Famous Negroes of the Ring

Some Great Coloured Prize-Fighters Who Have Made Pugilistic History

JIM TULLY

PUGILISM was practiced in Roman amphitheatres before Christ. Gladiators used the caestus on the hands. The caestus was made of several pieces of rawhide strongly bound in circular form, and tied to the hand and part of the forearm. An iron covering was shaped so the fingers could grip it tightly. It was somewhat similar to the brass knuckles of the present day. Battles with the caestus were usually to the death.

The sport became obsolete until James Figg was recognized as the first champion of England in 1719. Figg established the first school of boxing. A man of intelligence, he was aware of the methods of fighting with the caestus. He died in 1734.

He was succeeded by Jack Broughton, often called "the father of boxing in England". Broughton should share this honour with Figg. He won the heavyweight title in 1 732 and held it eighteen years. He became a pet of English society. One duke wagered ten thousand pounds on him in an important battle. Broughton lost, and the Duke never forgave him. Broughton introduced boxing gloves for sparring exhibitions as early as 1743. He died a wealthy man. Daniel Mendoza, the great Spanish-Jewish heavyweight, was one of his pall-bearers.

Boxing gloves were not used universally until after the advent of John L. Sullivan, who began his career in 1878 at Boston, and ended it in 1892 before Corbett at New Orleans. Sullivan beat Paddy Ryan in a bare knuckle fight in 1882. He fought Charlie Mitchell, the Englishman, a thirty-nine round draw with bare knuckles. He also fought and won over Jake K i 1 rain with bare knuckles in seventy-five rounds for a ten thousand dollar side bet. These contests were under London Prize Ring Rules.

Until the appearance of Daniel Mendoza the prize ring was dominated by English and Irish bruisers. Mendoza was born in 1764. Seldom weighing over a hundred and sixty pounds, he fought the greatest men of his day. He was the Bob Fitzsimmons of the period.

Bill Richmond, a negro known as "The Black Terror", was born in America a year before Mendoza. He was taken to England by General Earl Perch in 1 777, and was quite successful there until he traded blows with one of the mightiest of English bruisers, the redoubtable Tom Cribb. Cribb beat him after one hour and thirty minutes of terrific fighting. Richmond never again fought Cribb, but won every other fight he had in England. In 1813 when he was fifty-three years old, he beat Tom Shelton in twenty-three rounds. At fifty-six years of age he whipped another well known pugilist in three rounds.

Tom Molineaux, a black slave, born in Georgetown, D. C. in 1784, was the best known ol the early negro pugilists. He went to England in 1809, and whipped every man he faced in that country until he met Tom Cribb, who beat him in thirty-three rounds. This was in 1810, five years after Cribb had beaten Rich mond.

Molineaux fought Cribb again a year later. The Englishman defeated him in eleven rounds at Thistleton after a savage contest in which the negro's jaw was broken. Twenty thousand people saw the fight.

Tom Cribb was indeed a terror to blacks. He was champion of England from 180 5 to 1811, and one of the most tremendous bruisers of all time. Molineaux never recovered from the beating given him by Cribb and died at the early age of thirty-eight.

Bob Travers, born in 1831, was the first coloured lightweight pugilist of prominence. Travers, outweighed seventy pounds, fought the great Gypsy heavyweight, Jem Mace, fifty-seven rounds. He lost on a foul.

Andy Bowen, a coloured lightweight of New Orleans has the distinction of having fought the longest contest on record,—one hundred and ten rounds; seven hours and nineteen minutes. 'This was fought with Jack Burke in New Orleans in 1893. It became so dark they could not continue, and the referee, ironically enough, called the fight off as "no contest". Bowen fought Jack Everhardt eighty-five rounds; five hours and thirty-eight minutes.

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The Ion" contests prior to l 872, and some thereafter, were fought under London Prize Ring Rules, or similar rules. Under these regulations, a round terminated when a man went down. He was given thirty seconds in which to rise. A bruiser with his hand or knee on the floor or ground was considered down. Under such conditions fifty rounds could be fought in as many minutes—or it might require five hours. There were many loop holes in these rules . . . for instance, Rule Thirteen reads:

It shall be a fair "stand-up fight" and if either man shall willfully throw himself down without receiving a blow, whether blows shall have been previously exchanged or not, he shall be deemed to have lost the battle, but this rule shall not apply to a man who in close slips down from the grasp of his opponent to avoid punishment, or from obvious accident or weakness.

In other words, if the going became too rough a bruiser could "slip down". There were other wide liberties afforded.

