Showing posts with label joe. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joe. Show all posts
"Looking back, I'm almost happy I lost that fight. Just imagine if I would have come back to Germany with a victory. I had nothing to do with the Nazis, but they would have given me a medal. After the war I might have been considered a war criminal." - Max Schmeling
(Enhanced photo courtesy of CBS contributor JTheron)
(Enhanced photo courtesy of CBS contributor JTheron)
Barbados Demon
“My oh my, wasn’t Joe Walcott a tough boy! He was the hardest hitter I ever met. Never before or never since then have I been hit as hard and as often as that night, and I never landed more blows on a fighter in fifteen rounds than I hurled into Joe Walcott that night. The house was in an uproar before the first round ended and from then until the end of the fight the customers never sat down.” - Sam Langford
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(enhanced photo courtesy of CBS contributor JTheron)
*The original (Barbados Demon) Joe Walcott.
March '71
When he broke camp five detectives rode shotgun with him to New York, underlining how serious they had taken the many death threats to his life. He didn't say much, said one, and he "looked so distant we joked that he was sitting there waiting for us to give him the menu for his last meal."
There were only a handful of people in Frazier's room that night - Durham, Futch, an assistant, Les Peleman, and a Philly cop bodyguard. Joe was gloved and ready. Durham took him to the far corner of the room, put his hands on his shoulders, looked him straight in the eye and in his signature voice said: "Well, we're here. I want you to know what you've done, boy. There will never be another Joe Frazier. They all laughed. You got us here. There's not another human who ever lived I'd want to send out there, not even Joe Louis. Win tonight, and the road will be paved with gold.
Joe knelt in the corner of the room and prayed aloud: "God, let me survive this night. God protect my family. God grant me strength. And God...allow me to kick the shit out of this mothafucker!."
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A more just world would have celebrated Frazier's victory that night. From the beginning, however, careful observers knew that the story wasn't going to play out like that. "Joe's such a decent guy," veteran trainer Futch said of Frazier before the fight, "but when he beats Ali, Joe is going to be to go down as one of the most unpopular black champions of all time."
The next day Ali was public again, the X-rays were negative. He wanted his legions to know that he didn't lose, it was a bad decision, and that he had only trained for a six-round fight. He had shown remarkable heart and endurance, now with cameras grinding he was trying to steal the fight back from Joe, issuing some subtle, dippy call for a referendum, and he was succeeding. Privately, he was of another mind: "We been whupped. Maybe I'll get some peace now. We all have to take defeats in life." Joe watched on television at the Pierre, had Ali's comments read to him as he lay in bed. "It's not like I even won," he said. "He's robbin' me. Like nothin' changed!" He struggled to his feet. He tried to lift the TV set, to hurl it across the room. He was too weak. Durham guided him back to bed, saying: "Now, now, Joe. You know he aint got any sense." Nevertheless, Frazier continued to seethe. A commission doctor came by, suggested he be moved to a hospital in the Catskills. "What?" Joe said. "So he can make more headlines, show how he beat me so bad I gotta be put in a hospital?" Joe slipped out of the Pierre, to St Luke's Hospital in Philly. For twenty-hours, Dr James Guffe had him lay in a bed of ice. Joe dreamed a spirit had taken his hand, said he would be okay. "I could feel his touch. He was right there." They told him the next morning there had been no visitors.
His life hung out there for several days. His blood pressure was in another galaxy, and he had a kidney infection. Day and night, every five minutes, doctors scurried in and out of his room. They thought they would lose him to a stroke. Durham was in London on business, and quickly hustled back. But for a time, only Joe Hand, a cop and stockholder, sat out the nights with him.
"Let him live," Joe said to no one in particular. Joe stayed in a deep sleep, almost a coma. When he awoke, he mumbled over and over: "Don't say a word, Joe. Don't let Ali find out I'm here." At one point, four doctors lingered ominously over his bed. He awoke one time, and said: "All the money I made for people, and you're the only one here, Joe." Hand tried to comfort him, what could he say to a man on the brink? Finally, Joe broke through, like he had through Ali's mechanized jab, and he began to stabilize. One doctor sighed and said: "It was close."
Joe Frazier stayed in St Luke's hospital for three weeks.
(by Mark Kram)
Sept. 1906.
A highly touted fight, held in the Nevada hinterlands to escape anti-boxing laws, had the box-office appeal of pitting a fan-favorite boxer, Battling Nelson, against one of the greatest fighters of all time, Joe Gans. Gans was black, and any interracial boxing match was big news in those days. Nelson was considered to be over-matched, but Gans was coming into the twilight of his career, and may have already been ill with tuberculosis (he would die of the disease just a few years later). The grueling fight lasted 42 rounds, and was finally won by Gans on a foul, a low blow by Nelson. The foul call was amazing because black fighters were rarely given the benefit of a clean fight in those days. Referees made it a habit to turn a blind eye to dirty tricks by white fighters against black fighters.
(by Allan Holtz)
Gans literally killed himself to make the lightweight limit for this bout, Nat Fleischer stated in "The Three Colored Aces." As a result of his extremely light diet and strenuous training in the Nevada heat, Gans would feel the effects of tuberculosis shortly afterward. Nelson's manager Billy Nolan allegedly set extremely unfair standards, as Champion Gans received only $11,000, compared to Nelson's $34,000 (or $22,500, depending upon the source). And when Gans did make it down to 133 pounds, the lightweight limit at the time, Nolan announced that he must enter the ring at the same weight or the fight would be called off. Gans, who allowed all this just to reportedly "bring home the bacon" for his family, still had a vicious combatant to face in the ring.
United States President Teddy Roosevelt's son Kermit was in the audience.
