The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1923-07-06

Let me ScGndauZe my nlSnDrOW
readers at once. Do you know the
one man, Of all men on earth, who
stands in my mind as the most like
unto Jack Dempsey? 1t is Fritz
Kreisler. Kreisler and none other
They are curiously alike.
The world champion pugilist and
the world champion violinist have
the same compelling force, the same
dazzling swiftness Of muscle and Of
mind. the same tragic concentration.
the same shyness. subtlety, secretive
concealment, self-control at high
est speed, delightful flash Of sunny
humor, strange power Of animal in.
stinct, charming urbanity in meet
Ing men, the same weird touch as OF
rnongol blood, the same vital distri-
button Of intellect through every
nerve and muscle; yes. the same
deeply buried pathos and cynicism
40 OF too much knowledge Of life.
And I have felt in Kreisler while
playing that wild Schumann fan
tasia which Joachim would never
render but confided to Kreisler' Q
greater mastery; the same appalling
ferocity that leaps outward from
Dempsey when a punch lands on
him hard enough to sting.
KreisIer can play false notes,
and Dempsey may be licked. It
makes no difference. Both would
still be MISREPRESENTATION at
anything they might.
Up at gray. sprawling Shelby. in
almost the only neat cottage in that
nightmare town, there is a big
genial, sensible, likable athlete
q very clever, wise athlete-whose
pleasant wife and three cute little
youngsters suggest a happy and
model family. Tom Gibbons IL a
wonderfully fine fellow with clear
eye, a clear brain, q clear record.
He gives no haunting indication Of
genius. But the Celt in him may
emerge when he becomes half un-
conscious.
II 80, the Dempsey Gibbons prize
fight will resolve itself into a battle
between basic Celt and basic Mon
sol. For Jack Dempsey's factor Of
Indian blood goes back to those Tar
tars that swept out from mystic
Central Asia to spread terror
through the earth; and his face. in
browbent concentration is the face
of q Tartar chieftain musing upon
death.
It was as a genial boy that 1 first
saw him. From the winding road
over the prairie mesa one enters a
wire gate above a slope; by the side
gate stands a rambling stone road
t. al - Ia
amid sunny poplars, with the slen-
and behind it an island filled with
cottonwoods. It is a perfect Corot
landscape in form and coloring; and
when the 1.-THE boxers were in the
open air ring by the river bank, the
picture was q masculine, and no
less beautiful, dance Of the nymphs.
We were admitted to the road
house. Dempsey was not yet due
to appear. In a great central room,
cat like lads with hard boiled
features were stolidly playing cards.
They were typical pugilists-quiet,
sweater clad, smiling in sudden
flashes. Outstanding among them
was the crag-l like face of Bermond-
eey Billy Wells. the English welter.
weight, who talked with an accent
] could hardly understand.
Into the room charged Dempsey
like q shock OF electricity, laugh
Ing, shaking hands. pleasantly
acknowledging an introduction.
and seizing friendly reporter in
q mock deadlock, all In an instant.
He was arrow.Ike, white clad.
erect, "1ightsome as q lotus leaf"
His swift glance Of appraisal,
piercing, suspicious. went clear to
bedrock; then he was all sunshine
again; and the one was as sincere.
as direct as the other; the eerie
depth OF q ripple, and its CLEAN.
That was all until I saw him. in
q bathrobe and black head.
guard, emerge from the stone house
and stride gloomily through the
crowd. He walked with head down;
he was the tartar chieftafn. He
brushed past acquaintance without
glancing upward, tore off the bath.
robe, and instantly began to lam.
basic the punching bag
OF this. and the boxing exhibit
! need not write. But the heavy
arms and hands were live things in
themselves. When he was hit-and
those fast smaller lads hit him
often enough-those hands leaped
out and struck as instinctively a.
a woman screams. When he paused
between rounds and leaned in the
corner facing the ropes. his parted
feet. dropping head, bulky shout
ders and set legs only resembled ir
proportion and posture that char
'acteristic weary giant" pose Of
Herbert Hoover.
Now. creeping around the ston.
barracks was a tiny white Persia
kitten with amber eyes: and tina
kitten was shedding it's hair ant
needed combing. While waiting 10,
Dempsey to have his rundown ant
dress. gravely discussed this mat
ter with a youthful pugilist VIII,
liked the kitten. The lad agreed
but passed the buck tn a caror1 a,