The Washington herald., 1921-07-03
WOMEN AT FIGHT
MAKE BELIEVE They
HAVEAGOOD Time
Try to Be "Good Pals
But Fail to Feel Lure
Of Jungle Trail.
By wINIFRED VAN QUEER.

BY "INIFHED VAN bDLEhs
JERSEY CITY. n. J.. July 2.-The
tiger stood in the bit Of Jungle clear
ing here they call the ring, tawney.
smiling. splendid, beast victorious.
At his feet the panther. head in
rosin dust.
Five thousand vomen's voices
shrilied the victory cry
Jagged edge on a rolling surface;
crackle against roar Of the primi-
tive.
wemen's Gowns Give Celer.
For the greatest battle" waged
and won in this shallow saucer of
golden pine was no woman's affair.
More feminine fans today saw Demp-
sey vanquish Georges Carpenter
than have seen the past three cham
pionship bouts, all put together. But
they were scattering; nearly sub
merged in the enormity and action
of IL all. Under the rim OF the
saucer they made a little tracing of
color against interminable black
banded straw sailors.
Down in the shadow OF the ring
they gathered, spattering broad
bands of color. Broadway came to
a new show.
Back where the saucer rim began
to roll were the boxes. Mrs. Mich
olas Longworth. Mrs. Kermit Roose-
lies; such as these.
Want to BE @Good Pals..
A famous psychologist told me
that women would go to Jersey City
not for enjoyment but to be good
pals" They would go because their
men went.
In the seat ahead of me was a
gentle little wife with frightened
eyes.
Across the aisle a white haired
woman gazed ringward with fearful
fascination. One of the Broadway
beauties squirmed out and left, her
feet beating time to the tatto of
glove on flesh. Even smiles in the
boxes seemed somewhat set.
The band played the 'Marseil-
laise." A tall boy tinted like OLD
ivory, wrapped in an old silk robe.
sprang lightly over the ropes. The
jungle moved swept by a noise like
the clatter of wind in leaves.
The champion of France whir!ed
with the grace of a cat-a small
cat-and smiled
TIGER and Panther.
A shining. brown body leaped u
the canvas. Somebody whispered
Dempsey" The name echoed.
Tiger and panther faced each
other. The little woman IN the row
ahead pressed scared eyes against
her husbands arm.
heard the first thud OF leather
on that old ivory body. Saw :he
panther muzzle flowing red. Some
thing seemed to wind itself round
my throat. The French boy looked
so high-hearted when he went into
the ring.
The world knows by now the
story of those four rounds. To me
they are confused as the rushing
light and shadow of that same
jungle.
Hears woman's Sobs.
The panther kept throwing his
OCeoNAAdA pOuy Nht
leaping half way across the ring.
But that tawney strength was in
deed the jungle kings; there never
was a question Of winner.
Down toward the ring a woman
sobbed. Nearby a man kept NUT
tering God" He had no interest
In fight or fighters Midway OF the
center section was the convention
of caulifiower ears. No tragedy
here. This crowd yelled Alta boy"
cheering impartially.
Even the scared-eyed little wife
managed to finish with q smile
when her husband was looking.
Five thousand women put forth
gallant efforts to convince $4,000
men they were having a good time
The jungle trail-psth of the
primitive. high call of the wild
is for neither the feet nor ears OF
todsy's women. prideful Of progress
Not Progression but retrogression
are those, and we women Of America
and also Of France-haye gone
too far to feel their lure.