On April Fool's Day 1927, an extraordinary spectacle occurred at the palatial Pickfair estate of silent screen royal couple Douglas Fairbanks Sr. and Mary Pickford - a very public boxing match between the two female personalities of the Roaring Twenties, Clara Bow and Mae West.

How this very public match, and how the lid was kept on the underground female boxing scene of that era is the fascinating story of this event.

In the January 28, 1927, edition of the New York Daily Mirror, the item appeared in the here thereto-unheralded pen of columnist Walter Winchell:

Hello, American and the all the ships at sea! This is Walter Winchell reporting all the news. Flash! The boxing match of 1927 is set, between two hard-hitting daughters of Brooklyn - Mae West and Clara Bow! At stake is the Boxing Queen of Show Biz title belt in this classic clash between The Great White Way and Tinsel Town!

Mae challenged Clara "to come up and see me sometime" in the ring, and Clara retorted that Mae was gonna get "IT" all night long from the receiving end of her left jab.

Assuming both fighters go into strict training, with no booze, cigarettes or sex, this could be the ultimate match-up and a fight promoter's dream! The fight takes place on April Fool's Day at the Pickfair estate and will be broadcast over the radio.

Now to other news...

EDITOR'S NOTE: Mae West was responsible for this new item being planted, and the so-called Queen of the Show Biz title. As she relates in her unpublished account of the match below, Mae was trying to promote herself to the Hollywood, and she thought beating the "IT" Girl, Clara Bow, would be her ticket to Tinsel Town.

From the March 1927 issue of "Screen World Magazine" the following news item was a part-time stringer named Hedda Hopper:

This is Hedda Hopper, reporting from the Mae West training camp located in the Catskills of upstate New York.

Boxing is in Mae's blood. The daughter of pro fighter "Battling Jack" West, Mae knows her way around the ring, and loves it! Says she: "Look, dearie, if there's any thing better than "SEX" it's lacing on the gloves, stepping in the ring, and punchin' the daylights out of some hussy! There ain't no canvas made I'd ever lay on. Besides, I know plenty other places that give me more pleasure. Ohhh!"

Asking about his fighter's conditioning for the upcoming bout, her manager, W.C. Fields, reports: "Mae's clean, see, and she's stayin' that way. She wants Bow bad, and that good 'cause it means more booze left for me!"

I asked Jack Dempsey, Mae's trainer, about his fighter's plan in light of Clara's youth and reach advantage. The Manassa Mauler replies; "Mae's got muscle working for her. She gonna walk that broad Bow back from post to post. When it's all over, poor Clara is gonna have a first-class set of rope burns on her back and bruises on her front!"

I will be ringside at Pickfair this April 1st to give my impressions of this great fight. This is Hedda Hopper reporting...

The following Hearst New Syndicate item dated March 10, 1927 went out on the wire services:

This is Louella Parsons reporting from the Clara Bow training camp located at Malibu Beach.

Youth will be served, and for that Jabbing Jezebel of the Jazz Age, Clara Bow, the upcoming April Fools championship bout with Mae West is no laughing matter.

The "IT" Girl may hail from Brooklyn like her opponent, but this brunette bomber now calls sunny California her home. About the upcoming bout, Clara purrs, then hisses: "I can't wait! I love to fight so much! I love the smell of my leather boxing gloves! I don't care how good a fighter Mae West is. I got twelve years on her, and I'm fit and in fighting trim. She's old news, Louella, and when I'm done, she's gonna be dead news!"

I talked to Clara's manager, Gary Cooper, about the upcoming fight. Says he, "Clara's lookin' right good. All I can say is I reckon old Mae's gonna regret pickin' up them train tickets at Grand Central after my Clara's finished with her."

I talked to Gene Tunney, who is training Clara for her fight. Gene informs me that "Clara's a natural brawler, which is okay against starlets and ingénues. But with Mae, it's a whole new ballgame. She's got to be more scientific to win - stick and move, stay on her bicycle, use her jab, wear Mae down and when the time's ripe, move in for the kill. Like I said, Clara loves to brawl, but she loves winning more."

