The United States today is the greatest fistic nation in the world, and a close examination of its 4,000 or more fighters shows that the cream of its talent is Jewish.
—BOXING ANNOUNCER JOE HUMPHREYS, 1930
The year 1921 was a watershed year for the sport of boxing, thanks to the efforts of the great promoter, George Lewis “Tex” Rickard, and a superstar heavyweight champion named Jack Dempsey. On July 2, 1921, Rickard staged a heavyweight title bout between Dempsey and challenger Georges Carpentier of France. Carpentier, the light-heavyweight champion of the world, was a debonair Frenchman and World War I hero with movie-star looks.
Jack Dempsey, a steel-hard ex-hobo and mining-camp brawler, was one of the most destructive forces ever seen in a prize ring. He stood a shade over six feet and weighed 187 pounds. “The Manassa Mauler”—named for his birthplace in Manassa, Colorado—was an electrifying presence in or out of the ring. No other athlete of his time so embodied the unsettled nervous energy of the Roaring Twenties.
In his 1960 biography, Dempsey, of Scotch- Irish parentage, claimed a Jewish connection: “I am basically Irish, with Cherokee blood from both parents, plus a Jewish strain from my father’s great-grandmother, Rachel Solomon.”1
If Tex Rickard had known of Dempsey’s remote Jewish ancestry, the PR-savvy promoter might have advertised the rugged slugger as a former yeshiva student turned heavyweight boxer. But it wasn’t necessary. Dempsey’s charisma would carry the day. Rickard added to the excitement by using the press and movie newsreels to fan the flame of public interest into a roaring fire.
On the day of the fight over 90,000 fans—the largest crowd to ever attend a sporting event up until that time—paid their way into a huge monolithic wooden stadium (a structure built especially for the occasion) located on the New Jersey side of the Hudson River.
Ringside seats went for $50 apiece (the cheapest seats cost $5.50). Telegraph operators seated in the press section transmitted a round-by-round summary of the fight around the world, and for the first time the new medium of radio was used to broadcast a blow-by-blow account of a championship-boxing match. Stars of stage and screen, giants of commerce, mayors, governors, and senators were sprinkled throughout the ringside spectators.
The result of the Dempsey-Carpentier extravaganza (Dempsey flattened the overmatched Frenchman in four rounds) was less important than the significance of the event. For the first time in history a sporting event had drawn over one million dollars in paid admissions ($1,785,000, to be exact). Jack Dempsey was paid $300,000 for less than 12 minutes of work.
Before the decade was over, four more million-dollar gates featuring Dempsey and promoted by Rickard would enthrall the entire nation. In two of those fights the live attendance figures exceeded 100,000 persons.
During the 1920s boxing reached unprecedented levels of popularity with the general populace, even eclipsing baseball in terms of live attendance figures and newspaper coverage. Heavyweight title fights became the most lavish and anticipated spectacle in sports. The social, artistic, and cultural dynamism of the Roaring Twenties, in concert with the media’s focus on celebrities (especially sports heroes and movie stars), glamorized boxing and made Jack Dempsey the first boxing superstar of the twentieth century. But due credit must be given to the promotional genius of Tex Rickard. Under his watch boxing gained a respectability it had never known before, and was transformed into popular entertainment for a mass audience. The business of sports entertainment would never be the same.
The record-breaking gate receipts of the Dempsey-Carpentier fight convinced other states to reconsider their anti-boxing laws. The realization that substantial tax revenues and other ancillary income could be generated by professional boxing pushed them into the fold. Whereas in 1917 only 23 states had officially legalized the sport, by 1925 the number was up to 43.
Boxing gyms and arenas seemed to pop up everywhere. Much like traveling vaudevillians, professional boxers utilized America’s extensive rail system to go from city to city. Most kept to a busy schedule by fighting every two or three weeks. The constant activity kept them sharp and in fighting trim. There were so many boxing venues, especially in major population centers, that even a lowly bucket carrier could earn a modest living working corners up to six nights a week.
New York City quickly regained its position as the boxing capital of the world. The energy, ambition, and creativity of the world’s greatest city found its way into every aspect of the sport. New York had more fighters, trainers, managers, gyms, and arenas than any other metropolis, and it was home to boxing’s holiest shrine—Madison Square Garden.
In 1920, after a three-year moratorium, professional boxing returned to New York State with the passage of the “Walker Law.” Under the new law a reorganized State Athletic Commission would be responsible for collecting taxes and issuing licenses to boxers, managers, promoters, matchmakers, corner men, referees, judges, and medical personnel. It also attempted, with mixed results, to curtail gambling and criminal infestation.
Boxers and fans rejoiced when the first edict of the commission was to rescind the state’s “no-decision” rule. The new law mandated that the outcome of any bout that did not end in a knockout was to be decided by the scorecards of a referee and two judges. A boxer’s ability to outpoint his opponent would now be officially rewarded. Other states followed New York’s lead, and by the early 1920s, the no-decision era was history.
The boxing industry also realized the need to create a more-formal system for recognizing world champions. The aforementioned New York State Athletic Commission, the 23 member states of the newly formed National Boxing Association (NBA), and the European Boxing Union were the sport’s three main governing bodies. New York, the epicenter of the boxing universe, did not join the NBA, preferring to maintain its independence. California, the second-busiest boxing state, also had a powerful and prestigious boxing commission, and on a few occasions recognized its own world champions.
Although there were occasional disputes, these organizations, more often than not, recognized the same world champions, especially when it came to the sport’s most important title—the heavyweight championship.
The champions featured in this section were recognized by at least one or more of these respected organizations, but it should also be noted that possessing a title did not necessarily mean a particular fighter was the best in his weight class. In the various all-time ratings at the back of this book, some boxers who never won a title are placed ahead of some who did. Not every championship-caliber boxer actually won a championship.
The 1920s represented the pinnacle of boxing activity in the United States.
New York City’s active fight scene reflected the robust health of the sport throughout the rest of the country. As boxing grew in popularity, so did the number of boxers. In 1927 the New York State Athletic Commission issued licenses to 2,000 professional boxers who resided in the Empire State (up from 1,654 in 1925). California issued an equal number of licenses to their resident pro boxers. The two busiest boxing states—New York and California—supervised a combined total of 1,800 boxing promotions. (In 2012 the total number of professional boxers in the United States was less than 3,500, and annual promotions, under 1,000.)2 By 1932 there were approximately 8,000 licensed professional boxers throughout the world.3
The first rating system for boxers was started in 1921 by the National Boxing Association. In 1925 The Ring magazine began an annual rating of the top 10 fighters for each of nine weight divisions (later expanded to 10 weight divisions). Three years later the magazine switched to a monthly ratings format.
From the 1920s to the 1960s, both The Ring and the NBA published separate top-10 contender lists for each weight division. No rating system is perfect, or completely unbiased, but in this time frame the listings of both organizations were considered to be reliable and trustworthy. They were also consistently similar, thereby giving the ratings a semblance of order and legitimacy that is sorely missing today.
In the 1930s boxing in America suffered economically along with the rest of the country during the Great Depression. Revenues and attendance figures declined. Promoters were forced to drop ticket prices as they struggled to stay in business. At one point Madison Square Garden was charging only 40 cents for balcony seats. Journeymen boxers, often fighting for a percentage of the gate, were barely able to cover travel expenses.
By 1933, 50 percent of Americans between the ages of 15 and 19 were unemployed. Young men with few job prospects entered the prize ring to earn a few dollars and hopefully avoid the relief rolls. In the United States more pro boxers were licensed annually during the 1930s than in any previous decade, but only the champions and leading contenders could make a decent living.
Yet despite the economic hardships the anticipation of a great fight could still draw a huge audience, even in Depression-era America. In the mid-1930s the Barney Ross vs. Jimmy McLarnin welterweight title trilogy drew over 100,000 fans. In 1935 a non-championship heavyweight match between Max Baer and Joe Louis drew 83,000 fans to Yankee Stadium and generated one million dollars in revenue.
While the economy was in decline, boxing’s deep well of talent was not. The 1930s produced dozens of all-time great fighters, in addition to hundreds of outstanding contenders. A partial roll call of the decade’s finest reveals an astonishing array of super athletes: Joe Louis, Henry Armstrong, Barney Ross, Tony Canzoneri, Jimmy McLarnin, “Slapsie Maxie” Rosenbloom, Charley Burley, Lou Ambers, Billy Conn, Fritzie Zivic, Kid Chocolate, Holman Williams, Jackie “Kid” Berg, John Henry Lewis, Freddie Miller, Tony Zale, Benny Lynch, Freddie Steele, and Panama Al Brown, just to name a few.
The professional boxing industry has always been fertile territory for exploitation by professional gamblers because of the ease with which a fight could be fixed by either influencing one of the contestants or bribing a referee or judge. During the Prohibition Era (1920–1933) mobsters were usually too busy making tons of money from illegal booze to become overly involved with boxing. Managing a fighter, like owning a racehorse, was a glamorous and lucrative sideline activity. Fixing the occasional boxing match or horse race came with the territory.
With the repeal of Prohibition in 1933, Mob interest in big-time boxing accelerated as new sources of income were sought. The syndicate’s greatest coup was their taking control of the giant Italian heavyweight, Primo Carnera. Most boxing historians believe Carnera won the heavyweight championship in a fixed fight against Jack Sharkey in 1933. Nonetheless, fixed fights, although not uncommon, were the exception rather than the rule. Most of the thousands of professional bouts that took place every year were fought on the level.
It is no coincidence that the Golden Age of the Jewish boxer in America coincided with the Golden Age of the Jewish gangster. Both came from the same gritty rough-and-tumble city streets, and their worlds often intersected. In 1921 Jews represented 14 percent of New York State’s prison inmate population. By 1940, the figure had dropped to 7 percent. Jewish juvenile delinquency rates paralleled these trends, declining from 21 percent of all juveniles arraigned in 1922 to 8 percent in 1940. Women were also not immune to the consequences of poverty. In 1910, Jewish women accounted for 20 percent of all female prisoners in New York State. Thirty years later the number was down to 4 percent.4
The declining rates of criminality among the Jewish populations of New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, and other major urban centers indicated steadily improving social and economic trends. But as long as boxing remained lucrative, criminal infiltration would remain a part of the industry’s subculture, no matter what ethnic groups were involved. Jewish mobsters such as Waxey Gordon, Arnold Rothstein, Dutch Schultz, and Max “Boo Boo” Hoff operated as undercover managers, since their criminal records disqualified them from obtaining a legitimate manager’s license. Their connections could help a promising boxer by securing important bouts that would advance his career—but they could also order the boxer under their control to throw a fight. Little was done to thwart underworld influence. Ineffective state boxing commissions, mostly staffed by political hacks and bureaucratic ciphers, rarely made any attempt to clean up the sport.
While the tough ghetto neighborhoods were breeding grounds for both Jewish boxers and Jewish criminals seeking ways to earn quick money, it did not mean they were one and the same. They were not. While only a small proportion of the total number of poverty-stricken inner-city Jewish youth became professional boxers, an even tinier fraction turned to a life of crime. It was no different for Irish-, Italian-, Greek-, Polish-, and African-American boxers. The vast majority of professional boxers of every race and ethnicity were law-abiding citizens, and they remained that way even after coming in contact with the unsavory characters that inhabited their world.
On June 8, 1933, over 60,000 fans attended an important boxing match at New York’s Yankee Stadium between the colorful American heavyweight contender Max Baer and Germany’s Max Schmeling, a former heavyweight champion of the world. Five months earlier the Nazis had taken control of Germany, and almost immediately began a policy of state-sponsored anti-Semitism. At the time Max Baer was generally assumed to be Jewish, but in fact he was the son of a half-Jewish father and a Protestant mother of Scotch-Irish descent. He was not raised in the religion, and it is not clear that he ever considered himself Jewish. Nevertheless, fighting Nazi Germany’s best boxer in a city with the largest Jewish population made it important for Baer to emphasize his Hebrew heritage. At the suggestion of his Jewish manager, Ancil Hoffman, for the first time he entered the ring wearing the Star of David on his trunks—something that he would do for the rest of his career. Baer left no doubt about his intentions when he told reporters, “Every punch in the eye I give Schmeling is one for Adolf Hitler.”5
Jewish fans flocked to the stadium in hopes of seeing just that, even though the betting odds heavily favored Schmeling. They were not disappointed. The end came suddenly in the 10th round when Baer, a murderous puncher, dropped Schmeling with a thunderous right hand to the jaw. Upon arising at the count of nine Schmeling was subjected to a series of brutal punches before the referee stopped the fight. With his victory Baer became an instant hero to Jews throughout the world. The following year he would win the heavyweight championship of the world.
Whether Max Baer was Jewish or not, at that moment in time—facing a German opponent who was seen as a representative of the Nazi regime—he chose to identify himself with the Jewish people. His army of Jewish fans was forever grateful for the stand he took, both in and out of the ring.
The victory of Max Baer over Germany’s Max Schmeling in June 1933 occurred at a time when the Third Reich, despite its insidious internal racial policies, was still in its infancy, and not yet perceived by the United States as a potential threat. But by mid-1938 that view had drastically changed. Not only did Nazi Germany possess one of the most powerful armies in the world, but its aggressive expansionist policies were threatening world peace. At the same time, Max Schmeling, mirroring Germany’s ascendancy, had staged a dramatic comeback after his loss to Baer, which included a tremendous upset victory over the seemingly invincible Joe Louis in 1936. Louis had been undefeated in 27 fights, including 23 by knockout. Sixteen of his victims had never made it past the fourth round. Louis was an 8–1 favorite to defeat Schmeling. In a sensational upset Schmeling punished Louis severely before knocking him out in the 12th round. Schmeling instantly became a huge national hero in Germany, and the Nazi propaganda machine used his victory as proof of Aryan racial superiority.
The return bout between Joe Louis and Max Schmeling for the heavyweight championship of the world took place in Yankee Stadium on June 22, 1938. On the eve of World War II, the highly anticipated contest took on a heavy symbolism. Louis represented democracy and the civilized world, while Schmeling was vilified in the American press as a representative of Hitler. (Despite his status in Germany, Max Schmeling never joined the Nazi party. Nevertheless, as international tensions worsened, Schmeling was seen as an extension of the evil Nazi regime. From the moment Hitler came to power in 1933, comments writer David Margolick, Schmeling “had walked a tightrope, seeking simultaneously to please the Nazis while maintaining his relations in New York, the world capital of boxing.”6)
The fight turned into a transcendent event. No other sporting contest had ever aroused more passion or worldwide interest. Over 70,000 fans were on hand to witness it in person, while another 100 million listened, transfixed to their radios. It is believed to be the largest audience for a single radio broadcast up until this point. Randy Roberts writes: “No event had ever attracted an audience that large—not a sporting event, a political speech, or an entertainment show.”7
Seeking revenge for his humiliating defeat two years earlier, Louis relentlessly attacked Schmeling. The savage beating took only 124 seconds of the first round before the referee stopped the one-sided fight—the second-shortest title fight in heavyweight history. On that night Joe Louis became an American icon and the entire nation, black and white, celebrated his great victory. African Americans were euphoric, as were Jews throughout the world, who rejoiced over “The Brown Bomber’s” utter destruction of a representative of “the master race.”
In the years between the two world wars, Jewish sporting clubs sprang up throughout Europe—in Poland, Germany, Austria, Italy, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Greece, Holland, and France. Jewish athletes from these countries excelled in many sports, winning titles in soccer, boxing, fencing, gymnastics, weightlifting, and table tennis. Hungarian Jewish athletes were especially adept at fencing. From 1896 to 1936 they won 14 gold medals in Olympic competition. The majority of Jewish boxers on the European continent remained amateurs, although several dozen achieved success as professionals, either as world champions or leading contenders, most notably Victor “Young” Perez (Tunisian-born French champion who won the world flyweight title in 1931), Leone Efrati (Italian featherweight who challenged for a world title in 1938), Kid Francis (Italian-born French bantamweight champion who challenged for a world title in 1932), and Erich Seelig (German middleweight and light heavyweight champion, 1931–1933).
During the inter-war years soccer remained the number-one sport in Europe. In the 1920s the famous Hakoah soccer team of Vienna attracted the best Jewish players in Central Europe. The team won the Austrian National Championship in 1925. The following year it toured the United States and drew over 26,000 fans to a match at the Polo Grounds in New York City.
The International Maccabee movement was the most popular of the many Jewish athletic clubs in Europe. It had been organized in 1903, and by the early 1930s numbered 200,000 Jewish athletes in 27 countries.8 Talented amateur boxers representing the Maccabee and various other Jewish sports organizations won national boxing titles in Poland, France, Italy, Germany, England, and Greece.
Poland had the second-largest Jewish population in the world next to the United States, so it is not surprising that it also had more Jewish athletes than any other European nation. By 1936 there were 150 Maccabee athletic clubs in Poland, with some 40,000 members.9 The idea of a “muscular Judaism”—the phrase coined by Max Nordhau at the second Zionist Congress in 1898—was especially strong in the Polish Maccabee clubs that were home to many distinguished amateur athletes.
In July 1933, six months after the Nazis came to power in Germany, the Maccabee organization relocated its world headquarters from Berlin to London, noting that “there was no longer any place for Maccabi under the bestial Hitler activities.”10 But for many of the athletes who remained in Europe during the gathering storm, both professionals and amateurs, there was no escape. Several of Germany’s top Jewish boxers fled the country in 1933. Harry Stein emigrated to Prague and then to Moscow. That same year Erich Seelig fled to France, and eventually to the United States via Cuba in 1935. Leone Efrati, Victor Perez, and Kid Francis were murdered in the Holocaust.
The German army’s invasion of Poland on September 1, 1939, ignited World War II. Over the next six years the Nazi occupiers and their collaborators carried out the systematic murder of six million Jews, including 90 percent of Poland’s prewar Jewish population of three million.
A few Jewish boxers were able to survive the death camps by fighting for the amusement of Nazi guards, as did Salamo Arouch and Jacko Razon, former Greek amateur champions. Literally fighting for their lives, they were given an extra ration of food after each victory. The loser was invariably shot or gassed. Another survivor was Amsterdam’s Ben Bril, that country’s outstanding amateur boxer, who competed in the 1928 Olympics and won a gold medal in the flyweight division at the 1935 Maccabiah Games. He won the Dutch national amateur championship eight times, but was barred from the 1932 Summer Olympics because the head of his country’s Olympic committee was a member of the Dutch Nazi party. Four years later Bril boycotted the 1936 Games in Berlin.
During the German occupation of the Netherlands Bril was deported and imprisoned at the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp in Germany. He and a younger brother survived to the end of the war, but his other five siblings (all but one were married with children) died in the camps.
After the war Ben Bril returned to the Netherlands and stayed active in boxing as a referee, officiating important fights throughout Europe. Bril is a boxing legend in the Netherlands, and was the subject of a book and movie based on his life. After his passing in 2003, the annual Ben Bril Memorial Boxing Gala was inaugurated to honor his memory. The event features a series of boxing matches held every October in Amsterdam.
The country with the most Jewish boxers outside of the United States was England. From 1881 to 1914 over 150,000 Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe settled in London, increasing that country’s Jewish population to 250,000 (about one-eighth of the population that resided in America).
Most lived in the East London areas of Whitechapel, Shoreditch, Aldgate, Stepney, Bethnal Green, and Hackney.11 At the turn of the last century the poorest sections of these enclaves matched New York City’s Lower East Side for their poverty and squalor. So it is not surprising that thousands of London’s Jewish youths took up boxing in an effort to quickly improve their economic circumstances. Boxing held enormous significance for the country’s Jews, especially among the working class. Once the country’s national sport, boxing has a rich and storied history in England, and Jewish boxers, beginning with Daniel Mendoza in the late 18th century, were a significant part of it. As in America, the boxing experience in England facilitated the ongoing integration and upward social mobility of the Anglo-Jewish population, while at the same time countering negative anti-Semitic stereotypes.
Outside the ring Jewish entrepreneurs in London were instrumental in sustaining a thriving boxing industry. From 1894 through the 1930s they opened at least five popular boxing halls in the East End Jewish community.12 The most popular among them were the Judean Club and Premierland Arena. Most Jewish boxers got their start at these two legendary arenas.
The amateur boxing network in Britain that nurtured and developed future professional stars was extensive. The largest Jewish amateur boxing clubs were located in London and Manchester. They performed with amazing success. Between 1921 and 1939 the boxing teams, known collectively as the Jewish Lads’ Brigades (JLB), won the Prince of Wales Shield (the preeminent tournament for all British youth clubs) 12 times. In six of these tournaments the final was contested between the London and Manchester JLBs.13
Professional boxing activity and participation were greatest during the Great Depression. In the 1930s Great Britain averaged an incredible 3,500 shows per year.14 (Since 1961 the annual numbers rarely exceed 200 shows.)
Between 1908 and 1935 Anglo-Jewish professional boxers won 13 British titles and four world championships. Ted “Kid” Lewis (Welterweight Champion 1915–1916, 1917–1919), a Jewish boxer from East London, is considered by many historians to be the greatest British boxer of all time. A partial list of the best Anglo-Jewish professional boxers of the Golden Age includes Sid Smith (flyweight champion), Young Joseph, Matt Wells (welterweight champion), Harry Mizler, Jackie “Kid” Berg (junior lightweight champion), Jack Goldswain, Harry Mason, Harry Reeve, Jack Hyams, Phil Lolosky, Jimmy Lester, Johnny Brown, Young Johnny Brown, Joe Fox, Jack Bloomfield, Benny Sharkey, Solly Schwartz, Benny Caplan, Phil Richards, Al Phillips, Harry Lazar, and Lew Lazar. The fabulous history of Anglo-Jewish boxers deserves an entire book of its own.
Over the past quarter-century professional boxers have averaged between 15 and 30 bouts and less than 150 rounds before winning a title. From the 1920s to the 1950s the averages were 71 bouts and 479 rounds. In both eras it took about four to five years of activity to accumulate those numbers.15
Economic necessity was the main reason the old-timers fought so often. The bouts provided steady income. The goal was to accumulate a decent-size nest egg before retirement. Fighting often had other benefits. It was not just the number of fights and rounds that helped to season and sharpen the skills of the Golden Age pros—it was also the competitive quality of those rounds. By the time a boxer achieved contender status he’d already gained enough experience to improvise and adjust his strategy when faced with a variety of different styles. If staggered or hurt by a punch, he knew how to clinch, stall, run, slip, bend, roll, and weave his way out of trouble. Such fighters were very difficult to stop.
An undefeated record is not that difficult to establish if a fighter consistently meets inferior opposition. Years ago it wasn’t that important to remain undefeated. Managers expected their fighters to win, but were not always sure they would. At some point the fighter had to be tested, and if the outcome was a loss, it was seen as a learning experience, providing the fighter was not seriously overmatched and damaged. Losses were considered an accepted part of the learning process.
“One of the biggest differences between then and now was that the manager wasn’t burdened with navigating to protect the fighter from losing,” explained ESPN boxing analyst Teddy Atlas. “There wasn’t the pressure that there is today to remain undefeated. You could let the fighters get the fights that were going to let them develop—win or lose. It was just a matter of fighting and getting better . . . fighting and moving up . . . and trying to get to Madison Square Garden. That’s all that mattered.”16 Boxing historian Kevin Smith agrees: “It wasn’t a big deal to lose back then as it is now,” says Smith. “Losses were considered a lot more like baseball in that you lose a game and you go on and try to win the next series.”17
As was the case in the previous generation of boxers, even the best had trouble maintaining undefeated records because the top men often fought each other. The low knockout percentages of the old-timers did not mean they were not hard punchers. It was rather an indication of the type of competition they faced month after month, and the fine defensive skills they had mastered. An undefeated prospect with a long winning streak and a high percentage of knockout victories aroused suspicion among the cognoscenti because it was so unusual.
Even journeymen boxers with mediocre records were capable, on a good night, of pulling an upset and defeating a top-ranked contender, or even a world champion. As Kevin Smith notes: “If you look at any of the 1920s fighters, even an ordinary main event fighter from some obscure tank town, you are going to recognize names on his record. These guys fought each other. There was not as much avoiding competitive fights as there is today. They went where the money was and it didn’t really matter a lot of times who it was they were fighting. Every fight was experience. Most fighters of that era had 100 or more fights.”18
One of the many ways boxing has veered off course in recent years is the importance placed on win-loss records by the media and fans. Boxing, unlike baseball or basketball, is not a sport of statistics. One cannot determine the quality of a fighter by simply counting up the wins and losses on his record. The classic example is Fritzie Zivic, whose record showed over 30 losses in 129 fights when he upset the great Henry Armstrong to win the welterweight championship in 1940.
There are champions and contenders profiled in this section whose win-loss records are inferior to lesser boxers who would not stand a chance against them. When evaluating the quality of a Golden Age gladiator, one must go beyond mere statistics. The main question is how well, and for how long, did the fighter perform against top competition? Also strongly influencing my selections was the length of time a fighter’s name appeared in The Ring’s listing of top 10 contenders for his weight class. Extra consideration was given to those fighters who maintained a rating for at least several months or longer. In a few instances a fighter who otherwise might not have made it into the book is mentioned because his story is compelling from a historical or human-interest perspective. All of the boxers reached their prime between 1920 and 1940.
Georgie Abrams
Nat Arno
Milt Aron
Abie Bain
Benny Bass*
Sylvan Bass
Archie Bell
Joe Benjamin
Jackie “Kid” Berg*
Maxie Berger
Jack Bernstein*
Harry Blitman
Harry “Kid” Brown
Johnny Brown
Natie Brown
Newsboy Brown*
Joe Burman
Mushy Callahan*
Red Chapman
Mickey Cohen
Al “Bummy” Davis
Jackie Davis
Davey Day
Sammy Dorfman
Leone Efrati
Irving Eldridge
Murray Elkins
Armand Emanuel
Lew Farber
Abe Feldman
Lew Feldman
Jackie Fields*
Al Foreman
Kid Francis
Bernie Friedkin
Sailor Friedman
Danny Frush
Joe Glick
Marty Gold
Benny Goldberg
Abe Goldstein*
Ruby Goldstein
Charley Gomer
Joey Goodman
Al Gordon
Jack Gross
Izzy Grove
Willie Harmon
Gustave Humery
Abie Israel
Ben Jeby*
Andre Jessurun
Louis “Kid” Kaplan*
Mike Kaplan
“KO” Phil Kaplan
Herbie Katz
Lew Kirsch
Danny Kramer
Solly Krieger*
Art Lasky
Roy Lazer
Georgie Levine
King Levinsky
Nat Litfin
Sammy Luftspring
Georgie Marks
Harry Mason
Joey Medill
Benny Miller
Ray Miller
Harry Mizler
Young Montreal
Yale Okun
Bob Olin*
Victor “Young” Perez*
Bill Poland
Jack Portney
Augie Ratner
Al Reid
Charley Phil
Rosenberg*
Dave Rosenberg*
“Slapsie Maxie”
Rosenbloom*
Barney Ross*
Al Roth
Ted Sandwina
Joey Sangor
Morrie Schlaifer
Benny Schwartz
Corporal Izzy
Schwartz*
Erich Seelig
Solly Seeman
Benny Sharkey
Pinky Silverberg*
Pal Silvers
Abe Simon
Al Singer*
Lew Tendler
Sid Terris
Phil Tobias
Benny Valgar
Sammy Vogel
Eddie “Kid” Wagner
Archie Walker
Eddie “Kid” Wolfe
Norman “Baby” Yack
* world champion
There is a strong case to be made for Georgie Abrams as the best Jewish middleweight of all time. But fate did not decree that he would win a title.
The son of a shoemaker, Georgie Abrams was born in Roanoke, Virginia, and raised in Washington, DC. He was a gifted athlete and an “A” student in high school, but the need to find employment during the Great Depression trumped any plans for higher education, even though two colleges offered him athletic scholarships in swimming and boxing. Georgie had been an outstanding amateur boxer, compiling a 62-3 record that included AAU (Amateur Athletic Union) and Golden Gloves titles.
Georgie’s parents gave him the middle name “Freedom” in honor of his being born on Armistice Day 1918. Twenty-three years later, on November 28, 1941, at Madison Square Garden, Georgie Abrams was hoping for a belated birthday present—the middleweight championship of the world. But first he would have to earn it by defeating one of the toughest fighters who ever lived, Gary, Indiana’s, “Man of Steel,” Tony Zale.
Abrams appeared to be on his way to a quick victory after dropping Zale for a nine-count in the very first round. But in the next round an errant thumb from Zale’s glove poked into Abrams’s left eye, causing severe pain and blurred vision. Making matters worse, in the third round an accidental head butt opened a cut over his other eye. With his left eye swollen shut from the fourth round on, Georgie fought the rest of the bout half blind.
Despite these handicaps, Abrams, using every ounce of his extraordinary boxing skill and courage, fought a sensational battle for 15 exciting rounds. The bout was very close, but in the opinion of the two judges and the referee, Zale’s incessant body attack in the late rounds had swayed the fight in his favor.
Georgie was confident that with two good eyes he could defeat Zale in a rematch. But it was not to be. On December 7, 1941, the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, and everything changed.
Abrams, like millions of other patriotic Americans, heard the call to duty and volunteered for service. In the navy he was involved with physical training of recruits. He also boxed in over 200 exhibitions in the Pacific and on ships. When he was discharged in 1946, Abrams was 27 years old, still young enough to resume his career.
After four tune-up fights, including a 10-round decision over highly ranked middleweight contender Steve Belloise, Abrams appeared to be near his old form. In his next fight he lost a disputed decision to the great French middleweight Marcel Cerdan. The 17,000 fans attending the fight in Madison Square Garden would have been satisfied had the bout ended in a draw.
Georgie was anxious for another shot at his old foe, Tony Zale, also a navy veteran. Zale’s title had been frozen during his service. But before Abrams could challenge Zale, he had a tall order to fill: He had to get past the great Sugar Ray Robinson.
Robinson, the welterweight champion of the world, was then at the peak of his extraordinary powers. The “Harlem Dandy” was seeking to add the middleweight title to his already-impressive résumé. He’d already beaten a slew of tough middleweight contenders, including four victories over the only man to defeat him in 165 amateur and professional fights—the Bronx Bull, Jake La Motta. It didn’t matter to Robinson that he would be giving away 12 or more pounds to a heavier opponent. He figured to handle Abrams without much trouble.
But the overconfident Robinson was about to be surprised. Abrams was a master boxer and superb infighter. He was able to maneuver inside Sugar Ray’s longer reach, keeping most of the action at close quarters. During one exchange he even managed to open a cut over Robinson’s right eye.
Although hampered by blood running into his eye, Ray kept up a vicious body attack, but was still unable to land a knockout blow. At the end of 10 furious rounds, one judge scored for Abrams but was outvoted by the other judge and referee, both of whom gave the fight to Robinson by a narrow margin. The Madison Square Garden crowd immediately voiced their displeasure with a prolonged chorus of boos when the decision was announced.
Abrams’s impressive showing against Robinson and Cerdan is not the only evidence of his magnificent ring artistry. Before the war he challenged middleweight champion Billy Soose and won an easy 10-round decision. But since both fighters weighed over the middleweight limit of 160 pounds, the title was not at stake. The win was no fluke. Before he became champion, Soose (considered one of the best middleweight boxers of the 1930s) had already lost to Abrams twice. After his non-title win over Soose, an independent Midwest sanctioning organization called the “American Federation of Boxing” recognized Abrams as world middleweight champion, but the organization carried no clout and soon disappeared.
Leading up to his series of fights with Soose, Abrams outpointed Izzy Jannazzo and defeated former middleweight champions Lou Brouillard and Teddy Yaroz. The victories highlighted Abrams’s ability to adjust to any style. He could outmaneuver a rough infighter like Brouillard, and was equally effective at long range against master boxers Jannazzo and Yaroz.
As if these accomplishments were not enough to enshrine Abrams in every boxing hall of fame, he then took on the legendary Charley Burley, one of the most feared black fighters of the twentieth century. In his prime Burley was scrupulously avoided by champions in both the welterweight and middleweight divisions. On July 29, 1940, Abrams held Burley to a 10-round draw in the latter’s hometown of Pittsburgh. Two weeks later Abrams won a split 10-round decision over Cocoa Kid, another highly rated black contender.
Two months after his stirring effort against Sugar Ray Robinson, Georgie was back in Madison Square Garden to face the always-dangerous Steve Belloise. A year earlier Abrams had outpointed Belloise. This time Belloise, a vicious puncher with 45 knockout victories in 84 bouts, stopped him in the fifth round.
After a four-month layoff, Abrams faced another navy vet, former middleweight champion Fred Apostoli. The fight took place in Apostoli’s hometown of San Francisco. At the end of 10 grueling rounds, the local boxer won a split decision that could have easily gone the other way.
In Abrams’s last fight, on April 21, 1948, he was mauled by power-punching Anton Raadik, an opponent he’d easily outpointed a year earlier. The fight was stopped in the 10th round after Abrams had been decked twice. Chris Dundee, Georgie’s very capable manager, advised his fighter it was time to retire, and the obedient boxer agreed.
In his post-boxing life Abrams, a talented illustrator, tried to make a career for himself as an artist, but it did not pan out. Over the next 30 years he held a variety of jobs that included stints as an auto dealer, liquor salesman, and tavern owner. He lived in Florida for a while before settling in Las Vegas, where he worked as a security guard at the Tropicana Hotel. Twice divorced, he married his third wife, Vicki Lee, a former singer for Tommy Dorsey, in 1984. Abrams was already exhibiting signs of the progressive dementia that afflicts so many ex-fighters. But he never expressed regrets about his career, other than his frustration at not winning the middleweight championship.
MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
When Tex Rickard took control of Madison Square Garden in 1920, his goal was to establish the arena as the world’s foremost boxing showplace. So successful was Tex that in 1925, a new and much larger Madison Square Garden was built to accommodate twenty thousand persons. (The seating capacity of the old arena was about 12,000.)
“The house that Tex built” was the third and most famous incarnation of the legendary arena. The edifice occupied an entire block on the west side of New York’s Eighth Avenue, between 49th and 50th Streets. It stood as a monument to the sport from 1925 to 1968, when it was torn down and replaced by a new arena constructed atop the old Pennsylvania train station, at 33rd Street and Seventh Avenue.
The honor of performing in the world’s most famous arena was every boxer’s dream, even if it was only in a four-round preliminary. But to be featured in a Madison Square Garden main event was the equivalent of landing the lead role in a Broadway theatrical production! The prestige of topping the card at “The Garden” was second only to winning a world title. In the Roaring Twenties, at the height of Jewish activity within the sport, nearly half of the arena’s 288 shows featured a Jewish boxer in the main event. The fact that so many quality Jewish fighters had huge followings in New York City guaranteed that they would often appear in the featured bout of the evening. Overall, from 1900 to 1950, Jewish boxers appeared in 240 of 866 Garden main events. In twelve of those bouts, Jewish boxers squared off against each other. (See appendix for a complete list of Madison Square Garden main events featuring Jewish boxers.)
During boxing’s heyday a typical season at the 50th Street arena averaged 25 to 35 shows per year. The main event was usually preceded by six or seven preliminary bouts. In the summer months the fights were staged in outdoor arenas and stadiums. There was also a six-week hiatus in the spring while the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus took over the Garden.
Georgie Abrams’s record is immensely impressive. Very few fighters can boast of victories over Soose, Brouillard, Yaroz, and Cocoa Kid, or fighting on even terms with the likes of Burley, Cerdan, and Robinson. That says it all. They did not come much better than Georgie Abrams.
Nat Arno had his first boxing match on his 15th birthday. He had five more bouts before his father found out and forbade the youngster from continuing. Unable to fight in New Jersey without his parents’ permission, Arno hitchhiked alone to Florida in January 1926. Over the next 13 months, he lost only one of 49 fights. He returned home and reconciled with his father. All of his subsequent fights took place in New Jersey.
Arno established solid credentials in the junior lightweight division by holding his own against the likes of Pete Nebo, Vic Burrone, Young Zazzarino, Lope Tenorio, and Benny Cross. An aggressive and durable brawler, Arno was very proud of the fact that none of the 129 opponents he faced was able to stop him. The lone TKO loss on his record happened when the ringside physician ordered the bout stopped because of a cut above Arno’s right eye.
