The next day at the arena, I was placed in a small room during the preliminaries and was closely guarded by two armed soldiers. At a given signal, I was ushered to the ringside and entered the ring as Chavez and Archibald came down the aisles. Gendarmes and soldiers encircled the ring at four-foot intervals throughout the fight for my protection should the decision go contrary to the wishes of the two former Brooklyn thugs, who had apparently learned about sure-thing gambling during their stay in New York. For four rounds Archibald battered Chavez all over the ring. I had visions of what would happen after the fight and sweated it out, but there was nothing I could do about it, since I was determined to give an honest decision, come what might. Early in the fifth round, Chavez caught Archibald with a right to the jaw that staggered the American. He gave Archibald a sound beating throughout the round and that was the turning point of the fight. The high altitude had affected Joey to such an extent that he had shot his bolt in those first four sessions, and thereafter he was at the mercy of his opponent In the last two rounds, Archibald could scarcely raise his arms and when the final gong sounded, I quickly lifted the hand of Simon Chavez, the winner. The scene that followed was something to remember. Chairs were broken by partisan enthusiasts in the wild rush for the ringside. Hats were tossed into the air. Wild shouts, as only the Spanish can screech and shout, rent the air. And there I was, resting against the ring post, my uniform wet from perspiration, but happy in the knowledge that I had defied the gangsters who tried to have me fix that fight and that my presence had helped bring in a gate of $36,700, a record. Nine months later, the same promoter paid Jack Dempsey $5,000 and two round trip tickets for himself and Ned Brown, his publicity man, to come to Caracas to referee the fight between Chavez and Sixto Escobar, of Puerto Rico. It was expected that the presence of the great Manassa Mauler would add greatly to the figures grossed by Archibald and Chavez, with me as referee, but the fight was a complete flop. The gate reached only $18,432, and the promoter went in hock for plenty. They couldn’t understand what had happened, but the answer was simple. Dempsey reached Caracas a day before the fight, thus preventing the promoter from publicizing his presence, whereas I was on the job a week in advance, went on the air to help the show, appeared daily at the training camps, and even wrote stories which were translated into Spanish. * * * * *