The Boxing Biographies Newsletter
Volume 2- No 8 18th March , 2008
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The Battling Nelson Story
ENDS SEASON WITH A DEFEAT.
I concluded the siege of 1901 in old "Jonahville," Milwaukee, tying up with Charley Berry again. We -met the night after I had cleaned up big middleweight Walsh, and I felt as though I was due to close up the final chapter of the reason by licking Berry. He pursued his same old tactics of stalling, holding on in clinches and dancing around the ring, keeping out of harm's way, and as a result I hardly got a chance to hand over my sleep pills during the fight. I just couldn't shake the hoodoo, and though I was giving him the worst of it whenever I got near him, and at the finish was smothering him with blows, he was awarded the decision on "points." So ended the hardest and unluckiest year of fighting experienced by me during my entire career - 1901.
SYNOPSIS OF TAD'S LIFE.
(BY BAT.)
T. A. Dorgan (the cartoonist, who has several illustrations of my career in this book), known the world over as TAD is a very unique person, indeed. He was born amidst flowers and sunshine. He first saw the light of day in San Francisco, Cal., Sunday, April 29, 1877. He was reared in the same neighborhood as Jimmy Britt, Frankie Neal and Joe Kennedy, which is known as South of Market.
When Tad was still a good sized kid his folks moved over to the Hayes Valley district. Incidentally he was compelled to move along with his folks.He was still in a neighborhood of such noted mitt pushers as James J. Corbett, Joe Choynski and others of note, and consequently got interested in sports such as boxing, foot racing and, in fact, every sport known to the kids.
As a mere stripling he befell an accident to his right arm, rendering that wing paralyzed. He has been compelled to earn a living with his one remaining mitt his left, or south paw which, by the way, is a sure enough ''bread winner."
TAD A 'REAL SCRAPPER
He went through grammar school and graduated at the head of his class. While attending school he was a frequent visitor to the fighters training camps and drew many cartoons of the fighters doing their training stunts. He also got so that he could use his mitts or rather his remaining mitt, and had all the boys of his size buffaloed with his skill as a glove wielder. Graduating from grammar school he went to the Polytechnic High School, where Miss Van Vleck gave him his first real lessons. After graduating from the Polytechnic High School he secured a job from the San Francisco Bulletin, drawing fashion plates for no salary. After six years of working on that paper he had worked his way up to being a "Sporting Cartoonist," and was receiving the largest salary ever paid a man in that department on that paper. The last year's work was of such rare quality that all the leading papers in the United States were bidding for his services.
ARTHUR BRISBANE LANDS TAD
Arthur Brisbane, one of the cleverest editorial writers, and, without a doubt, the highest salaried newspaper man in the world, sought his services. After out biddingall others he secured Tad's "John Hancock" to an agreement to work as sporting cartoonist of the New York Journal, where he has been dropping them ever since with "one punch." Tad, in my estimation, as a cartoonist, is in a class all by himself.
CHAPTER VII.
Bat Nelson's Father Makes Him Fight
for Honor of Hegewisch, and He Wins.
In 1902 the Battler engaged in eleven fights, and received $873.50 in purses. I got an early start of it in 1902, beginning early in January and continuing uninterruptedly up to almost the close of the year. I faced the referee just eleven times. I fought 78 rounds all told. I managed to win eight of my eleven starts. I knocked out four of my opponents, and won the decision over four others. When I had finished my fight with Charley Berry, in December, 1901, it was getting close on to Christmas, and it was up to me to hike back to Hegewisch. I am awful strong for Christmas at home and that hanging up the stocking thing still has a hold on me. Every Christmas as regular as a clock I hang up my sock, and my good old mother never fails to see that Santa Claus puts something in it.