During Prohibition several of Newark’s boxers, including Arno, were employed by Longy Zwillman, the powerful New Jersey Jewish Mob boss, to transport and protect his bootleg shipments. Although Zwillman never became a boxer himself, he was a supporter of Newark’s Jewish boxers, and had sponsored several promotions.
In the mid-1930s Zwillman recruited and organized Jewish boxers from Newark’s Third Ward into a group called “The Minutemen.” The group’s purpose was to use their muscle to break up pro-Nazi meetings and propaganda activities in Newark. The Minutemen included boxers Benny Levine, Lou Halper, Abie Bain, Al Fisher, Puddy Hinkes, and Moe Fischer. It was active right up to the beginning of World War II, when America joined the fight against Nazi Germany.19
In 1941 Arno was drafted into the army. He saw action with the 29th Infantry Division, and was wounded during the Normandy invasion. After returning to civilian life he married and relocated to California, where he worked in the furniture industry. Arno’s “Minutemen” activities were renewed in the early 1960s when he heard that the American Nazi Party was staging a rally in downtown Los Angeles. He gathered a group of veterans to protest. During an anti-Semitic tirade by one of the speakers, Arno rushed the stage and threw him to the ground. He was arrested but released without being charged. Chalk up another victory for this feisty former pro boxer and veteran.
Ill-fated Milt Aron, the son of a rabbi, was one of Chicago’s most popular boxers. He was an aggressive pressure fighter with an exciting style and knockout power in his right fist.
Aron’s enthusiastic fan base extended well beyond his loyal Jewish following.
From 1934 to 1939, Aron lost only seven of 69 fights. Knockouts over Pete Nebo and Lou Halper, plus a decision over Chicago rival Harry Dublinsky, earned him a top-10 rating in the welterweight division. But it was his sensational knockout of Fritzie Zivic that moved him into the number-one-contender slot. Zivic had floored Aron three times before the Chicago slugger connected with a dynamite right cross in the eighth round that flattened the future welterweight champion for the full count. It was only the second time in 115 fights that Zivic had been knocked out.
Eight months after his victory over Zivic, Milt’s plans for a title shot against welterweight champion Henry Armstrong were disrupted when he dropped two decisions to contenders Mike Kaplan and Steve Mamakos.
Those losses moved Aron back a few notches, but he quickly rebounded with three consecutive knockout victories. He then agreed to a rematch with Zivic. This time the wily veteran turned the tables and stopped him in the fifth round.
In a tragic turn of events Aron came down with blood poisoning shortly after his second bout with Zivic. He battled the infection for five months before succumbing on March 6, 1942.
According to Abie Bain’s daughter, Riselle, the distinctive hoarse voice that Anthony Quinn used in his portrayal of “Mountain Rivera,” the washed-up fighter in the 1962 movie Requiem for a Heavyweight, was based on her father. Quinn and Bain had been friends for many years. Bain’s voice was actually the result of damage to his vocal cords caused by a botched surgery, and not his boxing career.
Abie Bain turned pro in 1923. Four years later he was mixing it up with the likes of Jack McVey, KO Phil Kaplan, Vince Forgione, Phil Krug, Rene DeVos, George Courtney, and Vince Dundee. All were highly ranked middleweight contenders.
In 1930 Abie moved up a division and challenged the great light-heavyweight champion “Slapsie Maxie” Rosenbloom. Maxie stopped him in the 11th round when a severe laceration over Bain’s left eye caused the referee to halt the bout. Less than a year later he was matched with “Two Ton” Tony Galento, who outweighed him by over 50 pounds. Galento scored a fourth-round TKO. Like the fictional “Mountain Rivera,” Bain continued to fight past his prime. Thirteen of his 26 losses came in the last four years of his career.
Benny Bass, a five-foot-two, pocket-size Hercules, stood out in an era that churned out great featherweight and lightweight boxers in assembly-line fashion. This tireless warrior fought an amazing 242 professional fights over 17 years, and won titles in two weight divisions. It would not be a stretch to place him among the all-time top-10 featherweight champions.
Bass was born in Kiev, Russia, on December 15, 1904, and came to America with his family in 1907. At the age of 10 he was selling newspapers on a busy Philadelphia street corner. The diminutive but scrappy youngster discovered his talent for fighting while defending his prized corner against bullies and competitors who sought to take over his territory.
From the ages of 12 to 16, Benny won 95 of 100 amateur bouts. In 1920 he qualified for the Olympic trials in the flyweight class, where he lost a close decision to the eventual gold medal winner and future professional champion, Frankie Genaro. Bass turned pro the following year under the management of Phil Glassman, handler of the great Lew Tendler and many other outstanding Philadelphia boxers.
Five years later, with victories over Joe Glick, Chuck Suggs, Dominic Petrone, and Johnny Farr, Bass was rated the number-one featherweight contender. His 39 knockout triumphs in 115 bouts stamped him as one of the hardest punchers in the division. In 1927 he met Boston’s Red Chapman (Morris Kaplan) for the featherweight championship left vacant by Louis “Kid” Kaplan. Chapman, the number-two contender, had an impressive 64-13-1 (won-lost-draw) record, including 19 wins by knockout.
Over 30,000 fans paid their way into Philadelphia’s Municipal Stadium to witness a great fight between two evenly matched fighters at the top of their game.
In the third round, an accidental head butt opened a cut over Bass’s right eye. Calling upon all his ring savvy and experience, Bass fought the next four rounds at long range and managed to foil Chapman’s attempt to target the injury and inflict further damage. In the seventh round Bass opened a bloody gash over Chapman’s eye.
With both fighters fearing a TKO loss, they decided to throw caution to the wind and go for a knockout. In the ninth round, in the midst of a savage exchange, Bass and Chapman landed simultaneous right-hand bombs to the jaw, resulting in that rarest of boxing spectacles—the double knockdown! The startled referee began counting over both fighters. Bass wobbled up at the count of seven while the referee continued to count over Chapman, who just managed to beat the count and last out the round. The 10th and final round had the exhausted and bloodied gladiators fighting on pure instinct. Bass was awarded a unanimous decision.
In the first defense of his title he faced the great Tony Canzoneri, who was recognized as world featherweight champ by the New York State Athletic Commission. Bass held the National Boxing Association version of the title. The bout was intended to unify the title.
After 15 furious rounds Tony was awarded a split decision for the undisputed championship. It was revealed afterwards that Bass had suffered a broken collarbone in the third round (some sources say 10th round), but despite the handicap had fought on, even rallying in the last few rounds to make the fight very close.
Following a four-month layoff (the longest of his career) to allow his broken collarbone to heal, Bass returned to action, scoring impressive victories over top contenders Harry Blitman, Gaston Charles, Davey Abad, and Harry Forbes.
In 1929 Bass fought Tod Morgan for the junior welterweight title. Knocked down in the first round, Bass came back to stop Morgan in the second round. It was only Morgan’s second KO loss in over 100 fights.
After two successful title defenses Bass took another crack at Canzoneri in August 1930. They both weighed over the 130-pound junior lightweight limit, so Bass’s title was not at risk if he lost. That was his sole consolation as he dropped another close decision to Canzoneri.
Benny won 11 of his next 13 fights. All seemed to be going well until he met Cuban sensation Kid Chocolate on July 15, 1931. In the first defense of his junior lightweight crown Bass suffered a deep cut over his left eye that caused the bout to be stopped in the seventh round.
For the remainder of his career Bass was competitive with the world’s top lightweights, but never received another title shot. Even past his prime he continued to average one to three fights a month.
In 1937 the great triple champion Henry Armstrong, then at the peak of his extraordinary powers, stopped the 32-year-old ex-champ in the fourth round. It was the only time Bass was ever counted out.
Bass retired after the Armstrong fight, but money problems forced a comeback in August 1939. Over the next nine months he won four of seven bouts, including one draw. In his last two bouts the aging veteran dropped 10-round decisions to Philly neighbors Jimmy Tyghe and Tommy Spiegal. The losses finally convinced him to hang up his gloves.
Bass was offered a job as a salesman for Penn Beer Distributors, and the popular ex-champ did quite well selling suds to the local barkeeps, restaurants, and supermarkets.
Although he was a grade-school dropout, those who knew Benny recall an individual of above-average intelligence who was reputed to be fluent in five languages—English, Ukrainian, Russian, Polish, and Yiddish. He eventually moved from selling beer to a job in civil service, and for many years worked for the city of Philadelphia as a clerk in their traffic court system.
Benny Bass may have been small in stature, but he was a giant in the ring. If he were boxing today he’d be worth his weight in gold.
Baltimore’s Sylvan Bass began his career in 1924 as a 118-pound welterweight and ended it 12 years later as a 152-pound middleweight. He was very popular in his hometown of Baltimore when that city was one of the country’s hottest boxing venues.
A converted southpaw, Bass combined a powerful left hook with an aggressive infighting style. Top opponents included Jack Portney, Andy Divodi, Sergeant Sammy Baker, Georgie Levine, Young Terry, Cuddy DeMarco, and former welterweight champion Tommy Freeman. In 1933 he scored his greatest victory by winning an upset eight-round decision over future middleweight champion Ken Overlin. After Bass retired he served as matchmaker for the Century Athletic Club in Baltimore for 12 years.
Archie Bell turned pro on December 10, 1923. Over the next 12 months he averaged a fight every two weeks. That type of activity, unthinkable today, was not unusual for a boxer of his era. Neither was the fact that 15 of his first 23 opponents were Jewish.
Archie fought in one of the most competitive eras in the history of the bantamweight division, and was good enough to be rated among the top 10 contenders for over four years. He beat many good fighters, but also had a habit of losing the big ones. Archie chalked up victories over contenders Dominick Petrone, Johnny Vacca, Young Nationalista, Eugene Huat, and Ignacio Fernandez, but lost to Nel Tarleton, Kid Francis, Teddy Baldock, and former champion Bushy Graham. In all, Bell fought nine fighters who at one time or another claimed a world title.
On December 2, 1932, in Los Angeles, Archie lost a 10-round decision to Mexican fireplug Alberto “Baby” Arizmendi for the California version of the world featherweight title. Thirty-five days later Arizmendi repeated his victory in San Francisco. Shortly after this fight Bell decided to hang up his gloves.
In a career spanning nine years and 99 fights, Archie Bell was stopped only twice, the first time very early in his career. The second stoppage was a TKO (cut over the eye) to future champion Tony Canzoneri.
Few fighters have entered the pro ranks with more natural talent than handsome, fun-loving Joe Benjamin. A flashy and clever lightweight boxer, Joe was a solid performer but lacked consistency. On a good night he was capable of outpointing the likes of Joe Welling, Benny Valgar, and Pete Hartley. On not-so-good nights he lost to Ritchie Mitchell, Johnny Dundee, and Joe Tiplitz. All were top-rated lightweights. (Mitchell was one of only two fighters to knock him out.)
In 1925 Benjamin was among 50 top lightweight boxers who took part in an international tournament to crown a successor to the retired lightweight champion Benny Leonard. In Joe’s first bout, in San Francisco, he outpointed Jack Silver in front of 20,000 fans. He then made the mistake of picking up an extra payday by taking an interim non-tournament bout against the formidable Ace Hudkins. After losing an upset decision to Hudkins, Benjamin was dropped from the tournament. Although only 26 years old, and still in his prime, Joe decided to hang up his gloves. He used his ring earnings to open a liquor store in Los Angeles.
Joe had been a stablemate of heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey. They maintained a lifelong friendship. In fact, Benjamin was Dempsey’s best man when the heavyweight champion married actress Estelle Taylor in 1925. It was Dempsey who introduced Joe to the Hollywood crowd. The charming and friendly former contender became personal trainer to Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks, connections that helped him land several movie cameo roles.
During World War II Benjamin enlisted in the US Marine Corps and served as a hand-to-hand-combat instructor. After the war he worked for many years as a salesman and West Coast public relations representative for Schenley Industries.
Judah Bergman donned boxing gloves at a very young age and quickly established himself as an exceptionally talented amateur boxer. But amateur trophies would not put food on the table. Judah’s father, a Yiddish-speaking Polish immigrant, worked as a tailor and was barely able to support his wife and seven children with his meager earnings. So in 1924 Judah Bergman joined the ranks of England’s professional prizefighters. He was three weeks shy of his 15th birthday.
Jackie “Kid” Berg always seemed to be in a hurry, as if he feared slowing down might cause him to sputter and stall. His nervous energy was even more pronounced in a boxing ring. The kid had the lungs and stamina of a marathon runner. He was one of those rare individuals who could move at top speed for 15 rounds and never seem to tire.
With his arms pumping like pistons the Kid set a relentless pace. His nickname, “The Whitechapel Windmill,” only hinted at what it must have been like to fight him. This is not to imply that he was just a “swarmer” with inordinate stamina. Jackie was well schooled in the basics. He possessed a fine left jab and could box effectively at long range.
Within five months of turning pro Jackie was fighting ten- and 15-round main events. From June 1924 to February 1928 he had 62 bouts, losing only three. Included among his victories was a 15-round decision over future featherweight champion Andre Routis.
In 1929 Jackie made his Madison Square Garden debut against lightweight contender Bruce Flowers, one of the finest African-American fighters of his era. Flowers, a slight betting favorite, had height and reach advantages over Berg, but none of that mattered.
Nineteen-year-old Jackie set a tremendous pace. Flowers was so busy defending himself against the frenzied, nonstop onslaught of punches that he was unable to launch an effective counterattack. He appeared, as one sportswriter put it, “like a scarecrow caught in a windstorm.” The Garden crowd, numbering close to 20,000, had not seen anything like it since the halcyon days of the legendary “Pittsburgh Windmill,” Harry Greb. Some reporters were even calling Berg “the English Harry Greb.”
Berg had something else in common with Greb. He was an inveterate womanizer. Berg’s trainers often had to stand guard outside his bedroom to make sure he avoided female companionship on the night before a fight. Once, in a New York hotel lobby, Berg was chatting up an attractive brunette. He invited her to join him for dinner the following evening. Big mistake. The woman was the girlfriend of mobster Legs Diamond. Word got out that Legs was enraged and that his torpedoes were out gunning for Berg. Ray Arcel and Whitey Bimstein, Berg’s trainers, used all their charm and salesmanship to convince Diamond that it was all a misunderstanding. The duo quickly hustled Berg to an upstate training camp.
“The Whitechapel Windmill” became an overnight sensation in New York after his impressive showing against Bruce Flowers. Fight fans couldn’t wait to see him in action again. Only 13 days after their first encounter Jackie and Bruce Flowers were back in Madison Square Garden for a second go-round. Flowers told reporters that he’d been taken off guard by Berg’s unusual style, but would outbox him this time.
Like many other Jewish fighters, Jackie wore the Star of David on his boxing trunks. But on this occasion he decided to take the display of his heritage one step further by wearing his tallis and tefillin into the ring! The somewhat surreal scene was described in The Ring magazine:
Berg entered the ring wrapped in a tallis, the prayer shawl worn in synagogues. Around his right arm and on his head he wore tefillin, the small leather box containing sacred scripture, trailed by leather straps, which are put on by observant Jews for early morning prayers. Berg proceeded to go through an elaborate ritual of slowly unwinding the leather straps from around his body, tenderly kissing them, and placing the materials in a gold-embossed velvet bag, which he then carefully handed to his chief second, Ray Arcel. Berg’s trunks, as always, were adorned with the Star of David.20
The majority of his fellow Jews among the 20,000 fans in the sold-out arena were exhilarated by the display. But some skeptics questioned what they called a gimmick to pull in the crowds. Berg’s trainer, Ray Arcel, disagreed. “To understand why Berg always wore symbols of his religion into the ring, you had to know the man,” said Arcel. “True, he wasn’t what you call a religious Jew, but he was superstitious beyond reason. When I put the question to him one day, he seemed embarrassed. ‘It’s comforting to have God on your side no matter what you are doing,’ he said soberly.”21
In the return bout Berg got off to a slow start before taking charge in the third round, whereupon the action followed the same pattern as their previous encounter. Berg won another 10-round unanimous decision by “gluing his head to the Negro’s chin and slamming away at his middle.”22
“The Whitechapel Windmill” was boxoffice gold, and was kept busy for the rest of the year. Promoters all over the country wanted him to appear in their arenas. He won 13 additional fights in 1929. Among his victims were lightweight contenders Mushy Callahan, Phil McGraw, and, for the third time, the persistent Bruce Flowers.
In 1930 Jackie met the great Tony Canzoneri. Two years earlier Canzoneri had won and lost the featherweight championship. Now competing as a lightweight, Tony set his sights on adding another title to his impressive list of accomplishments.
The Canzoneri vs. Berg fight took place in Madison Square Garden before another sellout crowd. The 6–5 odds favored Canzoneri because he had beaten more quality opponents and was the harder puncher. But even as great a fighter as Canzoneri was, he could not cope with Berg’s maniacal but controlled fury. Canzoneri was given the full Berg treatment. The overwhelming speed and volume of Berg’s punches prevented him from mounting an effective counterattack. He did manage to land several haymakers, but the “Whitechapel Windmill” just kept plowing forward. During the course of the battle Canzoneri was cut over both eyes and bled from his nose and mouth. At the end of ten rounds of fierce fighting, Berg’s arm was raised in victory.
A month and a day after his spectacular upset of Canzoneri, the 20-year-old whiz kid was back in London to fight Mushy Callahan for the junior lightweight title (weight limit 140 pounds). By the 10th round, with his left eye swollen shut and bleeding from assorted cuts, Mushy’s corner signaled surrender by throwing a towel into the ring. Jackie was now a world champion, but he would not be satisfied until he won the more-prestigious lightweight crown.
On April 4, 1930, just six weeks after defeating Callahan, the new champion was back in Madison Square Garden, where he outpointed perennial contender Joe Glick in the first defense of his new title. Just three days later, in a non-title fight, he outpointed Jackie Phillips in Toronto, Canada. The following month, at Dreamland Park, in Newark, New Jersey, Berg defended his title for the second time by stopping Al Delmont in the fourth round. In June and July he outpointed the Perlick twins, Herman and Henry. The dizzying schedule reached a climax on August 7, 1930, when he faced the great Cuban boxing star, Kid Chocolate.
In an era loaded with talent, Kid Chocolate stood out among his peers as something very special. He fought as if performing a rumba interspersed with a dazzling array of combination punches. Up to that time no boxer, not even the great Benny Leonard, had fought with more balletic grace than this beautifully built, ebony-hued superathlete.
Kid Chocolate (real name, Eligio Sardinias Montalvo) had come to the United States from Cuba in 1928. He rocketed to the top of the featherweight division with a sensational string of victories, including a close decision (non-title) over lightweight champion Al Singer.
Not only was Kid Chocolate a master boxer, but he also possessed the speed to match Berg’s whirlwind style. Since turning pro 32 months earlier, “The Cuban Bon Bon” had gone through 56 opponents without a loss.
Although the Great Depression had begun a year earlier, the dream match between Kid Chocolate and Jackie “Kid” Berg attracted over 40,000 paying customers to New York’s Polo Grounds. The fight was rated “even money” by oddsmakers.
In the first three rounds Kid Chocolate utilized his great speed, shifty footwork, and quick counterpunches to keep Berg from getting inside. It usually took Berg a few rounds to warm to the task and switch into high gear.
Making good use of his almost-nine-pound weight advantage, Berg charged out of his corner in the fourth round and bulled the Cuban fighter into the ropes. Chocolate tried to fight back and get a rally going, but he could not sustain the assault for more than a few moments, nor could he match Berg’s excessive volume of punches. The only way he could slow down the assault was by clinching, a tactic that drew boos from the fans. There were no boos when Berg was awarded the 10-round decision.
Following his victory over Chocolate, Berg defended his title against Buster Brown, and then won a second decision over Joe Glick (non-title). In his final bout of 1930 Jackie exacted sweet revenge against former conqueror Billy Petrolle by winning a unanimous 10-round decision over the “The Fargo Express” at Madison Square Garden. In less than a year Berg defeated 11 quality opponents, counting among his victims the likes of Tony Canzoneri, Mushy Callahan, Joe Glick (twice), Kid Chocolate, and Billy Petrolle—an amazing record of accomplishment matched by very few fighters of any era.
Berg continued his relentless schedule in 1931. He defended his junior welterweight title twice within seven days. Ten weeks later he outpointed Billy Wallace in yet another successful defense of his title. It was Berg’s 95th victory against only five losses.
On April 24, 1931, only two weeks after defeating Wallace, Berg challenged Tony Canzoneri for the lightweight championship of the world. Since losing to Berg 15 months earlier, Canzoneri had won the lightweight title with a first-round knockout of Al Singer. Tony’s record showed only nine losses in 93 fights.
From the opening bell it was apparent that Canzoneri had no intention of letting the fight go to a decision. He was looking to land a haymaker, and that is exactly what happened in the third round, when he landed a perfectly timed right cross to the point of Berg’s jaw. Berg was caught coming into the punch (thereby exacerbating its effect) and was counted out for the first time in 106 fights.
Canzoneri agreed to a rematch on September 9, 1931, at New York’s Polo Grounds. Each man knew he would have to be at his best to win. In round eight it was still anyone’s fight when Canzoneri hit Berg below the beltline with a punch that sent Jackie to the canvas, writhing in pain. The New York Commission’s rules stated that a fight could not be won on a foul since every fighter was required to wear a foul cup under his boxing shorts as protection against errant punches below the belt. Berg struggled to his feet and continued fighting but never regained his momentum. He staged a furious rally in the 15th and final round, but it was not enough to make up for the rounds he had lost. The unanimous decision went to Canzoneri. If the fight had been staged in England—its originally intended venue—the championship would have changed hands when Berg was fouled in the eighth round.
By the mid-1930s the marvelous fighting machine had finally begun to slow down. But even past his prime, “The Whitechapel Windmill” could still surprise with an outstanding performance. He appeared to be finished after lightweight contender Pedro Montanez stopped him in five rounds at New York’s Hippodrome in 1939. Yet three months later he upset the odds by outpointing master boxer Tippy Larkin. Previous to his meeting with Berg, Larkin had lost only four of 69 fights. Jackie returned to England to finish out the balance of his career.
During World War II Jackie enlisted in the Royal Air Force. While in the service he married for the second time (his first marriage had ended in divorce). In 1946, with a wife and infant daughter to support, he decided to open a restaurant in London’s Soho district. After selling the restaurant he worked for many years as a stuntman and stunt coordinator for films produced in England. To the end of his life he remained an active and beloved member of the English boxing fraternity, and his presence was often requested at major prizefights.
One could say that the lineage of England’s great Jewish prizefighters that began with Daniel Mendoza 150 years earlier had come to an end with the retirement of the one and only Jackie “Kid” Berg.
Maxie Berger was one of the greatest boxers to ever come out of Canada. He first laced on the gloves in 1931 at the Montreal Young Men’s Hebrew Association (YMHA). Three years later he capped off a sterling amateur career with a silver medal at the British Empire Games. Maxie turned pro in 1935 and breezed through his first 10 opponents before moving to New York City.
The following year he outpointed Dave Castilloux for the Canadian lightweight championship. Less than a month later he successfully defended the title with a 10-round decision over Orville Drouillard. In 1938, after defeating veteran contender Wesley Ramey (gaining revenge for two previous losses to Ramey), the Montreal Athletic Commission recognized Berger as the junior welterweight champion of the world. But no one beyond the city’s borders gave any credence to the title.
ART IMITATES LIFE
One of the best of the silent-era boxing films is a 1925 melodrama titled His People. The film tells the story of a Jewish family on the Lower East Side of Manhattan. Two brothers, Sammy and Morris Cominsky (played by George Lewis and Arthur Lubin), are the sons of poor immigrant parents. Good son Sammy decides to become a professional boxer to help pay for his older brother’s law school education and ease his family’s financial burden. (Papa Cominsky barely ekes out a living as a pushcart peddler.)
Sammy cannot let his family know that he is a boxer, so he fights using the name “Battling Rooney.” When a nosy neighbor spills the beans about Sammy’s boxing activities, his religiously observant father (Rudolph Schildkraut) is horrified and orders Sammy out of their home. “G-d of Israel! That a son of mine should sink so low.”
Meanwhile, Sammy’s older brother Morris, the lawyer, is revealed to be a self-absorbed and unscrupulous social climber. He becomes romantically involved with the daughter of a wealthy senior partner in a prestigious law firm. But Morris is so embarrassed by his family’s poverty and Old World ways, he tells his fiancée that he is an orphan. The plot thickens when Papa Cominsky is taken ill and is told by a doctor he must move to a warmer climate. With no funds to pay for the move, Sammy agrees to a lucrative but dangerous fight against an experienced opponent. Needless to say, all dilemmas are eventually resolved. Sammy wins the big fight, Papa recovers, and Morris comes to his senses and asks forgiveness from his family for his boorish behavior.
The film, directed by Edward Sloman, still holds up. In his book, Hollywood’s Image of the Jew, author Lester B. Friedman wrote, “Sloman’s compelling vision of the painful depths and joyous heights of immigrant life endow the film with an exuberant vitality that captivates modern filmgoers and enlightens film historians.”23
They loved Maxie in Montreal, but the big money was in New York City, Philadelphia, and Chicago. Only 32 of his 131 fights took place in Canada.
In order to smooth the way for Maxie in New York City his managers had to cut in a character named Jimmy Doyle. Only later did Maxie find out that Doyle’s real name was Jimmy Plumeri, a garment-center racketeer who managed fighters on the side.
Maxie impressed the New York fans with sensational victories over contenders Wesley Ramey, Leonard Del Genio, Enrico Venturi, Billy Beauhuld, and Bobby McIntire, but he is best remembered for a fight he lost. On February 2, 1942, he met 20-year-old phenomenon Sugar Ray Robinson in Madison Square Garden. A crowd of 12,000 excited fans saw Robinson win by a TKO in the second round. Berger had been dropped twice before the referee intervened to stop the bout—some thought prematurely. It was the first time in 97 professional fights that Maxie was stopped, and only his 13th loss up to that time. His share of the gate was $2,200.
Maxie continued to meet highly rated opponents throughout his career, even after he’d passed his prime. In his final two years as a pro he was outpointed by Beau Jack and stopped by Ike Williams. He finally retired in 1946 after a KO loss to George Costner.
A few weeks into his retirement Maxie was approached by professional gamblers with a proposition for one more bout. In 1972 he related the story to Montreal Gazette journalist Marvin Moss: “They offered me $10,000 to fight Johnny Greco. There was one catch: I had to lay down. I told them ‘No way.’ I wasn’t going to go against something I believed all my life. So there never was any fight. And that was the end of it.”24
Maxie used part of his boxing nest egg to open a store in Montreal that sold custom-made shirts. But the punches he took over the course of his 131-bout career eventually took a toll on his health. He was 83 when he passed away, but the last 10 years of his life were marked by increasingly severe dementia.
Perhaps the most underrated of all the Jewish champions is Jack Bernstein. Noted boxing historian Hank Kaplan ranked Bernstein the thirdgreatest Jewish lightweight after Benny Leonard and Lew Tendler.25
Indeed, very few lightweights could boast of having beaten the likes of Johnny Dundee, Solly Seeman, Babe Herman, Ray Miller, Jimmy Goodrich, Rocky Kansas, Eddie “Kid” Wagner, and Luis Vicentini. Throw in a 15-round draw with a prime Sammy Mandell and an unpopular loss to top contender Sid Terris, and it becomes obvious that Jack Bernstein, in his prime, was a fighter for the ages.
The boy who dropped out of grade school to help his father peddle fruit from a pushcart started fighting for money at the age of 14 in his hometown of Yonkers, New York. Since there weren’t many Jewish boxing fans in Yonkers, young John Dodick (Bernstein’s real name) began his boxing career as Kid Murphy.
From 1914 to 1920, Kid Murphy paid his dues the old-fashioned way—by fighting often and meeting fighters of every conceivable style. The muscular lad displayed an aggressive twofisted attack combined with an effective left jab and airtight defense.
In 1920 Kid Murphy acquired a new manager who told him that since he did most of his fighting in New York City, he’d attract an even larger following with a Jewish name. To honor his hero, turn-of-the-century Jewish boxing star Joe Bernstein, Kid Murphy renamed himself Jack Bernstein. The change seemed to have a rejuvenating influence on his career.
Jack Bernstein became a force to be reckoned with in the lightweight division. In 1922 he lost only one of 17 fights. He reversed the loss to tough Archie Walker and then went on to decision Solly Seeman, Babe Herman, and Eddie “Kid” Wagner—three of the world’s best lightweight contenders.
In 1923 Bernstein fought the great featherweight champion Johnny Dundee for the revived junior lightweight title at Brooklyn’s Coney Island Velodrome. Dundee, in his 14th year as a pro, had already fought over 300 professional fights and was past his prime. Even so, Dundee was considered such a great fighter, he was a four to one favorite to defeat Bernstein.
Fifteen thousand fans saw Bernstein defeat the odds and win a unanimous decision over Dundee in a scorching 15-round battle.
Seven months later Bernstein lost the title back to Dundee at Madison Square Garden. Rumors of a fix were rampant after the two judges voted for the challenger (the referee had scored it for Bernstein). The Garden audience was in an uproar at the injustice, as Bernstein appeared to have won ten of the 15 rounds. Not one of more than a dozen sportswriters covering the fight thought Dundee deserved the win.
Bernstein returned to Madison Square Garden three weeks later where he fought a 15-round draw with future lightweight champ Sammy Mandell. Nine months later he fought the rubber match with Dundee (now an ex-champ, having lost the title two months earlier). He easily outpointed the fading ring great.
From 1924 to 1927 Bernstein remained a viable title threat, with victories over Tommy O’Brien, Cuddy DeMarco, Ray Miller, and former champion Jimmy Goodrich. His return match with Sid Terris in 1925, at New York’s Polo Grounds, was yet another travesty of boxing justice. The decision for Terris shocked the audience. For the first time “The Ghetto Ghost” was booed as his hand was raised in victory. But fan disapproval could not change the result.
In 1927 Jack began to notice that he was losing stamina in the late rounds. This had never happened before. Something was wrong, but he could not figure out the cause. After losing twice to Yonkers neighbor Bruce Flowers, and then dropping a 10-round decision to Joe Glick in the new Madison Square Garden, Jack decided a long rest was in order.
He returned to the ring in mid-1928 and lost to a run-of-the-mill club fighter. In Bernstein’s next fight he was knocked out for the first and only time in his career by Bruce Flowers. There was no shame in losing to a fighter of Flowers’s caliber, but a Jack Bernstein in his prime would not have been stopped by Flowers, or any other lightweight, for that matter.
In 1931 Jack Bernstein wisely decided it was time to hang up his gloves. Although it cannot be said with certainty, the heart condition that eventually took his life 14 years later, when he was only 46 years old, may have played a factor in the stamina problems Jack was experiencing late in his career.
If Harry Blitman, the Russian-born son of a tailor, had done nothing exceptional beyond his 10-round decision over featherweight champion Tony Canzoneri in 1928, that victory alone would have given him bragging rights for the rest of his life. In a startling upset the 18-year-old phenom gave Canzoneri one of the worst beatings of his career. Unfortunately the fight was a non-title affair, since both fighters weighed over the 125-pound limit. Harry walked off with the decision but not the title. When the rangy five-foot-seven southpaw was on his game, he was capable of defeating any featherweight in the world.
As an amateur, 16-year-old Harry had won the Junior National AAU flyweight championship in 1926. He entered the pro ranks with an outstanding 93-2 amateur record, and was undefeated in his first 35 professional bouts. Among his victims were Dave Adelman, Dominick Petrone, Johnny Farr, and Seminole Indian Pete Nebo. (Harry rated Nebo as his toughest opponent.)
Ten weeks after stomping Canzoneri, Harry challenged hometown rival Benny Bass in Philadelphia’s Shibe Park. Canzoneri had outpointed Bass to win the featherweight championship less than a year earlier
The five-foot-two Bass was one of the strongest boxers to ever hold the featherweight title, and far more experienced than Harry. In a savagely fought battle Bass maneuvered inside his taller opponent’s guard and punished him severely about the body. A left hook to the jaw put Blitman down and out in the sixth round. The bout had been advertised as for both the Pennsylvania and Jewish featherweight championships. A crowd of 35,000 fans witnessed the fight, with gate receipts topping $100,000. Blitman’s end came to $25,000—the largest purse of his career.
After the loss Blitman rebounded with decisions over highly rated contenders Babe Herman, Lew Massey, and Pete Nebo, but then lost to Nebo and Massey in return bouts. By 1932 Harry was losing to fighters he could have easily defeated in his prime. It was obvious that his management had rushed the young fighter too quickly. Too many tough fights against formidable opposition had finally taken a toll. At age 24 his days as a top contender were over. After winning only one of four fights in 1934, Harry called it a career.
After hanging up his gloves Harry worked as a stevedore at the Ford Motor Company’s riverfront plant in Chester, Pennsylvania. He also wrote a series of articles on old-time fighters for the Camden Courier Post. When the United States entered World War II, Blitman became a physical training instructor in the navy, but received a medical discharge after one year.
Harry returned to the newspaper business and was a columnist for the Philadelphia Record and the Philadelphia Daily News. He was a vocal advocate for stricter medical examinations for fighters, which he wrote about in an article in the Saturday Evening Post.
From 1900 to 1930 Philadelphia produced a veritable cornucopia of world-class Jewish ring talent. One of the best of the Philadelphia elite was lightweight contender Harry “Kid” Brown. In his prime he scored impressive victories over top-rated Baby Joe Gans and Young Harry Wills, and drew with Cuddy DeMarco, Manuel Quintero, and Johnny Indrisano (newspaper decision). There was no shame in losing to the likes of Sid Terris and future champions Sammy Mandell, Jackie Fields, and Young Jack Thompson.
In his post-boxing career Harry operated the popular Olympia Gym (also known as Harry “Kid” Brown’s gym) and managed a bar and grill, located on Marshall Street in Philadelphia. Harry is the brother of the famous sculptor, Joe Brown, who taught at Princeton University for many years and whose work often depicted boxing scenes.
After establishing his reputation in London rings, Johnny Brown traveled to America in 1921 to engage in 18 bouts against the world’s top bantamweights. During the mid-1920s he was consistently rated among the top 10 bantamweights in the world. He split his boxing activity between America and England, with occasional forays into Canada.
On November 26, 1923, in London, Brown won the European, British, and Commonwealth (Empire) bantamweight titles via a 20-round decision over Bugler Harry Lake. He defended successfully against Harry Corbett and Mick Hill. In the last fight of his career Brown lost his British titles to former bantamweight champion Teddy Baldock.
Johnny is the older brother of “Young” Johnny Brown, a fine featherweight contender who also fought in both America and England.
Natie Brown’s claim to fame was surviving ten rounds with Joe Louis. They fought on March 29, 1935, in Joe’s hometown of Detroit, Michigan. The future heavyweight champion was only nine months into his professional career but had already knocked out 13 of 16 opponents.
Brown had been a pro since 1928. He was a tough and seasoned journeyman, with 53 bouts under his belt. Although there were 17 losses on his record, most were to good fighters such as Max Baer, Fred Lenhart, Joe Knight, Tony Galento, and Maxie Rosenbloom.
In 1935 Brown was rated among the top 10 heavyweight challengers after victories over Johnny Risko and Tony Galento, and draws with Walter Neusel and former middleweight champion Mickey Walker.
The veteran heavyweight’s experience enabled him to survive the first round against Louis after getting knocked down. Brown realized it would be suicide to risk swapping punches with Joe, so he went into survival mode and managed to last the full 10 rounds. Even though he lost, going the distance with Louis was a kind of victory in itself.
In a return bout with Louis two years later, Brown was KO’d in the fourth round. He fought just 19 times over the next 12 years before retiring in 1949. A few months later Brown returned to the ring, but not as a boxer. The former heavyweight contender traded in his boxing trunks for wrestling tights and became a professional wrestler, joining his old foe “Two Ton” Tony Galento on the grunt-and-groan circuit.
David Montrochevsky’s parents fled the persecution and poverty of Czarist Russia at the turn of the last century and emigrated to, of all places, Sioux City, Iowa. There were not many Jews in Sioux City; in fact, most of its citizens had never even seen a Jewish person. David’s father thought it best to anglicize the family name to “Montrose.”
Young David contributed to the family budget by selling newspapers on the street corners of Sioux City. In a situation repeated countless times in other cities, he had to use his fists to discourage other newsboys from taking over his coveted corner. Many other pro fighters started out the same way. That’s why so many of them had the nickname “Newsboy.”
