for sensations. We gave the readers all sorts of dots and dashes—little
spicy items of divorces, separations, escapades, and crime. You know,
the kind of personal bits they couldn’t get elsewhere. That made an
instantaneous hit and our circulation doubled. Then we decided to give
them any news that wouldn’t be printed in the daily papers and featured
stories of hold-ups, stabbings, murders, debauchery, wild west fights,
Indian uprisings, floods, and the like, and what a hit we made!
“_The Gazette_, under my management with Richard K. Fox, the owner,
became internationally known and the craze for the sheet in England was
as great as it was in America. We decided to go after more circulation
and at my suggestion, we opened a page for the barbers and the
bartenders, and by running the pictures of favorites, the paper sold like
hot cakes. Everybody wanted a copy. We were the oldest illustrated paper
in America and _The Gazette_, as we ran it, was the forerunner of our
modern tabloids.”
A splendid reporter and editor, Lumley was also a manager. In addition to
Sullivan, he handled Nonpareil Jack Dempsey and Jack McAuliffe. Unlike
the manager of today, he never got a cent out of such management. It was
the honor the managers went after in those days, and, as Lumley said to
me:
“I didn’t make a sou out of them. It wasn’t the custom in those days to
take money from a fighter. However, I made up a medallion of the three
Jacks—McAuliffe, Sullivan, and Dempsey—and I sold these all over the
country and made plenty. In my opinion, they were three of the greatest
fighters, barring no one, America has ever seen.”
* * * * *
England, like America, had many excellent boxing writers of the old
school, the most prominent being Hugh Bradley, Harry Cleveland, Trevor
Wignall, Ben Bennison, Fred Dartnell, James Butler, Norman Hurst, and a
wonderful sports cartoonist, Tom Webster.
They represent the gallant old guard who wrote many thrilling and
interesting tales. Their stories, many of which are in my possession,
I can read over and over again and never tire. We covered many
international affairs together.
* * * * *
No sporting writer in his day was more popular in the Middle West than
Harry Weldon, who for many years was the active and genial Sports Editor
of the Cincinnati _Enquirer_. He was an all-round sporting man whose
forte was boxing and baseball. He had a wide reputation for honesty, and
his opinion settled bets throughout the nation.
George Touhey of Boston was another writer of note, and one who
contributed a mass of data on the history of American boxing, in addition
to being a prominent promoter and manager. Then there was Joe McGinn,
grand old man of the Associated Press and first president of the Old
Sports Writers Association of New York.
I recall going to a private fight with McGinn and Jim Bagley, who was a
master of slang before George Ade ever was heard of. In the latter years
of his life, Joe was a teetotaler, but at the time I speak of, he would,
upon occasion, indulge in the cup that cheers.
It was a cold, wet, rainy night. We had to walk more than a mile through
mud and wet fields before we found the roadhouse where the bouts were
held. The cold rain and the mud offered a fitting excuse for a nip or two
along the way—an excuse for several, in fact—and Joe became more than a
little drunk. He knew it and feared the reception he would get from the
boss.
“Never mind, Joe,” hiccoughed Jim, “I’ll square you with the boss. I’ll
write a heartbreaking story about this trip through the rain and mud and
how all of us braved pneumonia and had to liquor up to save our lives.”
Bagley wrote the story, giving a moving account of the privations endured
by the correspondents. He told, as only Bagley could tell, of the march
through the mud and rain and how the writers wandered for miles in the
darkness in a vain search for the roadhouse where the fight took place.
“All of a sudden,” wrote Bagley, “out of the rain and the wet and the mud
and the stark, black darkness of the night, loomed a building. It was all
lit up like Joe McGinn.”
That is the way Jim Bagley squared Joe McGinn, if squaring with reverse
English can be considered help.
* * * * *
The great boxing matches in the huge stadiums of the present day are
marked by perfect order and decorum. They are wonderful things, but
once in a while some of us can’t help longing for the days when the
boxing game was sowing its wild oats. We sigh for the lost romance and
adventure. Say what you want, you fellows, those were the days! Those
were the good old days!