When I asked Gene about his prediction, he shrugged, "It's could be a replay of my fights with Jack Dempsey. If Clara sticks to the plan, it won't go the distance."

I will be at ringside to report on this new Battle of the Century. This is Louella Parsons...

EDITOR'S NOTE: The Parsons-Hopper animosity is of course legendary, but research indicates that it ran much deeper than professional rivalry. Both women had boxed on the underground circuit in their youth, and clashed in a number of bitterly fought matches, with Hedda the stylish boxer and Louella the shorter brawler. Of the three known bouts, Hedda out pointed Louella over six rounds; Louella knocked out Hedda in the fourth in the rematch; and the two fought to a bitterly contested draw over 12 rounds in the rubber match. Like Slapsie Maxie said the following radio broadcast transcript, styles make fights!

The following recorded CBS Radio transcript is all that remains of the radio broadcast of the Bow-West match:

LARDNER: Good evening, fight fans. This is Ring Lardner reporting ringside from the Pickfair estate in Hollywood, California, in this nationwide radio broadcast. Tonight's fight card features as its main event the much-ballyhooed championship fight for the Boxing Queen of Show Biz title. Tonight's big question is who will be the April Fool - Clara Bow or Mae West? There is much anticipation as the elite of Broadway and Hollywood gather for this clash of the thespian gloved goddesses. For expert analysis of tonight's fight, here's the future champ himself, our own beloved Slapsie Maxie Rosebloom.

ROSEBLOOM: Styles make fights, and these girls got plenty of style. Both like to brawl. Clara Bow's got youth and reach, but Mae West has heft and chutzpah. It's gonna be a great fight!

LARDNER: Thanks, Maxie. Now for the fashion report, we go to Edith Head.

HEAD: There's plenty of glitz and glitter both outside and inside the ring tonight. For the fighters themselves, it's a stark contrast of all sequin ensembles, Mae in black and Clara in white. And plenty of leather, too! Back to you, Ring!

LARDNER: Thank you, Edith. Both fighters are now in their corners loosening up. Let's go to the ring announcer, Mr. Wallace Beery.

BEERY: Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight's main event - fifteen rounds for the Boxing Queen of Show Biz championship title belt. (APPLAUSE) Refereeing this fight is the legendary Gentleman Jim Corbett! (APPLAUSE) Now, to the introductions! In the red corner, weighing in at 128 pounds ands wearing the black trunks, it's the Blonde Bomber from Brooklyn... Battlin' Mae West! (APPLAUSE & CHEERS). In the blue corner, weighing in at 121 pounds and wearing the white trunks, it's the original HIT Girl... Clara "Roughhouse Rosie" Bow!

(APPLAUSE & CHEERS).

Fighters, to center ring!

LARDNER: Both fighters and their entourage come together to receive final instructions from Referee Corbett. Uh-oh! Looks like a scuffle and both fighters are refusing to touch gloves. Looks like the bad blood is boiling over as both fighter return to their corners. Here's the bell (DING!) Both fighters come out...

EDITOR'S NOTE: The rest of the transcript is missing, and research in the microfilm archives of the major newspapers of the day reveal no contemporary printed accounts of the bout extant. We must, therefore, depend on the previously unpublished personal accounts of the two combatants, Clara Bow and Mae West.

The following is an except from the unpublished biography I was the IT Girl by Clara Bow.

CHAPTER 12 - BOXING MAE WEST

No chapter in my life am I more hesitant to write about than my boxing. In fact, I want to devote a separate chapter about it and why boxing saved my life. I was part of a secret sorority who loved to box each other privately or at by-invitation-only smokers around Hollywood. My boss at Paramount, Budd Schulberg, once said that I was a disgrace to the community, and I am sure he was referring to my secret boxing career. Yet, I made so many friends, male and female, combatant and spectator, to ever apologize to any one about my love of this sport.

But that is for another chapter. I am certain that the readers of this autobiography and my many fans are desperate to hear my account of the very public boxing match that I had with Mae West on April Fool's Day, 1927.

