Imperial Valley Press

NEW YORK, June 21. (UP)—"Boys, no pictures." These were Bill Brown's words to the photographers after his first look at Arturo Godoy in the South American's dressing room after his knockout by Joe Louis. This three word order by the ablest of New York's boxing commissioners tells almost the whole story of last night's fight for the world's heavyweight championship. Before he fell for the third and final time in the eighth round Godoy took a beating that few animals could have endured. For 22 minutes and 21 seconds—until he pitched forward to land on the back of his neck, bloody, almost blind, and out of his senses—he was persecuted as mercilessly as a bull in an arena. So closely did the fight parallel a bull fight, with the big, helpless clumsy but terribly brave Chilean serving as the bull and the fast sure, confident, and quick-striking Louis playing the role of matador, one would not have been surprised had Lou at the kill taken an ear of Godoy and thrown it to the crowd. Punched Past Reason Had Louis done this Godoy would not have known the difference, because the South American had been punched beyond reason at this point. All he had left at the finish was an inner spark of courage that somehow enabled him to wrest himself loose from the referee's arms and on legs of rubber, totter toward the champion's corner to carry on the fight. Ten policemen were needed to pinion his arms to his side and strong-arm him back to his corner. As for Louis, last night's fight, which marked his 11th defense of his title, showed him at his very best as a fighter. Having fought Godoy 15 rounds in an earlier bout, Joe knew just what he had to do to win and he did it. For six rounds he boxed Godoy. In close. Head to head. Shoulder to shoulder. Short left hooks. Quick, stabbing rights. Piston punches to the stomach. Sitting there at the ringside, close by the canvas, one could see the gradual disintegration of the powerful Godoy. A cut here. A cut there. During the first two or three rounds he was strong enough to wrestle and tug Louis about the ring. Then, as Joe kept hammering, he grew weaker, and the champion began to be the stronger of the two. When Louis came back to his corner after the sixth round he told his trainer, Jack Blackburn: "He's getting soft now. I can

So Blackburn told the brown boy to quit boxing when he went out for the seventh and start moving around and hitting "Take a few shots at him, Chappie," Blackburn said. Joe got his first shot just before the end of the round. Godoy missed a wild right hand swing and Louis unloosed a right uppercut that blasted the Chilean out of his crouch and straightened him as completely as a soldier at attention. There he stood, a bewildered target. Bang. Bang. Bang. Louis pounded him with rights and lefts and Godoy slumped to his knees. The timekeeper had just started the count of six when Godoy staggered to his feet. Before Louis could hit him again the bell rang, ending the round. Finish in Eighth Everybody knew the finish would come in the eighth and it did. Godoy tried to protect himself by crouching but Louis beat him up-right and crushed him to the floor for a count of eight. When he got up Joe poured rights and lefts into his face and he toppled forward. Even as he fell the referee ran to protect him and waved the champion into a neutral corner. Five former holders of the title saw the fight—Tunney, Dempsey, Sharkey, Baer and Braddock. I doubt very much if any one of them, on the best day he ever saw, could have handled the Louis of the night of June 20, 1940.