s eye. Then suddenly fore had he encountered such a for- , . , Vilup the •iii x i • 1. x those lead-grey eyes blazed blue, tne midahle opponent as th,s eye o„,c hat- * J face set into a grim tier from the States; yet not by even mask ' and the Welsh Wizard a nicker of an eyelash did he betray B , ~ i • , i i . tore mto action. his thoughts. Desperately the big fellow fought Z * ore ■ i^ erm +e W ‘‘i back. He was not lacking in pluck, confident fury, until midway through of J imm ys attack swept the second round, ducking his fair , , . . , , „„ , vprP head a split second too late, he took through h,s defence as though it were a vicious uppercut on the chin. Wilde fought with demon-like feroHerman on to Him Like a Tiger city, made all the more terrifying beBack to the ropes he reeled, with cause of the icily cool brain behind Herman after him* like a tiger; but his savage assau ts. not for nothing had they called Jimmy I °'‘ b I J n . T io°- m g. PjP a Ghost with a Hammer in his hand. >' “ P' stt "' s - J he ‘ Shaken though he was, ho slipped thud of h,s gloves on tlhe to to < out of trouble like a human shadow, b =» d »” d b ° d y bocame “ lmos,i mon °- and for the remainder of the round he tenons. , , , • In the tenth round the Welshman was a phantom so elusive that not AU L ... , • , hn rr -u, Ji floored Conn six times, and m the even Herman, with all his ring-crart, i , r eleventh he took three more long could lay a glove on him. Yes, and for fourteen more furious rounds co !i n s ; . , ond T . - , , , ~ i 11 i Bv this time, blood bespatteied and Jimmy fought, and more than held hi. J h d k J<)e „. fls nothing but „ own with a man 281 b heavier than P t for the f „ , Jimmy . s att aek. himself—a man who n-as acknowledg- had been down four times j„ ed to be one of the world s best ban- twelfih the referee stepped in and Never although this battle was to at this tim was in the mark the beginning of the end for and j rem ember that the Wilde, did he fight with greater bnl- authorities raised all ortb of oh _ hance or wizar y. . , , stacks v when 'this match was first Time and time, again his lair head ' ' would >veave and bob almost on a - • level with his knees as he avoided one FOUgilt lOf 3 D3g 01 DiflltlOlluS of Herman’s whirlwind attacks. Then, Although they n.ially consented to with, the speed of lightning, he would allow Jimmy to fight, they refused to straighten up and rip a terrible tat- him do so lor an y sor t G f purse, too of lefts and rights into the Ital- but the promoters avoided this difian’s ribs. Acuity by presenting Mrs Wilde with But in the seventeenth round a bag of diamonds. Jimmy, who so seldom made a mis- J met the champion and his wife in take, was craftily tricked into defeat the strand the day after the fight. Herman, furiously Metermijicd to Jimmy was carrying the bag of prestop the elusive little champion, came cious stones in his coat pocket \ straight from his corner with his fists Yes, on the day he fought Joe Conn swinging. Instead of feinting he let Wilde was a puglistic marvel. But drive with a straight right. what a tragically different Wilde it It was a smashing punch with all was w ho faced the coffee-coloured the weight of Pete’s muscular should- p anc ho Villa in New York five years ers behind it—and it was as unex- later .... peeled and unorthodox as it was ter- -Then, of all the attributes that made rifle- him great, Jimmy had but one left— Jimmy, momentarily caught nap- bis heroic courage in the face of treping, took it clean on the chin. There mendous odds. was a crisp crack as it landed, and That terrible punch that had topthe fly-weight champion of the world p i ed over men and 2 () pounds heav-\j-ent hurtling backward through the J j er than himself, his uncanny judgropes

