The Boxing Biographies Newsletter

The Boxing Biographies
Newsletter
Volume 9 – No 1 18 April , 2013
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Moorhead Daily News
23 August 1930
ENGLISH LIGHTWEIGHT LOOMS
AS TOUGH BOXER TO TROUNCE
By ROBERT EDGREN
Jack Berg, the sensational English lightweight who gave Kid Chocolate of Cuba his first ring
trimming, should be a dangerous opponent for Al Singer, new lightweight champion. There isn't
any doubt in the world that Berg will give Singer a fight, and it's no secret that Singer isn't at his
best against a fast man who never stops hitting.
Singer lost to Kid Chocolate in 12 rounds last August. And Ignacio Fernandez, who crowded the
present king of all the lightweights, viciously enraged by being struck low, knocked Singer out in
three rounds three months before that. No doubt Singer has improved a lot in the past year, and
has the confidence that comes to any man who knocks out a champion, but that doesn't prove he
can beat the British whirlwind. Singer looked like Terry McGovern in the quick knockout of
Mandell, but he isn’t always such a punching wonder. Eight of his fights last year, aside from the
one he lost to Kid Chocolate, went 10 rounds to a decision.
Jack Berg was a sensation in his first fight in a New York ring. On May 10, last year, he met the
clever and hard hitting Bruce Flowers at the garden. Everyone thought the little English boxer
would be just a set-up for Flowers. If Bruce had any such notion it was quickly knocked out of
him. Berg swarmed over Flowers with the first rush, and kept up a rushing, slam-bang attack that
kept Flowers on his heels. Flowers tried to use his boxing skill to stand Berg up for a knockout
punch, but finally gave it up and stood toe to toe slugging with the smaller white-skinned fellow
who was buzzing around him stinging like a hornet. I remember, sitting at the ringside, round
after round I said to myself: "This can't go on — nobody can stand such a pace. There's never
been anything like this since Bat Nelson, and Bat wasn't half as fast," But it did keep on. Berg
finally forced Flowers to give up trying to slug with him, hammered Flowers wobbly, and had
the crowd standing on the chairs and war whooping like twenty thousand bughouse Indians
before it was over.
Popular with Fans
That fight made Berg. Everyone who saw him wanted, to see him again. He had put on a fight
that WAS a fight — a whale of a fight. The two went on again — had to — there wasn't another
fight in New York that created any interest until they did. In fact, they fought again in 13 days.
This time Flowers knew what was coming, and while he stayed the 10 rounds and only lost
another decision he did very little monkeying with the human buzz saw.
Jack Berg has gone right on winning fights. They can't stop him. Can't even hinder him. He
doesn't look like a fighter — looks more like a poet — but how he can fight!. He hasn't a wicked
kayo wallop, but he hits hard enough, and plenty often. He can take the hardest punches, lean in
against them and keep on coming. He took scores of Chocolate's best on the chin, and nobody
ever said Chocolate couldn't hit. He was every bit as fast as the Cuban flash, and as clever, in a
different way.
Battling Nelson used to boast he was the only fighter who could fight at top speed and never
grow arm weary. Bat said: "I'm not human. I don't tire and punches don't daze me." Berg could
say that, and he might add that he doesn't have to keep up a doggedly aggressive pace to go
through a fight without tiring. He can fight at top speed and turn on a little more juice for the last
round. As for feeling punches — he hasn't shown any sign of feeling them yet. It may possibly
be different if he feels the kind of a punch that Al Singer laid on Mandell's chin. But that remains
to be proved, and it is one of the things that makes a possible SingerBerg match an attraction. In any case Singer won't have 'to fight the Cuban Flash again to prove
it. He has a man of his own weight who can give him a fight.
