ln a shabby, smalltime sporting-club in Brooklyn, 2,000 representatives of the fertile social sediment in which prizefighting has its roots last week watched a preliminary bout between two light heavyweights. One was a shaky, timid Negro, the other a slow-footed, lumbering white man with a scarred face and a flat nose. In the first round, the Negro fell without being hit, then, in the second, took a left hook on the face and was counted out. Like most cheap preliminaries, it was mediocre entertainment and the crowd booed. Unlike most cheap preliminaries, it...
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