NCR 315 v. IBM 1130

Two years ago, after a long, futile debate with friends about who was the greatest heavyweight boxer of all time, Miami's Murry Woroner, 43, a full-time producer of radio specials and part-time sports buff, decided to take the question to the nearest modern oracle: a computer. He asked 250 boxing writers and other ring experts to rate famous pugilists on a scale of 58 variables, ranging from the standard (speed, cutability, punching power) to the subtle (killer instinct, ring generalship, courage). With the help of a few experts, he studied shadowy old films and yellowed newspaper clippings of fights to determine the number and kinds of punches each boxer threw. Then he reduced the field to the 16 top-rated heavyweights, from bare-knuckled John L. Sullivan to fancydancing Muhammad Ali. He fed all the information into a National Cash Register 315 computer. After proper programming, the machine was ready to spew out a blow-by-blow account of a mythical fight.

With the addition of taped sound effects and a breathless, leather-swinging commentary by Sportscaster Guy Le-Bow, Woroner packaged the simulated matches into a 16-week radio series and billed it as the All-Time Heavyweight Tournament and Championship Fight. Few radio men gave the series much of a chance. They obviously failed to consider all the fans who jaw endlessly about sports in taverns and barbershops. Newspapers ran fanciful accounts of the fights; Las Vegas posted weekly odds. For the final championship fight between Rocky Marciano and Jack Dempsey, an audience of 16.5 million listened over 380 stations as the Rock loosed "a brutal shot to the heart, a slamming left and right to the jaw," and dropped the bloodied Manassa Mauler for the count in two minutes and 28 seconds of the 13th round.

Wild and Unrestrained. That was in December. Now Woroner is back with the Ail-Time Middleweight Tournament and Championship Fight. But this time, he has a network of 650 stations in the U.S. and abroad, and advertising sales of about $4.5 million. His show might well be called the All-Time Most Successful Independently Produced Radio Series.

Last week, for a program matching Rocky Graziano and Tiger Flowers (1895-1927), Woroner interviewed Middleweights Carmen Basilic and Mickey Walker about the effect that "the slam-bang club fighter tactics of Rocky" would have on "the china chin of the Georgia Deacon." The scene set, Le-Bow then took over to describe the action, pausing now and then to note that Martha Raye and Martin Balsam were in the "audience" or, in the middle of a clinch, to exclaim: "The Rock looks down this way and winks, of all things! If this is all in fun, he had better tell Flowers about it!" Then, as the crowd noise mounted to a frenzy in the eleventh round, LeBow shouted: "Rocky connects with a solid right to the head! This is Graziano the street fighter, the great lusty, gutsy brawler! Rocky bombs a right to the face, a right to the jaw, another right to the jaw, and Flowers is down! Down and it seems out . . . five ... six ... no movement . . . eight . . . nine . . . ten! Rocky is jumping up and down, his joy wild and unrestrained!"

Why Not? Woroner's joy at the success of his gimmick is equally unrestrained. Next September he will broadcast a play-off tournament between the "16 greatest college football teams of all time." In 1970, in conjunction with National Football League Films, he plans to stage Friday-night games between pro football teams. Also in the works is a project to animate still pictures of boxers so that the computerized fights can be moved to television. "And we could do more than sports," says Woroner. "Much more! Wars! Hitler's Germany against the Roman Empire! Napoleon versus Alexander the Great! How about election campaigns? George Washington versus Franklin Roosevelt! Abraham Lincoln against George Wallace! And debates? Socrates takes on Karl Marx! Thoreau against Jean-Paul Sartre! Why not? Why not?"

None of Woroner's programs, of course, are going to solve any arguments at the neighborhood saloon or barbershop. Indeed, each week as boxers are eliminated in Woroner's alltime tournament, he is besieged with irate letters from fans accusing the computer of taking a dive. If the trend toward computerized sports continues, the day may come when barber-chair sportsmen will be arguing: "Oh yeah? Digit for digit, the NCR 315 can fold, staple and mutilate the IBM 1130!"

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