Stanley Ketchel, one of the greatest middleweight champion, had the ability to fight at top speed
even when fights went over 20 and over 30 rounds, like his fights with Joe Thomas. But Ketchel
had something else — a terrific punch. He didn't often have to go through a long fight. It took
Thomas to make him do that, and he ruined Thomas. Jim Jeffries, in his prime, never showed a
sign of slowing up or growing weary in a fight. But he cut out a deliberate pace. There was the
old Iron Man, Austin Rice, of Terry McGovern's day — absolutely tireless and punch proof. And
Joe Bernstein, pride of the Ghetto, and Elbows McFadden, who wore out Joe Gans.
In New York a few years ago we had another of those iron men — who would have been a good
match for Berg. He was Battling Hurley. How that kid could tear in and never stop throwing
punches! He didn't care what happened to his face. He didn't feel a sock on the chin. But in a year or
so he got the most bedecorated map I ever saw in a ring. He was hammered lopsided by walking into
punchen, even if he did go and knock the punchers out. In another year they had Hurley slowed up
and feeling punches—plenty, and then he faded from the picture. I always was sorry for that kid. His
handlers didn't care what happened to him, as long as they got the money, and it wasn't big money in
those days, either.
Moorhead Daily News
11 April 1931
Jack Dempsey said he'd never fight again, and a few days later stood right up in a Chicago court
and offered to fight Harry Wills "any time the promoters put up that million dollars they
offered." Well, you couldn't blame Dempsey for changing his mind if there's that much profit in
it.
Jack Dempsey never could be the iron fisted ring tiger he was when he battered the gigantic
Willard into a helpless hulk. But he could be a very good fighter if he wanted to come back, even
now. Dempsey is only a year older than Bob Fitzsimmons was when Bob knocked out Jim
Corbett for the world's championship. He is four years younger than Fitzsimmons was when he
put up the greatest fight of his life, battering the greatest heavyweight champion of them all, ,
Jim Jeffries, to a bleeding pulp in that San Francisco ring, smashing both hands in the vain effort
to crush big' Jeff down, and being knocked out himself only when both hands were gone.
Dempsey is only a year older than Jim Corbett was when Jim startled the world by fighting 23
fast rounds against champion Jeffries at Coney Island, before Jeff caught him and knocked him
out.
There isn't any reason why Dempsey couldn't get into shape to fight one of the short bouts of
today, 10 or 15 rounds, against any heavyweight now in sight. He'd have a lot of trouble with a
clever youngster like Stribling, and Schmeling, with his combination of rugged endurance and
good fighting judgment, would not be an easy mark. I'd place a come-back Dempsey, if he was
well handled in his training, a 50-50 chance with either of these two, even today. He'd beat
Camera because be could easily beat Camera to the punch. He'd beat a lot of them if he wanted
to try.
Wills Washed Up
As for Dempsey's fighting old Harry Wills, that would be just a joke. It wouldn't have made a
fight five years ago, when the match was on and the promoters couldn't find a state that would
stand for it.
Wills was washed up when Sharkey whipped him, and long before that —but nobody knew it.
He had to hold and wrestle through bouts and he couldn't take a punch or land one without
holding his target motionless with the other hand—his favorite trick.
Paolino finished Wills in four rounds just four years ago, and that knockout proved Wills was
entirely through. The big colored fighter went groggy as soon as Paolino tapped him on the chin,
and when he reeled around after a first knockdown the Spaniard socked him on the jaw again and
he went down as if he'd been hit with a hammer. Four years ago Wills couldn't take a punch. Oh,
yes a crowd might turn out to see Dempsey and Wills fight in Chicago, just out of curiosity and a
desire to see Dempsey in action again—but not at seat prices in proportion to a million dollar
purse. Might have done it five years ago, but not now. Last time I saw Dempsey, a few months
ago he was in fine condition for a man not in training to fight. He had some fat around the face
and neck, but his body wasn’t out of shape. He always keeps in pretty good shape, and it's easy
because he is so full of nervous energy that he never stands still. He's always moving around,
briskly. He can't stay on one spot. He's driven by a restless spirit that won't let him loaf, and
that's why he hasn't put on a lot of weight like other retired fighters. He weighed just 210 pounds.
