Boy's Cinema (1930-31)

Every Tuesday BOY'S CINEMA 3 A stirring story of the boxing ring and how a young boxer rises to be lightweight champion, but through swollen-headedness loses hisjchanripionship |and becomes a man- Starring Lew Ayres and Robert Arnsstrong. < The Failure ! THE Kid waltzed into liis man, plas- tered face and body with left and right and drove the Illinois-bred Italian around the ring ami<l the de- lighted yells of a section of the crowd, but to the chagrin of his manager. There was something almost tigerish in Kid Mason's attack, yet the compari- son was not altogether to his credit as a craftsman of the rope<l square. When the tiger is de.^perate lie lo.<es his cun- ning, and so it was with the Kid. In the ferocity of his onslaught there was a dangerous lack of judgment and finesse, dangerous becaii.se Toni I'etrelli was not the man with whom to take chances. For a moment Petrelli .seemed over- whelmed, and, driven to the ropes, fell into a chnch. The referee sepavate<l the two fightei-s, and the Kid. the wild light of battle in his eye, pounced on his opponent atrain. This time I'etrelli was ready for liini. The Kid left him.self wide open. Petrelli ducked a pile-driving left, and «hippe<l a right-cross to the point of the jaw. The smack of his glove was followed bj' the thud of the Kid's bo<Iy a? he hit the boards. The Kid raie at "five," but was ham- mered off his feet once more after sixty hectic seconds of "mixing." He struggled up at the count of "nine," plainly groggy, and covered himself in a vain effort to block the rain of ter- rific punches that Petrelli showere<^i on him from all angles. The Italian was the aggressor now, but he was fighting with a precision that Kid Mason had not displayed smcc the opening round. A crisp left bruised the Kid's eye. A right slammed to the face drew" blood from teeth and nostrils. He struggled on gamely against the turning tide of fortune, but his fierce, ill-timed rush of :i minute and a half before had cost him dear, and he was taking the con.se- quenccs in one grand orgy of punish- ment. He was practically "out " on his ■feet, with I'etrelli pounding him re- lentlessly. Dismay was registered on the faces of three men standing just below the e<lge of tht> ring at the Kid's corner. One of those men wa.s George Regan. Kid Mason's manager, and his particular im- pres.sion implied disgust as well as dis- may. The other two were seconds. With the exultant yells of I'etrelli's factioi; diiuiing through the hall, one of the seconds spoke to Hegan. He was an old-time pug known to the sporting fraternity as Jeff, and a familiar per- sonality at Regan's training-quarters, where more thaiKone champion had been coached. A towel fokled over the sleeve of his sweater. Jie peered up through the ropes at the wilting Kid and tlie Illinois slayer. "What are you goin' to do, George?" he blurted to Regan. "Let him get muixlercd ?" Regan spoke through clenched teeth. His habitually pleasant face was the pic- tui'e of resentment. "It ain't murder," he groumi out. "It's suicide. He's done everything I told him not to." The words were punctuated with a couple of ugly smacks as I'etrelli's gloves snapped home to the body. The Kid sa!,'sed pitifully. OUl Jeff stirred liimself. "The towel, George," he groaned. "I'm gonna throw it in." "No, you ain't," jerked Regan, grip- ping his arm. Kid Mason at that instant made a feeble attempt to rally. He started a right swing but never finished it. For I'otrolli's glove ripped into his solar and folded him like a clasp-knife, and next moment the Italian sent another blow crashing to the ix)int. The Kid pitched f;u'e forward, and the referee began to count. "Onc^two— three—four " The youngster oti the* floor tried to rise, but his cheek sank to the resin again. "Six—seven—eight— nine ' The Kid stirred, but could not gain iiis feet—until the referee was announcing the winner. While the battered form of the Kid leaned .sorrily against the ropes, the referee raised his conqueroi's arm aloft. Pandemonium broke loose. Mind galled by defeat and brain daze<l by tlie maul- ing he had receive*!. Kid Mason was but dimly a«are of I'etrelli waving to the crowd genially, while his camp-followers mobbed the ring and clamoured bois- terous congratulations. In his dressing-room, htiddled on the edge of the inasseur's table, with face anti body showing the marks of puni.sh- ment, the Kid sat in a forlorn stupor as George Regan pace<l up and down before liim. Jeff and the other second. McNeil by name, stood in the background. "Yeah, it's ftinny," Regan was .say ing. "I've been knockin' around with you since we was kids, and all the time i thought you had the makin's of a fighter. But I was all wrong. You're a born manager!" And he rapped out the wo'xls with bitter, scathing sarcasm. The Kid did not meet his eyes. He was staring dismally at the floor. "That's what you are," Regan con- tinued in the same tone. "And so long as you don't need me, whj', I'll just ' He did not finish the sentence, but shrugged his shoulders eloquently and moved in the direction of the door. The July lltb, 1931.