(Jack Dempsey speaking in 1950)
Showing posts with label dempsey. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dempsey. Show all posts
"The facts clearly show that in 1926 I tried desperately to arrange a fight with Harry Wills but the deal collapsed when my guarantee was not forthcoming. Wills and I had signed to fight with a promoter named Floyd Fitzsimmons of Benton Harbor, Michigan. Wills, I understand, received fifty thousand dollars as his guarantee for signing the contract. I was to have received one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in advance of the fight. As the date of the fight grew nearer and my money did not appear, I became anxious and asked Fitzsimmons what was the matter. He wired me to meet him in Dayton, Ohio, assuring me that he would have the money for me there. I met Fitzsimmons in Dayton who handed me a certified check for twenty-five thousand dollars and a promise to let me have the balance almost immediately. I balked at that, demanding the full amount right away. Fitzsimmons tried to placate me by calling the bank where he said he had deposited the money. The bank, unfortunately for Fitzsimmons, informed him that it did not have that much money on hand, that there wasn’t enough to cover the twenty-five thousand dollar check he had given me. Furious, I returned the check to Fitzsimmons and told him the fight was off. Later, the Fitzsimmons syndicate financing the fight sued me for failure to honor a contract. I won the case."
(Jack Dempsey speaking in 1950)
(Jack Dempsey speaking in 1950)
"One afternoon, Jack Dempsey strolled quietly into Stillman's gym on eight avenue and after passing the time of day with several old pals, he walked up on to the balcony while "Two Ton" Tony Galento was going through the motions of working out. Galento was fatter than ever, hopelessly out of condition and quite obviously doing nothing about it.
Anyway, he didn't see Dempsey and continued waddling lazily around the ring, clowning wisecracking and grinning as he fooled with his sparring parthers. After watching a couple of rounds Dempsey came down to ringside. He was wearing a beautifully cut light grey suit, tan and white shoes, and white silk shirt and when Tony caught a sight of him, he waved a glove at the ex champ.
''Hiya Jack" he grinned. ''You look like a million bucks dis afternoon'' Dempsey gave him a mean look, ''never mind how I look, you big bum" he said "lets see you do some work''
Galento must have thought he was joking, because he made no attempt to speed up his work and carried on ambling around until Dempsey blew up. ''Have you a pair of Gloves Ray?" called out Dempsey. Then taking off his coat, he stripped right down to his white silk, monogrammed underpants and vaulted into the ring.
''Now Tony'' he said ''it's you and me. I'II show you how we used to do it'' He began huming a little tune - and old Dempsey mannerism- and then, as Galento backed away, he flashed into action. Jack was 40 years old, but his body was lean and tanned, and for three memorable minutes he was the old Dempsey, the murderous, tearaway Manassa Mauler of the 1920's.
He ripped punches into Galento's podgy torso from all angles, split his lips with a terrific left and sent the blood spurting from his nose. ''Lay Off Jack'' Galento gasped as he staggered backwards vainly trying to cover up. But Dempsey showed him no mercy, he chased after him until time was called.
Still breathing easily Dempsey ducked under the ropes and began to dress, while Galento stood shaking his head in a semi daze and trying to wipe the blood from his face with the back of his gloves.
When dressed, Dempsey gave him one contemptuous look. ''That's how we used to fight!!" "
(Ray Arcel: A Boxing Biography)
Anyway, he didn't see Dempsey and continued waddling lazily around the ring, clowning wisecracking and grinning as he fooled with his sparring parthers. After watching a couple of rounds Dempsey came down to ringside. He was wearing a beautifully cut light grey suit, tan and white shoes, and white silk shirt and when Tony caught a sight of him, he waved a glove at the ex champ.
''Hiya Jack" he grinned. ''You look like a million bucks dis afternoon'' Dempsey gave him a mean look, ''never mind how I look, you big bum" he said "lets see you do some work''
Galento must have thought he was joking, because he made no attempt to speed up his work and carried on ambling around until Dempsey blew up. ''Have you a pair of Gloves Ray?" called out Dempsey. Then taking off his coat, he stripped right down to his white silk, monogrammed underpants and vaulted into the ring.
''Now Tony'' he said ''it's you and me. I'II show you how we used to do it'' He began huming a little tune - and old Dempsey mannerism- and then, as Galento backed away, he flashed into action. Jack was 40 years old, but his body was lean and tanned, and for three memorable minutes he was the old Dempsey, the murderous, tearaway Manassa Mauler of the 1920's.
He ripped punches into Galento's podgy torso from all angles, split his lips with a terrific left and sent the blood spurting from his nose. ''Lay Off Jack'' Galento gasped as he staggered backwards vainly trying to cover up. But Dempsey showed him no mercy, he chased after him until time was called.
