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Louis, true, was a remarkable adjusted
machine, but Farr had not been com-
pelled to shoulder the handicap of sorely
damaged eyes, he would probably have
won, if only because of his undying
courage and unbounded confidence.
Promise
Redeemed
Farr took the ring swearing by all the
gods that no matter the punishment meted
out to him he would be found upright and
full of fight to the end. He redeemed his
promise to himself in full.
Except in the third round, when he had
his eyes gashed, he held his own, and
there were those whose reading of the
fight made him the winner.
I do not dispute the correctness of the
decision, nor do I desire to deprecate
Louis in the slightest; but I do insist
that the champion will never, in all the
fighting days he has to come, be matched
against a more worthy opponent than
the clean-cut, pale-faced Welshman from
Tonypandy.
This was the first occasion on which I
have been privileged to see Louis in a real
fight. Except for his cold calculation he
is not a wonder pugilist.
Fight Again
Gene Tunney was sitting within a few
yards of me, and it was plain that he, like
the rest of his countrymen who had set
themselves up as prophets was astonished
by the display Farr gave.
Mike Jacobs, who took the earliest oppor-
tunity to see Farr in his dressing room, ex-
pressed the opinion of every unbiased critic
when he shook the British champion by the
hand and declared:
"Tommy, you are a wonder. You have
made all the experts look silly."
Then Jacobs asked him: "Will you fight
Louis again?" "Of coarse I will," was
Farr's reply. "I will fight anybody, any-
where, any time."
"Not a
Squealer"
Farr, asked his opinion of the verdict,
said: "I'm not a squealer. What I want to
say most is that Louis is the best and
cleanest fighter I have ever met."
Though badly marked, and nursing an
injured index finger on his right hand, Farr
was a long way from being downhearted.
He forced a smile through his cuts and
hurts to acknowledge the congratulations of
those who crowded around him.
On the eve of the fight it was seriously
predicted that Farr had as much chance of
winning as Shirley Temple would have had.
No fighter has been so derided, none so
vilified and cheapened. He came from his
hotel, where he had rested after the
weighing-in, as a man without a single
friend beyond those in his immediate circle.
yet he took the ring with all the sang-
froid of a fighter who already had the
fight in his pocket. The crowd rose to him
and cheered him lustily as with uplifted
hands he saluted them.
As if by magic he won over the thousands
of people present.
He was not a buoyant Farr, but he was
obviously a brave and unapprehensive
Farr, in a striking contradiction to Louis, who
was either perturbed or incurably shy.
Louis, as he waited until after the parade
of old champions, who included Jack
Dempsey, Gene Tunney, Jack Johnson-
now an old man- Mickey Walker, Johnny
Dundee and others- might, for all the
emotion he showed, have been hewn out
of a rock of black marble.
A Roar
The fight began amid murmurings that
quickly developed into a roar. Louis
carried himself perfectly, easily and grace-
fully- precisely as the masters would have
a fighter carry himself. the only fault I
had to find with his bearing was his flat-
footedness.
Farr, who weighed 204 1/4lb. to Louis's
197lb., crouched slightly, his chin tucked
into his generous shoulder.
It was a quiet opening, no attempt was
made by either man to explode even mild
pyrotechnics. Both were excusably
cautious, excusably since I do wager that
Louis had not previously encountered a
fighter so awkwardly shaped as Farr, while
the Welshman prudently abided his time
before launching a serious attack.
It was a round confined almost entirely
to boxing pure and simple, and at the end
I decided that Farr had made the most
marks.
Jolt and
Sting
In the second round Louis jabbed away
with his left hand, and repeatedly reached
Farr's face. But though he was urged to
let go his right hand, he was content to
jolt and sting and stab the Welshman.
Farr took all that came to him without
flinching, by clever footwork and thinking
out the inside position. In return he
prodded Louis's body with both hands, and
landed a left-hook that made the negro
sniff and snort and blink.
Louis in the third round forced Farr on
the retreat, but although the Welshman
ducked clear of a vicious right hand he
met with injuries to his eyes which ever
after troubled him grievously.
"For a Kill"
"Now for a kill," the crowd yelled to
Louis.
But Louis could not pin Farr to a given
spot, and all the damage he could do was
with his left hand, which he kept remark-
ably straight and used with a speed that
would have broken the heart of a less
plucky man than the challenger.
Astonishingly, from this stage, Farr was
at his best. He conceded nothing to the
champion, and often outwitted him. He was
always setting the negro problems utterly
befuddling to his fighting mind.
But to his everlasting credit, Louis
plodded away never deviating from a plan
of campaign that had been mapped out for
him by Joe Blackburn, his trainer and his
adviser.
Never in
Danger
The chances are that if Louis had not
applied the curb vigorously from first to
last, it would have been odds on Farr beat-
ing him. It was the unanimous opinion
of those who were not blinded by pre-
judice that Farr was 100 per cent better
than any British heavyweight previously
to visit America.
Farr's defense throughout was won-
derful. I should say that this was the
only fight in which Louis had failed to
ruffle his opponent. his heaviest blows
did no more than make Farr dither.
He was never in danger of being
knocked out.
Even in the third and fourth rounds, when
he must of been hit by the straightest of
left hands, he was as strong as a man could
possibly be on his legs, and not for a single
second was he mentally disturbed.
He was always advertising his own cer-
tainty that he could not only withstand the
most vicious attack at the command of
Louis, but that he was sure he could win.
Fractional
Difference
Beyond all question Louis never took
the full measure of Farr. There was,
according to my reckoning, only a
fractional difference in favor of Louis
at the end, and it says much for the
sportsmanship of Farr, that when he was
declared the loser he took the verdict
without the least quibble.
Farr exceeded all my expectations and
justified to the hilt my confidence. The
result was booed and hooted loud and long.
fully 75 per cent of the spectators, to judge
by the protestations, were of the opinion
that Farr had done more than enough to
be returned the winner.
He may claim that no stranger to the
American ring has ever been given such
a rousing ovation. On this memorable night
he put British boxing on the map.
"Are You
Satisfied?"
When I saw him as he was about to
leave the stadium for a hurried meal
before returning to his camp at Long
Branch, he asked me:
"Are you satisfied that I have not let
either myself or my country down?"
before he went away, Dr. Nardiello, of
the New York State Commission, put
Farr's injured finger in splints, and the
bruises under his eyes were made less
ugly.
"I shall not return home for some time,"
he said. "I shall take a holiday at Long
Branch for several weeks, and wait and see
what is offered me in the way of another
fight. I stand ready to fight anybody."
The Decision
Ted Broadribb, his manager, thought the
verdict of the judges a good one and had
no complaint whatever to offer.
It was given out that:
Arthur Donovan, the referee, gave thir-
teen rounds to Louis, one to Farr, and
considered the sixth round to be even.
Charles Lynch, one of the judges,
awarded eight rounds to Louis, five to
Farr and ruled two even.
MacPartland, the other judge, gave
Louis most points in nine rounds and Farr
in six.
I am at complete variance with the
reading of the fight by the referee.
To put it charitably, he was more than
generous in his award of points to the
champion.
The fight was not the financial flop it
threatened to be, and the "gate" will leave
Mike Jacobs with more than will pay the
enormous expense to which he has put.
The crowd was a model of orderliness.
There were no scenes, but as I motored
through Harlem there was, as was to be
expected, unbridled jubilation.
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