Rinty Monaghan sang "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows" in the centre of the ring after a decision loss to future world flyweight champion Terry Allen at the Harringay Arena, London .
bits and pieces scrapbook
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Feb 7, 1949
Rinty Monaghan sang "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows" in the centre of the ring after a decision loss to future world flyweight champion Terry Allen at the Harringay Arena, London .
Rinty Monaghan sang "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows" in the centre of the ring after a decision loss to future world flyweight champion Terry Allen at the Harringay Arena, London .
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
What happened was, as soon as the fight was over, Cosell called me over to the side of the ring and he said "as soon as they announce the decision come down here." Well, he knew I won. So, I was excited, I thought, you know, here I am, a small town kid from Minnesota, and Cosell is going interview me, this is cool. And then they announced the decision saying Johnny Boudreaux's name and they announced it in such an odd way. I mean it wasn’t like they brought us to the middle of the ring or anything. If you remember, they just said "Johnny Boudreaux wins", trying to shuffle it by. At first, I thought they were just saying "hey, give a hand to Johnny Boudreaux" and I turn around and his arms are up in the air. I'm like "what"? Then I went over to Cosell and started screaming "this is the time, Howard, you have to tell it like it is, you're going to have to tell the truth!".
By this time, he had brought Boudreaux down to interview him and I'm yelling at Cosell "tell it like it is, I beat this chump and you know that!" Then Johnny Boudreaux called me some names, something to do with my mother of course, and that's when I tried to kick him in the mouth. I kicked out at Boudreaux and, when I did, Boudreaux jumped back and got his foot entangled in the head set and Cosell's toupee went right off with the headset. I have it on tape and, when I feel low some nights, I put that on and run it back and forth, back and forth. Then, I feel better.
(Scott LeDoux)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SON_Spm7fcE
By this time, he had brought Boudreaux down to interview him and I'm yelling at Cosell "tell it like it is, I beat this chump and you know that!" Then Johnny Boudreaux called me some names, something to do with my mother of course, and that's when I tried to kick him in the mouth. I kicked out at Boudreaux and, when I did, Boudreaux jumped back and got his foot entangled in the head set and Cosell's toupee went right off with the headset. I have it on tape and, when I feel low some nights, I put that on and run it back and forth, back and forth. Then, I feel better.
(Scott LeDoux)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SON_Spm7fcE
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
From the Classic Boxing Society YouTube channel...
Original blow-by-blow radio broadcast of the heavyweight fight between Joe Louis and Al Ettore.. fought on Sept 22, 1936 at the Municipal Stadium, Philadelphia.
https://youtu.be/lvYxDV6-5YU
Original blow-by-blow radio broadcast of the heavyweight fight between Joe Louis and Al Ettore.. fought on Sept 22, 1936 at the Municipal Stadium, Philadelphia.
https://youtu.be/lvYxDV6-5YU
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
He must have wondered where the tornado had come from. He marched from his corner full of confidence at the opening bell, looking relaxed and assured as he fired off punches at his thicker-set challenger. Cerdan, protecting himself ably, waited for a pause in the storm and then erupted with a two-fisted attack that staggered the champion and forced him on the retreat. Zale never got back into the fight. Bewildered by the speed and accuracy of Cerdan’s crashing right hands, Tony was sometimes outpunched by a ratio of three or four to one as the steady beating from Marcel became more intense with the passing rounds. Cerdan would frequently feint with the right, causing Tony to shift into the firing line for the left hook.
Zale never did lose his withering look of the cold assassin. Nor did he stop punching back. He simply couldn’t make any progress. Those of his punches that were not slipped or blocked were unable to check Marcel’s progress. The Frenchman had set a torrid pace and Tony began to wilt. Mustering all his old know-how, the brave champion had no option but to clinch and muddle his way through the rounds, confining his replies to brief and ineffective bursts of punching.
By the eleventh round, Tony was holding and hustling desperately when a right uppercut finally unhinged him. In one of the most poignant vignettes ever seen in the boxing ring, Zale tried heroically to remain on his feet as he slumped against the ropes. Then sheer exhaustion cut his strings and he collapsed to his knees as his handlers rushed to his aid.
It was four o’clock in the morning in Paris when Cerdan’s many fans received the news that their man was the new middleweight champion of the world. In the Montmartre section of town, a big crowd gathered and celebrated joyously. In nightclubs and little street cafes, Cerdan was toasted. People poured onto the streets to discuss the fight after hearing the broadcast on French radio.
In the Roosevelt Stadium, Cerdan was dazed and uncertain how to react as the stunned pro-Zale crowd gradually drank in the greatness they had seen and gave a roar of appreciation for the new monarch.
(by Mike Casey)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DH6SlkpFAOM
Zale never did lose his withering look of the cold assassin. Nor did he stop punching back. He simply couldn’t make any progress. Those of his punches that were not slipped or blocked were unable to check Marcel’s progress. The Frenchman had set a torrid pace and Tony began to wilt. Mustering all his old know-how, the brave champion had no option but to clinch and muddle his way through the rounds, confining his replies to brief and ineffective bursts of punching.
By the eleventh round, Tony was holding and hustling desperately when a right uppercut finally unhinged him. In one of the most poignant vignettes ever seen in the boxing ring, Zale tried heroically to remain on his feet as he slumped against the ropes. Then sheer exhaustion cut his strings and he collapsed to his knees as his handlers rushed to his aid.
It was four o’clock in the morning in Paris when Cerdan’s many fans received the news that their man was the new middleweight champion of the world. In the Montmartre section of town, a big crowd gathered and celebrated joyously. In nightclubs and little street cafes, Cerdan was toasted. People poured onto the streets to discuss the fight after hearing the broadcast on French radio.
In the Roosevelt Stadium, Cerdan was dazed and uncertain how to react as the stunned pro-Zale crowd gradually drank in the greatness they had seen and gave a roar of appreciation for the new monarch.
(by Mike Casey)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DH6SlkpFAOM
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
The story of the first meeting between heavyweight champion Max Baer and, unknown to him at the time, Joe Louis.
"Say, kid, if i'm keeping you up, let's both go to sleep." - Everybody laughed, except Joe...
"Say, kid, if i'm keeping you up, let's both go to sleep." - Everybody laughed, except Joe...
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
March 21, 1941 - Detroit, Michigan
Heavyweight champion Joe Louis, with both feet off the ground, lands a left to the head of the much larger Abe Simon in the 15th defence of his title - the last heavyweight title fight scheduled for 20 rounds.
Joe Louis Stops Abe Simon in Thirteenth Round
Associated Press, March 22, 1941...
The impossible didn't quite happen tonight but it came close enough to throw a substantial scare into Joe Louis and his fistic family before the Bomber was able to do his work.
With just a whale-sized heart and a dazzling left hand, the New York giant, Abe Simon—the big target who wasn't supposed to have one chance in a million of lasting more than three rounds—gave Louis a "helluva" fight of it for 12 full heats before running afoul of the Brown Bomber's big guns in the thirteenth.
With the greatest indoor crowd in Detroit's fistic history jamming the Olympia and gasping in amazement at Simon's sensational showing, Abe gave just about as good as he received until the thirteenth. Then, floored twice by heavy-duty right hand shells, he got up and staggered helplessly into the ropes near his own corner. There, Referee Sam Hennessey rushed in and halted the bout with Louis a tired technical knockout winner at 1 minute, 20 seconds of the thirteenth.