That isn't too much for a man built like Dempsey, out of training for a long time.
Over trained for Tunney
When Dempsey trained for his comeback fight with Tunney he trained himself. And he drove
himself through a training schedule fit for Dempsey of the Toledo days. He worked too long and
too hard. If he tried to fight again, and put himself through the same schedule, he'd have nothing
left to fight with.
But a foxy and experienced trainer like old Jimmy DeForest could take Dempsey in hand for two
months and send him into the ring fit to go as fast as he'd need to go for 10 rounds, without any
trouble at all.
If Jim Corbett could go at top speed with the young champion Jim Jeffries for 23 rounds before
his legs grew tired Dempsey could easily go 10 or 15. Corbett knew how to train for a wonderful
comeback. He worked a long time, but, didn't kill himself. He trained back to astonishing
condition and fooled everybody.
And Corbett in those days never lived as carefully as Dempsey has all his life. Dempsey,
properly advised, could do the same thing.
Dempsey could come back to some pretty good fighting if he wanted to. Chances are he doesn't
want to and the offer to fight Wills was just part of his legal battle. It was pretty well qualified
with the reference to a million dollars. But any man with Dempsey's experience and record and
habit of moving around and keeping in good shape should not be through with the ring under 40,
if he cares to go on boxing.
Fitzsimmons fought his last ring battle, six rounds to no decision, with K. O. Sweeney when Fitz
was 52 years old. Fitz was 41 when he beat George Gardner in 20 rounds for the world's light
heavyweight championship. He broke the first two knuckles of his right hand in the fourth,
knocking Gardner down with a clout above the ear, and fought the remaining 14 rounds with one
hand. Otherwise it wouldn't have gone 20 rounds.
The only reason Dempsey hasn't been fighting since his last Tunney fight is that he has plenty of
money. In the past year he has made over $200,000 as a referee, breaking all records for referee
earnings. And as long as he can do that chances are he won't fight again, even if offered a lot of
money. I am told that Dempsey was scheduled to fight Carnera, a few months ago, but that
Carnera's poor showing against Maloney killed that "million dollar proposition" deader than Tutank-hamen's cat. It would be fun to see the old Mauler against the biggest beef he ever socked, at
that.
Moorhead Daily News 18 April 1931
There has been a lot of talk about the "slump" in boxing and much theorizing about what can
possibly be wrong with the good old game that made popular world heroes of such characters as
John L. Sullivan, Bob Fitzsimons, Jim Corbett, Jim Jeffries, Jack Dempsey, Joe Gans, Terry
McGovern, etc., etc.
One of boxing's troubles was over promotion. A good fighter might be worth what Jeffries and
Corbett drew at the gate back in 1903, which was a modest $63,340. But it is impossible to think
that a "championship contest" of only 10 rounds can by any miracle be worth $2,658,660, same
being the amount paid in at the ticket offices when Dempsey and Tunney had their return match
in Chicago. The first was a championship match, at a 20 round distance, and the men earned
what they got when the winner's and loser's end together amounted to $43,68. Compare that to
the $990,445.54 Tunney got at Chicago, and get a laugh.
Big Purses Have Gone
Tex Rickard showed a bit of his genius for promoting when he offered the first record breaking
purse, $101,000 for the Jeffries- Johnson fight at Reno. He was clever when he startled the sport
world by offering half a million for the Dempsey-Carpentier fight. He figured everybody who
had carfare and the price of a ticket would want to be part of the crowd paying the biggest gate
money ever paid for a sporting event. He put the same thing over, still bigger at Philadelphia and
then at Chicago. But Chicago was the blow-off. Nobody could ever expect to be chipping in on a
bigger gate than that.
The big money part of the ballyhoo fell flat, and the result showed in the next title fight Tex ran.
