Gentlemen's Agreement

For a year, Joe Louis' friends had been telling him it was time to quit. Joe just scratched his head (balding on top) and kept everybody guessing. Then he discovered a way of leaving the ring the way he came into it--with a bang--and without saying goodbye.

In Miami last week, the 34-year-old heavyweight champion gave up the title he had defended 25 times in nearly twelve years and announced that he had turned promoter. His first venture, he said, would be a world's heavyweight championship bout between Jersey Joe Walcott and Cincinnati's Ezzard Charles, probably in Chicago, in June. Big Joe added that the match had the blessing of Abe Greene of Paterson, N.J., Commissioner of the National Boxing Association, and that the winner would be champion, at least in the 46 states (all but New York and Massachusetts) where N.B.A. controls fighting.

After the first shock wore off, screams were heard from as far away as London. Who did Louis think he was, anyway, dictating his own successor? The loudest screams came from Promoter Mike Jacobs, semi-retired boss of Manhattan's 20th Century Sporting Club: "I never thought he would do this to me . . . I'm getting back in harness in two weeks. We ain't conceding nothing." It was clear to him that Promoter Joe had declared war on Promoter Mike, the man who masterminded all of Louis' championship fights.

The promoting business was not all Joe's idea. Last month in Chicago's Belmont Hotel, the champ had listened and nodded as two men unfolded the details of the deal. One of them was promotion-wise Arthur M. Wirtz, co-owner of Sonja Henie's Hollywood Ice Revue. The other was Grain Operator James D. Norris, son of the owner of the Detroit Red Wings. They offered Joe a third interest in a new promotional firm to be called the International Boxing Club. It sounded good to Joe. Last week, the three partners met again at Norris' home in Coral Gables, Fla. and came to a gentlemen's agreement. Despite Mike Jacobs' brave words and innate wariness, it looked like Wirtz & Co. had stolen a long lead. After nearly 35 years, control of heavyweight boxing might shift from Manhattan to the Midwest and there might be heavyweight title fights in Cleveland and Chicago for a change. But nobody knew how long it would be before the New York State Boxing Commission and the rest of the U.S. agreed on the next world champion.

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