A highly touted fight, held in the Nevada hinterlands to escape anti-boxing laws, had the box-office appeal of pitting a fan-favorite boxer, Battling Nelson, against one of the greatest fighters of all time, Joe Gans. Gans was black, and any interracial boxing match was big news in those days. Nelson was considered to be over-matched, but Gans was coming into the twilight of his career, and may have already been ill with tuberculosis (he would die of the disease just a few years later). The grueling fight lasted 42 rounds, and was finally won by Gans on a foul, a low blow by Nelson. The foul call was amazing because black fighters were rarely given the benefit of a clean fight in those days. Referees made it a habit to turn a blind eye to dirty tricks by white fighters against black fighters.
(by Allan Holtz)
Gans literally killed himself to make the lightweight limit for this bout, Nat Fleischer stated in "The Three Colored Aces." As a result of his extremely light diet and strenuous training in the Nevada heat, Gans would feel the effects of tuberculosis shortly afterward. Nelson's manager Billy Nolan allegedly set extremely unfair standards, as Champion Gans received only $11,000, compared to Nelson's $34,000 (or $22,500, depending upon the source). And when Gans did make it down to 133 pounds, the lightweight limit at the time, Nolan announced that he must enter the ring at the same weight or the fight would be called off. Gans, who allowed all this just to reportedly "bring home the bacon" for his family, still had a vicious combatant to face in the ring.
United States President Teddy Roosevelt's son Kermit was in the audience.
The confusing Joe Gans v Jimmy Britt World Lightweight Title story...
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In both the 'Ring Record Book' and 'The Ring: Boxing The 20th Century' it is found that Gans relinquished the title in November 1904, “because of difficulty making the weight.” No exact date of the forfeiture is given in either source. The reason for this omission is simple – there is no date because there is no record to be found in any newspaper account of his era quoting Gans as saying that he gave up his lightweight title.
In an 'Illustrated History of Boxing' (Fleischer and Andre p 300) it is found that “Jimmy Britt claimed that Gans had declined to make weight and thereby forfeited his title.” The problem with Britt's claim is that Gans clearly did make the weight. Press accounts prove that Gans’ weight was a big issue in the days preceding the fight, but the fight nevertheless took place on Oct. 31, 1904, in San Francisco, as a lightweight championship match. The Oct. 28, 1904, San Francisco Chronicle reported that “Last night along the line there were all sorts of discussions upon this weight problem …it is the consensus of opinion that the colored lad is in for a hard time trimming off the surplus poundage. This being the first fight Gans ever made at 133 pounds, ringside.” The weight of 133 pounds, however, should not be considered as set in stone for the lightweight limit as the Frank Erne-Gans title fight of two years previous the combatants had agreed to a higher weight limit. Nat Fleischer wrote, (BD, 153) "The contest was for world lightweight championship and the men agreed to scale at 136 pounds." This fact is backed up by newspaper accounts; the Chronicle May 13, 1902 reported, "The weight for the bout was 136 pounds ringside." The now accepted weight limit of 135 pounds became standard a few years later, after Willie Ritchie won the title in 1912.
The Oct. 21, 1904, Chronicle reported the two fighters’ managers would meet at Harry Corbett’s to “discuss the question of the referee of the championship battle between Gans and Britt.” The Oct. 23 Chronicle wrote “To the casual visitor to Gans’ camp the lightweight champion looks a trifle drawn.” Gans himself said in the same issue “If Britt wins from me I hope he will abandon all his talk about the color line. If I am beaten the lightweight championship goes to him.” Clearly both the press and Gans considered himself champion going into the Jimmy Britt fight.
The controversy over Gans’ record seems to result from the way Gans won the fight with Britt – Britt fouled Gans in the fifth round and was disqualified. Britt was warned throughout the fight several times for fouls, including hitting low. The Nov. 1 Chronicle quoted referee Eddie Graney as saying, “He hit Gans three times while he was on his knees and there was only one thing that could possibly be done,” i.e., disqualify Britt.
Gans, then, retained the title by foul. At no time did Gans say he relinquished the title. After the fight, Gans told the Chronicle (Nov. 1, 1904) “I shall not give him a return match for two reasons. His fouls were so open that he is not entitled to another match, but besides that I am convinced I cannot be strong at 133 pounds, ringside.” Though admitting he was weak, he never said he gave up the title. He merely said that he couldn’t be strong at that weight, excusing what was reported to be an admittedly weak performance against Britt. But performing badly does not mean he lost, as we will see later on. But despite his performance, the Nov. 2 Chronicle had Gans’ manager, Al Herford, making this offer: “I will match Gans against Britt at 134 pounds ringside and will guarantee a purse of 15,000 at Baltimore.”
The November newspaper clippings on microfilm reveal that at no time did Gans abdicate the lightweight title or say he will no longer campaign at lightweight. There is no evidence whatsoever that Gans ever relinquished the title. The Nov. 19, 1904 National Police Gazette reported "Joe Gans and Jimmy Britt May be Matched Again for a Purse and The Lightweight Championship." If Gans was no longer going to fight at lightweight then why was he trying to negotiate a second Britt fight for the title?
The idea that Gans gave up the title in November 1904 seems to come from Jimmy Britt, who sought to rewrite the record books and erase his loss by appealing to the sentiments of the white press. Britt took Gans’ statement to mean that he could no longer make 133 pounds, leading Britt to believe he was to be the rightful champion. Britt claimed this because he believed publicly that he was the better man in the fight and “should” have won. This fact is backed up in Nat Fleischer's 'Black Dynamite' (172) "Britt and his adherents refused to yield. They declared the action of the referee was unwarranted and Britt in the eyes of the Californians was still the champion.”
