Guard For Cross Counter Blow: There are three different ways known to science of the present day to avoid a cross counter blow. The first and most common being to duck the head. The second by placing the right hand on the left side of the face. The third by shifting the left arm, immediately after striking the blow, directly opposite the position in which it lands. Cut No. 6 shows a guard for cross counter by shifting the left arm into the shape of the letter V turned upside down. This last guard is decidedly the safest way to avoid a cross counter blow, for while ducking the head you are liable to be hit with a left hand uppercut, and if you place the right hand on the left side of your face, you are compelled to leave your body entirely unguarded. I usually obtain better results by shifting the arm and accordingly prefer to use and recommend it.
– George Dixon, “A Lesson in Boxing” (1893)
In early 1893, railroad speculation triggered the worst economic depression in the United States prior to 1929. Within a year of the railroad stock collapse, estimates of unemployment in the United States ran as high as eighteen percent and would remain over ten percent for nearly three years. During the winter of that first year, thousands starved and thousands more wandered the country looking for work. Violent labour conflicts ensued – the Carnegie Steel Works Strike and the Chicago Pullman Strike among the most infamous. Such economic strife made the already contentious divisions between class and race in America even worse.
And this was reflected in the boxing ring.
* * *
In July of 1893, nearly a year after the Carnival of Champions, George Dixon, Tom O’Rourke, and likely Kitty Dixon travelled together to Chicago to see the World’s Fair – the Columbian Exhibition. How they spent their time and what they saw is uncertain, but they must have enjoyed themselves. George Dixon had achieved a level of success unmatched in boxing.
After his fight with Jack Skelly, Dixon defended his title nearly twenty times without a single loss against the best fighters in New York, Philadelphia, and Washington. He fought the formidable Walter “Kentucky Rosebud” Edgerton four times, drawing the first two and winning the next two. He also fought in numerous exhibition fights. He was flush with money and filled with the confidence of long success, with steady offers for more lucrative fights still to come.
The future seemed full with promise.
The clear title of champion had been bestowed on Dixon by no less than the editor of the Police Gazette, the unofficial arbiter of such matters in boxing. Against continued claims that Dixon was not the featherweight and bantamweight champion, editor Richard K. Fox wrote, “Dixon is entitled to the high honors [featherweight and bantamweight champion] that O’Rourke claims for him and the Police Gazette will back that claim to the limit.”
Dixon was now entering a new phase of his boxing career, no longer chasing the respect due to an up-and-comer, and no longer pursuing the acclaim due to a champion. He was cashing in. Since professional athletes of that time did not have endorsements to augment their winnings (though they could bet on their own fights as an alternate means of income), it was common for boxing champions to tour in the vaudeville circuit for a healthy addition to their income. John L. Sullivan had established the model. The champion would gather together performers of all kinds for a travelling roadshow – dancers, singers, jugglers, and comics. Central to the entire performance, of course, was an exhibition bout by the champion against all comers.
Dixon, never one to miss such a lucrative financial opportunity, was quick to follow in Sullivan’s footsteps.
An advertisement for Dixon’s vaudeville troupe ran in the Lowell Daily Sun on Wednesday, November 22, 1893. “Lowell Opera House, One Night, Wednesday, November 22. George Dixon’s Vaudeville and Specialty Company. Our lists of Artists – Binns and Burns, Musical Artists. Byron and Evens, two Comedians. Kitty Nelson, Song and Dance Artist, and Champion Lady Swing and Buck Dancer of America. Wills & Barton, Comedy Duo. Van and Lesley, Refined Sketch Artists. Maliel Guver, the Vital Spark. Patterson Bros., Kings of the Horizontal Bars. Murphy and McCoy, Irish Comedians. Sisters Aleene, introducing the Gauze Dance. Prof. Jack Lynch of Philadelphia, Sparring Partner of George Dixon. George Dixon, Champion Featherweight of the World, will meet all comers in his class and forfeit $50 to any man he does not outpoint in 4 rounds. 75, 50, 35, 25, 10 cents.”