In one of his earliest amateur fights the announcer could not remember his name. It was summertime, and David, who spent most days outdoors hawking newspapers, had a deep tan. He was introduced as “The brown-skinned newsboy . . . Newsboy Brown.” The name stayed with him for the rest of his career.
In 1925, three years after turning pro, Newsboy Brown transferred his base of operations to Los Angeles. In his first fight on the West Coast, Brown was matched with the 1924 Olympic flyweight champion, Fidel LaBarba. The unknown Sioux City brawler held the Olympian to a 10-round draw. Brown’s excellent showing gave him instant credibility, especially after LaBarba won the National Boxing Association flyweight title only four months later.
A testament to Brown’s growing popularity was his being chosen to participate on the opening card of the brand-new Olympic Auditorium in downtown Los Angeles. The Olympic was a 10,000-seat auditorium that opened in 1925. In the coming years it would acquire legendary status as California’s premier arena and the West Coast’s equivalent to Madison Square Garden.
Following his draw with LaBarba, Brown defeated two future flyweight champions—Frankie Genaro and Corporal Izzy Schwartz. These two victories moved him into the upper echelon of flyweight contenders.
On December 16, 1927, at Madison Square Garden, Brown dropped a close 15-round decision to flyweight champion Corporal Izzy Schwartz. Three weeks later he returned to the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles to challenge Johnny McCoy for California’s version of the world flyweight title. In a barnburner of a fight, Newsboy edged out McCoy to win the title.
Brown defended his title for the first time on April 24, 1928, in Los Angeles against Filipino champion Speedy Dado. He stopped the game challenger in the sixth round. In August he traveled to London for a fight with Scotland’s Johnny Hill. The fight was recognized as a world-title bout by California and Great Britain. After 15 hotly contested rounds, Hill’s hand was raised in victory.
No longer able to make the flyweight limit, Brown returned to the ring wars in 1929 as a bantamweight. Over the next three years he lost only three of 26 fights. Two of the losses were reversed in rematches. His most impressive victories were non-title decisions over flyweight champion Midget Wolgast and bantamweight champion Panama Al Brown—two of the greatest fighters to ever hold those titles. He also defeated contenders Pablo Dano, Claude Varner, Archie Bell, Young Tommy, and Eugene Huat. Brown was consistently rated among the top four bantamweights in the world, but was not given an opportunity to fight for that title.
By 1932 the wear and tear of his busy career was beginning to show. In June Brown dropped a 10-round nod to Mexican contender Alberto “Baby” Arizmendi, a future featherweight champion. In the rematch staged two weeks later, Brown used his superior ring savvy to outpoint Arizmendi.
The rubber match with Arizmendi took place four months later on October 18, 1932. The bout was recognized by the California State Athletic Commission as a world featherweight title bout.
Arizmendi dominated the fight and had Brown on the verge of a KO at least three times. The Associated Press reported that Arizmendi, “displaying all the speed and agility of his Aztec ancestry . . . decisively whipped his Los Angeles Jewish opponent here last night before 7,000 persons.”
Six months later, in the final bout of his illustrious career, Newsboy Brown fought Baby Casanova in the El Toreo bullring in Mexico City. Over 30,000 fans watched and cheered as their national hero stopped the faded veteran in the third round. Brown never fought again.
Before he retired Newsboy was hired by a Hollywood studio to coach cowboy star Tom Mix for his fight scenes. Mix was later instrumental in getting Brown a job in the properties department of a major studio, where he worked for many years.
CHARITY BEGINS AT HOME
Established boxers were often called upon to help with charitable causes. Most responded without hesitation. On October 21, 1929, three days before the stock market crash, sub-way builder Sam Rosoff rented Madison Square Garden for an all-star boxing card to raise money for the beleaguered Jews living in British Mandate for Palestine. Two months earlier, on August 24, 1929, Arabs had rioted in the ancient city of Hebron and murdered 67 Jews.
The show consisted of five 10-round bouts matching Jewish boxers against five gentile opponents. Maxie Rosenbloom headlined. The four other Jewish boxers were Al Singer, Jackie “Kid” Berg, Ruby Goldstein, and Yale Okun. All five won their bouts. The show drew 16,000 spectators and raised over $75,000 (equivalent to $1 million today) for the Palestine Emergency Fund, to help Jews in the pre-state land of Israel.
Chicago’s Joe Burman holds the record for the shortest title reign in boxing history—about 10 hours. Joe was scheduled to challenge bantamweight champion Joe Lynch at Madison Square Garden on October 19, 1923. This would have been their second meeting. Seven months earlier they had fought a 10-round non-title bout before 10,000 fans in Chicago’s Dexter Park Arena. Two newspapers awarded the unofficial decision to Burman.
A few days before the title bout Lynch pulled out, claiming a shoulder injury. A physician for the New York State Athletic Commission determined the injury was not serious. Lynch disagreed and refused to fight. When he did not show up for the official weigh-in on the day of the fight, the commissioner stripped him of the title and awarded it to Burman.
Promoters put out a frantic call for a substitute. Bantamweight contender Abe Goldstein answered the call. He was in top shape, having fought three times in the previous 17 days.
The 12-round title bout was a corker, with the outcome determined by Goldstein’s strong finish in the final minutes of the fight. Burman’s brief reign as champion had come to an end. Adding insult to injury, his claim to the title was never recognized, since he did not win it in the ring. He fought only four more times before hanging up his gloves in 1924.
Although he did not win a world title, Joe Burman was a championship-caliber boxer. His impressive victories over Joe Lynch, Pete Herman, Charles Ledoux, and Johnny McCoy proved it. In 129 career bouts he was never knocked out.
Burman’s post-boxing career included stints as a matchmaker and promoter at Chicago’s Marigold Gardens. He also operated a popular men’s clothing store in the city’s Loop district before moving to Los Angeles.
At the age of ten, Morris Scheer joined the Los Angeles Newsboys’ Boxing Club. A few months later he had his first amateur fight. The youngster wanted a more-pugnacious sounding nom de box, so he adopted the Irish surname of the club’s promoter. But Morris Callahan did not sound quite right, so he changed his first name from Morris to “Mushy,” which was simply a derivative of his Hebrew name, “Moishe.”
Ten years later Mushy Callahan became a bona fide welterweight contender, with impressive victories over Spug Myers, Pal Moran, James Red Herring, Ace Hudkins, and former lightweight champion Jimmy Goodrich. His progress slowed somewhat when he lost back-to-back 10-round decisions to highly ranked contenders Jack Silver and Baby Joe Gans, but those losses turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The newly crowned junior welterweight champion, Pinky Mitchell, was encouraged by the losses, and agreed to defend his title against Callahan on September 26, 1926.
Mushy proved to be much better than Mitchell’s research had indicated. He won easily, flooring Mitchell twice while romping to a 10-round decision. The new champion followed up his victory over Mitchell with four straight wins (three by knockout) before dropping a close 10-round nod to Spug Myers in a non-title bout.
In 1929 Callahan lost a close decision (nontitle) to British sensation Jackie “Kid” Berg at Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field. He was lured to London for a rematch with Berg after promoters offered a $10,000 guarantee to defend his title.
Mushy and Jackie crossed gloves at London’s Royal Albert Hall on February 18, 1930. A head butt early in the fight closed Callahan’s eye. Trying to keep pace with “The Whitechapel Windmill” with two good eyes was difficult enough; with one eye, it was near impossible. The bout was stopped in the 10th round.
After the loss of his title Callahan did not fight again for two years. In 1932 he launched a brief comeback, winning two of three fights before deciding to hang up his gloves for good.
Single throughout his boxing career, Mushy settled down in 1934 and married his Irish sweetheart, Lillian Hill, a former Ziegfeld Follies showgirl. That same year he converted to Catholicism—one of three Jewish fighters known to have converted to another religion. His son became a Jesuit priest.
Mushy worked as a physical fitness instructor for actors and actresses under contract to the Warner Brothers studio. He also served as technical director and consultant for many films with a boxing theme, coaching the actors and choreographing fight scenes. Some of the actors he worked with included Wayne Morris (Kid Galahad), Errol Flynn (Gentleman Jim), Kirk Douglas (Champion), Montgomery Clift (From Here to Eternity), Elvis Presley (remake of Kid Galahad), and James Earl Jones (The Great White Hope). Mushy played the part of referee in at least a dozen of the films he worked on. It was a role he also undertook in real life, often refereeing major fights in California.
Red Chapman (né Morris Kaplan) was one of 10 children born to Russian immigrant parents in the Chelsea section of Boston. He began his professional boxing career in 1920, and over the next six years the redheaded fighter impressed fans and sportswriters with decisions over featherweight contenders Lew Paluso, Andy Chaney, Charlie Beecher, Babe Herman, and former champion Johnny Dundee.
When Louis “Kid” Kaplan relinquished the featherweight title in 1927, a tournament was arranged to name a successor. The two finalists were Chapman and Benny Bass of Philadelphia. The title bout took place on September 12, 1927, at Philadelphia’s Shibe Park in front of 30,000 fans.
In the ninth round of an exciting seesaw battle both contestants hit the deck simultaneously after exchanging right hooks—a rare double knockdown! The startled referee began counting over both downed fighters. Benny got up first and staggered into the ropes. Chapman just beat the count and barely managed to finish the round. The 10-round decision, and the title, went to Benny. Chapman was consoled by the $25,000 he received, the largest payday of his career.
Chapman and Bass fought again on January 28, 1929. Bass was no longer champion, having lost the title to Tony Canzoneri a year earlier. The first round was barely over when Chapman claimed a foul. The referee disallowed the claim and Bass was declared the winner on a first-round knockout. It’s probably best that it ended that way. Another war like their first demolition derby could have finished both fighters.
Described by those who knew him as a spry and energetic gentleman, Red was employed for many years as a court officer in Boston’s Suffolk Superior Court. His son, Alan, graduated from law school and went on to become one of Boston’s top criminal defense attorneys.
Denver’s Mickey Cohen is often confused with another fighter with the same name who fought out of Cleveland and had a brief career as a mediocre bantamweight in the early 1930s. That Mickey Cohen achieved far greater notoriety as a Los Angeles gangster in the 1950s. This Mickey Cohen (whose real first name was David) was neither mediocre nor a gangster. He was a worldclass junior welterweight boxer who was good enough to outpoint the likes of Davey Abad, Harry Dublinsky, and Mike Dundee—all highly rated contenders.
According to contemporary newspaper reports, Cohen also took the measure of contenders Joe Glick and Tommy Grogan in no-decision bouts. He was consistently rated among the top 10 junior welterweights from 1930 to 1932.
Between 1926 and 1932 Mickey fought 101 bouts. He fought only three times in 1933 and just once in 1934. The following year, after a knockout loss to future welterweight champ Freddie “Red” Cochrane, Mickey decided it was time to hang up his gloves. Fortunately, unlike many of his contemporaries, Mickey stuck to his decision and did not launch a comeback.
Al Davis’s nickname, “Bummy,” was a derivation of his Hebrew name, Avrum. Friends and family affectionately called him “Vroomy.” A local boxing promoter thought “Vroomy” sounded a lot like “Bummy.” He told the fighter that adding the colorful nickname would create interest—which it did. The name seemed just right for a tough dead-end kid from the gritty streets of Brownsville, Brooklyn.
At age 14 Al Davis was already an experienced street fighter when he began boxing in the amateurs. From the beginning he exhibited a talent for knocking people out. A converted southpaw, Al packed a tremendous portside wallop. What he lacked in boxing technique he more than made up for with guts, durability, and that dynamite-laden left hook. He was a rough street kid with a hair-trigger temper, but when he wasn’t punching people for a living, he was a good-natured, pleasant young man who did not go looking for trouble.
Davis turned pro in 1935 at the age of 15. Over the next four years he went undefeated in 35 bouts, including 19 by knockout. On November 1, 1939, at Madison Square Garden, he ended the career of the great Tony Canzoneri with a third-round TKO. Tony was 11 years older than Davis, and a shell of the extraordinary fighter he’d been during his heyday. It was the first time in 170 professional fights that Canzoneri was knocked out. The next day, to everyone’s relief, Canzoneri announced his retirement.
Six weeks after the Canzoneri fight Davis returned to Madison Square Garden to face master boxer Tippy Larkin. The crowd numbered over 17,000 fans. Bummy’s left hook flattened Larkin in the fifth round. It was Larkin’s first knockout loss in 72 professional bouts.
Davis was now the hottest fighter in the country and a world-rated welterweight contender. On February 23, 1940, he was back on top at the Garden for a 10-round non-title match with lightweight champion Lew Ambers, a cagey, hardened veteran of 100 bouts. The arena was packed to the rafters with a standing-room-only crowd of 21,000 exuberant fans.
Ambers (real name Louis D’Ambrosio) had recently defeated the great Henry Armstrong for the lightweight crown. To honor his hometown of Herkimer, New York, Ambers was nicknamed “The Herkimer Hurricane.” He was a tireless seasoned ring tactician with an iron jaw.
The Herkimer Hurricane took Bummy to school. Actually, he did more than that. What Bummy got was a master class in the fine art of boxing. Ambers simply overwhelmed the young fighter with his vast experience. By the eighth round Davis was bleeding from his nose and mouth and both of his eyes were nearly closed, but he refused to go down, gutting it out to the last round. He won only two rounds on the judges’ scorecards. Davis realized he still had a lot to learn.
To close out 1940 Bummy was in Madison Square Garden with Fritzie Zivic, who had whipped Henry Armstrong for the welterweight title five weeks earlier.
Zivic had a ton of experience (128 bouts), but he was also one of the dirtiest fighters to ever wear a crown. Zivic knew every trick in the book—both subtle and not so subtle. Most of the tricks were done so artfully that he was never disqualified. Within a minute of the first round Zivic had thumbed, butted, and raked his laces across Davis’s eyes. At one point, while the ref was breaking up a clinch, Zivic stepped behind the official and belted Bummy. “He’s trying to blind me!” the distressed fighter screamed at his seconds during the one-minute break between the first and second rounds.
Zivic continued the same tactics in the second round. Davis was unable to land a solid punch on his elusive tormentor. Midway through the round he decided to take matters into his own hands—Brownsville style. Davis shoved Zivic back, shouting “Okay, you son-of-a bitch, if you want to fight dirty, let’s go!” and then went completely berserk. He began winging punches aimed directly at Zivic’s groin, landing six or seven shots before the referee was able to pull him off.
Davis was immediately disqualified. He responded by kicking the referee and then went after Zivic again. It took a small army of police, corner men, and the Garden’s security staff to restrain the wild-eyed Brownsville bomber and forcibly remove him from the arena. The 17,000 fans in attendance were in an uproar. Crumpled programs, hats, cigar butts, beer containers, and other assorted debris sailed into the ring. A full-scale riot was narrowly averted.
The next day the New York State Athletic Commission lowered the boom on Bummy. He was suspended for life and fined $2,500. But eight months later he was granted a temporary reprieve. The New York Commission allowed him to fight Zivic in a return match at New York’s Polo Grounds, with the proviso that his end of the purse would go to the US Army Relief Fund.
Davis had been inactive since their last bout and weighed almost 200 pounds when he began training. Zivic had kept busy, fighting at least once a month.
Both fighters were warned by the boxing commission that there would be serious consequences if they did not fight according to the rules.
Zivic behaved himself, using an incessant left jab and nimble footwork to keep Davis at a safe distance and avoid his vaunted left hook. The bout was competitive until the seventh round, when Zivic took full command and proceeded to administer a terrific beating. Davis was out on his feet when the referee intervened to stop the bout in the 10th round.
With his New York suspension still in effect, Davis remained active by fighting in other states. When the suspension was finally lifted, he returned to Madison Square Garden for the first time in three years. On February 18, 1944, he was matched with former lightweight champion Bob Montgomery. Bummy was a 4–1 underdog, but he still possessed the ability to draw in the customers. Over 18,000 fans were on hand to witness his return.
Bummy knocked out Montgomery in just 63 seconds of the first round. It was the quickest knockout ever recorded in Madison Square Garden. (Two weeks after his disastrous encounter with Davis, Montgomery regained the lightweight title by outpointing Beau Jack in 15 rounds.)
The Montgomery win was the climax of Davis’s colorful boxing career. He won nine of his next 11 bouts, but lost the important ones to Beau Jack and Henry Armstrong. Although he was only 24 years old, the Brownsville slugger had already fought 72 professional bouts. He had recently married and was considering hanging up his gloves, but could not resist the money offered him to fight the sport’s latest knockout sensation, Rocky Graziano.
The highly anticipated slugfest matched Bummy’s left hook against Rocky’s right cross. The fans got exactly what they expected. Before the bell ended the second round, Davis and Graziano had exchanged knockdowns. In the third round Graziano knocked Davis down with a punch that landed seconds after the bell rang. It’s possible Graziano did not hear the bell above the din of 17,000 screaming fans, but despite protests from Davis’s corner, the referee allowed the bout to continue. Davis was still groggy when the fourth round began and was quickly floored. Bummy got up—he always did—but Rocky was teeing off on his chin. The referee stopped the fight 44 seconds into the round.
In his eight years as a pro Davis had earned a small fortune, estimated to be in excess of $200,000. He used part of the money to invest in a neighborhood tavern and two racehorses.
It will never be known if he would have continued with his boxing career. In the early-morning hours of November 21, 1945, he was talking to some friends in his Brooklyn bar when four holdup men barged in with guns drawn. The thugs had already taken about $1,400 from other bars in the previous hour.
Bummy had just sold the establishment to his friend, who now stood behind the bar, a gun pointed at his head. Bummy felt an obligation to do something. He calmly addressed the four nervous gunmen. “Why don’t you leave him alone? The guy just bought this place. Give him a break.” For a moment the thieves stood frozen. Then the one nearest Bummy spoke up, “Why don’t you mind your own fucken’ business before I blow your brains out?”
Perhaps had the punk known who he was talking to, he would have chosen his words more carefully. But the die was cast. Bummy’s hair-trigger temper took over. His first left hook dropped the guy who insulted him, breaking his jaw. He then took off after the others. The hoodlums panicked and ran out the door while firing back at Bummy. A slug tore into his right arm but he kept charging. As they raced to their getaway car a bullet struck him in the neck, and another pierced his lung. Bummy collapsed and was dead before he hit the sidewalk.
The following day news of his death appeared on the front page of the New York Times. He was 25 years old and left a wife and two-year-old son.
Jackie Davis won a Chicago Golden Gloves title in 1930. Four years later he was a rated welterweight contender, having outpointed Izzy Jannazzo, Cocoa Kid, and former lightweight champion Sammy Mandell. In addition to the above top fighters, Jackie also crossed gloves with Barney Ross, Harry Dublinsky, Wesley Ramey, Andy Callahan, Pete Nebo, and Battling Battalino.
In 1934 Jackie Davis was stopped by future lightweight champion Lew Ambers. It was his only KO loss in 122 bouts.
Davis returned to his hometown of Cleveland after he retired. He was a referee in the 1940s and ’50s, and also wrote a sports column for the Cleveland Plain Dealer.
One of the Windy City’s best and most popular fighters in the 1930s was crack lightweight contender Davey Day, a stablemate of the great Barney Ross.
Day turned pro in 1931 and compiled an exceptional record, losing only five of his first 50 bouts. Other than two early prelim losses, his only setbacks were to top contenders Al Roth and Baby Arizmendi. The other loss was by split decision to lightweight champion Lou Ambers in a non-title bout. Despite rarely weighing more than 135 pounds, Davey beat many top lightweights and welterweights, and was rated in both divisions. On his way to a title shot he defeated Stanislaus Loayza, Charley Gomer, Jimmy Garrison, Joe Ghnouly, Tommy Spiegal, Bobby Pacho, Enrico Venturi, Pete Lello, and Roger Bernard.
By 1938 the only fighter standing between Day and a world championship was Henry Armstrong, the same fighter who had defeated Barney Ross for the welterweight title 10 months earlier. The phenomenal Armstrong, then at his peak, had also recently won both featherweight and lightweight crowns, thus becoming the only fighter in history to hold three titles simultaneously.
On March 31, 1939, at Madison Square Garden, Day challenged Armstrong for his welterweight championship. As agreed beforehand, Day weighed in 1 pound over the 135-pound lightweight limit so only Armstrong’s welterweight title was on the line. The challenger fought courageously in a grueling and bloody contest, but eventually succumbed to the incessant windmill attack of “Hammerin’ Hank.” The referee stopped the bout at 2:49 of the 12th round.
Proving you can’t keep a good man down, Davey bounced back two months later with an eighth-round TKO of top lightweight contender Pedro Montanez. He then split two fights with future champ Sammy Angott. They were rematched for a third time on May 3, 1940, for the vacant lightweight title, and Angott won a close 15-round decision.
Following his loss to Angott, Davey flattened Nick Castiglione in one round and won a 10-round decision over tough Billy Marquart. In his last fight, on October 10, 1941, he was knocked out in the first round by future lightweight champion Bob Montgomery. Aside from his loss to Armstrong, it was the only time in 74 pro bouts that he was ever knocked out. Davey retired after the loss to Montgomery and opened a luggage store in the Loop district. He also operated a veteran’s taxi for many years.
From 1925 to 1927 Sammy Dorfman lost only one of 40 professional fights. He established his credentials as a top featherweight contender, with victories over Carl Duane, Dominick Petrone, and Petey Mack.
On April 4, 1929, at Madison Square Garden, Sammy faced the great former featherweight champion Tony Canzoneri. Dorfman gave it his best shot, but Canzoneri was just too good, and walked off with a 10-round decision.
Following the loss to Canzoneri, Dorfman remained undefeated in his next 17 fights, until Detroit’s highly ranked Wesley Ramey ended his streak with a 10-round decision on May 15, 1931.
Sammy took great pride in the fact that no one had been able to knock him out. Toward the end of his career, in 1932, a biased referee stopped his bout with a Philadelphia boxer named Charlie Baxter because of a swollen eye. Dorfman was incensed by the referee’s decision. As reported in the New York Times, Dorfman “went at him,” and “it took half a dozen burly policemen to remove him from the ring. . . . The police and his seconds carried him to the dressing room.”
Dorfman fought only three more times and then retired. Eight years later, at the age of 36, he made a short-lived comeback as a middleweight. He knocked out his opponent in the second round and then hung up his gloves for good.
THE MEDICAL COMMUNITY GIVES IT A NAME
The outward signs of neurological damage caused by repeated blows to the head had been observed in boxers ever since the sport first began, but no one had ever put a medical term to it. In 1928 Dr. Harrison Martland, a noted forensic pathologist and the chief medical examiner for Newark, New Jersey, published an article in the Journal of the American Medical Association that included various case studies of active and retired boxers. Some of the boxers in the study exhibited symptoms that included tremors, mental confusion, slowed movement, and problems with balance and speech—all typical of fighters who’ve taken too many punches to the head. He coined the phrase “punch drunk syndrome” to describe the condition. A few years later doctors renamed the condition using the more elegantly worded dementia pugilistica.
Among the theories put forth by Dr. Martland was an explanation of how it was possible that multiple concussion hemorrhages in the deeper portions of the boxer’s brain could, over time, often mimic the symptoms seen in Parkinson’s disease. Today these cases are referred to as Parkinsonism Pugilistica, the syndrome currently affecting former heavyweight champion Muhammad Ali. (This should not be confused with regular Parkinson’s disease, which is a slowly progressive neurodegenerative disorder associated with motor and non-motor symptoms.)
Thirteen years after Dr. Martland’s article appeared, an important book on the subject was published. The Medical Aspect of Boxing by Ernst Jokl, MD, was the first book devoted entirely to explaining the types of injuries suffered by professional boxers. Since then the subject has been further analyzed by other doctors. In 1984 the American Medical Association adopted a resolution calling for the abolition of boxing, both amateur and professional, because of “the dangerous effects of boxing on the health of participants.”26
Over the past few years much attention has been paid to head injuries incurred by professional football players. The research currently being conducted in this regard can no doubt help to define the pathology of brain injuries suffered by boxers as well as football players, and perhaps lead to greater safety measures, although trying to solve the problem in a sport whose goal is to inflict physical damage remains problematical. The entire range of chronic head injuries originating from several different sports is now defined using the umbrella term chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE).
Italian-born Leone Efrati was one of the six million Jewish martyrs murdered in the Holocaust. Before the war he was one of Europe’s finest boxers, establishing an excellent record prior to his arrival in the United States in 1938. A victory over contender Frankie Covelli (their previous bout had ended in a draw decision) led to a National Boxing Association title bout with featherweight champion Leo Rodak in Chicago. Efrati lost a very close 10-round decision.
Two weeks after his unsuccessful bid for the featherweight title, Efrati fought a 10-round draw with future contender Pete Lello. In his final two bouts in America (he had 13 altogether), Efrati lost 10-round decisions to Covelli and future featherweight champion Jackie Callura.
In 1939 Efrati was deported back to Italy, which at the time was a German ally. His supporters in the United States tried to convince State Department officials that, as a Jew, his return was tantamount to a death sentence, but to no avail. Four years later, in 1943, Efrati was arrested in Rome. He was sent to Auschwitz, where he was forced to take part in brutal boxing matches against much heavier opponents for the amusement of the sadistic guards. Efrati survived all of this, but when his brother was beaten by the guards, he came to his defense. His fists were no match against machine guns, and Leone Efrati died in Auschwitz on April 16, 1944.
Irving Eldridge turned pro on August 28, 1933, with a four-round decision over Johnny Mendes at Starlight Park in the Bronx. The five-footeight 135-pounder was a diamond in the rough, so his managers took their time polishing the young fighter’s skills and getting him experience. Irving had 27 bouts before he engaged in his first eight-rounder. That fight, against highly ranked Frankie Covelli, resulted in his first loss.
Three years and 30 fights later, Irving was ready for any lightweight in the world. At various times between 1939 and 1940, The Ring magazine rated him as high as number eight among the top lightweight challengers. His stature was enhanced with victories over Tommy Spiegal, Jimmy Vaughn, Claude Varner, and future welterweight champion Freddie “Red” Cochrane.
In 1940 Eldridge outpointed Lenny “Boom Boom” Mancini (the father of Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini) in eight rounds. Six days later he was knocked out for only the second time in his career by top-ranked Aldo Spoldi, the same fighter who outpointed him three years earlier. Irving could have used a rest, but just two weeks later he was back in the ring for the last time, and lost a return bout to Mancini. In his entire career, up to that point, Eldridge had never suffered two consecutive losses. After 88 bouts, the 26-year-old decided it was time to hang up his gloves.
Between 1923 and 1926 Murray Elkins lost only one of 26 professional bouts. Among his victims were three outstanding boxers: Bruce Flowers, Joey Silvers, and Cirilin Olano. He lost a 10-round decision to Flowers in their return bout, but rebounded with victories over Al Bryant and Young Terry. For six months between 1928 and 1930, Elkins was rated among the top ten welterweight contenders.
Murray was one of four siblings, two of whom were involved in boxing. Eddie Elkins had over 70 bouts in the lightweight division, and brother Abe was a fight manager. Ruby was not affiliated with the sport. All four brothers died of heart attacks within a few years of each other.
Armand Emanuel certainly did not fit the popular image of a professional boxer. He was a college graduate who also possessed a degree from Golden Gate Law School, class of 1927. But passing the bar and opening a law practice could not put an end to Armand’s lifelong dream of one day acquiring a world boxing title.
In 1925, with only a dozen amateur fights under his belt, Armand utilized his superior speed, busy left jab, and nimble footwork to win both the Pacific Coast and National AAU heavyweight championships. The following year, while still attending law school, he turned pro under the management of his father, a successful realtor and the owner of an auto dealership in San Francisco.
Three years after turning pro Armand defeated Philadelphia contender Matt Adgie for his 27th consecutive victory. He then had a draw and a win against aging former light-heavy-weight champion Mike McTigue. The following month Armand entered the Madison Square Garden ring as a 7–1 underdog against the great light-heavyweight champion Tommy Loughran. Both men weighed over the 175-pound limit, so Loughran’s title was not at stake.
Fighting a mirror image of himself, Loughran was hard-pressed throughout the 10-round bout. At the conclusion it appeared that Armand had pulled off a major upset. Unfortunately the judges thought otherwise, and awarded the fight to Loughran. The 7,000 fans in attendance booed loud and long when the unpopular decision was announced.
Armand’s surprising performance, combined with his unusual background, had garnered national attention. “The Boxing Barrister” appeared on the cover of The Ring, and he was now rated among the top 10 light-heavyweight contenders. Some sportswriters were even comparing his boxing ability to the great Benny Leonard.
Two months after the Loughran bout, on August 27, 1928, Armand’s plans for a title shot were derailed by middleweight champion Mickey Walker. Although outweighed by 11 pounds, Walker, one of the greatest—and strongest—fighters of all time, knocked out Armand in the ninth round.
According to papa Emanuel, his son had been the unwitting victim of Jack Kearn’s chicanery. Kearns, Walker’s wily manager, made sure the ring floor had extra padding to slow down Armand’s fancy footwork and make it more difficult for him to evade Walker’s relentless attack.
His next important bout was against “The Nebraska Wildcat,” Ace Hudkins. Hudkins had recently lost a controversial decision to Walker in a middleweight title match. That fact alone should have been some cause for concern. So it was not much of a surprise when Hudkins, one of the best fighters to never win a title, clawed his way to a unanimous 10-round decision at Los Angeles’s Wrigley Field.
Armand followed the loss to Hudkins by outpointing heavyweight Jimmy Maloney and fighting to a draw with light-heavyweight contender Leo Lomski. But a surprising loss to a novice boxer named Al Morro had fight fans scratching their heads. After four more wins over obscure opponents, Armand traded in his leather boxing gloves for a leather attaché case and went to work full-time as a lawyer.
According to press reports, “The Boxing Barrister” had made over $100,000 during his five-year boxing career. Sadly, the stock market crash of 1929 wiped out his savings. In an effort to recoup some of his losses, Armand returned to the ring in 1932 to face undefeated heavyweight Steve Hamas, and was knocked out in the second round. Oddly enough, Hamas, a former collegiate football star, was one of the few active professional boxers to also hold a college degree.
The Hamas debacle sent Armand into permanent retirement. Whatever fighting he did thereafter was confined to the courtroom.
During the first two years of his pro career (1928–1930), Lew Farber compiled a modest 17-8-3 record. In 1931 he lost two non-title decisions to the great flyweight champion Midget Wolgast. It took two more years before Farber realized his full potential and became a serious contender for bantamweight honors. Showing great improvement, in 1933 he defeated Wolgast via a split 10-round (non-title) decision, and outpointed contenders Speedy Dado and Pablo Dano. These impressive victories earned him a number-three ranking among the world’s elite bantamweights.
Farber eventually outgrew the bantamweight class and fought the last three years of his career as a featherweight. He attained contender status in that division as well, but lost crucial decisions to bantamweight champion Baltazar Sangchili (non-title) and featherweight contender Filio Echevarria.
Dissatisfied with his progress and the lack of big-money fights, Farber decided to hang up his gloves at the age of 26. Lew’s younger brother, welterweight Mickey Farber, was another tough Lower East Side boxer best remembered for his two memorable 10-round split-decision brawls with Brownsville’s Al “Bummy” Davis.
In the first three years of his professional boxing career Abe Feldman lost only two of 31 bouts, including a “no contest” with future heavyweight champion Jim Braddock. (That 1933 bout is featured in the film, Cinderella Man.) Abe went on to score impressive victories over Al Ettore, Steve Dudas, and Johnny Miler, and drew with Bob Olin. (In his next fight Olin won the lightheavyweight title.)
Feldman’s greatest victory occurred on July 24, 1935, when he outpointed John Henry Lewis three months before Lewis took the title from Olin. The New York Times reported that “Lewis, after a good start, tired under Feldman’s steady body punching.”27
After defeating Lewis the National Boxing Association rated Feldman the second-best light heavyweight for 1935. But Abe could not keep the streak going, and foundered in subsequent bouts against veteran Jack Roper and former light-heavyweight champ Maxie Rosenbloom, losing decisions to both men. The once-promising boxer began a downward spiral in 1936, losing 10 of his last 17 bouts. Most of his losses were to good boxers with winning records.
Abe rarely weighed more than 184 pounds. He was a strong and durable boxer who liked to fight at close quarters where his superior strength was a factor when facing light-heavyweight opponents. He also thought nothing of taking on heavyweights—a disadvantage when facing powerful maulers such as Tony Galento and Leroy Haynes, who outweighed him by 20 and 37 pounds, respectively. In 55 professional bouts, only Galento and Haynes were able to stop him.
Lew Feldman was one of the most active and durable fighters of the 1930s. His first pro fight was a four-round draw with Sammy Farber on November 14, 1927. Over the next 13 years, fighting in both the featherweight and lightweight divisions, Feldman engaged in 187 additional contests, including 25 times against 12 different world champions—eight of whom he defeated. Like many fighters of his era, Feldman developed slowly against steadily improving competition. Although his managers were careful not to overmatch him, very few of his opponents had losing records.
On August 25, 1932, Feldman outpointed the reigning NBA featherweight champion, Tommy Paul, in a 10-round non-title bout. Six weeks later he was knocked out by the great Kid Chocolate in the 12th round of a featherweight title bout sanctioned by the New York State Athletic Commission. This was not the first time Feldman lost to Chocolate. He previously dropped two hotly contested decisions to the Cuban wonder.
In 1938 Feldman challenged the great Henry Armstrong for the welterweight championship. Lew was past his prime, Armstrong at his peak. Armstrong was one of the ring’s all-time great fighters and had previously stopped Feldman in the sixth round of a non-title fight six months earlier. This time he needed just one round to end the fight.
In addition to Tommy Paul, the other world champions that Feldman outpointed were Petey Sarron, Mike Belloise (twice), Lew Jenkins, Chalky Wright (twice), Midget Wolgast, Bat Battalino, and Freddie “Red” Cochrane.
Boxing, like any other art form, has its share of child prodigies. Before he left Chicago young Jake Finkelstein was instructed in the finer points of the sport by trainer and former ring great Jack Blackburn—the same man who taught Joe Louis everything he knew about boxing.
When Jake and his family moved to California, he continued his boxing instruction at the Los Angeles Sporting Club under the watchful eye of another master trainer, George Blake. The 13-year-old’s natural talent and instinct for the sport riveted Blake. Further exciting the experienced trainer’s enthusiasm was the realization that the boy’s obvious talent was wedded to tremendous confidence and determination.
Three years and 50 amateur fights later, 16-year-old Jackie Fields (at some point during his amateur career, “Finkelstein” became “Fields”) was in Paris, representing the United States at the 1924 Olympic Games.
Fighting in the 126-pound featherweight division, Jackie defeated five foreign opponents before qualifying for the gold-medal bout against fellow countryman, Joe Salas. (At the time Olympic boxing rules allowed two entries per nation.) After three rounds of torrid, nonstop action, Jackie Fields’s hand was raised in victory. At 16 years of age, he became the youngest boxer ever to win a gold medal in the Olympic Games.
Jackie Fields, the son of a kosher butcher, was a young man in a hurry. Turning pro five days before his 17th birthday, he racked up five wins in six fights, including one draw. Nine months after his first professional fight Jackie was matched with future ring great Jimmy McLarnin. He was not ready for a fighter of McLarnin’s caliber and experience, but the $5,000 he was guaranteed for taking the match pushed logic aside.
McLarnin floored him four times en route to a second-round KO victory. Adding injury to insult Jackie suffered a broken jaw. It was the only time in his 86 professional fights that Fields was ever knocked out.
Over the next three years Jackie grew into a 145-pound welterweight, compiling a 36-2 record with one no-decision. His only losses were to ring greats Louis “Kid” Kaplan and Sammy Mandell.
On March 25, 1929, Jackie fought Young Jack Thompson for the vacant National Boxing Association World welterweight title. Thompson, a masterful ring tactician who some people were already comparing to the legendary Joe Gans, was outpointed over 10 rounds. (California law did not permit professional fights beyond 10 rounds.) It was Thompson’s second loss to Fields.
Baltimore’s Joe Dundee was recognized by the powerful New York State Athletic Commission as world welterweight champion. A unification fight was arranged for July 25, 1929, at the State Fairgrounds in Detroit, Michigan. Twenty-five thousand fans anxiously awaited the opening bell.
