Knuckles and Gloves

CHAPTER XIII
LITTLE MEN

From the spectator’s point of view much of the interest of boxing (and almost all of it in amateur boxing), is purely dramatic. You can thoroughly enjoy—at least I can, and there are others—a really good fight apart from any science that may be displayed. For enjoyment of skill alone is in another dimension. Of course, there must always be enough science to enable the boxers to fight cleanly and tidily and without the appearance of two angry windmills. But greatly as science improves the complete interest and enjoyment of a fight, that kind of interest remains separate. For the admiration of skill appeals to your head, the drama, largely to your heart. And the drama in boxing arises from the fact that the encounter is a personal one, that two men are trying to hurt each other, at least physically to overcome each other (which amounts to the same thing) and to prevent the other from hurting, from dominating. There is no other sport in which the sense of personal combat is so manifest.

And it is partly because of this dramatic interest that heavy-weights—big men—have, as a rule, throughout two hundred years, attracted greater attention than the little men, except, of course, when little men have fought with big ones. Roughly, it is like this: if you want to see scientific boxing you choose a fight between feather or bantam-weights, if you want to see a good slogging match (but tempered with science, always) you choose a fight between middle or heavy-weights, preferably the latter. Of course, bantam-weights often do slog—much oftener indeed than do heavy-weights box twenty rounds of unexceptionable excellence. But I suppose there is magnificence in sheer bigness, and we like to see the big men fight. And that is why, for the most part, I have chosen heavy-weight encounters to represent the various periods in the history of the Ring.

It is impossible, or at any rate quite impracticable, to mention every boxer; it is not even practicable to mention more than a few. I should like to have described the fights of many of the lesser men in point of size—far better boxers, most of them, than almost any heavy-weight that ever lived. Names topple out of recent memory at random—Billy Plimmer, Pedlar Palmer, Joe Bowker, Charles Ledoux, Johnny Summers, Taney Lee, Johnny Basham, hosts of them. But there is one name that simply cannot be avoided in any book about any sort of boxing, the name of one of the best feather-weights and one of the fairest fighters that ever lived—Jem Driscoll.

Driscoll, who was formerly Feather-weight Champion of England, having won the Lonsdale Belt outright by three successful contests, had all the natural gifts of the boxer. His weight was 9 stone, or, at all events, generally within easy reach of it; his height 5 feet 6 inches. He was beautifully proportioned, slim, muscular, with the appearance of an all-round athlete. His science was unrivalled, and he was a perfect exponent of what one may still call the English style of boxing; that is, the style based upon the upright position and the conspicuous use of the straight left lead. Driscoll is Irish by extraction and Welsh by birth, and he loved fighting for fighting’s sake from his earliest childhood. He went in for and won various boys’ competitions at Cardiff, and, later, travelled with a booth; his only instructor being experience.

His two contests at the National Sporting Club with Spike Robson, of Newcastle, for the English Feather-weight Belt, are worth a brief note in order to show Driscoll at the height of his power. Robson was three or four years older, but a very tough customer, with any amount of pluck. The first match, which took place on April 18th, 1910, had been keenly anticipated for a long time beforehand, if only because everything in which Driscoll had a hand was worth seeing. You always knew where you were with Driscoll. He always hit clean, and for choice, straight. There was never any clinching to avoid punishment, never any getting on the “blind side” of the referee.

The first three rounds were level. Robson was a good boxer, a keen fighter, but he was neither so quick with his hands or feet as Driscoll. However, it was he who landed the first considerable blow in the fourth round, striking heavily on his opponent’s eye. In the fifth round he did a very foolish thing. There was something about his gay, elegant, upright and good-looking antagonist which irritated him. Driscoll was so indifferent, so imperturbable. He would smash him, he would spoil his face for him. The instant the bell rang for time he would catch Driscoll before he was clear of his corner, before, in fact, he was ready. That was the way to smash him—to give him no time to take up his position in the middle of the ring, with his left foot and arm out, nicely balanced on his toes. He’d show him. And he charged furiously head down across the ring like a terrier after his best enemy. And Jem Driscoll merely waited, until Robson was almost on him and then coolly stepped aside. It was beautifully done—no haste, no exertion, only the exactly right judgment of time. And Spike Robson couldn’t recover himself—he was going much too fast for that—and was brought up by crashing into the stool which the seconds had not yet been able to remove from Driscoll’s corner.

The edge of the stool cut his scalp severely as, from the fact that Robson was prematurely bald, was immediately obvious. He was half dazed, and had only sense for the rest of that round to clinch and lean on his opponent. The referee had to caution him severely for doing so. He had somewhat recovered in the next round, and in the seventh he was boxing well, though he had suffered a considerable shock. And Driscoll was boxing better, and would have been, I would venture to say, in any case and without the accident to handicap his antagonist. In the eleventh round Robson showed an inclination again to take a rest by leaning on his man in a clinch, and the referee observed with noticeable firmness. “Robson, I shall not tell you again.” And when they were once more at long range Driscoll sent in six blows, one after another with lightning speed and almost without a return. Such blows as these may not have been each very hard, but their cumulative effect was fatiguing and depressing. Robson got a very warm time in the next two rounds; but he was thoroughly game, and kept on returning to the fight every time that Driscoll drove him away at the end of his long left. To the spectator who does not watch a fight of this kind, between two small men, with a very vigilant eye, the end often comes with surprising abruptness. In this case, Robson had been getting a much worse time than it seemed to any but the most careful observer. Driscoll had done as he liked with him latterly, and instead of his blows gradually losing power, in spite of the fact that he had a cold and was not in the best possible condition, they were all the harder because weariness in the other man had made them safer, the openings more patent. At the beginning of the fifteenth round, Driscoll sent in a sharp left hook, followed immediately with a right, and Robson tumbled forward to the floor. He rose very slowly, needing all his determination to do so, and as Driscoll sent him down again, the referee stopped the fight. Robson was much more hurt than, until the last minute, he seemed: and it was some minutes before he fully recovered his senses.

