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.

I remember when Lionel Rose arrived in Los Angeles. I was 16-years-old at the time and had read a lot about Rose and wanted to watch him train. I had no idea that less than a year later I would have a chance to spar with Rose while he trained for his last title defense.

Chucho Castillo was the Mexican Bantamweight Champion and had defeated Edmundo Esparza, Jose Medel, Memo Tellez and Jesus Pimentel. You have to understand that in Mexico, being the Mexican Champion is more important than being the world champion. Often the Mexican Champion was, or would become, the World Champ. When Chucho Castillo stepped into the Forum ring to fight Rose for the title, he had the support of thousands of Mexican's who had spent hard earned money to travel to Los Angeles from below the border. They expected Castillo to return home with the title, and he almost did.

Rose and Castillo put on a great battle for 15 rounds. Rose boxed brilliantly, using his darting left jab and sharp counter punches to hold off the charging Castillo. Castillo landed the harder blows and in the 10th round floored the Australian which drove the Mexican fans crazy. "Chucho, Chucho, Chucho"" the fans chanted. However, Rose made it to his feet and went right back to his original plan. He held off the furious attack of the Mexican and continued to box. At the end of 15 rounds ring announcer Mario Machado read the verdict. Lionel Rose was awarded a split decision victory over Castillo. The Mexican fans went crazy and literally tore apart the brand new 18,000 seat Forum.

I had attended the match with one of friends, amateur heavyweight Al Boursse. This was one time Al and I were glad our seats were nowhere near the ring. After the decision was announced there was booing, then cups of beer were tossed toward the ring from way back. Then cherry bombs began to explode and fights started breaking out everywhere. Cushioned seats were slashed open and the stuffing set afire.

After Rose and Castillo left the ring, featherweights Dwight Hawkins and Fernando Sotelo were set to fight in a ten rounder. However, the crowd was so unruly the fight was halted after the third round to protect the fighters from all of the debris being tossed into the ring.

Al Boursse and I had come to see our stablemate Hawkins or we'd have left quickly after the title fight. When they stopped the Hawkins-Sotelo bout, Al and I headed up the aisle, away from all all the missiles being thrown down. People were pushing and shoving each other trying to escape. As we passed through a tunnel toward an exit we ran into another one of our stablemates, Ruben Navarro. Navarro said he knew of a short cut so Al & I followed Ruben back down to the floor and slipped out through the dressing room area. As we headed up the ramp to the parking lot we saw Canto Robledo, an old trainer who was totally blind. Robledo had been separated from his guide and had been hit with several bottles and was bleeding. Navarro took Canto by the arm and led him away from the trouble. Outside, cars were being tipped over and the riot squad was arriving just as we pulled out of the parking lot. All over a close decision.

Eight months later, in August of 1969, Rose returned to Los Angeles for another title defense. This time he would take on one of the greatest bantamweights of all-time, Ruben Olivares.

(by Rick Farris)

The confusing Joe Gans v Jimmy Britt World Lightweight Title story...
....................

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)

21 Jan 1948 - Joe Louis and Gene Tunney Sharing a Meal Together

Jimmy Slattery - he danced on his toes like a ballet dancer, his arms dangling at his sides, rifling fast and accurate punches through the tightest of defences.

In 1925, the year he fought for the World Light-Heavyweight Title (in September), he fought 19 fights - in that year alone...the year he turned 21 years old.

In the end he was another who was badly beaten by John Barleycorn.


...........................


He came out of Buffalo's old First Ward, starting as a long rangy kid in the Broadway auditorium, to become one of the smoothest, most efficient fighting machines in the world. The first pair of green trunks he ever wore in the ring were made by his mother; the bathrobe slung carelessly over his broad young shoulders was borrowed. He fought him, first professional fight for $40. Yet in a few swift ears, Jimmy Slattery's murderous left had clouted him a straight path to Madison Square Garden, where he eventually became the light heavyweight champion of the world and a heavy weight title contender. In his hey-dey, he was like the hero of some ancient Irish fable-a ring wise, black haired Irish imp who carried man made lightening in his gloves.