Fields, a 2–1 favorite to win, dominated his opponent from the opening bell. After being floored four times in the second round, Dundee, on the verge of being knocked out, deliberately hit Fields below the belt, causing an automatic disqualification. In 1970 Fields told author Peter Heller that Dundee’s manager had bet Dundee’s entire purse of $50,000 on their fighter, with the provision that if the fight ended in a disqualification, all bets would be called off. Dundee denied the punch was intentional, explaining to boxing officials that in his befogged state he didn’t know what he was doing, but rumors persisted that he’d fouled out to save his $50,000 payday.
On February 22, 1930, in San Francisco, Fields suffered his first defeat in two years when he lost a 10-round decision to Young Corbett III. Corbett’s southpaw style had bothered him, and by the time he figured out how to adjust his strategy, it was too late. Since Corbett had weighed two pounds over the welterweight limit, Fields’s title was not at stake. Jackie rebounded from the Corbett defeat with a TKO over future welterweight champion Tommy Freeman in Cleveland.
On May 9, 1930, at the Olympia Arena in Detroit, Fields defended his undisputed title for the first time against former opponent Young Jack Thompson. The challenger put on a brilliant boxing exhibition over the last five rounds of the 15-round bout and was awarded the decision.
Two years later Fields challenged Lou Brouillard for the welterweight title. The tough French- Canadian southpaw had recently dethroned Young Jack Thompson. Jackie wasn’t impressed. He outboxed Brouillard and regained the title with a unanimous 10-round decision. He even managed to floor the rock-jawed Canadian in the eighth round.
In 1932 Jackie was involved in an automobile accident outside of Louisville, Kentucky, that resulted in a severe injury to his eye. He should have quit, but the Depression had wiped out nearly all of the $500,000 he had earned in the ring. He wanted at least one more big payday before hanging up his gloves. Although very few people knew it, Jackie had only partial vision in the affected eye.
When he was offered $45,000 to defend his title against former conqueror Young Corbett III on March 22, 1933, Jackie readily accepted the challenge, even though the bout would be fought in Corbett’s hometown of San Francisco.
The decision was close enough to have gone either way, but when the bell rang ending the final round, the referee raised Corbett’s hand in victory.
Nine weeks later, in the final bout of his career, Jackie won a 10-round decision over Young Peter Jackson at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. Jackie would have continued fighting, but fearing injury to his good eye convinced him to retire.
In his post-boxing life Jackie followed his Los Angeles neighbors Mushy Callahan and Newsboy Brown into the movie business, working for Twentieth Century Fox in various capacities.
In 1957 Jackie moved to Las Vegas, Nevada, and became part owner of the Tropicana Hotel. He eventually sold his interest in the hotel but continued to work as the hotel’s public relations director. During the 1960s he also served as chairman of the Nevada State Athletic Commission.
Jackie Fields fought 12 world champions, 19 times. He never shied away from the best fighters in his division. The majority of his fights were against quality opponents. He easily ranks among the greatest Jewish boxers of all time.
Al Foreman was orphaned at the age of four. For the next 10 years he lived in a home for Jewish orphans outside London. At the age of 14, with World War I still raging, he ran away and tried to join the army. The recruiting officer told him he was too young to serve in a combat unit, but if the orphanage would give its permission, he could serve as a drummer boy in the famous Black Watch infantry regiment. Permission was granted, but the war abruptly ended, and Al’s outfit was assigned to occupation duty. It was at this time that he first laced on a pair of boxing gloves.28
Foreman’s success as an army boxer convinced him that he had a future in the ring. His first documented bout occurred in 1920. Over the next six years he compiled a 49-12-7 record that included 30 wins by knockout.
In 1924 he moved to Canada and eventually became a citizen. Foreman’s prime as a fighter was 1927 to 1932. During that time he lost only four out of 53 fights. The losses were to former featherweight champion Louis “Kid” Kaplan, future junior lightweight champion Johnny Jadick, and contenders Billy Townsend and Nel Tarleton—all superb fighters.
During the last four years of his career Al won the Canadian, British, and British Empire lightweight championships. He was a highly rated contender in both the featherweight and junior lightweight classes, earning that status by defeating George Rose, Carl Tremaine, Leo “Kid” Roy, Phil McGraw, title claimant Maurice Holtzer, and former champions Johnny Dundee and Mike Ballerino.
Al Foreman had a cast-iron chin. He was stopped only twice in 130 professional fights. As far as can be determined he was never counted out. His final fight occurred on June 29, 1934, in Washington, DC—a split-decision loss to future featherweight champion Petey Sarron.
During his career Foreman had studied photography in his spare time. After hanging up his gloves he got a job with the Montreal Standard, one of Canada’s largest weekly national newspapers. It wasn’t long before the quality of his work earned him recognition as one of the best news photographers in the business.29
At the outbreak of World War II Al volunteered for service and was commissioned as a turret gunner with the Royal Air Force. His unit, “The Damn Busters,” became famous for dropping 22,500-pound bombs—the most powerful conventional weapon of the war—that destroyed the Ruhr dams in Germany. In all he made 37 operational flights, including one mission where his turret was hit by flak and his crewmates found him hanging from the fuselage, his feet jammed in the wreckage. In recognition for his service he was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross.30
Upon his return to civilian life Al opened his own portrait studio in Montreal. He died of a heart attack in 1954 at the age of 50.
Francesco Buonaugurio fought as “Kid Francis” to honor his first trainer, Al Francis. The starcrossed boxer was born in Italy but raised in Marseille, France. Between 1928 and 1932 he was a top-rated bantamweight and featherweight contender. Francis fought in Europe, South America, and the United States, including 27 times in New York City. His picture appeared on the cover of The Ring magazine in June 1931.
Kid Francis had a fan-friendly style. He bored in aggressively and rarely took a backward step. His attack featured a heavy emphasis on body punching. He defeated such outstanding ring men as Andre Routis, Archie Bell, Pete De Grasse, Eugene Huat, and former flyweight champion Fidel La Barba. He also lost a return bout to La Barba. In his only title fight he lost a controversial split decision to the phenomenal bantamweight champion Panama Al Brown in 1932 (one of three losses to Brown).
The following year Francis lost a 10-round decision to former champion and fellow Frenchman, Victor “Young” Perez. No one could have imagined that 10 years later both Perez and Francis would meet the same tragic fate as Holocaust victims. In 1943 Kid Francis was arrested by the Germans in Paris and deported to Auschwitz, where he was murdered.
Bernie Friedkin began his professional boxing career while still in high school—ergo his nickname, “Schoolboy.” A smart boxer who relied more on speed and technique than punching power, Bernie is best known for his famous “grudge match” with Brooklyn rival Al “Bummy” Davis. Both fighters were hugely popular in their Brownsville neighborhood, and it was inevitable that they would eventually meet to settle who was best. On July 21, 1938, at Madison Square Garden, Bummy answered the question when he knocked out Bernie in the fourth round.
In subsequent bouts Friedkin drew with former featherweight champions Kid Chocolate, Mike Belloise (twice), and Petey Scalzo. He was outpointed by Scalzo in their rematch. Other notable opponents were Al Reid, Joey Fontana, Everett Rightmire, and Pat Foley. Bernie had one of the highest ratios of draws to total fights—16 out of 76.
After hanging up his gloves he took a job with the Ronzoni Macaroni Company, and later worked as a dispatcher at Kennedy Airport.
Sailor Friedman (or “Freedman,” as it was sometimes spelled in newspapers) was a fine fighter, but his personal life was often mired in controversy due to his affiliation with gamblers and bootleggers.
Friedman ran away from home at the age of 14. The following year he joined the United States Navy. During his three-year tour he served on the battleship USS Michigan. In 1915 he won the navy bantamweight championship, but shortly thereafter received a one-year suspension for fighting with a doctored glove.*
Sailor turned pro in 1916. His manager was Philadelphia’s Max “Boo Boo” Hoff, a notorious Jewish Prohibition-era bootlegger who also managed some of the city’s best prizefighters. After he retired in 1928, Sailor remained close to Hoff and served as his bodyguard.
In his prime Friedman was one of the toughest competitors in both the lightweight and welterweight divisions. He was a persistent pressure fighter with a chin that was virtually dent-proof. In 118 professional bouts Friedman was stopped only once, very early in his career.
Friedman fought at least once a month, except for a six-month gap in 1922. That year, instead of facing opponents in the ring, he found himself in a Chicago courtroom facing a prosecutor who was trying to send him to the electric chair. He and two other men were accused of murdering Abraham Rubin, a taxicab driver, who was said to have ties to the bootleg liquor trade as a transporter. The first trial ended in a deadlock. Friedman was exonerated in a second trial and resumed his boxing career. He also continued to work as an enforcer for Hoff.
In 1925 Friedman fought two no-decision bouts with the great welterweight champion Mickey Walker in Newark, New Jersey. Newspapers awarded the unofficial verdicts to Walker.
Friedman retired in 1928. In his post-boxing life he continued to work for Philadelphia racketeers, most notably Nig Rosen (Harry Stromberg). Sailor faded from public view after 1934, and additional information as to whatever became of him is unknown.
London-born Danny Frush was managed by the famous theatrical impresario Sam Harris. In his first important bout in America, Danny lost a 15-round decision to Jackie “Kid” Wolfe. Over the next three years he defeated fringe contenders Andy Chaney, Artie O’Leary, Freddie Jacks, and Al Shubert, but was stopped in the seventh round (non-title) by featherweight champion Johnny Kilbane.
On August 15, 1922, at Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field, over 15,000 fans were on hand to see Frush and Johnny Dundee compete for the vacant world featherweight title (as recognized by the New York State Athletic Commission). Dundee stopped Frush in the ninth round. Two fights later Frush was knocked out by future featherweight king, Louis “Kid” Kaplan. Proving you can’t keep a good man down, in his next bout Frush scored an eighth-round knockout over former champion Eugène Criqui in Paris, France.
After hanging up his gloves in 1928, Danny opened a health spa in Baltimore. He also studied to become a licensed physical therapist, eventually going into that field full-time.
After he dropped out of school in the ninth grade, Joe Glick was employed as a buttonhole maker in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Seeing no future in this, Joe became a professional boxer at the age of 16. Over the next three years he lost only four of 68 fights.
On January 29, 1926, in his 99th pro fight, Joe appeared in his first Madison Square Garden main event, outpointing the aging ring legend, Johnny Dundee. Glick’s end of the purse was $10,000. That adds up to a lot of buttonholes. The fight was the first of nine Garden main events for Joe.
His victory over Dundee led to a title bout later that year with junior lightweight champion Tod Morgan. Although Glick was game, Morgan was just too slick, and outboxed the challenger, winning at least 11 of the 15 rounds.
Among Joe’s 244 opponents were scores of top contenders and 14 past, present, or future world champions. Incredibly, he went through all of this with only one functioning eye!
The only persons who knew his secret, other than his family, were trainer Ray Arcel and manager Harry Alberts. Glick was born with a condition known as “amblyopic syndrome.” In layman’s terms it meant the muscles of his right eye had failed to develop. He passed the State Athletic Commission’s physical exam by memorizing the eye charts.
In spite of his handicap Joe developed into a fine boxer, renowned for his left hook to the body, competitive drive, and better-than-average defense.
Among the top fighters Glick defeated were Danny Kramer, Ray Miller, Baby Joe Gans, Andre Routis, Mike Dundee, Bobby Garcia, and Luis Vicentini. He lost a decision to future welterweight champion Jimmy McLarnin and fought two draws with former featherweight champion Mike Ballerino.
In November 1928 Glick outpointed the number-three lightweight contender, Baby Joe Gans, before 19,000 fans in Madison Square Garden. It was a huge win for the 23-year-old boxer. Baby Joe Gans was an exceptional boxer and dangerous puncher. He was scrupulously avoided by many other contenders.
Two months later Glick returned to the same venue to face Jimmy McLarnin for the second time. McLarnin had already knocked out several top Jewish fighters, so the usual Irish vs. Jewish rivalry was even more pronounced for this bout. A standing-room-only crowd jammed Madison Square Garden to see the highly anticipated battle.
McLarnin won the 10-round decision, but many fans disagreed with the verdict. The return bout took place six weeks later, and once again the Garden was packed to the rafters. This time Glick was not going to leave the result up to the judges. He intended to knock out McLarnin.
Glick rushed out of his corner and carelessly ran into a terrific left hook to the head. He staggered back and was relentlessly pursued and pummeled by McLarnin for the remainder of the round. In the second round McLarnin dropped his still-dazed opponent twice before knocking him out with a picture-perfect right cross to the jaw. It was only the third time in 164 professional fights that Glick had been stopped.
If not for the extraordinary depth of talent in both the junior lightweight and lightweight divisions, Joe Glick most assuredly would have won a championship. But the field was just too crowded with great fighters. Louis “Kid” Kaplan, Benny Bass, Jackie “Kid” Berg, Tony Canzoneri, and Young Corbett III outpointed him, frustrating his drive to win a world title.
As his career wound down in the early 1930s, Joe lost 18 of his last 25 fights. Add to that number at least a dozen decisions levied against him that could have gone the other way, plus seven disqualifications for questionable low blows, and the real meaning of those 68 defeats on his record can easily be misinterpreted—unless placed in proper context.
In Glick’s last two fights—typically spaced just one month apart—he was knocked out by future middleweight champions Ceferino Garcia and Freddie Steele. Joe was way past his prime at this point in his career.
Many of his later fights took place on the West Coast, where he became a fan favorite. After hanging up his gloves Joe moved to Los Angeles and began to get work in pictures as a bit player. He eventually retired with a pension from the Screen Actors Guild.
Joe Glick was not quite good enough to defeat the greatest fighters of his era, but considering the competition he faced and his relentless, nonstop schedule, coming in second best was quite an accomplishment. One has to wonder what he could have achieved with two good eyes.
HOLLYWOOD AND BOXING
Boxing is a sport of drama, excitement, romance, and physicality—qualities that filmmakers have mined to the fullest. Boxing-themed motion pictures have even included musicals and Westerns. The industry’s love affair with boxing goes back to the very beginning of motion pictures. In 1894 Thomas Edison, coinventor of the motion picture camera, paid heavyweight champion James J. Corbett $5,000 plus royalties for the rights to distribute a film of Corbett sparring with another boxer. Three years later Corbett’s title fight with Bob Fitzsimmons became the first heavyweight championship to be filmed.31
Since the 1890s nearly 500 boxing-themed movies have been produced—more than all baseball, football, and basketball films combined.32 Some of Hollywood’s greatest directors have been drawn to the sport. They include Alfred Hitchcock (The Ring, 1927), King Vidor (The Champ, 1931), Rouben Mamoulian (Golden Boy, 1939), Raoul Walsh (Gentleman Jim, 1942), Robert Wise (The SetUp, 1949, and Somebody Up There Likes Me, 1956), Stanley Kubrick (Day of the Fight, 1951, a documentary), John Huston (Fat City, 1972), and Martin Scorsese (Raging Bull. 1980).
If a boxing film adheres to historical reality, it will usually include a recognizable Jewish character depicted as a boxer, trainer, or manager. Sylvester Stallone created Rocky’s fictional Jewish trainer, “Mickey Goldmill” (brilliantly acted by Burgess Meredith) as a not-so-subtle homage to Charley Goldman, the trainer of undefeated heavyweight champion Rocky Marciano. Cinderella Man (2006) depicts the life of Depression-era Irish-American heavyweight champion James J. Braddock. The film accurately portrays the prevalence of Jewish boxers at that time. Early scenes show Braddock in the ring with two of the five Jewish opponents he faced during his career.
Marty Gold paid his dues in the highly competitive flyweight division of the 1920s. His apprenticeship included bouts against contenders Black Bill, Dave Adelman, Eddie Leonard, Benny Schwartz, and future champions Frankie Genaro, Midget Wolgast, Johnny McCoy, and Panama Al Brown. He learned valuable lessons from all of them.
By 1930, after nine years in the pro ranks, all the hard work and experience was about to pay off. That year he defeated top flyweight contenders Black Bill and Frenchy Belanger—victories that were particularly gratifying, as he had lost to both in previous years. Between 1930 and 1931 Gold was rated among the top 10 flyweight contenders.
Gold often went into a popular fighter’s backyard, which meant a good payday but often resulted in a “hometown” decision for his opponent. It is highly probable that half (or more) of his losses out of town were the result of biased or crooked officiating. But win or lose, in 131 professional fights, no opponent could ever put Marty down for the count.
In the 1930s and ’40s, every fighter hailing from Detroit fought in the shadow of the great Joe Louis. In spite of this, several other Motor City clouters were good enough to gain international recognition. One of the best was Benny Goldberg, a classy hard-punching southpaw who ranked among the top bantamweight contenders for almost five years.
Benny was born in Warsaw, Poland, and came to America with his parents when he was two years old. The family settled in Detroit, where Benny turned pro in 1937 after compiling an outstanding amateur record. In 1936, in a specially arranged amateur match, he defeated Olympic gold medalist and future world featherweight champion Jackie Wilson.
The young fighter credited Barney Ross for his success in the ring. Benny studied and analyzed Ross’s classic boxing style and patterned himself after the great boxer. His dedication paid off. Benny’s rise in the pros was meteoric. Among his victims were contenders Tony Olivera, Abe Denner, and former featherweight champion Joey Archibald. Those victories earned him a shot at the bantamweight championship held by California’s Manuel Ortiz. Five and a half years earlier Goldberg had defeated Ortiz in a four-round preliminary bout when both were just starting out as pros.
Manuel Ortiz is recognized as one of the greatest bantamweight champions of all time. He held the title for eight years and defended it 21 times. In a hard-fought 15-rounder Ortiz proved to be a shade better and won the decision. Undeterred by the loss, Benny defeated his next seven opponents, including a decision over fifthranked Luis Castillo.
Benny’s last 11 bouts took place in southern California. He liked the climate and decided to make his home in Los Angeles. For many years he worked for the movie studios as a bodyguard for actors. Among his clients were Tony Curtis, Vince Edwards, and Robert Blake.
In boxing, as in life, it pays to be in the right place at the right time. On October 17, 1923, only two days before he was scheduled to defend his title against Chicago’s Joe Burman at Madison Square Garden, bantamweight champion Joe Lynch insisted on a postponement, claiming a shoulder injury. The champion was summoned to the New York State Athletic Commission office. A staff physician examined him and stated the injury was not that serious. Lynch disagreed and refused to fight. The Commission then stripped him of the title and awarded it to Burman, who seven months earlier had won a newspaper verdict over Lynch in a 10-round non-title bout.
Promoter Tex Rickard sent out an emergency call for a substitute. Bantamweight contender Abe Goldstein, a 24-year-old veteran of 103 professional fights, answered the call. Goldstein was in great shape. He’d already fought three times in the previous 17 days.
Abe was not about to squander a golden opportunity. He staged a furious rally in the closing moments of the fight and was awarded the 12-round decision and the title.
Previous to his title-winning effort, Abe had proven his mettle against the likes of Johnny Buff, Young Montreal, Frankie Genaro, Kid Williams, Earl Puryear, and Pete Zivic. His most impressive victory had been a 15-round drubbing of future flyweight champion Pancho Villa in 1922. In a rematch the ferocious little Filipino—one of boxing’s all-time greats—outpointed Goldstein. But the defeat did not alter Abe’s status as a leading contender for bantamweight honors.
Goldstein, like many other fighters of his era, fought once or twice a month in a highly competitive environment overflowing with extraordinary talent.
The next big moment for Abe came five months after winning the title. On March 21, 1924, at Madison Square Garden he outboxed Joe Lynch and won a unanimous 15-round decision. The victory was sweet revenge. Lynch, a great fighter, had knocked him out in the 11th round three and a half years earlier.
Goldstein successfully defended his title twice, outpointing Charles Ledoux and Tommy Ryan in 15-round bouts. His reign as bantamweight champion came to an end on December 19, 1924, when Brooklyn’s Eddie “Cannonball” Martin won a razor-thin 15-round decision.
As an ex-champ Goldstein continued to mix it up with the world’s best bantams. In 1926, 10 years after turning pro, he won a decision over future champion Panama Al Brown. One year later Abe lost a 10-round decision to Bud Taylor, who was only six weeks away from winning the vacant bantamweight title in a bout with Tony Canzoneri. Goldstein had fought on the undercard of the Taylor vs. Canzoneri bout. He fought an up-and-coming Filipino named Ignacio Fernandez and was stopped in the seventh round. Abe decided it was time to retire. To his credit he never attempted a comeback.
If boxers were judged on physical appearance alone, then frail, sickly-looking Ruby Goldstein would have been given little chance to succeed. But boxing is not a bodybuilding or strong-man contest, and looks can be deceiving. Despite his somewhat fragile appearance, very few boxers have ever entered the ring with as much natural talent and raw punching power as “The Jewel of the Ghetto.”
Although Goldstein never weighed more than 145 pounds during his prime, he was known to drop light heavyweights in the gym while wearing 16-ounce training gloves! Yet punching power was not his greatest asset. In the ring, perfectly balanced and gliding effortlessly as if on ice, he resembled ballet star Rudolf Nureyev with boxing gloves. Ruby’s darting jabs set up a destructive right cross that was delivered with uncanny speed and extraordinary power. His natural ability was enhanced under the tutelage of master trainer Hymie Cantor who took Goldstein under his wing and prepared his entry into the professional ranks.
Almost from the outset of his career Goldstein was referred to by newspaper reporters as “the world’s greatest prospect,” and the logical heir apparent to recently retired lightweight champion Benny Leonard.
Ruby had won 19 amateur fights before turning pro on December 30, 1924, with a second-round KO of Al Vano at the Pioneer Sporting Club in New York. Over the next 17 months he chalked up another 22 straight victories, 11 by knockout. “The Jewel of the Ghetto” caught the public’s imagination. He was wildly popular, and often fought before standing-room-only crowds.
It wasn’t long before big-time mobsters also took an interest in Ruby. Waxey Gordon (Irving Wexler), one of New York’s major Jewish bootleggers, bought into Ruby’s contract, becoming a 50 percent partner in his management. Newly rich bootleggers liked to collect beautiful women, promising prizefighters and fast racehorses to show off to their friends. The Mob guys often bet heavily on Ruby, and he did not let them down. He appeared well on his way toward winning the lightweight championship.33
Nobody saw it coming, but the bubble was about to burst.
On June 25, 1926, more than 15,000 fans jammed the Coney Island Stadium to watch Ruby continue his march to the lightweight championship. His opponent was little-known Ace Hudkins, aka, “The Nebraska Wildcat.” The soubriquet was an accurate description of Hudkins’s vicious fighting style. He was an aggressive hell-for-leather type who could not be discouraged no matter how hard he was hit. Oddsmakers were not impressed. They made Ruby the 4–1 favorite to win.
Hudkins’s record was a decent 36-8-11, with 15 wins by KO, but most of his fights had taken place on the West Coast, so he was hardly known to New York fight fans, except for the fact that speed demon Sid Terris had easily outpointed him a year earlier in Chicago.
The fight was scheduled for six rounds, since both Goldstein (age 18) and Hudkins (age 20) were below the legal age of 21, required to fight a 10-round bout in New York. Ruby was nervous but confident. He knew that Waxey Gordon and his cohorts had placed huge bets on him to knock out Hudkins.
Within a minute of the first round, Ruby, as expected, floored Hudkins with a tremendous right-hand punch to the jaw. It was the first time “The Nebraska Wildcat” was ever knocked down. He lay flat on his back and seemed dead to the world. As the crowd cheered, Ruby turned and walked to a neutral corner, fully expecting another easy win. But at the count of seven Hudkins stirred and, using the ropes to aid his ascent, just beat the count.
Ruby was wild with his follow-up punches, allowing Hudkins to survive the remainder of the first round. Hudkins came out fresh in the next round and took the offensive, landing damaging punches to Ruby’s body. Ruby desperately tried to land another haymaker. His frustration grew as his inability to knock out his stubborn opponent continued into round three. In the fourth round Ruby was outboxing Hudkins when the Nebraskan suddenly rushed him to the ropes. Goldstein never saw the sweeping left hook that landed on the point of his chin. The lower ring rope broke Ruby’s fall before he slid to the canvas, where he was counted out for the first time.
“The Jewel of the Ghetto” was devastated that he’d let down his army of fans, many of whom had bet money they could ill afford to lose. The next day a headline in the New York Evening Journal read: “$400,000 Changed Hands.” The paper listed many of the biggest losers, including two of notorious gambler Arnold Rothstein’s lieutenants, who were reported to have dropped a total of $35,000 between them. Waxey Gordon, part owner of Goldstein, lost close to $45,000. Even Al Jolson, a big rooter for Goldstein, was said to have dropped $5,000. One bettor, the paper reported, took the short end and wound up a big winner. Professional gambler Nick the Greek won approximately $80,000 betting on Hudkins.34
It seemed to Ruby that the entire Jewish population of the Lower East Side went into mourning after his defeat—which wasn’t far from the truth. For an 18-year-old kid, the pressure was too much to bear. Too embarrassed to face his fans, Ruby took a train out of New York and didn’t get off until he arrived in California.
A few months later he returned to New York and tried to rebuild his career. He would lose only five of his next 38 fights. But something had gone out of Ruby after the loss to Hudkins. Yes, there were impressive wins over Jack Zivic, Cuddy DeMarco, and former lightweight champion Jimmy Goodrich, but there were also huge losses when it counted most—to Sid Terris (KO by 1) and Jimmy McLarnin (KO by 2).
Goldstein was never outpointed. His final stats were 54 wins (38 by KO) and six losses. All six losses were by knockout. Although he continued to show flashes of the old Ruby, he always seemed to lose the big ones. Perhaps if Goldstein had been an older and more mature boxer when he fought Hudkins, he could have handled the defeat better, but that scenario was not in the cards. Like more-recent boxing prodigies Mike Tyson and Gerry Cooney, Goldstein never overcame the psychological effect of that first disastrous knockout loss. His entire boxing career was defined by that one crushing defeat.
In retirement Ruby became a highly respected referee. He officiated in 39 world championships and hundreds of other important fights. If you never saw Ruby fight you could still get an idea of his extraordinary ability as a fighter by watching his impeccably balanced footwork as he quickly glided and shifted about the ring as if on skates. His reputation as an honest arbiter was enhanced in 1947 when he cast the lone dissenting (and accurate) vote for Jersey Joe Walcott in his bout with Joe Louis.
When he wasn’t refereeing, Ruby was employed for many years as a salesman for the Schenley Liquor Company.
In 1962 Ruby’s reputation as a referee was marred when he was accused of a late stoppage in the Benny “Kid” Paret vs. Emile Griffith title fight. Paret died 10 days later from injuries sustained in that fight. Despite the blame heaped on Ruby, Paret was really the victim of boxing’s irregular medical supervision. He came into the ring for his final fight neurologically damaged from a series of brutal fights, capped off by a terrible beating he had received just three months earlier against middleweight champion Gene Fullmer, yet no medical tests were ordered, nor was Paret’s license suspended. He was an accident waiting to happen. While Ruby took the brunt of the blame, the entity most responsible was the negligent New York State Athletic Commission. Ruby worked one more fight after that tragic incident and never refereed again.
In the final analysis, Ruby Goldstein was a credit to the sport of boxing, both as a fighter and a referee.
Among Charley Gomer’s 159 opponents were 5 world champions and a slew of world-class contenders. His first major victory occurred in 1935 when he split two decisions with topranking lightweight Eddie Cool. For the next six years Charley fought on average once or twice a month. Opponents included world champions Mike Belloise, Chalky Wright, Kid Chocolate, Benny Bass, and Freddie “Red” Cochrane.
Although just a step below the best lightweight fighters of his era, Gomer was always capable of upsetting the odds. In 1940, nearing the end of his prolific 11-year career, he won decisions over featherweight contenders Everett Rightmire and Abe Denner. Charley fought all over the United States, but he was most popular in his hometown of Baltimore, where 45 of his 159 bouts took place.
The career of Joey Goodman presents a textbook case of how boxers of the Golden Age learned their trade. Joey, a 16-year-old 130-pounder, turned pro in 1925. Over the next four years he was brought along slowly, trading jabs and hooks with other ambitious youngsters like Willie Siegel, Jackie Cohen, Buster Brown, Frankie DeAngelo, Al Ridgeway, Maxie Strub, and Lope Tenorio. By the end of 1929 Joey had compiled a respectable 42-11-5 record, including 15 wins by knockout. He was now ready to challenge any lightweight in the world.
On February 3, 1930, in his sixtieth pro bout, Joey took on lightweight champion Sammy Mandell. The contract stipulated that both men weigh over 135 pounds, so Mandell’s title would not be at stake if he lost. The precaution was not warranted. Mandell, one of the finest boxers in the history of the division, had no trouble outboxing Goodman and winning the decision.
Undeterred by the defeat, Joey lost only one of his next 13 contests. His only other loss that year was to junior lightweight champion Benny Bass (non-title). His excellent showing against Bass, a former featherweight champion, boosted Joey’s stock considerably.
In 1931 Joey fought his way into the junior welterweight top 10 with victories over Tommy Grogan and Jack Portney. Despite his fine record Goodman never received a title shot. Perhaps it was all too frustrating, but for reasons unknown, he had only one fight each in 1934 and 1935 before deciding to hang up his gloves at the age of 25.
In an era of intense competition in both the lightweight and welterweight divisions, this rock-jawed boxer was never stopped, and established an enviable record of only 14 losses in 98 fights.
Al Gordon established his impressive professional credentials against the likes of Bobby Wolgast, Rosey Stoy, Joe Ryder, Frankie Rice, and future featherweight champion Benny Bass.
A temporary setback occurred in 1924 when Ray Miller tagged Gordon with his powerful left hook and stopped him in the second round. It was the first of only three knockout defeats for Gordon in 122 bouts.
Gordon returned to the win column by outpointing Canadian champion Leo “Kid” Roy and top contenders Joe Glick, Basil Galiano, and Maurice Holtzer. In 1928 The Ring rated him the world’s number-four junior lightweight contender.
Al was past his prime when Philadelphia neighbor Harry Blitman flattened him in the first round in 1931. After losing three of his next five bouts, Al knew it was time to retire. He purchased a hack license and drove a cab for many years in Philadelphia.
After turning pro in 1927, Philadelphia’s Jack Gross went through 29 fights without a defeat. The southpaw’s first loss was to master boxer Tommy Loughran. He would lose to Loughran twice more, but each bout was hard-fought and closely contested. (Loughran accounted for three of Gross’s eight career losses.) Gross won ten of his next 11 fights, including victories over Emmett Rocco, Al Walker, and Murray Gitlitz. In May 1929 he was rated the number-nine heavyweight in the world by The Ring magazine. He was bounced from the ratings after being stopped by the formidable black heavyweight contender George Godfrey. In subsequent contests he defeated Roberto Roberti and won a 10-round decision over Godfrey. His efforts to reclaim a top-10 rating were stymied when he dropped a close 10-round decision to Ernie Schaaf and, in his next bout, was stopped by future heavyweight champion Primo Carnera in the seventh round at Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field. It was his second knockout loss to Carnera. Gross retired and moved to New Jersey, where he became a justice of the peace and a Bridgeton City magistrate.
Izzy was born Eddie Poplick on the Lower East Side of New York. As he explained it, “One night at a boxing show in the New York Athletic Club, they called out a name, Isaac Van Groven. He wasn’t there, so I went up. I figured he’d come later, and if he didn’t, I could handle myself . . . I’m Izzy Grove ever since.”35
His first pro fight, in 1926, resulted in a four-round draw with Marty Shapiro. Over the next two years Izzy fought 38 times. On October 6, 1928, he outpointed former welterweight contender Hilario Martinez. Seven weeks later he appeared in a 10-round co-feature at Madison Square Garden against future middleweight champion Vince Dundee. The more-experienced Dundee won a close but unanimous decision. They split two subsequent bouts, with Izzy winning the first and Dundee the rubber match.
In 1929 Izzy scored a major upset by defeating third-ranked middleweight contender Harry Ebbets. They fought twice more, with Ebbets winning both times. It was during this time that Izzy appeared on the cover of The Ring magazine and was briefly rated the number-eight welterweight in the world.
Other notable opponents included Georgie Levine, My Sullivan, Johnny Indrisano, Paul Pirrone, and future middleweight champion Gorilla Jones. All of Izzy’s losses were to fighters with winning records. He retired in 1932 after losing a 10-round decision to Eddie Whalen. After hanging up his gloves, Izzy became a theatrical booking agent in New York City.
In 1926 Willie Harmon was rated among the top five welterweights in the world. That same year he was offered a golden opportunity—a title fight with the recently crowned welterweight champion Pete Latzo. A year earlier Latzo had lost a 10-round decision to Harmon. At the weigh-in for the second bout, Latzo scaled 153 pounds—6 pounds over the welterweight limit. Needless to say, Harmon was upset. He was giving away almost 9 pounds, and the title would not be at stake. New Jersey boxing officials talked Harmon into going through with the bout by assuring him the title would still be up for grabs.
Latzo’s weight advantage may have been a factor in Harmon’s defeat. He was knocked out at 2:50 of the fifth round. The loss was one of only three knockouts suffered by Harmon in 94 bouts.
After a four-month layoff Willie returned to the ring with a vengeance. Hoping for another crack at the title, he went undefeated in his next 10 fights. The winning streak was broken on August 1, 1927, when he was outpointed in 10 rounds by future middleweight champion Vince Dundee.
Harmon then won seven of his next eight bouts, including decisions over Jack Zivic and Hilario Martinez. In his last fight, on March 3, 1929, he was knocked out by future welterweight champion Tommy Freeman. Even though he was only 28 years old and still a rated contender, Willie decided to call it a career.
There was rarely a dull moment when France’s Gustave Humery began trading blows with opponents. In 59 of 85 professional fights, either he or his opponent wound up on the canvas. Humery had 36 knockout victories to his credit, but suffered the same fate himself 18 times. Typical was his 1935 fight with England’s fine lightweight contender Harry Mizler. He floored the Englishman five times and was on the verge of stopping him when Mizler, in desperation, caught his charging antagonist with a swift leftright combination that staggered Humery and turned the fight in Mizler’s favor. In the eighth round Humery’s corner, realizing their man was out on his feet, threw in the towel.
On his good nights he was very good. Between 1927 and 1937 Humery won the featherweight and lightweight titles of France, in addition to winning the European lightweight title. His record is studded with the names of many world-class boxers, including the likes of Panama Al Brown, Johnny Cuthbert, Cleo Locatelli, Harry Corbett, Jackie “Kid” Berg, Harry Mizler, and Ernie Roderick. Even past his prime he continued to challenge the top men in his weight class. In the last fight of his 18-year career he was stopped by France’s legendary future middleweight champion, Marcel Cerdan, who at the time had only one loss in 64 pro fights.
Abie Israel was only 16 years old when he embarked on a pro career in 1929. Most of his fights took place in Seattle, Washington, where he remained a top attraction for over 10 years. The converted southpaw attempted to follow in the footsteps of previous Jewish featherweight champions Abe Attell, Kid Kaplan, and Benny Bass when he challenged the current champion Freddie Miller on July 11, 1933, at Seattle’s Civic Ice Arena. The scheduled 15-round bout was Seattle’s first world boxing championship.
Three months earlier Abie had outpointed Miller in a six-round non-title bout. The upset had catapulted Abie into the ratings and led to a return bout with Miller for the title. But the rematch produced a vastly different result. Miller dropped Abie twice en route to a fourth-round knockout.
Fourteen weeks later Abie met former featherweight champion Tommy Paul, who had lost the title to Miller 10 months earlier. In another case of biting off more than he could chew, Abie was TKO’d in the eighth round.
In subsequent bouts Abie drew with contender Pete DeGrasse, but lost decisions to Henry Woods, Al Spina, and former flyweight champ Midget Wolgast. The losses spelled finis to his title aspirations.
In 73 professional fights Ben Jeby never looked for an exit. He always took the fight to his opponent. Constantly moving forward, he outhustled and outfought bigger punchers and better boxers who were disconcerted by his endless energy, fighting spirit, and their inability to discourage or hurt him. This is not to imply that Jeby was easy to hit. No top fighter of his era could survive if he was easy to hit. Even on the attack Jeby always maintained a tight defensive posture.