The British Boxing Board of Control Boxing Yearbook 2002 on page 230 seems to quote Fleischer with the following reference:
“1904. 31 October Joe Gans W Dis 5 Jimmy Britt , San Francisco, USA. For over two years Britt had disputed the title, firstly drawing the 'colour bar' and later claiming that Gans was incapable of making 133 lbs. However, while Gans proved he could make the weight for this one it obviously left him weakened, something that was painfully exploited by Britt. The only thing that saved Gans was Britt's impetuosity. Having downed the coloured man twice in the fourth round, Britt was excused hitting him after the bell because of the din but there was no excuse in the fifth and he was finally disqualified after hitting his rival who was in the act of rising from another knockdown. Britt continued to claim the title on the grounds that the action of the referee was unwarranted and that, in the eyes of most Californians, he was still the champion.”
The first indication of this in the Californian press is the Nov. 19, 1904, edition of the San Francisco Chronicle, where Britt is attempting to negotiate a match with former featherweight champion Young Corbett, whom he bested once before. Britt was quoted as saying to Corbett “You must remember that when we fought before you were the champion…I want you to know that I am the champion now…”
The Britt and Young Corbett fight in November didn’t materialize. Instead, Battling Nelson fought Corbett and knocked him out in the tenth round. Britt and Nelson then agreed to meet in a battle of premier lightweights, it was first called the "lightweight championship of America" in the Dec 19, 1904 Boston Globe. The question now becomes “How did the Britt-Nelson fight on Dec. 20, 1904, in San Francisco, come to be regarded as a contest for the ‘world lightweight championship’ in the official Ring, IBHOF, and British Boxing Board record books?”
The answer is found in the Dec. 20, 1904, edition of the Boston Globe: “Britt is the acknowledged lightweight champion of America. The decision Gans got over him, on a foul, is not considered seriously. The greater number of sporting men are convinced that the fight was a fake, and giving the decision to Gans did not help the colored boxer any. Britt showed that he was Gans’ master and that was enough. The fight tonight, therefore, is for the lightweight championship.” The San Francisco Chronicle in the Dec. 21, 1904, issue reiterates this claim: “In the opinion of the sporting men at ringside. The victory (of Britt over Nelson) carried with it the lightweight championship of the world. Gans showed in his fight with Britt that it is an impossibility for him to make 133 pounds ringside and remain strong. The lightweight limit is 133 pounds ringside. Before last night’s bout it was generally agreed that Britt and Nelson were the best men in the world at this weight.”
Not only is the above statement unfounded and unjust, other newspaper accounts make it clear that while the press was upset with Gans’ win over Britt in the short term, in the long term they came to grips with Gans’ victory and continued to recognize him as champion. The Jan. 17, 1905 San Francisco Chronicle says of Gans “his claim on the lightweight title has placed him in a position to dictate weight to prospective opponents.” This demonstrates by newspaper accounts that Gans was still considered as lightweight champion at the beginning of 1905 even by the Californian papers. After his second fight with Mike “Twin” Sullivan, Gans said in Jan 20, 1906 Chronicle, “I will make 133 pounds” against Jimmy Britt, “I can do that now” proving he still considered himself lightweight champion, which means he never gave up the title.
The Feb 4, 1905 'National Police Gazette', which is considered an authority on fistic matters reported, "Nelson and Gans Will Fight For Title" this is barely over 3 months after the Gans-Britt fight and about 6 weeks after Nelson lost to Britt in December. The Gans-Nelson fight didn’t come off at that time but the Police Gazette continues to report Gans as the champion. It seems Britt is claiming that he is the champion also, although Gans is still the recognized champion, note the following headline, Mar. 18, 1905 Gazette, "Jabez White is Here to Fight Jimmy Britt, or Joe Gans for the Worlds Lightweight Title."
Gans made the weight against Britt in their Oct 31, 1904 fight. He won and kept his title. For Britt or anyone else to claim “Gans can no longer make the lightweight limit” is guesswork. Do we strip champions of titles for guessing that they may not be able to make the weight the next time they fight? Clearly not. In fact, Gans made weight for subsequent lightweight championship fights, including Gans-Nelson bouts one through three, a rematch with Jimmy Britt (which incidentally Gans won by knockout) and other post 1906 bouts.
The press and public continued to recognize Joe Gans as lightweight champion. The racist “white lightweight championship” as it is referred to in The Boxing Register on Nelson’s record, between Britt and Nelson, was not taken seriously at the time. Consider the statement of San Francisco fight promoter Jim Coffroth, (Ring Magazine May 1943), "Gans greatest misfortune was that he lived in the low purse days of pugilism, and that he was sadly mismanaged. I can cite no better illustration of this than to point out in 1906, when Gans, then champion of the world, agreed to take a $10,000 guarantee of a $30,000 purse, agreeing that Battling Nelson, the challenger, was to get $20,000."
The argument that the Britt-Nelson affair was for the world’s lightweight championship is just not true. First, the idea that Gans couldn’t make the weight so he gave up the title comes from Britt, and is clearly false. Secondly, the notion that Britt “should” have won is absurd; what we are discussing is the official record, and the official record clearly shows that Britt was disqualified for hitting Gans while he was down. Consequently, the Britt-Nelson fight should be recorded in record books as nothing more than a “title claimant” bout, a bout where a white fighter claims a title that justly belongs to a black champion. When The Boston Globe referred to Britt as the "lightweight champion of America" as in the Dec. 19 edition, what it really means is the "white lightweight champion." The Boston Globe admitted that Gans was the true champion before the first Gans-Nelson fight. One must realize that Joe Gans was the first African American to hold a world championship. This was over 40 years before Jackie Robinson broke through in major league baseball.
