Friday, March 13, 2009

About *THAT* Fight

Hiya, BITERS. Guess what? Frank really does knows his stuff (but, memory does this to all of us post-fifty); thus, despite what you may read or glean from others both verbally or otherwise, the following comes from the source's mouth.

Huh? Now, as the Brits I so love (except one who's terminally unlovable and loves it that way) say, What's I on about? K. Well, actually, I think Roger K. Miller had never heard of that famous bout where F. Scott laid Ernie out. Frank averred it happened and Morley Callaghan had written about the great event in a column he'd read by him.

Welp, here's the scoop (and, how did I get it? I asked Michael Callaghan, son of one of our greatest writers, Barry Callaghan, son of another of our greatest writers, the afore-sanctioned Morley. BTW, Michael, although not the son of a gun of a shining sun of a writer, certainly ranks up there with our greatest painters; and, for those who wish to ogle his work, feel free to do so accordingly (if you can still afford to travel to Mexico, that is).

(Gabriela and he just celebrated the birth of their heartbreakingly cute first-born, K. Congratulations to the over-the-moon Callaghan cloon.)


But, back to the inside-track fact in Michael's own words (which he authorises me to communicate to you in the name of peace, order, and universal harmony):

The recollection is in That Summer in Paris, where Morley recounts many an adventure and times had with friends, publishers, writers, artists, etc. If I recall, Fitzgerald was the referee and, Morley, after a bit of "friendly sparring" (and being a good boxer) popped Ernest on the chin and put him down . . . to which Ernest was none-too-pleased and it, in fact, soured their relationship after.

So Hemingway did get TKO'ed; AND, Scottie did see the entire great event; but, Morley laid on the lickin' . . .

And, that M'Dear Deeply Missed BITE Buddies constitutes, in that forever-living passive-aggressive cliff-hanging phrase immortalised by one your greatest radioticians, Paul Harvey (R.I.P.), is the rest of the story.

In this corner, we have Roger (who knows his stuff); and, in this corner we have Frank (who knows his stuff); but, in the interest of truth and duty, it behooves yours truly to set the record straight and say, Guys, you were both right about the players; but, the punchline came from our claim to Canadian fame :).

See, I can be passive-aggressive, too; but, I wouldn't recommend it around me; I might lay you out by bopping you on the draggin' chin-waggin', too.

How the hell are all of you? As faboo as you know who, I hope. Maxine, NJ Frank, Susan B., Art, Roger, Edward, FaveDave, Nannetizen, Bill, RKM, and M'Dear Sweet LoveLee, I've missed you more than words can sway. Hope all'swell with all whatever the time of night or day.

3 comments:

  1. Welcome back, Judith!

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  2. Hey, they finally defrost ye. Good on you.

    Now that's the story I remember. Scottie was the timekeeper for the fight, not the participant. What ticked Ernest off was that Scott was distracted or drunk or inattentive and didn't ring the bell on time. If he had, Ernest wouldn't have gotten popped. And Ernest was a very very unforgiving fellow.

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  3. Oh, I'm still here. I saw your hi-reply, Maxine, and it made me grin from thumb to thumb. You've been busy, I see. Great. How's the job-seeker doin'? (Never mind :)). I hear there's a book about checkout girls about to be translated from the French that we should all read to see if you're suitable material since, remember, you wanted to be a professional shopper, at one point, before you joined my agency, hehehehe . . .)

    (Hokey-dokey. If you promise not to glare, I promise not to ever again go there. Mini-Gee, eh? No girrafes on unicycles beyond this point.)

    Y'know, Bill, not only was Ernie incapable of forgiveness in this situation, he was dealing with Morley whom I did have the pleasure of meeting. Morley would not have made the first move, either; he was as intransigent as Ernest. Sad, really. (Yet, I gotta wonder whether FSF didn't ring the bell accidentally on purpose since, as we know, he, too, was quite the spar-partner when it came to stepping into the ring.)

    No matter. Of that trio? I'd pick FSF's work over that of the other two. Sacre bleu! Well, The Great Gatsby really ranks among my top five novels of all time (even if FSF did have a perception problem; and no, it's getting late so, I shan't eblabborate).
    p.s. I have been up-checking on you and your amazing stories, y'know? I'm allowed to go that far without fear of frying :)

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