Henderson daily dispatch. (Henderson, N.C.) 1914-1995, 1937-09-02
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Memories: The preliminaries never
excite the crowd much . Sometimes
though, the best boxing is in the ear
ly bouts. Thirty thousand New
Workers in one vast human flower
bed spread out over the stadium: the
weeds don't show, under the hard
white lights. >. The man in the seat
next to mine gets confidential, dis
cussing the probabilities of the main
bout. ;. He tells me is a bartender in
a Broadway bistrot. Il remember
that his seat cost $23 (mine is a gift;
I wonder if I'd ever pay that much
to see a prize fight and it occurs to
me that the man has PROBABLY saved
his tips for months to spend in one
grand splurge. There are thousands
like him all over the huge arena.
The two gawky lads are pounding
each other, swaying and sweating, in
the fan of light. :. The one in the pur-
pie trunks whose name, coming out
of the loudspeaker, sounds like UNI
plamup, is acclaimed winner. 4. Far
off beyond right field an Ell train
wrinkles past, yellow eyes cleaning
In it people are going to night
work, to the movies, scarcely aware
that the heavyweight championship
of the world is being decided down
here The woman in the mink coat
four rows ahead has been overcome
by an attack of giggles and her es-
cort is glancing around with great
embarrassment.
There is excitement now. ;. Here
comes the little Welshman. . . Farr
seems little; actually he weighs 2O7
pounds few pounds more than his
coppery opponent who nevertheless
appears to tower over him. . "A group
far up in the ocean of faces is sing
ing Land of My Fathers''-compa-
triots of the challenger no doubt. :.
Farr takes a seat near the ringside.
Louis arrives too. ;. There is little ex-
preston on the Negroes face-compla-
cency, stole calm or stupidity; who
can say which?. /. Now the crowd is
leaning forward. Louis and Farr
are on their stools in the ring . The
master of ceremonies, a big man with
a radio voice, is introducing cele-
brities. Jack Dempsey, Gene Tun-
ney Cooking young, sunburned and
in good condition), Jack Johnson, a
espectable-looking, white haired Ne
gro with a broad smile. Fight names
tumble out of the loudspeakers as the
owners of them climb to the stage.
Max Baer, in suit with broadly pleat
ed back, clowning and mugging for
the crowd. Benny Leonard. Max
Schmeling, who runs to greet Louis,
whom he licked and Farr who, the
rumors have it, he is Getting on.
"a hundred dollars even money
they don't both come up for the eighth
round, cries the gentleman in full
dress with red cheeks and white hair
-. "A legless Negro, sitting with va
cant seats on either side, yells, Kill
him in the first round, Joe!' -. /
think I recognize him as a Times
Square beggar, this legless one, but
I'm not sure. i wonder whether hi
paid $50 for the three seats for an
hour Of glory. IA man hawking
opera glasses for fifty cents apiece
cries his wares. The gong sounds
Round one has begun of another
Battle of the Century. -. Louis
pathetic, prehensile man trained to
fight and nothing else, puts up his
hands it is better work than picking
cotton, if you can get it,.
Bread and circuses, .Bread?....
Maybe some in this audience have
done without it to come. But they
will get their moneys worth. Tit
women in the mink coat is quiet now
her giggles subsidized She is asleep