Philadelphia Fiasco

In Manhattan's Traffic Court one morning last week, a muscular scofflaw named Johnny Saxton stepped to the bar. He had already paid a $600 fine for ignoring a fistful of parking tickets; now he was threatened with a 15-day stretch in the workhouse. Chief Magistrate John M. Murtagh glared at the young (24) Negro, listened to his lawyer's plea for mercy, and surprised every cop in the city by suspending Saxton's sentence.

It was Johnny's week for charming judges. In the ring with Welterweight Champion Kid Gavilan just the night before, he had butted, bunny-hugged and bulled his way through a feeble 15-round imitation of a fist fight, walked off with a unanimous decision and the Kid's title. A loud majority of the fans agreed that no performance had raised such a stink in Convention Hall since the Progressive Party Convention of 1948.

A Piece of the Kid. New York City's Daily Mirror Columnist Dan Parker had a deceptively complicated explanation. Saxton had been a promising amateur boxer, Parker remembered, but as a professional he had earned a shot at the title by knocking over a series of stumblebums. Now he was managed by Blinky Palermo, a Philadelphia hoodlum unable to get a license in New York. To make matters worse, Blinky was friendly with Frank Carbo, the underworld boss of boxing. And Carbo owned a piece of Kid Gavilan.

"A possible explanation of the putrid affair," wrote Parker, "is that Signer Carbo ... saw that the Keed not only was getting balky but also was slipping rapidly, and, to keep control of the title, arranged with Blinky -to pass it along to Saxton. Gavilan apparently was suspicious from the start."

If Gavilan had indeed suspected a fix, he had delayed the inevitable by some strange stratagems: first by breaking his hand, next by coming down with the mumps. In the ring, however, there was no doubt that he was reluctant to fight. "There were long, painful intervals," wrote Parker, "in which the two warriors stood and regarded each other like querulous old hens. Then, without a 'shall we dawnce?' cue, they would embrace and waltz a measure or two."

Referee's Elbow. For a couple of minutes in the last round, the Kid came to life. But it was too late to impress the judges. Later, in his dressing room, Gavilan really turned it on. He bawled, bellowed for justice and retired from the ring in rapid succession. To hear the Kid tell it, Referee Pete Pantaleo massaged him in the clinches with a bony elbow; Blinky Palermo polished him off just by being there. "I give boxing back to Philadelphia," wailed the Kid.

In Philadelphia, there were no takers.

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