He was only 20 years old when he fought his first fight in the big time. Hoarse-voiced thousands that night in 1924 watched this dancing will-o'-the-wisp out-box. out-guess and outfight the veteran Jack Delaney. Yet within that same year the same Madison Square Garden crowd watched, agonized, while Paul Berlenbach, a huge hunk of ex-wrestler, belted Buffalo's golden boy all around the ring. The referee stopped the fight in the eleventh round after Berlenbach had smashed Slats to the canvas three times.

Despite this beating, though, he lived to win the title five years later when on February 10, 1930, he won a 15-round decision over another Buffalo fighter, Lou Scozza, in the Broadway Auditorium. But those were five fast years that only served to grease the skids for Slattery's ride bloom hailed a cab on Eighth Avenue and rode it nearly four hundred miles to a training camp up in the Adirondacks.

The vanishing act was another of his pet tricks; he'd drop out of sight regardless of circumstances. His manager, Red Carr, once lined up a big fight for Slats only to find that Slats was nowhere around. For five days he was gone. Police at Elkhart, Ind wired to Buffalo that he had been arrested for vagrancy. Another time-in New York-Slats told Carr he was going out to buy a hat. He was gone for half a week before he came back without the hat.

Once Slattery turned up missing in Venice. His companions were getting ready to have the canals dragged when they found him at 4 a. m., floating aimlessly around in an appropriated gondola.

Anyone could put the "bite" on him. That was another of his weaknesses That staunch heart of his was brimming with too much kindness. A buck? Sure. A fin? Sure. Fifty? Hell yes! He made more than that a second. So the gang hung on. Used his cars, his liquor, his money and used him for all he was worth. Once a delegation of 28 home-town pals dropped into his New York - hotel after a fight. They had spent all their money. How were they going to get home? Slats snapped his fingers. "Nothing to it," he said, and picked up the phone and ordered 28 Pullman berths for Buffalo.

What caused Slattery's rapid downfall as a fighter, as meteoric as his rise to fame? Maybe the trouble was too much too soon. Maybe it was a case of "too many parties and too many pals." One guess is as good as another. Slattery himself perhaps had the answer to the ride down. He once said that he'd give up fighting in a minute if he could play the piano. However, be never learned to play anything but the harmonica. Before Slat's first 15-round fight with Paul Berlenbach, the late Tex Rickard went to his dressing room with the idea of soothing, the nervous youngster. He found Slattery stretched out on the rubbing table trying, to play his harmonica with gloved hands.

But for a fighter who preferred music to mayhem, he made-and lost -a tidy fortune. In a career of 126 fights he earned and flung away $438,000. He could have been heavyweight champion of the world, according to most sports experts who saw him in action in his prime. Gentleman Jim Corbett made it a point to see every Slattery fight because, according to sports writers, he saw his own greatness mirrored in the lean Irishman. Gene Tunny has called him the greatest natural boxer of those times.

Slattery boxed frequently with Tunney when the latter was getting into shape for his second Dempsey fight during one furious session, Slats sent Tunney sprawling through the ropes. Newspaper stories said Tunney "slipped," but Slattery's followers have always maintained that it was a clean punch that nearly knocked the heavyweight champ out.

Slattery fought his last professional fight on August 22, 1932 in Offermann Stadium. He was knocked out in the second round by Charley Belanger, Canadian light-heavy weight champion.

(by Ed Dunn)

Aside from there being a whopping 65 losses on his record, “The Croat Comet” Fritzie Zivic, was one of the “dirtiest” boxers in ring history, perhaps the dirtiest, even though, as the record shows, he was never disqualified. As a result, his reputation suffered. Everyone understood what Zivic was about. Tough, canny and clever, he was a master at the dark art of errant elbows and well-timed head butts, discreet low blows and painful thumbs to the eyes. Zivic didn’t try to deny it either. As far as he was concerned, this amounted to standard procedure. Pugilism was a rough business and when it came to foul tactics, boxers had to be ready to both take it and dish it out.

“I’d hit guys low,” admitted Zivic. “Choke ‘em or give ‘em the head. My best punch was a left hook to you-know-where.”

Zivic’s career began in 1931 and by 1940 he had yet to earn a title shot, his inconsistency preventing the public from viewing him as a legitimate threat. But a big win over Sammy Angott set him up nicely for a chance at Armstrong’s welterweight crown. And Zivic began dreaming about that big Cadillac he always wanted. With Henry Armstrong having already established himself as one of the greatest fighters in boxing history, a triple division champion with 18 straight defenses of his welterweight title, Fritzie was a big underdog. The day of the fight, Zivic went down to the Cadillac dealership to check out the latest models and give himself some extra motivation for the battle to come.