(By Monte D. Cox)
....................
In both the 'Ring Record Book' and 'The Ring: Boxing The 20th Century' it is found that Gans relinquished the title in November 1904, “because of difficulty making the weight.” No exact date of the forfeiture is given in either source. The reason for this omission is simple – there is no date because there is no record to be found in any newspaper account of his era quoting Gans as saying that he gave up his lightweight title.
In an 'Illustrated History of Boxing' (Fleischer and Andre p 300) it is found that “Jimmy Britt claimed that Gans had declined to make weight and thereby forfeited his title.” The problem with Britt's claim is that Gans clearly did make the weight. Press accounts prove that Gans’ weight was a big issue in the days preceding the fight, but the fight nevertheless took place on Oct. 31, 1904, in San Francisco, as a lightweight championship match. The Oct. 28, 1904, San Francisco Chronicle reported that “Last night along the line there were all sorts of discussions upon this weight problem …it is the consensus of opinion that the colored lad is in for a hard time trimming off the surplus poundage. This being the first fight Gans ever made at 133 pounds, ringside.” The weight of 133 pounds, however, should not be considered as set in stone for the lightweight limit as the Frank Erne-Gans title fight of two years previous the combatants had agreed to a higher weight limit. Nat Fleischer wrote, (BD, 153) "The contest was for world lightweight championship and the men agreed to scale at 136 pounds." This fact is backed up by newspaper accounts; the Chronicle May 13, 1902 reported, "The weight for the bout was 136 pounds ringside." The now accepted weight limit of 135 pounds became standard a few years later, after Willie Ritchie won the title in 1912.
The Oct. 21, 1904, Chronicle reported the two fighters’ managers would meet at Harry Corbett’s to “discuss the question of the referee of the championship battle between Gans and Britt.” The Oct. 23 Chronicle wrote “To the casual visitor to Gans’ camp the lightweight champion looks a trifle drawn.” Gans himself said in the same issue “If Britt wins from me I hope he will abandon all his talk about the color line. If I am beaten the lightweight championship goes to him.” Clearly both the press and Gans considered himself champion going into the Jimmy Britt fight.
The controversy over Gans’ record seems to result from the way Gans won the fight with Britt – Britt fouled Gans in the fifth round and was disqualified. Britt was warned throughout the fight several times for fouls, including hitting low. The Nov. 1 Chronicle quoted referee Eddie Graney as saying, “He hit Gans three times while he was on his knees and there was only one thing that could possibly be done,” i.e., disqualify Britt.
Gans, then, retained the title by foul. At no time did Gans say he relinquished the title. After the fight, Gans told the Chronicle (Nov. 1, 1904) “I shall not give him a return match for two reasons. His fouls were so open that he is not entitled to another match, but besides that I am convinced I cannot be strong at 133 pounds, ringside.” Though admitting he was weak, he never said he gave up the title. He merely said that he couldn’t be strong at that weight, excusing what was reported to be an admittedly weak performance against Britt. But performing badly does not mean he lost, as we will see later on. But despite his performance, the Nov. 2 Chronicle had Gans’ manager, Al Herford, making this offer: “I will match Gans against Britt at 134 pounds ringside and will guarantee a purse of 15,000 at Baltimore.”
The November newspaper clippings on microfilm reveal that at no time did Gans abdicate the lightweight title or say he will no longer campaign at lightweight. There is no evidence whatsoever that Gans ever relinquished the title. The Nov. 19, 1904 National Police Gazette reported "Joe Gans and Jimmy Britt May be Matched Again for a Purse and The Lightweight Championship." If Gans was no longer going to fight at lightweight then why was he trying to negotiate a second Britt fight for the title?
The idea that Gans gave up the title in November 1904 seems to come from Jimmy Britt, who sought to rewrite the record books and erase his loss by appealing to the sentiments of the white press. Britt took Gans’ statement to mean that he could no longer make 133 pounds, leading Britt to believe he was to be the rightful champion. Britt claimed this because he believed publicly that he was the better man in the fight and “should” have won. This fact is backed up in Nat Fleischer's 'Black Dynamite' (172) "Britt and his adherents refused to yield. They declared the action of the referee was unwarranted and Britt in the eyes of the Californians was still the champion.”
The British Boxing Board of Control Boxing Yearbook 2002 on page 230 seems to quote Fleischer with the following reference:
“1904. 31 October Joe Gans W Dis 5 Jimmy Britt , San Francisco, USA. For over two years Britt had disputed the title, firstly drawing the 'colour bar' and later claiming that Gans was incapable of making 133 lbs. However, while Gans proved he could make the weight for this one it obviously left him weakened, something that was painfully exploited by Britt. The only thing that saved Gans was Britt's impetuosity. Having downed the coloured man twice in the fourth round, Britt was excused hitting him after the bell because of the din but there was no excuse in the fifth and he was finally disqualified after hitting his rival who was in the act of rising from another knockdown. Britt continued to claim the title on the grounds that the action of the referee was unwarranted and that, in the eyes of most Californians, he was still the champion.”
The first indication of this in the Californian press is the Nov. 19, 1904, edition of the San Francisco Chronicle, where Britt is attempting to negotiate a match with former featherweight champion Young Corbett, whom he bested once before. Britt was quoted as saying to Corbett “You must remember that when we fought before you were the champion…I want you to know that I am the champion now…”
The Britt and Young Corbett fight in November didn’t materialize. Instead, Battling Nelson fought Corbett and knocked him out in the tenth round. Britt and Nelson then agreed to meet in a battle of premier lightweights, it was first called the "lightweight championship of America" in the Dec 19, 1904 Boston Globe. The question now becomes “How did the Britt-Nelson fight on Dec. 20, 1904, in San Francisco, come to be regarded as a contest for the ‘world lightweight championship’ in the official Ring, IBHOF, and British Boxing Board record books?”