A total of 18,908 fans bulged this big arena at the seams and hung from the rafters to see the hometown champion, and Promoter Mike Jacobs said some 3,000 who couldn't even crowd into the packed standing room sections, were turned away. The gross gate was $56,605.10.
But, although he locked his world heavyweight championship in the safe successfully for the fifteenth time, the great Louis was slightly less than a ball of fire. After it was over, the "experts" agreed he was mighty lucky not to have had to face the speed and left hand of a Billy Conn tonight.
He finished up with a "mouse" under his left eye and the optic half closed and he left the definite impression behind that he is no longer at his peak, although at 202 pounds tonight his handlers insisted he was "in the pink."
Altogether, Louis floored Abe four times during the 13 rounds this scheduled 20-rounder lasted. In the first round—in fact the first punch he threw—Joe whistled a right off Abe's "wiskers" that dropped him near a neutral corner. He was up without a count, however. In the third, another of the same sat Abe down in another corner, and be stayed grinning on the seat of his pants until the referee reached nine.
Then, although Abe was hurt three times afterward, he didn't go down until the thirteenth. For several rounds before that Joe had been stalking the mountainous Manhattanite, obviously holding his fire until he had an open shot.
He got it in the thirteenth. A smashing right dropped Abe near his own corner for nine. He got up as Joe rushed in sensing the kill. Three more rights dropped Abe in almost the identical spot, and again he took nine before climbing to his feet. Joe raced across the ring once more, but this time "our Abe," as Manager Jimmy Johnston calls his gladiator, was helpless and through. He staggered blindly into the ropes and it was all over.
Heavyweight champion Joe Louis, with both feet off the ground, lands a left to the head of the much larger Abe Simon in the 15th defence of his title - the last heavyweight title fight scheduled for 20 rounds.
Joe Louis Stops Abe Simon in Thirteenth Round
Associated Press, March 22, 1941...
The impossible didn't quite happen tonight but it came close enough to throw a substantial scare into Joe Louis and his fistic family before the Bomber was able to do his work.
With just a whale-sized heart and a dazzling left hand, the New York giant, Abe Simon—the big target who wasn't supposed to have one chance in a million of lasting more than three rounds—gave Louis a "helluva" fight of it for 12 full heats before running afoul of the Brown Bomber's big guns in the thirteenth.
With the greatest indoor crowd in Detroit's fistic history jamming the Olympia and gasping in amazement at Simon's sensational showing, Abe gave just about as good as he received until the thirteenth. Then, floored twice by heavy-duty right hand shells, he got up and staggered helplessly into the ropes near his own corner. There, Referee Sam Hennessey rushed in and halted the bout with Louis a tired technical knockout winner at 1 minute, 20 seconds of the thirteenth.
A total of 18,908 fans bulged this big arena at the seams and hung from the rafters to see the hometown champion, and Promoter Mike Jacobs said some 3,000 who couldn't even crowd into the packed standing room sections, were turned away. The gross gate was $56,605.10.
But, although he locked his world heavyweight championship in the safe successfully for the fifteenth time, the great Louis was slightly less than a ball of fire. After it was over, the "experts" agreed he was mighty lucky not to have had to face the speed and left hand of a Billy Conn tonight.
He finished up with a "mouse" under his left eye and the optic half closed and he left the definite impression behind that he is no longer at his peak, although at 202 pounds tonight his handlers insisted he was "in the pink."
Altogether, Louis floored Abe four times during the 13 rounds this scheduled 20-rounder lasted. In the first round—in fact the first punch he threw—Joe whistled a right off Abe's "wiskers" that dropped him near a neutral corner. He was up without a count, however. In the third, another of the same sat Abe down in another corner, and be stayed grinning on the seat of his pants until the referee reached nine.
Then, although Abe was hurt three times afterward, he didn't go down until the thirteenth. For several rounds before that Joe had been stalking the mountainous Manhattanite, obviously holding his fire until he had an open shot.
He got it in the thirteenth. A smashing right dropped Abe near his own corner for nine. He got up as Joe rushed in sensing the kill. Three more rights dropped Abe in almost the identical spot, and again he took nine before climbing to his feet. Joe raced across the ring once more, but this time "our Abe," as Manager Jimmy Johnston calls his gladiator, was helpless and through. He staggered blindly into the ropes and it was all over.
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Robinson went down hard.
His head seemed to hit the canvas before the rest his body. When he rose, just before referee Joseph could reach eight, his legs were unsteady and it was apparent his head wasn’t quite clear.
Joseph gave Robinson’s gloves a quick wipe on his shirt and backed off. There were a full two minutes left in the round - an eternity for a shaken fighter.
Described by one writer as being elated but incredulous to the upturn in his fortunes, the blood rushed to Ohio sharpshooter’s head, as he stormed after Robinson. Ripping hooks and right crosses, all intended to finish matters on contact, Bell’s punches became a little looser and wider. Robinson immediately back pedaled, desperately ducking and dodging the frenzied attack before holding on tight when Bell got too close.
The fans were on their feet, urging the underdog on. With Robinson in full scale survival mode, Bell’s chased. With a little more composure, Bell might have been able to capitalize further, but slowly Robinson became steadier, and a little surer, and when the final bell rang was not just surviving, but gamely firing back.
Trying to capitalize on the events, and test Robinson’s resolve, Bell came out intent to keep the pressure on. Having rediscovered the composure that eluded him during the frantic push to end matters moments earlier, Bell mixed his attack nicely, using his jab, and going hard to the body.
Robinson tried to re-establish himself in the fight with his jab and keep the action as a comfortable distance, but Bell’s pressure was unyielding. Shaking off whatever Robinson threw; he kept coming forward, and just before the round ended, landed another hard left hook. The punch shook Robinson, but there was no time to follow up.
The next two rounds were also carried by the determined efforts of Bell, who kept shuffling forward, letting his hands go while never taking a backwards step. He once again managed to stagger Robinson, this time near the end of the fifth round with a right cross to jaw.
With a third of the fight in the books, Bell had a clear upper hand – however a slight shift of momentum took place in the closely contested sixth. Robinson managed to bloody Bell’s nose, which bled freely for the rest of the bout. Still Bell had his moments, and just before the bell, landed a grazing left hook, followed by a clean right hand.
Then came the decisive seventh round.
After being forced onto his back foot for much of the fight, Robinson went on the attack. He met Bell head on, and unleashed his full repertoire of dazzling offensive skills, including a relentless hooking assault to the body. Those whip like hooks, digging into Bell’s midsection, finally cracked the Ohio man’s resolve to not move backwards. Sensing his chance, Robinson drove Bell into the corner, where a left right combination late in the round buckled Bell’s knees and had him holding on.
When Bell left his corner out for the eighth, some of the fire appeared to be gone, but he still came out pressing the attack. Softened up and a little slower, but still willing and determined, he was easy pray for Robinson’s punishing counters, and soon was being hammered all over the ring. At one stage, the besieged Bell slipped to the canvas after ducking to avoid a left hook.
In the ninth round, Bell used his jab to good effect, and managed to back Robinson off a little with two hooks to the body. It was only a momentary respite however, as Robinson quickly resumed his assault, and Bell continuously got the worst of the exchanges.
Finally, in the eleventh round, after landing several damaging hooks, Robinson followed up a double left hook combo, with a crunching right hand. The barrage sent Bell toppling to the canvas.
