Evening Express
Tuesday, October 9, 1934
The Gong Has Gone
A fighter says good bye to the Ring
By
Dick Burke
Dick Burke the Liverpool Whirlwind has fought his last contest….the red haired Irish battler, at the age of 22, has received doctors orders to hang up the gloves for ever.
“You must give up boxing”
No sentence pronounced by a judge in court could mean more to any man than the above words said to a boxer by his doctor.
I know because I have just heard them. I have got to give up the game. I have heard the count from the most inexorable referee. I shall miss the ring more than I dare think. I suppose I would not mind so much If I had had a long innings ; had managed to claim some of the golden rewards that a boxing career can bring. But I am, so far as boxing goes, still very young.
Twenty two is not a great age, and when I think how very near I have been to having the rich prizes of the game within my hands I sigh for my lost opportunities.
Somehow the really big rewards have always eluded me. I have defeated many champions and stopped many others on their way up the championship ladder.
But I have always missed the title myself by a hairs breadth.
Still I am not complaining one little bit. It has been a great time. My only fault I suppose I must attribute to my Irish blood is that I have always been too impulsive.
In all my fights I have always swung into my opponent, taken terrific punishment needlessly, because I have always been terribly anxious to make a “Go” of it and satisfy my supporters who have come to see me live up to the nickname they have given me.
It is that which has finished my boxing career.
After my last fight with Albert Roothooft, Rotherham I was taken to hospital where the doctor told me how for the last six months I had courted death by going into the ring.
I was left with partial paralysis and although I am now fit and well for ordinary life, I am forbidden to enter a boxing ring.
Looking back now, it seems ages since I first dropped into the Red Triangle Lad’s Club, in Everton, one night five years ago. I was seventeen, and for the first time donned a pair of boxing gloves. I suppose I must have had some natural qualities as a boxer.
I know I felt a strange thrill as I weighed into my first opponent. I became an enthusiastic amateur and won my first seven fights.
Then over confident I tackled a much bigger fellow and received a real hiding.
That set me back for a few weeks. I wondered if I was really as good as I thought . I thought I was.
So I asked for another fight. I won it so easily, and felt so gloriously confident after it that I decided there and then to go in for the game professionally.
The one day I was invited to call in to the gymnasium kept by Mr. Charlie Phillips, who had handled every Liverpool boxer of note. I got my first big chance through him when I was brought to the attention of Mr. Johnny Best.
It was the usual custom for a beginner to be given a six round contest, and I suppose it was a tribute to my abilities that I started off in a ten round fight.
That started me off. I went anywhere and everywhere for a fight , the harder the better. I was determined to get there, and to do it quicker than anyone had done it before. I suppose it was this over anxiety which had so much to do with the punishment I took.
I believed that real boxing was ninety percent attack. I looked down on those boxers who relied only on defence; dodging and swaying and feinting and holding. I still believe that my idea is right and that more points should go to the man who takes the fight to his opponent.
I had 72 fights in under four years, have won 54, drawn 6 and lost 12.This works out at about one every three weeks for four years.
It has been uphill work too because at first I wouldn’t tackle anyone unless he was worth while and above me in class and reputation; later no one but men well up in the game would tackle me.
Johnny Peters, Little Minor, Phineas John ,Freddy Webb, Mendiola , Boy Edge, Bert Kirby, Johnny King, Bernasconi, Dick Corbett right up to Al Brown the world champion himself; I have fought them all and I think I can say without conceit that nearly every one of those fights stand out in boxing history.
Let me tell you of one of my fights with Al Brown, that extraordinary coloured world bantam champion the freak boxer the “six foot” bantam.
I was matched with him first at Sheffield , nearly two years ago It was the chance of a lifetime.
The fight was not for the title, but I knew that if I could beat him nothing on earth would prevent me getting a shot at the title. I would visualise the glittering prize of the ring coming my way at last. I piled into him from the start, trying to break through his extraordinary defence.
He was an amazing fellow light as a feather on his feet, forever moving and flashing his long arms in at unexpected moments. It puzzled me at first, but I kept at it and gradually I think my persistence began to count.
Every round was a ding dong affair, and the crowd round the ring were going mad with excitement. When the gong went on the last round, there was a dramatic pause. Then Al Brown’s arm was raised and I knew I had lost on points, and he rushed over to me to congratulate me on one of the hardest fights he had had.
The most dramatic moment in my career came when I got a return contest with Brown six months later. It was at an open air show in Grimsby.
This time I knew my Brown better and I put everything I knew into it. I knew I was scoring well and I felt strong and confident.
Then my bad luck started towards the end of the fight when I verily believe I had piled up a lead in points. A cut over the eye started to bleed.
The fight was nearing the end and I carried on. It was the last round and with blood streaming down my face I slashed into Brown as if possessed . I could hardly see what was happening but I saw someone step between us.
It was the referee. He had stopped the fight thirty seconds from the last gong. It was a terrible disappointment, for which even the congratulations of men famous in the boxing world could not atone.
I had another great battle at Bell Vue against Dominic Bernasconi the Italian bantam champion. A few weeks before I fought him I had seen him knockout Johnny then the British champion.
He had a peculiar over arm swing and when it connected it had a deafly effect. I decided the only way was to fight him hard, and went in with a set purpose. It was a terrific battle all the way, but I had the satisfaction of beating on points the man who had vanquished the champion..
Here I would like to pay a tribute to Mr. Johnny Best and to thank him for the chance he gave me at the stadium to climb the boxing ladder; .and Mr Harry Fleming who later managed me.
He was more like a father than a manager and I was very happy in his Manchester”camp”.
And know I am out of it, but still have a lot to fight for. I have a good companion in my wife who married me when I was just starting out on my boxing career with high hope in my heart.
We had worked together at a Liverpool upholstery factory – Guy Rogers of Soho street -and I used to tell her of my ambitions. We got married when we were eighteen with nothing much more than ambition and courage to start on
We have two little girls – Sheila, who is now two and a half, and Maureen, born on my twenty second birthday a week ago.
The principal of the old firm where I used to work has kindly offered me my job back. So I still will be “leather pushing” although there will be no crowds or applause where I work among chairs and chesterfields.
But at least I will have memories, and as I watch from the ringside other Liverpool boys climbing up the ladder of fistic fame, I will recall the four glorious yeas in which I topped the bill, fighting my way through every difficulty to find the prize swept away as I neared he summit.
And at least I will have some satisfaction in knowing that my name will go down in boxing history alongside those of Nel Tarleton, Dom Volante ,Alf Howard and a hundred others who have kept Merseyside’s name bright in boxing annals.
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