Boxing has had a
black-and-blue time of it in the 1950s, but the ultimate absurdity was reached
last week when New York's attorney general had to send the state troopers out
to bring in Cus D'Amato for answers to questions the attorney general had every
right to ask; questions about Cus's custodianship of Floyd Patterson as
heavyweight champion of the world; questions that Cus insists he has clear and
shining answers to. It was beneath the D'Amato dignity or something to respond
to an invitation to come in and talk to the attorney general; so a subpoena was
issued, and still no D'Amato; and thus the police were called out, and D'Amato
Anticlimactically, the New York State Athletic Commission three days later
revoked D'Amato's license as a manager. At the same time it suspended for three
years the matchmaker's license of Bill Rosensohn, who was in charge of the last
heavyweight championship fight.
In 1960 boxing
has no place to go but up.
Isolated by deep
marsh and ice covered channels in Lake St. Clair, though hardly out of sight of
Detroit's skyscrapers, is the island of Ste. Anne's. Refuge for sporting
industrialists and a duck hunter's paradise, it became in one short minute last
week the scene of tragedy.
ammunition boxes behind a three-foot-high improvised shore blind were two duck
hunters the nation knew: Harlow H. Curtice, 66, onetime president of General
Motors, and Harry W. Anderson, 67, former G.M. vice-president and Curtice's
longtime hunting companion.
It was a good day
by the perverse weather standards of duck hunters. A 13-mile-an-hour wind gave
bite to the 17� cold, keeping the ducks moving beneath the overcast sky. The
hunters had killed six mallards by 11:15 that morning when another flock swung
upwind across the decoys from the left. Curtice, sitting on the right, sighted
on the lead duck, which was properly his target. Anderson, presumably, would
remain sitting like Curtice, and fire at the rear of the flock. Instead,
Anderson inexplicably stood and came into Curtice's line of fire. His death
focused attention on some things that all hunters know or are supposed to
quarters of duck blinds make accidents like this one rare. Duck hunting
accounts for only 5% of shooting accidents and is relatively hazard-free.
Perhaps the secretary of the National Rifle Association, Frank Daniel, said it
best: "What happened is the same thing that happens when a man who knows
better walks out in front of a truck. He just forgot."