New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1918-02-03
Sulhuan as a Reporter
At Moran-WiUard Bout


ity Of face that was conspicuous in his
salad days. He wore dark suit, a
soft gray hat. red tie and wing COL
lar. His cFins ran in flowing steps
down to his collar, giving me the i'm
preston of pelican that had recently
captured q fish,
He was genuinely pleased when one
of the Handy Andy boys about the Gar
den struggled with some difficulty
through the press box and requested
"Is that necessarily" he asked. But
he smiled
1t was. incidentally, no small task
from him to lift his $50 pounds on to
the board and canvas dais. With char
acteristic directness john l.. made
straight into the ring, stepping over
his fragile "desk" and gripping the
ring ropes. He made as though to
dust off his trousers once he was with
in the ring, and then removed his hat,
bowling to the four corners Of the Gar
den.
That was q great night for the fstic
world. Fitzsimmons, Corbett, Mccoy,
Sullivan and dozens of other lesser
lights, or lesser weights, were there.
But none received the cheers that John
l.. Sullivan did. When his name was
carried to the far reaches of the Gar
den the applause that followed was ear
splitting. 1t pleased the fine old 1rish-
man nightly.
John L. Stood Alone
While tho introductions were going
on it was to be observed that Sullivan
took no great interest in Fitzsimmons,
Corbett, Mccoy nor any Of the rest of
pugllism's sons. He stood alone and, if
he heard the light banter that the
urbane Corbett and the equally debo-
nalr Mccoy were exchanging, he paid
no attention to it. Fitzsimmons, awk-
ward in evening clothes, joined in the
gayety of the moment and even bur
lesqued an exchange of blows with
Corbett.
But Sullivan stood alone. There was
in his expression touch Of the for
midability that he must have once car
ried to the ring He was stern and
almost too impersonal to fit into such
a convivial picture.
When he regained his seat, after
climbing unassisted through the ropes,
he was breathing heavily. He vouch-
safed few remarks on the passing
events and the trained writer who sat
beside him as an amanuensis was
forced to interrogate the "Old Roman"
or use his imagination. He probably
did both.
1t was apparent from the start that
Sullivan's heart was with Moran. The
blond Irisnman with the unconquer-
able eye leaned far over the ropes be-
fore the fight to grasp Sullivan's hand.
He pleasantly remarked that John L.
was getting younger every day."
Good luck, M bye" muttered Sui
Ivan, and his eyes scarcely left the
young heavyweight, who was so greatly
outweighed, outboxed and everything
but outgamed by Willard.
Small Patience With Willard
He had small patience with Willard
before the fight and less after it had
begun. 1t was plain as the nose on a
face that he had positive distaste for
Wizards rather scientific manner of
fighting. John L. never dreamed a big
man could be SO Internally cautious.
In Moran he saw prototype of his
own day in the ring, and probably that
is why he admired him. He liked
Moran's ability to assimiIate punish
ment and his frantic efforts to land one
Wild swing that would result in a
knockout.
During the fight ! was more inter-
ested in Willard ana Moran than in the
big ex-champion who sat next me. l
heard him grunting to the writer, who
was translating his terse expressions
into a running semi-news story. re-
member, at the time, that there were
moments when the trainer writer
seemed to express surprise.
When the ten rounds were done,
there followed the customary informal
debates over who had won. The de-
cision was overwhelmingly in favor of
Willard. Yet there was a dissenting
voice: | heard Sullivan's assistant say
who do you think won?"
Moran" said Sullivan, instantly.
The writer showed he could scarcely
believe his ears.
Just what rounds, Mr.. Sullivan. do
you give to Moran" he asked, thinking
perhaps that an analysis might helm
save John l.. as 1istic critic.
What round?" answered Sullivan
sharply, "why every round, Of course!'
If | thought less of the illustrious
Bostonian as fistic expert, | admire
more the quality of loyalty that would
presume to call Moran a victor in That
Garden fight.