Articles5

FISTS OF CROSS PLAINS
by Charles R. Saunders

     “Testing . . . testing . . . one, two. . . How I ever drew this ridiculous assignment I’ll never know. . . Oh,
well, another day, another dollar. . .”
     “Howard! We’re on the air!”
     “Oh. Right. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen to KBC’s Wacky World of Sports. Tonight, live from Cross
Plains, Texas, we bring you the finals of the Robert E. Howard Heavyweight Championship, pitting Yucca
Junction, Arizona’s Kirby Karnes against Dennis Dorgan of the good ship Python in fifteen rounds or less of
pugilistic peregrinations. I’m Howard Moresell, and with me is my distinguished colleague Frank Stifford,
and we are about to give you the blow-by-blow account of what promises to be a grueling, brutal bout. As
we wait for the contestants to emerge from their dressing rooms, let’s recap some of the bouts that led up
to tonight’s confrontation. And some exciting and unusual bouts they were, right, Frank?”
     “Right indeed, Howard. Take the first match in the quarter-finals, in which finalist Kirby Karnes knocked
out Jack Mahoney in nine rounds. The bout was fairly even over the first six rounds, and then Karnes’s
greater strength told. Maloney took quite a battering before his manager kept yelling ‘Remember the bull
pen, remember the bull pen’ at his fighter. This did not prevent Karnes from landing the stronger blows,
however.”
     “Yes, Frank, that was a good contest. In the second quarter-final bout, Kid Allison took a twelve-round
decision from Iron Mike Brennon. Allison, a fast light-heavyweight, won every round, but it was a tough
fight all the way. One of Brennon’s unscientific haymakers almost ended it for Allison in the final round.
Allison was saved when Brennon missed a punch and fell out of the ring. In the time it took Iron Mike to get
back in, Allison was able to clear his head and last out the round to make the decision.”
     “Brennon reminded me of George Chuvalo, Howard.”
     “An interesting point, Frank. The third bout of the quarter-finals was bizarre in the extreme. Ace
Jessell, the only black contender in the tournament, was clearly a superior boxer to his opponent, one
Diego ‘Caveman’ Lopez. But by the eighth round, the crude but hard-hitting Lopez had Jessell out on his
feet from a severe body battering. Just as Lopez was about to launch a bone-crunching right to end
matters, John Taveral, Jessell’s manager, unrolled a painting of some kind and waved it from Jessell’s
corner. Seeing it, Ace came to life and kayoed Lopez with a tremendous left-right combination to the head.
Later it was ascertained that the mysterious painting was a portrait of black bare-knuckler Tom Molyneaux,
whom Jessell holds in high esteem. Lopez’s manager is still contesting the legality of the tactic. . .”
Even stranger than the Jessell-Lopez bout was the last one in the quarter-finals, Howard, between Sailor
Steve Costigan and the other finalist, Dennis Dorgan. It was a real barroom brawl that ended in a twelve
round draw. Under the tournament rules, a tie-breaking round was fought. The round was scored even.”
     “The judges were in quite a quandary, Frank. Finally they decided to allow Dorgan and Costigan to box
another twelve rounds. And we all know what subsequently ensued. Don’t we Frank?”
     “The second fight was also declared a draw, Howard. So was the second tie breaking thirteenth round.”
     “Finally, Frank, a coin was tossed to determine the winner. The toss came up heads. . . Dennis Dorgan.
Pandemonium followed as the crews of the Sea Girl and the Python, the respective vessels of Costigan and
Dorgan, engaged in a free-for-all that nearly demolished the stadium. No official decision was rendered,
but the consensus of ringside opinion was that the outcome of the battle was even.”
     “Not to mention, Howard, the dogfight between Dorgan’s and Costigan’s pet bulldogs, Spike and Mike,
which also ended in a draw.
     “Thank you for reminding me of that, Frank. You remember, of course, the post-fight interview, during
which both Dorgan and Costigan remarked, ‘It wuz like fightin’ myself.’”
     “This brings us to the semi-finals, Howard. In the first of these bouts, Kirby Karnes used his 15-pound
weight advantage to grind a game Kid Allison into submission. Allison boxed well, but Karnes was too
strong and fast for him. The high point of the fight came when one of Allison’s seconds ripped one of the
Kid’s gloves and stuck the point of a knife under Allison’s fingernail.    This action brought Allison, who had
been floored twice in the third, back to life. Unfortunately, for the kid, he charged out of his corner before
the second could get the glove back on his hand. The one-gloved Allison was quickly kayoed by Karnes.
