In 1925, the year he fought for the World Light-Heavyweight Title (in September), he fought 19 fights - in that year alone...the year he turned 21 years old.
In the end he was another who was badly beaten by John Barleycorn.
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He came out of Buffalo's old First Ward, starting as a long rangy kid in the Broadway auditorium, to become one of the smoothest, most efficient fighting machines in the world. The first pair of green trunks he ever wore in the ring were made by his mother; the bathrobe slung carelessly over his broad young shoulders was borrowed. He fought him, first professional fight for $40. Yet in a few swift ears, Jimmy Slattery's murderous left had clouted him a straight path to Madison Square Garden, where he eventually became the light heavyweight champion of the world and a heavy weight title contender. In his hey-dey, he was like the hero of some ancient Irish fable-a ring wise, black haired Irish imp who carried man made lightening in his gloves.
He was only 20 years old when he fought his first fight in the big time. Hoarse-voiced thousands that night in 1924 watched this dancing will-o'-the-wisp out-box. out-guess and outfight the veteran Jack Delaney. Yet within that same year the same Madison Square Garden crowd watched, agonized, while Paul Berlenbach, a huge hunk of ex-wrestler, belted Buffalo's golden boy all around the ring. The referee stopped the fight in the eleventh round after Berlenbach had smashed Slats to the canvas three times.
Despite this beating, though, he lived to win the title five years later when on February 10, 1930, he won a 15-round decision over another Buffalo fighter, Lou Scozza, in the Broadway Auditorium. But those were five fast years that only served to grease the skids for Slattery's ride bloom hailed a cab on Eighth Avenue and rode it nearly four hundred miles to a training camp up in the Adirondacks.
The vanishing act was another of his pet tricks; he'd drop out of sight regardless of circumstances. His manager, Red Carr, once lined up a big fight for Slats only to find that Slats was nowhere around. For five days he was gone. Police at Elkhart, Ind wired to Buffalo that he had been arrested for vagrancy. Another time-in New York-Slats told Carr he was going out to buy a hat. He was gone for half a week before he came back without the hat.
Once Slattery turned up missing in Venice. His companions were getting ready to have the canals dragged when they found him at 4 a. m., floating aimlessly around in an appropriated gondola.
Anyone could put the "bite" on him. That was another of his weaknesses That staunch heart of his was brimming with too much kindness. A buck? Sure. A fin? Sure. Fifty? Hell yes! He made more than that a second. So the gang hung on. Used his cars, his liquor, his money and used him for all he was worth. Once a delegation of 28 home-town pals dropped into his New York - hotel after a fight. They had spent all their money. How were they going to get home? Slats snapped his fingers. "Nothing to it," he said, and picked up the phone and ordered 28 Pullman berths for Buffalo.
What caused Slattery's rapid downfall as a fighter, as meteoric as his rise to fame? Maybe the trouble was too much too soon. Maybe it was a case of "too many parties and too many pals." One guess is as good as another. Slattery himself perhaps had the answer to the ride down. He once said that he'd give up fighting in a minute if he could play the piano. However, be never learned to play anything but the harmonica. Before Slat's first 15-round fight with Paul Berlenbach, the late Tex Rickard went to his dressing room with the idea of soothing, the nervous youngster. He found Slattery stretched out on the rubbing table trying, to play his harmonica with gloved hands.
But for a fighter who preferred music to mayhem, he made-and lost -a tidy fortune. In a career of 126 fights he earned and flung away $438,000. He could have been heavyweight champion of the world, according to most sports experts who saw him in action in his prime. Gentleman Jim Corbett made it a point to see every Slattery fight because, according to sports writers, he saw his own greatness mirrored in the lean Irishman. Gene Tunny has called him the greatest natural boxer of those times.
Slattery boxed frequently with Tunney when the latter was getting into shape for his second Dempsey fight during one furious session, Slats sent Tunney sprawling through the ropes. Newspaper stories said Tunney "slipped," but Slattery's followers have always maintained that it was a clean punch that nearly knocked the heavyweight champ out.
Slattery fought his last professional fight on August 22, 1932 in Offermann Stadium. He was knocked out in the second round by Charley Belanger, Canadian light-heavy weight champion.
(by Ed Dunn)