Tunney and Heeney only drew $691,014 when they fought in New York. I'm indebted to Frank
Mencke's record book for these figures, so they are correct. Frank always had a genius for
hunting down statistics instead of contenting himself with a rough guess. Rickard lost a lot of
money on that Tunny-Heeney fight, and it was an indication of the fact that people were weary
of contributing.
Over promotion of the big money idea was slipping fast. When Rickard went it went with him.
Promoters following Rickard tried to put things over in this style, and flopped. They had to try to
think up something new. That's where the latest form of over promotion set in. The behemoth
craze started. Judging from the present conditions it will be short.
Somebody got the idea that a man so big he couldn't be knocked out by any ordinary
heavyweight could be taught how to hold his hands like a fighter and take a few boxing steps,
and be ballyhooed right into a championship. It was tried with Carnera, the six foot seven inch
Italian. After a little experience in England and France Carnera was brought to New York and
the ballyhoo began.
They advertised the wonders of Camera's bulk, even to the size of his shoes. Naturally they
exaggerated a little. They said he was six feet 10 and weighed 285 pounds when trained to the
leanness of a greyhound. That was a bit awe inspiring. Then Carnera was sent on a knockout
tour, opponents being set up like pins in a bowling alley. The Chevalier affair showed up the "K.
O. record," and Jimmy Maloney spoiled all the delusions about Camera's invincible bulk.
Jose Santa of Portugal, six feet nine was next to be brought over, The big advertised feature
about Jose was that he was taller than Carnera. He is less bulky than Carnera, weighing only 265
pounds, and if he knows anything about boxing it hasn't yet been discovered by the eyewitnesses.
But he is traveling around and cashing on the six feet nine.
Tex Rickard had a lot of sense in working up his trade. He didn't use Willard until Willard was
champion. His idea was that good fights between well matched heavyweights with some skill
interested the fight public more than exhibition of freaks. The biggest man he ever developed
was just an ordinarily big man — not a freak.
What interest could there be in a fight between a real giant lacking boxing ability and invincible
just because of his bulk, and a first class 200 pound fighting man? If any promoter thinks the
public would like to see that sort of thing I suggest that he send a purchasing agent to Mongolia
to buy him a real giant. There is a tribe of fighting men in the wilds of Mongolia who run from
seven to 10 feet in height. Many of them are between nine and 10 feet. They are well built and
have great strength. They are swordsmen and hire themselves out as fighters, and they feel very
superior to ordinary men five or six feet tall. Back where they live there are no machine guns yet
and the sword and spear are still in use. One of these 10 foot fellows would probably weigh at
least 600 pounds without carrying any fat, and a punch like Dempsey's wouldn't even annoy
them. So if the giant is the thing why not import a real one?
Boxing is like any other sport, interesting while it is a game of skill.
We've had some pretty good big men. Jeffries, weighing from 204to 225 in perfect condition,
was a very clever boxer and a good clean puncher. He was no freak. Willard was a corking boxer
when he beat Jack Johnson at Havana. He weighed 243, which was very low weight for him, but
he was no clumsy elephant at that.
But what a lot of big men we've seen who couldn't fight I remember Bob Fitzsimmons training to
fight Jeffries. He had Yank Kenney and took great delight in tapping Yank on the chin and
knocking him flat for the amusement of the spectators at the training camp. "See," Fitz would
remark, " E's a bigger man than Jeff and 'e' goes down." But Fitz didn't explain that Yank had a
glass jaw and a middleweight could knock him out.
A few years ago a huge lumberjack was found in British Columbia. He was the strongest man in
the northwest. He could do four men's work. They tried to make him a fighter. He looked like a
million dollars. He knocked out a few set ups who didn't know any more about it than he did.
Then he met a sailor. The sailor knocked him kicking in a round—back to lumbering.
Let the big beefy boys take up wrestling. They only spoil the boxing game. Or if they will fight,
let 'em fight each other.
