TO-DAY'S GREAT FIGHT.

Taranaki Daily News, 23 September 1926, Page 5

TO-DAY'S GREAT FIGHT.

WHO CHALLENGED? San Francisco, Aug. 23. The pugilistic world’s title in the heavyweight division, closely resemblin'as it does the perplexities of the Jeffrey s-Johnson encounter at Reno, Nevada, has, in the present instance of Jack Dempsey and Gene Tunney, proved one of the greatest uncertainties the . noble art of self-defence” in these United States has ever experienced. Everybody realises that Dempsey had sidestepped for the past few years the repeated challenges of the negro contender, but, when the match with Tunney appeared on the horizon and Wills taunted the titleholder with dodging his frequent challenges. Dempsey and his manager and lawyer surprised the public with claims, that it was Dempsey who had been issuing the challenges to W ills, and it was the latter who would not accept. GOT HEADACHES ONLY. Dempsey, who had been chased about by the New York licensing committee. until the titleholder almost became mentally unbalanced, said he would rather fight than make arrangements for a ring encounter, now that he had assumed his own management he told newspaper ifien. The champion said that he had honestly tried for nearly five years to get a’ fight with Harry AA ills, and all he obtained was condemnation, summonses and headaches. He said his only dodging had been » of process servers in recent months, and that he perferred sparring with an antagonist in the ring if M could succeed in arranging a bout. Coming back to New York always reminds me of the days I first ‘broke in here,” he said. “I was flat broke and ■could not get a fight anywhere when I first hit New York in 1916. At last I got a shot that paid me fifteen dollars, then a couple more that paid me twenty-five dollars and forty dollars; all preliminaries. ’ But Dempsey has passed from the give-and-take days of ten years ago. when he was an obscure boxer, seeking fights, to a position where' a match with Tunney possibly ■will mean a return of more than half a million dollars. He admits that three years out of the ring will be a detriment to him. but he is confident he will retain his title. Day after day Rickard, the promoter. and Dempsey, sought permission for the title bout in New York, but the ticense committee of colonels flatly declined to countenance the proposed event. All kinds of threats were made by the promoter to compel the issuance of the permit through the aegis of the law. One of the principal stumbling blocks to the permit being issued was the stand taken by James A. Farley, chairman of the New York State Athletic Commission, who steadfastly held out against the Dempsey-Tunney match and insisted that the champion first meet Wills. VENUE CHANGED. When there were prospects of other promoters seizing the opportunity of securing the bout elsewhere. Tex Rickard played what he considered his trump card, and announced that the match would be decided in Philadelphia on September 23. He made this announcement after weeks of fruitless efforts to stage the bout, first in Chicago, and tlxn in New York. He abandoned his contemplated court action and settled on the Yankee Stadium in the grounds of the Sesquicentennial Exposition at Philadelphia. MOR F. OPPOSITION. Rickard’s troubles started again when the Philadelphia venue of the

fight had been decided upon, for James J. Corbett, former world's heavy-weight champion, became an obstacle because of more entanglements. “Gentleman Jim,” as the actor and former pugilist is known, was advised by his lawver, John H. M’Devitt, to seek a:i injunction to prevent the battle, on the ground that Corbett had priorly over all claims for such a contest in Philadelphia. M’Devitt asiertec. that Corbett had made plans to promote five international bouts in the Sesquicentennial Stadium, one of which would be a Dempsy-Wills match. Corbett had the champion’s approval for this contest, M’Devitt s:*d. An attorney ivr Taylor and Gunnis Philadelphia boxing promoters, conferred with Major Kendrick in connection with an alleged agreement which that firm claimed it had with exposition officials at Philadelphia, giving it the exclusive right to stage boxing bouts in the Exposition Stadium. The firm thought it should be compensated. Characterising it as a “disgrace,” the Board of Temperance, Prohibition and Public Morals of the Methodist Episcopal Church, from its headquarters in Washington, took a “slam” at the proposed Deinpsey-Tuniiey' fight. To stage the bout at the Philadelphia Sesquicentennial and permit the exposition to share the profits of a prize-fight is “distressing the Christian people,” the board said. “The Sesquicentennial is. international in character, representative of American civilisation. What it is proposing to do, it lias no moral right to do, in view of its representative nature,” the board declared, adding: “This affair will be a debasing influence in Philadelphia, and will extend its evil suggestions throughout the country. It will bring 'to the Quaker City hordes of desperate criminals. “It will divert the minds of Philadelphia and Pennsylvania young people from sport to a commercialised game characterised by craft, fakery and greed. Prize-fighting is the only ‘sport,’ so called, in which one man deliberately hurts or injures another while he is helpless. “True, prize-fighting is frequently called ‘boxing’ these days. But no one is so ignorant as to lie deceived'” by sucli a misuse of words.

