Guard For Pivot Blow: There are many different ways in which the ‘pivot’ blow can be avoided. For instance, by jumping back, by ducking the head or stepping to the left of your opponent while he is turning around to deliver the blow. Cut No. 10 shows a guard for the ‘pivot’ blow as well as giving you a chance to land a counter blow. To accomplish this guard, raise your right forearm in a perpendicular manner and the blow being of a swinging nature is bound to come against the arm in the same manner as shown in the accompanying cut. As soon as your right arm meets your opponent’s right arm, strike out with your left hand for the body, and unless he is an exceptionally quick fellow in getting away, you will have landed a straight left hand blow under or near the heart. Take good care not to drop your right forearm guard as your opponent may try to land what is known as a ‘shifting’ blow with his left hand. The ‘shifting’ blow is the most effective left hand blow that is known.
– George Dixon, “A Lesson in Boxing” (1893)
Unable to find a rewarding life after boxing, and likely unable to keep money in his pocket, Dixon returned to the ring and began a long, slow decline. He fought Tim Callahan in June 1900, losing in eight rounds. Then he drew with Benny Yanger in an uninspiring six rounds. He fought Terry McGovern again in late July, losing in six rounds.
A week later he fought Tommy Sullivan in Brooklyn. Reported the Durango Democrat, “The one time invincible Dixon succumbed to Tommy Sullivan, of Brooklyn, at Coney Island tonight. The end came as the men shaped up for the seventh round, when Tom O’Rourke admitted defeat for his man, and claiming his left arm was disabled, refused to permit him to continue. Dixon was getting the worst of it. Sullivan was willing to mix it up on the slightest provocation and the consensus of opinion was that Dixon was well beaten.” O’Rourke knew Dixon was no longer up for the challenge, and the two parted company.
Dixon felt betrayed.
In February 1901, Dixon accepted a fight with Harry Lyons, who was five inches taller and nearly ten pounds heavier than Dixon. When asked by a reporter, Tom O’Rourke said George was “unfit” to enter the ring. An anonymous letter sent to Baltimore Police Chief Hamilton indicated that Dixon was “in bad physical condition and that serious results might occur should he receive a ‘rib-roaster’ or solar plexus blow.” Though never implicated, O’Rourke may well have written the letter.
On the night before the fight, Chief Hamilton and Deputy Farnan asked Dixon to report to the police station for an examination. Dixon arrived and stripped for the officers. Dixon smiled. “Give me a thump in the ribs,” he said to the chief, “and see if you make me grunt.” The chief did not smile. He just shook his head and pronounced Dixon fit to fight.
The match surprised most, as Dixon gave as good as he got, earning a draw after the scheduled eight rounds. “The entire bout was very pretty from a scientific standpoint,” reported The Boston Globe. “Dixon deserved the credit on account of the handicap of meeting a bigger and stronger adversary.”
In the spring of 1901, Dixon travelled alone to Colorado, to Ryan’s Sand Creek training camp where future heavyweight champion Jack Johnson, who was in attendance, would describe the fighters as “a motley crew of scrappers.” Indeed, the best boxers in world passed through – heavyweights Jack Johnson, Tom Sharkey, Bob Armstrong, and “Mexican Pete” Everett; welterweight “New York” Jack O’Brien; and featherweights Abe Attell, Young Corbett II, and George Dixon. Also present were trainers Spider Kelly and Tommy Ryan. The young Jack Johnson remembered it as an outstanding gathering of gifted fighters who spent their days trading punches and nights trading stories.
On August 16, 1901, Dixon fought Young Corbett II in Denver. He had again promised to retire from the ring if he lost. But when he lost, he kept on fighting. A week later, with Jack Johnson acting as his second, Dixon fought the gifted Abe Attell to a ten-round draw. Johnson later claimed he earned $150 on the fight and doubled it gambling.
In September 1901, Dixon travelled to Missouri to fight Benny Yanger, losing in fifteen rounds. In October, he fought Abe Attell twice more, first in Cripple Creek and then in Saint Louis, in front of sellout crowds. “The milling was tame throughout, the blows of both principals lacking steam,” reported The Boston Globe about the second Attell fight. “There was a great deal of clinching in every round. The decision was displeasing to the majority of the spectators, who were of the opinion that Dixon was entitled to a draw at least.”
