Word: turpin
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...Champion Sugar Ray Robinson had fought six fights in six weeks, gadded about Paris and made innumerable personal appearances (TIME, June ii et seq.). His wife Edna Mae was uneasy about him: "Sugar's tired. He's overtrained and overfought." Meanwhile, Britain's Middleweight Champion Randy Turpin, on the eve of the fight of his life, made a soberly restrained prediction: "I think I have a chance." Nevertheless, the odds were 3-1-on Sugar Ray when the men climbed into the ring at Earl's Court in London last week...
Ahead of him are more Runyon Fund tours, to Italy, Scandinavia, possibly Israel. And this week Sugar Ray is settling down to the serious business of getting ready for a title defense against British Empire (and European) Middleweight Champion Randy Turpin next month. Turpin, at 23, is a real challenge to the champion, a fighter with the power, if not the ring-wise skill of Robinson himself. In 50 fights, young Turpin has been beaten only once (by France's Jean Stock). Since he won his title last October, Turpin has knocked out seven opponents in a row, including...
...Robinson is already looking past Turpin to another title-the light heavyweight championship now held by Joey Maxim. Robinson says he will not fight Heavyweight Champion Ezzard Charles under any circumstances. But Maxim is something else again. Though Robinson is too politic to mention it, the light heavyweight crown is the only major world title not held by a Negro. Besides, says Good Businessman Ray Robinson, "it's a good money match...
With the wonderfully grave and cockeyed air that the late Ben Turpin might have put on to play Young Doctor Kildare, the Chicago Tribune offered the U.S. a cure for all its troubles. The prescription was described in an editorial last week entitled: "How Truman Might Be Replaced...
...Drake frowned and drummed his fingers, Mr. Cook began biting his thumbnail and leered in fury, Mr. Porter became homely and paternal, Williams gave a scheming look at her legs, the stage-struck Hodgkin took a comb out of his pocket and ran it through his waved hair. Turpin and Sawston, who were on opposite sides of the same, high, tilted desk, looked at each other fixedly. They looked as though they were trying to hypnotize each other. Taking small hard steps, her red lips pettishly drooping, her head in a cap of short black curls, her small breasts...