It began with Mae, and it ended with us meeting in the ring. Mae was always on the prowl for publicity. I understand that she did do some boxing for the underground circuit on the east coast. By all accounts, she was pretty good - no finesse, but a devastating body puncher. And her old man had boxed, although I do not know if he ever was any good. As Hedda Hopper said at the time, boxing was in her blood. She also had a mean streak, too.

And Mae was trying to break into the movies at that time. Since she craved notoriety like a cat to nip, she figured taking me, Hollywood's "IT" girl, on would be her ticket out of Vaudeville and Broadway. She secretly hired Jack Dempsey to train her and planted a news item in Walter Winchell's column. As a joke, she even "hire" W.C. Fields as her "manager." All very public and very self promoting on dear old Mae's part.

Winchell's column went national and if you'll forgive me, the shit hit the fan in Tinsel Town. My boss, Budd Schulberg, was livid and told me in no uncertain terms that, if it had been up to him, I would have been given my marching papers then and there. But the Paramount brass in New York thought it was good publicity, even if I was the one taking the hits. The boss said I had a paid leave of absence so I could devote myself to the fight, and off I went to Malibu to train with Gene Tunney.

I was in pretty good shape going into training. Since I started boxing, I had quit smoking, drank only socially and little at that, ate carefully, and except for my beloved Gary Cooper, I kept sex as a recreational diversion, not as an all-consuming obsession. But I wasn't prepared for Gene's scientific approach to boxing. For three months, he put me through sheer Hell, but by the time of the fight, I thought I could take on any male boxer in my weight class. I felt that good!

The fight took place at Pickfair, the palatial estate of Doug Fairbanks and Mary Pickford. It was here in 1925 that I attended my first female boxing smoker with Gary, and saw Mary get knocked out by Theda Bara while trying to reclaim her belt, much to Doug's chagrin. To keep a lid of the underground female boxing in Hollywood, Doug got Randolph Hearst to convince the other newspapers to treat the fight venue at Pickfair as a one-time sporting event.

It was in Hearst's interest to do so, since he loved female boxing himself and often held smokers at San Simeon. One of my least favorite memories of my boxing was the time I went into the tank and took a dive when I fought Marion Davies. She had good legs, being a former showgirl, but no punching power and a very porous defense. It is to Hearst's credit that he did not ask me to lie down for her, and it was to Marion's credit that she hung 'em up as far as boxing at the smokers. She out-pointed me that time, but every time we sparred in private I pasted her, and loved every moment doing it!

The fight itself was a stellar event, attended by big wigs from both coasts. The press was there, led by Louella Parson and Hedda Hoppe, two very b###hy ladies. Ring Lardner was working the radio with Maxie Rosebloom and Edith Head, who designed my white sequin boxing outfit for the fight. Wally Beery was the M.C., and Gentleman Jim Corbett agreed to referee the match.

Finally, after all of the ballyhoo, Mae and I were in the ring and raring to go. I don't know if she swore off cigarettes, booze or men while training, but she looked damned good. Her hourglass figure was trimmed of any excess fat and her black sequin boxing outfit showed it off to advantage. Corbett waves us to center ring for final instructions, and Gene and I joined Mae and Jack Dempsey there.

As Corbett spoke, I looked at Mae, and saw that I was almost four inches taller than her, although she was plainly the bigger woman. When Corbett asked if there were any questions, Mae's response was unexpected and crude:

"How's your f##kin' father, sweetie?"

I flew off the handle, and it took both Tunney and Corbett to pull me away while Mae and Dempsey returned to their corner. Back in our corner, Gene sat me down on my stool and told me to calm down and save it for the fight. I nodded, got up, and Gene put my mouthpiece in. The bell rang, and we were boxing.

I can't remember all of the details. That's true of any of my fights. A boxing match is a three minute long blur of sweat, blood, grunts, moans, and leather thrown or being received, broken by gasping rests in your corner while your team takes care of you or the calm aftermath of a knockout win.