Still breathing easily Dempsey ducked under the ropes and began to dress, while Galento stood shaking his head in a semi daze and trying to wipe the blood from his face with the back of his gloves.
When dressed, Dempsey gave him one contemptuous look. ''That's how we used to fight!!" "
(Ray Arcel: A Boxing Biography)
Shelby
The fight was nothing to write home about. Dempsey bored in, bobbing and weaving. He tried to land squarely on Gibbons face but he was rusty and his timing was off.
After the fight Jack said, “Nailing him was like trying to thread a needle in a high wind.” Gibbons stated in his biography “Punches That I Have Taken” that “People couldn’t seem to understand how I could take so much from Dempsey…All I did was slip this way and that…Brother Mike, he taught it to me.”
The challenger also clinched and held a lot. Tommy tried to land punches to Jack’s body but Dempsey was too fast for him. Gibbons opened a cut under the champ’s right eye in the 2nd round that bothered Jack throughout the fight. Dempsey seemed to have Gibbons in trouble in round 7 but couldn’t put him away. At the end of the 15th and final round referee Jim Dougherty raised Dempsey’s hand in victory. Gibbons did not protest.
He stated years later in his biography, “I could have licked him in Shelby if I had been thirty, but I was thirty-two… I never got so tired of a man in my life.” He was tired but happy. He had gone 15 rounds with Jack Dempsey and would live to brag about it.
Years later Tommy told a reporter for CBS Radio that “Dempsey could beat anybody he could hit. The only reason he couldn’t do anything with fellows like Tunney or Greb or myself was he couldn’t hit us.”
(by Norman Marcus)
(image courtesy of rockyssplitnose)
Jack Dempsey of Salt Lake was knocked out at Murray, a suburb of Salt Lake City, Tuesday night by Jim Flynn of Pueblo, Colo., ten seconds after the men shook hands. Flynn pushed down Dempsey's guard with his right and swung his left to the jaw. The Salt Lake man sunk down for the count and it was twenty seconds after Flynn had been declared the winner before Dempsey regained his feet.
(San Antonio Light)
....................................................
Dempsey was insensible for several minutes and when brought back from the land of nod he evidently thought he was still in the prize ring and attempted to slug his seconds.
Before the fighters entered the ring, the gate receipts were split after considerable wrangling, but those connected with the affair will not say who got the big end of the money. It is understood, however, that Flynn's demands were met and when he got into the ring he cut loose for a knockout, outclassing his opponent in every respect.
During the time the men had been in the ring after shaking hands, Dempsey was hit twice on the left side of the head and twice on the right and the finish punch which closed the short but brutal contest between two giants.
After being hit twice, Dempsey appeared dazed and he was helpless as a baby against the final rain of blows. Dempsey appeared ready to do battle at the opening gong and rushed in with all his speed, but the hammer punches ended his aspirations to finish a winner.
Johnny and Alex Bratton, nine year old twins, appeared in a preliminary bout. The boys fought in the same ring as the heavyweights. They fought and slugged away but being equipped with soft gloves neither was hurt, but despite this, there was the spirit of the occasion present and the thousands of fight rooters cheered loudly as though the boys were heavyweights.
(Deseret Evening News)
......................................................................
It was the thirteenth day of the month and Jack Dempsey forgot to duck.
The "pride of Utah" will therefore have ample reason to shy at the baker's dozen day in the future for he lasted just about twenty-five seconds before Jim Flynn at Murray last night. A right hook square on the chin apparently sent Dempsey to the place where the birdies sing and it was curtains.
After a whole lot of unnecessary delay, both fighters finally entered the ring somewhere nearer midnight than 9 o'clock and much to the discomfiture of the audience and, apparently, themselves as well, Jack forgot to shake hands, but Flynn insisted on this little formality, all of which took up about five seconds. Jack rushed at Dempsey as if he, too, had a last car to catch. Jack bent over and covered up. Flynn rushed again. In fact he tore into the local man, pushed him into position with one hand and laced him with the other. Dempsey acted as if he might be content to let well enough alone, perhaps in the hope that Flynn might tire, step back or finally give him a chance to straighten up. Dempsey did not appear to be in any distress, at any rate. Then came the end like a flash. With Dempsey still bent over and walking toward Flynn, both forearms and gloves covering his face, Flynn rushed again. The Pueblo battler gave Dempsey's head a quick shove toward his right and sent a short right hand hook through Dempsey's guard and straight to the point of the chin. He stepped back at the same instant and Jack went down face first in his gloves. It was all done in a flash, but those close to the west side of the ring could plainly see the punch and all grabbed their hats and coats for the bout was over before it had gotten started.