Jeby turned pro in 1927 at the age of 19. Over the next two and a half years he lost only four of 25 fights. In his prime he outpointed former champion Joe Dundee and top middleweight contenders Harry Ebbets and Len Harvey. In September 1931 Ben managed a 10-round draw with the division’s number-one contender, Dave Shade, at the Queensboro Stadium in Long Island City. Madison Square Garden put them together for a rematch 24 days later. This time Shade won a 12-round decision. Jeby rebounded by finishing the year with four straight wins, including a decision over Jackie Aldare and a third-round knockout of veteran Eddie Whalen.
A setback occurred in 1932 when he was knocked out in the first round by unheralded Frank Battaglia, one of the hardest punchers in the middleweight division. Although terribly disappointed by the loss, Jeby did not become overly discouraged. With the dogged determination that was his hallmark as a fighter, he set about restoring his reputation, and returned to action four months later with a third-round knockout of tough club fighter Billy Kohut. After outpointing Roscoe Manning, he knocked out three opponents in a row, including contender Paul Pirrone, who was dropped seven times before the bout was stopped in the sixth round.
Jeby’s victory over Pirrone was a quarter-final match of a tournament sponsored by the New York State Athletic Commission, designed to find a successor to world middleweight champion Mickey Walker, who had relinquished the title several months earlier to campaign as a light heavyweight.
After defeating Chick Devlin in the semifinals, Jeby squared off against former foe Frank Battaglia for the vacant middleweight title. The fight presented a golden opportunity to not only win the crown, but also to gain revenge for his embarrassing loss to Battaglia.
Fighting as if his life depended on the outcome, Jeby completely dominated his former conqueror, winning almost every round until referee Jack Britton intervened and stopped the one-sided contest in the 12th round. It was only the second time in 58 bouts that Battaglia had been stopped.
On March 17, 1933, Jeby defended his title for the first time against his number-one contender, Vince Dundee. The bout generated enough interest to entice 11,000 fans into Madison Square Garden. Three years earlier Dundee had easily outpointed Jeby. This time the fight was far more competitive. At the end of 15 close rounds the bout was judged a draw. Four months later Jeby successfully defended his title against Young Terry in 15 rounds at Newark’s Dreamland Park.
Jeby put his title up for grabs for the third time when he faced the great southpaw Lou Brouillard at New York’s Polo Grounds. Brouillard, a former welterweight champion, held victories over two boxing legends, Mickey Walker and Jimmy McLarnin. He was an extremely strong and durable fighter. When these two baby bulls met, something had to give. In the seventh round Brouillard connected with a powerful left hook that landed flush on the jaw of the defending champion. Ten seconds later Jeby was an ex-champ.
Although he was only 25 years old, Jeby’s career began to falter after the loss of his title. In 1934 he lost five of eight contests, all to highly ranked fighters, including a 10-round non-title bout to old nemesis Vince Dundee, who four months earlier had relieved Lou Brouillard of his middleweight crown.
Jeby sat out 1935. He scored two minor victories the following year and then retired. A few years after his last bout, Jeby received a plumber’s license and worked in that field for most of his life.
GOLDEN GLOVES FOR A GOLDEN ERA
In 1927 the New York Daily News sponsored the first Golden Gloves tournaments for amateur boxers living in New York City’s five boroughs and surrounding suburbs. Any amateur boxer between the ages of 16 and 25 could enter. There were so many applications that first year organizers were forced to limit the number of entrants to 2,300. The Golden Gloves quickly became an annual institution in New York, and the largest citywide amateur boxing tournament in the nation. After six weeks of elimination matches across the city the championship matches were staged at Madison Square Garden on March 28, 1927. Nearly twenty-two thousand fans turned out for the finals, with another ten thousand turned away.
By 1930 over 200 other cities from coast to coast were hosting their own Golden Gloves tournaments, sponsored by a local newspaper or radio station. The amateur bouts provided experience and publicity for many future professionals. The various regional winners in each weight category would then meet to determine national champions. Inter-city competitions were also very popular, especially the New York vs. Chicago rivalry that continued into the early 1960s.
The Golden Gloves has two categories: “Sub-Novice” for amateurs with less than 11 bouts going into the tournament, and “Open Division” for boxers with more-extensive amateur experience. Flyweight Terry Roth, representing the Lower East Side’s Seward Gymnasium, became the first New York Golden Gloves champion in 1927 when he won the 112-pound flyweight open title. Roth turned pro that same year. Barney Ross of Chicago and Bob Olin of New York were the first two Golden Gloves winners from their respective cities to win a professional title.
Over the past 30 years Golden Gloves tournaments have mirrored the downsizing of the sport. Budgetary constraints and a general lack of interest have caused many cities to discontinue the tournaments. In New York only about 400 applicants sign up to enter the annual competition, including a new women’s division. The age limit was rescinded in the 1980s. Anyone over the age of 16 can enter the tournament if physically fit. (The names of the 32 Jewish New York Golden Gloves champions appear in the appendix.)
Andre Jessurun’s ancestors, Spanish Jews, left Spain for Portugal in the 15th century to escape the Inquisition. When Portugal initiated its own Inquisition against the Jews, the family fled to Holland, and eventually moved to Dutch Guiana (now Suriname), in South America. In 1919, when Andre was four years old, the family emigrated to New York City’s Lower East Side.
As an amateur boxer Andre made it to the finals of the New York City Golden Gloves welterweight open championship in 1934. That same year, in the Inter-City Golden Gloves tournament, he represented New York and won a second division title, also at welterweight.
In his first three years as a pro Andre fought 58 times, the majority against quality opposition. Jessurun had a busy and aggressive style that required him to be in top condition for every contest, since he almost always set a terrific pace. He was good enough to win two out of four bouts against the great welterweight contender, Cocoa Kid. Andre also defeated Nat Bor, the Jewish 1932 Olympic Games bronze medalist. At the time Bor had lost only two of 31 professional bouts.
Despite fighting the toughest welterweights of his era, Andre continued his amazing pace without letup, averaging 18 bouts a year from 1939 to 1941. In 1939 he lost a split decision to highly ranked Steve Mamakos. After winning two of his next three bouts, Andre was outpointed by number-one welterweight contender Holman Williams, one of the greatest boxers to never win a title.
Jessurun was an iron man, but even iron has a breaking point. To say that he was abused and mismanaged is an understatement. His handlers threw him in against every tough fighter, with little time off to rest and recover between bouts. Adding insult to injury, he later found out that his crooked manager had been shortchanging him for years.
Even in the twilight of his hectic career Andre was capable of defeating the likes of Ralph Zannelli, Steve Belloise, Ossie Harris, and Jerry Fiorello. Mixed in with those victories were losses to Izzy Jannazzo and Antonio Fernandez. In a return bout with Belloise he was KO’d in the seventh round.
Six months before he retired Andre lost a 10-round decision to old foe Cocoa Kid. In his last professional fight, on November 7, 1941, at the Chicago Stadium, he was stopped by Shorty Hogue.
Andre was married to the sister of featherweight contender Al Reid. After his loss to Hogue she insisted that he quit the ring and, fortunately, he listened. Andre was just two weeks shy of his 27th birthday, but he was already a well-worn veteran of 112 professional fights.
Although he volunteered to serve in the military during World War II, the many injuries he had sustained during his boxing career precluded that option, so he took a job as a welder at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. After the war Andre supported his wife and two children by working as a long-haul truck driver for Swift Line Transfer. He was still on the job when he suffered a fatal heart attack at the age of 61.
Louis “Kid” Kaplan was a rip-roaring, hellfor-leather, nonstop punching machine who defeated some of the greatest featherweights and lightweights of all time. In 1958 the sport’s preeminent boxing historian, Nat Fleischer of The Ring, named Kaplan the 10th-greatest featherweight boxer of the modern gloved era.
Kaplan was born in 1901 in Kiev, Russia. When he was five years old the family left Russia and settled in Meriden, Connecticut, where his father went into the junk business to support his wife and five children.
Young Louis saw no future for himself in the junk business. It was his intention to earn his living as a prizefighter. After a four-year apprenticeship in the amateur ranks, the 17-year-old turned pro in 1918. Four years later Kaplan had established his credentials as a top-rated featherweight contender, with victories over Danny Frush and Jimmy Goodrich, and several draw decisions with Babe Herman.
Kaplan’s unusual strength, whirlwind style, and seemingly endless reserves of stamina overwhelmed most of his opponents. His low KO percentage (28 KOs in 167 fights) was due in part to his style of fighting, which did not allow him to set down on his punches, and to the fact that from the very beginning of his storied career, he consistently fought the best fighters of his era.
In a 1925 tournament authorized by the New York State Athletic Commission to crown a new featherweight champion, Kaplan scored two knockouts and one decision before facing toprated Danny Kramer in the finals.
Kramer, an 8–5 favorite, was a hard-punching Philadelphia southpaw. He was also a Mob-managed fighter. Rumors abounded that gamblers had gotten to the judges, and the fix was in for Kramer to win a decision. Kaplan knew that if the rumors were true, the only way he was sure to win the title was by a knockout. But Kramer had only been stopped twice in 128 previous bouts.
The New York Times described the Kaplan vs. Kramer title bout as “one of the season’s hardest and most sensational battles . . . every minute of every round was crowded with exciting, spectacular action.” Kaplan fought as if possessed. Kramer desperately sought to slow the Kid’s furious assault by landing powerful body punches, but every time Kaplan was hit, he came back stronger and more determined. In the ninth round Kaplan landed a series of blows that had Kramer staggering around the ring. Many in the crowd of 10,000 spectators were screaming at the referee to stop the fight. Finally, Kramer’s corner took matters into their own hands and threw a towel into the ring, signifying defeat. Louis “Kid” Kaplan became the first boxer from the Nutmeg State to win a world boxing title.
On August 27, 1925, Kaplan made the first defense of his title against Babe Herman, a clever stylist whose record against the champion showed one victory and three draws. The fight, staged in Waterbury, Connecticut, attracted 20,000 spectators and gate receipts of $60,000, setting a new state record. The 15-rounder ended in yet another draw decision. It was later revealed that Kaplan had fractured his right big finger in the eighth round, and from then on used his right arm only defensively. Kaplan’s share of the gate was $19,685, while Herman received $9,892.
In a rematch four months later at Madison Square Garden, Kaplan outfought Herman, flooring him four times en route to winning a unanimous 15-round decision.
In 1927 Kaplan announced that he could no longer comfortably make the 126-pound featherweight limit, and intended to relinquish the championship to campaign in the lightweight division. Racketeers offered him a $50,000 bribe if he would postpone his move into the heavier division, and agree instead to lose the featherweight title to a fighter under their control. He was going to give up the title anyway, so why not throw the fight and reap a huge payoff? He didn’t even have to concern himself with making 126 pounds, he was told, as the scales would be fixed as well.
Unwilling to be tainted by even a hint of scandal, Kaplan refused the offer, reporting the bribe to the New York State Athletic Commission. “Sure, I could use the cash,” he said. “But every time I fight, my friends bet plenty on me, and what about their dough? I wouldn’t do a thing like that to them for a million bucks.”36
Over the next five years three successive champions—Sammy Mandell, Al Singer, and Tony Canzoneri—refused to give Kaplan a shot at the lightweight crown. Sportswriters began calling him “the uncrowned lightweight champ.”
While campaigning for a shot at the lightweight crown, Kaplan defeated Joe Glick, Phil McGraw, Johnny Jadick, Maurice Holtzer, Bat Battalino, Jack Portney, and Harry Dublinsky—all top-rated fighters. The great Jimmy McLarnin was one of only three fighters able to stop him in 164 professional fights. He never got a return with McLarnin, but in 1928 Kaplan avenged his KO loss to Billy Wallace with a 10-round decision at Madison Square Garden. Nearing the end of his career Kaplan was knocked out by lightweight contender Eddie Ran.
Shortly after he retired in 1933, Kaplan revealed that the vision in his right eye had been failing for several years, and that he could no longer see out of the damaged orb.
During the course of an extraordinary boxing career, Louis “Kid” Kaplan defeated eight men who were either past, present, or future world champions. He also whipped dozens of rated contenders. Despite the passage of time, Kid Kaplan’s star has not dimmed. He is still considered by knowledgeable boxing historians to be one of the greatest fighters of boxing’s Golden Age.
Boston’s Mike Kaplan broke into the welterweight “top ten” in 1939 by outpointing thirdranked Jimmy Leto. Even more impressive was his victory and draw against highly ranked Cocoa Kid. To show he was no flash in the pan, Mike continued his streak with decisions over Joe Ghnouly, Leonard Del Genio, and Eddie Brink, all tough, seasoned veterans.
In 1940 Kaplan lost a split 10-round decision to Fritzie Zivic. It was his only loss in 11 fights that year. Despite the loss he remained among the upper echelon of challengers, with decisions over Tommy Cross, Milt Aron, and future welterweight champion Freddie “Red” Cochrane.
On April 18, 1941, Kaplan fought a return bout with Zivic at the Boston Garden. Three months earlier Zivic had defeated Henry Armstrong for the welterweight championship of the world. Unfortunately for Kaplan, Zivic was not willing to risk his recently acquired title, so by agreement both men weighed 1 pound over the welterweight limit of 147 pounds. Zivic’s caution was justified. He lost a unanimous 10-round decision.
Kaplan then traveled to Philadelphia’s Shibe Park where he took on future lightweight champion, Bob Montgomery. After losing most of the early rounds to Kaplan, the great “Philadelphia Bobcat” staged a dramatic comeback and won a unanimous 10-round decision.
With his opportunity to fight for a title fading, Kaplan began to think of retirement. His title chances were further diminished when he was stopped by “California” Jackie Wilson in the third round. The bout was automatically halted when one of Kaplan’s corner men entered the ring after he had been knocked down twice. Other than a cut-eye TKO loss, this was only the second time in 53 bouts that Kaplan had been stopped. In the last bout of his career Kaplan won a 10-round unanimous decision over former lightweight champion Lew Jenkins.
In the 1950s Kaplan relocated to Florida and managed a hotel’s spa and health club in Miami Beach. He subsequently moved to Las Vegas, where he continued in the same business.
“KO” Phil Kaplan turned pro at the age of 19 without any amateur experience. His apprenticeship took five years in the professional ranks before he achieved contender status. Kaplan’s powerful left hook was his weapon of choice. He used it to score 34 knockouts. A four-fight series of hotly contested battles with “The Pride of Harlem,” Jack McVey, proved beyond doubt that he was a force to be reckoned with in the middleweight division. McVey, a great black welterweight and middleweight contender, is barely remembered today, but he was one of the best boxers of the 1920s.
Kaplan and McVey split their first two bouts. They met for a third time on March 27, 1926, at New York’s Commonwealth Sporting Club. The judges awarded the 12-round decision to Kaplan. His only loss in 11 fights that year was to the irrepressible future light-heavyweight champion, “Slapsie Maxie” Rosenbloom.
In 1928 Kaplan won his fourth encounter with Jack McVey via a disputed 10-round decision. The New York Times described a “savagely waged” contest.37 That same year Kaplan knocked out Abie Bain and Vince Forgione. In a tournament designed to certify the top challenger for Mickey Walker’s middleweight title, Kaplan lost a 10-round decision to Belgium contender Rene DeVos at Madison Square Garden. He returned to the Garden six weeks later and was disqualified for landing a low blow in the fourth round against highly rated Harry Ebbets.
After his loss to Ebbets, Kaplan seemed to lose interest. He had only six bouts in 1929 and 1930. The following year, competing as a light heavyweight, he struggled to outpoint tough journeyman Billy Kohut, and was held to a sixround draw by the veteran Billy Alger. Realizing he had passed his peak as a fighter, “KO” Phil wisely decided to retire at the age of 28.
Kaplan was stopped only once in 102 fights. The loss, in his fifth bout, was caused by an injury to his hand.
Jewish fight fans thought they had another light heavyweight champion in Herbie Katz, a hardsocking bruiser out of Brooklyn, New York. As an amateur Katz racked up an impressive 48-4 record, including 35 wins by KO. After turning pro in 1935, he won 27 of his first 31 bouts, including 13 by KO.
Herbie fought in both the middleweight and light-heavyweight divisions. In 1937 Katz defeated former middleweight contender Paul Pirrone and lost an eight-round decision to future light-heavyweight champion Gus Lesnevich at Madison Square Garden. In addition to Lesnevich, Katz fought four other past or future world champions—Melio Bettina, Solly Krieger, Joey Maxim, and Harold Johnson.
Although he rarely weighed more than 175 pounds, Katz had no qualms about venturing into the heavyweight division. In a bout with “Two Ton” Tony Galento in 1943, he gave away 48 pounds and was stopped in the first round. He retired four years later after a first-round KO loss to future light-heavyweight champion Harold Johnson.
Lew Kirsch turned pro in 1925, and over the next three years was undefeated in 33 fights. His first loss was a 10-round decision to highly rated lightweight contender Tommy Grogan. The following year he had only one bout and then remained idle for two years. His comeback, in 1932, resulted in seven consecutive wins, including an eight-round decision over fourth-ranked junior lightweight Joey Costa.
Kirsch was a good fighter, but one had to be much better than good to enter the pantheon of ring greats that stood at the pinnacle of the sport in the 1930s. On September 29, 1932, at the Queensboro Stadium in Long Island City, Kirsch finally faced his moment of truth in the person of Tony Canzoneri, one of the greatest pound-forpound fighters who ever lived.
Canzoneri, a veteran of 105 pro fights, was the lightweight champion of the world when he and Kirsch crossed gloves for their scheduled 10-round non-title bout. Nine weeks earlier Canzoneri had lost an upset split decision to junior welterweight champion Johnny Jadick. To some it was an indication that Canzoneri might be slowing down.
Kirsch’s management, in a classic case of wishful thinking, thought their boy just might pull off another upset. Unfortunately for Kirsch, reality intruded, and Canzoneri’s great talent overwhelmed him in three rounds. A hard left hook to the body started his downfall. As reported by the New York Times, “Kirsch remained on his feet throughout the battle but was reeling and groggy and holding Canzoneri tenaciously when the referee ended the proceedings.”
The young fighter was emotionally devastated by his first (and only) knockout loss, and decided to retire. Six and a half years later he returned to the ring and won seven of eight bouts against ordinary opposition before hanging up his gloves for the last time.
On January 2, 1925, at Madison Square Garden, Danny Kramer and Louis “Kid” Kaplan met to determine a new featherweight champion of the world. Kramer vs. Kaplan was one of 12 title bouts in which both boxers were Jewish.
Kramer was managed by Max “Boo Boo” Hoff, a “connected” (read: mobster) Philadelphia fight manager with gambling and bootleg interests. Rumors of a fix in favor of Kramer were rampant. Kaplan, aka “The Meridian Buzzsaw,” got wind of the rumors and decided not to leave matters up to the judges’ decision.
In a sensational seesaw battle Kramer was unable to slow down or halt Kaplan’s incessant attack. By the ninth round Kramer was in obvious distress. With ringsiders screaming at the referee to halt the bout, Kramer’s seconds, in the traditional gesture of surrender, threw a towel into the ring, automatically ending the bout and awarding the title to Kaplan
Kramer had 16 additional fights in 1925. He returned to the Garden just 49 days after his brutal fight with Kaplan to take on Canadian featherweight champion Leo “Kid” Roy in a 12-rounder. He knocked out Roy in the eighth round. His most satisfying victory that year was a first-round knockout of previous conqueror George “KO” Chaney.
Danny’s career began to wind down in 1927. The following year he lost to Joe Glick, King Tut, Santiago Zorilla, Red Chapman, and Leo “Kid” Roy. He sat out 1929 and then returned to the ring for one last fight in 1930 against journeyman Eddie O’Dowd. Kramer won via a fourthround KO and called it a career.
There was never a dull moment when Solly Krieger fought. He employed the type of aggressive bob-and-weave style made famous by former heavyweight champion Jack Dempsey. Like Dempsey, Solly’s best punch was an explosive left hook out of a weave. He was an excellent infighter and relentless body puncher.
As an amateur Krieger won the New York Golden Gloves welterweight championship (subnovice) in 1928. He turned pro that same year. By 1936 he was a seasoned middleweight with 53 pro fights under his belt, and was ready to make his move. Krieger started off the year in dynamic fashion by knocking out previous conquerors Young Terry and Jackie Aldare. Subsequent victories over Roscoe Manning, Frank Battaglia, and Oscar Rankins earned him a rating among the world’s top 10 middleweights.
To maintain his rating in the brutally competitive middleweight division, Solly had to compete against other top contenders. In 1937 he lost 10-round decisions to cagey ex-champion Teddy Yarosz and future champion Fred Apostoli. Undeterred, Krieger rebounded with one of his greatest victories by pounding out an impressive 12-round decision over future light-heavyweight champion Billy Conn.
On November 1, 1938, Solly challenged Al Hostak for the National Boxing Association middleweight title. Hostak, out of Seattle, Washington, was one of the division’s hardest punchers. He came into the fight having knocked out his last 16 opponents. But Solly was no softie in that department, either, having flattened 45 of 92 opponents. Nevertheless, Hostak was the 7–1 favorite.
Concentrating on a body attack, Krieger was ahead on the scorecards when he floored the champion in the 14th round. It was the first time Hostak had ever been knocked down in 56 pro fights. Despite the champion’s hometown advantage (the fight took place in Seattle’s Civic Auditorium), the judges awarded the title to Krieger on a split 15-round decision.
Krieger had struggled to make 160 pounds for Hostak. Knowing that his days as a middleweight were coming to an end, he moved up to the light-heavyweight division for a rematch with Billy Conn. But in the year since their last meeting Conn had improved and was nearing his peak as a great fighter. This time he was able to outpoint Krieger and win a unanimous 12-round decision.
Still not convinced, Krieger asked for a rubber match with “The Pittsburgh Kid.” On May 12, 1939, he lost a decisive 12-round decision to Conn at Madison Square Garden. Two months later Conn won the light-heavyweight championship.
Six weeks after his loss to Conn, Krieger defended his middleweight title in a return match with Al Hostak. But sweating down to the 160-pound weight limit had drained him. A newspaper account of the fight described Krieger as “a shadow of his former self in making weight for the fight.” He was knocked down four times before the referee, former heavyweight champion Jim Braddock, stopped the fight in the fourth round.
That fight should not have happened. Solly had outgrown the middleweight division and never fought at 160 pounds again. In his next fight, eight months later, he weighed 181½ pounds.
During his prime Solly Krieger was competitive with some of the best fighters to ever hold the middleweight title. One of those fighters, Freddie Steele, lost only 6 of 139 professional fights. In 1974 he told author and historian John D. McCallum that Solly was the toughest opponent he ever fought. “He could take a punch and could throw a punch,” said Steele. “Solly was very hard to nail as he fought out of a shell and in a crouch. Always dangerous, he was the one-punch-andout type of slugger and could turn the tables on you damn fast.”38
On March 22, 1935, Art Lasky was just one victory away from challenging Max Baer for the heavyweight championship of the world. All he had to do was defeat an over-the-hill fighter named James J. Braddock. The 3–1 odds favored Lasky.
Braddock, a former light-heavyweight contender, had been on the skids. He had come off the relief rolls a year earlier and was now in the midst of a startling comeback. Against Lasky the New Jersey Irishman fought an inspired fight. The New York Times described “a savage, grueling struggle that thrilled a crowd of 11,000 onlookers.” 39 Braddock’s right hand landed hard and often enough to take a close 15-round decision.
Three months later 10–1 underdog Jimmy Braddock pulled one of the biggest upsets in boxing history by outpointing Max Baer in 15 rounds to win the heavyweight championship of the world.
Braddock’s victory over Baer played out like a real-life fairy tale. The likable and unassuming former dockworker was an everyman whose hard road from relief to riches lifted the spirits of an entire Depression-weary nation. He was immortalized as boxing’s “Cinderella Man.”
For Art Lasky there was no glory or immortality. In the following months he was stopped by heavyweight contenders Ford Smith and Charley Retzlaff. He won three of his next five contests and then lost to journeyman Jack Roper on a seventh-round TKO (technical knockout).
Early in his career Art Lasky had looked like the real goods. From 1930 to 1934, the six-footfour, 197-pound heavyweight lost only four of 43 pro bouts. His knockouts of Tiger Jack Fox and Fred Lenhart tabbed Lasky as a fighter to watch. In 1934 he earned a top-10 rating after outpointing heavyweight contenders Lee Ramage and King Levinsky. A controversial loss to highly rated Steve Hamas and a draw with Levinsky kept him in the mix. But Lasky’s defeat by Braddock and several subsequent losses ended his title aspirations.
In 1936 he stopped Johnny Paychek in the fifth round. During the bout Lasky was thumbed in the eye and suffered a detached retina. Despite being blind in one eye he made a comeback in 1938 and had two draws in southern rings. The following year Lasky had one more fight and then retired.
A rugged heavyweight and crowd-pleasing performer, Roy Lazer has the distinction of being one of four Jewish opponents of the incomparable Joe Louis. On April 12, 1935, two years before he won the heavyweight title, the undefeated “Brown Bomber” stopped Lazer in the third round for his 14th knockout victory in 17 fights. Prior to that defeat Lazer had lost only two of 39 professional fights.
In a 10-year career spanning 67 bouts, Roy defeated quality heavyweights such as Babe Hunt, Ben Foord, Dutch Weimer, Leroy Haynes, and future champion Jersey Joe Walcott. He also fought competitively with contenders Patsy Perroni, Paul Cavalier, Buddy Knox, and “Two Ton” Tony Galento. In 1935 Roy traveled to England, Scotland, and Wales, where he won six of nine fights.
During World War II, Roy enlisted in the US Army and saw action in France, Belgium, and Germany. After recovering from wounds received in combat, he staged boxing bouts in rest camps for US servicemen. Roy was elected to the New Jersey Boxing Hall of Fame.
RAY ARCEL—TEACHER EXTRAORDINAIRE
The trainer with the longest career in boxing was Ray Arcel. The first world champion he trained, Abe Goldstein, captured the bantamweight crown in 1923. At age 24, Ray was a year younger than his fighter. He worked his last fight 59 years later, in 1982. In between those years Arcel built a stellar reputation as boxing’s most revered teacher-trainer, and one of its finest ambassadors.
Arcel trained nearly 2,000 fighters, including 22 world champions, but he is best known for his work with the great lightweight champion, Roberto Duran. In 1971 he and another great teacher, Freddie Brown, began training the young Panamanian. The two Jewish trainers had over eighty years of boxing experience between them. Under the dynamic duo’s tutelage Duran’s rise was nothing short of phenomenal. Within one year he captured the lightweight championship of the world. Arcel and Brown continued to train Duran for the next nine years.
Ray Arcel was born in Terre Haute, Indiana, on August 30, 1899. His father was a Russian- Jewish immigrant, and his mother was born in Brooklyn. Ray was born to boxing. He was a teenaged amateur boxer when he decided his true calling was to become a master trainer. Arcel spent almost every day at Grupp’s Gym on 116th Street, where he was fortunate to be mentored by Frank “Doc” Bagley and Dai Dollings. Bagley was a brilliant trainer and corner man. Dollings, a Welshman and former bare-knuckle fighter, was known for his ability to bring a fighter to the peak of condition.
“I used to follow them around like a little puppy dog,” said Arcel. “I watched them, I worked with them, and they let me take care of fighters. If they couldn’t come to the gym they’d ask me to look after the fighters, and tell me what to watch for. . . . In those years there was so much talent around that it rubbed off on anybody who wanted to watch and learn.”40
Arcel obviously learned his lessons well. Less than a year after his success with Abe Goldstein, he was training Charley Phil Rosenberg for a shot at the bantamweight crown. Ten weeks before the fight Rosenberg arrived at training camp 38 pounds overweight. Not only did Arcel train his fighter down to the 118-pound bantamweight limit in time, but Rosenberg was also able to maintain his strength and stamina throughout the 15 round bout. The boxing community took notice. By the end of the decade Ray Arcel’s special talents were in demand throughout the country. He couldn’t handle all the offers coming his way, so he decided to join forces with another well-known trainer, Whitey Bimstein, and share the work. Their partnership lasted a decade.
Beloved by his boxers and respected by his peers, Arcel’s persona was more like that of an articulate and refined college professor than a boxing trainer. “I never considered myself a trainer,” said Arcel. “I considered myself a teacher.”41 He was described by author A. J. Liebling in his book, The Sweet Science, as “severe and decisive, like a teacher in a Hebrew school.” The lessons he imparted went beyond boxing. At a 1988 dinner honoring Arcel, former middleweight champion Billy Soose spoke for all those who came in contact with the great teacher: “He not only taught me boxing, he taught me values.”
In the early 1950s Arcel branched out into promoting. He saw an opportunity to use the new medium of television to benefit boxing and renew the interest that seemed to be waning in postwar America. As always, his approach was to be honest in his dealings with fighters and managers, and to consider the positive impact his promotions would have on the sport. Ray’s weekly Saturday-night fights televised on the ABC network drew excellent ratings, but the criminal faction that was in competition with Ray wanted to control all of the television pie. In 1953, attempts were made to undermine Ray’s successful promotions through the use of intimidation and threats. Ray, however, refused to compromise his principles.
On September 19, 1953, Arcel was standing outside a Boston hotel, having just returned from Yom Kippur services, when someone approached him from behind and struck him over the head with a lead pipe. He suffered a concussion and spent 19 days in a hospital under police protection. The attack prompted a congressional investigation that eventually contributed to the breakup of the Mob-controlled International Boxing Club and the jailing of its criminal overlords. Unfortunately, the person who attacked Arcel was never identified.
In 1955, while mulling over an uncertain future in an uncertain sport, Arcel was offered an executive position in private industry by his longtime friend Harry Kessler, a highly successful entrepreneur who was also one of the country’s top referees. For the next seventeen years Ray forged a successful career as a purchasing agent for the Meehanite Metal Corporation. The opportunity to train Roberto Duran drew him back to boxing in 1971.
After he retired in 1982, Ray Arcel retained his “elder statesman” status. He was often called upon by reporters for quotes on a variety of topics pertaining to the sport.
While Ray Arcel loved boxing as few have, he was realistic in his assessment of the troubled sport. “Boxing can bring out the worst evil in people,” he told journalist Jerry Izenberg. “It can be cruel. Fighters sweat and bleed and usually die broke. Nobody cares. It shouldn’t be that way. The good ones are artists. The very art form is self-defense. But there are so many people that kill it for them.”42
The man who lived the entire length of boxing’s rise and decline in the twentieth century, and was so much a part of its history, died on March 6, 1994, at the age of 93.
Georgie Levine began his pro career at the age of 16. Almost immediately he was thrown in with more-experienced boxers, resulting in a number of losses. In 1922 he was rushed into a bout with perennial welterweight contender Dave Shade, and was stopped in the 14th round. Over the next three years Levine steadily improved. By 1925 he was holding his own with such top-tier fighters as Sergeant Sammy Baker, Panama Joe Gans, Paul Doyle, Jack McVey, and future welterweight champion Pete Latzo.
On July 9, 1926, Levine challenged Pete Latzo at New York’s Polo Grounds for the welterweight championship. It was Latzo’s second defense of the title he had won in May from Mickey Walker. The title fight ended abruptly in the fourth round after Levine landed a low blow and was disqualified.
Over the next few years Levine remained a viable contender with victories over Sylvan Bass, Izzy Grove, and Andy DiVodi. He also held the formidable Canada Lee to a draw. During one of those fights Levine suffered an eye injury. The damaged eye continued to deteriorate, and he had it secretly removed and replaced with a glass eye. Levine never told the boxing commission about the operation, and he was able to pass the rudimentary pre-fight physical exams given before each fight by memorizing the eye chart. He finally retired in 1929 after a 10-round points loss to future welterweight champion Tommy Freeman. Levine returned for one more fight three years later and never fought again.
During his career Levine fought 39 times in California. After hanging up his gloves he moved to Los Angeles permanently, and purchased two bars in Hollywood that he operated for the next 30 years.
Viewed from outside of the ring King Levinsky’s awkward and seemingly undisciplined style made him look easy to beat. But as many quality boxers found, to their chagrin, it was a mistake to underestimate him. The Kingfish wasn’t much of a boxer, but he was strong and durable, had good fighting instincts, and possessed a powerful right-hand wallop.
As the story goes, it was Harry Krakow’s idea to rename himself “Kingfish Levinsky” out of deference to his hero “Battling Levinsky,” the great Jewish light heavyweight of a generation earlier, and to combine it with the name of his favorite character in the popular Amos and Andy radio show. Still others say the name derived from his father’s job as a fish peddler in the local market. The press would variously refer to him as both “King” and “Kingfish.” Whatever the origin, the name fit Levinsky’s guileless and happy-go-lucky personality to a tee.
Levinsky was born and raised in Chicago’s Maxwell Street Jewish ghetto. Thick-bodied and strong, the five-foot-11, 175-pound teenager thought he might have a future in boxing. He turned pro in 1928, shortly before his 18th birthday. In the late 1920s Chicago was churning with boxing activity. Over a dozen fight clubs regularly showcased weekly or bimonthly shows. Over half of Levinsky’s 118 professional bouts took place in Chicago.
Given his comedic persona, the Kingfish would have been the perfect foil for a reality-based TV show. Early in his career his older sister, Lena Levy, thought her kid brother was being shortchanged by greedy managers and promoters. So the headstrong Lena fired his handlers and applied for a manager’s license. Lena explained her strategy: “What you have got is a big punch and I am going to find the bums for you to practice it on. Between us we will make a lot of dough and it will stay in the family.”43
Lena turned out to be a savvy bargainer for Levinsky’s services. His growing bank balance soon showed the results of her efforts. The only promise she did not live up to was providing him with “the bums” to practice on. The popular fighter had a loyal following, but no one was going to part with their Depression-era dollars to watch him flatten a bunch of tomato cans. The real money would only be possible by fighting the top contenders.
By 1932 the Kingfish had filled out to a solid 200 pounds. That year he stifled Jack Dempsey’s comeback attempt by clearly outpointing the 37-year-old ex-champ in a four-round exhibition bout that broke the Chicago Stadium attendance record. Five months later Levinsky lost a 20-round decision to future heavyweight champion Max Baer. It was his second loss to Baer. But victories over the tough Basque contender Paulino Uzcudun and former champions Tommy Loughran and Jack Sharkey kept him in the ratings.
Even though Lena was the manager, the chauvinistic boxing commissions would not allow her into the ring between rounds, so she would sit on the steps just beneath Levinsky’s corner and scream encouragement. From her perch the King’s big sister would jump up and down so often and with such energy that sportswriters dubbed her “Leapin’ Lena.”
On December 28, 1934, heavyweight champion Max Baer came to Chicago for a four-round exhibition with Levinsky. It was their third meeting. Both men were guaranteed a nice payday for what was intended to be a glorified sparring session.
Just before the bell rang to start the first round, the King’s sister whispered in his ear that if he made a good showing, it would improve his chances for a title shot with Baer. Levinsky misconstrued the advice. He thought that Lena meant he should go all out for a knockout. Lena was horrified to see her brother begin to slam home rights with the intention of separating Max from his senses. Baer was taken totally by surprise and was shaken up by several solid shots to his chin. The wild first round ended with a furious Max Baer glaring at Levinsky and vowing to flatten him in the next round.
At the bell to start the second round Baer charged across the ring. Two minutes later Levinsky was stretched out on the canvas, knocked out for the first time in his career. Upon regaining consciousness Levinsky would not believe that he had been knocked out until he saw the pictures in the next day’s newspapers.
Lena attempted to rebuild her brother’s confidence after the Baer fiasco. She arranged a series of bouts against mediocre opponents. The Kingfish won his next 12 outings, including 11 by knockout. The only fighter to last the distance was tough journeyman Babe Hunt.
Next up was an opponent everyone remembers but Levinsky wished he could forget. On August 7, 1935, he faced the undefeated heavyweight sensation, Joe Louis.
Louis was two years away from winning the heavyweight championship, but even at this early stage of his career he was being compared to Jack Dempsey in terms of his destructive hitting power. Lena was at first reluctant to take the match—until Louis’s promoter, Mike Jacobs, offered to pay her brother $30,000. “For that money we will fight anyone,” she answered. “Where’s the contract?”44
Louis was coming off his recent knockout victory over former heavyweight champion Max Baer. He seemed unstoppable. The Louis vs. Levinsky bout drew 40,000 fans to Chicago’s Comiskey Park, with another 100,000 people (mostly Louis supporters from Chicago’s poor black neighborhoods) gathered outside. The odds favored Louis, but many fans in the stadium thought Levinsky just might score an upset if he could connect with his powerful right cross.