A new school of boxing writer has developed in recent years, one that
mixed the new with the old and thus continued to give some sense of the
romance of the old prize ring days. There were writers who, like myself,
had passed through the transition period and could appreciate the glamor
and the thrills of those old times.
Leaders of this school were Damon Runyon, Hype Igoe, “Doc” Almy,
veteran of the Boston _Post_, Westbrook Pegler of the Chicago _Tribune_
Syndicate; Paul Gallico of the _Daily News_, Sid Mercer of the New York
_Journal_, and Harry Smith, the dean of the California critics, who
died the day of the Ezzard Charles-Joey Maxim fight in San Francisco in
January 1952, at the age of seventy-six. He had been at every big fight
since 1890, and was one of my dearest friends.
These men stood out not merely as sports specialists but as all-round
reporters. In many cases, outstanding sports writers during my early
years as a journalist were recruited to cover major news events on
the “outside,” such as lurid murder trials, kidnapings, Presidential
campaigns, and the like.
Other notable journalists with whom I frequently worked on assignments
include Jersey Jones, now of _The Ring_ staff, who covered boxing for
the New York _Globe_; Dan Parker, Sports Editor of the New York _Daily
Mirror_; James P. Dawson of _The Times_; Frank Graham and Bill Corum of
the New York _Journal American_; Red Smith and Jesse Abramson of the
New York _Herald Tribune_; Daniel M. Daniel, Joe Williams, and Lester
Bromberg of the New York _World-Telegram_; Barney Nagler of the _Morning
Telegraph_; Jim Jennings of the New York _Daily Mirror_; Arthur Daley
and Joe Nichols of the New York _Times_; Bob Considine, star columnist
of the Hearst organizations; Ted Smits, Jack Hand, and Murray Rose
of the Associated Press; Jack Cuddy and Oscar Fraley of the _United
Press_; Harry Grayson of the NEA service, and Al Buck and Jimmy Cannon
of the New York _Post_. Also Harry Markson of the _Bronx Home News_
and Murray Goodman of the New York _American_, both now members of the
International Boxing Club staff; Hugh Bradley and Murray Robinson of the
_Journal-American_, Murray Lewin of the _Daily Mirror_ and Gene Ward
and Jimmy Powers of the New York _Daily News_. They all contributed to
journalistic history as sports writers.
Others were Warren Brown, Johnny Carmichael, Gene Kessler, Charley
Dunkley, and Arch Ward in Chicago; Ed Wray, Bill McGoogan, Roy Stockton,
and Sid Keener in St. Louis; Harry Salsinger, Bob Murphy, Lyall Smith,
and Leo McDonell in Detroit; and Bill Cunningham, Dave Egan, and Harry
Hirschfield in Boston.
Friendly hands stretched across the continent through the years: Jack
Laing of Buffalo; Bill Lee of the Hartford _Courant_; Whitey Lewis of the
Cleveland _Press_; Ed Bang of the Cleveland _News_; Max Kase of the New
York _Journal-American_; George Barton, veteran writer of the Minneapolis
_Tribune_; Elmer Ferguson of the Montreal _Herald_; Harry Keck of the
Pittsburgh _Sun-Telegraph_; Bill Keefe of the New Orleans _Item_; and
Roger Pippin of the Baltimore _Sun_.
Also, Al Abrams of the Pittsburgh _Post-Gazette_; Royal Brougham of the
Seattle _Post-Intelligencer_; Jack Kofoed of the Miami _Herald_, whom I
started on the big-time circuit in New York; Dink Carroll of the Montreal
_Gazette_; George Davis of the San Francisco _Express_; Jack Fried of the
Philadelphia _Bulletin_; and Sec Taylor of the Des Moines _Register_.