The answer is found in the Dec. 20, 1904, edition of the Boston Globe: “Britt is the acknowledged lightweight champion of America. The decision Gans got over him, on a foul, is not considered seriously. The greater number of sporting men are convinced that the fight was a fake, and giving the decision to Gans did not help the colored boxer any. Britt showed that he was Gans’ master and that was enough. The fight tonight, therefore, is for the lightweight championship.” The San Francisco Chronicle in the Dec. 21, 1904, issue reiterates this claim: “In the opinion of the sporting men at ringside. The victory (of Britt over Nelson) carried with it the lightweight championship of the world. Gans showed in his fight with Britt that it is an impossibility for him to make 133 pounds ringside and remain strong. The lightweight limit is 133 pounds ringside. Before last night’s bout it was generally agreed that Britt and Nelson were the best men in the world at this weight.”
Not only is the above statement unfounded and unjust, other newspaper accounts make it clear that while the press was upset with Gans’ win over Britt in the short term, in the long term they came to grips with Gans’ victory and continued to recognize him as champion. The Jan. 17, 1905 San Francisco Chronicle says of Gans “his claim on the lightweight title has placed him in a position to dictate weight to prospective opponents.” This demonstrates by newspaper accounts that Gans was still considered as lightweight champion at the beginning of 1905 even by the Californian papers. After his second fight with Mike “Twin” Sullivan, Gans said in Jan 20, 1906 Chronicle, “I will make 133 pounds” against Jimmy Britt, “I can do that now” proving he still considered himself lightweight champion, which means he never gave up the title.
The Feb 4, 1905 'National Police Gazette', which is considered an authority on fistic matters reported, "Nelson and Gans Will Fight For Title" this is barely over 3 months after the Gans-Britt fight and about 6 weeks after Nelson lost to Britt in December. The Gans-Nelson fight didn’t come off at that time but the Police Gazette continues to report Gans as the champion. It seems Britt is claiming that he is the champion also, although Gans is still the recognized champion, note the following headline, Mar. 18, 1905 Gazette, "Jabez White is Here to Fight Jimmy Britt, or Joe Gans for the Worlds Lightweight Title."
Gans made the weight against Britt in their Oct 31, 1904 fight. He won and kept his title. For Britt or anyone else to claim “Gans can no longer make the lightweight limit” is guesswork. Do we strip champions of titles for guessing that they may not be able to make the weight the next time they fight? Clearly not. In fact, Gans made weight for subsequent lightweight championship fights, including Gans-Nelson bouts one through three, a rematch with Jimmy Britt (which incidentally Gans won by knockout) and other post 1906 bouts.
The press and public continued to recognize Joe Gans as lightweight champion. The racist “white lightweight championship” as it is referred to in The Boxing Register on Nelson’s record, between Britt and Nelson, was not taken seriously at the time. Consider the statement of San Francisco fight promoter Jim Coffroth, (Ring Magazine May 1943), "Gans greatest misfortune was that he lived in the low purse days of pugilism, and that he was sadly mismanaged. I can cite no better illustration of this than to point out in 1906, when Gans, then champion of the world, agreed to take a $10,000 guarantee of a $30,000 purse, agreeing that Battling Nelson, the challenger, was to get $20,000."
The argument that the Britt-Nelson affair was for the world’s lightweight championship is just not true. First, the idea that Gans couldn’t make the weight so he gave up the title comes from Britt, and is clearly false. Secondly, the notion that Britt “should” have won is absurd; what we are discussing is the official record, and the official record clearly shows that Britt was disqualified for hitting Gans while he was down. Consequently, the Britt-Nelson fight should be recorded in record books as nothing more than a “title claimant” bout, a bout where a white fighter claims a title that justly belongs to a black champion. When The Boston Globe referred to Britt as the "lightweight champion of America" as in the Dec. 19 edition, what it really means is the "white lightweight champion." The Boston Globe admitted that Gans was the true champion before the first Gans-Nelson fight. One must realize that Joe Gans was the first African American to hold a world championship. This was over 40 years before Jackie Robinson broke through in major league baseball.
(By Monte D. Cox)
Two weeks after knocking out Red Burman in Madison Square Garden, Joe Louis stepped into Convention Hall in Philadelphia to face Gus Dorazio, his third “bum“ in as many months. But Louis was never happy with the disparaging label reporter Jack Miley pinned on his opponents. “Those guys I fought were not bums,” he told Art Rust, Jr. “They were hard-working professionals trying to make a dollar, too. I knew the training they went through, and I knew the dreams they had. No different than me. I respected every man I fought.”
Louis may have respected Dorazio, but he would have to go a long way to find someone else who shared his sentiments. Betting lines fluctuated and neared lottery odds before finally settling on Dorazio as a 15 to 1 underdog. James P. Dawson of The New York Times called Dorazio “…one of the most harmless challengers Louis, or any other champion of recent years, for that matter, has ever faced.” Even Pennsylvania Senator John J. Haluska, a former amateur boxer, called the match a farce and threatened a congressional hearing. In response, Dorazio promised to knock Louis through the ropes and into the lap of Senator Haluska. Rarely are wish fulfillment scenarios so farfetched.
Ticket prices, scaled from $1.25 to $5.75, were indicative of the second-rate show promoter Herman Taylor thought the fight would be. Dorazio, on the other hand, was as chipper as ever. “I’ve been training for three weeks now and I’ll be in top form when I meet Louis,” Dorazio told the Associated Press. “I can’t lose. I always fight best against the good boys.”