Dempsey entered the ring as if scared out of his wits and shook like a leaf as the seconds were putting on his gloves. No one realized this any more than Flynn did and the latter was not slow to take advantage of it.
(Salt Lake Telegram)
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Salt Lake, Feb. 14.--Exit Dempsey! A "one-two" to the jaw was about all there was to the much-advertised battle at Murray last night. There was only one redeeming feature to the entire bout, and that was the fact that the dope books will carry down to posterity the information that Jim Flynn was engaged in one of the shortest bouts in history. The contest lasted twenty seconds and in that time Jack Dempsey never laid his glove on the "Pueblo trial horse." The men shook hands, Flynn put his head down and bored in. He got a left to Dempsey's face and had the local boy covering up and not knowing what to do. As Jack dropped his guard from his chin and peeked out, Jim put a right swing to the local boy's jaw, followed quickly with a right to the same spot, and Referee Ralph Armstrong counted ten. It was all over except hauling the "local pride" to his corner.
(The Ogden Standard)
(San Antonio Light)
....................................................
Dempsey was insensible for several minutes and when brought back from the land of nod he evidently thought he was still in the prize ring and attempted to slug his seconds.
Before the fighters entered the ring, the gate receipts were split after considerable wrangling, but those connected with the affair will not say who got the big end of the money. It is understood, however, that Flynn's demands were met and when he got into the ring he cut loose for a knockout, outclassing his opponent in every respect.
During the time the men had been in the ring after shaking hands, Dempsey was hit twice on the left side of the head and twice on the right and the finish punch which closed the short but brutal contest between two giants.
After being hit twice, Dempsey appeared dazed and he was helpless as a baby against the final rain of blows. Dempsey appeared ready to do battle at the opening gong and rushed in with all his speed, but the hammer punches ended his aspirations to finish a winner.
Johnny and Alex Bratton, nine year old twins, appeared in a preliminary bout. The boys fought in the same ring as the heavyweights. They fought and slugged away but being equipped with soft gloves neither was hurt, but despite this, there was the spirit of the occasion present and the thousands of fight rooters cheered loudly as though the boys were heavyweights.
(Deseret Evening News)
......................................................................
It was the thirteenth day of the month and Jack Dempsey forgot to duck.
The "pride of Utah" will therefore have ample reason to shy at the baker's dozen day in the future for he lasted just about twenty-five seconds before Jim Flynn at Murray last night. A right hook square on the chin apparently sent Dempsey to the place where the birdies sing and it was curtains.
After a whole lot of unnecessary delay, both fighters finally entered the ring somewhere nearer midnight than 9 o'clock and much to the discomfiture of the audience and, apparently, themselves as well, Jack forgot to shake hands, but Flynn insisted on this little formality, all of which took up about five seconds. Jack rushed at Dempsey as if he, too, had a last car to catch. Jack bent over and covered up. Flynn rushed again. In fact he tore into the local man, pushed him into position with one hand and laced him with the other. Dempsey acted as if he might be content to let well enough alone, perhaps in the hope that Flynn might tire, step back or finally give him a chance to straighten up. Dempsey did not appear to be in any distress, at any rate. Then came the end like a flash. With Dempsey still bent over and walking toward Flynn, both forearms and gloves covering his face, Flynn rushed again. The Pueblo battler gave Dempsey's head a quick shove toward his right and sent a short right hand hook through Dempsey's guard and straight to the point of the chin. He stepped back at the same instant and Jack went down face first in his gloves. It was all done in a flash, but those close to the west side of the ring could plainly see the punch and all grabbed their hats and coats for the bout was over before it had gotten started.
Dempsey entered the ring as if scared out of his wits and shook like a leaf as the seconds were putting on his gloves. No one realized this any more than Flynn did and the latter was not slow to take advantage of it.
(Salt Lake Telegram)
.............................................................
Salt Lake, Feb. 14.--Exit Dempsey! A "one-two" to the jaw was about all there was to the much-advertised battle at Murray last night. There was only one redeeming feature to the entire bout, and that was the fact that the dope books will carry down to posterity the information that Jim Flynn was engaged in one of the shortest bouts in history. The contest lasted twenty seconds and in that time Jack Dempsey never laid his glove on the "Pueblo trial horse." The men shook hands, Flynn put his head down and bored in. He got a left to Dempsey's face and had the local boy covering up and not knowing what to do. As Jack dropped his guard from his chin and peeked out, Jim put a right swing to the local boy's jaw, followed quickly with a right to the same spot, and Referee Ralph Armstrong counted ten. It was all over except hauling the "local pride" to his corner.
