Inside Tennis

I

DARKNESS filled New York’s Madison Square Garden. Not a seat was vacant. A dark-haired, neatly attired young man stepped quietly to the front of the arena. A powerful spotlight flashed upon him. Over the public address system came the words, ‘Presenting the world’s amateur champion, Frederick J. Perry.’ The organ played ‘God Save the King.’ Everyone rose. Meanwhile a tall, gawky youngster slipped unobserved to a place about one hundred feet away. The spotlight shifted to him. Over the microphone came ‘Ellsworth Vines, professional champion of the world.’ ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ followed, and at its conclusion another professional tennis tour was on its way.

After taking one look around the Garden, I knew that this was going to be the most successful tour financially that had ever been made. There had been a lot of discussion previous to the match as to whether it was advisable to have a price schedule ranging from $1.65 to $9.90. Francis T. Hunter and his ‘52nd Street night club’ associates had held out for this price range, arguing — as it turned out quite correctly — that this would be the match of the century and people would be turned away regardless of what prices were charged. Never before in the history of tennis, either professional or amateur, had anyone dared to think of asking $9.90 for admission.

The total gate that night was $51,048, of which two thirds went to Tennis Enterprises, represented by Francis T. Hunter. Their share was approximately $34,000, of which Perry received $11,000 and Vines $3400. That left approximately $20,000 for the financial backers of the tour, which meant that they were practically ‘off the nut’ after one night of play. The tour went on to gross $300,000, of which Perry received approximately $70,000 and Vines approximately $23,000.

It may seem rather odd that Perry, the challenger, should receive three times as much as Vines, the champion — a situation that does not exist in any other sport. The reason was that the tennis public were anxious to find out how the best amateur would fare with the best professional. A match between Vines and the second-best professional would not have drawn five hundred people. For this reason the new professional always receives the major share of the profits.

As the match progressed I became curious as to what manner of people would pay $9.90 to see a tennis match, so I wandered over to that section of the Garden. About one out of each ten was watching the match itself. The other nine were either powdering their noses or looking around to see who was there and what they wore. To put it bluntly and frankly, professional tennis in Madison Square Garden has become the place to go in the winter time for the group of people who come in top hats and evening clothes. Of course, back in the less expensive seats ($4.00 to $7.00) the percentage of people actually interested in the tennis was considerably higher.

That evening Perry was in his element. He knew from looking at this crowd that the tour was going to be successful, and he liked the atmosphere, what with 18,000 people looking on, the linesmen and umpires in dinner coats, and, better yet, his playing a brand of tennis that Vines was unable to cope with. Practically every newspaper in New York had picked Vines as the winner, and, all in all, one Frederick J. Perry was having the time of his life. As I watched him gaze around the gallery between games I could not help grinning to myself, because I had been on two professional tours previously and I knew that after we left the big city conditions would be considerably different. There would be times when we should play to four hundred people. The lights would be bad, the umpiring worse, and if the tennis was not good the gallery would show no hesitancy about saying so. In other words, I knew that Perry was going to be rudely awakened when we ‘hit the sticks.’

At the conclusion of the singles match, Tilden and Barnes played Perry and me a doubles match. When Tilden came on to the court in a bright purple shirt the crowd stood up and roared. Despite the shirt, it was a real tribute to the grand old man of tennis. All during the doubles match Perry would try to show up Tilden, but with practically no success, as ‘Big Bill’ was having one of his good nights and, with the crowd cheering him on, was practically a doubles team in himself. This did not sit well with Perry, who likes the spotlight, and it was apparent that when Perry met Tilden in their first professional singles encounter there would be no quarter given on either side.

We were scheduled to go to Cleveland two days later, and again Perry beat Vines. As we were about to start the doubles match, Perry walked over to my side of the court and asked, ‘Don’t you think I played as good tennis as was ever played?’ This apparent ego of Perry’s practically floored me. My first inclination was to tell him that I thought Vines was way off his game that night, but in order to keep harmony in the troupe I told him that I thought he had played very well. This seemed to be satisfactory, so we started the doubles match in good spirits.

II

Ever since the opening night Vines had been complaining of a bad cold and had not been at all reticent about letting the press know; as a result the various reports of the first two matches had tended to minimize Perry’s victories, and when we reached Chicago the feeling between the two players was rather tense.

