Feminine Defense

Big, easygoing Patrolman Stanley Westgate found his good nature and his 190 Ib. sorely tried when he was assigned to Detroit's tough East Side several years ago. Citizens thereabouts don't like cops. One night six men gave him clubs up an alley. Later three men slugged him from behind; later still, a tough cabbie lead-hosed him when he poked his face in the cab.

Enough was enough for Officer Westgate. He took up the study of jujitsu. By the time he'd perfected 104 grips he was transferred to a dark river front beat, even tougher. Hooligans learned to respect the man who whirled them casually about his head, crashed them to the pavement, piled them neatly under his knee. Officer Westgate, a thoughtful man, decided that women, too, should be able to protect themselves; specifically that his wife Violet (weight, 114 Ib.) should be able to repel mashers. "No," said Violet, "I'd rather scream." "You must," said Officer Westgate, flipping her headlong across the room. "See how easy it is? I'll have no thug beating up my missus." Violet agreed to learn four holds, no more. They studied together, became adept. Interest in the Westgates' ability grew; week ago the Detroit police gave a demonstration before a crowd in the city's Masonic Temple. Finale was the Westgate act, entitled: "A Woman Defends Herself."

The officer throttled his little wife viciously; she pinned his ears to the floor. He came back kicking and swinging; she treated him to a shoulder shrug, a slight wrist twist and a hip flip. Westgate sailed through the air. "Ooooo," said the audience. Detroit's toughest cop was taken to the hospital with a broken leg and twisted tendons. Said his remorseful wife: "I never wanted to learn those tricks. . . . I feel trembly and just awful. . . . I've never hurt him before. It was lack of wall space. I had no perspective in that big hall."

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