Bell struggled to his feet at the count of 8, but by all accounts, looked a thoroughly beaten man, and Robinson went all out for the finish. He battered his unsteady rival all over the ring, but when the bell rang, Bell was still on his feet.
The twelfth was a one sided barrage.
Just about everyone in the Garden felt Robinson would finish matters, as he unloaded his full arsenal on the exceedingly game, but near helpless Bell.
Robinson wailed away in a bid for the knockout, ripping hooks and right hands to the body and head, as he sent his tottering opponent staggering all over the ring. Through it all, Bell somehow stayed upright. He clutched and grabbed and used his jab as best he could to fend Robinson off, prompting one reporter to refer to Bell's amazing survival act as a miracle of ruggedness.
Coming out for the thirteenth, Bell’s face was a gory mess. His lower lip and nose swollen and bleeding, and his eyes puffy from the pounding he’d received. Robinson looking fresh by comparison was not completely unscathed, sporting cuts around both eyebrows.
Barely able to maintain his footing through the previous three minutes, most expected Bell to resume his survival tactics, yet he discarded the jab and grab of the previous round, choosing to crowd Robinson on the inside, while winging hooks to the body. There was nothing sharp or precise about what Bell could muster, but it was stirring, gutsy stuff that brought the crowd to its feet, and won him the round on the scorecards of many ringside observers.
Bell followed up his effort of the thirteenth, by continuing to bore in and swing away, while Robinson responded with the more precise return fire. Opinions were split on who won the round, with some preferring Bell’s haphazard aggressiveness to Robinson’s accurate counters.
While both men were running on fumes heading into the fifteenth, Robinson hadn’t absorbed close to the same amount of punishment, and had a little more snap in his shots. He again seized control of the battle, catching Bell repeatedly throughout the round. He just didn’t have enough left in the tank to amp up the power on his punches, and couldn’t put Bell into further duress. As the two exhausted fighters battled to the final bell, the appreciative crowd roared their approval.
The crowd applauded, as the two fighters received congratulations from their camps, while awaiting the official result. In the minds of most observers, there was not much doubt over who the winner was, but as with all competitive fights, there’s still a palpable tension in the air while the scores are being tabulated.
“I’m the champ, George.” Robinson said to Gainford as they stood in the corner. Gainford warned him not to be so certain.
After a few minutes, the cards were handed to ring announcer Harry Balogh, who read the verdict.
Referee Joseph and Judge Arthur Schwartz both had Robinson ahead by scores of 10 rounds to 5, while Judge Jack O’Sullivan had Robinson in front by 8 rounds to 6, with one round even. Loud cheers greeted the unanimous decision, although a few scattered boos could also be heard.
The ringside press was in complete agreement with Robinson winning the decision, and with the sentiment that Bell had performed courageously in defeat.
As congratulatory cries rang down from the balcony, tears welled up in Robinson’s eyes.
He’d finally done it. The king now had his crown.
(by Andrew Fruman)
His head seemed to hit the canvas before the rest his body. When he rose, just before referee Joseph could reach eight, his legs were unsteady and it was apparent his head wasn’t quite clear.
Joseph gave Robinson’s gloves a quick wipe on his shirt and backed off. There were a full two minutes left in the round - an eternity for a shaken fighter.
Described by one writer as being elated but incredulous to the upturn in his fortunes, the blood rushed to Ohio sharpshooter’s head, as he stormed after Robinson. Ripping hooks and right crosses, all intended to finish matters on contact, Bell’s punches became a little looser and wider. Robinson immediately back pedaled, desperately ducking and dodging the frenzied attack before holding on tight when Bell got too close.
The fans were on their feet, urging the underdog on. With Robinson in full scale survival mode, Bell’s chased. With a little more composure, Bell might have been able to capitalize further, but slowly Robinson became steadier, and a little surer, and when the final bell rang was not just surviving, but gamely firing back.
Trying to capitalize on the events, and test Robinson’s resolve, Bell came out intent to keep the pressure on. Having rediscovered the composure that eluded him during the frantic push to end matters moments earlier, Bell mixed his attack nicely, using his jab, and going hard to the body.
Robinson tried to re-establish himself in the fight with his jab and keep the action as a comfortable distance, but Bell’s pressure was unyielding. Shaking off whatever Robinson threw; he kept coming forward, and just before the round ended, landed another hard left hook. The punch shook Robinson, but there was no time to follow up.
The next two rounds were also carried by the determined efforts of Bell, who kept shuffling forward, letting his hands go while never taking a backwards step. He once again managed to stagger Robinson, this time near the end of the fifth round with a right cross to jaw.
With a third of the fight in the books, Bell had a clear upper hand – however a slight shift of momentum took place in the closely contested sixth. Robinson managed to bloody Bell’s nose, which bled freely for the rest of the bout. Still Bell had his moments, and just before the bell, landed a grazing left hook, followed by a clean right hand.
Then came the decisive seventh round.
After being forced onto his back foot for much of the fight, Robinson went on the attack. He met Bell head on, and unleashed his full repertoire of dazzling offensive skills, including a relentless hooking assault to the body. Those whip like hooks, digging into Bell’s midsection, finally cracked the Ohio man’s resolve to not move backwards. Sensing his chance, Robinson drove Bell into the corner, where a left right combination late in the round buckled Bell’s knees and had him holding on.
When Bell left his corner out for the eighth, some of the fire appeared to be gone, but he still came out pressing the attack. Softened up and a little slower, but still willing and determined, he was easy pray for Robinson’s punishing counters, and soon was being hammered all over the ring. At one stage, the besieged Bell slipped to the canvas after ducking to avoid a left hook.
In the ninth round, Bell used his jab to good effect, and managed to back Robinson off a little with two hooks to the body. It was only a momentary respite however, as Robinson quickly resumed his assault, and Bell continuously got the worst of the exchanges.
Finally, in the eleventh round, after landing several damaging hooks, Robinson followed up a double left hook combo, with a crunching right hand. The barrage sent Bell toppling to the canvas.
Bell struggled to his feet at the count of 8, but by all accounts, looked a thoroughly beaten man, and Robinson went all out for the finish. He battered his unsteady rival all over the ring, but when the bell rang, Bell was still on his feet.
The twelfth was a one sided barrage.
Just about everyone in the Garden felt Robinson would finish matters, as he unloaded his full arsenal on the exceedingly game, but near helpless Bell.
Robinson wailed away in a bid for the knockout, ripping hooks and right hands to the body and head, as he sent his tottering opponent staggering all over the ring. Through it all, Bell somehow stayed upright. He clutched and grabbed and used his jab as best he could to fend Robinson off, prompting one reporter to refer to Bell's amazing survival act as a miracle of ruggedness.
Coming out for the thirteenth, Bell’s face was a gory mess. His lower lip and nose swollen and bleeding, and his eyes puffy from the pounding he’d received. Robinson looking fresh by comparison was not completely unscathed, sporting cuts around both eyebrows.
Barely able to maintain his footing through the previous three minutes, most expected Bell to resume his survival tactics, yet he discarded the jab and grab of the previous round, choosing to crowd Robinson on the inside, while winging hooks to the body. There was nothing sharp or precise about what Bell could muster, but it was stirring, gutsy stuff that brought the crowd to its feet, and won him the round on the scorecards of many ringside observers.
Bell followed up his effort of the thirteenth, by continuing to bore in and swing away, while Robinson responded with the more precise return fire. Opinions were split on who won the round, with some preferring Bell’s haphazard aggressiveness to Robinson’s accurate counters.