Others who shared countless ringside thrills with me were Hy Goldberg
and Ed Friel of the Newark _News_; Tony Merenghi of the Newark _Star
Ledger_; L. H. Gregory of the Portland _Oregonian_; Curley Grieve of the
San Francisco _Examiner_; Ray Grody of the Milwaukee _Sentinel_; Eddie
Muller of the San Francisco _Examiner_; Shirley Povich of the Washington
_Post_; Willie Ratner of the Newark _Evening News_; Wilfred Smith of
the Chicago _Tribune_; Frank Mastro of the Chicago _Tribune_; and Pat
Robinson of the _International News Service_.
There are many, many others. In England, where I am as much at home as
in my own country, I frequently reported international boxing matches
and other events with Frank Butler, Tom Phillips, George Whiting, Peter
Wilson, Maurice Smith, Harold Mayes, Lanson Wood, John Macadam, Ralph
Hadley, Desmond Hackett, Reg Gutteridge, Joe Bromely, L. N. Bailey,
Gerald Walter and Bill Mann.
The Fourth Estate’s sports writers constitute a grand crew, doing a
tremendous job in a vital department of American and British journalism.
They are the men whose dynamic prose has brought pleasure to sports fans
the world over.
[Illustration: 27]
A SUMMING UP
On June 6, 1958, I completed my thirtieth round trip to Europe. During
my five-weeks’ tour of the continent I appeared on a number of radio and
television programs, and, as has been the case on other such occasions,
I was asked to compare ranked fighters of this era with the stars of
the past. Queries pertaining to the respective punching powers of Jack
Dempsey, Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano; the cleverness of Ray Robinson;
the cause of boxing’s decline; television’s effect on pugilism; the
International Boxing Club’s difficulties with the government, and the
investigations into boxing in various parts of the United States, seemed
to be of particular interest to my interviewers.
Watching the passing sports parade during my many years as a journalist,
I have been most impressed by the changes that have taken place in
boxing, changes which I enumerated in my overseas talks. There have been
changes in style, and the brutality that predominated in pre-commission
days has been eliminated. Boxing has spread throughout the world and
there is no doubt that it enjoys a greater following today than ever
before in its history.
However, in most major sports the champions of today are as good, and
in sports such as track and field, far superior, to those who ruled the
roost when I covered sports as a cub reporter. This is definitely not so
in boxing. All one need do is to watch some of the televised bouts that
are dished out as main events to realize that fighting talent has gone
into an amazing decline. It is difficult to grow ecstatic over what one
observes nowadays as compared with the really first class matches of the
past.
There is at present a general lack of knowledge of the finer points of
the game which can be attributed to the training and management of young
fighters by incompetents. Prior to World War II the difficulty in ranking
fighters lay in selecting ten from an outstanding field of possibly
fifteen or more prominent performers. Today’s headache comes from trying
to find a sufficient number of worthies in any division after the first
three or four have been listed.
The factors that make a great fighter, or even a good one, are the
ability to deliver a crushing blow, the ability to stand up against
punishment, and the ability to avoid punishment through ring cleverness.
Cleverness can be developed through gymnasium workouts, but it requires
far more than that to acquire the toughness and fighting spirit of the
old timers, who, in most cases, were men who had followed a difficult
manual trade before taking up pugilism as a livelihood.
The trades that developed our greatest fighters were those which had to
do with swinging a hammer, mining, or hauling heavy loads. Take a glance
over the list of all-time greats in _The Ring Record Book_. There’s Bob
Fitzsimmons, one of the few men who could bring down an opponent with a
single shot. He developed his tremendous power and stamina by pounding
out horse shoes on an anvil.
Jack Dempsey, the Nonpareil, a top middleweight, was a cooper by trade,
as was the famed Jack McAuliffe, who retired as undefeated lightweight
king. Both developed their punching muscles by pounding the hoops on
barrels, which in their day were made by hand.
Jim Jeffries, the man whom Tex Rickard called the toughest of all the
heavyweights, was a boilermaker by trade. The electric hammer had not
been invented when he started working and the rivets were driven in by
hand.
