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Show Davip Vl r " rngilistica de Luxe as Interpreted in Old New Orleans. MADISON SQUARE GARDEN MANHATTAN does a good deal of bragging about the manner and magnificence mag-nificence with which fistiana conducts its bashing affairs. The latter-day fans who hail the heavy, welter, light and feather weight nobility know not of the past glories. Recently at a Garden festival with my old friend, John Kennard, once of New Orleans, where he practiced law in the grand manner and moved among the ante-bellum aristocracy, I was much regaled by his description descrip-tion of the Corbett-Sullivan mill that rocked the nation in 1893. "In those days," said John, "the manly art, a purely masculine entertainment, en-tertainment, one might say, was conducted on a high scale and attended at-tended by gentlemen only. The thought of my lady sitting in the New Orleans Olympic club, under a rain of rosin dust and within sound of the gong, was preposterous. Not until I came to New York, years afterward, was It my lot to behold a woman parked within sight of the squared circle, there to be thrilled at a knockout as delivered by the abysmal brute. However, we menfolk men-folk made no bones about turning a prize fight into a Roman holiday with all its pomp and ceremony. Well I remember the announcement that John L. Sullivan, then world champion, would fight Gentleman Jim Corbett, the California panther, to a finish. An added feature, in the same ring, on succeeding days, matched Jack McAulifE with Billy Myer and George Dixon with Jake Skelly. A Fistic Carnival at $50 per ticket for the three battles, $10 for Dixon-Skelly, $15 for McAuliff and $25 for the main event between John and Jim. Socialites Make Splurge "As a member of the highly social so-cial Boston club, it had been my practice on previous occasions to secure prize ring tickets for my associates. The Olympic club favored fa-vored us with choice seats provided my requirements were made known well in advance. With considerable alacrity, I made up a list which totaled $1,860. We pretty much monopolized mon-opolized the chairs in the ringside section, distinguished on that occasion occa-sion from the back rows and bleachers bleach-ers by several coats of fire cracker red paint. "To further celebrate the carnival spirit that had seized upon us we ordered at a cost of $350 a special dinner to be served at the Pickwick club, from which point we were driven in five horse-drawn carryalls carry-alls to the Olympic club on Canal street, some distance from the center cen-ter of the city, in a quarter not particularly well policed. Fact is, 'twas the custom of roughneck prizefight patrons upon leaving the club to seize upon other people's vehicles, throw cab drivers from their seats and drive away with an amateur on the box, the passengers singing popular songs and waterfront water-front chantys. To guard against any such reprisals directed at the boys in the red chairs, I engaged at $25 a private detective to guard our carryalls carry-alls that we had hired at a cost of $100 for the night. Mighty "John L's" Waterloo. "Another little item was $15 for boutonniers set at the right angle in our dinner coats, then in vogue for all championship affairs at the Olympic club. You need not draw upon anything other than your imagination im-agination in order to visualize the magnificence of forty-odd New Or-leanians Or-leanians in dinner coats, decorated with gardenias and seated in bright red chairs around a ring containing the persons of Sullivan and Corbett engaged in a finish fight for the heavyweight championship of t h e world. Can you see them?" "Perfectly, and never a calmer body of men. You must have been magnificent. " "With the exception of one member," mem-ber," retorted Kennard, "who, at the end of the second round, asked me how it happened that Uiere were only two principals and four referees ref-erees in the ring. As a problem in optics that question to this day remains re-mains unanswered. However, I want you to know that otherwise the delegation from the Boston club was beyond criticism." "IIow was the Cght?" "If you ask me, nothing to brag about. Sullivan came out of his corner like a tornado bent on wiping wip-ing out the California stripling in one devastating onslaught. Corbett, like a feather in the path of a tornado torna-do sidestepped to safety End kept side-stepping for twenty-one rounds, never at any moment in danger, sticking rights and lefts into John's face at will. Boston's Boy saw the handwriting on the wall. The San Francisco phantom cut him down to the point of exhaustion where Sullivan, Sul-livan, weary but willing, though red-jowled red-jowled and puffing, sank upon his Droad haunches, wiped the sweat out of his eyes and was counted out, exclaiming while still seated, 'I'm sorry I lost the fight. Glad an American won.' " WNU Service. |