. “What the spectators expect to see .and want to see is an exhibition of toe-to-toe smashing, science discarded, ears mangled, noses bleeding. When one man is ‘punch drjink’ the spectators will demand that his opponent calmly and deliberately knock him unconscious, despite his helpless condition.” TORMENTING DEMPSEY. While legal, entanglements with rival promoters were being straightened out. Jack Dempsey, world's heavy-weight champion pugilist, had further misfortune thrust upon him when at his temporary training quarters at Saratoga Springs, New’ York, a flock of process servers swooped down on the title-holder’s camp and attached everything he had from the Rolls-Royce his wife was riding in to the boxing gloves with which he had been sparing. They seized the ring in which he had been giving sparring exhibitions; they tied up his boxing equipment, even his clothes beyond a mere 200 dollars’ worth. They plucked the world’s heavy-weight champion as clean as a buck’s back. The last process-server had just attached the last pair of boxing gloves in the camp, and Dempsey exclaimed angrily: “This has been Kearns’ round —watch me get mine later,” when a shabby car drove up to the camp. Sitting in the rear seat, his wife, who is a motion picture actress, exclaimed: “Oh, Jack, they took my Rolls-Royce from me.” That was her cry as she ran to his sheltering arms, telling how processservers stopped her car while she was out for a ride, and compelled her to get out, though she showed them a biff of sale for the automobile in her own name, and her own driving license. “And I had to beg a ride back here, too. Jack.” Dempsey had been getting hot under the collar as those court officials were attaching his training- equipment, but now he was fighting mad —mad enough to fight Tunney, Wills, Kearns, the boxing commission and all the custodians of the New York State laws in the same ring, at the same time, and no holds barred.

GRITTED HIS TEETH. Dempsey, helpless for the moment, patted his wife’s arm affectionately, then gritted his teeth and said to those about him: “All right—all right—this is Jack Kearns’ doing—lie’s snug for some 333,333 dollars —but my day is coming. When it does, Kearns will be just a little bit sorry he ever dragged me into the courts.” Just at that moment a little bespec- ■ tacled man carrying a long umbrella approached, and began a set speech: “You are Mr. Dempsey—Mr. Jack Dempsey—then in the name of the law I attach this here umbrella, and—” That was too much. The tension snapped, and Dempsey roared with laughter. Then he went inside the eamp to see if there was such a thing as a frying pan which was not attached. Dempsey broke up his camp at Saratoga Springs and went to New York, proceeding thence to Atlantic City to establish boxing quarters at a quieter place, where process-servers were scarce. SIDELIGHTS OF THE RING. NEW ZEALAND NEWS AND NOTES. September 24.—Reg. Trowern v. Salvino Jamito, at Wellington. September 29. —Charlie Purdy v. Reg. Trowern, at Invercargill. October 1. —Harry Casey v. Artie Hay, at Hastings. October 4. —Salvino Jamito v. Nelson McKuight, at Hamilton. October 9."* 11 or 16.—Charlie Purdy v. Salvino Jamito, at Palmerston North. October 20.—Charlie Purdy v. Artie Hay (welter' title), at Napier. If a match the local association has in view materialises New Plymouth fans are in for a fistic feast in the notdistant future, provided Salvino Jamito does not renig at the bulk accumulated by Dick Loveridge during his enforced spell. Hospital life appears to agree with the local glove wielder, and he looks like having difficulty in making the welter limit again. Deservedly popular and a credit to the game, Loveridge is a mighty strong card for the local association to play, and, properly matched, is a better “house-packing” preposition than some of the tame overseas thumpers who have collected our good “siller.” Billy Gibson. American manager for Les Murray, Dominion light-weight