Jack Johnson, whom I consider the best all-around man among the
heavyweights, past and present, gained his strength and endurance as
a stevedore lifting heavy bales of cotton on a Galveston wharf. Harry
Wills, almost as sound physically today as he was in his prime, is
another who developed on the docks of the South.
Jack Dempsey, the Manassa Mauler, whose powerfully built shoulders and
iron fists brought him into the million-dollar class of fighting men,
started out in the Colorado mines. Even the great John L. Sullivan,
a heavy drinker and a tough one to handle in training, did a lot of
laborious work before he became a professional prize fighter. And though
Jim Corbett never wielded a hammer, he spent hour upon hour, even as a
bank clerk, in outdoor exercise.
One cannot gain ring fame by the easy pink tea route or the playboy road.
Many fighters learn this lesson at the price of a heavy shellacking,
which more than likely kills their ambition altogether. But the fact that
so many of the fine performers of yesterday were blacksmiths, lumbermen,
stevedores, teamsters and piano movers is testimony to the fact that it’s
the boys who have to battle their way to the top who make the grade.
The fighters themselves can’t be blamed for everything. Much of the
responsibility for present day mediocrity lies in poor coaching. Men like
Billy Delaney, Parson Davies, Doc Robb, Tom O’Rourke and Young Otto,
among dozens of others of the old school, knew the game thoroughly. Many
of today’s trainers know less about boxing than the lads they are trying
to instruct. Doc Robb taught Benny Leonard to box when Benny was a kid,
and even when Leonard was champion he looked to Robb to advise him on the
finer points.
Years ago, pugilism was an art and good instructors were in abundance.
They were the “professors” who taught their charges proper stance before
any other aspect of boxing was discussed. Watching today’s lads in
gymnasiums both here and abroad, or in ring battles, one can see how
little most present day boxers have been taught. For every top coach or
trainer today there are a dozen or more poor ones who have no business in
the ring looking after a fighter. Among the few who rate high in my book
as teachers today are Whitey Bimstein, Jimmy August, Angelo Dundee, Bill
Gore, Freddie Brown, Dan and Nick Florio, Izzy Kline, George Chemaris,
Johnny Sullo, Chickie Ferrera, Charley Goldman and Doc Moore.
* * * * *
The art of boxing was at its height long before padded gloves took the
place of bare fists. The oldest of sports, it began before the Christian
era dawned. Boxing matches were fought with the cruel metal-studded
cestus, one of which, discovered in the old ruins of Pompeii by me in
1922, now rests in _The Ring_ Museum in Madison Square Garden.
The cestus was abandoned as civilization advanced. Bare fist fighting
became a leading sport in Great Britain during the eighteenth century,
and from there it spread to America. It was only slightly less dangerous
than the old Roman way of boxing and those who practiced it just had
to learn how to protect themselves. Since necessity is the mother of
invention, the bare knuckle warriors discovered much that continued to
be useful after gloves were introduced. Unfortunately, much of this has
been forgotten with the passage of years as fighters became less cautious
of their weapons and correct hitting began to give way to wild swinging.
In the bare knuckle days, a straight left was the foundation of ring
strategy. It was not a tap to be ignored, such as one frequently sees
today, but a punishing blow that often produced a knock-down. Feinting,
which was best exemplified among gloved fighters by Jack Johnson, is for
the most part a lost art today, as is punching with the full weight of
the body behind the blow.
This is not to say that all the really good fighters were of prehistoric
vintage, for there have been some notable examples of distinction
in recent times. There is no doubt that Joe Louis and Ray Robinson
would have stood out in any era, and Rocky Marciano was as strong and
courageous as any man who ever stepped into the roped square. But the
deterioration of fighters in general is strikingly obvious when I
consider the overwhelming preponderance of old-timers in my ranking
of top ringmen from the first Marquis of Queensberry heavyweight
championship bout between Sullivan and Corbett in 1892 to the present.