With $50 in my pocket I reached Hegewisch two days before Christmas Eve, and I had to get very busy, as all the kids were writing letters to Santa Claus and giving them to me to "mail." The little rascals were wise about Santa Claus, but they tried to make me believe that they were not, and, of course, I "fell." I couldn't buy everything they wanted, because one of them wanted a big balloon with a parachute so that they could go up and make parachute leaps! Can you beat that?
On Christmas Day my father called me into the little parlor and said he wanted to have a talk. "Now, Bat," he began, and then he told me that he wanted me to stop the fighting business. "Before you leave home," he said, "you must promise."
WOULD NOT PROMISE TO QUIT THE RING.
I wouldn't exactly promise, but told him I would think it over. So we all went downtown. The crowd in Hegewisch usually hangs out at Dad Knight's bar. Just as we went in the door two fellows were having an argument.One of them was from Pullman, where they make the sleeping cars. In Hegewisch we have the largest car works in the world, but we only make working
cars, such as flat cars, freight cars, etc.
The Pullman fellows think they have something on us because they make fancy cars, and there is always an argument about which is the better town. "Maybe you do make the best cars/' said the fellow from Hegewisch, "but you can't fight over there." "Can't fight?" snapped the other fellow. "What's tearing at you? Why we've got the greatest fighter in the world at Pullman, and he can lick anything that ever growed in Hegewisch. I'd like to see you show some guy who could face Frankie Colifer. Why, he's a whirlwind."
"Get out!" cried the Hegewisch man. "Hegewisch can beat anybody in Pullman at anything, and I'll bet you on it." Just then he spied me and the old man as we came in the door."Say, kid," he said, "can't you lick any body your weight in Pullman?" I said "I was willing to try, and would take a chance at it anyway."
"You tink dey got boy over dere vot can beat my boy vot?" my father flared up in his funny Danish dialect. "Veil, ve'd lack to see him. My boy bane a vender;" and the old man was getting all worked up. He had forgotten all about my promising not to fight any more.
HIS DANISH FATHER GETS ANGRY.
"I bet I bet I bet you von tousand dollars," the old man said excitedly, as he kept getting redder in the face. "Leek my boy vot?" "Bat," he said turning to me, "you go an' leek dis Pullman boy, and eef you dake a leekin veil, I leek some myself, huh? vot ?"
There was nothing to it now. I had to fight for the honor of Hegewisch, and the fellow who was boosting me patted me on the shoulder and said : "Now bring on your fancy Pullman fighter !"
For the next few days the town was wild with the talk of the coming fight and they were betting their shoes. The same thing was going on in Pullman, which was just six miles away. We boys had two weeks in which to get ready, and on Jan. 13, 1902, everybody in Hegewisch went over to West Pullman to see the go. The town was closed up. It was a general holiday. We fought in an empty barn adjoining Pete Kelley's saloon, and the bout was to have gone six rounds.
This fellow Colifer was a pretty good fighter at that, but I remembered that I was battling for the honor of my home town, and I tore at him like a demon. The building was packed so that it bulged out at the sides. On one side the Pullman employees were pulling for their man, and on the other it seemed to me like all the Danes and Swedes in the world were pulling for me. You know I had made peace with the Swedes by this time, and they were working in perfect harmony with us Danes. This time we were all together. Everybody in the town had made a little bet.
HAMMERED AT THE RIBS.
The first few rounds went along pretty even, but I was hammering away at Colifer's wind, and it was beginning to tell. In the fifth round while the Danes and Swedes were talking all sorts of languages and yelling for me to go on I cracked Colifer in the stomach. He doubled over and as his head came down I hung a beaut squarely on his chin and he flopped over on the mat. By this time the Hegewisch crowd was crazy with joy. Colifer was very limp and took the full count of nine, and then to everybody's surprise, he got up. He was certainly game to the core. As he got to his feet I set myself and got a clean right-handed swing on his jaw. This put him out for good, and we had a hard time bringing him back to consciousness. The last word I heard as I started to jump out of the ring was, "An' dey dink dey can leek my boy, vot !" followed by a familiar chuckle. The old man was still on the job.
