Big Munn

A Titanic column of brawn astounded sportsmen, last January (TIME, Jan. 19), by downing the mighty Ed ("Strangler") Lewis in Kansas City, thus acquiring the world's heavyweight wrestling championship.

Last week he, Wayne ("Big") Munn, then the greatest wrestler in the world, faced Stanislaus Zbyszko, 58-year-old Pole, who weighed 50 pounds less (210) and stood not higher than his shoulder. In days that were, Zbyszko himself had been a champion, but those days were past. Philadelphians gathered to the match with the steadfast mien of people attending a wake. They admired Zbyszko's courage* but deplored his bravado.

For a while, the Pole acquiesced to the embraces of his prodigious opponent. After eight minutes of wrestling, however, he picked up the opposing Hercules, twirled him around his head, hurled him to the floor. Another fall followed in even shorter time. Mrs. Bessie Kaufman, wife of Munn's manager, fainted, with a little gasp, into the lap of Mrs. Edna Munn.

Munn was revived in his dressing room. Zbyszko went away in an automobile with a police escort. Said sport correspondents, according to their dispositions : "Able Zbyszko," "Unable Munn."

In the next day's press, Munn announced that he had been sick . . . "temperature of 102," "acute follicular tonsilitis with a touch of bronchitis."

*Last February, Munn easily defeated Zbyszko.