Richmond planet. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1883-1938, 1910-08-06
Some Observations Upon the Per
sonai Encounter of Mr.. JeffrieS
With Mr.. johnson.
BY ARTHUR RUHL.

The battle about which whole
woodpulp libraries have been writ
ten during the past few months is
over, and the great Jeffries myth has
vanished into the bright Nevada sun
shine. AS Mr.. Jeffries himself and
innumerable experts had stated re-
peatedly that the one-time champion
was never filter in his life. one novice
hesitates to dim the luster OF his
rivals achievement by concluding
that he didn't come back " Never
theless, the fact remains. whether
or not the result was due to Mr..
JOhnsOn's Admirably exquisite tech
nique or 20 his possession of that
divine fire of youth which once lost
IS never found again. that in the
fifteenth round the hope OF the
white race with his crouch and his
glare and all his hairy brown bulk.
hung over the ropes by his knees in
position quite primordial enough
10 satisfy even the red-blOod novelists
who have written so eloQuently OF
late in the sporting pages Of neo-
lithic men and the jungle-born. And
above him. with the superb muscles
Of that terrifying left arm and shout
der taut and trembling TO continue
the battle If need be. stood the black
man. Johnson-"IlT Artha." with
his queer hat-footed shuttle that
only masked the Quickness of a cat.
Lii ATtha' of the bass-viol and
the crap-shooting and the half-puz-
lied. pleading. rather wistful smile
the undoubted champion
As mere fight. this battle for
the greatest purse that two boxers
ever fought for was. I suppose, a
Uetty sad affair; but as an event.
drama OF temperaments an exam
pie OF the phenomena possible in
this ypr OF grace 1910. "a was as
strange and as wildly romantic as
any one could desire
FROM TIE ENDS OF THE WORLD
have Just said good night to a
man who was jumping on an over
sand train from which he VIII Just
have time to catch the steamer at
New York and So deliver with his
own hands a few precious photo
graphs 90 HIS London paper. The man
who sat next 20 me at the ringside
and dictated the STORY OF each round
as Il was fought. directly into his
New York Office. lost his wire some
where IN the neighborhood Of Omaha
just after his paper had beaten every
body else I'm town by eight minutes
Blocked but not dismayed. the story
went flashing westward over the
Sierras 90 San Francisco. down TO
Los Angeles and eastward by the
southern route through Yuma. Il
went astray there n little later, and
be had 20 swing u round 90 New
York by way OF Butte and ST. Paul.
and We could hear. as we sat there.
code calls reaching for IL from cities
all over the West
From the railroad yards, as I am
writing this, comes the changing Of
dozens of locomotive bells and the
fash OF their searchlights as the
fght-specials switch onto the through
tracks. Three hundred CORE
spondents, enough 90 cover any war.
ancient or modern. are writing as
fast as typewriters can be pounded
and something over half a million
words-to be relayed later intO many
million more-are clicking out over
the Reno wires.
They are saying that this will be
the last OF the heavyweight prize
fights. They said much the same
thing sixty OF seventy years ago.
Are we a civilized people? VIII
foreigners believe that IL is possible
that the first nation in Europe can
be so barbarous? OF what use are
our numerous Christian and benevo-
lent Institutions? / ran across IL in
an English magazine the other day
one published in 1884.
IL might be asked with some peril
nence whether a civilization which
compels helpless children and fra
gilo girls TO lead the life they do in
factories and shops today need worry
itself very piercingly over the brutal
ity of permitting two perfectly made
and perfectly trained bruisers to pick
up a fortune in a few minutes by
pummeling each other until one or
the other gives in. II il is 90 be the
end of priZe-fighting. one can't help
wondering what the old worthless Of
the days when the prize-ring was a
British institution of solid respecta-
BILE repute would think could they
have been in Reno during the past
two days.
Nearly q hundred years ago, when
that famous old bruiser. Jack Ran
dali. the prime Irish lad. sulked in
his public house. the Hole in the
Wall, instead of answering a chai-
lenge. 10 was Mr.. Tom Moore, the
poet. who addressed him in these
lines:
Come, Randall. my dear; come. the
hodmen entreat thee;
So idle no longer in Chancery
Lane.
Shall the Baker outwrite thee who
never could beat thee?
Come up with thy beaver, my
jewel again
What would sweet-voiced Tom
Moore. who sang to bruisers in play
full verse In a day when they really
fought like cave-men, think of our
distinguished novelists and their sol
emn honking about elemental men
81 In, 10 n an