Incident in Schedule

The night last June that Max Baer clowned away his title to colorless James J. Braddock, thus bringing heavyweight boxing to its all-time low, Joe Louis had been a professional less than one year. Since then the Detroit Negro has brought back to the sport a brand of excitement unknown since the days of Dempsey. Whereas practically nobody has indicated any desire to watch Champion Braddock flex his biceps, record-breaking crowds have squeezed in to watch Louis in encounters which were not much more competitive than Braddock's straight exhibition matches.

Defeated but four times in the 80 bouts he has fought since drawing on gloves in 1933 at the age of 19, Louis at intervals of six weeks has recently knocked out King Levinsky in one round, Baer in four, Primo Camera in six. Only the clock and calendar, say experts, separate him from the heavyweight championship, since he is scheduled to fight Braddock next September. Meantime he and his managers, a pair of dusky financiers from Detroit and Chicago, plan to eliminate Isadoro Gastanaga in Havana Dec. 29, Charley Retzlaff in Chicago the following month, one-time Champion Max Schmeling in New York City in June. A routine incident in this schedule included the elimination of Paulino Uzcudun at Madison Square Garden last week.

Hounds course as swiftly, horses leap as nimbly in pursuit of a bag of aniseed as they do following a real live fox. Boxer Louis' amazing speed, poise and general genius might have been observed as fully had he worked out with a punching bag instead of a real, live human like Paulino Uzcudun. But neither fox hunters nor fight fans get full fun out of bags, which was the only reason for 20,000 people paying $128,000 to see an animated bronze statue pitted against a lumpy Spaniard a full decade past his prime. The billing was that nobody had knocked out Paulino Uzcudun in all his 36 years. The betting was in what round Louis would do it. Money wiser than most sportswriters fancied Round Four. Just as the professional gamblers had anticipated, Round Four it was.

Like a dentist trying to get his pliers into the mouth of a terrified, wriggling patient, Louis stalked around the ring watching the bobbing head and flailing elbows of Uzcudun. waiting for the moment when the Spaniard's jaw would offer a fleeting target. The moment finally arrived. The blow that ended the fight was the sort that a fat bartender lays into an objectionable drunk. Its progress was slow, inevitable, evident to all present. It laid Uzcudun flat on his back. It also opened his cheek, drove one of his teeth through his lip.

In his dressing room, Uzcudun observed in his limited English that Louis "hits too hard."

In his dressing room, imperturbable as a gingerbread man, Joe Louis remarked: "It was an easy fight. The only one that gave me less trouble was Levinsky."

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