That night, “a fair sized audience … comprised principally of men gathered at the Opera House to see George Dixon, the champion featherweight pugilist, and a clever variety show.” The variety show was well reviewed, but the main event of the evening was the four-round demonstration with Tom Moriarty of Lowell. It was to be a “scientific contest for points … and should a knock-out blow be delivered, it will be by accident.” The four rounds were a clever exercise in dodging. The crowed cheered enthusiastically with each blow.
These vaudevillian shows were wildly popular among boxing fans, but they could also invite trouble. Just a day after the performance in Lowell, Massachusetts, for instance, Dixon found himself in the Lawrence Police Court being fined $100 by Judge Stone for “assault on a ‘soft shelled slugger’ of that town who wanted to stand up before Dixon.” Noted the newspaper, “The defendant appealed.”
* * *
Not long after Dixon earned his title, and perhaps, in part, because he had achieved his great goals, Dixon fell into a period of drift. His disciplined attention to the boxing craft wavered as he looked to increase his income in the vaudeville circuit. And with that life came greater engagement in the sporting life. “After winning the featherweight title,” wrote Nat Fleischer of Dixon, “wine, women and song were sweet music to his ears.” In Boston, Dixon frequented the local saloons. So, too, in the San Juan Hill section of Manhattan, between 59th and 65th Streets, Dixon revelled in the nightlife of the sports community.
Although always free with his money, Dixon increasingly became a notable spendthrift. At the start of a given week, after a major fight, he would have earned thousands of dollars, “only to find it necessary before the week was over to borrow enough money to get him through.” He became an “inveterate player of the ponies,” though “he lost more than he won.” He also “purchased horseflesh,” and was said to have owned “a number of good trotters and wasted considerable money on them.”
Dixon was also uncommonly generous. “Many an orphan and widow had cause to remember his charity,” wrote Nat Fleischer, “for like the immortal John L., he gave freely when requests for charity were made.” So, too, Dixon was conscious of being a prominent Black man in late-nineteenth century America. “He was a bona-fide good Samaritan to impecunious fellows of his own race,” added Fleischer, “his hand always being in his pocket when appeals were made from colored folk with hard luck stories. He also contributed large sums to Negro missions and to schemes for improving conditions of colored people both at home and abroad.”
* * *
Dixon’s second professional loss came as a surprise. “The other bout [after George Wright in 1889] which was decided against me,” recalled Dixon in late 1893, “was with Billy Plimmer of England who was given a decision on points in a four round glove contest which took place at Madison Square Garden, New York City, a few nights after I defeated Eddie Pierce. I will refrain from saying anything further about this contest for reasons which I cannot publicly state.”
The fight with Plimmer occurred on August 22, 1893. Billy Plimmer claimed the English bantamweight 110-pound championship. It was said before the fight that Dixon did not train as hard as he might, because he felt Plimmer would not put up much resistance. Besides, thought Dixon, he had won a decisive fight two weeks earlier, on August 7, against Eddie Pierce in three rounds. In his mind, his fitness could not have been too diminished.
After three preliminary four-round bouts between other fighters, Dixon and Plimmer entered the arena. Dixon slipped through the ropes and into the ring first, receiving a hearty roar of approval from the crowd. He waved and made his way to his corner. Plimmer then arrived, and he too received a “big reception” as he entered through the ropes and into the ring. Dixon smiled as the referee discussed the rules, while Plimmer maintained a “determined look upon his countenance.”
When the bell rang, Dixon attacked, “eager to knock out Plimmer.” He threw a series of well-executed combinations, but Plimmer proved quicker, sidestepping the assault. The two mixed and clinched then broke. Plimmer landed a left on Dixon’s chest. Dixon responded, only to have Plimmer dodge. Plimmer then delivered a combination left to Dixon’s chest and right to his neck. When the first round bell rang, it was clear that Dixon was surprised by Plimmer.