On February 17, 1941, Gus Dorazio entered the ring against Joe Louis for the chance of a lifetime. Even a strong losing effort would make him a hero throughout Pennsylvania. Anything less than that and Dorazio faced the possibility of being a laughing stock. Indeed, Dorazio seemed acutely aware of his reputation in the days leading up to the fight. “All the money in all the banks in Philadelphia couldn’t make me climb into that ring Monday night if I thought I couldn’t win,” he told the newswires. “Not with all those people looking at me.” Of course, if he won, his rough and tumble life would be changed forever. 15,902 fans jammed Convention Hall to see if he could do it.
When the bell rang for round one, Louis, 203 ½, and Dorazio, 193 ½, met at ring center. Dorazio was counting on his crouching style, in theory–if not exactly in practice–similar to that of Nathan Mann and Arturo Godoy, to fluster Louis, and it did–for all of a minute. Louis looked awkward sailing shots over his ducking opponent early in the opening round, and Dorazio, to the astonishment of the Milky Way, even managed to land several hard body shots as well as a flicking left hook. But Louis remained unflustered. Midway through the first round “The Brown Bomber” started to reach his target and Dorazio began to resemble a man staggering through Tornado Alley. Still, it was a fairly good round for Dorazio, and he returned to his corner in high spirits. During the rest period Dorazio told his trainer Jimmy Wilson that Louis was not nearly as tough as advertised. “I’m going out and stiffen him,” he said. But it was Dorazio who would wind up stiff.
Round two began with Dorazio squatting so low that he resembled Arturo Godoy in disguise. He exchanged a few jabs with Louis and rushed in without consequence. A little over a minute into the round, Dorazio popped up from his crouch and Louis straightened him up with a left hook. Then he stepped forward and connected with a short straight right that landed with the force of a Howitzer. “Dorazio,” reported Ted Meier, “fell flat on his face completely senseless.” The Philadelphia tough guy was counted out by referee Irving Kutcher while struggling to regain his feet. He had to be carried to his corner by his seconds.
Despite the humiliating knockout defeat, Dorazio continued his career, now losing nearly as often as he won. His record after the Louis fiasco includes an upset of Joe Baksi and decisions over Gunnar Barlund and Harry Bobo, but the TKOs started to mount and the scar tissue lining his brows began to split with revolting ease. He was still an attraction in Philadelphia, however, and thousands paid to see him war with the likes of Melio Bettina and Turkey Thompson. By 1943 Dorazio was under the management of the infamous Blinky Palermo, numbers king of Philadelphia and close associate of Frankie Carbo, and was hitting the road more often where spotty decisions often went against him.
In 1946 Dorazio, with his career in a deadfall, was convicted of draft dodging after the FBI discovered that his job as a wartime welder was strictly “no show.” He was sentenced to a year in prison. After his release, Dorazio mounted a dismal comeback before retiring for good in 1946 with a record of 77-20-5.
In retirement Dorazio revealed a bleak entrepreneurial side that included numbers running, leg-breaking, and armed robbery. But it was as a union goon that Dorazio found himself in existential trouble. In 1949 Dorazio lost control while performing his duties as an enforcer at the C. Schmidt and Sons Brewery in Philadelphia. Ostensibly a bottler at the plant, Dorazio was really hired muscle for the mob. The vicious beating he gave to Albert Blomeyer, 33, on January 27, 1949 proved to be fatal. Blomeyer, a bottler who had been circulating pro-labor petitions at the brewery, died of a fractured skull after Dorazio was through with him. Did Dorazio miscalculate the amount of force he needed to teach Blomeyer a lesson? Or did he just snap at the wrong time? When collared by detectives at his home in Yeadon, Dorazio spluttered out an impromptu, pre-Miranda Rights defense: “”People had been taunting me,” he said. “They called me punch drunk. They called me on the phone to heckle me. I just got the notion to get even with someone.” His outburst, negligible as a defense, seems odd in light of the circumstances. Did Dorazio slip over the edge and take out the frustrations of his life on Albert Blomeyer?
None of this, of course, made any difference to his open and shut case. The evidence against Dorazio was overwhelming and it took less than an hour for a jury to find him guilty of second-degree murder. Dorazio spent nearly three and a half years in notorious Eastern State penitentiary. After being released, he drifted in and out of both jobs and trouble for the next decade. Dorazio slowed down when a chronic back injury suffered during his days as a boxer flared up and forced him to collect disability. Never far from his mind, it seemed, was the fight with Joe Louis.
In his later years, out of work and with a reputation for being slightly punchy, Dorazio would repeat his claim that he would have beaten “The Brown Bomber” in a rematch to whoever would stop and listen. When Louis died in 1981, The Philadelphia Inquirer sought Dorazio out for an interview. “I still dream of that fight,” he said. “I was sure I could beat Louis, and in the first round I hurt him. I know I’d have beaten him if I hadn’t left my feet throwing a hook and he nailed me. I could’ve handled him–honest.” Gus Dorazio died in 1987, more than 50 years after he first stepped into the Waltz Dream Arena.
(by Carlos Acevedo)
Louis may have respected Dorazio, but he would have to go a long way to find someone else who shared his sentiments. Betting lines fluctuated and neared lottery odds before finally settling on Dorazio as a 15 to 1 underdog. James P. Dawson of The New York Times called Dorazio “…one of the most harmless challengers Louis, or any other champion of recent years, for that matter, has ever faced.” Even Pennsylvania Senator John J. Haluska, a former amateur boxer, called the match a farce and threatened a congressional hearing. In response, Dorazio promised to knock Louis through the ropes and into the lap of Senator Haluska. Rarely are wish fulfillment scenarios so farfetched.