In early December, Dixon announced he would take a rest for several months. “He surely deserves one,” commented The Boston Globe. But by mid-December 1901, Dixon was back in the ring, losing to Austin Rice in Connecticut, drawing with Joe Tipman in Maryland, and losing to Eddie Lenny in Baltimore. For the next five months, Dixon travelled north and east, fighting lesser and lesser boxers and earning smaller and smaller purses: a win against Chick Tucker in Connecticut, a draw against Billy Ryan in Ottawa, Ontario, another draw against Danny Dougherty in Philadelphia, and a loss against Eddie Lenny in Chester, Pennsylvania.
In June 1901, he fought Eddie Lenny again, falling in the ninth round and cutting his cheek. He tried to rise but was advised to take the count. And for some time afterward, he was “very groggy.” He then lost to Biz Mackey in Ohio and drew with Tim Callahan in Philadelphia.
Given the declining quality of his fighting, Dixon was likely drinking heavily and training little. At the same time he spent his money as fast as he earned it, and he found himself, again and again, with no choice but to return to the ring.
Unable now to get a good purse in the United States, Dixon decided he would leave America. He travelled by boat to England on July 16, 1902. The move left many believing that George had finally retired. In August 1902, the Fort Wayne Morning Journal announced, “Dixon to Leave the Prize Ring.” The article said Dixon was to retire, “and it is about time that he did so.” It noted that he had a career “equaled by few in his class” but that he had stayed in the ring too long. “Had he retired three years ago, he would have been spared the humiliation of defeats by McGovern, Young Corbett, and others, and his reputation would have been correspondingly better.” Dixon’s career was reviewed in the article, which claimed Dixon had fought in more than four hundred bouts and that he had earned more than $250,000. According to the paper, Dixon left for England because he had been hired by The Black Bass Athletic Club as a boxing instructor.
And though unclear, it seems that Dixon’s move to England signalled the end of his relationship with manager Tom O’Rourke and with his wife Kitty.
* * *
In January 1902, a performance of Uncle Tom’s Cabin took place at the Academy of Music in Chelsea, Massa-chusetts. The house was packed. The audience had come to watch the former heavyweight champion John L. Sullivan play the role of Simon Legree. And “spurred by the plaudits of the excited spectators, John L. acted as an actor never acted before.” Sullivan, it was said, worked up to the climax of the story where Legree whips Uncle Tom “to within an inch of his life.” Sullivan stepped into the role. “He wound his 10-foot lash around the writhing form of Uncle Tom to such good purpose that the actor playing the part screamed in agony, and finally fell fainting to the stage. There were loud protests from the audience and several women screamed and wept. Sullivan in his artistic fury forgot that the waist that was protected by the leather belt was the proper place to lick, and he licked Uncle Tom all over the body and legs, anywhere the whip happened to land. It was great acting, but one man thought it was a tough way of earning a modest stipend.
“Legree’s death was another masterful impressionist picture. Sullivan is stout these days – downright fat, in fact – and he was puffing somewhat from previous exertions by the time for him to give up the ghost. Accordingly, when the fatal shot was fired, he fell to the stage all right, but as he wriggled his last wriggle, his breath came shorter and shorter – as was right and natural, seeing that he was dying. Some ribald youngster up in the gallery, however, who had no appreciation of the finer points of art, laughed joyously at the spectacle. It never touched him. Not for a minute. [Sullivan] calmly raised himself on one elbow and shot at him a cold and reproving glance. Of course, he subsided into awed silence before John L.’s glassy eye, and the death proceeded in proper fashion.”
* * *
In England, George Dixon was chronically short of money and unable to stay away from drinking. So he stepped back into the ring. On December 28, 1902, The Boston Globe reported, “Dixon is Rich Again.” The article indicated that since Dixon had arrived in England a year earlier, he had earned “nearly $7,000.” Interviewed by a local journalist, Dixon talked about his good fortune. “I used to be a fool when I was younger and careless,” said Dixon. “I never used to know the value of money. It was like nothing to me. But I have tasted the bitter pangs of poverty and know what it is to be hungry. I must have earned over $300,000 in my day, but I have little of this money left. I am taking excellent care of myself and will continue to do so. I am to fight Jem Bowker for the bantam championship of England on January 25. If I win everything will be fine. I will return to America, but not permanently. I have been well treated in England and expect to finish the rest of my days here.”
Dixon was fighting at the rate of three or four bouts a month.
“Dixon Still in Fighting Game,” ran a small head-line in The New York Times on January 25, 1903. The article noted Dixon’s upcoming fight with Jem Bowker. “Bowker,” the paper reported, “is the present holder of the bantamweight championship.” It also noted that “win or lose, this is to be Dixon’s last fight in England before returning to the United States.” The boxing record indicates that Dixon never did fight Bowker. And if the match had been arranged, it was cancelled.