John Jackson, considered "the first gentleman" of the ring, and a close friend of Lord Byron's, once grabbed Daniel Mendoza's hair and held his head backward while he pummeled him. Bruisers have since worn their hair short.

The Marquis of Queensbury Rules were devised in 18 72 by the Marquis of that name and Arthur Chambers, a celebrated English pugilist. They still govern boxing the world over. Under these rules each round is of three minutes duration, and the rest between rounds is one minute. A timekeeper might lengthen or shorten a round if heavily interested. This has been done. But on the whole, the rules are well observed . . . and quite humane.

Coloured men have always been well represented in pugilism during the past hundred years. Some of the more prominent are Rufe Turner, Bobby Dobbs, Jack Blackburn, Joe Jeannette, Sam McVey, Joe Walcott, George Godfrey, who lost to Peter Jackson, George Dixon, one of the greatest of featherweights, Sam Langford, whom many thought the equal of Jack Johnson, and "Battling" Siki, who defeated Georges Carpentier. Harry Wills was, until just recently, a dangerous heavyweight contender, while Tiger Flowers only lost the Middleweight Championship of the World a few months ago when, on a rather questionable decision, Mickey Walker won it from him.

Joe Gans fought "Battling" Nelson forty-two rounds in Goldfield, and won from him on a foul.

Gans, even then in the grip of tuberculosis, from which he later died, was harassed by Billy Nolan, Nelson's, manager, all during the day of the fight. He was forced to weigh in three times. Nolan took every mean advantage possible, well knowing he had the great American prejudice against Negroes behind him.

The men were to weigh l 3 3 pounds, the lightweight limit, for the contest. Gans was under the limit, while, it is claimed, Nelson weighed much more.

While Nelson was on the scales Gans asked Nolan what he weighed. "Go on, beat it back to your dressing room", Nolan said to Nelson. Gans did not learn the weight of the man he was fighting. Many pounds among heavyweights may not decide a contest. Among, the lighter men one pound, and often less, is of vast importance.

The last time Gans stood on the scales he is reported to have said to Nolan plaintively, "I wish, Misteh Nolan, you were a coloured man."

The mighty negro went into the ring a fading black shadow of a man, and lashed Nelson for forty-two rounds. Nelson had worn down every man who faced him in a long contest. There were three more rounds to go, when he hit the negro below the belt and lost on a foul in the forty-second round.

Gans speedily declined after this fight.

This superb lightweight hail brains, poise, and the soul of a dreamer. I have never seen a sadder pair of eyes than his. They looked as if the agony of his race had centered there. Gans was an inveterate gambler with dice. Earning thousands a year, he was always broke.

Gans was often accused of being a "crooked fighter". His superiority was so marked that the exigencies of circumstance perhaps made him "carry" pugilists of mediocre ability.

However, his fight with "Terrible Terry" McGovern at Chicago in l 900 did such an injury to professional pugilism in Illinois that it took years to revive it. Gans was supposed to have been knocked out in two rounds by McGovern. No one believed Gans had really lost. It was not in the cards for McGovern to whip him. The Irish tornado could never catch up with the streak of yellow lightning. But as Gans said to me years later—"One does what he do, don't he?"

There was a world of meaning in his words. His cheeks were hollow then, and'his eyes were larger and sadder than ever. He coughed quite often. In three months he had joined the black bruisers of old.

Jack Johnson was of a different type. He lacked the humility and spirituality of Gans. He was a mastodon of mastery . . . and he knew it. He resented white superiority under his famous golden smile.

Once when arrested for speeding in Chicago a crowd gathered around him. He smiled to the officer and said, "Not so fas', brotheh white man, not so fas'. Give dese white folk a chance to see Jack Johnson."

I visited his camp when he trained for Jim Flynn at Las Vegas, New Mexico in 1912. He was the rollicking negro living with his sad-faced white wife.

The wife seldom appeared without a shamed expression. Johnson, the primitive, was proud. The centuries had taught them differently. Mrs. Johnson died a suicide. It apparently made no impression on her husband. His capacity for affection was still that of a levee negro.

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But he had the courage of a primate. He came down the aisle at Reno on July 4, 1910, with the tread of a black panther. He had chased Tommy Burns half way round the world, and had whipped him decisively in Australia. He was now facing James J. Jeffries, the retired champion of the white race.

There are those who claim that Johnson sent Jeffries word two days before the contest that the fight was to be "on the square".

There were strained expressions on the faces of Jeffries' handlers. The burden of the white race was heavy on Jeffries' shoulders as he climbed into the ring.

