Life — September 23, 1926 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

“\Nb WITH THIS I DROPPED A RIGHT DOWN TO THE BIG FELLOW’s Jaw.” The Low-Down on the Big Fight Based on a Visit to the Opposing Camps By “Robert Benchley THE DEMPSEY CAMP Atlantic City, Sept. 20. VISIT to the Dempsey camp was arranged for me by my pretending I was Gene Tun- and saying I wanted to fight on 4 ad of Thursday. “But we have to go to Phila- delphia to do it,” was the word sent out by the Champ. “I want to fight to-day and I want to fight here!” was my repl Soon the Colossus of Clinch ap- peared, very natty in his blue tights, and ready for the fray. Ivy name is Tinney,” I said, put- ting out my hand, which immediately disappeared. “I understood you to say ney.” was the reply. “Bless your heart, no,” I said, myself into a perfect frenzy. ‘Tinney is my name, Frank Tinney.” And with this I dropped a right down to the Big Fellow’s jaw “Do you see much of the rest of gang these days?” he asked. see Theodore every once in a "I said, sending a stinger be- his ribs. “Theodore whom?" queried the Crosus of Cartilage. “Just. Theodore,” I said. “His parents died when he was very young.” “Door kiddie,” Jack. And thei —"Poor kiddie! By this time I was raining rights and lefts on his defenseless head with such viciousness that he said: Tun- laughing mused Juggernaut 1 few seconds later “That's a mighty pretty pencil- clip you've got there in your pocket, Frank Tinney. How’'ll you swap it for three agates and a cat’s-eye?” I paused and separated my knuckles. “I think you ought to know before we go any farther,” I said quietly, “that my name is really not even Frank Tinney. Come now, ‘fess up —I had you fooled for a minute there, didn’t 1?” “You don’t mean Frank Tinney that used to be in ‘The Music Box,’ do you?” asked Le Diable. “Then it was all a dream,” he cried, “and I don’t have to go back to that ter- rible school?” He was trembling ‘ome, Jack, boy,” I said, taking him by the arm and spraining my WHERE 18 THE TU CAMP?’ 1 ASKED THE STATION } 9 wrist, “we're going home ~now— home to Inglenook.” And as we walked together through the ropes I knew in my heart that Jack Dempsey would win on Thursday. THE TUNNEY CAMP Speculator, N. Y., Sept. 21. N the way up here in the train to visit Gene Tunney, I allowed my thoughts to dwell on the ex- Marine and his chances against Dempsey. What would he be like? What would I be like? Should I walk right up to him “Look here, Gene! Wh. I hear about you boys fight- Come, come, you're much too big, both of you, to fight over a little thing like that. You know Jack. Headstrong, impetuous, never means a thing he says. Why don’t you both come up to my room to-night and talk it over? Groton will never win the game if her two biggest boys act like this toward each other.” Should I say that? Or should I play the coward and push Tunney in the face? As the train pulled into the sta- tion I remembered that there had been considerable talk in sporting circles about Tunney's being a col- ored man. It was either Tunney or Wills. I resolved to find this out the first thing that I did. If it turned out that Wills was the colored man, then I would have to rewrite the lead for my story of the fight (already in type) in which I said: Dempsey and the giant Negro T came to blows to-night in the nkee Stadium, New York, before a record crowd.” “Where is the Tunney training camp?” I asked the station master. “Tt was moved a couple of wecks ago to Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania,” was the reply. “Tunney’s camp in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania!” I repeated, aghast. “Why, it hardly seems credible.” “Well, you go to your church and I'll go to mine,” said the man. That finished me. In summing up the chances of the two fighters, then, I may say that both Dempsey and Tunney look to be in good trim, and that, whichever one wins, I shall know that I have been in a fight. comicbooks.com