But shrewd little Sam Goldstein was just as obstinate. ”0.K., Ted,” he said. “Pete weighed in this afternoon, and he doesn’t get on the scales again to-day for you or anybody else. That’s final!” . “Final, is it!’’ snapped Lewis. All right!” He swung round to the flaxen-haired little man with the level, lead-grey eyes who, with a dressinggown draped about his slight shoulders, fidgeted nervously in one corner of the dressing-room. “You might as well get dressed, Jimmy,” said Lewis. “We’re going home!” For more than an hour the babyfaced little scrapper whom they called the Mighty Atom, or the Welsh Wizard, and whose uncanny skill and terrible punch had won Kim the Flyweight Championship of the World, had sat in his dressing-gown impatiently waiting to meet Pete Herman, the whirlwind Italian-American bantam from New York.

All the time the champion’s dress-ing-room had been the centre of a. heated argument between his manager and Sam Goldstein, who handled Herman’s affairs, because the American, who was overweight, refused to step on to the scales at the ringside. Now, as the two managers ceased shouting and wrangling, the angry murmur of the vast crowd who had packed the Albert Hall penetrated to the dressing-room. Rumours that the big fight "was off were already spreading through the audience, and they were beginning to show their displeasure at the delay in no uncertain fashion.

And just as Lewis told Jimmy Wilde to put on his clothes the dressingroom door swung back to reveal the familiar figure of that Prince of Sportsmen, Lord Lonsdale, who beckoned to the champion’s manager and engaged him in a whispered conversation.

Lord Lonsdale had brought a personal message from the Prineje of Wales, AA'ho w’as at the ringside, and was anxious that the crowd should not be disappointed by the postponement of the fight. As son as he heard this, Jimmy took matters into his oAvn hands. “All right,” he said, “I don’t care what Herman Aveighs. “I’ll fight for the Prince of Wales!”

ment, his astonishing speed—sail -of

A minute later, with the crowd’s rising roar of welcome in his ears, the tiny champion from the Welsh coal mines was making his way to the ringside.

Over he toppled, like a log, and fell in such a manner that the back of his head struck the wooden edge of the ring with a sickening thud.

these he had lost. There was nothing left but his great heart, t and this ,afone carried him through those seven terrible rounds with the scrapper from Manila. At the end of the second round Wilde, who by that time knew that nothing could save him from defeat, had an easy chance of saving his title. Villa, failing to hear the gong, dropped him with a smashing blow on the nape of the neck—the rabbit-punch—-after the round had ended. Jimmy had to be carried to his corner. But where many men would vigorously have demanded the decision on a foul, the champion let the incident pass with nothing but a formal protest. For five more rounds he struggled gamely on, fighting a hopeless battle. At times he missed so badly that it was difficult to believe that this was the Mighty Atom who had so long reigned supreme. Villa, fighting furiously from gong to gong, punished the Welshman terribly, but- Jimmy v’ould not hear of surrender. Even though the snap had gone from his punches and his feet had lost their old magic speed, he persisted in fighting as he had always done, with his fair head thrust forward and his gloves working overtime. But while in the days of his greatness he could have done this and made Villa miss nine times out of ten. he could employ the tactics effectively no longer. Although he did not know, Wilde was suffering from the effects of that blow on the head in the Herman fight. Yet, though he was slowly but sure Iy being battered into unconsciousness, he would not throw up the sponge.

Just as he was stepping Up to duck bene'ath the ropes, the Prince of Wales leaned forward and held outs his right hand.

Fighting Spirit Still Unbroken

A murmsr of apprehension ran around the ringside, but no one, not even Jimmy himself, realised the seriousness of that injury, or guessed that subsequently it was to rob him of his title, and indeed, write finis to his whole career. . . .

“Thank you, Wilde,” he said. “The hest of luck!”

Jimmy’s pale face flushed with pleasure as he turned. “I’ll do my best your Royal Highness,” he promised, “but 1 don’t think miich of my chance after so much bother. Anyway, he’ll have to knock me out to beat me.”

