It is a matter of conjecture how far the attitude of the doughboy
is due to the training he got in the army, but the fact remains
that boxing and wrestling have been recognized and practised by
our army officers as valuable adjuncts to military training. Uncle
Sam encouraged the science of fisticuffs on shipboard and in the
training camps, under a committee headed by no other than the famous
ex-champion, James J. Corbett, because the positions and motions used
in boxing are almost the same as those used in bayonet practice. The
development of gameness in the recruit is another important benefit
derived from the sport.
One of the anecdotes that came out of the trenches has for its hero
a short but stocky Yank who, in an encounter with a huge Prussian,
dropped his rifle and went for his foe with his fists. He knocked the
fight out of the surprised German and brought him in a prisoner. An
officer who had watched his exploit thought it proper to caution him as
to the danger that lay in this departure from the rules of attack.
“Danger!” spoke up the Yank, “there isn’t a Fritz alive that I can’t
lick with just my fists!”
Theodore Roosevelt, had he realized his desire to serve with the colors
during the world conflict, would undoubtedly have been an enthusiastic
spectator at such of the army’s ring battles as were within reach of
him. Indeed, had he been still occupant of the White House it would
not have been surprising to have heard of his inviting champions from
the various cantonments to test their skill under the White House
roof. Mr. Roosevelt was first drawn to two naval chaplains, Fathers
Chidwick and Rainey, through his discovery that each of them had
bought sets of boxing gloves and encouraged their crews in boxing.
While he was President fencing or boxing were Mr. Roosevelt’s favorite
indoor exercises. He was also intensely interested in jiu-jitsu, the
“muscleless art.” To perfect himself in this exercise he employed one
of the best of the Japanese instructors, and took a course of twenty
lessons.
After learning the various grips, the President would practise them
upon his teacher. He soon mastered the science, and his enthusiasm over
it led him to introduce jiu-jitsu instruction at Annapolis and West
Point.
When Mr. Roosevelt entered upon his public career heavy burdens were
laid upon him, and to keep in condition to meet the hard physical and
mental strain he again turned to boxing and wrestling for exercise.
When Governor of New York the champion middleweight wrestler of
America came several evenings a week to wrestle with him. The news of
the purchase of a wrestling mat for the Governor’s mansion at Albany
created consternation on the part of the Controller, but was greeted
with great enthusiasm by the red-blooded men to whom the Governor had
become an idol. Many of these would have paid a great price to have
been able to stand at the edge of the mat and cheer their champion
in his strenuous amusement. To the middleweight champion the job was
a hard one. Not because he experienced any difficulty in downing the
Governor, but because he was so awed by the Governor’s position and
responsibilities that he was always in dire anxiety lest the Governor
should break an arm or crack a rib. This gingerly attitude of his
opponent exasperated Roosevelt. He didn’t feel that it was fair for him
to be straining like a tiger to get a half-Nelson hold on the champion
while the latter seemed to feel that he must play the nurse to him.
After repeated urgings he managed to get the champion to throw him
about in real earnest--then he was satisfied.
Colonel Roosevelt relates in his reminiscences that, while he was
in the Legislature, he had as a sparring partner a second-rate
prizefighter who used to come to his rooms every morning and put on the
gloves for a half hour. One morning he failed to arrive, but a few days
later there came a letter from him. It developed that he was then in
jail; that boxing had been simply an avocation with him, and that his
principal business was that of a burglar.
Roosevelt was fond of boxing with “Mike” Donovan, trainer at the New
York Athletic Club, as well as with William Muldoon, the wrestler and
trainer. His opponents testify that the Colonel was handicapped by
his poor sight. He wanted to see his adversary’s eyes--to catch the
gleam that comes before a blow. Roosevelt always maneuvered to see his
opponent’s face, and he liked to “mix in” when boxing.
Hard and heavy was the Colonel’s method, and his opponents forced the
colonel to adapt his plan of fighting to theirs. It did not matter to
Roosevelt. It was the striving, not the result, that interested him.
An illustration of Roosevelt’s fondness for the Japanese art of
wrestling is found in this extract from the diary of John Hay,
Secretary of State:
“April 26--At the Cabinet meeting this morning the President talked of
his Japanese wrestler, who is giving him lessons in jiu-jitsu. He says
the muscles of his throat are so powerfully developed by training that
it is impossible for any ordinary man to strangle him. If the President
succeeds once in a while in getting the better of him he says, ‘Good!