The second encounter between these men, on January 30th, 1911, was a much shorter affair. Driscoll on this occasion was in perfect condition, and he knew the worst of Robson. To begin with, he boxed with extraordinary speed, and though his blows were light, they were many. There was an admirable example of his powers in the second round, for he sent over a right hook with great power, which Robson dodged, and which, had it been struck by a clumsier boxer, would certainly have left him clean open to a counter; but when Robson’s counter came in, as it did with commendable speed, Driscoll’s right was back in its place to guard it. Beyond that failure, Driscoll made no effort to knock his man out until the fifth round. He contented himself with left, left, left, not very hard but very wearing. Then in the fifth round he became a fighter again: and before Robson knew he was there he fell before a right-hander on the point of the jaw. Through the sixth round Driscoll, who never took a situation for granted and ever remained careful until he had been proclaimed the winner, boxed hard, but gave no chances. Left, right—left, right: his blows nearly all landed, and Robson’s blows were growing feeble and wild. In the seventh round he was palpably done, and Driscoll hit him as he liked, finally sending him down for six seconds. In the next round the referee decided that Robson had been hit enough. Towards the end Driscoll had been holding back and trying not to hurt his opponent. And that was Driscoll “all over.”

In writing of Driscoll, it is fitting that an international contest of his should be described in which he was matched against the Feather-weight Champion of France, Jean Poésy. This fight took place towards the end of Driscoll’s career, on June 3rd, 1912, at the National Sporting Club.

In his quiet way, Driscoll was confident of beating Poésy. They had seen each other, though not in the ring, but the English fancied his own chances merely from the “cut of his jib.” They were equal in height and weight, but Driscoll had the advantage of long experience. True, he was over thirty, but before the fight he declared that he could hit as hard and stay as well as ever he could.

So they entered the ring—the young Frenchman and the veteran. As ever, Driscoll showed that he was the master of scientific fisticuffs: he was wonderfully quick, and he could still take hard knocks without showing a sign. Poésy was no novice: he could box well and was not so foolish as to underestimate his opponent, as many a young ’un would have done. He began on the defensive, so that Jem Driscoll had to carry the war into the enemy’s country, and once more he showed he could outfight as well as outgeneral a good youth. There was never a question as to who would win, and in the end Driscoll left the ring without a mark, without having received a single damaging blow. All the same, it was an interesting fight, because of Poésy’s pluck and the English champion’s really amazing skill, which showed no falling off from his old high standard. He kept Poésy at long range, never leaving an opening for a knock-out blow, which the Frenchman soon saw was his only chance; never clinching or hugging. It is a pity that more men did not profit by his example. Poésy tried to get at Driscoll’s body. He had beaten Digger Stanley like that. But Driscoll understood in-fighting too, though for choice he boxed at long range. In the tenth and eleventh rounds Poésy woke up and fought like a little fiend. Some one called out from the crowd, “When Poésy does take it into his head to get a move on, you’ll see something.” But all the spectators saw was a ferocious, game, and persevering attack coolly frustrated; and the more the Frenchman attacked, the more he left himself open, so that Driscoll was now hitting harder and oftener than before. Poésy was in beautiful condition, and began the twelfth round with unabated ardour. He dashed at Driscoll and landed a really hard straight left on his jaw. That made Driscoll think for a moment, and he decided that it would not be well to risk too many of that sort. Almost immediately afterwards Poésy coming in, left himself open, and Driscoll knocked him clean off his feet with a right on the chin. The Frenchman gallantly struggled up in five seconds, obviously dazed. Driscoll feinted and dodged about this way and that, so that it was impossible to tell whence the next blow would come, and presently sent over another right which knocked Poésy out of time ... eight, nine, ten! Then Driscoll bent down and picked him up and carried him to his corner.

Not at any weight nor at any time was the Championship of England held by a better boxer or a straighter man.

One other little man—the littlest of all—must be mentioned, because, in the whole history of boxing there has never been any one quite like him—Jimmy Wilde, called in his younger days “The Tylorstown Terror.” This minute Welshman was born in 1892, and stands just over 5 feet 3 inches, and his weight is, at the age of thirty, recorded as 7 stone 6 lb. The photograph of him reproduced as an illustration to this book, suggests many things, but certainly not a bruiser who has knocked out alone (not to mention the more laborious method of beating opponents) over a hundred men, and who has fought several hundred battles. To see him, in or out of the ring, to observe his pallor and square-shouldered fragility, makes his record seem like a rather foolish fairy-story. He used to give stones away in weight where you would think he could hardly spare ounces. It is all very well for men like Tom Sayers, or Carpentier, to give away a little: they were fine strong men. But you don’t expect a chaffinch to attack an albatross.

Wilde is beautifully made in little and his strength is sheerly amazing, his hitting power, not only in relation to his size, terrific. He is a highly skilled boxer, but the might of his blows is almost magical. It is only the body’s weight behind the striking hand which makes a blow really hard—and what is seven stone?

Of course, Jimmy Wilde is a fighter by instinct, he enjoys a good mill, he has an abundant virility. His style is a little reminiscent of Driscoll’s, from whom he learned something in his youth. His ways are mainly his own, and he adapts his methods with wonderful cleverness to the needs of his size. To guard blows of a heavier man would soon wear him out. So he guards very little. He avoids. When an opponent tries to hit him, he is out of reach, just an inch beyond the extended arm of his antagonist.

Titles in the ring mean very little, but in Wilde’s case “Flyweight Champion of the World” is not to be despised. His contest with Alf Mansfield in May, 1919, at the Holborn Stadium, is worth a word, as showing the sort of task that this midget has repeatedly undertaken for the last ten or twelve years. Mansfield weighed 8 stone 4 lb., and stood half a head taller—sturdy, strong, a good boxer. In the second round Wilde went for him like a little fiend, and knocked him down for nine seconds. On rising, Mansfield could only hug his man to avoid the punishment which Wilde seemed literally to pour upon him. Mr. Corri, the referee, stopped the holding, and Mansfield, somewhat recovered, stood up and boxed pluckily. But the midget’s pace was amazing. He hit and hit again, one hand following the other at such a rate that the eye could scarcely follow, while it was quite impossible to count his blows. Mansfield was bewildered but brave, a good boxer and fast by ordinary standards, but dead slow with Wilde. And yet his hitting as hitting was worth more if only he could plant the blows. In the third round he put in a right which astonished his man and hurt him: and Wilde was much more careful after that. But it was Wilde who wore him out by oft-repeated blows, so that in the eleventh round he was unsteady on his feet, in the twelfth fell from sheer weakness, whilst in the thirteenth, after two severe rights, each of which knocked him down, Mr. Corri very properly decided that he had been hurt enough.

