Body Chess

Detective Henry Wittenberg had eaten too much. He had also won his first two matches, in the Olympic wrestling trials last week, so easily that he scarcely worked up a sweat. Feeling heavy in the midriff and afraid of exceeding the 191 Ib. weight, Wittenberg decided on a little road work. As he stepped on to the darkened Iowa State College track, Wrestler Wittenberg tripped and fell, fracturing a bone in his ankle.

Next day, with a lump on his ankle as big as a doorknob, heavy-set Henry Wittenberg warily circled a stringy young opponent, suddenly ankle-dragged him to the mat, and nailed him in 6:03. He won two more bouts by falls (in one, he accidentally broke his opponent's leg). In winning the final bout by a decision, against Minnesota's Verne Gagne, Wittenberg got his only black mark.

No Losses. Detective Wittenberg, a member of "New York's Finest" since 1941, is the finest U.S. amateur wrestler in & out of uniform. Last month he became the first man ever to win seven National A.A.U. senior wrestling titles. He is also the best U.S. bet to win the heavyweight Olympic wrestling event this summer in London (toughest competitors: the Turks and Swedes).

Wittenberg took up wrestling at New York's City College ('39), hasn't lost any of his 300-odd matches since graduation. Famed on the force and around the mats for his polysyllabic vocabulary, Wittenberg has a master's degree from Columbia's Teachers College, taught public school briefly before turning cop. He talks earnestly of "pectoral muscles" and "neural paths," is proud that he is one man who can mangle his opponent but not his mother tongue. After hours, he dabbles in oils and plays enthusiastic chess. In fact, he considers wrestling a kind of "body chess" ("You give a man a leg as a gambit"), thinks body position more important than individual holds.

Wrestling helps Wittenberg in his detective work ("The thing you've got to have in both is presence of mind"). The Police Department has cited him twice for bravery, once for rescuing two kids from a burning building, the other time for catching two armed bandits with his bare hands. His wife, an expert fencer, has passed her exams for policewoman.

No Clocks. Wittenberg, who is 29, expects to go on wrestling for a long time. Says he: "In wrestling, you don't compete against a clock or against a tape measure. And as you begin to slow down, you get smarter." Turn pro? Not Henry Wittenberg. Says he coldly: "I question the authenticity of professional wrestling."

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