We drew the largest crowd ever drawn in Chicago, the gate totaling $17,000. The Chicago match was a nightmare. It was very apparent that Vines was a sick man and Perry ran through three sets 6-1, C-love, 6-love. At the conclusion of the match Vines was rushed to a hospital, where he stayed for four days under observation. I believe to this day that the people who witnessed that match should have had their money refunded immediately, because after two or three games it was obvious that Vines was not himself and in no condition to play top-flight tennis. However, it was entirely Vines’s own fault, as he assured the late Howard Voshell, our manager, that he was in perfect physical condition and able to play a five-set match.

I have no doubt that Vines really believed himself to be fit, but the fact remains that he was in no condition to play Perry. When this became obvious, as the match progressed, Voshell should have taken the matter in his own hands, canceled the match, and refunded the money. The Chicago papers the next day were very bitter in their criticism of both the tennis tour and the Chicago Stadium.

By this time Perry was very much upset. The Associated News Services had carried stories of Vines’s collapse and gave Perry very little credit for his three victories. After Vines’s recovery he won the next three matches, and it was interesting to note that Perry developed a cold and when the newspaper reporters interviewed him during that time he spoke in a whisper. Some ten days later, however, both players admitted they were in perfect physical condition and were going after each other hammer and tongs.

During the first seven or eight matches considerable ill feeling developed owing to a misunderstanding about ‘throwing points.’ Vines believed in accepting the decision of the linesmen regardless of how flagrant an error was made, while Perry was in favor of throwing points to equal any mistakes of the linesmen. After Perry had thrown two or three points to Vines, he would naturally expect Vines to do the same thing for him. But Vines, instead of throwing points, would go right on about his business and win the next point if possible.

During the tour the two players were never more than three matches apart, and the first question that newspaper reporters asked me would be, ‘Are the matches fixed?’ I suppose that newspaper reporters are naturally suspicious — especially those who have covered professional sports such as wrestling and boxing. My stock answer to this question was to offer the reporter his choice of the two players and bet him on the other. I had no more idea who was going to win than anyone else. In fact, in New York I was so certain that Vines was the better player I tried to get a fairly large wager, but could find no one who would back Perry at reasonable odds.

I am positive that no tennis match has ever been fixed on any tour I have ever had a part in. When Vines first turned professional he beat Tilden some twentyodd consecutive matches, and the following year he defeated Stoefen in the same way. So there is no reason to believe that either Vines or Perry would attempt to carry each other. The truth is that they were so evenly matched that it was just a question of who was on top of his game on any particular night. When one or the other would have a twoor three-match lead, there would be an unconscious letdown on the part of the one ahead, and as a result the other would be more apt to play his best game. The final result was thirty-three to thirty in favor of Vines, and I am positive that the utmost desire of each was to be the winner in this series.

III

Barnstorming professional tennis tours can only be likened to one-night vaudeville stands. At one phase of last year’s tour we played in Minneapolis on a Tuesday evening, caught a midnight train to Chicago, took an early train from Chicago to Cincinnati, and played there Wednesday evening, again catching a midnight train to St. Louis, getting off the train at 7 A.M., and riding another train all day to Memphis, where we played Thursday evening. It was then necessary to leave Memphis the next morning and ride all day to play in Nashville that same evening. There were certainly never four more tired young men than Vines, Perry, Barnes, and Lott at the conclusion of those four days.

A little later in the tour, Perry had one of the most strenuous itineraries I have ever known. He played Tilden in New York one Thursday evening, Vines in Chicago on Friday, Vines in Milwaukee on Saturday, and Tilden in Pittsburgh the very next night. So you can see that physical condition must play a large part in the winning and losing of the tour matches. By the time Perry reached Pittsburgh he was completely exhausted, and Tilden had little trouble winning. The match they had played in New York three days previous was won by Perry in a very convincing manner. In fact, the New York sports writers were all writing Tilden’s obituary.

In traveling around throughout the country we have a truck to carry our own tennis court. In each city that we visit, the court is put down on the floor wherever we play, so that we have a uniform surface at all times. The court is made of canvas and is stretched by pulleys at each end and on the sides. The surface is somewhat similar to grass courts.

Lighting facilities cause us our greatest worry. Of course, in places like New York, Chicago, and Boston, the big gardens all have an indirect-lighting system which provides perfect playing conditions, but in the smaller towns in the far West, when we play in small armories and high-school gymnasiums, a real problem is presented, and so far we have found no answer. After playing several matches under poor lighting conditions we become accustomed to it and accept it as part of the game.

