Coney Beach, August 29 1960, Dick Richardson v Brian London
Posted: 30 Oct 2007, 11:31
What with the Calzaghe fight in town this weekend, the local rag has been looking back at other fights in South Wales over the years .......
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nothing can compare with the Porthbrawl!
Oct 30 2007 by Dan O'Neill, South Wales Echo
SO it’s all eyes on the Millennium Stadium on Saturday for this year’s Fight of the Century, unbeaten Joe Calzaghe defending his super-middleweight title against Denmark’s unbeaten Michael Kessler. Two days before Bonfire Night but boy, are we expecting fireworks.
Yet it’s a safe bet that no matter how hard these warriors go at it, their November explosion in Cardiff won’t match what happened almost half a century ago on a humid August night in, of all places, Porthcawl.
This was the night when they decided to keep blood-spattering violence in its proper place – the ring. Trouble was, it wasn’t just the fighters doing the blood-spattering. It was managers, trainers, sponge-and-bucket men. Everyone.
No wonder veteran ringsiders reckoned they should have renamed the place Porthbrawl.
But to begin, as another noted fight fan once wrote, at the beginning.
Coney Beach, August 29, 1960, a date so distant Cardiff City were on their way to the old First Division.
Here they were, Dick Richardson, the Toughest Taffy of ‘Em All to his fans, European heavyweight champ, determined to live up to his reputation as one of Britain’s most belligerent battlers. And Brian London, the Blackpool Bruiser, from a famous fighting family, and another truly hard man.
Britain’s heavyweight scene was thriving in those days with Cardiff’s Joe Erskine and Our ‘Enery as well as London and Richardson, never real world title challengers or champs like Calzaghe, still offering a lively domestic scene.
This one would be more lively than most.
By the end of the sixth round London, the more skilful boxer, was way ahead of the Welshman on the scorecard. Then Richardson unloaded a left hook that cut London’s eye.
“It wuz ‘is ‘ead ref,” London moaned, glaring at Richardson, who swore back at him as the ringsiders cheerily told each other this was a real grudge fight as promised.
Somebody should have told them, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.
For before the bell sounded to start round eight, London leapt out of his corner and charged Richardson. The referee ordered him back but then, as Our Man At Ringside reported: “London, his eye bleeding and swollen, came rushing in again like a man who appeared to have lost control of his senses.”
Both boxers were shouting and swearing at each other until the ref bravely dived between them. He looked at London’s swollen eye, then raised Richardson’s hand.
Instantly, the outraged London lurched towards the Welshman, pushing his trainer Johnny Lewis out of the way. As Richardson tried to defend himself the Blackpool boxer’s father and seconds jumped into the ring. The bald-headed battler Jack London, himself a former heavyweight title holder, started pounding Lewis as his son was held back in one corner.
Everyone working with the fighters joined in and for several minutes, one eye witness recalled, the ring was “like Dodge City or the OK Corral.”
Wally Lesley, Richardson’s manager, was knocked out in spite of Jack Solomons (“Mr Boxing,” to Our Man), appealing in vain for order.
It took more than 20 coppers to get it. And another nine to keep the fans away from London as he was hustled back to his dressing room. To add to his anger his purse was withheld pending an inquiry.
After the fight Richardson revealed “London called me some pretty vile names in which the Welsh people as well as myself were insulted.” So he was acting to avenge these unseemly racial slurs, then. Good on yer, Dick.
He added, somewhat wistfully, “I had a wonderful opportunity of really hurting him during the schemozzle which followed the fight. I actually had his head locked around the rope under my left arm.”
Dick resisted the temptation to strangle his rival, maybe because he, too, was due to appear before the stewards – following his disqualification in his previous fight against the American Mike De John.
Well, it all happed a long time ago and really, it was never a great fight. Until after the final bell, that is.
We’re told Saturday’s punch-up is unmissable. But you can bet it won’t offer the fireworks that made the Richardson-London brawl one of the most memorable nights of boxing ever seen in South Wales.