Ticket prices, scaled from $1.25 to $5.75, were indicative of the second-rate show promoter Herman Taylor thought the fight would be. Dorazio, on the other hand, was as chipper as ever. “I’ve been training for three weeks now and I’ll be in top form when I meet Louis,” Dorazio told the Associated Press. “I can’t lose. I always fight best against the good boys.”
On February 17, 1941, Gus Dorazio entered the ring against Joe Louis for the chance of a lifetime. Even a strong losing effort would make him a hero throughout Pennsylvania. Anything less than that and Dorazio faced the possibility of being a laughing stock. Indeed, Dorazio seemed acutely aware of his reputation in the days leading up to the fight. “All the money in all the banks in Philadelphia couldn’t make me climb into that ring Monday night if I thought I couldn’t win,” he told the newswires. “Not with all those people looking at me.” Of course, if he won, his rough and tumble life would be changed forever. 15,902 fans jammed Convention Hall to see if he could do it.
When the bell rang for round one, Louis, 203 ½, and Dorazio, 193 ½, met at ring center. Dorazio was counting on his crouching style, in theory–if not exactly in practice–similar to that of Nathan Mann and Arturo Godoy, to fluster Louis, and it did–for all of a minute. Louis looked awkward sailing shots over his ducking opponent early in the opening round, and Dorazio, to the astonishment of the Milky Way, even managed to land several hard body shots as well as a flicking left hook. But Louis remained unflustered. Midway through the first round “The Brown Bomber” started to reach his target and Dorazio began to resemble a man staggering through Tornado Alley. Still, it was a fairly good round for Dorazio, and he returned to his corner in high spirits. During the rest period Dorazio told his trainer Jimmy Wilson that Louis was not nearly as tough as advertised. “I’m going out and stiffen him,” he said. But it was Dorazio who would wind up stiff.
Round two began with Dorazio squatting so low that he resembled Arturo Godoy in disguise. He exchanged a few jabs with Louis and rushed in without consequence. A little over a minute into the round, Dorazio popped up from his crouch and Louis straightened him up with a left hook. Then he stepped forward and connected with a short straight right that landed with the force of a Howitzer. “Dorazio,” reported Ted Meier, “fell flat on his face completely senseless.” The Philadelphia tough guy was counted out by referee Irving Kutcher while struggling to regain his feet. He had to be carried to his corner by his seconds.
Despite the humiliating knockout defeat, Dorazio continued his career, now losing nearly as often as he won. His record after the Louis fiasco includes an upset of Joe Baksi and decisions over Gunnar Barlund and Harry Bobo, but the TKOs started to mount and the scar tissue lining his brows began to split with revolting ease. He was still an attraction in Philadelphia, however, and thousands paid to see him war with the likes of Melio Bettina and Turkey Thompson. By 1943 Dorazio was under the management of the infamous Blinky Palermo, numbers king of Philadelphia and close associate of Frankie Carbo, and was hitting the road more often where spotty decisions often went against him.
In 1946 Dorazio, with his career in a deadfall, was convicted of draft dodging after the FBI discovered that his job as a wartime welder was strictly “no show.” He was sentenced to a year in prison. After his release, Dorazio mounted a dismal comeback before retiring for good in 1946 with a record of 77-20-5.
In retirement Dorazio revealed a bleak entrepreneurial side that included numbers running, leg-breaking, and armed robbery. But it was as a union goon that Dorazio found himself in existential trouble. In 1949 Dorazio lost control while performing his duties as an enforcer at the C. Schmidt and Sons Brewery in Philadelphia. Ostensibly a bottler at the plant, Dorazio was really hired muscle for the mob. The vicious beating he gave to Albert Blomeyer, 33, on January 27, 1949 proved to be fatal. Blomeyer, a bottler who had been circulating pro-labor petitions at the brewery, died of a fractured skull after Dorazio was through with him. Did Dorazio miscalculate the amount of force he needed to teach Blomeyer a lesson? Or did he just snap at the wrong time? When collared by detectives at his home in Yeadon, Dorazio spluttered out an impromptu, pre-Miranda Rights defense: “”People had been taunting me,” he said. “They called me punch drunk. They called me on the phone to heckle me. I just got the notion to get even with someone.” His outburst, negligible as a defense, seems odd in light of the circumstances. Did Dorazio slip over the edge and take out the frustrations of his life on Albert Blomeyer?
None of this, of course, made any difference to his open and shut case. The evidence against Dorazio was overwhelming and it took less than an hour for a jury to find him guilty of second-degree murder. Dorazio spent nearly three and a half years in notorious Eastern State penitentiary. After being released, he drifted in and out of both jobs and trouble for the next decade. Dorazio slowed down when a chronic back injury suffered during his days as a boxer flared up and forced him to collect disability. Never far from his mind, it seemed, was the fight with Joe Louis.
In his later years, out of work and with a reputation for being slightly punchy, Dorazio would repeat his claim that he would have beaten “The Brown Bomber” in a rematch to whoever would stop and listen. When Louis died in 1981, The Philadelphia Inquirer sought Dorazio out for an interview. “I still dream of that fight,” he said. “I was sure I could beat Louis, and in the first round I hurt him. I know I’d have beaten him if I hadn’t left my feet throwing a hook and he nailed me. I could’ve handled him–honest.” Gus Dorazio died in 1987, more than 50 years after he first stepped into the Waltz Dream Arena.
