"I just hit 'em and they go ah-h-h-h-h-h-h!" For the last five years barrel-bellied, beer-bibbing Tony Galento, a New Jersey saloonkeeper, has made this boast to anyone within earshot. And for five years everyone within earshot has smiled at the pasty, pudgy little prattler and his self-appraised ability to knock out the best prizefighter in the world. He looked as unfit for the prize ring as a dachshund for a greyhound race.
Last week, after a year of extravagant ballyhoo on the part of his manager, shrewd Oldtimer Joe Jacobs, Two-Ton Tony (weight 233!)...
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