(The Ogden Standard)
Sept 2, 1920 -
Dempsey tackled Bill Tate, Harry Greb and Marty Farrell in sparring this afternoon. He took them on in that order, boxing two rounds with Tate and three each with Greb and Farrell. The bout with Greb was a real one. It was the best work-out Dempsey has had. The Pittsburgher was in prime shape, and although he weighs only 165 pounds he gave the champion a real honust-to-goodness battle. Dempsey hasn't seen so many gloves in a long time as Greb showed him. Greb was all over him and kept forcing him around the ring throughout the session. Dempsey could do but little with the speedy light heavyweight, while Greb seemed to be able to hit Dempsey almost at will. Time and again Greb made the champion miss with his famous right and left hooks to the head and countered with heavy swings to the head and hooks to the body.
Greb was a veritable whirlwind. Twenty-five pounds lighter than the champion and about four inches shorter, Harry made the champion step lively. He had to jump off the floor to hit Dempsey in the head when the latter was standing straight, but managed to do it and landed without leaving himself open to Jack's snappy hooks and short swings. One of the most notable things about Dempsey's boxing is the fact that he is not hitting as straight as he did in Toledo. This is not a particularly good sign. Why he should hook and swing his blows more is a mystery. He can hit straight when he wants to, and when he does his blows carry a wealth of power behind them, for the champion knows how to put his powerful shoulders behind his punches and how also to get the necessary asistance from his legs by rising to the ball of the rearward foot when the punch gets over. It may be that Dempsey does not care to hit straight from the shoulder, fearing to punish his partners too severly.
Sept 3, 1920 -
Dempsey sparred three sessions with Harry Greb, Pittsburgh lightweight, and another trio with Marty Farrell, Pacific Coast middleweight. Miske felt the lack of capable sparring mates and he was compelled to set the pace himself. He stepped the first two rounds with George Wilson, a negro heavyweight, the second two with Jack Heinen.
Early in the third round Greb's head collided with Dempsey's mouth, cutting the champion's tongue so severly that he spat blood for the remainder of the round.
The Pittsburgher was in fine fettle after the excellent showing he made against the champion. He was full of pep. With the call of time signalizing the beginning of activities, Greb promptly rushed Dempsey. The onslaught was so sudden that Jack was caught off his guard and it took a solid left hook into the body, plied with all the force at Greb's command, which is considerable, to jolt Dempsey into action. Then the fur began to fly.
It was a whirlwind three rounds that these two fighters staged for the edification of the biggest crowd that has yet shoe-horned its way into the grandstand at the baseball park in front of which the ring is built. There were fully 2,000 people present, and they were treated to as much action in those three rounds as is usually crowded into eight of a real bout.
The bout caused the crowd to burst into cheers and prolonged applasuse. In fact, during the intermission between the second and third rounds Ted Hayes, who acts as announcer at the Dempsey camp, was compelled to request the spectators to refrain from urging either of the men to greater efforts.
Although Dempsey insists that his wind is perfect and that he is not troubled by shortness of breath while working out, to those who have studied him closely it appears as if his wind might be in better shape. He was puffing very hard after boxing Greb. Of course, it was an unusually fast workout, but it seemed to take him longer than it should to recover his wind even after so strenuous a session.
Sept 4, 1920 -
Harry Greb, looking as chipper as ever in his U.S. Navy Jersey and his black tights, climbed into the ring to take Dempsey over the jumps for two rounds of three minutes each.
Just as soon as they squared off it was apparent that there was to be none of the continuous slam-bang stuff which had accompanied their previous engagements. Greb did not rush the champion and they feinted and pranced about for a full minute before either made a real lead. Toward the close of the round they met near mid-ring and there was a sharp exchange of body punches. The second round was a little livelier, but it wasn't a cyclone, and the crowd was somewhat dissappointed. The fans had expected to see more of a real battling than had featured the jousts between these two.
"Doc Kearns, who was managing Jack Dempsey, refused to let his tiger in the ring with Harry Greb. They did spar on two occasions. The first time was when Dempsey was getting ready for his title defense against Billy Miske in Benton Harbor, Michigan. Greb ripped into dempsey, punching the heaveyweight champion as he pleased, until Kearns finally threw him out of the ring for being too rough."
"It is not generally known however, that Greb and Dempsey did actually meet in the ring. It was at Jack's Atlantic City training camp. They were to box four rounds with sixteen ounce training gloves. Jack Kearns refereed. Harry came snorting out of his corner raising hell with the heaveyweight champion's middle. Dempsey looked confused, he hesitated about throwing punches at first. But he became desperate along about the second round and started putting ginger behind his left hooks. But Greb raced around so fast and poked so many jabs into Jack's face that the great Mauler couldn't land one solid wallop during the entire exhibition. The next day, in bold black type the size off an egg, some papers carried the headline "GREB MAKES DEMPSEY LOOK LIKE A KITTEN."
