Women at the Prize Fight.

Waikato Times, Volume 107, Issue 17974, 20 March 1930, Page 14

Women at the Prize Fight.

Blood-red, cruelly-marAoured fingernails. Cauliflowers ears. Pearl necklaces (authentic) as long as skippingropes. Slop pails in the seconds’ corners. Snowdrift ermine cloaks. Women everywhere you looked. Hundreds and hundreds of then! from tlio ringside to the roof. Dressed for parties at exclusive supper clubs, if they’d come straight from the office, and- —yes 1 judging also from tlieir faces, straight from vicarage tea-par-ties. Women escorted. Women escorting each other.

And, for tlie first time in my own private experience of the very best pugilism, loud voices exhorted tlie fighters during the only important spectacle of the evening to come across with the rough stuff. They addressed Diener. He, from the very first round of his fight with Camera, was so plainly the poor, whipped underdog that we were all very, very kind and tender to him. Especially those voices: “ ’lt ’im, Jerry ! Come on, Jerry!”

Those voices issued from scores and scores of weak feminine throats, the owners of which were all suffering the wildest pangs of excitement and enthusiasm. Women of the bulldog breed, obviously. But it gave me quite a shock, and when I fought my homeward waythrough massed formations of chauffeurs and the hoi holloi lined up outside the hall exits, I took a nervous look at the memorial to see that it stood where it did. It did. But only just. Nor must I forget to record the only bad break in what might have been railed Jeff Dickson’s Flags of All Nations Night. That came from the M.C. about to jntroduee Camera and Diener. “Gentlemen/’ he cried; and then corrected himself. “Ladies and gentlemen 1 ’ ’ It should, of course, have been “Gentlemen and Ladies!-”

Remarkable Lure of Camera .

Primo Camera, who, not many months ago, was so poor that lie wore odd boots, and Diener, the German, climbed through the ropes. The latter spots Kid Lewis, an interloper in a seat at tho Press sheli round the ring. He leans over the ropes with his hand outstretched: ‘ ‘ And ’ow ’s my Lewis ?’ ’ One of Diener’s seconds is a true Jerry, with a convict hair cut. A much graver Camera But what a personality. And what a whopper ! It’s just like looking at a man through an outsize in magnifying glasses. He wheezes like a steam engine as he fights. Ilis sea-green pants are largo enough to make bathing suits for a class full of small boys. And when from the very start there were no cries but “Come on Jerry!” he just amiably showed those conspicuous gums of his. But how well he fought ! He had us all surprised and amazed. Boxing like a heavyweight champion ! And how well lie behaved ! No alleged “chopping block” punches, or game Diener —one of the bravest men who ever stepped in a ring—would have been dead by now. And once when he hit with an open glove and had to be told about it there was quite a tender little “necking” scene in the ring when Primo apologised to the German. Poor Jerry. Ho had two eyes closed up before the referee mercifully stepped between them and said, “Now that’ll be enough.” And it was almost poor Primo for half a second. His English wasn’t quite good enough for “Now, that’ll be enough,” and his expression plainly said: “Well, if I haven’t blotted my copy book ail over again.” Prom all around me were signs of infinite relief, and the roars approving Jerry must have been heard on the Spree. And when tho fight officially went to Camera there was another little necking scene. I nearly burst into tears. Ah, well, Carnera*’s fortune is nearly half-ma.de. And I bet immediately Primo got out his dressing-gown into his gentleman’s light suitings. M. See, M. Journee, who found Camera when he was eeking out a pitiful living in a fair booth at Arachon, took various cups of tea to celebrate what’s coming to them. But Jeff Dickson doesn’t exorcise his 10 per cent, cut until Camera reaches tho £20,000 purse elass. I wish I were a prize-fighter—a woman writer in the London “Daily Chronicle, ”