Lovely!’”
Lieutenant Fortescue, a distant relative of the Roosevelt family,
sometimes put on the gloves with the Colonel. One day, feeling in
fighting trim, Fortescue asked the Colonel to box with him. Finally the
Colonel agreed to go four rounds. According to Joseph Grant, detective
sergeant of the Washington Police Department, detailed to the White
House to “guard” the President, it was the fastest bout he ever saw.
“The Colonel began to knock Lieutenant Fortescue right and left in
the second round,” said the detective. “His right and left got to the
army officer’s jaw time after time, and the bout was stopped in the
third round to prevent the army man from getting knocked out. Then the
Colonel turned to me and said: ‘I think I can do the same to you. Put
on the gloves!’
“I drew them on reluctantly, and I put up the fight of my life. The
best I could do was to prevent a decision and get a draw.”
It was a sporting rule of the Colonel’s not only to give as good a blow
as he could, but also to take without squirming the hardest blow his
opponent could deliver. The wrestler who hesitated to stand him on his
head because he was Governor of New York exasperated him; nor would he
have permitted a man to spar with him who held back his blows.
Nothing illustrates this rule better than an episode which the
Colonel himself made public. In October, 1917, in the course of an
interview with newspaper men, he told this story in explanation of his
relinquishing the gloves:
“When I was President I used to box with one of my aids, a young
captain in the artillery. One day he cross-countered me and broke a
blood vessel in my left eye. I don’t know whether this is known, but I
never have been able to see out of that eye since. I thought, as only
one good eye was left me, I would not box any longer.”
This story was too promising for the newspaper men to let drop without
endeavoring to have it amplified by the soldier who delivered the blow.
A few days later, in “The New York Times,” appeared this interview
with Colonel Dan T. Moore, of the 310th Field Artillery Regiment, 79th
Division, National Army:
“Colonel Dan T. Moore, of the 310th Field Artillery Regiment, 79th
Division, National Army, admits he struck the blow that destroyed the
sight of Colonel Roosevelt’s eye.
“‘I am sorry I struck the blow. I’m sorry the Colonel told about it,
and I’m sorry my identity has been so quickly uncovered. I give you my
word I never knew I had blinded the Colonel in one eye until I read his
statement in the paper. I instantly knew, however, that I was the man
referred to, because there was no other answering the description he
gave who could have done it. I shall write the Colonel a letter in a
few days, expressing my regrets at the serious results of the blow.
“‘I was a military aid at the White House in 1905. The boxers in the
White House gym were the President, Kermit Roosevelt and myself. The
President went further afield for his opponents in other sports, but
when he wanted to don the boxing gloves he chose Kermit or myself.’
“‘Tell about the blow that blinded the President.’
“‘I might as well try to tell about the shell that killed any
particular soldier in this war. When you put on gloves with President
Roosevelt it was a case of fight all the way, and no man in the ring
with him had a chance to keep track of particular blows. A good fast
referee might have known, but nobody else. The Colonel wanted plenty
of action, and he usually got it. He had no use for a quitter or one
who gave ground, and nobody but a man willing to fight all the time and
all the way had a chance with him. That’s my only excuse for the fact
that I seriously injured him. There was no chance to be careful of the
blows. He simply wouldn’t have stood for it.’”
Roosevelt to his last days remained keenly interested in ring
champions. He numbered among his prizefighting friends John L.
Sullivan, Bob Fitzsimmons, Battling Nelson and many another man whose
fame was won by strength and skill in the ring. Among his treasures is
the pen-holder Bob Fitzsimmons made for him out of a horse-shoe, and
the gold-mounted rabbit’s foot which John L. Sullivan gave to him for a
talisman when he went on his African trip.
He championed the cause of prizefighters on many occasions, though
never hesitating to denounce the crookedness that has attended the
commercializing of the ring. He held that powerful, vigorous men of
strong animal development must have some way in which their spirits can
find vent. His acts while Police Commissioner of New York show clearly
how he distinguished between the art of boxing itself and the men
who are trying to make money out of it. On one hand, he promoted the
establishment of boxing clubs in bad neighborhoods in order to draw the
attention of street gangs from knifing and gun-fighting. On the other
hand, finding that the prize ring had become hopelessly debased and run
for the benefit of low hangers-on, who permitted brutality in order to
make money out of it, he aided, as Governor, in the passage of a bill
putting a stop to professional boxing for money.