I was handed fifty one dollar bills' for my victory, and I won that much more in bets that I had made with the Pullman employees. My success in saving the fighting honor of Hegewisch appeared to take all of the talk out of the old man about making me quit the game. From this time on he was a dyed-in-the-wool fight fan. To this day he thinks there is nobody in the world who "can leek his boy, vot!" and, between you and me, his son Battling has got somewhat of the same notion.
HIS TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE IN RING.
Anyway the change in my dear old father was enough to warrant me in starting out again. Having had good luck in Wisconsin I journeyed that way again, and it was at Fond du Lac, two weeks later, that I met Charley Berry for the third and last time.
I had lost, as stated, a close decision to Berry the December previous, and he challenged me again. This time we had eight rounds, though I held out for twelve or fifteen rounds. Like our previous battle the affair went the full eight rounds. He fought a pretty stiff sort of a battle throughout, but although at no time did he have the best of the fighting, Referee Tom Ryan of Oshkosh awarded the plum to him. In the final rounds I forced Berry through the ropes in my anxiety to put him out. Fearing he would be killed, as the drop to the floor was about eight feet, I tried to catch him as, he was falling. I did this because I figured I had gained a big lead and thought that I had the battle wrapped up. Therefore I grabbed him to check the fall, in order to give his fat manager Paddy Dorrell a chance to protect his man. Paddy during the excitement made a misstep in his corner and fell, and Berry tumbled over him, thus saving himself from a hard fall. I was in the wreck and tumbled headlong over a chair, my head striking a post, almost knocking- me out as well.
The gong sounded and Referee Ryan held up Berry's hand as the winner. I received $75 for my end, though I lost out.
FINALLY BEAT JOE PERCENTE.
Joe Percente and I met for the fourth and last time at Oshkosh, Wis., on March 13, 1902. I had caught a bad cold after the Berry affair, and when I weighed in, clothes and all mind you, the beam scarcely tipped 130 pounds. I was game, however, and went in to hand Sir Joseph a good beating. I carried the fight to him and won the bout in handy fashion.
RETURNS TO WINDY CITY AND KNOCKS OUT KID RYAN.
I RETURNED TO CHICAGO after the win over Percente, and was matched with Kid Ryan in the feature bout, on a lovely St. Patrick's Day evening, March 17, of course. Strange to relate, I had previously fought on each Irish day of celebration, and had managed to win each time with a knockout. Ryan, will be remembered by the fight fans of Chicago and vicinity as a slashing sort of a boxer. He tried his rushing tactics on me early in the fight, but after I had met his fierce rushes with a series of telling uppercuts and left hooks, he backed up a bit and allowed me to do the leading. The bout, according to the announcer, was to go six rounds. It didn't, however, as in the fifth round I sailed in and hooked Ryan "crooly" on the jaw several times, also using my left half-scissors hook on the liver, and down he went for the fatal ten seconds. I was handed $75 for the job. Besides I won a nice little side bet.
WINS DECISION OVER CYCLONE JOHNNY THOMPSON.
THE WEEK FOLLOWING the knocking out of Ryan found me matched with the then coming Cyclone Johnny Thompson. We tied up on the night of March 21, and there was surely a cyclone all right that struck the place but it was not of the Thompson variety. No, it was another of those Nelsonian whirlwinds which even at that date was scouting about knocking aspiring young pugilists into oblivion and other places. The Cyclone was prettily dusted out of wind in the early rounds of the battle, and his famous "funnel" shaped cloudy rushes wouldn't work at all. I beat him into submission in the final rounds of the fight, though did not knock him completely out. I won the decision easily ; also the snug sum of $100 purse money. Going up a bit in the financial world ?
CHAPTER VIII.
Champion Knocks Out William Rosser
in Two Seconds, the Shortest Fight on Record.
