Story by MarcD (Originally posted by 10/15/2000)

My Boxing

Like I said, boxing was in my blood. My old man was "Battle Jack" West, and he showed me how to defend myself. Other than a few schoolyard scuffles I didn't need to use my dukes until I quit school.

We were dirt poor and needed extra money at home. I wasn't a crybaby, so I started working the local saloon as a bar maid when I was sixteen. I may have been a kid, but I looked pretty mature, if you know what I mean. Maybe too much because the head girl, Maude, started messing with me. She kept bumping me and saying I did it deliberately. The usual girlie shit. She wouldn't let me alone.

Finally, I had enough and challenged her to settle it with our fists. The bar owner overheard us along with the rest of the bar crowd and always seeing a moneymaking opportunity, suggested we take it to the backroom. The bastard then proceeded to sell tickets at two bits a pop. To get us motivated, he told Maude and me that he'd split the earnings; he'd take half and the winner got the rest. Fine, we said, although we'd done it for free.

About the fight, although Maude had been tending bars for a long time and knew how to use her fists, she wasn't my daddy's girl. It was an old-fashioned bare-knuckle brawl right down to making scratch after each knockdown. It was a great fight, and even made it into the Police Gazette, with a woodcut drawing of me punching the stuffing out of Maude! I beat her bad, and she never bothered me again. But I soon left. I had met Vic McLaglen.

Vic had been a prizefighter, and even fought Jack Johnson for the title (he lost in six). Vic saw the fight I had with Maude and took a real shine to me. Maybe it was because of the shiner I had from the fight. Vic started training me to become a boxer. I loved how the gloves felt when he laced them on; I love the smell of the leather. Vic was a real man, like my pop, with a man's body. I loved clinching against him when we sparred and when we were in the sack together.

Like I said, I hate dames, broads, hussies, floozies, bimbos, bitches and other women too repugnant to describe, like Clara Bow. Vic got me going on the female boxing circuit around New York and Philly, and managed and trained me, too. I don't remember the names of the other women I boxed; they were just something to knock out of the way. Except for my last fight, I never lost a match. All I can say about that fight was Bow was damn luck to have Gene Tunney working her corner. Pantywaist though he was, that college boy could motivate.

Like I said, I boxed a nameless stream of dames, broads, hussies, floozies, bimbos, bitches...and Clara Bow. But I did box one lady.

Her name was Eleanor Boardman.

Eleanor Boardman was a real lady. She hailed from a good Philadelphia family, but she took off to seek her fortune in New York. She was real pretty and soon was the original Eastman Kodak girl. She was also a real Gibson Girl, which meant that she liked to box other girls. Why she risked her good looks and her job by putting on the gloves, I'd never know. Maybe it was the same reason she took off. Maybe she liked the adventure and excitement.

She was a real society girl, and she boxed in classy settings. No smoky backrooms or dingy fight arenas for her; it was drawing room parlors in palatial estates on Newport Beach. No two-cent beer, but Champaign cocktails. No hoots, boos or cat-calls, but polite applause. But she did have a pretty good rep, being unbeaten like me.

I wanted to fight her bad, and Vic put out feelers. I figured she was protected but to my surprise, her handler said that she's be delighted to box me. I was suspicious, so I started to up the ante.

Six oz. gloves and unlimited rounds to a knockout? Wonderful, she said

Winner take all purse? Loved to, she replied.

An advance for training and outfitting? Done, she crowed.

I wanted to see if we could box topless or even in the buff. I had no problem with that; and I suspected Boardman didn't either. Vic convinced me that we were pressing our luck, but I did insist that we wear the briefest outfit the law allowed. I said that we'd fight in tight panty-like shorts and bodices without a corset. She replied that she always boxed that way, which floored me. I hoped that would be the only time she did that to me!

The fight was set for the Ides of March 1922, that's March 15th for us without a classical education. I trained so hard and completely abstained from smoking, booze, and sex, which impressed and frustrated poor Vic!

The fight itself took place at a certain Newport, Rhode Island, estate. I have never seen such an immaculate fight setting. The ring was brand new! The dressing room was perfect. The crowd was pure Fifth Avenue, Westchester County, Newport old money; the men wore tuxes and the women wore evening gowns. So well perfumed... God, I wanted to beat Boardman to a pulp so bad! I soon got my chance.

It was a complete fight card, filled with society girls playing pittypat with their gloves, then the main event was on. Vic and I stepped into the ring, and Boardman and her handler were already there. She was six inches taller than me, but much more delicate. She was well-toned and I must admit, very sexy in her light blue outfit. I wore my usual black outfit, which emphasized my hourglass figure to advantage. At least Vic said so!

We got final instructions, the bell rang, and out we went to center ring. Vic's fight plan for me was simple and direct - go in low, crouching like Jim Jeffries did; bull Boardman into the ropes while making her punch downward into my back; and whale away at her slender body with short power punches. For three rounds, Boardman collected a fine set of rope burns as I went into her like a regular freight train. Every time the ref separated us, back I'd go into her. She was stronger than she looked and had a crisp jab, but soon my body work began weakening her and she started to wilt.

At the start of round four, I had Boardman into the ropes and really worked her hard. I then eased off and still crouching, backpedaled into the center of the ring. I wanted to get her to come out and start trading leather to see what she had left. We went toe-to-toe, and I could feel that her punches lacked any sting. I had her, and got out of my crouch and started fighting her straight up. It took three more rounds, but I finally trapped her in a neutral corner, and the ref wised up and called the fight. Boardman was out on her feet while I strutted before those swells with my fists held high!

Poor Eleanor, she no longer was picture perfect! She had two shiners, a swollen lip, and a bloody nose. She surprised me by coming over to my corner, hugging and kissing me, and asking if I would be gracious enough to give her a rematch. She was a real lady, and I said I'd love to box her again. Vic and I left and with my earnings from the fight, I was able to start my stage career.

Eleanor recovered and hung up the gloves when Hollywood came calling. Her future husband, director King Vidor, had arranged for Robert E. McIntyre at the Goldwyn studios to hire her. By the time I arrived in Hollywood, Eleanor had retired from the screen.

She and I ran in different crowds in Hollywood but one day, when King was on location, Eleanor invited me over to box. I had hung 'em up, but I had promised her a rematch, so I drove over that morning. A room had been cleared, and a ring was set up when I got there. Except for our maids who worked our corners, only Barbara Stanwyck was there to referee. Babs liked the fight game, both inside and outside the ring. It would be a fight to a knockout win. We stepped into the ring wearing only our six oz. gloves and trunks, two middle-aged women who shared a common interest and an adventurous nature.

Who won? Let's say just that even Mae West has her secrets...