The problem for Levinsky was that he began to believe Louis’s press notices (not that they weren’t true), and by fight time his confidence was wrecked. His seconds had to literally shove him out of the corner to begin the fight.
Levinsky threw only two punches and both missed their intended target. After sampling a few of “The Brown Bomber’s” bombs, Levinsky quickly went on the defensive in a futile attempt to avoid being knocked out. It didn’t help. Louis floored a passive Levinsky four times en route to a first-round knockout victory.
Lena was crushed by the humiliating defeat and urged her brother to retire. When he refused she sold his contract and washed her hands of the fight game. The Kingfish fought 22 more times but never appeared in a Chicago ring again.
Levinsky’s last important fight took place on January 5, 1937, at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. He lost a 10-round decision to former light-heavyweight champion “Slapsie Maxie” Rosenbloom.
Over the next two years Levinsky fought sporadically, losing six of seven fights. The once-durable Chicago fishmonger, who in 112 previous battles could only be knocked out by the murderous hitting duo of Max Baer and Joe Louis, was halted by four ordinary opponents. The $250,000 Levinsky earned in the ring was quickly depleted by bad investments and three failed marriages. His first wife was fan dancer Roxanne Carmine (née Rosie Glickman). In September 1934 Carmine/Glickman sought a divorce on grounds of cruelty. They had been married only five weeks.
In 1960 Levinsky relocated to Miami Beach, Florida. He supported himself by selling ties out of a suitcase. Whether you were just happy to help him out or were annoyed by his high-pressure sales technique (delivered as he wrapped a tie around a customer’s neck as if to perform a strangulation), it was difficult to refuse the Kingfish. Whenever Sinatra was in town he made sure to buy a caseload of the King’s ties.
Sadly, with age came the inevitable price to be paid for his many years in the ring. His speech became increasingly slurred and his memory turned fuzzy. But self-pity was not part of the King’s makeup. The good-natured ex-contender sold his ties with a smile and a wink, all the while telling stories about his colorful boxing career until he could no longer remember them.
Many of Nat Litfin’s early prizefights remain undocumented, the reason being he fought under various spellings of his name. But the 115 bouts that have been documented provide more than enough information to evaluate his career.
Nat fought five world champions. He defeated future featherweight champions Joey Archibald and Jackie Wilson, but lost decisions to Petey Scalzo and Willie Pep. The loss to Pep came three months before Pep won the featherweight championship.
On June 25, 1934, future bantamweight champion Georgie Pace knocked Litfin out in the first round. In 115 professional fights only one other opponent was able to stop him. Four years later Litfin scored the greatest victory of his career when he won a split decision over the reigning bantamweight champion, Sixto Escobar. Both fighters weighed over the 118-pound limit, so the title was not at stake, and Escobar retained his title.
After defeating Escobar The Ring magazine ranked Litfin the number-two bantamweight in the world. Over the next few years he stayed in the mix of challengers, but eventually lost his high ranking after being outpointed by Pep, Scalzo, Lulu Costantino, and Al Reid.
Before he turned pro in 1936, Toronto’s Sammy Luftspring established an outstanding amateur record. He was Canada’s best hope for a gold medal at the upcoming Olympics in Berlin, Germany. But instead of participating, Luftspring and his buddy, Norman “Baby” Yack, another outstanding Canadian Jewish boxer, decided to boycott the Nazi Olympics to protest Germany’s treatment of its Jewish population.
After their decision was made public, both Luftspring and Yack were invited to participate in an alternate Olympic Games planned for Barcelona, Spain. They were on their way to Barcelona when the event was abruptly canceled due to the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War. Luftspring returned to Canada and turned pro.
From 1936 to 1938 Sammy won 23 of 27 bouts, including the Canadian welterweight title. Two years later he was ranked among the top five welterweights in the world, and was on a fast track to a title bout with Henry Armstrong when disaster struck. In a tune-up bout against Steve Belloise at the Bronx Coliseum, he was unintentionally thumbed in the left eye. Despite fighting half blind for seven rounds against the murderous punching Belloise, Luftspring pressed the action and appeared to have won. But two of the three judges voted for Belloise.
The loss to Belloise was a serious setback for Luftspring, but worse news was in store for the 24-year-old fighter. Luftspring had suffered a detached retina and within weeks lost total vision in the eye. The injury was permanent. Sammy Luftspring’s career as a professional fighter was suddenly over.
The now ex-prizefighter needed to find a career that could support his wife and growing family. After a few false starts he eventually found his niche as a partner in a successful Toronto supper club. With Luftspring acting as its congenial host, “The Mercury Club” became a popular destination for locals, tourists, and visiting celebrities. The club operated successfully for over 20 years.
While running the club Sammy remained involved with the boxing world as a referee. It’s estimated that he officiated in more than 2,000 amateur and professional bouts. One bout in particular stands out. In 1970 he was the referee for a fight between Canadian welterweight champion Clyde Gray and a Panamanian fighter named Humberto Trottman. During the course of the fight Trottman became angered at what he thought was Luftspring’s biased officiating. Just before the start of the sixth round, he suddenly took a swing at Luftspring and connected with a right-hand punch to the ref’s jaw. Luftspring was stunned but did not go down. He responded instinctively, dodging the next punch thrown at him and then landing several punches of his own before they were quickly separated. The 54-year-old warrior had definitely won the impromptu match.45
Luftspring remained a very popular figure in his native Toronto for the rest of his life. In 1985 he was elected into the Canadian Boxing Hall of Fame.
Georgie Marks never avoided the tough ones. Among his 98 opponents were champions Abe Goldstein, Frankie Genaro, and Tony Canzoneri. Only six weeks after his second bout with Genaro, he dropped a 10-round decision to bantamweight contender Pete Sarmiento at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles.
Both Georgie and his brother Benny, a flyweight, were popular Los Angeles boxers during the 1920s. Georgie came closest to winning a title. In 1924, following victories over California Joe Lynch and Willie Darcey, he was matched with the great Filipino flyweight champion Pancho Villa for a 15-round title bout in Madison Square Garden. At the weigh-in on the day of the fight, Georgie came in several pounds over the 112-pound limit, so the title was not up for grabs. It didn’t matter, as Villa won a unanimous 15-round decision.
In 1926 Marks won the Pacific Coast Bantamweight Title via a 10-round decision over Chuck Hellman in Portland, Oregon. But his reign as West Coast champion was short-lived. One month later he was rematched with Hellman and lost a controversial 10-round decision. Following that defeat Marks retired.
Today’s pro fighters consider themselves busy if they fight four times in one year. In November 1930 Harry Mason fought four times in two weeks. Three of the fights went 15 rounds, the other, 12 rounds. He was back in the ring 22 days later for another 12-rounder. In all, Mason fought 19 times that year. During the course of his 17-year career, Harry fought over 200 bouts, 98 of which went 15 or 20 rounds.
Harry fought in both the lightweight and welterweight divisons. He was an accomplished violinist, ergo, his nickname, “The Little Fiddler.” In an odd sort of psychological warfare the colorful battler would sometimes play the violin before fights in an attempt to unsettle opponents. On occasion he would address the crowd and recite poetry from inside the ring.
Mason took great pride in his defensive skills, and boasted that no fighter was capable of disturbing his carefully parted hair. According to British boxing scribe Gilbert Odd, Mason was “an accomplished boxer, and when he chose could put on a brilliant exhibition of scientific ring craft.” Mason also had a reputation as a fashion plate and was always immaculately dressed.
Harry turned pro at 16. Four years later he won both the British and European lightweight championships. In 1924 he went to America to test his skills against the world’s top lightweights and welterweights. Harry made three trips to the States, winning five of 12 fights, including one draw. Two of the losses were to future welterweight champions Tommy Freeman and Joe Dundee.
Returning to England, Harry won the British welterweight title from Scotland’s Johnny Brown in 1925. He drew with future ring great Len Harvey in his first defense, then lost the crown in 1926 to Jack Hood on a highly disputed decision. All of the bouts were 20-rounders. Eight years later he recaptured the British title by defeating Len “Tiger” Smith.
Mason also held victories over such top-notch fighters as Harry “Kid” Brown, Herb Brodie, Jack Casey, Archie Sexton, Alf Mancini, and James “Red” Herring. He retired in 1937 after his 216th bout.
During the course of his long career Harry fought several times in South Africa and became a fan favorite. Following his retirement he accepted an offer to manage a hotel in South Africa, where he remained for the rest of his life.
Joey Medill’s clever boxing style emphasized speed and tactics over power—not unlike that of another Chicago boxing star, the great triple champion Barney Ross. Both men were managed by the crackerjack team of Sam Pian and Art Winch, premier handlers of Chicago’s best boxers.
In the late 1920s Medill defeated Mike Dundee, Tommy Grogan, Patsy Ruffalo, Billy Wallace, and Stanislaus Loayza to earn a number-four ranking in the junior welterweight division. He appeared headed for a title shot but was sidetracked after losing a 10-round decision to the former featherweight king, Louis “Kid” Kaplan. One month later he outpointed Billy Townsend at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles, but in a return match two weeks later Medill was knocked out in the first round. He took the next five months off and returned to action against junior welterweight contender Jack Brady. Floored five times, Medill could not answer the bell for the fifth round. The loss effectively ended Medill’s contender status. He had only two more fights before calling it a career.
Pictured here are the three fighting Miller brothers. Seated left to right are Abie, Benny, and Hymie Miller. Hymie was the 1928 National AAU Flyweight champion, and that same year represented the United States in the Amsterdam Olympics. In his first Olympic bout he appeared to be an easy winner over a fighter from Belgium. When the decision went to the other fighter, 16-year-old Hymie burst into tears. His teammates were so outraged by the injustice they requested permission to withdraw from the Games. The president of the United States Olympic Committee, Major-General Douglas MacArthur, denied their request, stating, “Americans never quit.”46
Hymie turned pro the following year and had 38 bouts before deciding to retire. Brother Abie was also a main bout fighter, but his pro career was undistinguished. Benny, the oldest of the three brothers, won several service championships in the mid-1920s while serving in the US Navy. He was the only brother to achieve contender status.
In 1931 Benny outpointed Bert Colima, Marty Sampson, Jack Rosenberg, and Jackie Aldare. Those victories earned him a number-nine rating among the top 10 middleweight contenders, according to The Ring magazine. Benny remained in the ratings for four months before losing to Chick Devlin and Frankie O’Brien.
Benny finished his career in the light-heavyweight division. He defeated Henry Firpo and KO Christner, but was stopped by Steve Hamas and Art Lasky.
Ray Miller’s powerful left hook accounted for one of the most shocking upsets of the 1920s. On November 30, 1928, at Detroit’s Olympia Stadium, Miller, a 5–1 underdog, became the only fighter to ever stop the great Jimmy McLarnin.
Over 15,000 fans witnessed the upset. McLarnin was tagged early and barely made it past the first round. Despite heroic efforts to turn the tide, he was simply unable to halt Ray’s aggressive two-fisted assault over the next six rounds. When Jimmy staggered back to his corner after the seventh round, Pop Foster, his trusted manager, signaled to the referee that he was stopping the fight.
Less than four months later McLarnin avenged the defeat by outpointing Miller at Madison Square Garden in front of a standing-room-only crowd of 22,000. The rematch did not come close to matching the fireworks of their first encounter. Both fighters appeared reluctant to lead and risk being nailed by a counterpunch. By the fifth round fans were booing the slow action. McLarnin responded with a body attack in the last four rounds that clinched his victory.
Miller’s potent left hook accounted for 33 knockout victories in 127 bouts. His KO percentage would have been higher but for the extraordinary caliber of opposition he faced. Nevertheless, many of the fighters he stopped were first-class boxers. The list includes Sid Terris, Johnny Jadick, Jimmy McNamara, and Solly Ritz—all taken out in the first round. Lope Tenorio, Tommy Grogan, Mike Sarko, and Georgie Day did not make it past the fourth round.
In other important bouts he won, lost, and drew with Billy Petrolle and dropped a 10-round decision to future champion Barney Ross. Ray was ranked among the world’s top 10 featherweight and lightweight contenders for 41 months by The Ring, but never received a title shot. He was stopped just once, in a preliminary bout during his first year as a pro.
After he retired Ray became a sales rep for a major liquor distributor. In the 1950s he became a licensed referee in New York State and officiated in many important bouts.
Before turning pro in 1933 Harry Mizler established a record as one of England’s greatest amateur boxers. He won a gold medal in the bantamweight division at the inaugural British Empire Games in 1930, and then won national championships at lightweight in 1932 and 1933. He also represented Great Britain in the 1932 Los Angeles Olympic Games. He was outpointed in his first Olympic bout by American Nat Bor, who also happened to be Jewish.
Harry’s two brothers, Judah and Morris, were also boxers. Judah, the oldest, did not turn pro. Morris established a fine pro record at the local clubs, but never achieved contender status. All three brothers helped their parents run a kosher fish stall in London’s East End neighborhood. That meant getting up at 5 a.m. and pushing the barrow to the fish market and back. The chore doubled as roadwork for Harry.
Harry made his pro debut at London’s famous Blackfriars Arena in 1933. Less than five months later he won the British Lightweight title via a 15-round decision over Johnny Cuthbert. It was only his 10th professional bout. The new champion successfully defended his title in August against Billy Quinlan in Wales, but lost it three months later when he was stopped in the 10th round by the vastly more experienced Jackie “Kid” Berg. The following year Mizler went undefeated in eight fights, including a dramatic come-from-behind eighth-round TKO of France’s Gustave Humery.
In 1937 Harry defeated American contender Al Roth but lost a 10-round decision to NBA featherweight champion Petey Sarron. In a return bout five months later, Sarron was disqualified in the first round for landing a low blow. As both fighters weighed over the 125-pound featherweight limit, Sarron’s title was not at stake.
Mizler always wore a Star of David and the Union Jack on his boxing shorts. His pleasant personality and classy boxing style would have made him very popular in America, but the only time he fought outside of the British Isles was for his second fight with Sarron, which took place in Johannesburg, South Africa.
During World War II Harry joined the Royal Air Force and served for the duration. After the war he became a successful garment-center entrepreneur.
With his pipestem arms and skinny frame, Young Montreal’s physique belied a hidden strength and durability not visible to the naked eye. He was stopped only twice in 134 documented bouts. Both losses occurred when he was well past his prime.
Young Montreal remained a viable bantamweight contender for nearly a decade. He fought nine world champions a total of 17 times. Unfortunately, only one of those fights was for a title. On February 28, 1921, he fought a 10-round no-decision bout with bantamweight champion Joe Lynch. Newspapers reported Lynch edging Montreal in a very close fight. In a rematch two months later (non-title), newspapers named Montreal the winner.
Sandwiched in between those contests was a 10-round no-decision bout with highly regarded Joe Burman. At least one paper named Montreal the winner. That same year he twice outpointed number-one contender Pete Herman in officially scored 10-round bouts. Two months after their second fight, Herman outpointed Lynch to win the bantamweight championship. Both Lynch and Herman are rated among the greatest bantamweight champions. For a time Montreal was called “the uncrowned bantamweight champion.”
In the late 1920s, nearing the end of his illustrious career, Montreal won decisions over future champion Bushy Graham and highly ranked contender Johnny Farr. On April 10, 1929, in the last important win of his career, Montreal decisioned former champion Bud Taylor. The victory was sweet revenge, as Taylor had knocked him out two years earlier.
They didn’t come much tougher than Young Montreal. He once insisted on finishing a bout despite having broken his ankle. Other than his loss to Taylor, the only other knockout he suffered was in his very last fight.
Yale Okun put on his first pair of boxing gloves at the Educational Alliance, the legendary settlement house located in the heart of New York City’s Lower East Side. In 1926, three years after turning pro, Yale lost two consecutive 10-round decisions to master boxer (and future lightheavyweight champion) Tommy Loughran. On the plus side, Yale outboxed contenders Bob Lawson, Matt Adgie, and Martin Burke, and had draw decisions with Allentown Joe Gans, Eddie Huffman, and Joe Sekyra.
From 1928 to 1932 Yale floated in and out of The Ring magazine’s top-10 light-heavyweight ratings. Victories over Harry Smith, Tiger Jack Payne, Tony Cancela, Corn Griffin, and future heavyweight champion Jim Braddock were interspersed with losses to Smith, Joe Knight, Leo Lomski, Joe Manley, and Lee Ramage—all quality boxers.
On December 12, 1929, Okun fought number-one light-heavyweight contender “Slapsie Maxie” Rosenbloom in a 12-round bout at Madison Square Garden. Four years earlier, when both were just starting out, they had fought a six-round draw. This time the irrepressible Maxie was able to slap, dodge, and duck his way to a unanimous decision. Six months later Rosenbloom won the light-heavyweight championship.
Two of Okun’s most important bouts were against future light-heavyweight champion John Henry Lewis. In 1932 Okun dropped a 10-round decision to the brilliant prodigy. In a return bout two years later, he was stopped by Lewis in the third round. Lewis, a forgotten ring great, won the championship the following year.
After Okun retired in 1935, he invested $75,000 of his hard-earned ring wages in a golf course. Within a few years the golf course was bankrupt, and so was he. For the next several decades Yale worked as a waiter in New York City before moving to Florida in the 1970s. The money he earned as a waiter may not have matched his ring earnings, but it provided for his family and enabled him to pay for his son’s dental school education.
In 1928 Bob Olin, another of the Lower East Side’s Educational Alliance alumni, won the New York Golden Gloves light-heavyweight championship. He turned pro that same year and won 17 of his first 18 fights, including 13 by knockout.
As his career progressed Olin developed into a seasoned boxer, but he was not wholly consistent when facing top-tier competition. He won two of four bouts against top light-heavyweight contender Al Gainer, but then dropped back-to-back decisions to former welterweight champion Lou Brouillard. He rebounded with solid wins against Charley Massera, “Unknown” Winston, and Bob Godwin.
On November 16, 1934, at Madison Square Garden, Olin challenged “Slapsie Maxie” Rosenbloom for his light-heavyweight title. After 15 lackluster rounds Olin was awarded the decision. Rosenbloom had appeared totally disinterested. Rumors of a fix were rampant but never proven.
Eleven months later Olin lost the championship to his former conqueror, the great John Henry Lewis. Olin tried with all his might to hold on to his title, but simply could not match the speed and skill of Lewis. Battered unmercifully for the better part of 15 rounds, Olin stubbornly refused to quit. Reporting on the fight for the St. Louis Post Dispatch, sports editor Ed Wray wrote the following: “Never in my forty years of covering fights have I seen a man take the kind of punishment Bob Olin took from Lewis.”47 Olin may not have been a great champion, but he certainly had the heart of one.
On a trip to London in 1936, Olin lost a controversial decision to heavyweight contender Tommy Farr, despite knocking down the rockjawed Welshman twice. The following year Olin was knocked out by the great Tiger Jack Fox, but in his next bout won a 10-round decision over heavyweight Gunnar Barlund. Three months later Olin tried to win the title back from John Henry Lewis and was knocked down three times before the bout was stopped in the eighth round.
Olin retired in 1939 and never attempted a comeback. After service in the Coast Guard during World War II, he worked for a Wall Street Brokerage firm and also owned a successful restaurant in Manhattan. Bob Olin succumbed to a fatal heart attack in 1956 at the age of 48.
One of the most heroic and tragic stories is that of Victor Perez, who fought under the nom de box of “Young Perez.” As a child Victor dreamed of someday winning a world championship and becoming rich and famous. His older brother Benjamin “Kid” Perez had won the flyweight championship of North Africa in 1928, but could not make the leap to contender status. Victor knew his dreams would never have a chance to be realized unless he left his home in French Tunisia and traveled to Paris. So after clearing out the local flyweight competition, the 17-year-old sailed for Paris in the winter of 1928.
Perez’s first bout in the City of Lights resulted in an eight-round draw with Lucien Beauvais. It was an auspicious beginning. Over the next two years, fighting almost exclusively in Paris, Victor lost only two out of 26 professional fights. His aggressive style won him a large following among Parisian fight fans, and he was quickly elevated to main-bout status.
On June 4, 1931, in his 54th professional bout, the 21-year-old boxer outpointed Valentin Angelmann in 15 rounds to win the French flyweight title. Four months and two fights later, at the Palais des Sports in Paris, Victor realized his dream of winning a world title when he knocked out America’s Frankie Genaro in the second round, thus becoming the youngest French citizen ever to win a world boxing title.
Victor made the most of his fame. He was the toast of Paris and reveled in the perks that came with the crown. He loved to party, and was often seen in the company of the famous French movie actress Mireille Balin.
But the handsome young champion did not allow his busy social calendar to interfere with his active boxing schedule. After winning the title Perez fought 18 times over the next 12 months. Even though he lost two of the fights, they were contested above the 112-pound flyweight limit, so his title was not at risk.
One year and five days after winning the flyweight crown, England’s Jackie Brown dethroned Young Perez via a 13th-round technical knockout at King’s Hall in Manchester. Perez did not seek a rematch, as he was finding it difficult to make the 112-pound flyweight limit. Henceforth, he would campaign for a shot at the bantamweight crown (maximum weight 118 pounds).
On February 19, 1934, Perez challenged the great bantamweight champion Panama Al Brown. At five-foot-11, Brown was the tallest fighter to ever hold the bantamweight crown. He was a superb boxer and powerful puncher who knew how to make the most of his unusual height and reach. Brown was as thin as a string bean, but very strong and durable. In 162 professional fights he was never knocked out.
As the referee called both men to the center of the ring for pre-fight instructions, the five-foot-one challenger’s head was level with Brown’s chest.
Victor never stopped trying, but he could not overcome Brown’s huge physical advantages and ring craft. At the end of 15 hard-fought rounds Brown was still the bantamweight champion of the world.
Eight months after their first meeting Brown granted Victor another shot at his title. The bout ended unsatisfactorily when Perez was counted out after claiming he had been fouled in the 10th round and refused to continue fighting.
Perez vowed to stay in Paris and continue his quest for another shot at the title, but a far bigger battle was looming on the horizon. On September 1, 1939, World War II began with Germany’s invasion of Poland. In May 1940, Paris fell to the Germans. Caught up in events beyond his control, Victor found himself trapped behind enemy lines.
In 1943 he was arrested by the Milice Française, a collaborationist French paramilitary force created by the Vichy regime that specialized in rounding up Jews and members of the French Resistance. In October Perez was deported with 1,000 other Jews on “Transport 60” from the French concentration camp at Drancy to the Auschwitz death camp in Poland. One year later only 31 of the original 1,000 men, women, and children were still alive.
Perez was placed in Auschwitz III/Monowitz, a sub-camp that was used to supply slave labor for the I. G. Farben synthetic rubber factory.48 It was a temporary reprieve. The prisoners were literally worked to death. Those who became too weak to continue the backbreaking labor were either returned to Auschwitz II to be gassed or were shot on the spot. New prisoners arrived daily to take their places.
The sadistic commandant of the slave labor camp, upon learning that a former world-champion boxer was among the prisoners, had Victor removed from the forced-labor detail. Victor was told he was going to box for the amusement of the camp’s SS officers and staff, who enjoyed betting on the outcome of the fights.
Among the other prisoners ordered to fight were a group of Jewish men who had also been amateur or professional boxers before the war, including the former Greek champions Salamo Arouch and Jack Razon. (The film Triumph of the Spirit was based on their true stories.) Another prisoner-boxer was former bantamweight contender Kid Francis. Perez and Francis had fought each other 10 years earlier in Paris. Kid Francis was murdered in Auschwitz several months before Perez’s arrival.
The fights were held twice a week. The prisoner-boxers were given upgraded sleeping quarters and one day off from their work. Each night they received an extra bowl of soup. They needed whatever strength their meager extra rations could provide in the hopes of prolonging their survival for as long as possible.
In his first fight Perez knocked out a Jewish heavyweight who was a foot taller and outweighed him by 50 pounds. Over the next 15 months he fought twice a week and reportedly won 140 consecutive bouts. During this time he was assigned to work in the kitchen of Auschwitz III. Victor used his access to the food supply to regularly steal a 50-liter container of soup and distribute it to the starving inmates.
Israeli journalist Noah Klieger, who was a prisoner and boxer at Auschwitz, remembers that Victor’s friends warned him that he would be hanged if discovered. He never forgot the courageous fighter’s response: “Human beings were created in order to help others. We live in order to help!”49
Klieger also remembered that Perez attempted to escape from Auschwitz but was captured and tortured for two weeks in the infamous “standing room,” a tiny cell with no space to lie down, in which inmates were made to spend the night while still working as slaves during the day.
With the Soviet Army rapidly approaching, the Nazis abandoned Auschwitz in January 1945. They took with them 57,000 prisoners who were barely alive and forced them to march westward toward Germany in freezing temperatures. Fewer than 20,000 would survive the ordeal. Victor Perez was not among them.
As related in Yossi Katz’s book, A Voice Called: Stories of Jewish Heroism, Perez died according to his credo, “Human beings were created in order to help others.” Katz interviewed Noah Klieger, who survived the death march and gave the following eyewitness account:
On January 21, 1945, the fourth day of the death march, the starving, exhausted and freezing Jewish prisoners were stopped outside the Gleiwitz concentration camp near the Czech border. Victor had snuck away from the group and entered the abandoned German camp and found a large sack of bread in the kitchen. Perez put the sack on his shoulders and rushed back to feed his friends. As he approached the group and stood in front of a small ditch, a German guard pointed his machine gun at Perez and ordered him to halt. Victor tried to explain to the guard, “These are my friends and they are starving, I’m just bringing them some bread,” but the Nazi insisted Perez not move. He ignored the SS guard and leaped across the ditch, hoping to give the sack of bread to his starving friends, but the Nazi aimed his machine gun at Perez and fired several shots, killing the former champion instantly.50
In 2013 a French biographical film based on the life story of Young Perez was released. Perez is portrayed by Brahim Asloum, a French boxer who won a gold medal (light-flyweight division) in the 2000 Olympics.
THE MACCABIAH GAMES
The Maccabiah Games, otherwise known as “the Jewish Olympics,” officially began in 1932 in Tel Aviv, with 400 athletes competing. The second Maccabiah took place in 1935 and included 1,350 Jewish athletes from 28 countries, including the United States. Despite Nazi Germany’s order warning them not to attend, a delegation of 134 Jews from Germany traveled to Tel Aviv and participated in the games. The contingent refused to fly the German flag during the opening ceremonies.
Many of the athletes from Germany and other European countries who competed in the 1935 games chose to remain in Israel. Ben Bril, an Olympic boxer (1928) and eight-time Dutch national amateur champion, who won a gold medal at the Maccabiah, returned to Holland. The following year he boycotted the 1936 Munich games. During the German occupation of the Netherlands he was deported to Germany and imprisoned in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp. Ben Bril and a younger brother survived, but four of his brothers and a sister did not. Bril died in 2003 at the age of ninety-one.
The Maccabiah was reborn with the independent State of Israel. In 1950, 19 countries sent a total of 800 hundred athletes to Israel. The opening parade and track and field events were held in the new 50,000-spectator stadium in Ramat Gan, a suburb of Tel Aviv. In an emotional opening ceremony Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion told the competitors, “Existence in our ancestral home requires physical might no less than intellectual excellence.”51
Over the past 60 years thousands of Jewish athletes, including dozens of Olympic Games medalists and world record holders, have competed in the quadrennial Maccabiah Games. The tournament is organized in full cooperation with the International Sports Federations. It is the third-largest international sporting event in the world after the Olympics Games and FIFA World Soccer Cup. Competition is open to Israeli citizens regardless of religion and to Jewish athletes from all over the world. The 2009 Games were the first to be televised beyond Israel’s borders. In 2013 the 19th Maccabiah Games hosted 7,500 athletes competing in 34 events, including chess. Boxing, a staple in previous games, was not included.
Bill Poland attended high school in the Bronx where he was an all-around athlete, winning letters in football and swimming. He started boxing to keep in condition during the off-season, and quickly realized he had a natural aptitude for the sport. Following a successful amateur career, Bill turned pro in 1937. The six-foot-two, 200- pound heavyweight could box and punch. Four years after his pro debut Poland’s record showed only two defeats in 36 fights, including 22 wins by knockout. Following impressive KOs over Harry Bobo and Eddie Blunt, it appeared he was headed for a top-10 contender slot, but he was sidetracked when stopped by Bobo in the sixth round of their rematch. A subsequent eight-round draw with future contender Joe Baksi was followed by a ninth-round KO at the hands of highly rated Lee Savold.
After hanging up his gloves in 1947, Poland entered the nightclub business in New Jersey, but eventually moved to Las Vegas, where he was employed by the Riviera Hotel.
In its heyday as a boxing metropolis, the city of Baltimore produced several world-class Jewish boxers. One of the best was Russian-born southpaw Jack Portney.
After compiling a 29–1 amateur record, Portney turned pro in 1927. Three years later he earned a top-10 rating in the lightweight division by outpointing former world champion Louis “Kid” Kaplan. Portney eventually grew into a welterweight and achieved a number-three rating in that division after defeating Andy Divodi, Wesley Ramey, Herb Bishop, and former champions Benny Bass and Johnny Jadick.
Frustrated when he couldn’t land a title shot in 1934, Portney wrote to a promoter in Australia and received an invitation. He fought three 15-round bouts within 33 days in Australia, including a win over former junior lightweight champion Tod Morgan.
Portney continued to fight past his prime. In 1936 he outpointed Phil Furr, but lost two close decisions to the Cocoa Kid, a highly ranked welterweight contender. The following year he was stopped by Cocoa in the 12th round of a scheduled 15-rounder. Portney won five of his next six fights, but then lost a 10-round decision to future ring great Holman Williams.
Portney finally hung up his gloves in 1938, but kept his hand in the game for a number of years by promoting boxing shows at the Baltimore Garden Athletic Club. He also owned and operated pool halls in Baltimore before opening Jack Portney Sporting Goods, a retail establishment. In the 1950s he expanded to a successful wholesale business that specialized in the sale of billiard and bowling supplies.
Before he turned pro in 1915, Augie Ratner won both the New York State and National AAU 145-pound titles. In 1917 he was drafted into the US Army during World War I. Augie took part in the Meuse-Argonne Offensive in the fall of 1918. The 47-day battle was the largest in United States military history. It involved 1.2 million American soldiers and brought the war to a close.
During his 10-year boxing career Ratner fought seven men who at one time or another held a world title. On March 17, 1920, he challenged middleweight champion Mike O’Dowd in O’Dowd’s hometown of St. Paul, Minnesota. As the fight was “no decision,” the only way Ratner could win the title was by a knockout. It was a tall order. Augie was not a great puncher, and the ironchinned O’Dowd had never been knocked out.
The bout went the full 10 rounds. The Chicago Tribune scored the fight for O’Dowd, explaining that Ratner was on the defensive until the last two rounds.
In a follow-up bout Ratner won a newspaper decision over future middleweight champion Bryan Downey, but then lost two officially scored 15-round decisions to Downey. In spite of the setbacks Augie maintained his contender status with a 15-round decision over former welterweight kingpin Ted “Kid” Lewis.
Ratner consistently took on the cream of the middleweight division. Opponents included Mike Gibbons, Dave Rosenberg, Jock Malone, Dave Shade, Lou Bogash, and Frankie Schoell. Stepping up in weight, he also crossed gloves with two future light-heavyweight champions, getting an eight-round draw with Paul Berlanbach and a one-round KO over Jack Delaney. In a rematch one year later he lost a 12-round decision to Delaney.
On January 1, 1925, Ratner challenged the peerless middleweight champion Harry Greb in a non-title bout. They had fought a 20-round bout seven years earlier, with Greb taking the decision. This time the relentless “Pittsburgh Windmill” gave Ratner one of the worst beatings of his career, but was unable to stop him. Ratner kept his record intact of never having been KO’d or stopped in over 100 professional fights. That enviable record was shattered four months later, when future light-heavyweight champion Jimmy Slattery knocked him out in the second round to become the first and only fighter to stop him. Augie had only five more fights before hanging up his gloves in 1926.
In an interview that appeared in the February 1967 issue of Boxing Illustrated, Ratner was asked who he considered his toughest opponent. He stated that it was a toss-up between Harry Greb and Ted “Kid” Lewis. “Both were great,” said Ratner. “Ted ‘Kid’ Lewis could box and hit. Greb was not as other men. He started his fights at a fast pace and accelerated it as the fight wore on. . . . He was blazingly fast, throwing punches from every angle. You had to be in perfect conditon.”52 Ratner rated Mike Gibbons the best boxer he ever fought.
Al Reid was a tough and tenacious gamecock of a fighter. The Bronxite threw a hailstorm of leather, rarely pausing long enough to set himself for a solid punch, which accounts for his low KO percentage.
In 1938, four years after turning pro, Al Reid was ranked the number-three featherweight in the world by The Ring. Yet despite impressive victories over the likes of Maxie Shapiro, Sal Bartolo, Bernie Friedkin, Joey Fontana, Nat Litfin, and Mickey Farber, he never received a title shot. Al fought seven men who at one time or another held a world title. He defeated Bartolo, fought two draws with Mike Belloise, but lost to Kid Chocolate, Leo Rodak, Petey Scalzo, Chalky Wright, and Beau Jack. Only Beau and Chalky were able to stop him. His two other losses inside the distance were the result of cuts over his left eye.
Al was not the most carefully managed boxer. Over the course of his 100-bout career he was thrown in with everybody and given little time off between bouts. The constant activity against tough competition eventually burned him out, and his career was over in just six years.
After hanging up his gloves in 1941, Al enlisted in the US Coast Guard a few weeks before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor and served for the duration of World War II.
After the war Al was employed as a shipping foreman for a plastics manufacturer in Long Island City. He also worked as a licensed boxing judge. For many years Al was active with the New York veteran boxers’ association in that organization’s efforts to help indigent former prizefighters.
In 1902 Rachel Green was six months pregnant with her ninth child when her husband, a laborer in a garment factory, was accidentally crushed to death in an elevator shaft. The distraught widow tried to support her brood by peddling items from a pushcart, but it was an impossible task. In order to cope she placed three of her sons in Manhattan’s Hebrew Orphan Asylum. But Charley, her infant son, was too young for the orphanage, so during the day she placed him in a basin under her pushcart where she could keep an eye on him while trying to eke out a living.
When Charley was about five years old his mother decided to move her brood from the Lower East Side to Harlem, then a mixed ethnic neighborhood that also included a significant Jewish population.
Charley grew up tough—and hungry. “I was a rough kid in the streets, like all kids 50 years back were rough kids,” he recalls. “I worked when I could. I went out and took other things when I couldn’t, that’s all. I mean, it was nothing for me to go into a grocery store and steal a dozen rolls or something because we were hungry. Nine kids and nobody to help us. We had a very tough bringing up.”53
In 1921 Charley was earning $6 a week working as an errand boy for a millinery shop when a fellow employee, a part-time boxer named Phil Rosenberg, had to pull out of a scheduled match. After learning his coworker would be giving up $15 if he failed to show, Charley offered to take his place using Phil’s boxing license. The rest, as they say, is history. Charley launched his professional boxing career as “Charley Phil Rosenberg.” The name had a nice ring to it.
A year later he was matched with the Olympic flyweight champion Frankie Genaro at the Commonwealth Sporting Club in New York City. Although he lost the 12-round decision, Rosenberg gave Genaro a tough fight. This was no small accomplishment, as Genaro was a master boxer and would eventually win the world flyweight title.
Rosenberg followed up his loss to Genaro with impressive victories over hot prospects Sammy Butts and Henny Catena. Another 12-round barnburner with Genaro five months after their first fight returned the same result, but Rosenberg continued to show improvement.
In 1923 Rosenberg earned in excess of $20,000 for a total of 14 bouts. He was earning more money than he could have dreamed of, but what he wanted more than anything was a shot at the title. That opportunity came two years later. On March 20, 1925, in Madison Square Garden, Charley Phil met bantamweight champion Eddie “Cannonball” Martin (Edward Martino).
The fight crowd knew that Rosenberg was having trouble making the 118-pound limit. But Charley Phil had a secret weapon in master trainer Ray Arcel. Under Arcel’s supervision Rosenberg lost 37 pounds in two months. Still, oddsmakers doubted he could maintain his strength in the later rounds. “Cannonball” entered the ring a 4–1 favorite to retain his crown.
