Early in 1954, I received a cable from Brigadier General Pichai Kullavanijya inviting me to visit Bangkok as the guest of the Thailand government for a world bantamweight championship fight that had been arranged for May 2 between Jimmy Carruthers of Australia, the titleholder, and Chamrern Songkitrat, Orient champion, a young Thai sublieutenant of police. I accepted, and when I left for the scene of action, it was my first flying trip around the world. I have since taken several. The trip was an eventful one but it was Thailand, more than any other country I visited, that impressed me. Its beautiful temples; its barefooted priests with their yellow loose robes, an umbrella in one hand and a bag of food in the other; naked children roaming the roads; people of many races crowding the colorful market places; three-wheeled vehicles jamming the streets with their fares—they left an impression I shall never forget. Hong Kong with its mixed races, its crowded thoroughfares, its beautiful fragrant flower market, and its poverty; Tokyo with its pretty kimono-dressed women; Manila with its reminder of the atrocities that befell its inhabitants during the Japanese invasion; ancient Asia Minor cities with their historic biblical shrines; the ruins of Athens; Istanbul with its Byzantine architecture; beautiful Rome and Paris; busy London, colorful Stockholm, Copenhagen, Antwerp, and Amsterdam—they all hold the tourists’ interest, but not like Siam. I enjoyed my visit to each, but Bangkok left the greatest impression. Let me tell you about the stage setting for the two championship bouts I saw there. In a scene unparalleled in ring history, a scene that was reminiscent of the historic Dempsey-Tunney world heavyweight championship bout in Philadelphia, a gathering of 59,760 persons paid 5,000,700 ticals, $227,304.90 in American money, to see Carruthers retain his throne by a hairline margin and, following his victory, announce his retirement. Unlike championship bouts in other countries, this one was limited to twelve rounds. I arranged it so. Those who witnessed the Dempsey-Tunney contest in Philadelphia can imagine what we encountered in Bangkok by picturing a tropical storm that started three days before the fight, drenched the spectators who braved it, made a lake out of the ring, and flooded the muddy streets over which thousands trekked to the National Stadium.