Leading my list of fighters whose best performances were given in the
last sixty-six years is my favorite heavyweight, Jack Johnson. I rate
James J. Jeffries second, and close on his heels are Bob Fitzsimmons,
Jack Dempsey, James J. Corbett, Joe Louis, Sam Langford and Gene Tunney,
in that order.
Tunney was not a colorful battler, but he was a cool, mechanical operator
who mastered the technical ends of the game and definitely has been a
much underrated fighter. He proved in his two bouts with Dempsey that he
was far superior to the rest of the heavyweight fighters during the years
that Jack held sway.
Dempsey came at a time when boxing was badly in need of a man of his
stamp. Jess Willard had lifted the crown from Johnson, thus ending the
era of the “white hopes,” but somehow boxing fans could not get it into
their heads that Willard had won the world’s title squarely. His was an
empty triumph that thrilled nobody.
Along came the Mauler from Manassa. Along came Tex Rickard. This
wonderful combination of fighter and promoter revived the sport and
resuscitated its finances, and the old guard suddenly discovered that the
“good old days” had come again. Boxing was lifted into the million-dollar
class. And Dempsey did it. He did it with his dynamic right, his bobbing
and weaving style, his popularity with the public, and his ability to
produce electric shocks. Those qualities make him the fourth greatest
fighter of the modern era in my book.
As for the recently retired, undefeated heavyweight champion, Rocky
Marciano, he was a great hitter, but I’d rate Max Schmeling, of Germany,
above him in the number nine spot.
In the light-heavyweight class, I give the wily Kid McCoy, the corkscrew
artist, top rating, with clever Philadelphia Jack O’Brien next in line,
and Jack Dillon, the “Hoosier Bearcat,” in third place.
Stanley Ketchel, the “Michigan Assassin,” Tommy Ryan, and Harry Greb,
“The Pittsburgh Whirlwind,” occupy the top positions, respectively, among
the middleweights, with Mickey Walker, the “Toy Bulldog,” and “Sugar” Ray
Robinson following in that order.
The great Joe Walcott, the “Barbados Demon,” who fought in four classes
with considerable success, is my choice as the leading welterweight,
while the mighty Joe Gans and Benny Leonard lead the lightweights. Each
was a ring marvel. There was very little difference between the pair in
cleverness and general ability.
Terry McGovern, clever Jem Driscoll, and Abe Attell, are the leading
figures in the featherweight class, which includes such wonderful boxers
who made ring history in this division as Johnny Dundee, Johnny Kilbane,
Kid Chocolate, Willie Pep, and Young Griffo.
The bantam division produced such memorable names as George Dixon
(“Little Chocolate”) Pete Herman, and Kid Williams.
Looking over the list of heavyweight champions from Sullivan to
Patterson, we find that the majority of the leaders were fighting men who
could hit. Who hit the hardest? That’s a matter of opinion.
Tommy Burns, Jack Johnson, and Jess Willard were harder hitters than
Corbett or Tunney, but of the trio, only Johnson possessed the cleverness
and speed that distinguished these two master boxers.
Johnson was a marvelous boxer with all-around ability, and I am not
the only boxing writer to rate him as the kingpin of the heavyweights.
However, as a powerful hitter he lacked the punishing effectiveness of
Jeffries, Fitzsimmons, Tom Sharkey, Dempsey, Louis, and Marciano.
Willard had a heavy wallop, as his fight with Bull Young, whom he killed
in the ring at Vernon, California, in 1915, certainly proved. But
that tragic misfortune made Big Jess extremely cautious in all of his
subsequent battles. In his fight with Dempsey, after being floored seven
times in the opening round, and battered about the ring until he was
virtually helpless, he jarred Jack with a right to the jaw in the third
round that almost floored him.