But I do vividly remember that first round and the last, too. I realized immediately that Mae was slow, both on her feet and her hands. Not that if she connected it wouldn't hurt. We were wearing the agreed-to six oz. gloves, and I knew I had to ride my bicycle and let Mae punch herself out like Gene told me to do. I started to connect to her face, trying to work on her eyes, when she drew me into a tight clinch. She laid onto me and whisper something that haunts me to this day.

"Your daddy did this to me. Did he do it to you? Did he?"

She started fouling me, thrusting her thumb between my legs. Corbett pulled us apart, and I threw Gene's fight plan out the window and went after her! She was too fresh and strong then, and she soon had me trapped against the ropes where she pummeled me mercilessly. All the while she hissed through her mouthpiece:

"He liked doing it to me more than he like doing it to you!"

The bell rang, and I staggered back to my corner.

Gene was furious with me!. When I told him what Mae said, he told me that the best way to get back at her is to stick to the plan. "Winning is the best remedy for you, kid. And knocking her out is the best medicine for her!" Corbett came over and told us that he saw Mae had fouled me and asked if we wanted to do anything about it. Winking at Gene, I said let's box and see who the better woman was. Gene smiled and put my mouthpiece back in as the bell sounded for round two.

The next twelve rounds were a war! She was a tough nut to crack, even with Gene's plan and corner work. But I kept my jab stinging that broad face of hers, and eventually it swelled up moon-like, shuttling her eyes. I wasn't unscathed; she did hit hard, and she continued fouling me with her fists and mouth. But each round I was gaining confidence. I even took time to look around between rounds. I saw W.C. Fields was getting soused, and my poor Gary was biting his nails. He needn't worried. Gene wasn't when told me Mae was ripe for the plucking before the start of round fourteen.

We met at center ring and went toe-to-toe. Sweaty and bloody though we were, I was the stronger woman now. Mae was taking her medicine, and I loved giving it to her with every punch I sank into her!

I finished her with two short pegging punches to the gut that doubled her over, a right uppercut from the deck that straightened her up, and a left haymaker hook to put her away for keeps! I stood with my hand raised as I stared at her laid out at my feet. God, I felt so good! The championship belt didn't matter; beating her did!

Mae would come to Paramount five years later. Our careers diverged as everything in Hollywood eventually does, but I never stopped asking Mae West to "come up and see me sometime" in the boxing ring again. No crowds or hoopla, just the two of us..

She never did!

The following is an "unpublished chapter" from Goodness Had Nothing To Do With It by Mae West

IT and the girl

I suppose I have to talk about that fracas I had with that hussy Clara Bow. I admit that I was looking for a quick score to get to Hollywood and if it was over the body of that bimbo, so what? She had nothing - no style, no smarts, no nothing! Just a pout and legs willing to get spread.

I did some boxing on the Q.T. back then. Loved doing it, and Pop had boxed, so it was in the blood. Hated dames and I liked nothing better than lay 'em out with my fists.

I thought up that Boxing Queen of Show Biz malarkey. It was bogus, but who cared? It was publicity, pure ballyhoo. It got my name in the papers.

About the fight, I trained hard, damn hard. Jack Dempsey was a swell guy, God love him, but a taskmaster in training camp. Didn't have a single cigarette, drop of booze, or a good lay for over three months. It was torture. I should have gotten me madder at Bow. That bitch was making me respectable. But I did look damn good on the night of the fight.

There's been a lot of sob stories about what a hard life Bow had, like nobody else did growing up in Brooklyn. What a crybaby! She goes Hollywood, and forgets about her roots. What an ingrate!

Yes, I did some dirty stuff during the fight to mess her up. So what! This wasn't patty cake; this was boxing. The fight game was getting pretty sissy anyway, what with pantywaists like Tunney as champs. Real men like my pop and Dempsey knew how to fight, not dance around.

I might have lose the fight, but I won the war. I got to Hollywood any way, and Clara Bow got a one way ticket to the sticks.