Round two saw Dixon move to the centre. He was still smiling, but offered a more determined attack. Yet it was Plimmer who took the charge. Dixon swung for Plimmer’s neck, but Plimmer got well inside the punch. When Dixon pulled back, Plimmer delivered a straight left to Dixon’s neck. “This rattled Dixon,” noted The Boston Globe reporter. In response, Dixon swung at Plimmer’s jaw and missed. He then rushed forward and caught Plimmer on the jaw with his right. The audience, expecting Dixon to overwhelm Plimmer, became fully engaged now and excited by the uncertainty. “Bedlam,” said the reporter, “was let loose in the building.” The cheers and jeers became louder as Plimmer jabbed his left into Dixon’s stomach, then slipped away before Dixon could respond.
Plimmer now smiled.
“His grin was wicked,” noted the reporter.
Sensing an opportunity, Plimmer pressed the attack, striking Dixon’s ribs with a right and his cheek with a left. The sound of the crowd grew even louder. Dixon tried to respond, but he missed with wild swings. “He was very badly mixed up,” noted the reporter.
Then for a brief stretch, Dixon rallied. He landed a straight left on Plimmer’s mouth and sidestepped Plimmer’s counter. Plimmer then landed a left to the neck. But when the bell rang, it was still clear to all that Plimmer had the best of it.
Round three saw Dixon trying to make up for two lost rounds. He swung hard to Plimmer’s jaw only to have Plimmer again slip away. Dixon rushed in and caught Plimmer on the neck with both his right and left. Plimmer countered to the jaw. Dixon worked the ribs in a combination.
Then the two fell into a clinch.
When they broke, they stood toe to toe and exchanged blows. And, again, they clinched. This time when they broke, Plimmer struck Dixon so hard in the face, Dixon’s head snapped back.
He was rattled.
He swung wildly but missed Plimmer. “The crowd looked on in wonderment,” wrote the reporter. Dixon cornered Plimmer and struck with combinations to the head and chest, only to have Plimmer counterpunch with an equally good combination. Both fighters were soon exhausted and fell into a clinch that the referee had to break.
When the bell rang, Plimmer had again outfought Dixon.
At the start of round four, Dixon approached Plimmer with an expression of dead seriousness. He tried two quick strikes to Plimmer’s head but missed both. He swung his left, connecting with Plimmer’s cheek. Then the “fists flew as fast as bullets in battle.” Plimmer landed a right on Dixon’s cheek, Dixon a left on Plimmer’s ribs. More punches were thrown. Many were dodged. As the time ticked down, Dixon grew increasingly wild, missing with great swings from the left and right. After one missed blow, Plimmer countered with a right so hard it knocked Dixon back. Dixon leaned against the ropes as Plimmer raced forward to finish the job.
Only the bell stopped the unrelenting assault.
While the fighters walked to their corners, Referee O’Donnell announced that Plimmer was the winner. Plimmer jumped in the air, overjoyed. He ran over to Dixon, shook his hand, and said “something pleasant.” Dixon was “well-behaved,” wrote the reporter, “as he always is, [and] smiled pleasantly in return.” Chaos broke out amid the crowd. Many rushed into the ring. Some congratulated the referee for “the justice of his verdict.” Others swarmed Plimmer. Some even “picked him up, threw him from one to the other, patted him, hugged him, kissed him on the forehead and cheeks, pulled his ears and told him he was the greatest little man in the world.”
Twenty-five police officers cleared a path, and Plimmer was carried on shoulders into the crowd. More than two hundred people remained in the ring where they “tore down the stout, wooden posts, six inches thick, in the excess of their crazy joy.” They “howled and cheered.”
Shocked and disappointed, George Dixon moved slowly through the crowd and into his dressing room. Since the fight was not “to the finish,” the result did not affect Dixon’s featherweight title. “Dixon’s defeat,” wrote the Police Gazette, “in no way detracts from Dixon’s reputation as regards the championship of featherweights, for he still retains that title as the battle was not to the finish.” In the minds of many, however, the loss suggested that, for the first time, George Dixon, the bantamweight and featherweight champion of the world, was finally vulnerable.