Coming down to Tunney, we find in him the cleverest of all heavyweights
from the time of Corbett. He was a master boxer, an excellent jabber, and
extremely fast. In him, Dempsey faced his cleverest opponent, a boxer
who, despite the much-discussed “long count,” whipped him decisively
both in Philadelphia and in Chicago. But Tunney’s inability to stop
Dempsey when he had him at his mercy in Philadelphia was fair proof of
his deficiencies as a puncher. He crashed his fists so frequently against
Jack’s face that one of Dempsey’s eyes was partially closed in each
contest, but Gene couldn’t finish his man. The big wallop which men like
Sullivan, Jeff, Fitz and Dempsey were able to deliver in their heyday,
was the missing ingredient in Tunney’s make-up.
As for Joe Louis, there is no need to go into details about his hitting.
He was on a par with Dempsey in that respect, but wasn’t as fast and
couldn’t take it on the chin as could Jack. Joe was an exceedingly slow
starter, yet one of the greatest in the division for setting up an
opponent for the “kill.” His record as a heavyweight is one of the best.
His successor as a hitter was Rocky Marciano. We cannot compare Rocky
with Louis or Dempsey, except as a puncher. One thing we do know—the
public loves a hard hitter, and in Rocky, the “Brockton Blockbuster,” it
had such a champion.
One fighter who should have become an all-time great but didn’t, was Max
Baer. The Californian had the size, the strength, the ruggedness, the
stamina, and as deadly a punch as the heavyweight class has known, but
Max was too much of a psychological problem. His clout did carry him to
the top of the heavyweight heap, but he didn’t remain there long. He was
too irresponsible and undependable.
Here is a detailed breakdown of my evaluation of the fighting abilities
of the heavyweights under discussion here:
Best Boxer James J. Corbett
Fastest James J. Corbett
Best All-Around Jack Johnson
Best Uppercut Jack Johnson
Best Defensive Jack Johnson
Best Counter Puncher Jack Johnson
Most Crafty Jack Johnson
Best at Feinting Jack Johnson
Best Left Hand Hitter James J. Jeffries
Best Knockout Puncher Bob Fitzsimmons
Best Hooker Bob Fitzsimmons
Most Damaging Body Puncher Bob Fitzsimmons
Best Heart Puncher Jack Dempsey
Best at Infighting Jack Dempsey
The Roughest Jack Dempsey
Best combination, right to heart and left to chin Jack Dempsey
Best Two-Hand Hitter Jack Dempsey
Smartest Boxer Gene Tunney
Best Jabber Gene Tunney
Best Conditioned Gene Tunney
Best Straight Right Joe Louis
Best Finisher Joe Louis
As for my all-time rankings in each division, they are as follows:
_Heavyweights_
1—Jack Johnson
2—James J. Jeffries
3—Bob Fitzsimmons
4—Jack Dempsey
5—James J. Corbett
6—Joe Louis
7—Sam Langford
8—Gene Tunney
9—Max Schmeling
10—Rocky Marciano
_Middleweights_
1—Stanley Ketchel
2—Tommy Ryan
3—Harry Greb
4—Mickey Walker
5—Ray Robinson
6—Frank Klaus
7—Billy Papke
8—Les Darcy
9—Mike Gibbons
10—Jeff Smith
_Light Heavyweights_
1—Kid McCoy
2—Philadelphia Jack O’Brien
3—Jack Dillon
4—Tommy Loughran
5—Jack Root
6—Battling Levinsky
7—Georges Carpentier
8—Tom Gibbons
9—Jack Delaney
10—Paul Berlenbach
_Welterweights_
1—Joe Walcott
2—Mysterious Billy Smith
3—Jack Britton
4—Ted Kid Lewis
5—Dixie Kid
6—Harry Lewis
7—Willie Lewis
8—Henry Armstrong
9—Barney Ross
10—Jimmy McLarnin
_Lightweights_
1—Joe Gans
2—Benny Leonard
3—Owen Moran
4—Freddy Welsh
5—Battling Nelson
6—George Kid Lavigne
7—Tony Canzoneri
8—Willie Ritchie
9—Lew Tendler
10—Charley White
_Bantamweights_