king, who also handles the affairs of the world’s title challenger, Gene Tuuney, must be a bit of an optimist. He is manoeuvring Les for a tilt at .Sammy Mandell, a tough bird who can write •’world’s champ’ after his name. In his return bout with Billy Chambers at Christchurch, Charlie Purdy again lost the decision to the Australian under even more Auisatisfaetory conditions than in their first clash at Auckland when, after clearly outpointing Chambers the referee handed Purdy a decided knock-back by giving the decision against him. In this return bout Purdy was ruled out by the third man at the end of the ninth round, from a blow to the forbidden area—quite accidental but sufficient to render Chambers hors de combat. After an examination by doctors the referee had no alternative but to declare for the Australian. Purdy was decidedly unlucky, being ahead 011 points by the prbvorbial street. The referee, G. Kiugseote. gave a very unsatisfactory display of ring control throughout and came in for much hostile criticism. Purdy’s main point-getting blows were his left, a fine one-tow to the jaw. exploited in the same manner as in his bout at New Plymouth against Loveridge, and a right to the body. It was while delivering this right, to the “slato” that Purdy tripped, and. the punch landing low, he lost the fight. Chambers had a slight advantage in what in-fighting there was. An appeal by the Aucklander to the New Zealand Council is yet to be heard. He will find a referee’s decision, backed by medical men, hard to upset. G. Leckie, the Otago Jad who cantered off with the amateur championship in the feather division at Napier last month, has turned down the mooted trip to the States and will cause the nincsstone lilywhites some discomfort. One who improved greatly at the amateur championships recently was A. Cleverley, the middle-weight finalist, who is tipped as a moral for the trip overseas to uphold the New Zealand banner at the next Olympic Gaines. He is as yet a youngster, but his numerous fights as increasing weight took him through the various weight divisions have endowed him with the skill and coolness of a veteran.

Tom Heeney, Gisborne’s rough, tough, heavy-weight, won the hearts of the army of Irishmen who saw him almost dismember Irish-American Bartley Madden in their donnybrook in the laud of the shamrock. So well did he impress with his fighting qualities that Dooley fans have been asking for more, and a suggested match at Belfast for him is with Davie McGill, an Irish light-heavy. It is not stated what arrangements have been made to dispose of the Irishman’s remains after the battle. BRIEFS'FROM ABROAD. George Cook, most successful of the Australian big men who have journeyed to the Old Land and America in recent years, is returning to his native land. Cook mingled, with varying success, in bouts against Carpentier, Kid Norfolk and King Solomon and other good ones. As there is nothing of class amongst Australia’s heavy-weights, Cook should have some easy journeys—except, perhaps, against George Thompson. Middle-weight Gibby Edwards did not take long to reach the topmost rung in the Australian ring. The retirement of Harry Collins saw the title revert to Tommy Uren, and when Edwards got the veteran on the canvas last Saturday night at the Stadium the result was a foregone conclusion. Uren has probably forgotten more than Edwards knows about the game, but the combination of yoiAli and power of punch must have been overwhelming odds for one who, in his palmy days, was regarded as good enough for the world’s best. Sunny Jim Williams, the successful American coloured middle-weight, will have none of another coloured person in Tiger Payne —in fact, he has most emphatically drawn the colour line in respect to his dusky compatriot. Perhaps Williams is working up the ‘•needle” element with a view to packing the Sydney Stadium at some future date.

Another self-styled champion whom the “heads” know not is a person at present parading the Old Country under the title of Australia’s best at weitelweights. By name Jim Bergen, he has evidently been bitten by the same bug as those false aV.rms Leo Wax, Vic King and Jack Dillon, who toured various parts of the globe chiming the titles of their respective/classes in Australia. New Zealand, too, has had one of them—George Modrich. Local fans will remember what little Ed Parker handed to Modrich in a bout at the Sportsground. Modrich disappeared soon after that scrap and turned up in America (claiming the New Zealand championship), where a tenth-rate pug in the person of Tony Fuente hacked pieces off him and finally bent a few ribs. A spell in hospital must have convinced Modrich that as a hard-knock dispenser he was a complete failure. DOINGS AT HOME. (From Our Special Correspondent, Eugene Corri.) London, Aug. 29. ]t is many years since I went a-fight-ing in Ireland, but trips to the “owd country” in my more youthful days were frequent, and, of course, entirely enjoyable. And need I say that the fighting was served up all hot and strong? For, surely, the Irish have a way with them. Do you, of the Old Brigade, remember making the journey with Tommy Burns in the long ago, when Noah Brusse, to give him his real name, was the world’s champion, for his affair with that big, genial fellow, Jem Roche ?