As a rule, I do not gamble on fights, but occasionally I make exceptions, and I have always been exceedingly fortunate in picking winners. This is due largely to the fact that in the fights in which Battling Nelson has participated I have always bet on myself. As a beginner, however, I didn't have enough money to risk on the result of my ring battles, and I was very well satisfied to get the purse. The greater part of my earnings was sent to my mother, and I had very little pocket money that I could afford to lose. Shortly after I had licked Cyclone Johnny Thompson, in March, 1902, I began to take on a lot of confidence, and I made up my mind that I would put down a bet on myself the next time I started, if a good chance was offered and I could keep my mother from finding it out. It came quicker than I expected. William Rosser, a lightning fast young lightweight, and at that time the pride of West Pullman, and a boy who had been defeating every Chicago fighter who dared to come into his bailiwick, sent me a challenge after I had stopped the Cyclone. With a large party of my Hegewisch friends and backers we journeyed over to Harvey by buses, buggies, automobiles and in every manner imaginable. We were about 250 strong.
MAKES A WILD BET.
About a week previous to the fight while training at my White House Club at home, Frank Reiger, one of those talkative fellows, dropped into the club rooms and asked me what I thought of my chances in the coming fight. I jokingly said, "Why, I'll knock him out in a round." Reiger, who had been continually belittling my ability as a fighter, at once offered to bet me $40, to $4, or $10 to $1, that I wouldn't knock him out in a round. I, thinking it was only a bunch of hot air, dug down in my jeans and took up the bet. Reiger immediately appointed George Wickham as stakeholder and handed him the $40. Of course, I put up my four, thinking he would try and crawl out of the bet any moment. But the stakeholder forced him to keep his coin up.
Now that the bet was made and the money posted it was up to me to figure out ways and means to win that fight in a gallop. I immediately made up my mind to get that one round money if I never fought again. I notified my backers that I would show the Harvey sports three minutes of the fastest fighting they ever saw in their lives, if Rosser lasted that long. Having that forty dollars in view all the while, I made up my mind that I wouldn't allow him to get a start. When we were called to the centre of the ring for instructions I had the scheme figured out. Instead of retiring to my corner, as is customary, I decided to take a step toward his corner.
WORKED LIKE A CHARM.
The trick worked like a charm. As the timekeeper rang the bell Rosser raised out of his chair, and he was just within nice hitting distance. The bell had not ceased ringing before I shot a terrific right-hand swing flush on his jaw. He tottered a step forward and fell in the centre of the ring. Rosser tried hard to get up and made two futile efforts to rise, but only got to arm's length, and by the time the referee had tolled off seven seconds he dropped on his face and turned over on his back and remained for the full count, only to be carried to his dressing room by his handlers.
My only punch was so well directed that it was hours before he regained consciousness. This is the shortest fight on record. Malachy Hogan, who officiated as referee in the famous Martin Flaherty-Dai Hawkins fight at Carson City, Nev., March 17, 1897, which lasted four seconds, also officiated in our fight. He makes affidavit to the effect that our contest was the shorter of the two. I received for the job $50, or an average of $25 a second.
PRESENTED WITH GOLD WATCH.
The following day I was presented with a nice solid gold stop-watch by Billy McLatchey for my two-second knockout of Rosser. My brother "Art" was a spectator, although a mere kid. It being very late in the evening when the fight took place he fell asleep on the benches and some of the crowd suggested to him that he stand up so he could see the fight. "No," he said sleepily, "I had better sit down so that I can't fall off the bench in case Bat gets hurt." "Art" to-day is not sure that he saw the punch that put Rosser out, although he saw him fall to the floor. The following day I collected my bet of $44 won from "Noisy Reiger." He is to this day being chided by the bunch around Hegewisch because of the bet he
made when he thought he had a cinch. That was by far the most satisfactory bet that I ever won.
PULLMAN AGAIN GETS AMBITIOUS.