While both men were running on fumes heading into the fifteenth, Robinson hadn’t absorbed close to the same amount of punishment, and had a little more snap in his shots. He again seized control of the battle, catching Bell repeatedly throughout the round. He just didn’t have enough left in the tank to amp up the power on his punches, and couldn’t put Bell into further duress. As the two exhausted fighters battled to the final bell, the appreciative crowd roared their approval.
The crowd applauded, as the two fighters received congratulations from their camps, while awaiting the official result. In the minds of most observers, there was not much doubt over who the winner was, but as with all competitive fights, there’s still a palpable tension in the air while the scores are being tabulated.
“I’m the champ, George.” Robinson said to Gainford as they stood in the corner. Gainford warned him not to be so certain.
After a few minutes, the cards were handed to ring announcer Harry Balogh, who read the verdict.
Referee Joseph and Judge Arthur Schwartz both had Robinson ahead by scores of 10 rounds to 5, while Judge Jack O’Sullivan had Robinson in front by 8 rounds to 6, with one round even. Loud cheers greeted the unanimous decision, although a few scattered boos could also be heard.
The ringside press was in complete agreement with Robinson winning the decision, and with the sentiment that Bell had performed courageously in defeat.
As congratulatory cries rang down from the balcony, tears welled up in Robinson’s eyes.
He’d finally done it. The king now had his crown.
(by Andrew Fruman)
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
The day Ike Williams conquered Wales.
In 1946 tough Welsh Lightweight Ronnie James was desperately looking for a World Title shot after a long career fighting many of the best fighters around his weight from the UK and overseas.
The then powerful UK promoter Jack Solomans thought he had found just the opportunity for his fighter when he was ringside for Ike Williams fight against Bobby Ruffin in New York. Ike won by TKO in the 5th but Solomons still felt that Ike Williams was nothing special and that his fighter Ronnie James was just the fighter to beat him.
Straight away Solomons entered into negotiations with the Williams camp hoping to land a title fight in Wales for his fighter. As is often the case in Boxing these negotiations proved long and at times very difficult, with many arguments taking place between the two camps. Eventually Solomons managed to get all the contracts signed for Williams to come to Wales and defend his title (the Williams camp had originally wanted a ten round non-title fight).
The fight was set for 4th September 1946 and would take place in the open air at Ninian Park, Cardiff, Wales. The American Champion Williams would receive 25% of the gate and Ronnie James as challenger 15%.
Ike Williams arrived in the UK in a confident mood and was accompanied by his manager Cornelius ‘Connie’ Patrick and his trainer Harry Curley. But Jack Solomons problems were not yet over. Ike Williams then started making many demands, mainly about the food he wanted to eat, he was demanding such things like fresh fruit everyday. Solomons tried explaining to the Champion that many of the the foods he was asking for were just not available in the UK (remember this was in 1946 and food rationing was widespread). However Ike Williams wasn’t interested in excuses he wanted his requested food, and fast.
Eventually Solomons managed to cater to his demands through some contacts at the American Embassy. Then there was more problems, about two weeks before the fight it started to rain and rain and rain. Not the best of weather for a big outdoor fight. Despite many around him calling for the fight to be prostphoned Solomons insisted that the fight would still go ahead. Thankfully on the morning of the fight the rain stopped and due to this and a lot of hard work by the men preparing the arena the fight wasn’t called off.
In the weeks leading up to the fight the reports from the respective training camps was that Ronnie James was looking fantastic but Ike Williams was looking sluggish and less than motivated, this coupled with the fact that the Champion was still a few pounds over weight on the morning of the fight gave even more hope to the Welsh fans that their fighter would be lifting the Championship belt later that day.
But then the fight began, Ronnie James was a fine fighter but he was no match for the superb Ike Williams who just tore the brave Welsh fighter apart with a vicious body attack. Ronnie James hit the canvas six times that night and showed tremendous heart and bravery but in all truth he was never really in the fight and was stopped in the 9th.
Jack Solomons had made a terrible mistake, Ike Williams was indeed a great fighter who just crushed the pride of Wales that night.
In 1946 tough Welsh Lightweight Ronnie James was desperately looking for a World Title shot after a long career fighting many of the best fighters around his weight from the UK and overseas.
The then powerful UK promoter Jack Solomans thought he had found just the opportunity for his fighter when he was ringside for Ike Williams fight against Bobby Ruffin in New York. Ike won by TKO in the 5th but Solomons still felt that Ike Williams was nothing special and that his fighter Ronnie James was just the fighter to beat him.
Straight away Solomons entered into negotiations with the Williams camp hoping to land a title fight in Wales for his fighter. As is often the case in Boxing these negotiations proved long and at times very difficult, with many arguments taking place between the two camps. Eventually Solomons managed to get all the contracts signed for Williams to come to Wales and defend his title (the Williams camp had originally wanted a ten round non-title fight).
The fight was set for 4th September 1946 and would take place in the open air at Ninian Park, Cardiff, Wales. The American Champion Williams would receive 25% of the gate and Ronnie James as challenger 15%.
Ike Williams arrived in the UK in a confident mood and was accompanied by his manager Cornelius ‘Connie’ Patrick and his trainer Harry Curley. But Jack Solomons problems were not yet over. Ike Williams then started making many demands, mainly about the food he wanted to eat, he was demanding such things like fresh fruit everyday. Solomons tried explaining to the Champion that many of the the foods he was asking for were just not available in the UK (remember this was in 1946 and food rationing was widespread). However Ike Williams wasn’t interested in excuses he wanted his requested food, and fast.
Eventually Solomons managed to cater to his demands through some contacts at the American Embassy. Then there was more problems, about two weeks before the fight it started to rain and rain and rain. Not the best of weather for a big outdoor fight. Despite many around him calling for the fight to be prostphoned Solomons insisted that the fight would still go ahead. Thankfully on the morning of the fight the rain stopped and due to this and a lot of hard work by the men preparing the arena the fight wasn’t called off.
In the weeks leading up to the fight the reports from the respective training camps was that Ronnie James was looking fantastic but Ike Williams was looking sluggish and less than motivated, this coupled with the fact that the Champion was still a few pounds over weight on the morning of the fight gave even more hope to the Welsh fans that their fighter would be lifting the Championship belt later that day.
But then the fight began, Ronnie James was a fine fighter but he was no match for the superb Ike Williams who just tore the brave Welsh fighter apart with a vicious body attack. Ronnie James hit the canvas six times that night and showed tremendous heart and bravery but in all truth he was never really in the fight and was stopped in the 9th.
Jack Solomons had made a terrible mistake, Ike Williams was indeed a great fighter who just crushed the pride of Wales that night.
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Apr 24, 1953
Boston, Massachusetts
Boston, Massachusetts
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Caractacus
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Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Possibly may have been Abe Simons "Larrup"doug.ie wrote:March 21, 1941 - Detroit, Michigan
Heavyweight champion Joe Louis, with both feet off the ground, lands a left to the head of the much larger Abe Simon in the 15th defence of his title - the last heavyweight title fight scheduled for 20 rounds.
Joe Louis Stops Abe Simon in Thirteenth Round
Associated Press, March 22, 1941...
The impossible didn't quite happen tonight but it came close enough to throw a substantial scare into Joe Louis and his fistic family before the Bomber was able to do his work.