CHAPTER XIV
AN AFTERTHOUGHT

The Prize-Ring served its turn and passed; and modern boxing, roughly, fills the gap. At present we do not see why modern boxing should not go on indefinitely. For all that people say human nature has changed, does change, will persist in changing, and—we dare hope—for the better. By modern standards the Prize-Ring was brutal, just as the execution of young lads for sheep-stealing was brutal. The same issue of the Times in June, 1833, which reported the acquittal at the Hertford Assizes of Deaf Burke for the manslaughter of Simon Byrne (See Chapter XIV, Part I.), informed its readers that a man found guilty of stealing spoons to the value of 27s. had been sentenced to transportation for life. Human nature has rebelled against the greater brutality as it did against the less. And war is the ultimate expression of brutality in man, and as we have seen only too lately, a brutality which carried to its logical conclusion (or very nearly) surpasses anything in that sort that mankind has been guilty of throughout the ages. A case, you say, against the truth or hope or possibility of change in human nature? Not quite; for human consciousness did, even before the German war, begin to realise what war would mean, and since then has made, is making, genuine efforts to withstand the tide of what pessimists regard as an inevitable tendency.

But apart from war in which we now know that “fair play” is ridiculously impossible, a little friendly hurting of each other in a roped ring and cold blood will do no harm to any two men. Not as a preparation for the hardships of warfare, not necessarily as a means of self-defence, but in view of a fine ideal of physical fitness, the strain and pain of violent athletics should be perpetuated. And this, apart from the fun of the thing (which after all matters most) is the excuse and reason for amateur boxing. So let boxing be regarded as a sport, and let us leave it at that.

Old prejudices live with extraordinary vigour: and boxing—the very fact of it—the peaceful and positively harmless encounter of two men with well-padded gloves stirs the deepest rancour still. We are not surprised at this rancour in people who are not English, French, or American: most of us have to take their point of view for granted, because we find it so difficult to capture. We think that bull-fights are barbarous, and a friend of mine who organised an amateur boxing competition in Monte Video and tried to hire the bull-ring for the purpose was prohibited by the Uruguayan authorities because boxing was—barbarous. You come up against a brick wall sometimes, and you can’t see through it, so it’s not the slightest good trying to explain the plants which grow on the other side.

But in England, and in America too, the prejudices of the “righteous overmuch,” in fact, the prejudices of the Puritan tradition against the Prize-Ring have lived on to regard modern boxing in a similar light. My personal prejudice against overmuch righteousness and the Puritan tradition make the gist of my researches into the history of the Prize-Ring and of professional boxing a very nasty pill to swallow, very painful to digest. I don’t know that I ever hoped to disprove calumnies, for I had always supposed that there was no reason, but a mere love of softness and Pleasant-Sunday-Afternoon respectability behind these objections to boxing. But, as a matter of fact, I have found, to my disgust, that there is much to be said for the “respectable” view—not, of course, on Puritan grounds, but both on humane grounds and in the cause of good sportsmanship. I believe that sport to-day (I don’t say “amateur sport” because I am unable to recognise as sport any pastime that is not, in its true sense, “amateur”) is better and finer and more chivalrous than it has ever been. It is, as a rule, fair—quixotically fair very often, and the more quixotic it is the better. Where a good sportsman could win a fight within the rules, but risks the chance of losing because, on a particular occasion, he is not satisfied that the letter of the rules is adequate, he is behaving quixotically, and as no one suffers but himself, his quixoticism doesn’t matter. A game is only a game.

We might almost define sportsmanship as quixotry, the giving of something for nothing. The word amateur in other relations has become derisive, and has lost its genuine meaning. But an amateur in sport is still recognised as one who loves an occupation for its own sake. He loves it so much that he will deny himself softer pleasures in order to be proficient, and is prepared to undergo serious hardship in its pursuit.

In an affair of life and death, sportsmanship is not involved. We try very hard indeed to make out that it is or that it ought to be, but a man who obeys the rules of—say—the Amateur Boxing Association when he is attacked in a dark lane by a ruffian with half a brick, will have no tribute to his wisdom in any obituary notice written by me.

Sport to-day is beautifully fair. Not so, invariably, are professional athletics.

The Prize-Ring, by its rules, the application of its rules, and the disregard of its rules was what ordinarily intelligent and humane people nowadays call brutal. The professional boxing contest is seldom that, though, as we have seen, individual cases of deliberate cruelty have been known. The object amongst the majority of professional pugilists nowadays is not the enjoyment of a good contest and the money for a contest fairly won, but the money alone for a contest won anyhow. The average pro. is quite happy so long as the referee leaves him alone. He will do anything the referee lets him. What, he asks, is that official for? He is there to see fair play, and to stop the boxer if he does wrong.

But apart from the actual boxing, much connected with its “promotion” and management is so nauseously vulgar, false, unfair, and dishonest, that remaining prejudices based on that foundation are not unintelligible.

APPENDIX
Rules of the Ring
AS REVISED BY THE
Pugilistic Benevolent Association

1. That the ring shall be made on turf, and shall be four and twenty feet square, formed of eight stakes and ropes, the latter extending in double lines, the uppermost line being four feet from the ground, and the lower two feet from the ground. That in the centre of the ring a mark be formed, to be termed a scratch; and that at two opposite corners, as may be selected, spaces be enclosed by other marks sufficiently large for the reception of the seconds and bottle-holders, to be entitled “the corners.”

2. That each man shall be attended to the ring by a second and a bottle-holder, the former provided with a sponge, and the latter with a bottle of water. That the combatants, on shaking hands, shall retire until the seconds of each have tossed for choice of position; which adjusted, the winner shall choose his corner according to the state of the wind or sun, and conduct his man thereto, the loser taking the opposite corner.