(Quotes taken from - New York Times / The Washington Post / Ring Magazine / Boxing and Wrestling Magazine)
Dempsey tackled Bill Tate, Harry Greb and Marty Farrell in sparring this afternoon. He took them on in that order, boxing two rounds with Tate and three each with Greb and Farrell. The bout with Greb was a real one. It was the best work-out Dempsey has had. The Pittsburgher was in prime shape, and although he weighs only 165 pounds he gave the champion a real honust-to-goodness battle. Dempsey hasn't seen so many gloves in a long time as Greb showed him. Greb was all over him and kept forcing him around the ring throughout the session. Dempsey could do but little with the speedy light heavyweight, while Greb seemed to be able to hit Dempsey almost at will. Time and again Greb made the champion miss with his famous right and left hooks to the head and countered with heavy swings to the head and hooks to the body.
Greb was a veritable whirlwind. Twenty-five pounds lighter than the champion and about four inches shorter, Harry made the champion step lively. He had to jump off the floor to hit Dempsey in the head when the latter was standing straight, but managed to do it and landed without leaving himself open to Jack's snappy hooks and short swings. One of the most notable things about Dempsey's boxing is the fact that he is not hitting as straight as he did in Toledo. This is not a particularly good sign. Why he should hook and swing his blows more is a mystery. He can hit straight when he wants to, and when he does his blows carry a wealth of power behind them, for the champion knows how to put his powerful shoulders behind his punches and how also to get the necessary asistance from his legs by rising to the ball of the rearward foot when the punch gets over. It may be that Dempsey does not care to hit straight from the shoulder, fearing to punish his partners too severly.
Sept 3, 1920 -
Dempsey sparred three sessions with Harry Greb, Pittsburgh lightweight, and another trio with Marty Farrell, Pacific Coast middleweight. Miske felt the lack of capable sparring mates and he was compelled to set the pace himself. He stepped the first two rounds with George Wilson, a negro heavyweight, the second two with Jack Heinen.
Early in the third round Greb's head collided with Dempsey's mouth, cutting the champion's tongue so severly that he spat blood for the remainder of the round.
The Pittsburgher was in fine fettle after the excellent showing he made against the champion. He was full of pep. With the call of time signalizing the beginning of activities, Greb promptly rushed Dempsey. The onslaught was so sudden that Jack was caught off his guard and it took a solid left hook into the body, plied with all the force at Greb's command, which is considerable, to jolt Dempsey into action. Then the fur began to fly.
It was a whirlwind three rounds that these two fighters staged for the edification of the biggest crowd that has yet shoe-horned its way into the grandstand at the baseball park in front of which the ring is built. There were fully 2,000 people present, and they were treated to as much action in those three rounds as is usually crowded into eight of a real bout.
The bout caused the crowd to burst into cheers and prolonged applasuse. In fact, during the intermission between the second and third rounds Ted Hayes, who acts as announcer at the Dempsey camp, was compelled to request the spectators to refrain from urging either of the men to greater efforts.
Although Dempsey insists that his wind is perfect and that he is not troubled by shortness of breath while working out, to those who have studied him closely it appears as if his wind might be in better shape. He was puffing very hard after boxing Greb. Of course, it was an unusually fast workout, but it seemed to take him longer than it should to recover his wind even after so strenuous a session.
Sept 4, 1920 -
Harry Greb, looking as chipper as ever in his U.S. Navy Jersey and his black tights, climbed into the ring to take Dempsey over the jumps for two rounds of three minutes each.
Just as soon as they squared off it was apparent that there was to be none of the continuous slam-bang stuff which had accompanied their previous engagements. Greb did not rush the champion and they feinted and pranced about for a full minute before either made a real lead. Toward the close of the round they met near mid-ring and there was a sharp exchange of body punches. The second round was a little livelier, but it wasn't a cyclone, and the crowd was somewhat dissappointed. The fans had expected to see more of a real battling than had featured the jousts between these two.
"Doc Kearns, who was managing Jack Dempsey, refused to let his tiger in the ring with Harry Greb. They did spar on two occasions. The first time was when Dempsey was getting ready for his title defense against Billy Miske in Benton Harbor, Michigan. Greb ripped into dempsey, punching the heaveyweight champion as he pleased, until Kearns finally threw him out of the ring for being too rough."
"It is not generally known however, that Greb and Dempsey did actually meet in the ring. It was at Jack's Atlantic City training camp. They were to box four rounds with sixteen ounce training gloves. Jack Kearns refereed. Harry came snorting out of his corner raising hell with the heaveyweight champion's middle. Dempsey looked confused, he hesitated about throwing punches at first. But he became desperate along about the second round and started putting ginger behind his left hooks. But Greb raced around so fast and poked so many jabs into Jack's face that the great Mauler couldn't land one solid wallop during the entire exhibition. The next day, in bold black type the size off an egg, some papers carried the headline "GREB MAKES DEMPSEY LOOK LIKE A KITTEN."
