The objective of the rebels seemed to be attained a few minutes later, however, when the car of Armando Garcia Cifuentas skidded on an oily stretch and crashed into the crowd, leaving a toll of seven persons dead and thirty-seven injured. The race ended in confusion. That morning I was in the Nacional Hotel with Truman Gibson, Secretary of the International Boxing Club, which sponsored the boxing show held two days later, when the telephone rang and a voice asked: “Is that Nat Fleischer, _The Ring_ editor?” “Yes. Who is this please?” Instead of answering the voice continued: “You know what happened to Fangio?” “Yes,” I replied. “What about it?” “Well you also a big shot—you in boxing. You are helping Batista. Look out.” And with that statement, down went the receiver with a bang. I laughed and Truman asked me what was so funny. I repeated the conversation and added that someone is playing a prank. “Prank, hell,” he quickly answered. “Watch your step. That guy means business. You’ve had a big part in arranging the details for the show here. I think you’ll find it safer in the Casino than in this lobby.” I paid little attention to the threat, assuming, then, that it all was a joke. Now I’m not so sure. Nothing did happen. I attended the opening of the sports arena, where, instead of the full house expected, less than 10,000 were present. Many were secret service men, police from the security bureau, and men of the armed forces, since the government, like the folks who might have attended had the rebel scare not kept them away, had been warned that the building would be bombed. As each spectator entered the arena, he was searched for arms—not a very pleasant way to start an evening’s outing! As for the main event, which had World Champion Joey Brown pitted against Orlando Echevarria, champion of Cuba and Central America, it lasted less than a round. The Cuban was counted out in two minutes and five seconds. The rest of the program, which featured two Latin-American championships, was exceptionally fine and thrilling. [Illustration: 23] A DREAM COME TRUE As a youngster, I thought that traveling in the Orient was reserved for books and dreams—or Marco Polo. Yet as a grown man I found myself in the land of my dreams. I may say now that my childhood fancies did not measure up to the dazzling reality: the violent contrasts of fabulous wealth and unbelievable squalor; the customs so strange to me; the glorious color of temples and palaces; the beautifully exotic land itself. * * * * *