The Cross Plains Boxing Commission later suspended Allison’s entire corner for carrying a concealed
weapon into the arena.”
     “And this action immediately precipitated a demonstration by the Texans in the audience, Frank, most of
whom were also in possession of concealed weapons of various varieties. After the shooting ended, the
Jessell-Dorgan semi-final got under way. To say the least, it was an unbelievable fight. Jessell outclassed
Dorgan from the beginning, battering the brutish deckhand all over the ring, round after round. Dorgan
was unable to get a solid blow past Jessell’s impeccable defense. On the other hand, Jessell failed to take
advantage of the numerous opportunities that arose to kayo Dorgan. In fact, by the twelfth round, Jessell
had failed to floor the wide-open seaman. Then, only a minute from what appeared to be a sure decision
victory for Jessell, Dorgan landed a wild roundhouse right on Jessell’s jaw. Ace went down in a heap. In
desperation, John Taveral once again unfurled the portrait of Tom Molyneaux and waved it like a flag at the
stricken fighter. But Dorgan’s corner was well prepared for this maneuver, Bill O’Brien, one of the
members of the Python’s crew, released the catch on the leash of Dorgan’s dog Spike. Charging across the
ring, the fearsome bulldog tore the Molyneaux painting to shreds, not to mention the seat of John Taveral’s
trousers. Amid the resulting confusion, Ace Jessell was counted out, giving Dorgan the knockout victory.
And that, viewers, is how the tournament progressed to this, the moment of truth: the bout that will
determine the championship of the fistic firmament of Robert E. Howard.”
     “Very well put, Howard. We’re still waiting for the fighters to come out of their dressing rooms.”
     “Look, Frank, here comes the heavyweight champion. Perhaps we can get a few words from him on the
upcoming fight. Champ! Can you come over here for a minute? Who do you think will win tonight, Champ?”
     “Don’t matter to me who wins. Both of ‘em are chumps. I would whup both these bums in one night. I
am the greatest, the fastest, the prettiest. These two tramps are the ugliest. No contest, Howard, no
contest. I am the greatest. I’ll fight the winner of this bout for ten million, and he will fall. I am the . . .”
     “Thank you, Champ. Now, let’s analyze this main event. On paper Kirby Karnes would appear to be a
sure fire winner. Listen to what Robert E. Howard had to say about him: ‘illusive as a ghost, quick as a cat,
with TNT in either hand, Kirby was the fighter of which managers have dreamed. . .’. Compare this to what
Howard said about Dorgan, or rather what Howard had Dorgan say about himself: ‘I just walk in and start
firin’ away with both maulers for the head and belly ‘till the other thug drops.’”
     “Sounds as though Karnes is an accomplished boxer who can also punch, while Dorgan is just a cut
above the average club fighter, Howard.”
     “In that assessment, Frank, you are indubitably correct. However, Dorgan does seem to have luck
working in his favor. Perhaps not luck, but a predilection for taking advantage of fortuitous calamities.”
     “Er. . . Yes, Howard. Listen to that crowd yell. Dennis Dorgan has just come out of his dressing room. In
an apparent seaman’s truce, member of the crews of both the Python and the Sea Girl are in Dorgan’s
entourage, and a hard-looking gang they are. Wheeling along in a special cage, of steel no less, is Spike
the bulldog. Dorgan insisted on having Spike in his corner; the Cross Plains Boxing Commission insisted
on the cage.”
     “Now Kirby Karnes is making his way down the aisle, Frank. With him is his manager John Reynolds.
The crowd is threatening to raise the roof of the stadium. There are quite a few denizens of the Southwest
here, Frank, and it is certainly fortunate that this time all spectators were thoroughly searched for weapons
before being permitted to come into the arena tonight.”
     “The fighters are being given their instructions at center ring, Howard. Karnes weighs 196½ pounds
and Dorgan tipped the scales at 190¼. Rather small compared to the heavyweights of today. Still these
fighters of the 1930’s were plenty tough. Neither of these men has ever been knocked out.”