* * *
Two days later, Tom O’Rourke sent a letter to the Police Gazette. “Since the 4-round boxing contest between Billy Plimmer and George Dixon,” he wrote, “I understand that Plimmer believes he can defeat Dixon, and his admirers are also confident that he can do so. I will match the featherweight champion of the world to fight Plimmer at 114 pounds for $5,000 or $10,000 for the Police Gazette featherweight belt and the featherweight championship of the world. To prove I mean business, I have posted $1,000 and will agree that the fight shall take place any time suitable to the club offering the largest purse. I allow the weighting to take place at 1 p.m. because I do not want to overtax Dixon, who is fighting below his weight. If Plimmer’s backer covers the $1,000 I have posted and names a day to meet, the match can be arranged without any trouble, as both Dixon and myself mean business, and the $1,000 posted proves it.”
Plimmer was no fool. Knowing he had more to gain by not fighting Dixon “to the finish,” he declined the offer.
* * *
Just a month later, Dixon took on Solly Smith, a promising up-and-coming featherweight, in a proper title defense. The fight was set for a $9,000 purse, the winner taking home $8,000. The fight went on for seven rounds, with exciting exchanges and even notable threats by the challenger. Yet, in the end, Dixon won the bout by a technical knockout. Dixon was pleased with this victory, but he noted the considerable skill of the young Smith.
He had a sense they would meet again.
* * *
In December 1893, Dixon took on “Torpedo” Billy Murphy in Paterson, New Jersey. The fight was lopsided, with Dixon winning easily. The most entertaining moment of the fight came when referee James Stoddard separated Dixon and Murphy in a third-round clinch. Murphy pulled free, turned, and inadvertently struck Stoddard on the nose. Infuriated, Stoddard responded by delivering two quick blows to Murphy, who then clinched with the referee. Dixon, no doubt amused by the sudden change of events, leaned against the ropes and watched until the local police captain stepped into the ring and, acting as the referee, separated Murphy and Stoddard. Murphy was disqualified.
In mid-February 1894, Dixon found himself in court again, this time charged with assault and battery, a crime he was alleged to have committed in Lawrence, when Dixon’s vaudeville troupe came to town. Patrick J. Hennessy took the stand and explained that during the troupe’s tour of Lawrence, Dixon announced he would meet all comers in a four-round bout for points. Hennessy volunteered to engage in the bout. He expected “glory and a little money as a result of his go.” But it did not turn out that way.
“He punches hard,” said Hennessy and claimed Dixon had injured him. When he argued with Dixon after the show, explained Hennessey, Dixon ignored his concerns. So Hennessey contacted the police. The lower court found against Dixon, so Dixon made an appeal, which he lost.
He paid his $100 fine.
In February, Dixon fought a charity bout in Lowell, Massachusetts, and later sparred for charity at a casino in New York in October.
On one evening around this time, while performing in New York’s Bowery, Dixon got into a disagreement with Tom O’Rourke. O’Rourke lost his temper and swung at Dixon, striking him in the face. Rather than strike back, Dixon walked away and considered dropping O’Rourke as his manager. His friends talked Dixon out of it. If O’Rourke would shake hands first, said Dixon, he would forget the incident. O’Rourke did. But Dixon never forgot.
The long-standing relationship was showing outward signs of strain.
* * *
Dixon faced his first knockdown in March of 1894 during an exhibition bout with Walter “Kentucky Rosebud” Edgerton. Edgerton was a promising young Black fighter who had arranged an exhibition fight with Dixon as part of a fundraising effort for the poor of Philadelphia. Dixon had been unwell after his long trip to the city, and the two fighters agreed they would spar gently.
During the second round, seeing an opportunity for easy fame, Edgerton ignored the agreement. When Dixon lowered his hands, Edgerton struck hard at him with a left, which Dixon parried, only to be caught by a subsequent right to the neck. “Dixon,” noted the Middletown Daily Argus, “went down like a log, his head striking the floor a hard crack, which probably stunned him.”
More than twenty thousand dumbfounded spectators at the Philadelphia Industrial Hall watched the referee pick Dixon up and sit him in his corner chair. It took a full minute and a half before Dixon “realized what had happened.” Dixon was still able to finish the scheduled three rounds and would deny that Edgerton had fairly knocked him down.