3. That each man shall be provided with a handkerchief of a colour suitable to his own fancy, and that the seconds proceed to entwine these handkerchiefs at the upper end of one of the centre stakes. That these handkerchiefs shall be called “the colours”; and that the winner of the battle at its conclusion shall be entitled to their possession, as the trophy of victory.

4. That two umpires shall be chosen by the seconds or backers to watch the progress of the battle, and take exception to any breach of the rules hereafter stated. That a referee shall be chosen by the umpires, unless otherwise agreed on, to whom all disputes shall be referred; and that the decision of this referee, whatever it may be, shall be final and strictly binding on all parties, whether as to the matter in dispute or the issue of the battle. That the umpires shall be provided with a watch, for the purpose of calling time; and that they mutually agree upon which this duty shall devolve, the call of that umpire only to be attended to, and no person whatever to interfere in calling time. That the referee shall withhold all opinion till appealed to by the umpires, and that the umpires strictly abide by his decision without dispute.

5. That on the men being stripped, it shall be the duty of the seconds to examine their drawers, and if any objection arise as to the insertion of improper substances therein, they shall appeal to their umpires, who, with the concurrence of the referee, shall direct what alterations shall be made.

6. That in future no spikes be used in fighting boots except those authorised by the Pugilistic Benevolent Association, which shall not exceed three-eighths of an inch from the sole of the boot, and shall not be less than one-eighth of an inch broad at the point; and it shall be in the power of the referee to alter, or file in any way he pleases, spikes which shall not accord with the above dimensions, even to filing them away altogether.

7. That both men being ready, each man shall be conducted to that side of the scratch next his corner previously chosen; and the seconds on the one side and the men on the other, having shaken hands, the former shall immediately return to their corners, and there remain within the prescribed marks till the round be finished, on no pretence whatever approaching their principals during the round, under a penalty of 5s. for each offence, at the option of the referee. The penalty, which shall be strictly enforced, to go to the funds of the Association. The principal to be responsible for every fine inflicted on his second.

8. That at the conclusion of the round, when one or both of the men shall be down, the seconds and bottle-holders shall step forward and carry or conduct their principal to his corner, there affording him the necessary assistance; and that no person whatever shall be permitted to interfere in this duty.

9. That, at the expiration of thirty seconds (unless otherwise agreed upon) the umpire appointed shall cry “Time,” upon which each man shall rise from the knee of his bottle-holder, and walk to his own side of the scratch unaided, the seconds and bottle-holders remaining at their corner; and that either man failing so to be at the scratch within eight seconds, shall be deemed to have lost the battle.

10. That on no consideration whatever shall any person be permitted to enter the ring during the battle, nor till it shall have been concluded; and that in the event of such unfair practice, or the ropes and stakes being disturbed or removed, it shall be in the power of the referee to award the victory to that man who in his honest opinion shall have the best of the contest.

11. That the seconds and bottle-holders shall not interfere, advise, or direct the adversary of their principal, and shall refrain from all offensive and irritating expressions; in all respects conducting themselves with order and decorum, and confine themselves to the diligent and careful discharge of their duties to their principals.

12. That in picking up their man should the seconds or bottle-holders wilfully injure the antagonist of their principal, the latter shall be deemed to have forfeited the battle on the decision of the referee.

13. That it shall be a “fair stand-up fight,” and if either man shall wilfully throw himself down without receiving a blow, whether blows shall have previously been exchanged or not, he shall be deemed to have lost the battle; but that this rule shall not apply to a man who in a close slips down from the grasp of his opponent to avoid punishment, or from obvious accident or weakness.

14. That butting with the head shall be deemed foul, and the party resorting to this practice shall be deemed to have lost the battle.

15. That a blow struck when a man is thrown or down, shall be deemed foul. That a man with one knee and one hand on the ground, or with both knees on the ground shall be deemed down; and a blow given in either of those positions shall be considered foul, providing always, that when in such position, the man so down shall not himself strike or attempt to strike.

16. That a blow struck below the waistband shall be deemed foul, and that in a close, seizing an antagonist below the waist, by the thigh, or otherwise, shall be deemed foul.

17. That all attempts to inflict injury by gouging, or tearing the flesh with the fingers or nails, and biting, shall be deemed foul.

18. That kicking, or deliberately falling on an antagonist, with the knees or otherwise, when down, shall be deemed foul.

19. That all bets shall be paid as the battle-money, after a fight, is awarded.

20. That no person on any pretence whatever shall be permitted to approach nearer the ring than ten feet, with the exception of the umpires and referee, and the persons appointed to take charge of the water or other refreshments for the combatants, who shall take their seats close to the corners selected by the seconds.

21. That due notice shall be given by the stake-holder of the day and place where the battle money is to be given up, and that he be exonerated from all responsibility upon obeying the direction of the referee; and that all parties be strictly bound by these rules; and that in future all articles of agreement for a contest be entered into with a strict and willing adherence to the letter and spirit of these rules.

22. That in the event of magisterial or other interference, or in case of darkness coming on, the referee shall have the power to name the time and place for the next meeting, if possible on the same day, or as soon after as may be.

23. That should the fight not be decided on the day, all bets, instead of being drawn, shall be put together and divided, unless the fight shall be resumed the same week, between Sunday and Sunday, in which case the bets shall stand and be decided by the event. That where the day named in the articles for a fight to come off is altered to another day in the same week, bets shall stand. The battle-money shall remain in the hands of the stake-holder until fairly won or lost by a fight, unless a draw be mutually agreed upon.

24. That any pugilist voluntarily quitting the ring previous to the deliberate judgment of the referee being obtained, shall be deemed to have lost the fight.

25. That an objection being made by the seconds or umpire, the men shall retire to their corners, and there remain till the decision of the appointed authorities shall be obtained; that if pronounced “Foul” the battle shall be at an end, but if “Fair,” “Time” shall be called by the party appointed, and the man absent from the scratch in eight seconds after shall be deemed to have lost the fight. The decision in all cases to be given promptly and irrevocably, for which purpose the umpires and referee should be invariably close together.