(Quotes taken from - New York Times / The Washington Post / Ring Magazine / Boxing and Wrestling Magazine)
"That’s right, folks, my robust opinions are in The Times while the Manassa Mauler had to harrumph in the obscure New York Amsterdam News. How appropriate. For years I pursued frightened opponents around the world before winning the heavyweight championship at age thirty. Jack Dempsey got his title young and spent the next seven years dodging formidable black fighters, pummeling white stiffs, and fooling around in Hollywood. I don’t begrudge him the latter, but when a man’s most significant victories come over hundred-ten-pound starlets, he’s no champ, at least in the ring. And, please, disregard those who say I was bad as Dempsey in denying black fighters opportunities. I only did that after I became champ. At least I fought my brothers while I ascended.
Study the record. Jack Dempsey, already a lazy titleholder, didn’t fight for three years before skinny Gene Tunney peppered him ten rounds. Dempsey was then an old man at thirty-one. At that stage I kept getting better. That’s why, if Dempsey had given me a shot in 1919, when I was only forty-one, I’d have boxed and confused him and made him stumble around the ring before I dropped the hammer. But of course Jack Dempsey wouldn’t fight me then. Maybe he will now. He’s only forty-six and I’m sixty-three and been losing most of my fights for years.
Joe Louis also irritates me. I don’t know why black folks cheer such an inarticulate guy. They must not remember. If I were twenty-five years younger, I’d tattoo the Brown Bomber."
(1941 column by former heavyweight champion Jack Johnson published in The New York Times.)
Study the record. Jack Dempsey, already a lazy titleholder, didn’t fight for three years before skinny Gene Tunney peppered him ten rounds. Dempsey was then an old man at thirty-one. At that stage I kept getting better. That’s why, if Dempsey had given me a shot in 1919, when I was only forty-one, I’d have boxed and confused him and made him stumble around the ring before I dropped the hammer. But of course Jack Dempsey wouldn’t fight me then. Maybe he will now. He’s only forty-six and I’m sixty-three and been losing most of my fights for years.
Joe Louis also irritates me. I don’t know why black folks cheer such an inarticulate guy. They must not remember. If I were twenty-five years younger, I’d tattoo the Brown Bomber."
(1941 column by former heavyweight champion Jack Johnson published in The New York Times.)
Dempsey never had a “boxing match” with anyone in his life. It was always a fight. He began talking about one of the fights, one of the toughest. It was a ‘fight he lost to a roughneck puncher named Johnny Sudenberg in Goldfield, Nevada, in 1915. Dempsey was 20 years old then, not fully grown, weighing 165 pounds. He had been hopping freights, working in mines, traveling all over Utah, Colorado, Nevada, trying to get into the ring against anyone who would fight him.
Sudenberg was a heavyweight, one of the most rugged and skilful the mining country had ever produced. Dempsey went up against him as a substitute for a fighter who had backed out. The promoters were worried, because Jack looked too small and seemed too green as a fighter. But Dempsey talked them into it.
He trained in a dive called the Northern Bar. His first sparring partner was a rough Indian pug named Kid Harrison. Dempsey, never easy on spar‑mates, knocked Harrison stiff one day and lost him. He took on another boy named Roy Moore. This one managed to stay on his feet during the training. Before the bout, Moore, who had seen Sudenberg fight, advised Dempsey not to start slugging it out with his opponent.
That went against Dempsey’s grain. He knew how to do only one thing, go in there and slug. The fight was held in the town dancehall. For three rounds, the two men stood toe to toe and tried to kill. each other with punches. The place was a madhouse of screaming miners and farmers. They had never seen anything like it.
“Johnny could hit,” Dempsey said. “From the fifth round on, I had no idea what was happening Sometimes there was a face in front of me. Sometimes there was nothing. I just kept throwing my fists.”
The fight went ten rounds. Dempsey was on his feet when the bell rang, but for hours afterwards he didn’t know whether he had won or been knocked out. The fight went to Sudenberg on a decision. Dempsey dragged his battered body and welted, shapeless face to a shack outside of town where he slept. When he woke up the next morning, he discovered that his manager had skipped off with the $100 Dempsey was to get for the fight. He was flat broke.
The beaten‑up kid fighter hung around town for a few days, then a wire came from a promoter in Tonopah, Nevada, 30 miles away. Would Dempsey fight Johnny Sudenberg again? Dempsey’s answer was to start for Tonopah, walking. It was a walk over the mountains. He legged it 15 miles before he was picked up by a wagon. And ten days later, his face and body still swollen and bruised, Young Dempsey, as he was then known, climbed into the ring again against Sudenberg.