Burns had come over here, very much like Napoleon. Was there ever a more arresting figure than Tommy, of the unusual oval-shaped face, decked out in a fawn-coloured chesterfield, and with a most approved Napoleonic quiff? He came to knock out our good Gunner Moir with myself the referee, at the National Sporting Club, later made short work of Jack Palmer, at Wondeilaud. of many memories, and generally to earn the right to lord it over all his fellows. Then the Irish gave, it out that they had a broth of a boy in Jem Roche. And Burns, who never allowed even Irish grass to grow under his feet, crossed the channel to oblige Master Jem and his very considerable following. What Roche' was bound to do to the French-Canadian, who, as most of von know, has bedded down in this country since lie attempted the impossible against Joe Beckett at the Albert Hall was little short of murder. And many folk, who in their patriotism would back a single Irishman to set a whole battalion of foreigners on the run. did put their money on Jem, good and hard. Poor Jem Roche. He was sent down and out before lie had really time to blink an eyelash. Practically one punch

was sufficient to put him to sleep, ami cause him to suppose, when he had come to, that the roof of the building had fallen upon his napper. But the journey to Ireland was worth it. A high old-time wc had. The last big fight in Dublin was on such a st. Patrick’s night that never was—three years ago, between Battling Siki, afterwards murdered in New York’s underworld, and Mike MeTigue. They did their scrapping to the accompaniment of bombs and Lewis guns. In those days'death in the dear old city realy staked abroad. Happily there is peace now; and just about to be staged, in the. capital of the Free State, is what promises to be the biggest fight since the unhappy Siki was out-pointed by MeTigue. 1 hope the contest, which is to be between Bartley Madden, an IrishAmerican, and Toni Heeney, will reward Mij. Jim Rice, the promotor, handsomely for his enterprise. There has not been a good deal happening during recent days. As a matter of fact, I have struck nothing of an exceptional character since last I wrote. There has been, and still is, a great deal of speculation as to how far Mr. C. B. Cochran will go in the matter <>t big boxing now lie Jias succeeded to the general management of the Albert Hall. These' are early days to say what Kensington way. For the moment Mr. Harry Jaeobs will carry on.- and he is to have a big show in October, at which, so 1 understand, he hopes to be able to stage a match between Tommy Milligan and Frank Moody, who has for so long been in America. If these two do not take the ring at the Albert Hall, it is almost certain that they will do battle before the present year is very much older. .Milligan, whose affair's in this country are being looked after by Mr. Teddy Lewis, the man who did so much to make Jimmy Wilde a world’s character, is most anxious to match the Welsh youth against the Scot for £l.OOO aside. And I know that the National Sporting Club are not averse to putting on such a match at Holland Park.

HOW LES DARCY MET DEATH. Writing to a friend in Wellington, an ex-New Zealander, now resident in America, has forwarded some interesting opinions on the late Les Darcy, which have been given by Mr. Jack Kearns, late manager for Jack Dempsey. Concerning the New Zealand boxer, Kearns has the following to say: “It is my, opinion that Les Darcy was the greatest middle-weight that ever lived. I will be taken to task over this statement, especially by friends of Bob Fitzsimmons and Stanley Ketchel, to say nothing of the admirers of Tommy Ryan, but I am sincere in saying that tile unfortunate Darcy was the peer of them all. He had what the best of them had and then some. I believe that a fight between Dary and Ketchel would have been the best that the ring ever saw—a good hitter and a consistent one against a ‘now-and-tlien’ socker. You know Ketchel was a ‘now-and-then’ fellow —a miss, a jab, and then he’d let one go to collect the money. With Darey it was all consistency. He was on top of his man continually. He was much of the order of Jack Dempsey, only faster in every respect. His aggressiveness would have made him whip the best that ever lived in his class. Darcy whipped every mkldle-wfight in Australia, and we sent some real good ones over - there. He was only a boy, but a real champion.”

Writing of the trials and misfortunes that Darey suffered in America, Kearns says: “Darcy simply drifted around like a ship without a rudder. His silly ‘escape’ from Australia had been magnified until folks began to think him the worst character in history. He deserved no such condemnation. He was only a kid, with no knowledge of the world or what it exacts. lie drifted into Memphis, despising himself to the core. God alone knows the torments that wrung- that poor fellow’s heart. He lived in the shadows. He ate in his rooms when he could bribe a waiter to serve him. Used to the acclaim of the mob he couldn’t bear the stony stares, the cat-calls, and the jeers of a strange people. The tremendous chest seemed to flatten to nothing. He walked with the halt of an old man, and when Kid Pneumonia ups and belts him on the chin, what was there for him to do but to die? I for one believe that he reachet out his arms to'embrace Death as the only friend left in a cold world. I bear him no malice. I’ve always pitied him. There wasn't a thing that I wouldn’t have done for him. You couldn’t help liking him. Australia loved, then hated, and now has come to cherish his memory. I do. He never tried to explain his position. He was too proud. I could .have made him an idol overnight. Pool' kid!”