New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1915-12-30
Personal Touches Here
and There in Boxing
By IGOE

It's off. Haven't you heard? Haven't
you HEARD? Oh, TO be sure, the bald
headed barber Of Kewsnee sent word
from New Orleans last night that he
has called off the Willard-Fulton fight
that was to have kept the natives OF
that city talking longer than they did
after young Jim Corbett knocked out
old John Lawrence Sullivan.
The famed lather puddler went all
the way TO the Crescent City TO hear
Tommy Burns and Dominick Tortorich
whisper the information that the town
had remained perfectly normal after
the Willard-Fulton proclamation. In
stead of declaring the date set for the
bout city, state and national holiday,
the Barnum-proof inhabitants broke
right out in a smoker and said. isn't
the barber the sly old dog. 20 think
that we would fall for his personally
conducted extravaganza ?" The grand
exalted keeper of the Wade & Butch
ers told them that the eyes of the
world would focus on New Orleans II
big Jess and big Fred were allowed TO
cuff each other around for period OF
twenty rounds or less.
II was the LESS part that set the
natives to whispering, Perhaps this
big Fred Fulton would only last
round or two, and the laugh would be
on New Orleans forever. The town
papers Joined hands with the city folks
and lambasted the whole affair so
strenuously that even that brave, bold
pair. Messrs. Dominick T. and Thomas
B.. held a little calamity caucus, and
wound up by waving the white flag of
truce so assiduously that the good bar
Der heard il swishing clear to New
York, where he was busily engaged in
writing q novel, THE PASSES THAT
NEVER BUY"
Jones dropped his quill and crawled
into that trick cutaway of the vintage
of '6l that he affects, and actual
pushed taxicabs out Of the way on his
run TO the depot TO entrain for New
Orleans. He went by way Of Chicago
in order to pick up Tom Andrews, who
is ballyhooing for Fulton. The two
Toms shook hands and said that New
Orleans would embrase that match, or
they would know the reason why. Now
they know. New Orleans doesn't WANT
the Willard-Fulton bout, and the ques-
ton that puzzles the pair now is
who DOES want 1t?
And one but Fulton would have sat
isfied the public appetite. But to at
tempt to foist off a big fistic green
horn on ye patient fan was too much,
much too much. There wasn't a
chance in the world Of Burns or Tor
torich making good their guarantee
TO Willard without going stone broke,
because the gate receipts wouldn't
have come to the rescue.
When a champion is sighting to de-
fend his title, there must be some
hope for the under dog. The bottom
canine in this particular instance as
sumed the proportions of maltese
terrier. Fulton didn't have. show,
and the barber and his henchmen
knew il. Jack Curley, whose bump OF
humor is a positive dent, laughed him
self of his mahogany office. chair
when Tom Jones whispered in his ear
that he had Willard matched with
Fred Fulton.
Poor Jack lay on his back shaking
like a iellyfsh. while from his mouth
came the peculiar chuckle Of the guinea
hen. He ordered this pugilistic Char
lie Case out of his Office lest another
word bring about his untimely demise.
Jones backed out, but his parting
shout 10 the convulsed Curley was
that Willard and Fulton were posi-