With just a whale-sized heart and a dazzling left hand, the New York giant, Abe Simon—the big target who wasn't supposed to have one chance in a million of lasting more than three rounds—gave Louis a "helluva" fight of it for 12 full heats before running afoul of the Brown Bomber's big guns in the thirteenth.
With the greatest indoor crowd in Detroit's fistic history jamming the Olympia and gasping in amazement at Simon's sensational showing, Abe gave just about as good as he received until the thirteenth. Then, floored twice by heavy-duty right hand shells, he got up and staggered helplessly into the ropes near his own corner. There, Referee Sam Hennessey rushed in and halted the bout with Louis a tired technical knockout winner at 1 minute, 20 seconds of the thirteenth.
A total of 18,908 fans bulged this big arena at the seams and hung from the rafters to see the hometown champion, and Promoter Mike Jacobs said some 3,000 who couldn't even crowd into the packed standing room sections, were turned away. The gross gate was $56,605.10.
But, although he locked his world heavyweight championship in the safe successfully for the fifteenth time, the great Louis was slightly less than a ball of fire. After it was over, the "experts" agreed he was mighty lucky not to have had to face the speed and left hand of a Billy Conn tonight.
He finished up with a "mouse" under his left eye and the optic half closed and he left the definite impression behind that he is no longer at his peak, although at 202 pounds tonight his handlers insisted he was "in the pink."
Altogether, Louis floored Abe four times during the 13 rounds this scheduled 20-rounder lasted. In the first round—in fact the first punch he threw—Joe whistled a right off Abe's "wiskers" that dropped him near a neutral corner. He was up without a count, however. In the third, another of the same sat Abe down in another corner, and be stayed grinning on the seat of his pants until the referee reached nine.
Then, although Abe was hurt three times afterward, he didn't go down until the thirteenth. For several rounds before that Joe had been stalking the mountainous Manhattanite, obviously holding his fire until he had an open shot.
He got it in the thirteenth. A smashing right dropped Abe near his own corner for nine. He got up as Joe rushed in sensing the kill. Three more rights dropped Abe in almost the identical spot, and again he took nine before climbing to his feet. Joe raced across the ring once more, but this time "our Abe," as Manager Jimmy Johnston calls his gladiator, was helpless and through. He staggered blindly into the ropes and it was all over.
that took Louis off the canvas as he was throwing a left.
BTW
Still havent found out if that fight was ever filmed,
but its live radio broadcast is available on CD.
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
I can see that left hook as if it was yesterday, he didn't go down but I heard the 'aaggh!' and saw his face and from then on I knew I had him.
Once my gloves went on I was in warrior mode. The home crowd for McKenzie never bothered me – I would have fought in Vietnam because it was just me and the opponent in the ring.
After that left hook he knew that I could take him out with one punch, or at least I could hurt him, so that changed everything. Suddenly he realised he was in a fight.
He got so desperate that he tried to butt me in one of the rounds and got a warning from the referee, Randy Neumann. I managed to get out of the way but that could have not only ruined the fight but my career because it would have just opened me up.
I knew I had won, but in boxing you are never sure and Mickey Duff was lifting McKenzie and walking around the ring with him. But if they had given it to McKenzie it would have been one of the worst decisions in history.
When I heard 'and the new world champion' it gave me a feeling like I have never had before... when my hand was raised it was just indescribable.
Boxing is brutal and I remember when my mindset to the sport changed. It was the night Barry McGuigan won his World title at Loftus Road in 1985. I was fighting Bobby McDermott in a British title eliminator and I remember hearing from his corner 'Kill him, kill him Bobby, kill him Bobby and I could see the trainer out of the corner of my eye... that changed my mindset about boxing because to me it was just a boxing match. But it's more than that.
I remember before the fight all that the media was interested in was Duke, and my dressing room was like a ghost-town while you couldn't get near his for journalists. Afterwards it was the reverse, as you could not move in mine and his was empty. I slipped out to see duke to commiserate and I could just not believe the difference that there was, all because he lost the fight. But that's boxing for you - losing is a hard medicine.
(Dave 'Boy' McAuley)
*June 7, 1989 - Dave McAuley w pts 12 Duke McKenzie - IBF World flyweight title - The Arena, Wembley, London, England
Once my gloves went on I was in warrior mode. The home crowd for McKenzie never bothered me – I would have fought in Vietnam because it was just me and the opponent in the ring.
After that left hook he knew that I could take him out with one punch, or at least I could hurt him, so that changed everything. Suddenly he realised he was in a fight.
He got so desperate that he tried to butt me in one of the rounds and got a warning from the referee, Randy Neumann. I managed to get out of the way but that could have not only ruined the fight but my career because it would have just opened me up.
I knew I had won, but in boxing you are never sure and Mickey Duff was lifting McKenzie and walking around the ring with him. But if they had given it to McKenzie it would have been one of the worst decisions in history.
When I heard 'and the new world champion' it gave me a feeling like I have never had before... when my hand was raised it was just indescribable.
Boxing is brutal and I remember when my mindset to the sport changed. It was the night Barry McGuigan won his World title at Loftus Road in 1985. I was fighting Bobby McDermott in a British title eliminator and I remember hearing from his corner 'Kill him, kill him Bobby, kill him Bobby and I could see the trainer out of the corner of my eye... that changed my mindset about boxing because to me it was just a boxing match. But it's more than that.
I remember before the fight all that the media was interested in was Duke, and my dressing room was like a ghost-town while you couldn't get near his for journalists. Afterwards it was the reverse, as you could not move in mine and his was empty. I slipped out to see duke to commiserate and I could just not believe the difference that there was, all because he lost the fight. But that's boxing for you - losing is a hard medicine.
(Dave 'Boy' McAuley)
*June 7, 1989 - Dave McAuley w pts 12 Duke McKenzie - IBF World flyweight title - The Arena, Wembley, London, England
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
(incredible thread.)
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Feb 6, 1983 - Valle d'Aosta, Italy
Ray 'Boom Boom' Mancini vs George Feeney
'One of My Toughest Fights....he's definitely a world-class fighter' - Ray Mancini
...........................................
Mancini fought 10 bruising rounds against Feeney to take home a slim but unanimous decision in his first match since the bout that caused the death of Duk Koo Kim almost three months previous.
The 138-pound Mancini, the World Boxing Association lightweight champion, was cut above the left eye in the seventh round of the nontitle bout and was seriously rocked in the eighth by the durable 134-pound Briton. ''Scary,'' Mancini muttered with undisguised relief as he was led out of the packed, 1,500-seat arena with his victory.
After the fight, Mancini did not shy from the subject of Kim's death. ''With everything that happened, I was under a lot of pressure,'' Mancini volunteered. ''I'm very happy it's over, very relieved. I need mental relaxation now. I had a lot on my mind before this fight.''
'One of My Toughest Fights'
Throughout Mancini's training here, his manager, David Wolf, insisted that Feeney, the British lightweight champion, was a worthy adversary who would provide a real test despite his 15-8 record. It seemed like the typical hype, but the bout proved Wolf right. Feeney took Mancini's left jabs to the body and his sharp combinations to the head and responded in kind, never really looking shaky himself until the very end of the final round.
''That was definitely one of my toughest fights,'' said Mancini, who brought his record to 26-1, ''and I hope nobody's surprised. I said from the beginning that this man was tough and would bring out the best in me. He's definitely a world-class fighter. He definitely has a champion's heart.''