If only for all the wrong reasons.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Any of you old fellas remeber it?
Sounds an interesting night
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nothing can compare with the Porthbrawl!
Oct 30 2007 by Dan O'Neill, South Wales Echo
SO it’s all eyes on the Millennium Stadium on Saturday for this year’s Fight of the Century, unbeaten Joe Calzaghe defending his super-middleweight title against Denmark’s unbeaten Michael Kessler. Two days before Bonfire Night but boy, are we expecting fireworks.
Yet it’s a safe bet that no matter how hard these warriors go at it, their November explosion in Cardiff won’t match what happened almost half a century ago on a humid August night in, of all places, Porthcawl.
This was the night when they decided to keep blood-spattering violence in its proper place – the ring. Trouble was, it wasn’t just the fighters doing the blood-spattering. It was managers, trainers, sponge-and-bucket men. Everyone.
No wonder veteran ringsiders reckoned they should have renamed the place Porthbrawl.
But to begin, as another noted fight fan once wrote, at the beginning.
Coney Beach, August 29, 1960, a date so distant Cardiff City were on their way to the old First Division.
Here they were, Dick Richardson, the Toughest Taffy of ‘Em All to his fans, European heavyweight champ, determined to live up to his reputation as one of Britain’s most belligerent battlers. And Brian London, the Blackpool Bruiser, from a famous fighting family, and another truly hard man.
Britain’s heavyweight scene was thriving in those days with Cardiff’s Joe Erskine and Our ‘Enery as well as London and Richardson, never real world title challengers or champs like Calzaghe, still offering a lively domestic scene.
This one would be more lively than most.
By the end of the sixth round London, the more skilful boxer, was way ahead of the Welshman on the scorecard. Then Richardson unloaded a left hook that cut London’s eye.
“It wuz ‘is ‘ead ref,” London moaned, glaring at Richardson, who swore back at him as the ringsiders cheerily told each other this was a real grudge fight as promised.
Somebody should have told them, you ain’t seen nuthin’ yet.
For before the bell sounded to start round eight, London leapt out of his corner and charged Richardson. The referee ordered him back but then, as Our Man At Ringside reported: “London, his eye bleeding and swollen, came rushing in again like a man who appeared to have lost control of his senses.”
Both boxers were shouting and swearing at each other until the ref bravely dived between them. He looked at London’s swollen eye, then raised Richardson’s hand.
Instantly, the outraged London lurched towards the Welshman, pushing his trainer Johnny Lewis out of the way. As Richardson tried to defend himself the Blackpool boxer’s father and seconds jumped into the ring. The bald-headed battler Jack London, himself a former heavyweight title holder, started pounding Lewis as his son was held back in one corner.
Everyone working with the fighters joined in and for several minutes, one eye witness recalled, the ring was “like Dodge City or the OK Corral.”
Wally Lesley, Richardson’s manager, was knocked out in spite of Jack Solomons (“Mr Boxing,” to Our Man), appealing in vain for order.
It took more than 20 coppers to get it. And another nine to keep the fans away from London as he was hustled back to his dressing room. To add to his anger his purse was withheld pending an inquiry.
After the fight Richardson revealed “London called me some pretty vile names in which the Welsh people as well as myself were insulted.” So he was acting to avenge these unseemly racial slurs, then. Good on yer, Dick.
He added, somewhat wistfully, “I had a wonderful opportunity of really hurting him during the schemozzle which followed the fight. I actually had his head locked around the rope under my left arm.”
Dick resisted the temptation to strangle his rival, maybe because he, too, was due to appear before the stewards – following his disqualification in his previous fight against the American Mike De John.
Well, it all happed a long time ago and really, it was never a great fight. Until after the final bell, that is.
We’re told Saturday’s punch-up is unmissable. But you can bet it won’t offer the fireworks that made the Richardson-London brawl one of the most memorable nights of boxing ever seen in South Wales.
If only for all the wrong reasons.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Any of you old fellas remeber it?
Sounds an interesting night