Moorhead Daily News 16 July 1931
In one of the most sensational finishes seen in a heavyweight championship fight in many
years. Max Schmeling knocked out Young Stribling in the 15th round, with less than 20
seconds to go. From the beginning of the sixth round, when Joe Jacobs sent Max out with the
warning: "You've got to fight—it looks bad,"
It was Schmeling's fight all the way except in spots here and there. In the mere matter of
landing blows Stribling scored well enough, but his hardest and most perfectly placed
smashes on chin and body had no effect at all on the man of iron from Germany. Nothing
seemed to hurt Max. He was hit by enough to knock out a dozen ordinary men, and his
knees never shook. He was socked on the point of the chin with vicious uppercuts, and he
grinned. The grin increased as the fight went on.
The finish in the 15th round followed such a desperate attempt by Stribling from the 10th
round on not only to stay on his feet but to win with one last furious blow that the
Georgian's gameness will never be questioned. He gave everything he had but life itself, and
it was not enough.
Missed Blows
For four rounds Stribling had been barely lasting through to a desperate finish. He was so
tired that he missed many blows, but now and then he gathered for a furious effort and sent
his gloves whizzing to the mark with a force that brought yells from the crowd.
It was evident to 40,000 spectators in the huge stadium that Stribling was intent on lasting to
the limit, using all the skill he had and yet was trying every moment to get over the decisive
blow that was no longer in his weary muscles. Even his legs were going slow. When he
went into Schmeling he leaned up against him. He was so weary that he was ready to drop,
but still he fought on. His mouth and nose were bleeding, his eyes half closed and eyebrows
slashed by the German's gloves. But his blue eyes still stared steadily and grimly through the
red mist.
Schmeling was perfectly fresh. He might have been starting the first round, but for a half
closed left eye. He danced around on his toes. He kept advancing with quick little steps. Just
as he had advanced round after round from the beginning of the fight.
Rips Uppercut
Stribling missed several blows as that last round started. Then he ripped an uppercut to
Schmeling's chin that should have shaken him to his heels. Again a desperate right uppercut.
And it did no good at all. Didn't even push the German back or stop his little dancing steps.
Stribling ripped a left hook into Schmeling's belly and fell up against him. clinching. There
had been almost no clinching in the fight, and thus was only a second or two.
Max jabbed two little dabbing jabs at Stribling's face. Stribling wasn't even pulling his head
back now. Blood was smeared all over him. His face was a mask of blood. Stribling,
desperate, swung a terrific right uppercut. At least it looked terrific. It nearly lifted Max from
his feet. Schmeling, with a savage grunt, hooked his left to Stribling's jaw. Stribling staggered
and reeled back his legs crossing so that he nearly fell. But he reeled back again and tried
another uppercut. Max drove him away with a jab and followed, as he had followed round after
round, like a big cat. Stribling staggered and threw his right with every ounce he had left, at
Schmelings jaw. It missed. As Willie half turned Max shot that short right to hit jaw, grunting
again , shot it with a sudden fury, leaping forward on his toes. The blow caught Stribling flush
and hurled him backward through the air. He half twisted as he fell. His head banged against
the lower rope in his own corner and he sprawled there on his face.
It was the first knockdown in the fight — and a terrific knockdown. No one thought
Stribling would ever get up from that crashing fall. He rolled and rocked on the floor,
crawled to his knees, came rocking to his feet.
Hesitates
There must be some mercy in Schmeling for all his grinning. For a single instant he seemed
to hesitate, unwilling to hit again. Stribling lurched forward and tried to strike. Max clipped
him Strib's rubber mouth guard flew through the air. His head wobbled and he reeled back
into the ropes, hands down. Again Strib lurched forward, blue eyes steadily fixed on
Schmeling, but hands dangling at his sides.
George Blake stepped between and held up Schmeling's hand. It might have been murder for
the iron man to strike another blow. Stribling stood still as if stunned by the ending of his
hopes. The German, laughing, picked him up with both arms around his waist and started
to carry him to his corner. But Pa Stribling was in the ring. Max turned Willie over to his
dad. The timekeeper announced the time. "Technical knockout—two minutes and forty
seconds of the 15th round."