26. That if in a rally at the ropes a man steps outside the ring, to avoid his antagonist, or to escape punishment, he shall forfeit the battle.

27. That the use of hard substances, such as stones, or sticks, or of resin, in the hand during the battle, shall be deemed foul, and that on the requisition of the seconds of either man, the accused shall open his hands for the examination of the referee.

28. That where a man shall have his antagonist across the ropes in such a position as to be helpless, and to endanger his life by strangulation or apoplexy, it shall be in the power of the referee to direct the seconds to take their man away, and thus conclude the round, and that the man or his seconds refusing to obey the direction of the referee, shall be deemed the loser.

29. That in any case where men on meeting in the P.-R., or at any subsequent period during the fight, shall retire from the scratch, or refrain from all attempts to fight for the space of five minutes, the referee shall give them an additional five minutes, and if at the expiration of that time no blow has been struck, or no attempt has been made to strike, he shall have the power of awarding the battle-money, or one moiety thereof, to the funds of the Association.5

30. That all stage fights be as nearly as possible in conformity with the foregoing rules.

INDEX

• Advertisement, a typical, of a hundred years ago, 59.
• Albert Hall contests—
• Burns v. Beckett, 155;
• Carpentier v. Cook, 189-92.
• All India Championship, 1909, 174.
• Amateur Boxing Association rules, 203.
• American Union rules, 146.
• Amphitheatre, Broughton’s, 3, 4, 6.
• Andover, 68.
• Angle, Mr., decision in the Jackson-Slavin fight, 126.
• Appleby in Warwickshire, 86.
• Apreece, Sir Thomas, umpire to Mendoza, 16-17;
• timekeeper in Cribb v. Molineux, 46.
• Aston, Mr. Harvey, 17.
• Attitudes, 86.
• Banbury, 7.
• Barclay, Captain, referee, 37;
• Tom Cribb trained by, 41-42, 52-54.
• Bare-knuckle fighting, nature of, 60-61.
• Bartholomew, Jack, Jem Belcher and, 24.
• Basham, Johnny, 194.
• Beckett, Joe, Broughton compared with, 3;
• and Tommy Burns, 154-57;
• and Bombardier Wells,
• 170-76;
• and Pat O’Keefe, 172;
• and Carpentier, 173, 183;
• and Frank Goddard, 173;
• and Eddie McGoorty, 173;
• and Dick Smith, 173.
• Belcher, Jem, Broughton compared with, 4;
• early fights, 23-25;
• Joe Berks and, 25;
• accident to, 25-26;
• and Hen Pearce, 26-29;
• and Tom Cribb, 30-33, 41-43, 74, 92;
• reputation of, 85-86;
• and Tom Sayers, 108;
• character, 171.
• —— Tom, 52;
• seconds Neate, 64, 68-69;
• seconds Langan, 76-77.
• Bell’s Life in London, articles quoted, 80, 82;
• presentation to the editor, 84-85;
• report of Bendigo v. Burke, 86;
• Bendigo v. Caunt, 96;
• Langham v. Sayers, 99.
• Bendigo and Deaf Burke, 85-87;
• the Champion belt, 93;
• and Ben Caunt, 93-97;
• character, 97-98.
• Berkeley, Colonel, referee, 73.
• Berks, Joe, and Jem Belcher, 25, 27;
• and Hen Pearce, 26.
• Birdham Bridge, the Langan v. Spring contest, 75-76.
• Bittoon, Isaac, Tom Jones and, 24-25.
• Blyth, near Doncaster, 26.
• Boots, 59.
• Borrow, George, on Jack Randall, cited, 60;
• on Tom Spring, 68.
• Bowker, Joe, 194.
• Boxers and Their Battles, “Thormanby,” quoted, 49.
• Boxing, English style, 194;
• the science of, 171;
• necessity for “character” in the boxer, 171;
• thoughts on modern, 201-4.
• “Boy Jim,” 25.
• Bradyl, Mr., 14.
• Brain, Big Ben, 8.
• Britton, Jem Belcher and, 24.
• Brompton cemetery, John Jackson buried, 22.
• Broughton, John, and Slack, 3-6.
• Broughton’s Rules, 13.
• Burke, Deaf, and Simon Byrne, 80-84, 201;
• Bendigo and, 85-87;
• and Nick Ward, 93.
• Burns, Tommy, and Jack Johnson, 147-53;
• style, 150-51;
• and Joe Beckett, 154-57;
• his commercialism, 178.
• Byrne, Simon, and Deaf Burke, 80-84, 201.
• Byron, sparring with Jackson, 21-22.
• California Athletic Club, 121.
• Cannon, Tom, and Deaf Burke, 83.
• Carpentier, Georges, and George Cook, 38, 189-92;
• a genuine champion, 148;
• and Bombardier Wells, 163-69;
• appearance, 170;
• “character,” 171;
• and Beckett, 173, 183;
• methods, 174;
• account of, 176;
• and Jeff Smith, 176, 178-82;
• and Frank Klaus, 178;
• and Papke, 178;
• and Battling Levinsky, 183;
• and Dick Smith, 183;
• and Jack Dempsey, 183-88, 192;
• war service, 183.
• Carson City, Nevada, Fitzsimmons v. Corbett contest, 135.
• Castle Tavern, Holborn, taken by Tom Spring, 78.
• Caunt, Ben, and Bendigo, 85-86, 93-97;
• Nat Langham trained by, 99.
• “Charlemagne” and Jerry Driscoll, 176.
• Choynski, Joe, Corbett and, 128;
