The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1935-12-14

these two con- MAAM M#M|
demned men in zzF M
their meditationS.
Facing Louis Is Joe Williams
an ass g n ent
that carries with it a very real dan
ger. The young Negro is probably
the hardest hitter the prize ring ever
knew, not even excepting Fitzsim
mons or Dempsey.
He 'anded only one real punch in
what y3s loosely scheduled as a
15-round bout at the packed Garden
last night and this one punch.
swift, kissing right hand almost 1t
orally tore the left side of Paulinos
face off. It came early in the fourth
round and it could not have been
any more destructive if it had been
a hand grenade.
There had been no knockdowns
up to that time. The three preced-
ing rounds were probably the strang-
est rounds Of prize fighting ever
seen-strange because of the obvious
moods and purposes of the two men,
The old Spaniard went into his shell
from the start, maneuvering behind
a barricade Of forearms and elbows,
that made direct hits difficult. He
had never been knocked out and he
was in there to stay the limit if he
could.
The cold, emotion&aSs man they
call the Brown Bomber, the Dark
Destroyer, the Embalmer and other
ominous names studied this COM
plicated problem before him and
went to work on it with the search
ing seriousness of surgeon per-
forming a rare operation. He struck
out with tentative, inquiring lefts;
once in a while he threw a right.
But it was always plain he was
studying the problem and waiting
for the proper moment.
The problem was to get Pauline
to open up just wide enough for
direct shot at a vulnerable spot.
There had been little action in the
first three rounds. Louis threw only
one right hand in the first round
and it caught Pauline going away.
landed high but had enough on it
to knock the weather beaten invader
backwards. The third round was so
uneventful the customers began to
boo.
He Sees His Opening
But all the while Louis, having
decided on the proper strategy, was
waiting for one thing; he was wait
ing for Pauline to make lead with
his left. It developed early in the
fourth round and when it did Louis
cracked down with his right. The
The blow landed on Paulino's jaw
and he fell to the canvas with a
twisting motion like a man who had
been shot.
He fell on his back, his heels in
the air, look of total bewilderment
on his face. He reached for the
ropes, began to pull himself up and
at the count of eight was on his feet,
swaying, glass-eyed, though without
knowing it. There we're cries Of
stop it," which were ignored. Then
the mercilesS Louis, his python
eyes focused on his stricken victim,
moved in and landed two more cruel
blows, left to the body and a right
to the face. At this point the ref
cree called a halt.
Less Proud Gesture
There Was something tragic about
the next episode The old Spaniard
was so dazed he scarcely knew
where he was, but he knew ne was
supposed to be in prize fight; he
knew. too. he had never been
Knocked out.
This was the one proud mark of
distinction he carried as a plodding.
brave, earnest prize fighter. So he
showed the referee away and on
hating, crumbling legs followed
Louis to his corner, motioning him
to continue the slaughter.
This was in heroic if not intelli-
gent contrast to the manner in
which Max Baer lost to the young
Negro last summer when he took
the knockout count on one knee
and shook his head in firm almost
hysterical negative when the referee,
hardened to such scenes, sneered.
Get up you big bum and lose like a
man." 1t can never be said the old
Spaniard didn't lose like a man.
Never Was Very Good
AS a matter of fact Pauline hope
less underdog and carrying visible
ruffles of suet around his waist.
made brave fight of it all the
way. He never was much of a fight
er, and he saw his best days years
ago, but he tried to the limit of his
mediocrity Whenever he got a
chance he threw a punch.
He was so far gone he had to be
supported by his handlers in the
corner after it was over, but he still
glared defiance at his conqueror.
Finally two blue coats gripped his
arms and helped him from the
arena to the dressing room. He
was a much different looking Paul
mo from the one who had bounced
into the ring with wide. beaming
smile few minutes before. His
face was bruised and pulled, blood
ran from his mouth. nose and a
cash over his left eye. He was a
revolving caricature of one of Gods