20 Seconds to Go
Only 20 seconds to go. Willie Stribling, who had fought 292 fights and knocked out 127 men,
had been knocked out himself for the first time in his life. He stood there and you could see
this thought struggling through his dazed mind turned and held out his hand to the
champion.
It was not all Schmeling, even if he didn't take a backward step in the whole fight. Not all
Schmeling if he did move forward through round after round, crouching like a big cat about
to leap. Stribling, while his strength lasted, put his mark on the Iron champion. In the first
round Stribling was a master boxer. He made Schmeling miss, and he jabbed and hooked
and uppercut him. Near the end of the round he partly closed Max's left eye with a wicked
right hook. Stribling had the first, the second and third rounds, with a big lead. In the third
he stagger:ed Max with a ripping right on the jaw and outboxed him all the way.
The fourth was even and desperately fought. There was no holding, no wrestling, no stalling.
The fifth was hard fought and even. Stribling hit Max with everything, and it didn't do a bit
of good. The man of iron ate punishment. He took it with a smile. Sometimes the smile
looked a bit theatrical. But perhaps it was real. Still Stribling had taken a big lead and was
holding it. Then in the sixth Schmeling really began to fight. He drove Willie back with hard
right hand smashes to the jaw. He really began the fight. He followed like a big cat. Stribling
was forced to back away continually, but he backed away fighting. In the seventh Stribling
was bleeding from nose and mouth and his eyes were rimmed in blood smeared there by
Schmeling's gloves. Still he was fighting steadily.
It was in the eighth round that the tide of the fight definitely turned. Stribling began to look
tired. His legs were as good as ever, but his arms were weak. Schmeling was much stronger.
Although the boy from Georgia fought with desperation he was forced to take more and
more punishment.
Schmeling had learned how to block nearly all of Stribling's blows. He kept his right glove
high and picked them off. In the last half minute of that round Stribling cut loose with a
wild, reckless rally, rocking Schmeling with rights and smashes on the jaw. The crowd,
hoping in spite of all that one of these blows might make an American champion, rose from
its seats and shook the stands with wild yells. And Stribling took the ninth round. But it
was his last time to be in front.
In the 10th he was punched badly, cut and bruised, his mouth out of shape, his eyes glinting
blue through lakes of red. He was very tired and looked weak. There was nothing in his
punch to hold Schmeling back. Now and again he held for a moment to let go when
Blake ordered a break. He pushed Schmeling into the ropes and tried to tie his hands, fairly
falling against him in weakness.
The champion laughed when Stribling's gloves landed on him. There was no hurt in them
now. Max was fresher in each round, and more eager. He tried furiously for a knockout. The
only wonder was that Stribling stayed on his feet. Willie was missing through sheer
weakness, falling forward out of position, clutching to stop the blows that come flailing back
at him.
It will take a tough man to beat this German champion. There isn't a man in sight, at this
time, who can turn the trick. He may not be great in the training quarters, but he's great in a
fight.
Best Since Rickard
It was a good fight, and as a spectacle the best since Rickard's time. The big stadium was only
half filled, and the gate receipts announced after the bout ran only to $335,000 net. But as a
spectacle it was hard to beat.
Mick Hill has recently produced a worthy
book on the English Prize Ring. For those
of you that don't know Mick, he has long
held an interest in boxing, and in
particular, the days of bare-knuckle
fighting. Mick has produced a 200-page
book on the prominent boxers of the
eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and
he has ensured that many of the lesserknown names of this period are included,
in the form of mini-biographies.
There are nearly 80 pugilists featured
within the book and some of them will be
new to even the most fervent follower of
boxing during the bare-knuckle age. Two
of the first three names included within
the book, for instance, are Tom Pipes and
Bill Gretting, and it is a welcome change
to see the stories of men such as these
recorded.
