Sport: Misfortunes of a Monster

(See front cover)

Perpetually hampered by the fragility of the normal human beings with whom circumstance compels him to associate, Primo Carnera, 269-lb. Venetian prizefighter, was last week inconvenienced more sadly than ever before. Scheduled for Oct. 1 was his fight against loud, 203-lb. Jack Sharkey of Boston, still the foremost U. S. contender for the heavyweight championship despite poor fights against Champion Max Schmeling and Middleweight Mickey Walker. Eight days before the fight, Sharkey inspected his left hand, discovered that his third and little fingers were slightly swollen at the knuckle. Convinced that such a hand was no fit instrument with which to assail the long lantern jaw of Primo Carnera, Sharkey called in four doctors to attest his injury, demanded a postponement. The postponement was first denied, then granted, to Oct. 12. To disappointed Monster Carnera, deprived of his first real chance to prove the much-ridiculed contention of his manager, Leon See, that Carnera is the greatest heavyweight fighter in history, a substitute for Sharkey was suggested: onetime (1927-29) Light-heavy weight Champion Tommy Loughran, whom Carnera outweighs by 80 Ib. Carnera declined to fight Loughran, said he would fight Sharkey or no one, roared words to the effect that Sharkey was afraid.

Since Carnera arrived in the U. S. almost two years ago (in an extra-large berth specially constructed for him on S.S. Olympic—TIME, Oct. 28, 1929) he has established himself as the most thoroughly publicized if not the ablest pugilist in history. By this time, everyone knows that he is 6 ft. 6½ in. tall; that his shoes are Size 20; that his walking stick on days when his managers expect him to be photographed, weighs 9 Ib.; that his neck is 20 in. around; that all other parts of his body, as is not usually the case with giants, are proportionately huge. For breakfast, when in training, Carnera eats two or three grapefruit, a dozen pieces of toast, two or three fish, a large steak, a bowl of fruit salad, several bowls of tea with cream. When not in training he drinks as many as three bottles of champagne at a sitting, eats twice as many grapefruit, breakfasts on cornflakes which he prefers to pulverize by wrapping them up in a bath-towel and pounding the towel on the floor. Friendly, sociable, he likes to frighten the patrons of cabarets with his ferocious grin. For dancing companions, he prefers smallish, plump girls to one of whom (Emelia Tersini) his engagement was rumored and denied during the last year.

Less widely known is the early history of Primo Carnera. Born in Sequal, near Venice, oldest son of a mosaic worker, he quickly outgrew an apprenticeship to his father, worked in a cement factory at Nantes where he applied for French citizenship. Discharged from the factory, he joined an itinerant carnival, improved his muscles by wrestling with third-rate professionals, yokels in French villages. When the carnival disbanded, Monster Carnera bloated to 285 Ib. He was observed by a French pugilist, Paul Journée, who made friends with Carnera, telegraphed his onetime manager, Leon See, about the discovery. Manager See inspected Carnera, decided he was "a generosity of nature," took him to Paris to teach him how to fight.