• Fitzsimmons and, 133;
• Jefferies and, 139.
• Church, 59.
• Clarence, Duke of (afterwards William IV.), 30.
• Clinches, the English tradition regarding, 139-40.
• Clohessey, Private, and Bombardier Wells, 164.
• Cock, the, Epping, 12.
• “Colour line,” Sullivan and the, 128.
• Combe, Mr., umpire to Humphries, 16.
• “Commercialism,” 154-55.
• Coney Island Athletic Club, Jefferies v. Fitzsimmons contest, 139-43.
• Cook, George, and Carpentier, 38, 189-92.
• Cooper, Gipsy, Tom Hickman and, 64.
• Copthall Common, 46, 53.
• Corbett, James J., and Peter Jackson, 121-22;
• and John L. Sullivan, 127-32;
• and Robert Fitzsimmons, 133-38.
• Cornhill Magazine, article by Thackeray on the Sayers v. Heenan contest, 114.
• Corri, Mr. Eugene, Thirty Years a Boxing Referee, quoted, on Peter Jackson, 122-25;
• referee in Wilde v. Mansfield, 199-200.
• Crawley Downs, Jack Randall v. Ned Turner contest, 60.
• Crawley, Peter, Tom Hickman and, 64.
• Creedon, Dan, and Fitzsimmons, 133.
• Cribb, Tom, and Jem Belcher, 30-33, 41-43, 74, 92;
• supports John Gulley, 35;
• Gregson’s lines in honour of, 40;
• and Molineux, 44, 46-54, 68, 75;
• a remark of, 61;
• seconds Spring, 68, 73, 75-77.
• Crookham Common, Yankee Sullivan v. Hammer Lane contest, 87.
• Crosby, near Liverpool, 94.
• Crouch, Abe, and Tom Sayers, 99.
• Cumberland, Duke of, patron of Broughton, 5-6.
• Curphey, Jack, and Bombardier Wells, 173.
• Curtis, Dick, seconds Deaf Burke, 81, 83.
• Customs of the Ring, 95.
• Daily Oracle and Advertiser, 21.
• Davis, Tom, and Hammer Lane, 92.
• Deaths, accidental, 80-84.
• Deerhurst, Lord, 73.
• Dempsey, Jack, and Fitzsimmons, 133, 183;
• —— (The new), and Jess Willard, 162, 183;
• and Georges Carpentier, 183-88, 192.
• Descamps, M., manager to Georges Carpentier, 168;
• gymnasium of, 176-78;
• intervention in the Carpentier v. Jeff Smith contest, 181;
• power of, 192.
• Dieppe, Carpentier v. Klaus, contest at, 178.
• Dixson, W. Wilmott, see “Thormanby.”
• Don river, 17.
• Doncaster, 17.
• Doyle, Sir A. Conan, Rodney Stone, 25.
• Driscoll, Jem, style, 154, 157, 199;
• winner of the Lonsdale belt, 194;
• and Spike Robson, 194-97;
• and Jean Poésy, 197-98.
• —— Jerry, and Charlemagne, 176.
• Dunstable volunteers called out, 36.
• Eales, 59.
• Edinburgh Star, The, 54.
• Egan, Pierce, quoted, on Perrins and Johnson, 8-9;
• on the Humphries-Mendoza contest, 14;
• on the rules of 1795, 20;
• on the “Lancashire” method, 38;
• on Gregson, 39;
• on Cribb v. Molineux, 46-50.
• “English attitude,” the, 69.
• English Heavy-Weight Championship held by Bombardier Wells, 164.
• Epsom racecourse, the, 41.
• Farnborough, Heenan v. Sayers contest, 108.
• Fearby and Belcher, 25, 27.
• Fewterel of Birmingham, 19.
• Figg, 3.
• Fight, The, Hazlitt, 64.
• “Fight,” use of the term condemned, 126, note.
• Film, the, and Boxing, 149.
• Finchley Common, 24.
• Fisher, 59.
• Fistiania, or the Oracle of the Ring, cited, 3.
• Fitzsimmons, Mrs., 136.
• —— Robert, and James J. Corbett, 133-38;
• and James J. Jefferies, 139-46, 160;
• character, 171.
• Fives Court, St. Martin’s Street, 59.
• “Fly-Weight Champion of the World,” Jimmy Wilde’s title, 199-200.
• Foley, Larry, 121.
• Fouls, 91, 113;
• Bendigo and Caunt, 85-86.
• French Flying Corps, 183.
• French, the, as boxers, 109.
• From Pit Boy to Champion Boxer, Lucas, 177.
• Gamble, Andrew, and Jem Belcher, 24.
• Gaynor, Tom, 81.
• Ghent Exhibition, Carpentier v. Wells match, 165-66.
• Gibbons, Bill, second to Gulley, 37;
• to Molineux, 53.
• Goddard, Frank, and Joe Beckett, 172-73.
• Goodricke, Sir H., 73.
• Grain, Isle of, 103.
• Grant, Jack, and Tom Sayers, 99.
• Gregson, Bob, and John Gulley, 35-39;
• personality, 39-40.
• Gulley, John, and Hen Pearce, 26, 34-35;
• and Bob Gregson, 35-39;
• seconds Cribb, 46, 53.
• Hague, Iron, 164.
• Hailsham, 34.
• Hall, Jem, and Fitzsimmons, 133.
• Hamilton, Colonel, 17.
• Hampton Court, 30.
• Hannan, seconds Bendigo, 97.
• Harmer, Harry, 59;
• seconds Neate, 64, 68.
• Hart, Marvin, and Tommy Burns, 148.
• Hatfield, Caunt trained at, 94.
• Hayes, Bill, 103.
• Hazlitt, William, The Fight, 64;
• description of Neate v. Hickman, 65.
• “Heavy-Weight,” Times article on the Heenan-Sayers match, 116-17.
• Heenan, John, Tom Sayers and, 107-17.
• Hertford Assizes, trial on death of Simon Byrne, 84.
• —— Police, warrant to apprehend Tom Sayers, 107.
• Hickman, Tom, 59;
• Bill Neate and, 64-67.
• Hinkley Downs, 68.
• Holborn Stadium, Joe Beckett v. Wells match, 172;
• Jimmy Wilde v. Alf Mansfield, 199-200.
• Hole in the Wall, Chancery Lane, 63.
• Holt, 59.