But the first several rounds of the match were not good for the challenger. The aggressive Armstrong looked as strong and capable as ever and seemed to be cruising to a record nineteenth successful title defense. Zivic, his reputation preceding him, sought to be extra careful about any unseemly tactics, and appeared inhibited.

“That night Henry’s givin’ it to me pretty good,” recounted Zivic... “And I can see that Cadillac rollin’ farther and farther away from me. Henry’s givin’ me the elbows and the shoulders and the top of the head, and I can give that stuff back pretty good, but I don’t dare to or maybe they’ll throw me out of the ring.”

Zivic in fact was pacing himself, as he had never gone 15 rounds and knew he had to have something extra for the late going; stopping the tough Armstrong inside the distance was simply not a realistic prospect. So entering the middle rounds, the challenger began to pick it up. He used hard uppercuts to perfection, nailing Armstrong repeatedly. And then he got the break he needed.

“In the seventh round I give him the head a couple times and choked him a couple times and use the elbow some, and the referee says: ‘If you guys want to fight that way, it’s okay with me.’ Hot damn! I told Luke Carney in my corner: ‘Watch me go now,’ and from there out I saw that Cadillac turn around and come rollin’ back.”

The bout turned into a bloody alley war. And while Zivic’s uppercuts were his prime weapon, his thumbs and laces to the champion’s eyes also took their toll. Going into the final rounds, the bout was deadly close, but the challenger closed the show. He battered a hurt and exhausted Armstrong mercilessly and with seconds left in the fight, put “Homicide Hank” on the deck. We’ll never know if Henry could have beaten the count; the bell rang to end the fight before he had the chance. Zivic took a close but unanimous decision.

It was a huge upset, but Fritzie Zivic didn’t hold the title for very long. He defeated Armstrong in a rematch and then lost the crown to Freddie Cochrane just six months later. But he held on to that big Cadillac for many years after.

(by Michael Carbert)

1923

Barbados Joe Walcott

One could imagine Henry McLemore, a staff correspondent for the United Press, rubbing his hands and licking his chops before hitting the keys of his typewriter after the second fight between Lou Ambers and Henry Armstrong. When something gets under a writer’s skin, as referee Arthur Donovan got under Mr McLemore’s, there is nothing quite so pleasurable as driving home the point with a good old lashing of sledgehammer wit.

Thus Mr McLemore wrote: “Arthur Donovan is the new lightweight boxing champion of the world. He is a bit fat for the title, particularly in the head. But he won it in Yankee Stadium last night. He won it for Lou Ambers by rendering a decision as questionable as a mongrel’s paternity.”

Never had Mr Donovan applied the rules of boxing quite so stringently, and a lot of bemused and angry reporters and fans were left wondering why. He took the second, fifth, seventh, ninth and eleventh rounds from Armstrong for fouling, and even Hank’s prodigious industry could not overturn so severe a handicap. Ambers became the world champion again by a unanimous decision.

It was a great pity that the contest was marred by controversy, as it featured two wonderful scrappers staging a magnificent fight. But for the penalties he incurred, Hank would undoubtedly have won. Lou, however, was no less impressive for his clever work and his fighting spirit.

Hank was ever relentless in his attacks, which just kept coming in waves. Yet throughout the terrific milling, Ambers was meeting the champion with a constant output of jabs, hooks and uppercuts.

Armstrong made a slow start to the fight, but found his momentum by the third round and began firing on all cylinders. Lou was all too happy to engage Hank and the two fighters ripped punches at each other at a formidable rate. Their heads banged together frequently in the furious exchanges and Hank picked up an injury to his right eye. He returned the favour when he cut Lou’s left eye in the fourth.

Such was the pace of the battle that the two warriors began to show tiredness in the eighth round, although only by their own exceptional standards. The crowd at Madison Square Garden loved what they were seeing. It was a stirring encounter between two naturally talented men whose styles and fighting pride blended perfectly.