(by Carlos Acevedo)
“My oh my, wasn’t Joe Walcott a tough boy! He was the hardest hitter I ever met. Never before or never since then have I been hit as hard and as often as that night, and I never landed more blows on a fighter in fifteen rounds than I hurled into Joe Walcott that night. The house was in an uproar before the first round ended and from then until the end of the fight the customers never sat down." - Sam Langford.
(enhanced photo courtesy of CBS contributor JTheron)
Although I have fought more than 60 opponents, I will never forget my bout at Warrington with Joe Curran of Liverpool. I consider this my most thrilling contest. It was unusual how the fight came to be fixed up.
Early in 1936 I was told that I was to meet Laddie Hines of Colne, and I was looking forward to an interesting tussle, as Hines had a good record. Then we in the North got a severe shock when news came through that Laddie had died suddenly. Hardly had the announcement been published when I was informed that Joe Curran had been engaged as a substitute.
Curran was fighting impressively, and I trained hard, hoping to keep up my winning form. For the second time the show was cancelled owing to the country going into mourning through the death of His Majesty King George V.
However, the promoter managed to overcome a series of problems, and the contest took place at catch-weights over 10 rounds. I knew that I would have to put up my best display, because Curran has a reputation of being a crafty boxer.
I began confidently. Unfortunately, I was too confident. In the second round I came close to defeat. Such a result would have been disastrous at that vital stage of my career. A strong punch put Curran on the boards for a long count. Thinking that Joe had been close to a knockout, I went in to finish the fight. Then came a thrill for the crowd, but not for me! Everything appeared to go black. Joe had evidently been resting, and had taken full advantage of the long count.
Seeing me uncovered, he swung a smashing blow, which, I learnt afterwards, caught me flush on the jaw and I collapsed. Everything that happened from this stage and in the following rounds until the start of the eighth session seemed like a dream - and a blank one at that!
After seeing Curran on the canvas I remember nothing until I heard the time-keeper shout, "Seconds out; eighth round!" I had fought five rounds without knowing it! But my supporters told me later that I had done well during the "blank rounds". Crafty Curran nearly did the trick.
I put everything I knew into the remaining rounds, and fortunately did not fall into Curran's trap again. I got the verdict, but Curran taught me a lesson - never to be too sure of oneself. Although Curran did not get the decision, he can say that he is the only boxer to put me down for a count.
(Peter Kane)
..................
Born on 28th February 1918 in Heywood, Lancashire, UK, Peter Kane was a blacksmith in the neighbouring district of Lowton, and lived in a bungalow on Liverpool Road, Pewfall, near St Helens for most of his professional career. Following in his father's footsteps, he began boxing at 16 years of age and took the professional name 'Kane'. He went on to win lasting fame as a boxer, and became World Flyweight Boxing Champion in 1938.
The video below is from the later 1942 bout between Kane and Curran, the final bout in their trilogy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84eMh5UV87g
Early in 1936 I was told that I was to meet Laddie Hines of Colne, and I was looking forward to an interesting tussle, as Hines had a good record. Then we in the North got a severe shock when news came through that Laddie had died suddenly. Hardly had the announcement been published when I was informed that Joe Curran had been engaged as a substitute.
Curran was fighting impressively, and I trained hard, hoping to keep up my winning form. For the second time the show was cancelled owing to the country going into mourning through the death of His Majesty King George V.
However, the promoter managed to overcome a series of problems, and the contest took place at catch-weights over 10 rounds. I knew that I would have to put up my best display, because Curran has a reputation of being a crafty boxer.
I began confidently. Unfortunately, I was too confident. In the second round I came close to defeat. Such a result would have been disastrous at that vital stage of my career. A strong punch put Curran on the boards for a long count. Thinking that Joe had been close to a knockout, I went in to finish the fight. Then came a thrill for the crowd, but not for me! Everything appeared to go black. Joe had evidently been resting, and had taken full advantage of the long count.
Seeing me uncovered, he swung a smashing blow, which, I learnt afterwards, caught me flush on the jaw and I collapsed. Everything that happened from this stage and in the following rounds until the start of the eighth session seemed like a dream - and a blank one at that!
After seeing Curran on the canvas I remember nothing until I heard the time-keeper shout, "Seconds out; eighth round!" I had fought five rounds without knowing it! But my supporters told me later that I had done well during the "blank rounds". Crafty Curran nearly did the trick.
I put everything I knew into the remaining rounds, and fortunately did not fall into Curran's trap again. I got the verdict, but Curran taught me a lesson - never to be too sure of oneself. Although Curran did not get the decision, he can say that he is the only boxer to put me down for a count.
(Peter Kane)
..................
Born on 28th February 1918 in Heywood, Lancashire, UK, Peter Kane was a blacksmith in the neighbouring district of Lowton, and lived in a bungalow on Liverpool Road, Pewfall, near St Helens for most of his professional career. Following in his father's footsteps, he began boxing at 16 years of age and took the professional name 'Kane'. He went on to win lasting fame as a boxer, and became World Flyweight Boxing Champion in 1938.
The video below is from the later 1942 bout between Kane and Curran, the final bout in their trilogy.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=84eMh5UV87g
June 20, 1940. New York. - Arturo Godoy, the Chilean challenger, walks to his dressing room after a futile fight to lift Joe Louis' heavyweight title. Arturo weathered almost seven rounds at Yankee Stadium without much damage; using the same crouch and cling tactics which carried him through 15 rounds of his first fight with the Brown Bomber. But Joe caught him right as the seventh round was ending. Arturo dropped. From then on it was a question of time, and not much time either. Arturo was dropped twice in the next round and referee Billy Cavanaugh stopped the bout to award Joe Louis technical knockout victory in one minute 24 seconds of the eighth round. Arturo may not have a title-but he is not entirely undecorated-notice his battered face.
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