     “And there’s the opening bell, Frank. The fight has begun. Dorgan rushes right into Karnes, who stops
him in his tracks with a left jab. Karnes is moving well, and countering Dorgan’s looping swings. Dorgan
lands a solid right to the midsection of Karnes. Karnes comes back with a tremendous left-right-left to the
head. Dorgan is down! He jumps up at the count of three. Listen to those sailors swear. Disgraceful
language! Dorgan wades back into Karnes. They’re trading toe-to-toe at center ring. Karnes staggers
Dorgan with a left hook to the jaw. Dorgan scores with a right to the body. Three straight left jabs redden
the features of Dorgan. Dorgan lowers his head and bulls Karnes into the ropes. They trade body blows at
short range. Karnes gets an overhand right to the head. Dorgan is hurt. And there’s the bell, ending an
exciting round.”
     “How do you score the first, Howard?”
     “I gave it to Karnes by a wide margin, Frank. But this Dorgan is tough. That combination to the head
would have killed any other fighter. There’s the bell for Round Two. Again Dorgan carries the fight to
Karnes. Dorgan is fighting out of a low crouch. Karnes shoots a jab to the top of Dorgan’s head, but the
blow bounces off. This Dorgan’s skull must be made of solid oak. Dorgan rams a right to the solar plexus of
Karnes. Dorgan just tripped over a bottle thrown into the ring by a spectator! His head rams full into
Karnes stomach. Karnes is down! John Reynolds is screaming ‘Foul!’ The referee doesn’t know what to
do. Karnes has risen to his feet, but he’s doubled over in pain. Dorgan shoves the referee out of the way
and he is all over Karnes. Reynolds is still yelling at the referee. Dorgan’s corner is yelling at Reynolds.
Karnes unleashes a devastating right uppercut that sends Dorgan sailing halfway across the ring! Dorgan
is flat on his back, Frank!”
     “The referee is starting to count over Dorgan, Howard. Wait! One of Dorgan’s seconds just three a
belaying pin at the referee and the referee is out cold. Dorgan is on his feet, and is throwing punches at
Karnes. Both fighters are smashing away at each other and the referee is still on the canvas.”
     “Look at this, Frank. Seconds from both corners have swarmed into the ring. Now the crowd is
charging past the security guards knocking them over like tenpins. The dog is loose! This is sheer
unadulterated chaos, ladies and gentlemen. A full scale riot is taking place in the ring. Karnes and Dorgan
are no longer visible; they are surrounded by battling cowboys, oilfield roughnecks, and gangsters. I’ve
never seen anything so disgraceful in my sportscasting career, Frank. This is an incredible exhibition of
carelessness, gaucherie, and abominably poor taste. Hooliganism of this sort has no place at a sporting
event, and should not be countenanced. And furthermore. . .”
     “Howard, there’s a man coming toward the press row. He’s a big, heavyset, black-haired fellow, about
six feet tall. He looks angry. Howard, he’s coming right at you. . .”
     CRUNCH!!!
     WHAM!!!
     “Ladies and gentlemen, a stranger from the audience has just knocked out Howard Moresell. Let’s see
if we can get a word with him. Sir. . . sir, could you come to the microphone for a moment? Yes, right here.
Could you tell us, sir, why you’ve just flattened Howard Moresell?”
     “Well, I just couldn’t listen to anymore of this dub’s loudmouth yammerings. What does he know of the
fury that drives men to fight like blood-mad tigers, charged with the abysmal fighting fury of the primitive?
What right does he have to insult these proud warriors, either of whom could crush his bones with a single
blow? I couldn’t take it any longer; I had to follow my desire. I sank my left so far into his soft belly that my
knuckles scraped his back ribs; then I smashed a right to the jaw that had him looking down his own spine.
This is a civilized country, I know, but a man is still a man!”
     “Thank you, sir. Here at ringside, things are still in a state of confusion. Half the crowd is in the ring,
slugging it out and enjoying themselves. The man I was just talking to has climbed into the ring to join the
melee. Howard Moresell is still lying there unconscious.   The police and National Guard have been
called in to break up what has turned into a gigantic brawl. Karnes and Dorgan have been forgotten in the
uproar. It is obvious no decision is going to be rendered in tonight’s bout. And so, for Wacky World of
Sports and the unconscious Howard Moresell, this is Frank Stifford from Cross Plains, Texas, concluding
this broadcast of the Robert E. Howard Heavy Weight Championship Tournament.”
     “Where am I, Frank”
     “Goodnight, Howard. . .”

Copyright 2003 Charles R. Saunders

REH: Two-Gun Raconteur
The Definitive Howard Journal