Arcel did his job well. Charley Phil was in superb condition and took the fight to the champion. He even appeared to get stronger as the bout progressed. The unanimous 15-round decision went to Rosenberg.
Over the next two years Rosenberg fought 19 times (mostly in non-title bouts) in various locales outside of New York. “I’ll tell you this, I was a bad boy when I was boxing,” Charley Phil told author Peter Heller in an interview. “Every town I went to I started trouble in. I went somewhere in Ohio, Toledo or somewhere, and some fellow kept hollering, ‘Kill the Jew bastard,’ and I turned around, took a mouthful of water and blood, and I spit it right in his face. It was the mayor of Toledo!”54
In 1927 Rosenberg was stripped of his title because he could not make weight for a title defense against Bushy Graham (Angelo Geraci). At the weigh-in on the day of the fight Rosenberg was four and a half pounds over the bantamweight limit of 118 pounds. Nevertheless, the New York State Athletic Commission decided not to cancel the fight that evening. Commissioner William Muldoon ordered that if Graham won, he would be recognized as world champion. If Rosenberg won, the title would be declared vacant.
Charley won the 15-round decision but left the ring an ex-champion. There was more bad news. The commission had uncovered information of a secret agreement between the fighters not to make weight. Both Graham and Rosenberg were suspended for a year. Rosenberg always maintained that no secret agreement had ever existed.
Tired of the training grind and the shenanigans of his crooked manager, Charley fought only four more times before announcing his retirement in 1929.
In the late 1930s Charley became an insurance salesman, remaining in that field for the next 30 years.
New York’s Dave Rosenberg entered the pro ranks with an outstanding pedigree. In 1919 he won both the New York State and National AAU amateur welterweight titles.
On November 25, 1921, only two years after turning pro, Dave moved up to contender status by defeating Bert Colima at Madison Square Garden. He kept the momentum going with a 12-round draw against perennial contender Soldier Bartfield, and then outpointed, in quick succession, Augie Ratner, Marty Cross, and Zulu Kid (Giuseppe Di Melfi). A loss to Phil Krug in Newark, New Jersey, was followed 18 days later with a win over Italian Joe Gans at Brooklyn’s Broadway Arena.
On August 14, 1922, Rosenberg won a 15-round unanimous decision over Phil Krug for the world middleweight championship as recognized by the New York State Athletic Commission. It was the high point of Rosenberg’s career. Three and a half months later he was an ex-champ, having lost the title by an eighth-round disqualification to Mike O’Dowd.
Rosenberg remained idle for nine months after losing the title. In his next bout he stopped ancient Soldier Bartfield. He fought only sporadically over the next three years. After retiring in 1925, Rosenberg worked for many years as a garment-center salesman in New York City.
Maxie Rosenbloom averaged 18 fights a year for 16 straight years! In the two years before he won the title, Maxie had 46 fights—the equivalent of an entire ten- to 15-year career for the majority of today’s world champions. Maxie is among the handful of boxers that have approached or exceeded 300 career bouts. Other members of this exclusive club include ring immortals Sam Langford, Battling Levinsky, Jack Britton, Ted “Kid” Lewis, Johnny Dundee, Harry Greb, Freddie Miller, and Fritzie Zivic. It takes a very special athlete to achieve what these men have accomplished. “Slapsie Maxie” Rosenbloom was very special.
Maxie was born in Connecticut but raised on the Lower East Side of New York City. At the age of 14, after a short stint in reform school, he began boxing in local amateur tournaments. He did not take naturally to the sport. The learning process was slow and painful. Maxie lost 20 of his first 25 amateur bouts. The 145-pound youth was physically strong and had a chin of granite, but he was having a rough time adjusting his wild street-fighting instincts to that of a disciplined boxer. But he refused to give up, and within a year began posting more wins than losses.
After about 200 contests as a simon-pure, Maxie was ready to turn pro. He was 19 years old and had filled out to a solid 165 pounds. Under the direction of his manager-trainer Frank Bachman (who would remain with him throughout his entire career), the young light heavyweight began his professional apprenticeship.
In his second year as a pro Rosenbloom met a murderous punching southpaw named Hambone Kelly, who had knocked out 32 of 36 opponents. For the first three rounds Maxie got the worst of it, but he kept battling back. In the fourth round he landed a left hook that broke Kelly’s nose. The next two rounds saw Maxie outpunch the puncher and win a six-round decision. Kelly’s face and chest were covered with his own blood. The defeated boxer was taken to a hospital to treat his severely broken nose.
The fight was an important turning point for Rosenbloom. Against his better judgment he had let himself be drawn into a slugging match against a dangerous opponent. Maxie won the fight, but the bruises and aching hands he incurred, plus the damage he caused to Kelly, got him to thinking there had to be a less-strenuous way to win. He had another fight scheduled just eight days later. What if he was the one who suffered the broken nose and had to pull out of his forthcoming match and forfeit a payday?
According to his manager Frank Bachman, after the Kelly fight Rosenbloom altered his fighting style. He became a cautious counterpuncher and incorporated a bob-and-weave defensive technique that made him a difficult and elusive target.55
Bachman was asked why his fighter had adopted the new style. “I guess he started to get smart. He began to realize he’d last longer the other way.”56 Maxie answered the same question with one of his colorful malapropisms, saying that his old fighting style could lead to “a conclusion of the brain.” Maxie was a grade-school dropout, but, as he was to prove time and again, his boxing IQ registered in the genius range.
Over the next 14 years Maxie’s innovative style of fighting entertained audiences (or bored them—depending on your point of view) with his highly effective slap-and-weave style. Maxie appeared to enjoy his work as he darted about, hands dangling at his sides, bending, ducking, slapping, and weaving to and fro as his opponents became ever more frustrated in their futile attempts to land a haymaker. The slapdash style had a clownish quality, an image that was reinforced after journalist Damon Runyon dubbed him “Slapsie Maxie.”
Rosenbloom’s unusual technique was admired and analyzed by a young trainer named Cus D’Amato who, according to his protégé Teddy Atlas, used it as the basis for his invention of the “peekaboo” style he taught to future champions Floyd Patterson, Jose Torres, and Mike Tyson. When Atlas asked D’Amato why, if Rosenbloom was such a good defensive fighter, he sported so much scar tissue over his eyes, Cus answered that it was acquired early in his career, during the early learning process. Maxie was never cut or severely punished during his prime fighting years.
Although he had the reputation of a playboy, Maxie always entered the ring in top shape. His constant fighting kept him in great condition. All he had to do between fights was some light gym work. He was also an inveterate gambler and big spender, and was often seen in the company of beautiful women. He avoided alcohol, however, and always found time to do his roadwork. To sportswriters who said he did not take his profession seriously enough, Maxie had a ready retort: “I don’t drink, I don’t smoke, and I don’t leave the dames alone.”
Maxie made for colorful copy in or out of a boxing ring. His witticisms and malaprops, nightclub escapades and zany behavior, were duly reported in the daily press. But his genius as a fighter was not fully appreciated or understood by contemporary writers, who were not impressed by his slap-happy style and apparent lack of knockout power. The popular conception was that Maxie couldn’t punch, which is understandable given the fact that he knocked out only 19 of 297 opponents. But Maxie could punch when he wanted to, or had to; it just wasn’t often, or necessary.
It may sound like a contradiction considering his profession, but Rosenbloom was actually a nonviolent boxer. Going for a knockout entails risk, as it leaves the aggressor vulnerable to a counterpunch. And to hit with power necessitates punching with a tightly closed fist. A fighter’s hands—the tools of his trade—take a lot of punishment, and are often injured when thrown with full force. An injury to the delicate bones and ligaments of the hand can take a long time to heal. With Maxie’s busy fight schedule (averaging a fight every three weeks), he could not risk a postponement due to an injured mitt, which would result in a missed payday.
One look at Maxie’s solid physique and powerful arms was proof enough that he possessed the natural power, if not the inclination, to score many more knockouts. But throwing with full power could damage his hands; cuffing or slapping an opponent with an open glove would prevent the type of hand damage that so often plagues boxers. Maxie’s brilliant boxing style was intended to cause the least amount of damage to himself and to his opponents, but still allow him to come away with a win.
Fighters who thought Maxie had no punch and that they could walk through his open-handed blows quickly realized how incredibly strong he was. They felt the power even in his slaps. His quick counters were thrown with speed and accuracy and from every angle. On the rare occasion when an opponent did manage to land a solid punch, Maxie would ball his fist and rap them with a good shot to put them back in line. He then would pick up where he left off and continue to slap them silly.
It didn’t happen often, but when he was struck by a haymaker, Maxie’s iron jaw withstood the impact. He was stopped only twice in 297 bouts.
By the time he won the light-heavyweight title in 1930, “The Harlem Harlequin” was a thoroughly accomplished boxer, and one of the three or four greatest defensive masters who ever lived.
Incredibly, despite his 297 fights, no film of Maxie in action exists. Several of his title fights were filmed but none have survived (or perhaps they have yet to be rediscovered). All that we have is a brief “sparring session” in a Hollywood film made in 1939 called The Kid from Kokomo. It was one of Maxie’s first movie roles in a career that would eventually encompass over 100 film and TV appearances. In the scene he steps into the ring with actor Wayne Morris for about half a minute of sparring. Of course it’s a staged fight, but Maxie is seen going through his moves.
The short sequence is quite revealing. Maxie moves around with his hands down. He avoids punches by slipping, ducking, and weaving away from them. He never loses his balance and always remains in range to counter (usually with an open-handed slap) when his opponent least expects it. Blows aimed at his head miss by mere inches. Maxie is constantly in motion as he steps in and out of range or from side to side.
Rosenbloom easily ranks with the greatest light-heavyweight champions of all time. It would not be out of the question to place him in the number-one spot. Very few boxers of any weight division have come close to matching the type of brutal competition he faced year after year. Among the best fighters he defeated are Mickey Walker, Jimmy Slattery, Dave Shade, Tiger Jack Fox, Al Gainer, Pete Latzo, Frankie Schoell, Tiger Flowers, Jack McVey, Ace Hudkins, Harry Ebbets, Johnny Wilson, Fred Lenhart, and Leo Lomski, to name just a few.
In 1930 Maxie outpointed Jimmy Slattery to win the light-heavyweight title, gaining revenge for a previous loss. He defeated Slattery again the following year at Brooklyn’s Ebbets Field. Of all his ring foes, Rosenbloom considered Slattery the smartest fighter he ever faced.
Rosenbloom’s easy 15-round decision over Adolph Heuser, Germany’s light-heavyweight champion, in Madison Square Garden in March 1933, was embarrassing to the Nazi regime in Germany. It was considered a factor in Hitler’s decision to ban Germany’s athletes from competing with Jewish athletes, “to avoid contradictions of the Nazi claim of superiority over non-Aryans.”57
During his four-year reign as light-heavyweight champion Maxie had 108 fights, including 8 title defenses. He lost the title on a controversial decision to Bob Olin on November 16, 1934, at Madison Square Garden. Despite Maxie’s suspiciously sluggish performance, a majority of sportswriters covering the bout still thought he deserved to win.
17 days later, as if to prove a point, he was back in action, outpointing Al Gainer, the number-one light-heavyweight contender. Less than a year later, in a non-title fight, Rosenbloom outpointed the new light-heavyweight champion, John Henry Lewis, who only a month earlier had defeated Bob Olin for the title. It is highly conceivable that had Rosenbloom not been robbed (or agreed to be robbed) of his title, he might have remained champion for another four years.
Throughout his career Rosenbloom was an equal-opportunity boxer. He fought 70 black fighters at a time when many top white boxers scrupulously avoided the best black fighters. He was more than willing to go into an opponent’s hometown for a decent payday. As a result he lost so many outrageous decisions, he would ask out-of-town promoters in advance, “If I win, can I get a draw?” Maxie’s record shows 26 draws, most of which were outside of New York and should have been scored in his favor.
From 1937 to 1939, ex-champ Rosenbloom campaigned successfully as a heavyweight, tipping the scales at 190 pounds. He won decisions over Kingfish Levinsky, Roscoe Toles, Lee Ramage, and Bob Nestell. In 1938, after outpointing Lou Nova and fighting a 10-round draw with Bob Pastor, Maxie became the fifth-ranking heavyweight contender in The Ring’s ratings. That same year he boldly issued a challenge to the great heavyweight champion Joe Louis. But the Brown Bomber’s management wanted nothing to do with him. They were confident Joe would win, but were less sure he would look good in the process. Anybody, even Joe Louis, could be made to look foolish when faced with Rosenbloom’s unorthodox and troublesome style. Rosenbloom’s challenge to the most-feared fighter in the world was in keeping with his supreme confidence.
When Maxie finally retired in 1939, a few months shy of his 35th birthday, he was still a world-class competitor and ranked among the top 10 heavyweight contenders. That same year he married 22-year-old USC graduate Muriel Faeder.
Maxie might have continued fighting except for the fact that his budding career as a Hollywood character actor was taking off. A few bit parts in movies had led to a contract with the Warner Brothers Studio. It was indeed fortunate that he had another career to fall back on, as he continued with his extravagant spending habits and habitual gambling. In 1947 a costly divorce from his wife of eight years ate up much of his ring earnings.
Maxie’s movie roles increased as he approached the end of his boxing career. He was often cast in the role of a not-too-bright ex-pug. The New York Times described his on-screen persona: “A Damon Runyonesque character with a flattened nose and a cauliflower ear, he spoke in the dese-and-dems jargon of the boxing fraternity and was the master of the twitch and the double take.” He used to joke that Jack Warner, head of the studio, sent him to Max Reinhardt’s acting school to study diction. “I met Marlon Brando there,” said Maxie. “He talked exactly like me.”
Maxie had a fruitful career in Hollywood, appearing in over 100 movie and television roles. In several movies he even received top billing. People sometimes wondered if he was acting or just playing himself. But off-screen Maxie was anything but a dim bulb. He was a highly intelligent and creative individual.
In his mid-sixties Maxie began to exhibit the debilitating effects of his long career as a boxer. The punches incurred in 297 professional fights finally caught up to the great fighter, and he was diagnosed with dementia pugilistica. Maxie also suffered from Paget’s disease, a degenerative bone disorder. His last years were spent in a convalescent home, where ongoing care and treatment was paid for by the Motion Picture and Television Fund.
“Slapsie Maxie” Rosenbloom, an American original . . . and a boxing immortal . . . passed away on March 6, 1976, at the age of 71.
In 1905 Isadore Rasofsky and his wife Sarah fled the pogroms and poverty of Russia for the golden land of America. They settled in the Lower East Side of Manhattan with their two young children. Six years later the family moved to the Maxwell Street district of Chicago. By then two more children had been born, including a son they named Beryl David. Outside of his home, on the streets of Chicago, the name Beryl was Americanized to “Barney.”
Barney Ross was brought up in an Orthodox Jewish home. His father was a Talmudic scholar with high hopes his son would follow in his footsteps. But when Barney was 15 years old his father was shot and killed during a holdup of the small grocery store his parents owned.
The tragedy devastated the family. Ross’s mother suffered a nervous breakdown and was sent back east to live with her sister. Barney’s three younger siblings were placed in an orphan asylum. Barney was taken in by an aunt.
Filled with anger and resentment and disdaining his religious upbringing, young Barney took to the streets and for a short time even worked as a messenger boy for Chicago crime lord Al Capone. Fortunately, after a friend brought him to a boxing gym, Barney became infatuated with the sport. The boxing ring channeled his anger and the discipline required of a boxer kept him off the streets. He began to compete in local amateur tournaments under the name Barney Ross. His goal was to eventually turn pro and earn enough money to reunite his family.
Barney fought in the amateurs for five years, pawning the medals he won for the few dollars they would bring. In four years Ross amassed some 250 bouts. The qualities that made him stand out as an amateur boxer (and later as a professional) were athletic intelligence, quick hands, a rock-solid chin, and tremendous fighting heart.
In 1929 Ross won both the Chicago and Inter-City Golden Gloves featherweight championships. He turned pro that same year under the very capable management team of Sam Pian and Art Winch. In 1933, four years after turning pro, Ross won the lightweight and junior welterweight titles via a split 10-round decision over the great Tony Canzoneri.
In a rematch three months later, in New York’s Polo Grounds, Ross won another split decision in a hard-fought 15-round battle. Ross’s fast and accurate left jabs, deft footwork, and furious rallies proved to be the decisive factor. (After he retired Ross evaluated all of the great fighters he encountered during his 81-bout career. He named Canzoneri as the finest all-around fighter he’d ever faced.)
For retaining his crown Ross received $35,000, the largest payday of his career up to that time. He used the money to make good on his promise to reunite his mother (since recovered from her nervous breakdown) and three younger siblings. He moved them into a fashionable apartment on Chicago’s West Side.
Over the next nine months Ross earned an additional $150,000 through endorsements, personal appearances, and in seven successful defenses of his junior welterweight title. It was around this time that he returned to his religious roots, taking his late father’s collection of biblical texts with him to training camp, where he was often seen studying them after his workouts. He even began wearing tzitzit, a garment with ritual fringes worn by observant Jews, under his custom-made suits.58
The highlights of Ross’s brilliant boxing career were his three epic fights with the great welterweight champion Jimmy McLarnin. The first bout took place on May 28, 1934, in front of 60,000 fans at the Madison Square Garden Bowl in Long Island City, New York. The promotion brought in $210,000, a remarkable amount considering the Great Depression was in full swing.
After 15 rounds of nonstop action, Ross was awarded the welterweight title via a split decision. The victory was especially sweet for New York’s Jewish fans, as the magnificent Irish boxer had previously knocked out seven top Jewish boxers, including the great Benny Leonard in the final bout of his ill-advised comeback.
The return bout with McLarnin six months later resulted in yet another split decision—this time for McLarnin. Not everyone agreed with the verdict. Twenty-two of 28 sportswriters had Ross the winner. It didn’t help that the judges and the referee were all of Irish descent.
The final installment of their historic trilogy took place in front of 45,000 fans at the Polo Grounds exactly one year after their first fight. This time there were no dissenting scores. Both judges and the referee gave Ross the verdict.
Ross had accomplished everything he set out to do in boxing. But he was still the sole support of his mother and three younger siblings. His finances were complicated by the fact that while champion he had developed an obsessive gambling habit, betting on horses. Ross was introduced to the sport of horse racing by singer Al Jolson. It was not unusual for Barney to drop thousands of dollars in a single day at the track. One of the reasons he fought so often was to pay off mounting gambling debts. As noted by biographer Douglas Century, “Ross was by nature a compulsive personality, with a weakness for alcohol, cigarettes, and women—but worst of all he developed a pathological addiction to gambling.”59
After regaining the welterweight title Barney won 18 fights, including three brutal encounters with the great Filipino fighter Ceferino Garcia. A week before his final bout with Garcia, Ross broke his left hand while sparring. He swore his trainer and managers to secrecy and, despite their protestations, insisted on going through with the fight, telling them, “I can lick Garcia with one hand.” He did just that and managed to win a unanimous decision by faking and blocking with his left while scoring most points with his uninjured right hand. It was a remarkable exhibition of skill and guts. But 45 rounds with the very tough Filipino had taken more out of Barney than he realized.
As often happens, the wear and tear of a tough boxing career catches up to a fighter without warning. After 250 amateur and 80 professional fights, the superb fighting machine had finally worn out. The worst time for that to happen is in the midst of a fight against a top-notch opponent. It was Barney’s misfortune that the realization came to him while facing one of the most destructive fighters who ever lived.
On May 31, 1938, at the Madison Square Garden Bowl, Ross was mauled by the great triple champion Henry Armstrong and lost a unanimous 15-round decision. Ross had endured a terrible beating but refused to go down. By the 11th round many in the crowd of 35,000 were screaming for the bout to be stopped. Ross implored the referee, Arthur Donovan, not to stop the fight. In between the 11th and 12th rounds Ross told Pian and Winch he would never speak to them again if they threw in the towel. He somehow made it to the final bell, although Armstrong later admitted he eased up for the final three rounds, out of respect for Ross. The decision and the title went to Armstrong, but Ross kept his record intact of never having been stopped.
As the bruised and battered ex-champion left the ring for the last time and walked down the aisle toward his dressing room, the crowd became eerily silent. Ross was puzzled at first and then realized what was happening: “I suddenly realized that this unbelievable, fantastic silence was the most wonderful tribute I had ever received. It spoke louder, a thousand times louder, than all the cheers I had heard since the day I put on a pair of boxing gloves and won my first fight . . . ”60
In keeping with a promise he had made to his mother—that he would only take one real beating—Ross announced his retirement. Promoters tried to entice him back into the ring, but Ross would have none of it. He did not want to wind up like so many ex-champs who compromised their health and hard-won reputations by fighting beyond their prime.
Shortly after he retired Barney opened a restaurant in Chicago’s Loop district. But the restless ex-champion was not cut out for the life of a restaurateur. When World War II broke out he enlisted in the US Marine Corps. As a celebrity he could have been assigned work as a morale booster or training new recruits, but Barney always liked to be where the action was, so he requested combat duty. He was 32 years old.
On November 4, 1942, Ross’s outfit, the 2nd Marine Division, landed on Guadalcanal. Two weeks later, while on patrol with three other marines, Barney found himself in a foxhole fighting for his life. For the next 13 hours he single-handedly protected his marine buddies who were too badly wounded to fire their own weapons. During the battle Ross lobbed over 20 hand grenades at enemy machine-gun positions and fired 400 rounds. When he ran out of bullets for his Browning automatic rifle, he picked up the other men’s weapons and, as they handed off the ammunition to him, continued to fire.61
By dawn one of his marine buddies was dead. Out of ammunition and wounded in the leg and foot, the 140-pound Ross picked up his 230-pound comrade and carried him to safety, placing him next to the other wounded marine. When reinforcements arrived they counted 22 dead Japanese soldiers surrounding his foxhole. Ross, whose helmet had more than 30 shrapnel dents, was awarded the Silver Star for heroism.62 He was cited for saving the life of two marines and halting an enemy advance.
After recovering from his wounds Barney was sent back to the front lines five more times. The stress of combat turned his hair white. He also contracted malaria and had to be hospitalized. While he was recuperating, well-meaning medical corpsmen gave him doses of morphine to ease his pain. He eventually developed a dependency on the drug, and by the time he returned to the States in 1943, Ross was a full-blown junkie with a $500-a-day heroin habit.
In 1946 his wife threatened to divorce him unless he overcame his addiction. Ross voluntarily entered the US Public Health Service Hospital in Lexington, Kentucky, intent on beating his addiction. Barney went public with his story, and the news made headlines throughout the world.
A harrowing description of his four-month struggle to kick his heroin habit is described in Ross’s 1957 autobiography, No Man Stands Alone. That same year a movie was released that dealt almost exclusively with his life as a drug addict. Monkey on My Back starred Cameron Mitchell as Barney. Movie marquee posters showed the actor sticking a needle into his arm with the words “The Barney Ross Story! Junkie! It Means Dope- Fiend! The Hottest Hell on Earth!”
The marketing campaign for the movie was embarrassing to Barney and his family. Ross was even more upset with the movie itself. He had been hired as a consultant, but the Hollywood version of his story was not what he had envisioned. He denounced the movie as “filth, bilge, and cheap sensation.”63 Ross threatened to sue United Artists for $5 million, but settled out of court for $10,000.
Ross was tireless in his efforts to steer young people away from drug addiction. He even testified before Congress on the nation’s narcotics problem, telling legislators that the profit motive should be taken out of the drug trade; that incurable addicts should be considered sick people, and be given free injections at clinics under careful supervision. He was also adamant that the government enforce the death penalty for bigtime dope dealers.
Barney spoke often at inner-city high schools, explaining to students the horror and futility of drug addiction firsthand. He also took addicts under his wing, giving them personal support and encouragement.
There was yet another fight that Barney was ready to give his all for—the fight to establish a homeland for the Jewish people.
In 1947 Ross was actively involved with Peter Bergson’s “American League for a Free Palestine,” which sought to rally support for the creation of a Jewish state. He helped to raise hundreds of thousands of dollars for the future state of Israel. Barney was also involved in activities that smuggled arms and men into the region. Throughout his life he remained a strong and committed supporter of Israel.
Ross’s final battle was one he could not win. He’d been a chain smoker for years, and in 1966 was diagnosed with throat cancer. When the news became public, thousands of get-well cards and letters poured into his home in Chicago.
His many friends in show business and boxing staged a number of testimonials and benefits on his behalf. Barney fought the disease with all the strength left within him, but finally succumbed on January 17, 1967, at the age of 57.
BARNEY ROSS AND HANK GREENBERG—A PAIR OF ACES
In 1934 two of America’s most popular Jewish sports heroes—boxing champion Barney Ross and baseball’s home-run slugger Hank Greenberg—refused to perform in their respective sports on a Jewish High Holiday.
Ross and Greenberg were active at a time when anti-Semitism in America was on the rise. The world was in the throes of the Great Depression, and bigots were coming out of the woodwork to blame the Jews for America’s economic woes. Hank was the star first baseman for the Detroit Tigers. Detroit was also home to one of the country’s most influential anti-Semites, the radio priest, Father Charles E. Coughlin. His weekly harangues over the radio, in which he railed against “Jewish conspirators” and “moneychangers,” won him a vast following throughout the country.
Hank Greenberg was to become the first Jewish player elected to the National Baseball Hall of Fame. In only his second year in the major leagues he had become immensely popular with the Motor City fans. He carried himself like an all-American hero both on and off the field. Handsome and intelligent, the 6'4”, 215-pound super athlete was an imposing figure and a powerful and fierce competitor.
Although he was not religiously observant, Hank Greenberg chose not to play on Yom Kippur, the holiest day on the Hebrew calendar. Instead he spent the entire day at Detroit’s Shaarey Zedek synagogue. When Greenberg entered the synagogue, services stopped and he was greeted with applause by the congregants. The great baseball player’s decision to publicly acknowledge his faith made every Jew in America proud.
Meanwhile, in New York City, Barney Ross, one of America’s most popular boxers, was scheduled to defend his welterweight title against Irish Jimmy McLarnin at an outdoor venue on September 6, 1934. Rain on the day of the fight forced a postponement. A new date was planned, but Ross told the promoters he would not fight on September 10, as he planned to observe Rosh Hashanah (first of the Jewish High Holidays) that day and attend synagogue services, as he did every year. The fight was rescheduled for September 17, three days before Yom Kippur.
The story of Ross’s adamant refusal to fight on Rosh Hashanah was reported in the media but was deemed less newsworthy than Greenberg’s decision not to play on Yom Kippur, and received far less attention. In fact, some newspaper reporters, instead of commending Ross’s genuine piety, took a more-cynical approach. According to the Chicago Tribune, the bout’s promoters knew that New York’s Jews would decline to attend on the Jewish New Year, so it made sense to find a more suitable date. The cynicism was understandable in light of the perceived differences between professional baseball and professional boxing. The public, although still very enthusiastic about boxing, understood that it was a dangerous and sometimes disreputable “ghetto” sport. On the other hand, the clean sport of baseball—the national pastime—was an idealized reflection of American society.
However, it should be noted that years before Hank Greenberg picked up a baseball, the first heroes for Jewish immigrants and their children were ghetto boxers, not baseball players. If Hank Greenberg had come along without having been preceded by scores of Jewish boxing champions and contenders, his accomplishments would have been viewed as an athletic anomaly and an exception to the stereotype that Jews lacked the ability and toughness to make it in sports. Jewish boxers had already punched holes in that stereotype; Hank Greenberg, in his role as a baseball superstar, knocked it out of the park.
Barney Ross and Hank Greenberg had something else in common besides their refusal to compete on a Jewish High Holy Day. They both enlisted in the United States armed services at the outbreak of World War II. Ross was 32 and had retired a few years earlier. Greenberg was 30,and still in his prime as an athlete. Both could have served as athletic directors but instead volunteered for combat duty.
Ross joined the Marines and saw combat on Guadalcanal. He was awarded the Silver Star for stopping an enemy advance and saving the lives of two marine buddies. Greenberg had originally been drafted into the peacetime army in 1940, and was honorably discharged just two days before the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. A few days later he reenlisted with the Army Air Forces, becoming the first major league player to volunteer for service. He was promoted to captain and had a distinguished record while serving with a B-29 bomber group in the China-Burma-India Theater.
Al Roth won the New York Golden Gloves 118-pound amateur championship in 1931. He turned pro a few months later, and over the next 10 years faced brutal competition in both the featherweight and lightweight divisions. But win or lose, Al Roth rarely took a backward step. He fought grueling battles with top contenders Davey Day, Pedro Montanez, Petey Hayes, Eddie Cool, Aldo Spoldi, and, in non-title bouts, world champions Lew Ambers and Baby Arizmendi—none of whom could stop him.
On October 4, 1935, at Madison Square Garden, Roth faced the great Tony Canzoneri for the lightweight championship of the world. Canzoneri was much the superior boxer but, in typical fashion, Roth took everything the champion dished out, and never stopped throwing leather. Hopelessly behind after 11 rounds, Al’s right fist finally landed on the tiring champion’s chin and staggered him. Although bloodied and exhausted, Canzoneri’s experience, guts, and greatness pulled him through to the final bell. After 15 rounds of nonstop action, Canzoneri was awarded a unanimous decision.
Nearing the end of his career Roth was stopped for the first time in 88 bouts when he suffered a fractured rib in a bout against the formidable Billy Marquart, a fighter he’d beaten two years earlier. Roth was not allowed to answer the bell for the seventh round. Two fights later, on August 14, 1941, Roth met future lightweight champion Beau Jack at Ebbets Field. The referee stopped the bout at the end of the fifth round after both of Roth’s eyes were swollen shut. It was the last fight of his career.
Ted Sandwina’s mother was the famous Kate Sandwina, a circus performer known as “The Lady Hercules.” In the early twentieth century she was billed as “The World’s Strongest Woman,” and was a featured attraction with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. By her own account she defeated the internationally acclaimed strongman Eugene Sandow in a weightlifting contest in New York. According to Katie, she lifted 300 pounds over her head, while Sandow only managed to lift it to his chest. She then adopted the stage name “Sandwina,” becoming a feminine version of Sandow.
During one of her European tours Katie met her husband of 52 years, Max Heymann. As part of her act she would lift her 165-pound husband over her head with one hand.
On January 25, 1909, Katie gave birth to a son whom she named after President Theodore Roosevelt. Ted Sandwina grew up in the circus and spent his formative years touring Europe with his mother and father.
While still a teenager Ted decided to become a professional boxer. His first recorded bout was a four-round draw against Max Diekmann in 1926. The muscular six-foot-one, 195-pound heavyweight won 17 of his next 21 bouts, including 12 by knockout.
In 1929 Ted launched an American tour that he hoped would lead to a fight for the heavyweight championship. His colorful background created a lot of buzz, and expectations were high for the Jewish strongman.
After knocking out five of seven opponents, Ted was matched with Italian heavyweight Riccardo Bertazzolo at Madison Square Garden. Ted won an easy 10-round decision over an inept foe who was described in the New York Times as “deplorably unschooled.” His next fight two months later was more competitive, and resulted in a 10-round draw with “Napoleon” Jack Dorval.
In June 1930 Sandwina was rated the 10th-best heavyweight in the world, and that same month he appeared on the cover of The Ring magazine. But subsequent losses to Tony Galento, Ernie Schaaf, and Stanley Poreda pushed him out of the ratings. He was also plagued by various training injuries. The last two years of Sandwina’s career were all downhill as he lost 19 of 20 fights (eight by knockout), including a fourth-round stoppage to future champion Primo Carnera.
Ted retired in 1933 and lived out the rest of his life in his adopted hometown of Sioux City, Iowa.
In the late 1920s Milwaukee’s Joey Sangor was tearing up the competition in the featherweight and junior lightweight divisions. He outpointed contenders Santiago Zorilla, Young Nationalista, and Sammy Dorfman, and had two non-title wins over bantamweight champion Bud Taylor.
In 1929 Sangor challenged junior lightweight champion Tod Morgan. The bout took place in Sangor’s hometown of Milwaukee. Unfortunately Wisconsin still adhered to the no-decision rule, so Sangor had to win by a knockout or a foul to dethrone the champion. The bout went the full 10 rounds. If judged officially the decision could have gone either way, although most reporters covering the bout had scored it for Sangor. It was a tough break for the hometown favorite.
Five weeks after his bout with Morgan, Sangor crossed gloves with ex-featherweight champion Tony Canzoneri. Near the end of the second round Canzoneri’s right fist found Sangor’s chin. The referee’s count reached seven when the bell rang. In those days a fighter could be saved by the bell, so Sangor was dragged back to his corner where his seconds administered smelling salts and doused him with water, restoring him to consciousness. The plucky challenger somehow lasted into the seventh round before Canzoneri dropped him again and the fight was stopped. In effect Sangor was actually knocked out twice in one fight.
After a 10-month layoff Sangor returned to the ring and lost two of his next three bouts. He was only two weeks shy of his 27th birthday, but decided his career had run its course and it was time to retire.
After hanging up his gloves Sangor operated a drugstore in Milwaukee in partnership with his brother, Lew, who also managed his ring career.
In 1967 Joey’s hometown honored him with induction into the Wisconsin Athletic Hall of Fame.
If you were good enough to get past tough Morrie Schlaifer, odds are you had what it took to become a contender or world champion. Although the 150-pound Omaha mauler was never quite good enough to grab the brass ring, like so many other tough journeyman fighters, he was always dangerous and capable of pulling a major upset. Among the better fighters Morrie upset were Panama Joe Gans, Paul Doyle, Bermondsey Billy Wells, future welterweight champ Pete Latzo, and faded boxing legend Jack Britton.
On the other hand, Morrie could never outduke master boxers Dave Shade (five losses) and Frankie Schoell. He also lost a return bout to Latzo, and was outpointed by England’s Tommy Milligan and Philadelphia’s Sailor Friedman. The closest Morrie came to a title bout was a 1923 encounter with the great welterweight champion Mickey Walker. “The Toy Bulldog” stopped him in the sixth round. After 60 fights the wear and tear of his give-and-take style of fighting had taken its toll, and he began losing to second-rate opponents. Morrie finally got the message and retired in 1927 after losing six of his last seven fights.
Bantamweight Benny Schwartz, who began his career as “Young Mendel,” was one of Baltimore’s most popular fighters during the 1920s. In his first two years as a pro Benny lost only seven of 46 bouts. One of those losses, on November 24, 1922, was to world bantamweight champion Joe Lynch at Memorial Hall in Springfield, Ohio. Lynch was far too experienced and knocked out his young challenger in the fifth round.
Over the next 10 months Schwartz ran up a string of victories and was rewarded with a title bout against the great flyweight champion Pancho Villa at the 5th Regiment Armory in Baltimore. The match was promoted by Benny’s manager, Benny Franklin, who also worked his corner during the fight. At the end of 15 hard-fought rounds the unanimous decision went to the dynamic Filipino fighter.
In 1927 Schwartz fought a 12-round nontitle bout with bantamweight champion Charley Phil Rosenberg. Schwartz lost the decision but rebounded with impressive victories over Joe Ryder and Pinky May before losing a decision to future bantamweight king Panama Al Brown.
Schwartz continued to fight past his prime, with varying degrees of success, for another five years, until a knockout loss to future featherweight champion Petey Sarron convinced him to retire.
Orphaned at the age of two, Izzy Schwartz spent his childhood years in New York’s Hebrew Orphan Asylum. In 1917, the year America entered World War I, he enlisted in the army. After thrashing a much larger soldier in an impromptu barracks brawl, Izzy was persuaded by the company commander to join the camp’s boxing squad. His boxing talent was obvious from the beginning. The following year Izzy won the All-Army flyweight title and was promoted to corporal.
Izzy was always on the move, using his considerable speed, busy left jab, and slick footwork to pile up points. But what Izzy lacked in punching power he more than made up for with his classy boxing skills and fighting heart. In 130 fights he was stopped only 3 times. One of those losses was due to a broken hand and the other from a foul punch. The only other time he failed to go the distance was in his very last fight.
After the sudden retirement of flyweight champion Fidel LaBarba in 1927, the New York State Athletic Commission set up a tournament to determine a new champion. Izzy defeated four opponents to make it to the finals. On December 16, 1927, in Madison Square Garden, he outpointed Newsboy Brown over 15 rounds to win the title.