As well as producing a page on each
boxer which describes their achievements
Mick has also taken the trouble to
produce their fighting record and virtually
all of them also have an illustration.
Another welcome addition is the inclusion
of the nickname, and so many of these
boxers were well-known by their nickname. As an example, the exploits of Jeremy Massey aka
"The Stunted Lifeguardsman" can be followed on page 184 and, as well as the biographical
details relating to his career, which are spread across two pages, one call also see full details of
his fight record. 18 contests are listed for the period between 1842 and 1856 and one will find
that Massey was once proclaimed the "Best in the land at Featherweight".
It is a nice little book and would be a welcome addition to the bookshelves of a boxing
bibliophile. The price is £13.99.
To purchase a copy please order from www.fastprint.net/bookshop or Amazon. On Amazon
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Famous-Pugilists-English-PrizeRi/dp/178035505X/ref=sr_1_25?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1365594385&sr=125&keywords=bareknuckle+boxing
Or to contact Mick direct please email bare-fists45@virginmedia.com
Peter Crawley (Champion of England 1827)
Born: 1799 Died: 1865
“Young Rump Steak”
Born in Newington Green, London in 1799, Peter Crawley got the nickname “The Young Rump
Steak” working as a butcher’s boy. He grew into a 6’ feet muscular man who weighed around
182lbs. in his prime and was reputed to be a skilful, strong and durable fighter.
His first recorded fight, a turn up, was in 1815 against Pat Flannigan at Whitecross Street,
London and resulted in victory for Crawley after only 15 minutes. In 1816 and 1817 he fought a
total of ten known fights and turn ups, mostly in the London area, all resulting in wins before he
was matched against Tom Watson in February 1818 at Gough Square, London and after two and
a half hours the glove fight was declared a draw. Crawley then took on Ben Sutcliffe in his first
recorded paid fight in August 1818 at Rushey Farm, Kingston, winning in 7 rounds and then
March 1819 saw him defeated for the only known time in his career when he lost in 14 minutes
to the experienced Tom Hickman “The Gasman”, at Moulsey Hurst, Surrey. He then went on in
May 1822 to batter to defeat a man known only as Southern’s Bully, at Chester Racecourse
during the Chester Fair and then proceeded to beat Dick Acton at Blindlow Heath in May of
1823. He also fought a few other fighters in the same year, whether they were genuine prize
fights or turn ups there is now no trace.
Crawley now wanted to fight Jem Ward for the Championship of England but couldn’t find a
backer to put up the purse money until 1826 and so in early January 1827 the two met at
Royston, Hertfordshire to fight for the title. Ward started well and threw Crawley in round 7, but
the challenger began to continuously use his powerful left jab into Ward’s body and face until
another powerful left rendered Ward unconscious in round 11, so introducing Peter Crawley as
the new Champion of England. Two days later Peter Crawley announced his retirement from the
ring and because of this Jem Ward refused to hand over the championship belt, stating that he
would never give it up to anyone who was not active in the ring. Crawley refused to meet Ward
in the ring again and in fact Peter Crawley never did fight in the ring again, so Jem Ward
reclaimed the title and looked around for a suitable challenger, which presented itself in the form
of Jack Carter. After he retired Peter Crawley ran a pub and taught boxing, dying at 66 in 1865.
1815
Pat Flanagan, Whitecross Street, London W 15min.
1816-1817
Bill Hunt, Long Fields, London (turn-up) W 3r. 10min.
Jack Bennett, Clara Market, London D 15min.
Tom Price, Clara Market, London W 20min.
Bill Coleman D
Clare Market John W 19r.
Harry Buckstone (turn-up) W
Tim McCarthy, Long Fields, London W 20min.
Tom Tyler, Kent Road, London (turn-up) W 1r. 1min.
Shirley’s Carman, Warwick Lane (turn-up) W 30min.
Big Drayman, Whitecross Street, London W 4r.
1818
Tom Watson, Gough Square, London ND 150min.