The second Dempsey‑Sudenberg fight was rougher than the first. In the first round, Dempsey floored Sudenberg seven times. Each time, Johnny bounced back and crashed into Dempsey. Round after round wore on. One of the fighters had to retreat. It was Sudenberg. He began to back up, but as he went back, he kept belting away and gaining strength. Dempsey, not used to fighting in high altitudes, began to weaken. In the seventh round, Sudenberg brought up a right from the floor and knocked Dempsey flat on his back. Jack got ‑up. Sudenberg knocked him down again. Dempsey took three knockdowns in that round, but kept on boring in for more.
The crowd watching that fight was as exhausted as the fighters. By the last round, with the two men still slugging at each other, they watched in silent, breathless awe. They had seen the greatest prizefight of their lives, probably one of the most brutal of all time. It was called a draw. Dempsey pulled himself across the ring at the final bell, put his arm around Johnny Sudenberg’s shoulders. They left the ring that way, supporting each other.
“He was a fighter,” Dempsey said. “I really liked that guy.”
Those were the fights, dozens of them, that made Dempsey the kind of fighter he was. Hard, back‑breaking work and cruel jungle‑camp brawls developed Dempsey into the merciless, stalking killer he became in the ring Those who criticize Dempsey’s lust for mauling his opponents don’t realize that these were the only tactics he knew. The fighters of that day asked no quarter and gave none. To win, you had to be the tougher. You fought to prove how strong and mean you were.
(By Jack Sher)
Sudenberg was a heavyweight, one of the most rugged and skilful the mining country had ever produced. Dempsey went up against him as a substitute for a fighter who had backed out. The promoters were worried, because Jack looked too small and seemed too green as a fighter. But Dempsey talked them into it.
He trained in a dive called the Northern Bar. His first sparring partner was a rough Indian pug named Kid Harrison. Dempsey, never easy on spar‑mates, knocked Harrison stiff one day and lost him. He took on another boy named Roy Moore. This one managed to stay on his feet during the training. Before the bout, Moore, who had seen Sudenberg fight, advised Dempsey not to start slugging it out with his opponent.
That went against Dempsey’s grain. He knew how to do only one thing, go in there and slug. The fight was held in the town dancehall. For three rounds, the two men stood toe to toe and tried to kill. each other with punches. The place was a madhouse of screaming miners and farmers. They had never seen anything like it.
“Johnny could hit,” Dempsey said. “From the fifth round on, I had no idea what was happening Sometimes there was a face in front of me. Sometimes there was nothing. I just kept throwing my fists.”
The fight went ten rounds. Dempsey was on his feet when the bell rang, but for hours afterwards he didn’t know whether he had won or been knocked out. The fight went to Sudenberg on a decision. Dempsey dragged his battered body and welted, shapeless face to a shack outside of town where he slept. When he woke up the next morning, he discovered that his manager had skipped off with the $100 Dempsey was to get for the fight. He was flat broke.
The beaten‑up kid fighter hung around town for a few days, then a wire came from a promoter in Tonopah, Nevada, 30 miles away. Would Dempsey fight Johnny Sudenberg again? Dempsey’s answer was to start for Tonopah, walking. It was a walk over the mountains. He legged it 15 miles before he was picked up by a wagon. And ten days later, his face and body still swollen and bruised, Young Dempsey, as he was then known, climbed into the ring again against Sudenberg.
The second Dempsey‑Sudenberg fight was rougher than the first. In the first round, Dempsey floored Sudenberg seven times. Each time, Johnny bounced back and crashed into Dempsey. Round after round wore on. One of the fighters had to retreat. It was Sudenberg. He began to back up, but as he went back, he kept belting away and gaining strength. Dempsey, not used to fighting in high altitudes, began to weaken. In the seventh round, Sudenberg brought up a right from the floor and knocked Dempsey flat on his back. Jack got ‑up. Sudenberg knocked him down again. Dempsey took three knockdowns in that round, but kept on boring in for more.
The crowd watching that fight was as exhausted as the fighters. By the last round, with the two men still slugging at each other, they watched in silent, breathless awe. They had seen the greatest prizefight of their lives, probably one of the most brutal of all time. It was called a draw. Dempsey pulled himself across the ring at the final bell, put his arm around Johnny Sudenberg’s shoulders. They left the ring that way, supporting each other.
“He was a fighter,” Dempsey said. “I really liked that guy.”