For Wilde, when he struck his head in that dramatic seventeenth round of his fight with Herman, sustained severe concussion which was permanently to affect his head. Yet, despite this, and despite the smashing punch He had taken on the chin, the gallant little Welshman staggered to his feet, and dazedly shaped up to the Italian bantam.

Then he slipped through the ropes, a diminutive David of the ring, ready to tackle yet another Goliath, for the dark-haired, swarthily handsome Herman was almost two stone heavier.

A Genius of the Gloves But, rattled and frayed though Wilde’s nerves were by the disturbance in his dressing-room, the thought of the weight he was giving away left him unmoved. That was because, from the day he began taking on all comers in a touring boxing booth, he had been toppling over fellows bigger than himself with almost ridiculous ease.

A moment later he was on the floor again, but although his strength had almost gone and his bemused brain refused to function, his fighting spirit was still unbroken, and time after time he scrambled to his feet.

Even when Jack Smith, the referee, attempted to stop him taking further punishment Jimmy would not listen to him. He still tried to fight on until at last Smith had to pick him up under his arm and carry him across the ring to his corner. “I’m sorry, Jimmy,” he told the furiously protesting champion, “but 1 had to pick you up because you don’t know how to lie down!”

Such a midget he was, so frail and pale, and with such miserably thin and undeveloped arms and legs, that it seemed impossible to think of him as a world beater.

Yet this tiny Welshman, who weighed less than a jockey, could punch harder than some heavy-weights and with amazing accuracy and speed. Because of his terrific punching powers and unorthodox methods, Wilde has often been described as a fighting freak.

And how true that was of Jimmy! The Mighty Atom did not know the meaning of the word surrender. No matter how much punishment he was taking he would never allow the towel to be thrown in from his corner.

The first time he fought Tracy Lee, Wilde was a sick man. I remember how, after the fight, his right ear was found to be so utterly damaged that somebody wanted to cut it off with a knife. Yet although Jimmy knew he was fighting a losing battle, he never murmured.

But he was not. A pugilistic marvel—yes. But a freak—definitely no.

Jimmy Wilde was more, much more than that. I class him without hesitation, as one of the three great wonder of pugilism. And the other two were Bob Fitzsimons and Young Griffo. There was nothing freakish in his devastating punch—amazing though it was. The whole secret of it, as Jimmy himself told me, was in the correctness of the timing. For hour after hour, in the days before he was champion, the former pit bov would practise punching, until he had cultivated a sense of judgment of distance and timing that bordered upon the uncanny.

One of Wilde’s epic scraps was with that tough and clever East End fighter, Joe Conn, just before the end of the war.

Attack Sweeps all Before it. Conn was regarded as one of the best nine-stone performers in the country, and few of the thousands who packed the Stamford Bridge arena on that hot Saturday afternoon in the September of 1918 believed that the 6st 4lb Welshman could ever hold his own against him. When they crossed the open-air ring to shake hands the contrast was striking. Joe towered over the tiny champion; and while Jimmy was as frail and pale as ever Conn looked strong and dangerous.

There will never be another Jimmy Wilde. He was the greatest gamecock boxing will ever know. But when he clashed with Pete Herman he found himself, for the first time in his long and brilliant career, facing a man whose skill and cunning

His Last Grand Gesture At the riose of the sixth round, with the crowd clamouring for him to surrender, Patsey Haley, the referee, crossed to the champion’s corner to consult his seconds. But Jimy answered for them. Through bruised and bleeding lips he forced the words: “I’ll keep going until I go out.” And he did. Jimmy’s exit was heroic, xvorthy of an epic. Staggering from his corner in the seventh round for the doom that he knew was inevitable, Wilde went straight for Villa with the pluck of a lion.

’ It was the last grand gesture of a great-hearted little scrapper. A minute later he was lying face downwards -—out to the world. Never since that day has he put his hands into a pair of boxing gloves, but as long as the ring lasts he will be remembered as the greatest champion of them all!