During the first two years of my professional career, when Tilden was a member of the professional troupe, the poor lighting of the various arenas was his pet annoyance. The first thing he would do on arriving in a new city would be to go to the place of play, find the man in charge, and attempt to have proper lighting facilities installed. This usually turned out to be too expensive, and so as time went on we merely accepted the conditions as we found them.

Tilden was the most exacting of all tennis players as far as playing conditions were concerned. Two years ago we played in a large armory in Trenton, New Jersey. Our court was placed at one end of the floor, and at the far end was a hot-dog stand. All the lights in the arena were out except the lights over our court and one little light over the hot-dog stand, which was about one hundred and fifty yards away from the court. I was playing Tilden and we were having a close battle in the first set when all of a sudden Tilden dropped his racket and went running down to the hot-dog stand. Several of the officials and I followed along and got there just in time to hear Tilden say, ‘I will not continue with the tennis match until you put this light out.’ The little Italian beside the hot-dog stand replied, ‘What the hell do I care!’ The light was not extinguished, but the match went on.

On this very same tour we played in Billings, Montana. There had never been a professional match in Billings, and the local promoter was quite sure that it would draw a good crowd. He had guaranteed us $600. On the night of the match a blizzard, such as can only happen in Montana, came up, and the thermometer dropped to twenty below. Stoefen had been ill and unable to play that night, so Vines, Tilden, and I played round-robin singles. The local promoter, knowing nothing about tennis courts, had decided that it would be nice to put some talcum powder on the court. This was unknown to us until the time of play. Tilden lost both of his matches, and at the conclusion of our match he announced to the gallery of fifty-seven people and two stray cats that he had never played worse. I replied immediately that I had never seen him play better.

After giving me the icy stare, Tilden’s next move was to find the promoter and, after airing his views on Billings and the surrounding territory, attempt to collect the $600 guarantee. The gate having been only $87, the promoter stalled Tilden until the following day. The next day happened to be a holiday and no banks were open, so that the poor man had to go around from door to door borrowing ten or fifteen dollars from each of his friends. We finally received the $600. Such is a professional tennis match in the smaller towns.

Most of the time during a tour is naturally spent playing tennis and resting. There are, however, occasions when we have two or three days with no matches scheduled. Usually, with the exception of Tilden, we all play golf. I have noticed that practically all tennis players believe that with just a little practice they would become first-flight golfers. Ellsworth Vines once said to me that within ten years he would qualify for the National Open, and he really believed it. The day he does that I guaranteed to make a watch. Nevertheless, Vines recently shot a 69 to lead the qualifiers in a Pasadena Amateur Tourney.

Baseball games are another source of amusement. Last spring in Washington, D. C., Vines and I took Perry to see his first ball game. His immediate observation was that he did not see any box out where the pitcher was. I am not at all sure that Fred was n’t being a little facetious.

Vines and I, having played basketball in college, always go to a basketball game if it is possible. On the train we usually play hearts or bridge. But, all in all, we have very little time for anything other than tennis and rest.

IV

For the past three years the tennis public has been asking for an open tournament. In my opinion there will never be one. First of all, the United States Lawn Tennis Association will never sanction an open tournament, because the International Lawn Tennis Federation, of which it is a member, has refused to sanction any open tournaments whatsoever. The I.L.T.F. is composed of the tennis associations of all the different countries, and it is this association that really supervises the Davis Cup Contest each year. So if the U.S.L.T.A. were to hold a tournament without the approval of the I.L.T.F., it would be barred from Davis Cup play, which after all is the most important feature of American tennis at the present time.

Then again I do not believe that the two ranking professional players, Vines and Perry, really want an open tournament. In the first place, there is very little money to be made in an open tournament. If Vines or Perry was, for instance, to meet Budge or von Cramm in an open tournament this fall, it would mean that there would be no real live interest in a match between them on a professional tour the following winter. It is in the professional tours that the real money lies, and this is their primary interest.

At the present time neither Vines nor Perry will play in any tournament whatsoever. They reason that they are now acclaimed as the two greatest tennis players in the world and they have nothing to gain by engaging in anything except exhibition matches against each other. As long as this situation exists, there is practically no chance of professional tennis ever developing beyond what it now is — namely, a circus. So, ladies and gentlemen, next year be sure to come and see the circus when it comes to town.