The three judges scored the fight 98-96, 98-96, 98-95, respectively. With the victory, however slim, secured, Wolf said he was pleased it had been such a trying contest. ''This was the fight we prepared for,'' the manager said. ''We knew the guy took a tremendous punch. Now we go back to a title defense without any doubts at all. If it had been an easy fight, we'd still have all those questions.''
The questions that Wolf felt were answered dealt with Mancini's reaction to having delivered the fatal blows to Kim in Las Vegas, Nev., last Nov. 13. Would his fighter be reluctant to pursue an advantage, Wolf wondered, if he were inflicting damage to his opponent?
''He finished hard,'' Wolf said. ''He didn't lay off when he had him hurt. We're right back on course.'' But Mancini was hurting in the seventh and eighth rounds. Feeney cut him above the eye in the seventh and landed blows to the head that opened the cut and wobbled Mancini in the eighth.
The fight was a physical spectacle, but the hours before were a different spectacle, with the excitement beginning Saturday night when 125 Mancini boosters arrived from Bagheria, the Youngstown, Ohio, fighter's ancestral home in Sicily. If they were weary from the 25-hour train journey, it was impossible to tell. Until late in the evening, the lobby of the hotel here rocked with accordion music and shouts of ''Boom Boom,'' the only English words the Sicilians knew.
Mancini was at the center of the tumult, hugging and kissing his great uncle and his cousins, signing autographs and posing for photographs. There were also about 50 people from the Youngstown area here for the fight, including Mancini's parents.
Throughout the afternoon, Mancini's handlers tried to send him up to his room for a nap. Instead, he greeted the Ohio contingent, taught his father to say ''mio piacere'' -''my pleasure to meet you'' - and told his mother about attending mass this morning with the Bagheria relatives at an 11th-century church in St. Vincent.
''He's not just a good boxer, he's a good boy,'' one of the waiters told the fighter's parents in halting English. Arena Conditions Protested
Meanwhile, Wolf was pacing the lobby in distress and threatening to call off the fight. The conditions at the arena, he said, were horrendous: The ring unsteady, the ropes too slack and the padding on the floor too thin. His diatribe seemed a bit theatrical, and he conceded he was especially sensitive to potentially unsafe conditions in the wake of the Kim fight.
While Wolf fumed, Murphy Griffith, the trainer, and Bob Arum, the promoter, walked down the snowy hill to check out the problems at the arena. The ropes would be tightened and the ring steadied, they told Wolf. The padding would have to suffice. The fight would go on.
The Mancini supporters turned out early, filling the arena with Italian songs, more accordion music, and constant cheering for their favorite. They did not get the knockout that they were urging with their chants of ''Mancini, Mancini,'' but they were still happily waving their banners at evening's end.
(by Jane Gross)
Ray 'Boom Boom' Mancini vs George Feeney
'One of My Toughest Fights....he's definitely a world-class fighter' - Ray Mancini
...........................................
Mancini fought 10 bruising rounds against Feeney to take home a slim but unanimous decision in his first match since the bout that caused the death of Duk Koo Kim almost three months previous.
The 138-pound Mancini, the World Boxing Association lightweight champion, was cut above the left eye in the seventh round of the nontitle bout and was seriously rocked in the eighth by the durable 134-pound Briton. ''Scary,'' Mancini muttered with undisguised relief as he was led out of the packed, 1,500-seat arena with his victory.
After the fight, Mancini did not shy from the subject of Kim's death. ''With everything that happened, I was under a lot of pressure,'' Mancini volunteered. ''I'm very happy it's over, very relieved. I need mental relaxation now. I had a lot on my mind before this fight.''
'One of My Toughest Fights'
Throughout Mancini's training here, his manager, David Wolf, insisted that Feeney, the British lightweight champion, was a worthy adversary who would provide a real test despite his 15-8 record. It seemed like the typical hype, but the bout proved Wolf right. Feeney took Mancini's left jabs to the body and his sharp combinations to the head and responded in kind, never really looking shaky himself until the very end of the final round.
''That was definitely one of my toughest fights,'' said Mancini, who brought his record to 26-1, ''and I hope nobody's surprised. I said from the beginning that this man was tough and would bring out the best in me. He's definitely a world-class fighter. He definitely has a champion's heart.''
The three judges scored the fight 98-96, 98-96, 98-95, respectively. With the victory, however slim, secured, Wolf said he was pleased it had been such a trying contest. ''This was the fight we prepared for,'' the manager said. ''We knew the guy took a tremendous punch. Now we go back to a title defense without any doubts at all. If it had been an easy fight, we'd still have all those questions.''
The questions that Wolf felt were answered dealt with Mancini's reaction to having delivered the fatal blows to Kim in Las Vegas, Nev., last Nov. 13. Would his fighter be reluctant to pursue an advantage, Wolf wondered, if he were inflicting damage to his opponent?
''He finished hard,'' Wolf said. ''He didn't lay off when he had him hurt. We're right back on course.'' But Mancini was hurting in the seventh and eighth rounds. Feeney cut him above the eye in the seventh and landed blows to the head that opened the cut and wobbled Mancini in the eighth.
The fight was a physical spectacle, but the hours before were a different spectacle, with the excitement beginning Saturday night when 125 Mancini boosters arrived from Bagheria, the Youngstown, Ohio, fighter's ancestral home in Sicily. If they were weary from the 25-hour train journey, it was impossible to tell. Until late in the evening, the lobby of the hotel here rocked with accordion music and shouts of ''Boom Boom,'' the only English words the Sicilians knew.
Mancini was at the center of the tumult, hugging and kissing his great uncle and his cousins, signing autographs and posing for photographs. There were also about 50 people from the Youngstown area here for the fight, including Mancini's parents.
Throughout the afternoon, Mancini's handlers tried to send him up to his room for a nap. Instead, he greeted the Ohio contingent, taught his father to say ''mio piacere'' -''my pleasure to meet you'' - and told his mother about attending mass this morning with the Bagheria relatives at an 11th-century church in St. Vincent.
''He's not just a good boxer, he's a good boy,'' one of the waiters told the fighter's parents in halting English. Arena Conditions Protested
Meanwhile, Wolf was pacing the lobby in distress and threatening to call off the fight. The conditions at the arena, he said, were horrendous: The ring unsteady, the ropes too slack and the padding on the floor too thin. His diatribe seemed a bit theatrical, and he conceded he was especially sensitive to potentially unsafe conditions in the wake of the Kim fight.
While Wolf fumed, Murphy Griffith, the trainer, and Bob Arum, the promoter, walked down the snowy hill to check out the problems at the arena. The ropes would be tightened and the ring steadied, they told Wolf. The padding would have to suffice. The fight would go on.
The Mancini supporters turned out early, filling the arena with Italian songs, more accordion music, and constant cheering for their favorite. They did not get the knockout that they were urging with their chants of ''Mancini, Mancini,'' but they were still happily waving their banners at evening's end.
(by Jane Gross)
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
The boxer on the floor has just been knocked out in a championship contest. A few days earlier he had saved someone from drowning. Did his heroic act cause his defeat?
Frankie Burns was middleweight champion of Australia, a good-looking young man of 21, pleasant and well-mannered....and had travelled to England to futher his career.
“I was very shy about boxing in front of a big crowd,” he said. “But I am hoping to make good in England, my ambition being to win the Empire middleweight title.”
After a win against Fred Davies at London's National Sporting Club he got his shot at that title against the formidable Ted 'Kid' Lewis in June 1922.