Ben Sutcliffe, Rushey Farm,
Kingston-upon-Thames W 7r. 10min. £40
1819
Tom Hickman, Moulsey Hurst, Surrey L 13r. 14min. £100
1822
Southern’s Bully, Chester Races (gloves) W 50min.
1823
Dick Acton, Blindlow Heath? W 13r. 16min. £100
1824
Won several minor fights.
1826
Unknown Engineer, London (private fight) W
1827
Jem Ward, Royston Heath, Herts. W 11r. 26min. £100
Won the Championship of England and retired two days later.
Johnny Broome
(Acclaimed as the best in the land at lightweight 1841-1842)
Born: 1818 Died: 1855
“Young Duckro”
With no recognised claimant as the best lightweight in the land after Owen Swift retired, the
leading men vying for top position by 1840 were Sam Merryman, Tom Maley, Johnny Hannan,
the promising Johnny Walker and Johnny Broome. Now 24, standing about 5’ 7” and weighing
138lbs. Broome was undefeated in seven fights starting with Tom Ellis at an unknown venue
near Birmingham around 1832. He then went on to defeat Bill Howell, drew with Jack Hunt and
then beat Charles Spilbury, Bob Gallett and the experienced Charlie Jones, all around the
Birmingham area from 1833-1839 and although hardly known in London, Broome was highly
rated around his own area in the Midlands.
In 1840 Broome travelled up to Glasgow to face the highly respected James McGinty, defeating
him in a terrific and long 71 round fight At just under 140lb. Broome was a bit on the heavy side
for a lightweight, but he fought the top class heavyweight Joe Bostock, a man two stone heavier
than himself and knocked Bostock out in 12 rounds at Early in Warwickshire later that year. Jack
Hannan, a master ring general, was considered the top dog in the London area having twice
defeated the up and coming and highly rated Johnny Walker, although Walker was just starting
out on his road to fame. After a certain amount of quibbling over a weight limit that was
agreeable to both of them, as Hannan was a lighter man, Broome and Hannan eventually met in
January 1841 at New Park Farm, Oxfordshire for a reputed £1,000 purse in what was considered
to decide the top lightweight in the country. It turned out that Broome’s longer reach was too
much for Hannan from the outset and Jack Hannan took heavy punishment, until after 47 rounds
he had fought himself to a standstill and being in a terrible physical state, could not continue.
Jack Hannan never fought again and because he was getting married, Johnny Broome also
retired, with Johnny Walker assuming Broome’s accolade of best lightweight by defeating Fred
Mason over 63 rounds in January 1842.
Broome’s retirement did not last long however as he was challenged by John Gorrick, an
Australian who had arrived in England and although not an aborigine by birth, fought under the
name of “Bungaree” an aborigine name. But Bungaree was no match for Johnny Broome when
they met up in April 1842 at Mildenhall, Suffolk and he was defeated in 42 rounds of a fight that
only lasted 52 minutes. With this win Broome retired for good this time round and became
landlord of the Rising Sun, Piccadilly in London. He was also a respected match-maker whose
outstanding protégé was his younger brother, Harry, a future Champion of England.
Johnny Broome died at the age of 37 unbeaten in the prize ring
Undated
Tom Ellis, Birmingham W 6r. 30min. £10
1833
Bill Howell, Allerbury Common, Worcs. W 9r. 75min. £10
1834
Jack Hunt D 220min.
1835
Charles Spilsbury, Sutton Coldfield,
W. Midlands W 30r. 63min. £20
1838
Bob Gallett, Witton, Worcs. W 9r. 35min. £20
1839
Charley Jones, Woore, Cheshire W 31r. 36min. £100
1840
James McGinty, Glasgow W 71r. 153min. £60
Joe Bostock, Early, Warwicks. W 29r. 47min. £100
1841
Jack Hannan, New Park Farm, Oxon. W 47r. 79min. £1000
Now acclaimed as the best lightweight in the country.
1842
John Gorrick, Newmarket, Suffolk W 42r. 57min