On January 24, 1903, Dixon fought Jim Driscoll, a well-regarded Welsh featherweight.
Dixon lost in six rounds.
He did not return to the United States. Instead, he continued to fight in England for the next three years, fighting mostly unknown boxers, and rarely winning.
* * *
On November 6, 1904, The Washington Post published an article that focused on the financial lot of boxers, noting that many who had earned thousands of dollars in a short time soon found themselves without. George Dixon was offered as the first example. Tom O’Rourke was interviewed. “The money a champion prize fighter makes in the ring,” said O’Rourke, “is a mere bagatelle to what he makes in the show business afterward.” The newspaper argued that, “like a popular ward politician,” a popular prizefighter “must spend money.” The habits of George Dixon, John L. Sullivan, Jack Johnson, and Jim Jeffries all established the model for the champion boxer outside of the ring.
It was said that Jim Corbett “made and spent more money in the year following his fight with Sullivan than Sullivan made in his entire career as a fighter.” Of course, Sullivan lost his title before the big money had entered the fight game. Sullivan often earned little more than $500 for a major bout. But just a few years later, “Corbett got $1,000 a week for forty weeks.” Of Sullivan, it was still said that he had made perhaps $250,000, though it was just a third of what Corbett made in far less time. It also noted that Sullivan’s “saloon in Boston was profitable until he became his own best customer at the bar.”
The article also noted that “it is the same with the little fellows” like Dixon. Dixon was much like Corbett, reported the article. “He spends money faster than he earns it. No luxury is too costly for him if he wants it badly enough.” Tom O’Rourke, it was said, tried to take care of Dixon’s money after a fight, or Dixon would have “spent it at the rate of $500 every twenty-four hours. In upper Broadway it was a standing joke for weeks after a fight to see Dixon following O’Rourke around and begging for money. Sometimes the manager would keep him down to the car-fare point. If Dixon became too importunate, O’Rourke would feign annoyance and offer to give the little pugilist all his money in a lump. Then Dixon sheered off. He is sensible enough to know his weakness.”
In late December 1904, The Trenton Times ran an article with the headline: “George Dixon Unheard Of – Very little is heard nowadays of George Dixon. He is in England and although he fights as often as twice a month the results of these contests rarely reach this side of the Atlantic.”
In April 1905 there came further reports of Dixon’s financial difficulties. British fighter Owen Moran, travelling in the United States, told the New York Tribune that Dixon had only earned $50 for his recent fight with Cockey Cohen.
“George Dixon is a Pauper,” announced a small Tribun e headline in late April. “The little colored featherweight fighter, who has won thousands of dollars in the ring during many years that he has been engaged in fighting, is broke in England and unable to get enough money to get back to the country.”
The Boston Globe reported on Dixon in June 1905. “George Dixon, the ex-featherweight champion of the world and undoubtedly the most popular colored boxer that ever stepped into a ring, is not in such sore straights in England as many of his former admirers believe,” noted the article. It went on to say that Dixon now made his home in England, but he “is a suggestion of his former greatness,” though he was in great demand among English fighters. And though he was making a regular income, he was having financial difficulties. “Time was,” added the paper, “when the Boston colored lad would turn aside with scorn the offers he now accepts, but Dixon was always a sensible little chap and now that he realizes that he will never again regain the speed, cleverness and hitting power which brought to himself and Tom O’Rourke fame and fortune, he is far-sighted enough to accept about everything in the boxing line and he is consequently much better off than many of the top-notch boys in this country who lay claim to championship honors.”
Dixon was in fact “living quietly in England” but had also travelled to Scotland “and the continent” where he was “accorded a royal welcome, for [his] fame as a boxer had long preceded him.” The article noted that there had been rumours that Dixon had been financially stranded.
A friend who had received a letter from Dixon said, “[H]e is doing fairly well and is satisfied with the treatment he is receiving in England. However, he anticipates making a trip to Australia, as he believes he can win a lot of money by defeating the best little fellows in the Antipodes.” The Lowell Daily Sun also reported that Dixon was “without a cent.” Dixon was “at the end of his rope,” living “hand to mouth” in London for months.
In July 1905, featherweight boxing great Abe Attell offered George Dixon his highest compliment. He said, “I learned more about boxing by watching the negro box Young Corbett and by then boxing Dixon myself than I have learned in all my fights combined.”
A month later, in late August 1905, The Boston Globe reported that Dixon “had gone broke” in England. Congressman Timothy D. Sullivan was touring England when he became aware of Dixon’s state. He found him in London. “George,” he said, handing him money, “your tickets are ready any time you want to go home.” Dixon must have agreed quickly, as Sullivan “immediately provided for his return.”