• Home Office, intervention in the proposed Wells v. Johnson match, 164.
• Hornchurch, 19.
• Hounslow Races, 4.
• Hudson, Josh, 59;
• seconds Langham, 73.
• Humphries, Richard, 57;
• and Daniel Mendoza, 1787, 12-14;
• 1789, 15-16;
• 1790, 17-19.
• Hungerford, 64.
• Hurley Bottom, near Maidenhead, 25.
• India, Championship held by Wells, 164.
• Ingleston, George, 19.
• Jackson, John, second to Humphries, 17;
• and Mendoza, 19-20;
• a letter to Mendoza, 21;
• rooms at Old Bond Street, 21-22, 52;
• keeps time in Belcher v. Cribb, 30;
• superintending the ring, 46, 53, 70, 76.
• —— Peter, reputation, 45, 149, 151, 158;
• and Frank Slavin, 121-26;
• and James Corbett, 121-22.
• Jefferies, James J., methods, 134;
• and Robert Fitzsimmons, 139-46;
• and Jack Johnson, 158-62.
• Jews among the boxers of England, 12.
• Johnson, Jack, reputation, 44, 85;
• and Tommy Burns, 147-53;
• and James J. Jefferies, 158-62.
• —— Tom, and Isaac Perrins, 7-11;
• second to Humphries, 13, 16, 17;
• to Mendoza, 17;
• his figure, 26;
• and Tom Sayers, 108;
• character, 171.
• “Jolly Butchers,” Wardour St., 26.
• Jones, Paddington, and Jem Belcher, 24;
• seconds Molineux, 46.
• —— Tom, and Isaac Bittoon, 24-25.
• Journee, Paul, and Wells, 173.
• Keene, Alec, seconds Tom Sayers, 99, 101.
• Kilrain, Jake, and Sullivan, 128-30.
• Klaus, Frank, and Carpentier, 178.
• Lane, Hammer, and Yankee Sullivan, 87-92;
• and Tom Davis, 92.
• Langan, Jack and Tom Spring, 72-78;
• generosity of, 78-79.
• Langham, Nat, and Tom Sayers, 99-103.
• Ledoux, Charles, 194.
• Lee, Harry, and Mendoza, 20.
• —— Tancy, 194.
• Lens, colliers of, and Carpentier, 165-66, 176.
• Levinsky, Battling, and Carpentier, 183.
• Longford, Lord, backer of Bendigo, 98.
• Lonsdale Belt, Pat O’Keefe the winner, 167;
• won by Jem Driscoll, 194.
• Lonsdale, Lord, on the use of the word “Fight,” 126, note.
• Lucas, F. H., From Pit Boy to Champion Boxer, 177.
• “Lying on,” art of, 155.
• Macdonald, Jack, seconds Perry 103.
• Mace, Jem, 121;
• competition organised by, 133.
• McGoorty, Eddie, and Beckett, 173;
• and Bombardier Wells, 173.
• McKay, death of, 80.
• Maher, Peter, 133.
• Mahoney, Packey, 166.
• Mansfield, Alf, and Jimmy Wilde, 199-200.
• Martin, Jack, and Jack Randall, 62-63.
• Mendoza, Daniel, 57;
• and Richard Humphries, 12-19;
• and John Jackson, 19-20;
• and Harry Lee, 20;
• and Tom Owen, 21.
• Miles, Henry Downs, Pugilistica, by, 49.
• Mitchell, Charley, seconds Kilrain, 130.
• Moir, Gunner, and Tommy Burns, 148-49;
• and Bombardier Wells, 167.
• Molineux and Tom Cribb, 40, 44, 46-54, 68, 75;
• history of, 45-46.
• Molyneux, and Hammer Lane, 88.
• Monte Video, boxing in, 202.
• Moulsey Hurst, 30.
• “Mouth fighting,” 145-46, 151-54.
• “Mufflers,” 34.
• National Sporting Club contests:
• Frank Slavin v. Peter Jackson, 121-26;
• a private meeting with Fitzsimmons, 134;
• Wells v. Iron Hague, 164;
• Wells v. Packey Mahoney, 166;
• Carpentier v. Wells, 167;
• Jem Driscoll contests, 194, 197-98.
• Neate, Bill, and Tom Hickman, 64-67;
• and Tom Spring, 68-71;
• manner of, 95.
• New Jersey, U.S.A., Jack Dempsey v. Carpentier, 184.
• New Orleans, Sullivan v. Corbett, 128-29.
• Newbury in Berkshire, Neate v. Hickman, 64.
• Nichols, George, and Tom Cribb, 30.
• Nigger, the, in Boxing, 44-45.
• No Man’s Land, Hertfordshire, Deaf Burke v. Simon Byrne, 80.
• No-Decision contests, 146.
• Northumberland, Duke of, and Bill Richmond, 46.
• Nosworthy, 59.
• “Nottingham Lambs” support Bendigo, 96-97.
• Nottingham Steeplechases, 1840, 93.
• Odiham in Hampshire, 12.
• O’Keefe, Pat, and Bombardier Wells, 167;
• and Joe Beckett, 172.
• Old Bond Street, Jackson’s rooms, 21-22.
• “Old K Legs,” nickname of the Tipton Slasher, 103.
• Old Swan Stairs, 7.
• Oliver, Tom, seconds Jack Randall, 59-60;
• and Tom Hickman, 64.
• Olympia, Joe Beckett v. Bombardier Wells, 173-75.
• O’Neill, Colonel, Langan’s backer, 76-77.
• Osbaldiston, Squire, referee in Bendigo v. Caunt, 95, 97.
• Owen, Tom, 59;
• and Mendoza, 21;
• seconds Ned Turner, 60.
• Painter, Ned, seconds Spring, 68, 73, 76;
• referee in Sullivan v. Lane, 91.
• Palmer, Pedlar, 194.
• Papke, and Carpentier, 178.
• Parish, 59.
• Parker, Tass, Bendigo’s challenge, 93;
• and the Tipton Slasher, 102;
• seconds William Perry, 103.
• Pearce, Henry, and Jem Belcher, 26-29;
• and John Gulley, 34, 36.
• Perrins, Isaac, 103;
• and Tom Johnson, 7-11.
• Perry, William, see Slasher, the Tipton.
• Pinckney, Mr., 45.
• Plimmer, Billy, 194.
• Plough Inn, Carey Street, 34.
• Poésy, Jean, and Jem Driscoll, 192-98;
• and Digger Stanley, 198.