Later in the month, Edgerton issued another challenge to Dixon. “Seeing that George Dixon, the featherweight champion, denies that he was knocked out by me when we boxed in Philadelphia on March 22, I wish to state that he was out, for he was unconscious for nearly five minutes, and 10 minutes elapsed before the third round commenced. I could have knocked him out in the third round, but my backer James McHale would not allow me to do so. Now to settle the question, I will fight George Dixon at 118 pounds for $2,500 to $5,000 a side and the featherweight championship of the world, and I will be ready to meet Dixon and his backer at the Police Gazette office on Wednesday, April 4, at 11 a.m., to post deposit and sign articles, if O’Rourke accepts this challenge. Should O’Rourke not accept, I shall claim the featherweight championship, and stand ready to fight any man in the world [for] the title.”
Dixon was furious and wanted to settle the matter. So the match was arranged for May 7, 1894. The result was predictably anti-climactic. Dixon won the bout decisively in four rounds.
* * *
By early 1894, Dixon had reached a level of success few in boxing had or ever would find. His life as champion and with Kitty seemed the very definition of success. The two owned a large house in fashionable Malden, just north of Boston, said to be worth more than $10,000, a staggering sum, and Dixon had spent a good deal more on it. The Boston Globe reported he would return from his fights and retire with a cigar to his “favorite room” there, where he collected “rare works of art and bric-a-brac, and books of which he is very fond.” Dixon was “possessed of a large amount of intelligence and [was] very fond of reading,” his favourite author being Charles Dickens.
* * *
In June of 1894, George Dixon took on another Australian – Albert Griffiths, who fought under the name Young Griffo. Griffo was a square-jawed tough from Millers Point in New South Wales. He “was not known as much of a puncher, but his skill was uncanny,” noted the Tacoma Daily News. “He had wonderful headwork, almost impenetrable defense, dazzling feints, and a rapid two-handed method of attack. The cleverest boxers and hardest punchers were made to look ridiculous when exchanging with him. He had a dislike for training and was deemed lazy. [And] there were times he got drunk before a match.”
Dixon would face Young Griffo three times, each proving a pitched battle. Their first fight in Boston ended in a twenty-round draw. They fought again in January 1895, on Coney Island, drawing again after twenty-five rounds. And finally, they drew for a third time, in October of 1895, after ten rounds.
Dixon was finding the up-and-coming challengers more difficult to defeat.
Two contemporary drawings show the Dixon-Griffo fight on Coney Island. In the first, a man with long sideburns and a mustache, dressed in a policeman’s uniform, weighs the gloves. Beside him, two other men, no doubt the boxers’ representatives, look at the scales intently. In the second drawing, the two fighters are shown engaged in the ring. Dixon throws a straight left at Griffo’s chin, while Griffo counters with a weak right to Dixon’s jaw. The referee, wearing a tie and coat, darts behind them to avoid their movement. Hundreds of men, most wearing bowler hats and mustaches, watch with various states of enthusiasm. Some are shouting while others appear to be gambling.
Young Griffo was well-known for his drinking and rough behaviour on the town after a fight. Not long after their second bout, Griffo came across Dixon in a New York saloon. Griffo was already drunk and low on money, so he pressed George for a loan. Dixon, never one to refuse such a request from a fellow boxer, offered him $150. Griffo took the money and headed out to continue drinking. Not an hour later he returned, having spent $50. He started complaining in front of Dixon and his friends about “the rotten deals he got in his two ring combats with Dixon.” Dixon just laughed. In a fit of rage, Griffo took the remaining $100 from his pocket and laid it on the bar, betting he could defeat Dixon in a fight then and there. Again, Dixon laughed. By this point the bar owner had called in a “burly Irish cop,” who sent Griffo into the street.
“What do you think of that,” laughed Dixon to his friends. “Only this afternoon I gave up one hundred and fifty bucks to mister Griffo, on a quick touch. And here he comes around wanting to fight me with my own money.”
In August of 1894, Dixon and a friend drove along a quiet stretch of road from Boston to his home in Malden. The carriage was stopped by three “highwaymen” who emerged from the bushes. One of the men grabbed hold of Dixon’s horse and “began to torment the animal.” Dixon, still seated in the carriage, calmly told the men to stop. They laughed and began calling him names. Finally, Dixon lost his temper and stepped down from the carriage. When the first of the men tried to attack him, Dixon dropped him with one punch. A second tried his luck and found himself in the same position. Dixon then chased after the third until all three ran off.
