12 Sports Aces, May 1943 — page 56: what you’re looking at

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

54 sheets that Henly will be around with a proposition for a Spider Johnson go.” Spike Babb frowned worriedly. “It’s too fast, Tim. The lad is good, but he’s only ‘been fightin’ six months. I don’t dike at.” Promoter Henly came around and he didn’t beat around the bush. “Your boy and Johnson will draw,” he said. “I ain’t interested in putting Rourke on with anybody else. I’ve got two spots lined up, take it or leave it. ’' put the Johnson-Rourke-go-on for the last indoor show, and 1 got Battler Alders signed to meet the winner in a ball park shew in May. “That’s practically giving you a shot at a title. Benson’s got it just about set for Alders to be declared kinda champ pro tem——while Sergeant Joe is in the Army—and Joe maybe never will return to the ring. Alders is going to meet some- body in this ball park show for the U. S. QO. It’s up to you.” Tim Mc@arty said, “Hell, Spike, the doc can take Johnson, Sign i.” Spike Babb signed, but he had plenty of misgivings. “The lad ain’t ready for Spider Johnson,” he grumbled. Then Henly said a funny thing “There's more dough for you with Rourke meeting the top men. You ain't got mo worry.” He teft. ‘Tim McCarty and Babb looked puzziediy at each other. “¥ou know,” the former newspaper- man said thoughtfully, “that erack did- n’tsound right. I think I'll do some snoop- ing. Sounds to me like Henly knows .some- thing we don’t know!” HE fight between Matty and Spider Johnson was something to watch— for six rounds, Spider Johnson was a tall slenderly built man with abnormally long arms He looked fragile, as though one good punch would break him in pieces. Matty quickly learned that it was no easy matter to land even one solid smack. The Spider kept a long rapier left stuck in Matty’s face from the bell. Matty couldn’t get set, and when he tried to slip inside Johnson’s guard, the lanky 12 SPORTS ACES fighter expertly tied him up. It was Spider Johnson’s round by a mile. The second stanza was a carbon copy breath rasped in his throat as Spike Babb worked over him between the third and fourth. “he’s tough, lad, but he ain’t perfect. Keep after him and wait for an epening. They all slip once in a while.” “I'll get him,” Matty panted. He began to wonder as the rounds rolled around. He couldn’t get near enough for a solid rap. The fifth was al- most over when he finally tagged the Spider the first solid smack, a right over the heart. Spider Johnson fought back furiously, not with jabs. A looping right connected high on Matty’s cheek, but there was sufficient authority in the wal- lop to stagger him. Surprisingly, it was Spider Johnson who rushed into a clinch. Matty didn’t get it, the Spider logically should have followed his advantage. In the clinch Spider muttered, “Sorry, Rourke, I for- got.” Matty puzzled over the remark, finally put it dewn to strategy on Johnsoen’s part, an attempt to befuddle him. Matty said nothing to Spike. The sixth round came and the fans were yelling for blood. Matty rushed from his eorner, intent on getting Spider before those long arms could ‘hold him off. Matty’s left crashed through Spider's guard, slammed his head back. Matty cocked the murderous right, but Spider was on his bicycle, back-pedaling furi- Suddenly he stopped, pivoted and the old one-twe rattled off Matty, They stood there for seconds and traded punches, _ neither man giving. The crowd roared wildly to their feet, yelled for a knock- out. Smash! Whoomp! Thud! = The bruising sound of sodden gloves crunching flesh and ‘bone filled Matty’s ears. This spidery fellow had surprising body to his pumches. Just befere the bell, Matty saw an opening and threw his Commcaocl< com