Five months later Izzy moved up a division and challenged Bushy Graham for the bantamweight championship of the world. After 15 rounds Graham was awarded the decision. Izzy then defended his flyweight title twice before putting it on the line against Newark’s Willie LaMorte.
LaMorte copped the 15-round decision, but when it was revealed the next day that both boxers were under contract to the same manager (a conflict of interest, and clear violation of the rules), the New York Commission refused to recognize LaMorte as champion. Another tournament was arranged to determine a new champion. This time Izzy did not make it to the finals, losing a 10-round decision to French champion Eugene Huat.
Izzy was typical of the majority of Jewish fighters who were able to maintain a stable and productive life after their boxing careers ended. He was married to his wife Sarah for over 60 years, and together they raised two fine sons. For many years he worked as a motion-picture projectionist, eventually becoming financial secretary of the Motion Picture Projectionists’ Union Local 306. Throughout his life he maintained close ties to boxing through his affiliation with Ring #8 of the New York Veteran Boxers’ Association.
Erich Seelig began his professional boxing career in Germany in 1931 and won both the middleweight and light-heavyweight titles of that country. When the Nazis came to power in 1933 the government ordered all Jewish national champions stripped of their titles. Threatened by the Nazis and barred from defending his title, Erich and his parents fled to France. He resumed his career and continued to box in France, Belgium, and England before emigrating to the United States in 1935.
Seelig fought just about every top middleweight contender of his era. In Europe he defeated Kid Tunero and lost close decisions to Gustave Roth and Marcel Thil. In America he outpointed contenders Paul Pirrone, Carmen Barth, Glen Lee, and future champion Ken Overlin. A draw with Teddy Yarosz and split-decision losses to Fred Apostoli and Billy Conn did not hurt his standing. At one point he was ranked the number-five middleweight in the world by The Ring magazine.
On December 11, 1939, at the Cleveland Arena, Seelig challenged NBA middleweight champion Al Hostak for the title and was knocked out in the first round. He had two more fights and then retired.
Seelig’s wife Greta was also a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany. She had been a world-class hurdler but was barred by the German government from competing in the 1936 Olympic Games. The couple eventually settled in Atlantic City, New Jersey, where they operated a chicken farm.
Erich Seelig was elected to both the New Jersey Boxing Hall of Fame and the International Jewish Sports Hall of Fame.
Solly Seeman was 14 years old when he threw his first left jab in a boxing class at Manhattan’s Young Men’s Hebrew Association on East 92nd Street. Over the next four years he established a brilliant amateur record, winning the New York State flyweight championship, Metropolitan bantamweight championship, and, in 1920, the National AAU featherweight title. Solly also qualified for the 1920 Olympics by winning four fights in one night at New York’s 71st Regiment Armory, but decided to forgo the games and turn pro instead.
As a pro Solly outpointed Joey Silvers and Johnny Ceccoli, won a newspaper decision over former lightweight champion Jimmy Goodrich, and drew with Chilean contender Luis Vicentini. But the depth of talent in the lightweight division of the 1920s was extraordinary. Even though Seeman was one of the finest pure boxers of his era, the occasional defeat was to be expected. In 1925 Chicago’s future champion Sammy Mandell traded jabs and feints with Seeman in two bouts and edged him both times. That same year Benny Valgar (considered by some experts to be on a par with the great Benny Leonard as a boxer) won a convincing 10-round decision over Seeman.
Solly retired in 1929 at the age of 27. After 81 professional fights his face bore few scars, a tribute to his excellent boxing technique and the fact that he quit before his skills began to erode.
In 1935 Jimmy Braddock hired Seeman to advise him how to defeat heavyweight champion Max Baer. Evidently the lessons paid off as Braddock—a 10–1 underdog—jabbed Max silly and won the title.
Solly was smart both inside and outside of the ring. For over 30 years he operated a successful machine shop that eventually expanded to three plants with headquarters in Jamaica, New York. He and his wife Rose raised two boys, both of whom graduated law school and forged successful careers of their own.
Benny’s father, Leon, had boxed in England as “Tom Sharkey” (not to be confused with the famous American boxer of the same name). An older brother fought as “Willie Sharkey.” The actual family name is Goldwater. Benny decided to keep the family’s boxing tradition going and used the name “Benny Sharkey” throughout his career.
In his first year as a pro Benny fought 30 times. He continued that incredible pace, averaging over 15 fights a year for the next 11 years, eventually amassing a total of 196 professional bouts. Benny defeated former world champions Emile Pladner and Teddy Baldock and won an impressive 10-round decision (nontitle) over the reigning bantamweight champion, Baltazar Sangchili. Other top opponents included featherweight contenders Nel Tareton, Dick Corbett, Johnny King, Benny Caplan, and Johnny McMillan. He also drew with featherweight title claimant Maurice Holtzer, and twice defeated Venezuelan champion Simon Chavez. In one of the few knockout losses of his career, Sharkey was caught cold in the first round of a 1934 non-title bout with featherweight champion Freddie Miller.
The Ring rated Sharkey among the top 10 bantamweights in the world for three months in 1931. He returned to the ratings in February 1938 as the number-seven featherweight in the world.
In September 1939, at the outbreak of World War II, Benny joined the Royal Air Force. After the war he drove a taxi in London for a number of years before becoming an ambulance driver in the 1950s.
The 1920s was a Golden Age for the flyweight division. The field was crowded with outstanding boxers from a variety of countries. Popular champions such as England’s Jimmy Wilde, Filipino Pancho Villa, and America’s Fidel LaBarba drew thousands of people to major league ballparks for their title fights. Among the scores of talented contenders vying for a shot at the title was Connecticut’s Pinky Silverberg.
Pinky began his pro career in 1920 when he was 16 years old. His older brother, Herman Silverberg (aka, Herman “Kid” Silvers), a featherweight, turned pro about the same time, and was a main-event boxer in the New York clubs.
In 1927 Silverberg won the vacant NBA flyweight title when his opponent, Ruby “Dark Cloud” Bradley, was disqualified for landing a low blow in the seventh round. In a ceremony a week after the fight, the NBA commissioner presented Pinky with his championship belt.
The top flyweight contenders lined up for a shot at the new champion and Pinky was ready to accommodate them, but through a strange set of circumstances he never got a chance to defend his title.
Seven weeks after winning the title Silverberg and Bradley met for a return match. Silverberg weighed in slightly over the flyweight limit, so his championship was not on the line. This time Bradley won a unanimous 10-round decision.
A few days after the fight the National Boxing Association took the title away from Silverberg. The reason given was “an unsatisfactory showing” in his second bout with Bradley. The action was unprecedented. It is the only time in boxing history that a champion was shorn of a legitimately won championship due to a poor performance in a subsequent non-title match.
Although it was later revealed that Silverberg had fought Bradley with a broken hand, the organization’s decision stood. The reason for the NBA’s stubborn refusal to restore his title appears to have involved a bureaucratic power struggle within the organization’s hierarchy. Adding to the confusion were the disparate claims by fighters recognized as champion by New York State and the European Boxing Union. During the 1920s over a dozen fighters were recognized as flyweight champions by these organizations. The situation did not completely resolve itself until 1935, when Scotland’s Benny Lynch won undisputed recognition.
Pinky outgrew the flyweight class and for seven years campaigned as a bantamweight. He fought the best of his era, including Midget Wolgast (four times), Panama Al Brown, Black Bill, Nel Tarleton, Pete Sanstol, Archie Bell, and future featherweight champion Petey Sarron.
There were few soft touches on Silverberg’s boxing résumé. He fought 85 documented bouts and was stopped only once, by top contender Willie LaMorte in 1926. Problems with his oft-broken hands hampered many of his performances.
After he retired Pinky supported his wife and two children by working for an aircraft parts manufacturer in Ansonia, Connecticut. In 2007 he was inducted into the Connecticut Boxing Hall of Fame.
Pal Silvers was one of three talented fighting brothers (along with Joey and Marty) who were fixtures in the New York City boxing scene for nearly two decades. Beginning his career in 1925, Pal eventually fought in every weight class from junior lightweight to heavyweight. He was at his best in the late 1920s when he outpointed welterweight contenders Nick Testo and future thespian Canada Lee. Pal also defeated highly rated middleweight Vince Forgione twice, but lost decisions to future champions Gorilla Jones and Vince Dundee. In December 1928 The Ring listed him at number eight among the top 10 welterweight challengers.
Silvers is best remembered for a controversial 1931 bout with the legendary former lightweight champion Benny Leonard. After Leonard’s fortune was wiped out in the stock market crash of 1929, he launched a comeback. The bout with Silvers was his first in over seven years. Described as “a pudgy, slow-footed old man of 35” by the UP wire service, the formerly peerless master boxer was being pummeled when suddenly, Silvers did a swan dive to the canvas in the second round and was counted out. The obvious fix fooled no one.
Pal tried to wash away the memory of his poor acting by winning eight of his next 10 fights, but he was soon past his prime and became a stepping-stone for young fighters on the way up.
Abe Simon attended John Adams High School in Richmond Hill, New York, where he was a star lineman for the school’s football team and an “A” student. In 1932 Yale University offered the six-foot-four, 260-pound athlete a football scholarship. Abe turned down the scholarship when an enterprising manager told him he could earn a fortune as a heavyweight boxer. It wasn’t long before Abe was training to be a boxer under the sponsorship of millionaire Jock Whitney and his silent partner, former heavyweight champion Gene Tunney.
In his first two years as a pro Abe won 16 of 17 bouts, including 14 by knockout. He lost for the first time on August 30, 1937, when the more-experienced Buddy Baer (another giant, at six-foot-six and 245 pounds) stopped him in the third round.
Following the Baer debacle a change of management ensued, and his career was taken over by the influential promoter Jimmy Johnston, who hired the excellent trainer Freddie Brown to sharpen his boxing skills. Johnston and Brown guided Abe through a number of important bouts, including a sixth-round knockout of future heavyweight champion Jersey Joe Walcott. Additional victories over contenders Eddie Blunt, Gunnar Barlund, and Roscoe Toles added to his prestige. By 1940 the vastly improved boxer was rated the sixth-best heavyweight in the world.
On March 21, 1941, at Detroit’s Olympia Stadium, Abe challenged heavyweight champion Joe Louis. The fight was scheduled for 20 rounds. The “Brown Bomber” was still in his prime and considered unbeatable. Abe, a 20–1 underdog going into the fight, surprised the 18,000 fans in the stadium (and the millions listening on radio) by putting up stubborn resistance.
Abe was knocked down for the first time in his life in the opening round and was floored again in the third round. Yet despite the battering he refused to give up, and even managed to stagger Louis in the seventh round. By the beginning of the 13th round the champion’s left eye had closed up. Louis, determined to end the bout, floored Abe twice. Upon arising from the second knockdown Simon was staggered again by another powerful blow to his jaw. The referee stopped the fight at 1:20 of the 13th round. After the fight Louis praised Simon: “For a big guy he was pretty good and just about as tough as they come.”64
Abe’s gutsy showing—he was only the third boxer to last past the 10th round with Louis—earned him a rematch almost a year to the day after their first bout. This time the venue was Madison Square Garden. America had entered World War II less than four months earlier, and there was a patriotic fervor among the standing-room-only crowd of 19,000 fans. Sergeant Joe Louis (he’d recently enlisted in the army) was defending his title for the 21st time. Joe weighed 207 to Simon’s 255¼ pounds.
Joe Louis was always devastating in rematches, and this fight was no different. Big Abe was sent to the canvas in the second and fifth rounds after absorbing horrific punishment. Showing tremendous fortitude and resilience, the lumbering giant somehow managed to win the fourth round by taking the fight to Louis and scoring with body punches at close quarters.
The inevitable ending came at the beginning of the sixth round. Simon was knocked down by a volley of punches and was counted out by referee Arthur Donovan. Upon arising Abe protested vigorously to Donovan that he was up at “nine” and had beaten the count.
In an article for Esquire magazine, written several years after he retired, Simon revealed that he had suffered terribly from chronic headaches after his two punishing fights with Louis. Despite lucrative offers from promoters, he realized that continuing with his career would lead to further damage, so he wisely retired after his second go-round with Louis. His wife, a registered nurse, was instrumental in persuading him to retire.
To all who knew him outside of the ring, Abe Simon was a gentle giant who was nothing like the menacing characters he occasionally played in movies and television. Abe appeared in Requiem for a Heavyweight (1962), Never Love a Stranger (1958), and Singing in the Dark (1956). But his most memorable movie role was playing a hulking thug in the classic movie, On the Waterfront (1954).
Abe was only 56 years old when he suffered a fatal heart attack while working as a security guard at Yonkers Raceway in New York.
The few existing films of Al Singer’s fights reveal a graceful boxer of inordinate skill. Singer’s speed, his flashing combinations, balletic footwork, and accurate power punches were reminiscent of Benny Leonard in his prime. Within a few short years of turning pro he was drawing thousands of fans to New York’s arenas and ballparks.
Singer had been an outstanding all-around athlete in high school, where his favorite sport was basketball. His father, a small garment manufacturer, did well enough to move his wife and five children out of the Lower East Side to the Bronx, at the time a fashionable borough of New York City.
Al displayed a natural affinity for the sport, amassing an impressive array of amateur trophies, including the Metropolitan AAU (Amateur Athletic Union) featherweight title. He was undefeated in his first two years as a pro. The 19-year-old phenom soon drew the attention of Prohibition gangsters interested in owning “a piece” of a promising fighter. What happened next remains a mystery to this day. According to Singer, two men posing as detectives took his manager, Harry Drucker, downtown to “headquarters.” The manager was never heard from again.
Singer, like virtually all professional fighters, had no control over who managed him, and always denied any involvement with the Mob. Yet the rumors persisted that he was a “connected” boxer and that several of his early fights were fixed.
His first important match was against former featherweight champion Tony Canzoneri on December 14, 1928. The match sold out Madison Square Garden. Although a heavy underdog, Al surprised the oddsmakers by holding his more-experienced opponent to a 10-round draw. The fight was a thriller from start to finish. James Dawson, writing for the New York Times, tagged Singer “The New Benny Leonard.” It was the highest compliment any young boxer could receive. Al’s impressive showing thrust the 20-year-old boxer onto the world stage.
Over the next 14 months “The Bronx Beauty” cut a swath through the lightweight division. He scored back-to-back second-round knockouts of European champion Gaston Charles and world featherweight champion Andre Routis (nontitle). He then outpointed Joe Ryder, Davey Abad, and Dominick Petrone. A victory over former bantamweight champion Bud Taylor moved him firmly into the upper echelon of lightweight contenders vying for a shot at the title.
A temporary setback occurred when he was knocked out by Ignacio Fernandez. Al blamed his defeat on an eye injury incurred in a previous fight that was not given enough time to heal. He also lost a disputed 12-round decision to the great Cuban featherweight Kid Chocolate. But in his final bout of 1929, he flattened tough Pete Nebo in one round.
Singer began 1930 in top form by winning a 10-round decision over the rugged Chilean contender Stanislaus Loayza, and then knocked out Eddie “Kid” Wagner in three rounds. He also avenged his previous loss to Ignacio Fernandez with a unanimous 10-round decision.
On July 17, 1930, Singer faced lightweight champion Sammy Mandell at Yankee Stadium in front of 40,000 fans. The odds favored Mandell, one of the savviest boxers of his generation. The champion’s record showed only seven defeats in 92 fights. Singer came into the ring with six defeats in 59 fights, including 25 wins by knockout.
In a startling upset Mandell was knocked out in 1:46 of the first round. It was the fastest exchange of a title on record, up to that time. Singer, who was paid $75 for his first pro fight less than four years earlier, received over $20,000 for the abbreviated contest. There was talk that gamblers had fixed the fight and that Mandell had taken a dive, but the allegations were never proven.
On September 11, 1930, Singer returned to Yankee Stadium to face the great Jimmy McLarnin in a non-title fight. After outboxing McLarnin in the first two rounds, Singer was nailed by a right cross in the third round that dropped him hard. He was up at nine but was floored again and failed to beat the count. Fortunately for Singer, his title was not at stake, as both fighters had weighed above the 135-pound lightweight limit.
Two months later Singer was back in Madison Square Garden for a title defense against his former foe, Tony Canzoneri.
Singer was favored to outbox Canzoneri, but the challenger upset the odds. Canzoneri flattened Singer in just 1:06 of the first round, breaking the record for the fastest exchange of a title set only four months earlier in the Singer vs. Mandell fight.
Al came back with four straight wins in 1931, including a 10-round decision over contender Lew Massey and a second-round KO of former bantam champ Eddie “Cannonball” Martin. But in his last fight of the year he suffered a second-round knockout loss to featherweight champion Bat Battalino (non-title). It was Al’s 68h professional bout. The loss convinced the 22-year-old boxer to hang up his gloves. A brief comeback in 1935 resulted in four wins against nondescript opponents.
When America entered World War II Singer enlisted in the army. But the same eye problems that had plagued him during his career eventually resulted in his receiving a medical discharge.
In his post-boxing life Al dabbled in real estate, cabaret ownership, and had various sales positions. In 1955 he was appointed a boxing judge by the New York State Athletic Commission.
On April 20, 1961, Al Singer was found dead in his apartment, victim of a heart attack. He was 54 years old.
In 1958 uber boxing historian Nat Fleischer, the venerable publisher and editor of The Ring, ranked Lew Tendler the ninth-greatest lightweight of all time. His choice is not hard to fathom. Lew’s remarkable record speaks for itself. It lists only 11 official losses (including two dubious disqualifications) out of 172 professional fights. Three of those losses were to boxing legends Benny Leonard, Mickey Walker, and Johnny Dundee (whom Tendler defeated in a return bout). Five occurred when he was past his prime. According to the International Boxing Research Organization, an investigation of Lew’s 98 no-decision bouts reveals that only four newspaper verdicts favored his opponents.
Lew Tendler came from the same South Philly ghetto neighborhood that spawned many outstanding Jewish boxers during the first three decades of the last century. His first job was selling newspapers on a Philadelphia street corner. He was six years old.
Philadelphia had eight daily newspapers, and competition for a prime location could sometimes turn violent. Circulation wars were common. Older boys would often bully their way onto a busy street corner already occupied by a younger and smaller newsboy. It was an asset for a newsboy to be good with his fists. Lew hawked papers for nine years and was a fierce defender of his turf. Even if he didn’t always win, the young tyro put up such a determined effort that the older boys thought it less punishing to find another location and leave the little wildcat alone.
Lew had not yet celebrated his bar mitzvah when he began fighting in amateur bouts. He eventually graduated to tournaments that were often held in the city’s burlesque houses. The bouts took place in between the acts. A flood of good fighters were developed in these tournaments. After a lengthy amateur career Lew turned pro in 1913 at the age of 15.
At the time Philadelphia had an ordinance that restricted all professional boxing matches to not more than six rounds. Limiting a fight to six rounds had the effect of speeding up the action. It also provided a young fighter with the opportunity to fight often and gain experience without being subjected to a grueling 10- or 20-round bout. Philadelphia had seven arenas running weekly boxing shows. There were also additional fight clubs in neighboring cities. It was in these clubs that Lew, fighting once or twice a month, established a reputation as a powerful and aggressive body puncher with an unorthodox southpaw style. Within two years of turning pro the exnewsboy had become one of Philadelphia’s most popular boxers.
Lew received his “boxing PhD” against the likes of Johnny Dundee, Eddie O’Keefe, Benny Kaufman, Phil Bloom, Frankie Callahan, George KO Chaney, Ever Hammer, Willie Jackson, Joe Welling, Frankie Britt, and Rocky Kansas.
By the age of 23 he was a top-rated lightweight contender and a seasoned veteran, with 113 professional fights under his belt. A showdown with the great lightweight champion Benny Leonard was inevitable.
The first Leonard vs. Tendler match took place in Jersey City on July 22, 1922. The bout attracted 55,000 fans to the same huge stadium built a year earlier for the Jack Dempsey vs. Georges Carpentier heavyweight title fight.
New Jersey still adhered to the “no decision” rule, which meant the only way Tendler could win the title was by a knockout. Lew was confident he could accomplish what most observers considered an impossible task. The 3–1 odds favored Leonard, who was considered invincible at 135 pounds. The champion, in the fifth year of his reign, predicted a seventh-round knockout (the bout was scheduled for 12 rounds).
Knowing he had to win by a knockout to acquire the title caused Lew to pressure Leonard relentlessly, in hopes of creating openings for his vaunted left cross. Midway through the eighth round the challenger landed his best punch when a left to the jaw caused Leonard’s knees to sag. The champion was in obvious distress, but his steel-trap mind quickly shifted into overdrive. Momentarily frozen by the punch, and a sitting duck for Tendler’s follow-up punches, Leonard suddenly spoke to Tendler. To some it looked like he was telling Tendler to “Keep your punches up, Lew,” although the punch that hurt him had landed nowhere near foul territory. Others claimed he spoke to Tendler in Yiddish in order to confuse him. Whatever was said (and it was never made clear by either fighter), Lew was provoked to answer Leonard with a few choice words of his own. Tendler’s reaction gave Leonard the few seconds he needed to regain his equilibrium and make it to the end of the round.
In the following rounds the momentum shifted back to the champion, but going into the 12th round, it was still anybody’s fight. In the final minute Benny closed with a furious rally and appeared to have won the round. The faces of both champion and challenger bore the telltale signs of a bruising contest.
The following day the New York Times reported that Leonard had won “by the scantest of margins.” Most other newspaper reports agreed, although some declared the fight a draw.
Of course a rematch was called for to settle the matter. So on July 24, 1923, 63,000 fans came to Yankee Stadium anticipating another great fight. The attendance and gate receipts (over $450,000) set a record for a lightweight title bout that stood for over 50 years. It was also the first championship fight held in the brand-new “House that Ruth Built.”
In the intervening year between the first and second fight Leonard had studied and analyzed Lew’s southpaw style. The end result was a fight that bore very little resemblance to their first highly competitive encounter. In what may have been his greatest performance ever, Leonard completely outboxed and outpunched Tendler, dominating practically every round. As the bout drew to a close Leonard opened up with every combination in his huge repertoire in an attempt to end the fight. Only Lew’s great heart and chin kept him upright in the last two rounds. It was the worst beating he’d ever taken. The unanimous decision in Leonard’s favor was a foregone conclusion. Of some comfort to Lew was the $116,000 he received for his share of the record gate.
On June 2, 1924, Lew received his third opportunity to win a world title when he challenged Mickey Walker for the welterweight championship. Weighing 142¾ to Walker’s 147, Tendler attempted to keep Walker, a strong infighter, at long range. At the end of seven rounds the fight was even. In the eighth round Walker was able to work his way inside and began scoring with damaging body punches. Lew tried his best to hold off “The Toy Bulldog,” but the youth, strength, and skill of the great welterweight champion were just too much to cope with, and he lost a close but unanimous 10-round decision.
It was no disgrace to lose to Walker, a legendary fighter who would go on to win the middleweight crown, but Lew had been fighting for 11 years, and the decline of his skills was inevitable. Nevertheless, he still managed to win 28 of his next 33 fights and remain competitive with the world’s top welterweights. The only time he was ever stopped occurred one year after the Walker fight, when Jack Zivic scored a TKO in the fifth round. Tendler’s seconds had thrown in the towel after he had gone down twice and was being pummeled by Zivic. Five months later Lew avenged the loss by defeating Zivic over 10 rounds.
In retirement Lew fared better than most ex-fighters. Hugely popular in his hometown of Philadelphia, Tendler opened a restaurant in the city and named it—what else?—“Lew Tendler’s.” For many years it was a magnet for tourists, professional athletes, celebrities, and politicos. Two branches of the restaurant, in Atlantic City and Miami Beach, were also successful. On a personal note, Lew was married to the former Celia Lasker for over 50 years and they had three sons.
With or without a championship belt, the life and career of this great fighter defined the real meaning of the word “champion.”
Sid Terris may have been the fastest lightweight boxer of all time. His hand and foot speed seemed almost superhuman. Like a pugilistic Michael Jordan, the five-foot-ten, 133-pound speed demon seemed to defy the physical boundaries of gravity. Old-timers were in awe of his phenomenal speed and agility. Legendary trainer Cus D’Amato claimed that he once saw Terris distract an opponent by jumping off the canvas, and in the fraction of a second when both feet were in midair, he landed three left jabs!
Before he turned pro in 1922 Terris had a brilliant amateur career, winning 50 consecutive bouts. He won the New York State, Metropolitan, and National AAU lightweight championships in a 10-month span.
Terris’s rise in the professional ranks was highlighted by decisions over former featherweight champion Johnny Dundee and future lightweight champions Jimmy Goodrich and Rocky Kansas. Although he went as high as number one in the lightweight ratings, Terris never received a title shot.
One of his most memorable victories was a bout that brought together the world’s two fastest lightweights. In 1924 Sid Terris faced off against the great “French Flash,” Benny Valgar. Over 14,000 excited fans paid their way into Brooklyn’s Henderson Bowl (formerly the Coney Island Stadium) to see the highly anticipated contest.
Both Valgar and Terris were experienced and consummate boxing artists, but it was Terris’s edge in speed that carried him to victory. The New York Times praised his “remarkable speed and cleverness,” and cited his performance as “one of the most skillful exhibitions of boxing seen here in recent years.” An interesting but not surprising sidelight is that six of the eight boxers who appeared on the undercard were also Jewish.
Terris was considered the favorite to replace the recently retired lightweight champion Benny Leonard. But in a 1925 tournament to name Leonard’s successor, he lost a close decision to another master boxer—future lightweight champion Sammy Mandell. Their previous fight, a year earlier, had ended in a 10-round draw.
Over the next two years Terris lost only two of 30 bouts. Among the top men he defeated were Billy Petrolle, Babe Herman, Ace Hudkins, and former junior lightweight champ Jack Bernstein. In a Polo Grounds match that attracted over 50,000 fans, he met ghetto rival Ruby Goldstein. Terris was tagged by Ruby’s powerful right cross in the first round and was floored for a nine-count. As Ruby, “The Jewel of the Ghetto,” rushed to flatten Terris, “The Ghetto Ghost” landed a perfectly timed right to Ruby’s jaw that put him down for the full count.
In 1928 Terris was knocked out in the first round by Jimmy McLarnin. There was no disgrace in losing to McLarnin, an all-time great fighter, but two months later Sid’s fans became alarmed when young Ray Miller duplicated McLarnin’s feat.
Terris was a veteran of over 100 bouts and appeared to be past his prime. This was confirmed when other opponents who a year earlier could not hit him with a bucketful of rice were now able to get close enough to score. In 1931—his last year as a pro—he struggled against two mediocre opponents. If Terris continued fighting he would be fodder for up-and-coming youngsters wanting to build their reputation with a victory over the once-great “Ghetto Ghost.”
At age 27 he knew it was time to hang up his gloves and dancing shoes. After he retired, the popular and personable ex-prizefighter secured a job as headwaiter at one of New York City’s premier restaurants.
On November 19, 1928, in his 43rd professional bout, New York’s Phil Tobias entered the golden circle of top 10 challengers for the flyweight title by outpointing future champion Midget Wolgast. That victory was Tobias’s greatest achievement as a boxer. Unfortunately, his flaw as a fighter was an inability to remain consistent against top competition—including Wolgast, who he lost to twice in five outings. (The other two bouts with Wolgast consisted of a no-decision and a draw.) Yet, just when it seemed he would be dropped from the ratings, Tobias would bounce back with an impressive victory over a tough contender, as he did against Ruby Bradley and Johnny McCoy. The results of those fights point to a world-class fighter who was better than his overall record would indicate.
In 1931, with his career winding down, Tobias traveled to Caracas, Venezuela, and lost a close 10-round decision to future bantamweight champion Sixto Escobar. He finished out his career in South America, winning seven of his last 15 bouts.
In a 1935 article that appeared in the New York Enquirer, Ray Arcel, the dean of American boxing trainers, stated the following: “When it came to all-around ring generalship, Benny Valgar was on a par with Benny Leonard, though Leonard packed the better punch.” I interviewed Ray Arcel in 1978. He still reserved the highest praise for both fighters. “I’ve seen every great fighter from 1915 to the present, and to me, [Benny] Leonard was the best,” said Arcel. “He was, without question, the fastest-thinking fighter I ever saw. I class one other fighter with him as far as cleverness, and that was Benny Valgar.”
Benny’s parents had emigrated to France from Russia in 1894. In 1913 his widowed mother took Benny and his four siblings to New York City.
Valgar turned pro in 1916 following a successful amateur career that included winning the national AAU bantamweight title. Four years later he received his first and only title shot when he fought the great featherweight champion Johnny Kilbane in an eight-round no-decision bout in Newark, New Jersey. (New Jersey boxing regulations did not permit bouts beyond eight rounds.) The following day 11 of 13 newspaper reporters who witnessed the bout wrote that Valgar had narrowly outpointed the champion. But their opinion did not matter. The only way the title could have changed hands was by a knockout.
In 1925 Valgar was considered the heir apparent to recently retired lightweight champion Benny Leonard. He was the favorite among 50 top lightweights invited to compete in a tournament to find a successor to Leonard. In his first three tournament bouts Valgar dazzled audiences with easy victories over Alex Hart, Basil Galiano, and Solly Seeman, each one a highly regarded contender. But his 12-round semifinal resulted in a surprise loss to Jimmy Goodrich (the eventual tournament winner).
“The French Flash” had proven his superiority over Goodrich in a previous fight, and the upset puzzled fans and sportswriters. The New York Times reported that Valgar’s showing “was far below the form expected of him.” Up to that time the only fighter to win a clear points victory over Valgar was the famed “Ghetto Ghost,” Sid Terris, perhaps the only lightweight in the world faster than Valgar.
Even as his career wound down, Valgar’s superb defensive skills—he was a master at blocking and parrying blows—kept him from taking the type of ruinous punishment so common to his profession. Other than a slightly flattened nose, his face bore none of the facial scars prevalent among his contemporaries. His official ledger shows 215 documented professional bouts, although the actual number is believed to be higher. He is one of only two fighters with more than 200 bouts to have never been knocked out or stopped (the other is Jewish boxer Harry Stone). Recognition of Benny Valgar as one of the greatest boxers of all time is long overdue.
After he retired in 1932, Valgar and his wife settled in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn, and opened a dress shop in the Brownsville section of that borough.
Sammy Vogel was another outstanding Jewish boxer out of New York’s Lower East Side. As an amateur bantamweight he represented the United States at the 1920 Antwerp Olympic Games, where he lost a decision in his second tournament bout. Expectations were very high for the young boxer when he turned pro two months later. The Ring magazine called him a “pocket edition of Benny Leonard.” As a pro he scored impressive victories over Mike Dundee, Billy Petrolle, Mickey Travers, and Bucky Lawless. But his road to a title shot was stymied by losses to future lightweight champion Jimmy Goodrich and top contenders Hilario Martinez and Bruce Flowers (three times).
Over the course of his 16-year career Philadelphia’s Eddie “Kid” Wagner faced seven world champions 12 times. Ring greats who crossed his path include Jack Bernstein, Johnny Dundee, Louis “Kid” Kaplan, Sammy Mandell, and Sid Terris.
In 1925 Wagner was one of 50 lightweight boxers invited to participate in a tournament to determine a successor to retired champion Benny Leonard. His first bout against Jimmy Goodrich at Madison Square Garden ended in a 10-round draw. Officials ordered two more “overtime” rounds. Goodrich was awarded the decision and went on to win the tournament four months later.
The only fighter able to KO Wagner in his prime was the great Billy Petrolle, who stopped him in the 10th round in 1926. Just one month later Wagner fought a 10-round non-title draw with featherweight champion Louis “Kid” Kaplan.
Wagner’s career began winding down in the late 1920s. But, like most fighters, he continued to fight on and paid the price. Between 1929 and 1931 Wagner won only two of 17 fights. In the last three months of his career he was knocked out by highly rated contenders Harry Dublinsky, Tony Herrera, and future lightweight champion Al Singer. Five of Wagner’s seven knockout defeats took place during the last two years of his career.
In 1922, just three years after turning pro, Archie Walker was rushed into bouts against top lightweight contenders Benny Valgar, Phil Salvadore, Clonie Tait, and Jack Bernstein. He lost to all except Bernstein, who he managed to outpoint in their first bout, but who then beat him in two subsequent rematches.
With added experience Walker continued to improve, and was victorious over the likes of Mel Coogan, Andy Chaney, and Johnny Shugrue. In 1924 he fought a 10-round no-decision bout with future lightweight champion Sammy Mandell. All four newspapers covering the bout reported a draw.
In 1927 Archie traveled to London, where he lost a 15-round decision to former British welterweight champion Harry Mason. All of Walker’s 17 losses were to outstanding boxers with winning records.
After he retired Archie worked for a Wall Street clearinghouse. In later years he was employed by the Ford Motor Company.
Unlike most other Jewish pugilists, Eddie “Kid” Wolfe did not begin his boxing career in a major East Coast city. Eddie was born and raised in Memphis, Tennessee, where he had his first professional fight in 1927. In less than two years he established a reputation as one of the finest lightweight boxers in the South. Eddie fought 40 main events in New Orleans when that city was a hotbed of boxing activity. His rythmic fluid boxing style appealed to the “Big Easy” locals.
In 1929 former contender Phil McGraw and ancient ring legend Johnny Dundee were imported to New Orleans to test the undefeated youngster. Eddie was way too fast for the aging veterans, and outpointed both. Wolfe’s handlers then decided to match him with Tony Canzoneri, the recently dethroned featherweight champion. Canzoneri walked off with a unanimous decision.
Next up was another former featherweight champion, Louis “Kid” Kaplan, who was rated the number-three lightweight in the world. “The Meridian Buzzsaw” overwhelmed Wolfe and stopped him in the seventh round.
Undeterred by his first knockout defeat, Wolfe continued with his career and gained valuable experience. He eventually achieved a top-10 rating in both the lightweight and welterweight divisions by defeating Matt Brock, Joe Glick, King Tut, Harry Dublinsky, Eddie Ran, and Tracey Cox. He also had two draws with Baby Joe Gans and Mike Dundee. Nearing the end of his career, he went 1-1-1 (win, loss, and draw) against future middleweight champion Teddy Yarosz.
In 97 pro fights, only two opponents were able to stop him: the aforementioned Louis “Kid” Kaplan and hard-punching lightweight contender Billy Wallace. After his active boxing career was over, Eddie kept his hand in the sport by working as a boxing judge and referee.
Toronto’s Norman “Baby” Yack was one of Canada’s greatest amateur boxers. The Russianborn bantamweight won 90 of 100 bouts before earning a place on the Canadian National boxing team that was to compete in the 1936 Berlin Olympic Games. But Norman and his parents were deeply distressed by the German government’s treatment of Jews, and decided to boycott the Nazi Olympics. Joining in the boycott was his friend and teammate Sammy Luftspring.
After their protest was made public, both fighters were invited to represent Canada in an alternate Olympic games in Barcelona, Spain. They were in southern France, waiting for a boat to take them to Barcelona, when the games were canceled due to the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War.
Baby Yack turned pro in September 1936. Less than a year into his pro career he won the Canadian bantamweight title by outpointing Frankie Martin. He defeated Martin in a return bout, and then won two out of three against Henry Hook, a vastly more experienced bantamweight contender. The following year he whipped fourth-ranked Indian Quintana. The series of victories moved him into the upper echelon of title challengers.
Achieving a top-10 rating in those days was never easy, but staying there was even tougher. In 1938, following two decisions over Spider Armstrong, he lost to former flyweight champion Small Montana and highly rated contender Georgie Pace. After scoring a KO over Lefty Gwynne, Yack was knocked out by featherweight contender Bobby Ivy (the only KO defeat of his career).
The following year he lost two out of three bouts to Lou Transparenti, and was outpointed by Nicky Jerome and Harry Jeffra (Jeffra won the featherweight title in his next fight).
Perhaps his quick burnout was due to being brought along too fast against extremely tough competition. Most of his opponents were seasoned journeymen or world-ranked contenders. Nevertheless, in his brief three-year pro career, Baby Yack established an impressive record against some of the best fighters of his era.
After he retired Yack is believed to have worked as a cab driver in Montreal.
Footnote
* A “doctored” glove is one that has been illegally tampered with to make it more damaging to an opponent. It is a serious breach of the rules.