Back in Boston, Dixon visited old friends, and he arranged a bout with Tommy Murphy in Philadelphia. Whether he reunited with Kitty is not known, but perhaps hoping to recapture old glory, he rehired Tom O’Rourke to act as his manager. The reunion must have been bittersweet. O’Rourke saw that Dixon was nothing like his former self, but his loyalty partly blinded him. In the end, the fight with Harlem Tommy Murphy lasted just two rounds. Dixon was knocked out by a “left swing to the solar plexus.”
The following morning, in September 1905, The Boston Globe reported on the steadfast popularity of Dixon. “The popularity of Dixon was never better attested than tonight.” A large crowd “had turned out to see Dixon in the ring.” Upon climbing through the ropes, Dixon was greeted by thunderous applause and raucous cheers. Many of the fans reached through the ropes to shake his hand.
In December 1905, Dixon fought Frankie Howe in New York. When he entered the ring, he was “given a great reception.” As The New York Times reported, “Dixon continues to retain his popularity. Though he has been in the game for practically a generation, he can yet put up a better bout than some of the alleged champions from the Hub, who have gone to New York with a great sound of timbrels.”
At the same time, The Trenton Times reported, “Little Chocolate Has Lost Punch.” The once great George Dixon, “who used to mow them all down not so very long ago, appeared before a local crowd at the Long Acre Athletic Club 158 West Twenty-ninth Street last night in a three-round bout with Frankie Howie of Chicago.” Dixon had received a warm ovation when he entered the ring, and he managed at times to show something of his old self, keeping the nineteen-year-old Howie from hitting him. But, despite the warm encouragement from the crowd, the lacklustre fight ended in a draw.
That winter, Dixon travelled back to England where he drew against Pasty Haley and against Billy Ryan, both fighters of little reputation. Unable to earn a worthwhile purse in England, he returned home for good.
* * *
In January 1906, The Logansport Daily Pharos reported on a unique religious revival in New York City. In the early evening of January 10, five hundred “sporting men” sat at the ringside of the Long Acre Athletic Club listening “to a novelty in the form of a sermon preached between two bouts by William Asher, the evangelist from the west, who, with his wife, is holding saloon revivals in New York City.”
The sight was unique to anyone’s memory. After a bruising first bout, Asher, a small, wiry man with piercing eyes, made his way through the crowd and into the ring. The sporting men looked on suspiciously. Many “kept their hats on” and most continued to smoke. Asher just smiled and shook hands with men near the ring. “Don’t worry,” he joked loudly. “I won’t touch you for your watch.” His comment elicited some laughter. Then Asher turned serious and delivered a sermon derived from Timothy 6:12 – “Fight the good fight of the faith.” With a Bible in his hand, Asher began to talk. “As a boy,” he said, “I was fond of boxing, and even today I believe it a manly sport. But look at poor old John L. and our friend in the corner over there, George Dixon.” Asher pointed, and the crowd turned and looked. When they recognized Dixon, they applauded.
“They have stowed away and lost lots of ‘dough’,” continued Asher, “and who of them would not today give back all his coin if he could be a healthy man again?” Asher talked of life’s hardships and challenges in the metaphors of jabs, uppercuts, and swings. All the while, he punched the air to emphasize his points. “Well, boys,” he said, “it’s the same in religion. There isn’t a bruiser among you, nor a chap on the face of the earth, who wouldn’t give all he had if he could get a decision giving him religion. Lots of you fellows have taken the count lots of times, but how many of you ever stop to think what will happen when God gets the count on you. Look out for that day, boys, or it will be a sorry one for you.”
Some in the crowd nodded.
“Boys,” said Asher as he finished, “I like to see a good scrap, and I’m going to stay here until the last man is punched. Then I’ll go home. God bless all of you.” Asher left the ring, and the audience of hardened “sports” cheered. Then the bell for the next bout was rung.
What Dixon may have thought is not known.
* * *
In March 1906, Police Gazette sporting editor Sam Austin ran into George Dixon while he “was taking a chair in a boxing club uptown.” Austin had long been a fan and supporter of Dixon and was most pleased to see him.
“Say,” Dixon said to Austin after they shook hands, “have you got one of those old books you wrote about ‘Black Champions?’”
“Yes,” replied Austin, “what do you want it for?”
Dixon offered a smile. “Oh,” he said, “I just want to read about what a fighter I used to be. From the way I’ve been doing lately, I find it difficult to believe that I ever knew anything about it.”
When Austin wrote about the incident later, he noted, “… and this from the greatest little prize fighting machine the world ever saw.”