There were no knockdowns, but Lou was very nearly felled in the fourteenth round when Hank spotted a fleeting opening and opened up with a terrific volley before Ambers could raise his guard. Armstrong’s sustained assault lasted for very nearly a minute as Lou staggered and tried to find a way out of the storm.

Outside the ring, Al Weill and Hank’s trainer Eddie Mead weren’t content to leave the fighting to their boys. Al and Eddie became embroiled in a heated argument over referee Donovan’s points deductions from Armstrong. Weill finally blew and shouted at Mead, “You’d better watch out if you keep that up!”

Armstrong and Ambers knew the fight was up for grabs by the time they came out for the fifteenth and final round. Neither man would let up as they dug each other with body shots on the ropes. Lou tagged Henry with a right to the face but took a solid right to the jaw in return.

Ambers suddenly had a phase where he caught Armstrong with a succession of lefts, while Hank misfired and seemed to be losing his way. But the wonderful Armstrong always found something when he needed to. He lost his mouthpiece after taking a couple of stiff rights, but steamed back at Ambers and was winging shots to Lou’s body at the bell.

The pro-Ambers crowd had no problems with the decision in their man’s favour, but trainer Eddie Mead was raging about the treatment to his man Armstrong by referee Donovan.

It was gorgeous grist to the mill from Eddie. “I’ll blow up boxing in this town,” he threatened. “Armstrong was penalised for every low tap, but Ambers was elbowing and thumbing throughout the fight and wasn’t even given a warning.”

Meads, of course, didn’t blow up boxing in New York. The old Empire State continued to flourish, the Garden continued to bloom and Henry Armstrong went on to become a living legend.


(by Mike Casey)

The fighter who dethrones a Pugilant Hero has a hard struggle to win popular acceptance thereafter, as readers of Pierce Egan have reason to know. The microcosm is a worshiper of demigods, like the larger world around it. Gene Tunney is belittled to this day, particularly by fans who never saw him, simply because he whipped Jack Dempsey. The names of the conquerors of Hannibal and Terry McGovern are seldom spoken. The cult of Napoleon envelops the globe, but only Tory biographers have a kind word for Wellington. One thing all these victors have in common is that they went into the ring as long shots; the man who demolishes a concept is never popular.

A protracted terra-cotta-colored prizefighter named Sandy Saddler, whose physique and profile remind me of a praying mantis, has labored under this handicap since the evening of October 29, 1948, four days before the Truman election, when he knocked out a quick-moving Italian named Willie Pep, of Hartford, in Madison Square Garden, and won the featherweight championship of the world. Pep was a 1–3 favorite going in; Dewey, as I remember it, was 1–15. It was to be a week of surprises, and the blushing experts never forgave either winner. Saddler, five feet eight and a half inches tall, was twenty-two and weighed a hundred and twenty-four pounds. Pep, who was twenty-six, is of a height more usual among featherweights—five feet five. Like Saddler he was under a hundred and twenty-six pounds; he had to be, because that is the class limit. Saddler floored the Hartford man twice in the third round and knocked him out with a left hook to the jaw in the fourth. Pep, after the third knockdown, was the theater of a visible psychomachy, or struggle between body and soul. Body won, and he stayed down. Knowing coves—in Egan’s phrase—who on the afternoon of the fight had coupled Pep and Sugar Ray Robinson as twin pinnacles on the horizon of the Sweet Science, announced after Pep’s defeat that he had been a hollow shell, which is a traditional ex-post-facto metaphor.

They even suggested that he had feigned, although his record made this implausible. He had won a hundred and thirty-four fights out of a hundred and thirty-six.

To me Saddler appeared to be what Egan would have called a first-rate bit of fighting stuff, but he never succeeded in making his detractors admit it. He fought Pep three more times—in 1949, 1950, and 1951. In the last two annual renewals he knocked the old champion out, but the critics said that the Pep of 1950 was the mere shell of a shell, while the Pep of 1951 was not even that; he was more like the murmur you hear when you hold a shell to your ear. By that time, Pep admittedly was a bit worn between the shoulder blades, but he was still the second-best featherweight in the world. Part of the public reluctance to accept Saddler is attributable to his height, which spectators feel gives him an undue advantage over his opponents. A moment’s cogitation on observed phenomena would tell them the opposite.

(by A.J.Liebling)