Those were the fights, dozens of them, that made Dempsey the kind of fighter he was. Hard, back‑breaking work and cruel jungle‑camp brawls developed Dempsey into the merciless, stalking killer he became in the ring Those who criticize Dempsey’s lust for mauling his opponents don’t realize that these were the only tactics he knew. The fighters of that day asked no quarter and gave none. To win, you had to be the tougher. You fought to prove how strong and mean you were.
(By Jack Sher)
Nate Druxman, a not-so-successful boxer, and a man who sold cigars, jewelry, real estate and toiled in Seattle shipyards, had started promoting local boxing shows at the Seattle Elks Club at Fourth Avenue and Spring Street in August, 1914. A man of considerable ego, Druxman talked former heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey in August of 1931 into boxing three exhibition bouts with Denny Lenhart, a Portland pug, that filled Civic Arena. Two years later, on July 11, 1933, Druxman put together the first officially sanctioned world title fight in Seattle, a pairing of Freddie Miller and Abie Israel for the NBA featherweight title. Five years after that, Druxman brought Freddie Steele and Al Hostak together for a Civic Stadium showdown that has since gone down as one of the major spectacles in Seattle sports history.
Steele entered the ring with more than 120 official victories and only four losses in his portfolio, and installed as a slight favorite. He also entered as a fighter compromised by the lingering effects of a broken breastbone he had suffered in a loss to Freddie Apostoli seven months earlier (Jan. 7, 1938, at Madison Square Garden), and injuries he had received in a serious traffic accident (crashed into a stalled vehicle on the Seattle-Tacoma highway near the Fife junction).
Most experts figured that the fight would go the 15-round distance, and they figured wrong. The ballyhoo ended in a blink.
Wrote The Seattle Times in its July 27, 1938 edition that included a dozen photos of the event: “Steele made two bad mistakes, one for lack of a smart battle campaign and the other because he was too groggy to know better. His first mistake was when he came out swinging to meet the Savage Slav. There’s no middleweight in the business qualified to slug it out with Hostak. He hits too hard and too fast.”
Hostak landed the first punch and then floored Steele three more times before delivering the winning blow, a short, perfectly timed left hook to the button that sent Steele toppling pie-eyed to the canvas. Referee Jack Dempsey counted the decisive 10 at 1:43 of the first round.
Steele’s crushing loss, coupled with his previous injuries, essentially ended his boxing career. He did not fight again for three years, losing by TKO to Jimmy Casino at Legion Stadium in Hollywood, CA., May 23, 1941. That turned out to be Steele’s last fight, and he concluded his career with 125 wins (60 knockouts), five losses and 11 draws.
Hostak fought for 11 more years, finishing with 63 wins (42 by knockout), nine losses and 12 draws. He lost the world middleweight title he took from Steele, by majority decision, to Solly Krieger Nov. 1, 1938, at Seattle’s Civic Auditorium, after breaking both of his hands early in the fight and suffering the first knockdown of his career in the 14th round - Steele was among the first in the ring to console Hostak after his loss.
(By David Eskenazi)
Steele entered the ring with more than 120 official victories and only four losses in his portfolio, and installed as a slight favorite. He also entered as a fighter compromised by the lingering effects of a broken breastbone he had suffered in a loss to Freddie Apostoli seven months earlier (Jan. 7, 1938, at Madison Square Garden), and injuries he had received in a serious traffic accident (crashed into a stalled vehicle on the Seattle-Tacoma highway near the Fife junction).
Most experts figured that the fight would go the 15-round distance, and they figured wrong. The ballyhoo ended in a blink.
Wrote The Seattle Times in its July 27, 1938 edition that included a dozen photos of the event: “Steele made two bad mistakes, one for lack of a smart battle campaign and the other because he was too groggy to know better. His first mistake was when he came out swinging to meet the Savage Slav. There’s no middleweight in the business qualified to slug it out with Hostak. He hits too hard and too fast.”
Hostak landed the first punch and then floored Steele three more times before delivering the winning blow, a short, perfectly timed left hook to the button that sent Steele toppling pie-eyed to the canvas. Referee Jack Dempsey counted the decisive 10 at 1:43 of the first round.
Steele’s crushing loss, coupled with his previous injuries, essentially ended his boxing career. He did not fight again for three years, losing by TKO to Jimmy Casino at Legion Stadium in Hollywood, CA., May 23, 1941. That turned out to be Steele’s last fight, and he concluded his career with 125 wins (60 knockouts), five losses and 11 draws.
Hostak fought for 11 more years, finishing with 63 wins (42 by knockout), nine losses and 12 draws. He lost the world middleweight title he took from Steele, by majority decision, to Solly Krieger Nov. 1, 1938, at Seattle’s Civic Auditorium, after breaking both of his hands early in the fight and suffering the first knockdown of his career in the 14th round - Steele was among the first in the ring to console Hostak after his loss.
(By David Eskenazi)
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