CONCLUSIONS: The boxing match was a very public affair involving two very public persons of the age Clara Bow and Mae West. It is also clear that there was a very concerted efforts by the Powers That be to keep a lid on the underground female boxing scene of the times. Male boxing was barely in the pale legally at the time, and female boxing would not gain social acceptance of legal sanction for decades to come. By all accounts remaining, it was a very exciting match.

Dramatis Personae:

Clara Bow - The "IT" Girl found salvation from childhood memories and personal discipline in boxing which she finds liberating and sensually stimulating.

Mae West - Flaunting public conventions and mores in the boxing ring as she continues to do so on the stage, Mae also honors her father by putting on the gloves.

The Guys - W.C. Fields is star of stage and screen, master juggler and misanthrope, and considers May his little chickadee. Gary Cooper is Clara's main squeeze and boy toy. Jim Corbett, Jack Dempsey, and Gene Tunney are former heavyweight champs, with Dempsey and Tunney being contemporary ring rivals.

The Broadcast Crew - Ring Lardner. Sr., is the typically laconic sports reporter of the Chicago brand of journalism. Edith Head is an iconoclastic film customer designer. Slapsie Maxie Rosenbloom is a light heavyweight champ and film thespian.

The News Scribes: Walter Winchell was the infamous New York columnist. Louella Parson covered Hollywood gossip for the Hearst Press. Hedda Hopper was Louella's chief rival.

BONUS MATCH: Mae West vs. Eleanor Boardman (Underground Boxing Match) by MarcD

My Boxing

Like I said, boxing was in my blood. My old man was "Battle Jack" West, and he showed me how to defend myself. Other than a few schoolyard scuffles I didn't need to use my dukes until I quit school.

We were dirt poor and needed extra money at home. I wasn't a crybaby, so I started working the local saloon as a bar maid when I was sixteen. I may have been a kid, but I looked pretty mature, if you know what I mean. Maybe too much because the head girl, Maude, started messing with me. She kept bumping me and saying I did it deliberately. The usual girlie shit. She wouldn't let me alone.

Finally, I had enough and challenged her to settle it with our fists. The bar owner overheard us along with the rest of the bar crowd and always seeing a moneymaking opportunity, suggested we take it to the backroom. The bastard then proceeded to sell tickets at two bits a pop. To get us motivated, he told Maude and me that he'd split the earnings; he'd take half and the winner got the rest. Fine, we said, although we'd done it for free.

About the fight, although Maude had been tending bars for a long time and knew how to use her fists, she wasn't my daddy's girl. It was an old-fashioned bare-knuckle brawl right down to making scratch after each knockdown. It was a great fight, and even made it into the Police Gazette, with a woodcut drawing of me punching the stuffing out of Maude! I beat her bad, and she never bothered me again. But I soon left. I had met Vic McLaglen.

Vic had been a prizefighter, and even fought Jack Johnson for the title (he lost in six). Vic saw the fight I had with Maude and took a real shine to me. Maybe it was because of the shiner I had from the fight. Vic started training me to become a boxer. I loved how the gloves felt when he laced them on; I love the smell of the leather. Vic was a real man, like my pop, with a man's body. I loved clinching against him when we sparred and when we were in the sack together.

Like I said, I hate dames, broads, hussies, floozies, bimbos, bitches and other women too repugnant to describe, like Clara Bow. Vic got me going on the female boxing circuit around New York and Philly, and managed and trained me, too. I don't remember the names of the other women I boxed; they were just something to knock out of the way. Except for my last fight, I never lost a match. All I can say about that fight was Bow was damn luck to have Gene Tunney working her corner. Pantywaist though he was, that college boy could motivate.

Like I said, I boxed a nameless stream of dames, broads, hussies, floozies, bimbos, bitches...and Clara Bow. But I did box one lady.

Her name was Eleanor Boardman.

Eleanor Boardman was a real lady. She hailed from a good Philadelphia family, but she took off to seek her fortune in New York. She was real pretty and soon was the original Eastman Kodak girl. She was also a real Gibson Girl, which meant that she liked to box other girls. Why she risked her good looks and her job by putting on the gloves, I'd never know. Maybe it was the same reason she took off. Maybe she liked the adventure and excitement.

