Judge — February 27, 1932 — page 18: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

a a RT JUDGE LETTER OF A SELF-MADE ATHLETE By Rex Deane Dre Things have here's what happene n breaking pretty lousy lately and When I got to N.Y. for the Cow- boy Toots match I was told by Mike Pounds (my mz ager) that IT wasn’t a k 1) drawing card just yet to goon with Londos. He told me that it was fixed for Toots to toss me this time and then ea remateh which Twas to win, I tells him nuthin’ doi but his word goes around here, and rather than look for a cosy bread-line, I says oke, and the match was on, Well, I told you about this Toots, and how I once played football against him. to get uglier if possible. “So you're the new diving champ, ch?" he eracks as we come out grapplin I am too dis- gusted to answer, what with having to take it in the tank and all, LaRue was in the front row and [ was plenty burnt up. We stall around for over an hour and then the dog hoists me up and dumps ime into the press box. When I came to I had a fifty-word U. P. dispatch written across the back of my neck! Afterwards, over a beer in Dutch's, I hear that Toots has it in for a certain sportswriter who has been panning He ain't changed none, exce} | —— =|— —=| = = }|— =i = JS — i “Look, Emma—rugs from our Massachusetts branch!" his act. This was his fancy idea of a pay-off—the big ox! Well, this about washes me up in New York. My neck is so stiff I couldn't turn it to watch Marlene Dietrich climb on a bus. Anyway, Pop, here's the big news: while I’m sitting over a few more schooners, a young doll comes over and speaks to me. She says she is Katinka Van Zach and she's just crazy about hig, strong men. She tips me off that she is on her way to Florida in the morning. That gives me an idea, why not go down there to recuperate? While I'm thinking it over the door and who breezes in but LaRue and Toots! The next thing I know, I dive over two tables and grab the big palooka. I hoists h and tosses him over the bar. Ge as swell! Glasses, bottles, mirrors—even the cash reg- ister tips over and taps him on the bean, About eight guys started to work on me with chairs and bottles, and some where in between I felt LaRue’s nails chipping away. The cops come in and it looks pretty bad, but this kid Van Zach flashes a few cards and one big smile, and all is quict on the Potomac Honest, her old man must be a shot! She takes me home in her car and I promise to come down South for the winter “social season” as she calls it. But strictly as a matter of friend- ship. Maybe I can get a job wrasslin’ al- “Sure, I practice passive resistance; but I don’t see why I can’t wear a steel helmet.” 16 ligators for the newsreels, I'll send you a grapefruit, Pop. Olive-oil cherry, your son BULL. comicbooks.com