The Daily Worker Newspaper, December 11, 1926, Page 14

SPORTS OBODY denied it. Every newspaper in Chicago openly at- tacked the decision of the referee that gave the middle- weight boxing championship t o Mickey Walker over Tiger Flowers. The papers howled for days. The thou- sands of bugs who attended-Were stun- ned by the decision.6f the referee and handed him a father raucous if ill-mannered razzberry. Honest fight Bugs, who still must believe in Santa Claug if they expected any honesty in sa noteriously dishonest professional + sport, would not accept the money they won after witnessing the bout. Everyone agreed that Flowers, the preaching pugilist was victor. Everybody agreed but the members of the boxing commission and the manager of the Tiger. It’s true that he protested the day after the fight. But strangely NOT at“the time of the decision. The commission after a special meeting--decided the fight should stand 4s decided. After the commission spoke, Flowers’ manager “who threatened to “reveal scandal” became mum. The newspapers also stopped howling. Mum’s the word, ii seems. But “mum” tho famed also as a deoderant, could not kill the stench of the most recent scandal of a pro- fessional sport that is notoriously rotten. ET us remind you of another instance or two of the splen- did “sportsman- ship” of profession- al boxing which have become com- m on newspaper gossip. Not long Selly ago Eddie O’Shea fought Phil Rosenberg, bantamweight champ in Chicago. Previous to the “battle a “committee” of unknown but “very décided gentlemen called on O’Shea and displayed guns and black- jacks. They casually spoke a word or two to O’Shea on the efficiency of these playthings. Whether O’Shea took heed or not is not known. But what is known is the result of the fight. O’Shea was knoeked out. As a sports writer tells us “it was a very peculiar knockout.” It was_ that, brother. It sure was. Peculiar—to professional boxing. The manager of the victorious Ro- senberg is also the manager of ‘the middleweight Kid Kaplan. Last year both fighters and the manager were asked by the Chicago Commission to leave the city since the stockyards were here and the city could not stand the presence of both at the same time. These birds it seems car- ry a select crew of New York gunmen, When the boys are not breaking strikes in New York and vicinity, they form the honorary guard of the two boxers. It is likely the city health commissioner of Chicago had some- thing to do with the invitation given to the boxers to leave. Imagine the situation in the city where the citi- zens would be in danger of suffoca- tion, or,- due to the presence of of being straight shooting gunmen, bored to death, oF a ae HEN once you start on professional sport it is easy to find facts of the fake of. it, The whole business is business — and_a pleasure to discuss workers’ sports.for a” change. Which also reminds us that you Bugs who live in Fassaic or in the vicinity can help good clean workers’ sports and enjoy yourselves at the same time. Every Sunday night the Young Workers’ Sports Club arranges an en- tertafiment and social at the Hungar- ian Workers’ Home at 28 Dayton Ave., Passaic, N. J. Step over to step the Black Bottom. If you don’t do this nearest approach to Delirium Tre- mpgns why you can dance. And for thig week-——that’s that. nine UAE eo RUN EPI OF aT ee anne ee I, They did not expect us:_ trenches, barbed wire, advance guard, all was unprotected on the riverside, and as visible as on a teaboard. Slowly glid- ing along the bank, the torpedo boats take convenient positions—the gun- ner directs the cannon. The shells are brought up out of the ammunition room. The command sounds: “Tire!” The cannon mouths are hurling flashes of fire; with a light, metallic ring the cartridge shells fall, and af- ter ten to fifteen seconds an ash-col- ored rises anfidst the fleeing ranks of the adversary, the gunner alters the di- rection. “Visor 2, Fire!” The torpedo boat “Retivy” also be- gins firing; ‘“Proshny” sets the church aflame with his stern-chaser. We shall probably reach Galyany (65. kilometers above Sarapul) by daylight. , Another stretch of ten kilometers and we are at our destination. The red flags are lowered—it was decid- ed to surprise the enemy and to let the squadron pass for that of the White guards, that of Admiral Stark, which is impatiently expected by the Whites. The ships dart out from be- 1ind an island in full steam, pass ‘he wharf of Galyany, and put them- selves in position—a difficult maneu ver at this shallow and narrow point. “Shoot only when ordered”’— one boat signals to the other. The situ- ation is this: about 70 meters from shore, next to the church, a heavy, six-inch cannon is plainly visible. Back of it on the hillock, many curi- ous peasants, and among them—a lit- tle band of armed soldiers. On ‘the church spire—another cannon—per- haps a machine gun. At the shore on the left—a tow-boat with a White guardist. Field kitehens are smok- ing, white tents are gleaming among the.bushes, soldiers are stretched out at the shore and observing with curi- osity the maneuvers of the torpedo boats. Midway in the river, however, guarded by a sentry, a floating. grave motionless and quiet. “Pritky” communicates orders with a lowered voice to the other ships. “Retivy” approaches the tow-boat, and without betraying itself, gains assurance that the precious live car- go is on board. “Pritky” directs its cannon on the six-inch cannon of the opponent “in order to destroy # at the-first move of the enemy; nor does it overlook the infantry. “ But how can the heavy tow-boat be liberated from its anchors, how can it be released from the narrow trap of sand shoals and islands? Fortu- nately a hostile tracker is puffing at the wharf. Our officer—in a gold- braided cap, of comrse—gives to the captain of the tracker the positive order: “In the name of the commander of the fleet, Admiral