At this time it began to look as if those Pullman fellows were never going to get enough. I had hardly got through talking about the quick victory over Rosser when a young fellow named Danny McMahon, of Philadelphia, whom I had fought before, wanted to take up Pullman's fight, and I had to hustle over there and meet him. The fight ended in a draw and that was the closest I came to losing a decision in the town which loves my native Hegewisch like Battling Nelson loves the smallpox. This was giving me good experience, however, and as
long as I kept winning I was perfectly willing to take a chance.
A few days thereafter I was sitting on the front steps of our home in Hegewisch when a fellow came along and asked me if I was "Kid" Nelson. "Some call me 'Kid' and some call me 'Battling.'" J replied, "I guess either one will do." "And you think you are some fighter, eh?" he asked in a sneering way. "That's just about the size of it," I came back at him. "Well," he answered. "You don't look so good to me. I think I can lick you myself." "Vot, you dink you kin leek my boy, vot!" My old man was just sticking his head out of the door to get in
the argument.
CHALLENGED ON MY DOORSTEP.
The fellow said his name was Pudden Burns, and I found that he was a citizen of Hegewisch and worked at the car shops. "Go and get some money," I told him, "and then we'll talk." He reached right down in his pocket and came out with a roll. There was nothing to it. I had another fight on my hands. In two hours the whole town was talking about the coming bout, and we arranged to have the mill in the Hegewisch Opera House, a block from my home. This fellow Pudden Burns wanted to show me up right in my home town, and I always have had a sneaking idea that the Swedes put him up to it. They didn't want to see a Dane winning all the glory.
That fellow gave me a tough fight of it, however, and stayed the full six rounds, though I mauled him all over the ring. At the end of the last round the referee gave me the decision and Pudden didn't kick. He said he thought that I had won. I got $75 for turning, this trick, and that entitled me to stay a few more days at home. By this time my father had given up all idea of making me stop the fighting game and very privately one day he said: "Go ahead, veen de champeenship!" With that to urge me on I finally made good.
As a matter of fact I think my start for the championship began that week. I went over into Indiana again and was jobbed out of a decision when I met Billy Hurley at Hammond. The referee called the bout a draw, and the affair came near winding up in a free for all fight.
LOST CONFIDENCE IN OFFICIALS.
I was losing confidence in the honesty of officials and I decided to quit that part of the country entirely and seek a new field. It was during the early part of July, 1902, when I packed up my fighting togs, bundled up my Spalding fighting shoes, and, after bidding the folks good-bye at home, I hiked over to the freight yards and a few minutes was cozily settled beneath the body of a big freight car which was tagged for the South. I had heard many yarns about the hot sports of Hot Springs, and thought there was a good chance for me to get on in a few bouts during the big season. Then, the curative properties of the water, I figured, would do much to build me up and make me strong.
After several days of hunger and other hardships I found myself rudely thrown out from under the car, and there I was at last, safe and sound, in the Springs of good old Arkansaw.
TOMMY BURNS AND AUSTRALIAN SQUIRES.
After Jeffries quit the fighting game, there were just two heavyweight ring events in which it was considered that the championship of the world was involved. The first of these was the battle between Tommy Burns and Champion Bill Squires of Australia. The other was a championship struggle beyond doubt. Reference is made to the bout in far away Australia when Burns lost his newly acquired title to Jack Johnson, and a black man for the first time in pugilistic history was hailed premier heavyweight fighter of the world.
In the Burns-Squires affair there were arguments as to whether the meeting was really entitled to be considered a fight for the championship. On the plea that Burns had beaten the best of the white heavyweights, and that Tommy was entitled to bar black men the way Jeffries had done before retiring and the further plea that Squires had proved himself the king-pin of the Australian heavies, the majority of sporting men graciously admitted that the Squires-Burns fight should be considered a world's championship engagement.
Squires trained for the fight at Billy Shannon's in San Rafael, and Barney Reynolds supervised the Australian champion's preparation. Tommy Burns trained at Harbin Springs under the guidance of Professor Lewis.
