"We cannot do that," said a Puerto Rican official. "If we do that we will be saying that we are stupid."
"You are!" shouted Gilmour.
"We are not," said a Puerto Rican reporter.
"You're not only stupid," bellowed Gilmour over somebody's shoulder, "you're all a bunch of crooks."
" Nat Fleischer," a reporter said, pointing to Fleischer standing meekly behind the scale. " Nat Fleischer, there is a recognized authority. Tell him, Mr. Fleischer, what was it? Wasn't it 175?" Nat extended his hands omnipotently, and then wagged his head in a manner which could be taken for a yes or a no.
"What's he know?" said Gilmour. "I don't even like the idea of him being a judge for this fight. He's so old he can't even see."
The argument continued for an hour, and the room was filled with the Scottish and Puerto Rican tongues colliding. Finally Gilmour relented, went back to the hotel with Calderwood and brewed their char (tea) and solemnly ate English biscuits. Inadvertently, Gilmour was the star of this fight, but that hardly appeased him. All he wanted to do after the fight was to get back to civilization, away from this island, where life seems like an Arthur Murray dance party.
As for Torres, who can estimate his special problem? He was quite proud of himself in the dressing room, and correctly so. When he wants to be, he is the most exciting and entertaining fighter in boxing today. He just didn't have a chance to prove that fact against Calderwood, and a week from now his countrymen will be just as uncertain of his skills as ever. But Torres is a long way from the time only a few years ago when he told a writer: "I have wasted so much of my life as a fighter. I don't have a penny."
Now, although being the light heavyweight champion is like being the Vice-President of the United States, he is making money from his title. He will get $80,000 to defend it against Dick Tiger in Madison Square Garden in December, and his career as a singer is moving along, he says.
"I have four records out," he says.