Four nights before his fight with Lewis (at a large skating rink in Holland Park, near Shepherd’s Bush, in London) he was sound asleep in bed when he was awakened by cries for help. Scrambling out of the blankets, he ran down to the towing path where he saw that two men were struggling in the water beside an upturned canoe.
Without hesitating Frankie jumped in and grabbed one man by the hair as he was sinking. He tried to catch hold of the other without success, so swam back to the bank and managed to pull the half-drowned man out of the water.
He yelled loudly for help then dived in again and searched around for the second canoeist, while his manager danced on the toe-path, imploring him to come out. Only when he knew that there were others to continue the search was Burns persuaded to leave the river.
He was wrapped in a blanket and rushed back to bed. It had been a pretty brave thing for Burns to do, for the Australian had no knowledge of the river currents, nor had he given a thought to the risk he was taking in getting a chill that might seriously interfere with his forthcoming championship fight.
The man he had rescued was Capt. Alphonso Austin Smith who, four years later, was to be acquitted of the capital murder charge in the famous ‘Stella Maris’ murder case.
The Royal Humane Society awarded Frankie a medal, but he should have got one for facing Lewis, who entered the Holland Park ring in a most warlike and destructive mood.
It was the famous crashing, bashing Kid at his very best and poor Burns hardly got a look in. True, he fought gamely and to the utmost of his ability, but Lewis was in championship form and kept his man on the strict defensive from the opening bell.
Try as he might, Frankie could not keep his aggressive rival at bay. Lewis would wade in, swinging with both hands and once he had got to close range, he would pound at the body in non-stop fashion.
These tactics gave the Australian little opportunity to exploit his boxing skill, moreover, although he met the Kid with some well-placed punches as he came in, there didn’t seem sufficient power to stop the Londoner.
After five rounds Lewis had established a long lead, but in the sixth he slowed down from his own exertions and Burns made up a lot of leeway.
He did well in the next two rounds, making Lewis miss with some clever evasive work. But the Kid came to life again in the ninth and suddenly landed a full-arm left swing to the chin.
Down went the Australian to a yell from the fans that drowned the voice of the timekeeper. Frankie was so dazed that he rose without taking advantage of the count and stood there swaying – an open target for a finisher.
In tore Lewis, eager to plant a knockout wallop on his rival’s unprotected chin. But at that moment the bell rang out to end the round and Burns was saved.
But only temporarily! He managed to coast through the tenth, but Lewis gave him no rest and although he escaped another damaging delivery, he was a very weary warrior as he went back to his corner.
The Kid had made up his mind to finish things off and tore into Burns at the opening of the eleventh, working him into a neutral corner. Here he bombarded the Australian’s ribs with some hefty digs from each hand then, as Frankie brought his gloves down to protect his midsection, the Kid switched to the head.
Bang! Bang! Left and right hooks rattled Frankie’s teeth and he fell forward into a clinch. Lewis wrenched himself free, stepped back and then whipped in a right hook that carried his full power and strength.
The punch had ‘winner’ written all over it. Burns staggered three paces sideways, then hit the canvas like a picture falling from a wall.
He crashed on his back, his legs waving convulsively in the air. Finally, the soles of his boots contacted the ring post and he seemed to be trying to walk up it. Burns was out to the wide, yet instinctively he was trying to get away from his rival while upside-down.
There was never a chance of him beating the count and as he finally slithered to the canvas, the Kid walked to his corner and held out his gloves to be untied. He knew it was all over.
It was interesting to note that while Frankie Burns failed in his effort to win an Empire title, his son George Barnes became welterweight king of the Commonwealth.
(by Gilbert Odd)
exceprts taken from 'Story behind this picture – Frankie Burns'...the full story can be read here...
http://blog.boxinghistory.org.uk/2012/0 ... burns.html
Frankie Burns was middleweight champion of Australia, a good-looking young man of 21, pleasant and well-mannered....and had travelled to England to futher his career.
“I was very shy about boxing in front of a big crowd,” he said. “But I am hoping to make good in England, my ambition being to win the Empire middleweight title.”
After a win against Fred Davies at London's National Sporting Club he got his shot at that title against the formidable Ted 'Kid' Lewis in June 1922.
Four nights before his fight with Lewis (at a large skating rink in Holland Park, near Shepherd’s Bush, in London) he was sound asleep in bed when he was awakened by cries for help. Scrambling out of the blankets, he ran down to the towing path where he saw that two men were struggling in the water beside an upturned canoe.
Without hesitating Frankie jumped in and grabbed one man by the hair as he was sinking. He tried to catch hold of the other without success, so swam back to the bank and managed to pull the half-drowned man out of the water.
He yelled loudly for help then dived in again and searched around for the second canoeist, while his manager danced on the toe-path, imploring him to come out. Only when he knew that there were others to continue the search was Burns persuaded to leave the river.
He was wrapped in a blanket and rushed back to bed. It had been a pretty brave thing for Burns to do, for the Australian had no knowledge of the river currents, nor had he given a thought to the risk he was taking in getting a chill that might seriously interfere with his forthcoming championship fight.
The man he had rescued was Capt. Alphonso Austin Smith who, four years later, was to be acquitted of the capital murder charge in the famous ‘Stella Maris’ murder case.
The Royal Humane Society awarded Frankie a medal, but he should have got one for facing Lewis, who entered the Holland Park ring in a most warlike and destructive mood.
It was the famous crashing, bashing Kid at his very best and poor Burns hardly got a look in. True, he fought gamely and to the utmost of his ability, but Lewis was in championship form and kept his man on the strict defensive from the opening bell.
Try as he might, Frankie could not keep his aggressive rival at bay. Lewis would wade in, swinging with both hands and once he had got to close range, he would pound at the body in non-stop fashion.
These tactics gave the Australian little opportunity to exploit his boxing skill, moreover, although he met the Kid with some well-placed punches as he came in, there didn’t seem sufficient power to stop the Londoner.
After five rounds Lewis had established a long lead, but in the sixth he slowed down from his own exertions and Burns made up a lot of leeway.
He did well in the next two rounds, making Lewis miss with some clever evasive work. But the Kid came to life again in the ninth and suddenly landed a full-arm left swing to the chin.
Down went the Australian to a yell from the fans that drowned the voice of the timekeeper. Frankie was so dazed that he rose without taking advantage of the count and stood there swaying – an open target for a finisher.
In tore Lewis, eager to plant a knockout wallop on his rival’s unprotected chin. But at that moment the bell rang out to end the round and Burns was saved.
But only temporarily! He managed to coast through the tenth, but Lewis gave him no rest and although he escaped another damaging delivery, he was a very weary warrior as he went back to his corner.
The Kid had made up his mind to finish things off and tore into Burns at the opening of the eleventh, working him into a neutral corner. Here he bombarded the Australian’s ribs with some hefty digs from each hand then, as Frankie brought his gloves down to protect his midsection, the Kid switched to the head.
Bang! Bang! Left and right hooks rattled Frankie’s teeth and he fell forward into a clinch. Lewis wrenched himself free, stepped back and then whipped in a right hook that carried his full power and strength.
The punch had ‘winner’ written all over it. Burns staggered three paces sideways, then hit the canvas like a picture falling from a wall.
He crashed on his back, his legs waving convulsively in the air. Finally, the soles of his boots contacted the ring post and he seemed to be trying to walk up it. Burns was out to the wide, yet instinctively he was trying to get away from his rival while upside-down.