The men met in Coffroth's Mission-Street arena on July 4, 1907. When the opening gong clanged, and Referee Jeffries motioned the men together, Burns backed around the ring and Squires followed. The Australian made a couple of lunges at the little fellow who was dancing away from him, and then tried to wedge Burns into a corner. Burns clinched, and laughed as he leaned his chin on Squires' shoulder.
"Break," yelled Jeffries, and as they dropped their arms Burns bounded lightly to mid-ring. Squires began to crowd his man again. Burns waited until the Australian champion came within striking distance, and then sent in a right hander which sounded like the crack of a pistol. Squires went to the floor and rolled over. He was blinking as he arose, and there was a big lump on the side of his left eye.
Although unsteady and dazed, Squires lumbered after Burns, and as Tommy went into a clinch the Australian dealt the Canadian a stiff right hand body punch, and followed it with a left hander on the side of the face. It looked for a moment as though the body punch had hurt Burns, but Tommy pulled out of the clinch, and felled Squires with another snappy right hander.
Squires fell a second time, and the finish was in sight. He arose clumsily, and lurched toward Burns. Burns measured him now with a third right hander, and before Squires tumbled, gave him still another. This time Squires went down for keeps. He was too far gone to make the slightest effort at getting to his feet, and was counted out.
Burns was lifted shoulder high and carried from the ring by his friends.
Jake Kilrain
Three Fights Stand Out As My Greatest Thrills
EVERY sport celebrity has had some colorful happening in his career that stands out as his greatest performance. The superlatives of sport are ever interesting. The greatest game of the various major league pitching stars, the greatest play of the All-America football stars and the greatest shot of the golf champions always carry a thrill.
It was only natural that I should ask Jake Kilrain what fight lie regarded as the greatest of his career. He hesitated some time before
replying, as if going over the many high spots of his ring record. "Three events in my fight career hold about an equal place for real thrills as far as I was concerned.
"The first came when I engaged in the initial big test of my career, my bout with Joe Lannon. The second was my 106-round fight with Jem Smith
in France and the greatest of all, when I met John L. Sullivan in our now historic battle of 75 rounds.
"I came from Baltimore to Boston to battle Lannon. It was rumored the bout would be stopped by the police. I was told to stand at the corner of Charles and Beacon streets at 8 o'clock and that a cab would come along and pick me up. In that same cab was Lannon. "I had no idea where the bout was to be held. We rode a considerable distance and finally stopped at a spot near Watertown, Mass. The audience was very exclusive, 11 men each paid me $100 for my end of the purse. I won the bout in 10 rounds. That was the first big thrill of my career.
"My meeting with Jem Smith in France was my second thrill. The purse was for $10,000, a mighty big one in those days, 1887.
"At that time I claimed the championship of the United States. John L. Sullivan had broken a bone in one of his arms and was unable to accept my challenge. I, in turn, claimed the title because of his refusal to meet me. That was more or less customary then. Didn't mean much.
"Smith at the time was the European titleholder, so the match was billed as the championship of the world with a $5,000 side bet, real money, too. "It was a terrific battle, staged under most unusual conditions, the bout being held in the open on a cold winter's day. At the end of the 106th round it was stopped by the referee, who declared it a draw. "My bout with John L. Sullivan, then the champion, was of course the greatest battle of my career from any angle that you consider it. Here I was meeting the world's greatest fighter for the heavyweight championship and the fame and money that goes with such a title. "This bout was staged at Richbourg, Miss., and was the last American prizefight. Shortly afterwards the Marquis of Queensbury. rules supplanted those of the London prize ring code.
"Sullivan won this bout when my seconds tossed the towel into the ring as the bell rang for the 75th round. Both of us were very weak. Had my second not acknowledged defeat, there is no telling what the result might have been. I will always think my chances were as good as Sullivan's.
"There you have the three big thrills of my career as a, fighter." .