A tense moment followed as they faced each other for photographs. Telegraph instruments clicked. The contest was billed as "The Battle of the Century". It was the farce of the ages.

Jeffries was like a man walking in his sleep. It looked as though the stolid giant had been catapulted into a maelstrom of people and knew not his whereabouts. He was not to learn for some time.

John L. Sullivan, Stanley Ketchell, Tom Sharkey and Jack London sat close together at the ringside. Ketchell and London smiled knowingly at each other as the gong rang. James J. Corbett, always high strung, was now tense, the lines drawn tight around his strong mouth.

Did he know something that few others knew: Why did Stanley Ketchell and Jack London smile at each other: Shrewd men they were, knowing all the roads of the lower world.

The gong rang and the heavy, hairy body of Jeffries moved slowly. There was nothing evident in the first round but the black's superiority. In the second round the white man ran into an overhand right. His knees sagged. His eye puffed and bled. He floundered about the ring and went into a clinch. Johnson looked over Jeffries' shoulder at the worried looking Corbett. "How you like dat one, Misteh Cohbett: " Jeffries' chief second frowned.

The comedy ended by a knockout in the fifteenth round. Johnson won. Jeffries received * 10 1,000.00. The gate was *270,775.00. Tex Rickard was the promoter and referee.

Johnson lost the championship in twenty-six rounds to Jess Willard, at Havana, Cuba, five years later. It. was said, that, being unable to defend the crown in America, he sold it to the highest bidder for a certain sum. A . white kerchief was to be waved to Johnson by his wife when the alleged sum was collected and in her keeping. According to rumour, Johnson was forced to fight twenty-six rounds before the sum was collected.

Johnson ranks with Peter Jackson among the greatest heavyweights that ever lived. He was possibly the world's greatest defensive pugilist.

James J. Corbett, who had the courage to face Peter Jackson when the blustering John L. Sullivan was wiselv the first to draw the "colour line", has this to sav of the majestic Black:

"As for Jackson, (never champion, since Sullivan wouldn't give him a chance, but great he was—perhaps the very greatest), he had range, height, reach, sufficient weight, and the most beautiful of builds. He could box with the cleverest or slug toe-to-toe with the heaviest hitter as he chose j and he was equipped with the keenest knowledge." Corbett was only able to obtain a draw with Peter Jackson in sixty-one rounds. A year or so later Corbett knocked Sullivan out in twenty-one rounds at New Orleans. This would indicate the merits of Sullivan and Jackson. The balance swings in the negro's favour when it is learned that but a month before the contest he had severely sprained his ankle. This proved a handicap before a fast man like Corbett who was also much younger.

Jackson was the least cruel of fighters. On one occasion when boxing Frank Slavin before the National Sporting Club in London, he had his adversary helpless. It is an axiom in the prize ring that "a big man is always dangerous". But Jackson looked appealingly toward the referee who said, "Fight on". Forced to strike Slavin, he "pulled" his punches, hitting him as lightly as he could.

When Slavin went down Jackson helped carry him to his corner. He did the same thing against Patsy Cardiff, over whose head John L. Sullivan had once broken a hand. Although James J. Corbett, Jackson's nearest rival, sat at the ringside and cheered Cardiff's efforts, Jackson showed a humane streak and was merciful when Cardiff staggered about the ring. He stood still and looked at the referee for an order to halt. That gentleman paid no attention, and Jackson was forced to fight on until Cardiff sank.

After Jackson's fight with Cardiff every effort imaginable was made to drag Sullivan into the ring with him. The Irishman refused to meet him.

Eugene Corri, famous referee of the National Sporting Club, declares Peter Jackson to have been the greatest boxer he has ever seen. Jackson died in Australia at about forty.

A young pugilist once said to him in San Francisco, "'S ou black fellows don't like to be hit in the stomach. Why is that:" And Jackson's answer was, "Can you tell me of any white man who likes to be hit there either:"

Some pugilists claim that "all niggers are yellow", in spite of the fact that ring history proves them to be the bravest of men. But, of course, pugilists are no more concerned with history than historical novelists.

Many negro pugilists die young. Molineaux, Peter Jackson, Joe Cans, George Dixon and Young Peter Jackson all died under forty. They generally die of lung trouble, penniless.

With the exception of the dreamer, Joe Cans "the old master" of Baltimore, I have never known a negro pugilist to worry.

Primitive, yet unemotional over the shifts of fortune, the psychology of their race was expressed by Jack Johnson in his corner after the Willard fight—"Now mebbe de'll let me alone."

These words from the greatest monev-loving showman of them all.