She was a real society girl, and she boxed in classy settings. No smoky backrooms or dingy fight arenas for her; it was drawing room parlors in palatial estates on Newport Beach. No two-cent beer, but Champaign cocktails. No hoots, boos or cat-calls, but polite applause. But she did have a pretty good rep, being unbeaten like me.

I wanted to fight her bad, and Vic put out feelers. I figured she was protected but to my surprise, her handler said that she's be delighted to box me. I was suspicious, so I started to up the ante.

Six oz. gloves and unlimited rounds to a knockout? Wonderful, she said

Winner take all purse? Loved to, she replied.

An advance for training and outfitting? Done, she crowed.

I wanted to see if we could box topless or even in the buff. I had no problem with that; and I suspected Boardman didn't either. Vic convinced me that we were pressing our luck, but I did insist that we wear the briefest outfit the law allowed. I said that we'd fight in tight panty-like shorts and bodices without a corset. She replied that she always boxed that way, which floored me. I hoped that would be the only time she did that to me!

The fight was set for the Ides of March 1922, that's March 15th for us without a classical education. I trained so hard and completely abstained from smoking, booze, and sex, which impressed and frustrated poor Vic!

The fight itself took place at a certain Newport, Rhode Island, estate. I have never seen such an immaculate fight setting. The ring was brand new! The dressing room was perfect. The crowd was pure Fifth Avenue, Westchester County, Newport old money; the men wore tuxes and the women wore evening gowns. So well perfumed... God, I wanted to beat Boardman to a pulp so bad! I soon got my chance.

It was a complete fight card, filled with society girls playing pittypat with their gloves, then the main event was on. Vic and I stepped into the ring, and Boardman and her handler were already there. She was six inches taller than me, but much more delicate. She was well-toned and I must admit, very sexy in her light blue outfit. I wore my usual black outfit, which emphasized my hourglass figure to advantage. At least Vic said so!

We got final instructions, the bell rang, and out we went to center ring. Vic's fight plan for me was simple and direct - go in low, crouching like Jim Jeffries did; bull Boardman into the ropes while making her punch downward into my back; and whale away at her slender body with short power punches. For three rounds, Boardman collected a fine set of rope burns as I went into her like a regular freight train. Every time the ref separated us, back I'd go into her. She was stronger than she looked and had a crisp jab, but soon my body work began weakening her and she started to wilt.

At the start of round four, I had Boardman into the ropes and really worked her hard. I then eased off and still crouching, backpedaled into the center of the ring. I wanted to get her to come out and start trading leather to see what she had left. We went toe-to-toe, and I could feel that her punches lacked any sting. I had her, and got out of my crouch and started fighting her straight up. It took three more rounds, but I finally trapped her in a neutral corner, and the ref wised up and called the fight. Boardman was out on her feet while I strutted before those swells with my fists held high!

Poor Eleanor, she no longer was picture perfect! She had two shiners, a swollen lip, and a bloody nose. She surprised me by coming over to my corner, hugging and kissing me, and asking if I would be gracious enough to give her a rematch. She was a real lady, and I said I'd love to box her again. Vic and I left and with my earnings from the fight, I was able to start my stage career.

Eleanor recovered and hung up the gloves when Hollywood came calling. Her future husband, director King Vidor, had arranged for Robert E. McIntyre at the Goldwyn studios to hire her. By the time I arrived in Hollywood, Eleanor had retired from the screen.

She and I ran in different crowds in Hollywood but one day, when King was on location, Eleanor invited me over to box. I had hung 'em up, but I had promised her a rematch, so I drove over that morning. A room had been cleared, and a ring was set up when I got there. Except for our maids who worked our corners, only Barbara Stanwyck was there to referee. Babs liked the fight game, both inside and outside the ring. It would be a fight to a knockout win. We stepped into the ring wearing only our six oz. gloves and trunks, two middle-aged women who shared a common interest and an adventurous nature.

Who won? Let's say just that even Mae West has her secrets...