Through the remainder of 1894 and into the first half of 1895, Dixon travelled widely with his vaudeville troupe, fighting in exhibition bouts once or twice each evening. Along the way, he defended his title in Wilmington, Philadelphia, Coney Island, New York City, and Louisville against Joe Flynn, Billy Whistler, Young Griffo, Sam Bolen, and Charles Slusher, drawing in two fights and winning three.
In the evenings, after his fights, Dixon took to spending his time in town, carousing with the local sports, drinking and gambling. It seems unlikely that Kitty was travelling with him through this period, as he now spent increasing amounts of time away from home. His drinking and gambling and carousing must have caused considerable strain on their marriage, though again this is uncertain. What is certain, though, is that Dixon’s habits outside the ring were chipping away at his positive public persona.
On May 18, 1895, The New York Times reported that Dixon had been arrested in Grand Central Station in New York City for being “drunk and disorderly.” He was on his way back to Boston with friends when, under the influence of liquor, he walked into the “parlor car, where the women were.” Dixon then “made a beastly exhibition of himself,” being “profane and boisterous, and scared the women.” It was also said that he annoyed passengers in the cars of the Shore Line express. The train had left at 1:00 p.m. and caused “considerable excitement.” On arrival at Grand Central Station, Dixon “resisted arrest.” He was locked up at the Grand Central police station and later bailed out by O’Rourke for $500. He appeared at the Yorkville police court to face charges for his behaviour on May 20.
The gruelling vaudeville travel and countless fights continued. Over the next year, Dixon defended his title nine times while still fighting exhibition bouts in his travelling show – Tommy Connelly in Boston, Mike Leonard in New York, Johnny Griffin back in Boston, Young Griffo and Frank Erne and Peddlar Palmer in New York, Jerry Marshall back in Boston, Kentucky Rosebud in Philadelphia, and Martin Flaherty in Boston. There were draws and wins and continued celebrations with drinking and gambling.
In late June of 1896, a physically and mentally exhausted Dixon announced he would take some time to relax through the summer and “appear in several important bouts in the fall.”
A few days later, he announced a split with Tom O’Rourke. The Boston Post reported, “O’Rourke [was] far more incensed with George Dixon for jumping than he was with [his other notable boxer, Joe] Walcott.” The cause for the split was never made clear. However, Dixon’s spending was a point of increasing friction. O’Rourke tried unsuccessfully to keep Dixon on a budget. Dixon resisted. As well, one wonders if Dixon’s carousing, and perhaps his womanizing, had caused too much strain with Kitty and by association with Tom O’Rourke. In either case, the split was traumatic for all involved.
The Boston Globe reported that Billy Madden was now in charge of George Dixon’s affairs and would manage him, but by mid-August Dixon had split with him as well. “It appears,” reported the Waterloo Daily Courier, “that there must have been something amiss in the camp of Billy Madden and George Dixon, for now Dixon denies that Billy is his manager and that he had any right to make any matches for him.”
By that autumn, Tom O’Rourke and George Dixon – and perhaps by implication George and Kitty as well – had resolved their differences, at least temporarily. “In Boston,” reported The Boston Globe, “it is believed that Tom O’Rourke and George Dixon will soon resume their old relations, Dixon having discovered that good managers are scarce.”
A renewed Dixon, perhaps having made promises to O’Rourke about serious training, returned to fighting, engaging in as many as fifteen bouts a week. Most were still vaudeville exhibitions, but some were title defenses, coming as often as twice or three times a month.
Dixon’s good behaviour, though, did not last long. Between bouts, his drinking was said to have worsened. “The little man began to step up his drinking,” noted a reporter discussing the arc of Dixon’s career after his fight with Jack Skelly in New Orleans in 1892, “carousing in the deadfalls of San Juan Hill, a seamier section of New York.” Despite this, Dixon still managed to earn draws and wins against the best fighters in the game.
But it would not be long before he showed serious signs of weariness and weakness.