HE SEEMS SHY

New Zealand Listener, Volume 9, Issue 232, 3 December 1943, Page 16

HE SEEMS SHY

ally arranged for representatives of weekly publications to ask leisured questions of Commander Gene Tunney. ik was a combined interview, speciThe biggest surprise: not the height or the breadth of the Commander, but the slimness of his fingers (which he clasped afd unclasped continually, far from stolidly), and the diffidence of his manner. Looking at the newspaper photographs, reading the interviews, I had thought "easy and hearty manner" would be the description, But no. I found myself astonished as I sat there deciding that this world-famous man was shy. At any rate, not hardened to publicity: _* % * ‘HEY asked him questions about famous people, including Joe Louis, whom they called Joe Louey and he called Joe Louis; and we all asked him questions about his ideas of the right exercises for Service personnel, both men and women. He has designed a course of exercises for training personnel and also a series of keep-fit, or what he calls maintenance exercises, used for every rating and every officer in the U.S. Navy.

Everyone must be able to swim, and swim well; so training includes three hours’ swimming weekly for those who can, six hours’ teaching for those who can’t. Exercises in wartime will have to be done in all kinds of climates; therefore, no prone positions are included, and the men can do their tuning-up in any mud that’s going. Conditions may be crowded camp life; so exercises can all be done in a small space — about five square-feet to each man-and with the minimum of equipment, Rules for preliminary training include: "No smoking before breakfast; a two-miles run or 20 minutes’ setting-up exercises first thing every morning," the run or the exercises to be done rain, hail, snow, or dust storm. "You can make the average man fit in six weeks on proper exercises and training-and he can make himself unfit again in six weeks, too, if he’s left to his own devices." "And would you say the same about women in the Services?" "Yes. A woman should get fit in about six weeks on the right exercises." "And become unfit again in six weeks without the exercises?" "Yes, about the same as a man."

"And what about women putting on the gloves? Have you any opinion about that?" I thought he was going to explode, "Oh, goodness me, yes!" Then he stopped, looking very disgusted. "I hope you'll withdraw that question," he said. There was nothing else I could do. But I had not meant to insult his very skilful and scientific profession; I had meant, seriously, to find out his views on women’s sporting activities, to find out if he approved or disapproved of women taking part in all sports perfected by men. I had meant to remind him of the Spartan girls, who were trained in wrestling, running and swimming, and who learned to throw the discus and the javelin, and to race on horseback. But this was a combined interview; Commander Tunney asked me to withdraw my question; and someone else was waiting to ask him another. % * * [Tt had been reported in an overseas magazine that New Zealanders were the world’s best-fed people, someone said. Did Commander Tunney agree? Yes, in wartime the New Zealanders and the Australians were surely betterfed than other peoples of the world. It stood to reason. But in peacetime the Americans were a mighty well-fed nation; and the English certainly knew (continued on next page)

(continued from previous page) how to eat; yes, he’d agree with the statement for wartime, but not for peacetime. "Of course I didn’t eat a beef-steak for three months before I left the States," he said. "The reason’s easy. It’s simpler to ship beef from Kansas City to London than to New York City." No beef-steak, no fight, someone suggested. "Oh, I can do without the beefsteak," Commander Tunney assured us. "Don’t worry about that. We have our daily pint of- canned orange juice or grape-fruit juice and plenty of vegetables and cereals." "Orange juice!" someone murmured, looking at the ceiling. "Six months since we saw any!" * a * "VOU are reported to have given a course of lectures on Shakespeare at Yale University. Do you mind saying along what lines you spoke?" I asked. "Not at all. I took him as the writer about the athlete." "Which particular play did you deal with?" "Well, now," he said, "You might be surprised. Maybe you haven’t heard of it or read it. I chose Troilus and Cressida, and I chose it because it was one they hadn’t done before." And he outlined that story of struggle in the Trojan wars. He said he lectured also on Macbeth; but there was no time for more, no time to ask him his opinion of the duel in Hamlet, the wrestling bout in As You Like It, or even to ask if he had had time-and liking-for the less stern plays afid the sonnets; in 10 minutes he had to be at the Town Hall to lecture to a boxing association, and we had to go, I, regretfully, and with the feeling that perhaps I had missed — gaining, through lack of minutes, a new view of Shakespeare-the poet of the

athlete.

J.