• Pontefract, 34.
• Prize money, amount in 1789, 7-8.
• Prize-Ring, the, and modern Boxing, 201-4.
• Punch, lines by Thackeray on the Sayers-Heenan contest, 114-16;
• on the boxer’s appearance, 171.
• Pugilistic Benevolent Association, revised Rules of the Ring, 204-8.
• Pugilistica, Miles, quoted, 49.
• Randall, Jack, 59;
• and Ned Turner, 60-62;
• and Jack Martin, 62-63.
• Reeves, Harry, and Bombardier Wells, 173.
• Referee, action regarding “breaking,” 139-40;
• duty of the, 156.
• Reno in Nevada, Jefferies v. Johnson, 158-62.
• Reynolds, Tom, seconds Langan, 73-75;
• complaint of, 75.
• Richmond, Bill, and Tom Cribb, 30;
• supports Bob Gregson, 35;
• seconds Molineux, 44-46, 49-50, 52-53;
• seconds Ned Turner, 59-60.
• Ring, broken in the Langan v. Spring contest, 73.
• Robertson, Colonel Archibald, 107-8.
• Robson, Spike, and Jem Driscoll, 194-97.
• Rodney Stone, Conan Doyle, 25.
• Ruhlin, Gus, 139.
• Rules of the American Union, 146.
• Rules of the Ring, 96, 204-8;
• English, regarding hitting in holds, 139-40.
• Rushcutter’s Bay, Sydney, Tommy Burns v. Jack Johnson, 150.
• St. Martin’s Street, the racquets court, 25.
• Sampson, 59.
• San Francisco, Jefferies v. Fitzsimmons, 143.
• Savate, La, decay of, 176.
• Sawbridgeworth, 56.
• Say and Sele, Lord, backs Jem Belcher, 30.
• Sayers, Tom, 53;
• and Nat Langham, 99-101;
• and the Tipton Slasher, 102;
• warrant for his arrest, 107-8;
• and the Benicia Boy, 107-17;
• character, 171.
• Scholfield, J., 51.
• Scroggins, Jack, and Ned Turner, 55-59.
• Seabright, Sir John, 37.
• Sellinger Cup Week, 1790, 17.
• Shelton, Tom, 59;
• seconds Hickman, 64.
• Shepperton, Turner v. Sayers, 58.
• Six Mile Bottom, near Newmarket, 35.
• Slack, Jack, and Broughton, 3-6;
• Jem Belcher his grandson, 23.
• Slasher, the Tipton (William Perry), and Tom Sayers, 102.
• Slavin, Frank, and Peter Jackson, 121-26.
• Smith, Dick, and Joe Beckett, 172-73;
• and Carpentier, 183.
• —— Jeff, and Georges Carpentier, 176, 178-82.
• Spring, Tom, 59;
• Broughton compared with, 4;
• seconds Hickman, 64, 66;
• and Bill Neate, 68-71;
• and Jack Langan, 72-78;
• death of, 79;
• seconds Simon Byrne, 81-84;
• attitude, 86;
• interest in Caunt, 94, 96;
• character, 171.
• Stanley, Digger, and Jean Poésy, 198.
• Stewart, Mr., 25.
• Stilton in Huntingdon, 15.
• Stock Exchange, gift to Molineux, 50.
• Sullivan, John L., 135;
• James J. Corbett and, 127-32.
• —— Yankee, and Hammer Lane, 88-92.
• Summers, Johnny, 194.
• Sutfield Green, Oxford, Bendigo v. Caunt, 94.
• Swift, Owen, and Hammer Lane, 87;
• action of, 106.
• Thackeray, W. M., articles in the Cornhill Magazine and Punch on the Sayers-Heenan match, 114-16.
• Thirty Years a Boxing Referee, Eugene Corri, 122.
• Thistleton Gap, 51.
• Thompson, John, 85, 93.
• —— William, see Bendigo.
• —— Mrs., 94.
• “Thormanby,” pen-name of W. Wilmott Dixson, 52;
• on Molineux, 45;
• Boxers and their Battles, quoted, 49, 52;
• generosity of, 78-79;
• on Bendigo’s arrest, 85, 93, 98.
• Thornton, Mr., 15.
• Thurtell, 64.
• Times, The, letter from Molineux to Cribb, 51;
• notice regarding Tom Sayers’s fight, 107;
• on the Heenan-Sayers contest, 111;
• article by “Heavy-Weight,” 116-17;
• report of Deaf Burke’s trial, 201.
• Townley, Arthur, and Bombardier Wells, 173.
• Turner, Ned, and Jack Scroggins, 55-59;
• and Jack Randall, 60-62.
• Turners, the three, 59.
• Union Arms, Panton Street, 54.
• Ward, Jem, the Championship held by, 68, 80;
• seconds Simon Byrne, 81, 82, 84;
• seconds Bendigo, 87, 97;
• gives the Champion’s belt to Bendigo, 93.
• —— Joe, seconds Gulley, 37;
• seconds Cribb, 46, 49-50, 53.
• —— Nick, and Ben Caunt, 93.
• Warr, Bill, 24.
• Weare, Mr., backs Bill Neate, 64.
• Wells, Bombardier, and Georges Carpentier, 163-69;
• character, 163-64;
• appearance, 170;
• and Joe Beckett, 170-76;
• and Arthur Townley, 173;
• and Eddie McGoorty, 173;
• and Harry Reeves, 173;
• and Jack Curphey, 173;
• and Paul Journee, 173.
• Whitaker, 59.
• White, seconds Jack Randall, 60.
• “White hope,” a search for, 158-59, 164.
• Wilde, Jimmy, Fly-Weight Champion of the World, 198-200;
• and Alf Mansfield, 199-200.
• Willard, Jess, and Jack Johnson, 162;
• and Jack Dempsey, 183.
• Winnings, amount in 1750, 6.
• Winter, see Spring, Tom.
• Women at the Albert Hall, 190.
• Worcester Racecourse, Spring v. Langan, 72-73.
• “World’s Championship,” the phrase, 121;
• holders in 1915 and after, 162;
• Sullivan’s title, 128;
• World’s Middle-Weight Championship held by Robert Fitzsimmons, 133;
• the Heavy-Weight Championship won by Tommy Burns, 148.