There was never a chance of him beating the count and as he finally slithered to the canvas, the Kid walked to his corner and held out his gloves to be untied. He knew it was all over.
It was interesting to note that while Frankie Burns failed in his effort to win an Empire title, his son George Barnes became welterweight king of the Commonwealth.
(by Gilbert Odd)
exceprts taken from 'Story behind this picture – Frankie Burns'...the full story can be read here...
http://blog.boxinghistory.org.uk/2012/0 ... burns.html
-
misterpunch
- Light Heavyweight
- Posts: 1252
- Joined: 13 Jan 2012, 17:48
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
nice stuff from gilbert odd - anything on boxing by gilbert is excellent.
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Jackie 'Kid' Berg wins "hammer and tongs battle" as Madison Square Garden "rocks with mad cheering.....as mad as anything the Garden ever heard"...
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
July 4, 1914 - Daly City, California, USA
George Chip beat Billy Murray by KO in round 15 of 15 (non-title middleweight bout)
George Chip traveled to San Francisco in the summer of 1914 to take on Fighting Billy Murray, who was on a reported unbeaten streak of forty-nine straight victories dating to January 1912.
Chip got off to a very slow start, as he ceded much of the first half of the bout to Murray. Chip became stronger in the second half of the bout, as Murray became more reckless. Chip scored a knockdown in the 11th round, with a left hook to the head. After this Murray appeared to be concerned with reaching the end of the bout, while Chip who was tired was economical with his punching. In the 15th round, Chip landed a powerful left hook to the jaw, followed by another right to the jaw that put Murray down for the count. The photo shows Chip returning to his corner after that sequence. Referee Jim Griffin stated that Murray was winning at the time of the knockout.
(San Francisco Chronicle)
George Chip beat Billy Murray by KO in round 15 of 15 (non-title middleweight bout)
George Chip traveled to San Francisco in the summer of 1914 to take on Fighting Billy Murray, who was on a reported unbeaten streak of forty-nine straight victories dating to January 1912.
Chip got off to a very slow start, as he ceded much of the first half of the bout to Murray. Chip became stronger in the second half of the bout, as Murray became more reckless. Chip scored a knockdown in the 11th round, with a left hook to the head. After this Murray appeared to be concerned with reaching the end of the bout, while Chip who was tired was economical with his punching. In the 15th round, Chip landed a powerful left hook to the jaw, followed by another right to the jaw that put Murray down for the count. The photo shows Chip returning to his corner after that sequence. Referee Jim Griffin stated that Murray was winning at the time of the knockout.
(San Francisco Chronicle)
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
"Steele was consistently ferocious through the fifteen rounds of battle..."
On July 11, 1936, before his own adoring fans at Seattle’s Civic Stadium, Freddie Steele challenged middleweight champion “Babe” Risko before a crowd of 27,000. Local reporters described the contest as the biggest fight staged in the Pacific Northwest since Jack Dempsey had outpointed Tommy Gibbons at Shelby, Montana, thirteen years previously.
Steele was ready for the challenge and in peak form as he controlled the fight all the way. But what tough men they all were in Freddie’s day. Fighters shrugged off major defeats with the resigned and philosophical air of a horse flicking away the flies. Seven months before, Risko had stumbled into an absolute nightmare at Madison Square Garden in a non-title bout against the fearsome Englishman, Jock McAvoy, whose nickname of the Rochdale Thunderbolt said pretty much everything about him. The Babe was scuttled by the first punch of the contest, a terrific right, and proceeded to visit the mat a further five times before McAvoy blasted him out of the fight in two minutes and fifty-eight seconds.
Steele threatened to finish Risko in similarly quick fashion. In the first round, Freddie uncorked one of his big left hooks to deck the Babe for a count of seven. The omens were not good for the defending champion, yet thereafter he survived the storms that raged around him with admirable grit and skill.
Steele was consistently ferocious through the fifteen rounds of battle, mounting one withering body attack after another. Lesser men than Risko would surely have crumbled under the savage pummeling. Freddie’s sharp punches to the face so often had the effect of a slash from a saber on his many opponents. One reads constantly of how the Tacoma Assassin’s blows would not merely tear the other man’s skin. They would open deep and damaging cuts.
He opened cuts over both of Risko’s eyes, but the Babe was determined to hang in there and keep punching. Steele, seemingly tireless, rarely slackened his pace. Risko was stunned again in the tenth round when Freddie doubled up with a left hook to the chin and a left to the body.
But Steele was much more than merely an attacking force. He also displayed excellent blocking skills, preventing Babe from scoring effectively with short lefts to the head.
Risko, showing a world champion’s pride, never stopped trying to the end. His work improved in the later stages of the contest as he engaged Freddie in toe-to-toe warfare with some success. But the Babe had given too much away and simply couldn’t overcome the wide points deficit.
The Associated Press was glowing in its summation of Freddie: “Steele has done all his boxing on the Pacific coast. Just twenty-three years old, he has the height, reach and hitting power of a heavyweight.”
(by Mike Casey)
On July 11, 1936, before his own adoring fans at Seattle’s Civic Stadium, Freddie Steele challenged middleweight champion “Babe” Risko before a crowd of 27,000. Local reporters described the contest as the biggest fight staged in the Pacific Northwest since Jack Dempsey had outpointed Tommy Gibbons at Shelby, Montana, thirteen years previously.
Steele was ready for the challenge and in peak form as he controlled the fight all the way. But what tough men they all were in Freddie’s day. Fighters shrugged off major defeats with the resigned and philosophical air of a horse flicking away the flies. Seven months before, Risko had stumbled into an absolute nightmare at Madison Square Garden in a non-title bout against the fearsome Englishman, Jock McAvoy, whose nickname of the Rochdale Thunderbolt said pretty much everything about him. The Babe was scuttled by the first punch of the contest, a terrific right, and proceeded to visit the mat a further five times before McAvoy blasted him out of the fight in two minutes and fifty-eight seconds.
Steele threatened to finish Risko in similarly quick fashion. In the first round, Freddie uncorked one of his big left hooks to deck the Babe for a count of seven. The omens were not good for the defending champion, yet thereafter he survived the storms that raged around him with admirable grit and skill.
Steele was consistently ferocious through the fifteen rounds of battle, mounting one withering body attack after another. Lesser men than Risko would surely have crumbled under the savage pummeling. Freddie’s sharp punches to the face so often had the effect of a slash from a saber on his many opponents. One reads constantly of how the Tacoma Assassin’s blows would not merely tear the other man’s skin. They would open deep and damaging cuts.
He opened cuts over both of Risko’s eyes, but the Babe was determined to hang in there and keep punching. Steele, seemingly tireless, rarely slackened his pace. Risko was stunned again in the tenth round when Freddie doubled up with a left hook to the chin and a left to the body.
But Steele was much more than merely an attacking force. He also displayed excellent blocking skills, preventing Babe from scoring effectively with short lefts to the head.
Risko, showing a world champion’s pride, never stopped trying to the end. His work improved in the later stages of the contest as he engaged Freddie in toe-to-toe warfare with some success. But the Babe had given too much away and simply couldn’t overcome the wide points deficit.
The Associated Press was glowing in its summation of Freddie: “Steele has done all his boxing on the Pacific coast. Just twenty-three years old, he has the height, reach and hitting power of a heavyweight.”
(by Mike Casey)