Stark, I command you to take the boat with the prison- ers in tow amd fo follow us!” Trained by the Whites to slavish obedience, the captain of the tracker immediately executes the order, ap proaches the boat and takes it in tow. Infinitely slow, the minutes drag on, until the awkward steamer attach- es the steel hawser and makes all preparations for the trip. Our crew stands motionless, their faces are deadly pale, they believe, and yet do not dare hope, that this dream should be realized, that the hopelessly doom- ed boat should gain liberty. Whisper- ing, they ask each other: “Well, is he ever going te move? He is still standing.” However, impressed by the sharp command of our officer, the tracker plays his role brilliantly. On the tow- boat, great commotion prevails. The assisting commander and the officer himeelf tay down thelr arms to help raise the anchor. And little by little the ponderous monster begins to give up its motionless attitude, raises a prong, the tightly stretched cords hang slack for a moment, to straight en out again tmmediately at a new turn, The commander of the “Pritky” speaks calmly with the bewildered guard of the prisoners. Kazan-Sarapul — - and black-steaming fountain |. “I command you in the name of the admiral to keep perfect peace and to follow us—-we shall accompany you.” “We have little wood,” they try to protest from the tracker. . “No matter, there is plenty of wood along the way,” answers the com- mander of the flotilla—and the tor- pedo boats proceed slowly, so ag not to arouse the suspicion of the peo- ple’on shore, in the direction of Sara- pul, And already those inside the tow- beat begin to be alarmed. “Where are they dragging us, where, why?” - ; One of the prisoners, a sailor, push- es to the stern of the tow-boat where thru a thick board a hole_is plucked out with a pocket knife—the only little opening thru which something can be seen of sky and water. ee ete loops are opened above their heads and they are called out—with strange- ly ringing, excited voices and by a name forbidden ‘and outlawed: “Come out, comrades!” And yet they came, crawling, in tears, One after another they arose from the dead. What spectacle un- folded itself on that deck. Several Chinese, who had no one in this cold land, dropped at the feet of a sailor and expressed in strange, bleating ac cents their boundless devotion to thé people who in the name of the broth- erhood of the oppressed knew \how to die. In the morning .the city and the troops received the prisoners. The tow-boat was brot to the shore, and the 430 wavering, pale, ragged human beings proceeded to the land along an avenue of honor formed by the Long | sailors. The long series of bast-fig- and attentively he observes the myz-jures, with g¢rotesque head-wear and MAXIM GORKY. terious ships and their silent crews. Distorted faces press about him, read- ing every trace of hope or danger from his countenance, It is as if a single, lifeless, motionless face stared at him. “They are all alike, long, gray.” ~ “Are they White guardists, ha? Look more carefully!” "Bat: Wes tao “What, no? Why the devil don’t you speak?” The observer ie pulled away from his post. “It seems to me that they are some of ours, from the Baltic fleet.” But these wretches, who had spent three weeks in this plague hole, who had slept and eaten in their own ex- crements, bare, covered only with sack cloth—-they do not dare hope, Even at Sarapul, when the people, grecting them at the quay, shouted and wept, when they arrested the White guardist sentry,’ and, as they did not dare climb down in chat pest- hole, called the prisoners out-—these answered only with oaths and groans. None of the 430 human beings be- lieved in a deliverance. Only yester day the sentry had taken the last shirt for a bread crust; only yester- day morning, seven bayonets dragged out the torn bodies of the three broth- ers Krasnopyeroy and twenty-seven other mea. For twenty-four hours no bread had been thrown down the loops (a qwarter pound @ day per man was all they had received for three weeks). It was clear: i did mot even ‘pay to teed these condemned any longer. Some night, or some grey, bloodless morning the end would come for all of them—an unknown, but inexpress- tbly bitter end. And suddenly they are taken, God knows where, the ST TE . with fantastic caps of braided straw, the appearance of a procession from another world. And in tae multitude, shaken by this spectacle, again awak- ens the superb humor of the people. “Who dressed you up like that, com- rades?” “Don't you see, it is the uniform of the assemblies—each has a last shirt and a rope around his neck.” “Don't step on my shoes, don't you see—the toes are sticking out,” and he raises up his foot, swaddled in dir- ty rags. , On the way to the shore, with voic- es sounding hollow after the long tor- tures in that place of horror, they start the Marseillaise. And the song does not end even at the city square. Here the representative of the pris- oners greets the seamen of the Vol- ga flotilla, their commander, and the Soviet powers. Rasskolnikov is car- ried on shoulders into the dining hall, where hot food and tea has been pre- pared. Indescribable faces, words, tears, it is as if a whole family who has just found its lost father, son, or brother, were sitting beside the new- ly recovered and watching him eat. In the crowd of soldiers and sail- ors are noticeable now and then the gold-braided caps of the few officers who have been thru the entire three month campaign from Kazan to Sara pul. I think that for a long time Were not welcomed with such re ence and brotherly as on this day. And if there exists g 7398 tween the intelligentsia and the 7 es a unity in spirit, in sacrifices in heroic deeds, it arose ment, When the mothers ors, their wives and children, the officers for delivering t ers, brothers and children tortures of death. ff heir from «FE LE