HEENEY IN AMERICA

Taranaki Daily News, 26 June 1928, Page 7

HEENEY IN AMERICA

WRITING HIS IMPRESSIONS -THE APPROACHING FIGHT. CONFIDENT OF DOING WELL. Sa., Francisco, May 30. Tom Heeney is writing his impressions, on the eve of his fight with Gene Tunney for the world’s heavyweight title. In the first of the series of articles by the contender for the championship, appearing in the San Francisco Chronicle, TT " -v says the best news he ever received in his life was the cable he got in Paris from Harvey, Lis manager, to the effect that he had been selected by Tex Rickard to fight Tunney. “I got the cable and replied to it, accepting, in Paris on April Fool's Day,” writes the New Zealander. “April 1 is my lucky day. A year ago, on that day, I fought my first main event in an American ring, against Paolino Uzcudun, the Basque woodchopper. I thought of it when I read the cable in Paris, and how, a little over a ear ago, I had chased about after Paolino, seeking a match. His manager, Francois Descamps, couldn’t ‘sec’ me, an’ I’m no wisp of a fairy at that. How lucky for me he couldn't! It was partly to get a crack at the Spaniard that I crossed the ocean. WHERE THE CHAMPIONS WERE. “I had no idea of meeting the world's champion. A thousand dollars’ grubstake, enough to pay my passage back home to New Zealand, was in the back of my mind. Three-quarters of the globe I had travelled fighting my way around. I was heavyweight champion of New Zealand, Australia, South Africa and Ireland. But in America I knew were the great fighters. “‘lt’ll be none of my doings,’ I said, on leaving England, when they suggested I might look for a match with Tunney. ‘l’ll not go about demanding a ehance at Tunney. I think the fair way for the inVader is to meet the challengers. I’ll take my place among them, and, if I can’t fight my way out, then where do I come in to annoy Mr. Tunney ?’

“But there was one fellow I wanted to meet. He was George Blackie Miller, who had spread the news that he had knocked me out on the other side. It didn’t help me with the promoters when I mentioned it. ‘I want to get him in the ring with me, he's sailing under false pretences,’ I to' i the American officials at Madison Square Garden. What black looks they gave me! I thought I had committed murder, harvey told me outside, and he seemed very sad. •Blackie Miller is a third-rater here,’ he mourned: ‘l’m afraid Mr. McMahon of the Garden thinks the same of you.’ I never did get to meet Miller, neither did I forget him. No man has ever knocked me out, and I didn’t like the idea of this fellow saying he did. “Sure enough, my first fight in America was with a third-rf ter. It was Charlie Anderson, a coloured fellow. He hud been Dempsey's sparring partner, and what a respect I had for the great Dempsey. Hadn’t he knocked out, in four rounds, Carpentier, the unbeatable Frenchman, we thought, who finished off Beckett and Bombardier Wells.

“But I was glad to get any kind of ■ fight. Things were not looking up just then. On short notice, I was put in to take the place of Arthur de Kuh, who was sick. I beat the coloured fellow Until in the ninth round the referee stopped the fight, giving me a technical knock-out. We were, in the semi-final and I dressed quickly and sat through the main event that followed. And here I am now, little more than a year later, booked with Gene Tunney, the world’s champion. “‘He landed without an overcoat or a Bickel,’ the papers say of me. ‘A poor Australian blacksmith, and to-day he is at the gateway of a million dollars.’ As for that I might say I had more than a nickel in my pocket when the doctors at Ellis Island stuck their sticks down my throat. To be honest, I had 400 dollars. It wasn't enough to get me home, but it was more than a nickel. Besides I did have an overcoat, and what a good one it was, too ‘lt’s a cold country you’re going to,’ they told me in England. So I bought myself a leatherlined ulster. ‘lt’ll provide sufficient warmth at the North Pole,’ said the shopkeeper. How right he was! I have not worn it since I have been in New York.

“And, last .of all, I'm not an Australian. I was born in New Zealand from Irish parents. From County Cork they came—the same lovely spot that gave Jack McAuliffe, the unbeaten lightweight champion of the world, to this country. “‘Are you English?’ they asked me when I came over here. “ ‘Say house,’ a newspaper fellow said to me. “I guess I passed his test. NOT SUPERMEN. “I never thought I would get this Chance at the world's heavyweight title. Mr. Harvey used to tell me I would, but I had heard before how Americans were prone to exaggerate. I like to fight and I just kept on fighting. I soon found that American boxers were not supermen, we British believed. ‘They have two arms, a body, head and legs, and Co have you,’ said Mr. Harvey; ‘go and beat them.’ “Nine fights in all I had. The shortest was with Jim Maloney. In the first round he passed out. I think it was Dempsey who inspired me to send over the knock-out punch. He was there that Bight—it was in Madison Square Garden—and it was the first time I had even seen him. I couldn’t speed when I shook his hand. And how my heart jumped with joy when he congratulated me! To think that I, Tom Heeney, a lad from the New Zealand bush, should ever have ears to listen to words of praise from the master fighter of the ring! That sent me along on rings.

“And now that I have the chance at the championship—the first Britisher for years to get it—all my people can rest assured that I won’t let them down when I face Tunney. It’ll be a fight, or Tom Heeney is not a New Zealander!”

Despite Tom’s plea that he is a New Zealander, and not an Australian, the San Francisco Chronicle, leads off the introduction to his first article thus: — “Tom Heeney, Australian, contender for the world’s heavyweight title, etc.” If Heeney wins, a lot of American newspapers and millions of Americans will benin to wonder really- if New Zealand i» a suburb of Sydney after all.—N.Z. He: aid correspondent