Jack Dempsey: The Sudden Rush Of Greatness

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Jack Dempsey: The Sudden Rush Of Greatness
23.07.08 - By Mike Casey : Suddenly it all clicked. All the pieces of the jigsaw fell intoplace and Jack Dempsey was flying, ripping and barnstorming his wayto a fight with Jess Willard for the heavyweight championship ofthe world.

After all the mining camp brawls, after all the hobo struggles andsaloon fights and a sometimes brutal apprenticeship in the ring ofrules and regulations, the rare diamond had been polished to asparkle.

The wise men like Jack Kearns, Teddy Hayes and Spider Kelley hadknown it all along. Now the others knew it too. They could see andunderstand the very exceptional talent that was Jack Dempsey.

The bronzed and muscled youngster had seemed to toil for an age ashe hacked his way through the vast field of competition from themountains and the deserts of the Old West to the Old Fun City ofNew York. . There had been spectacular knockouts, laboured and hard-foughtvictories and the occasional setbacks. Dempsey was never happy withhis own work and it riled him that his successes went largelyunnoticed in boxings sprawling heartland of America, where greatchampions and great contenders teemed from every nook and cranny.

Jack judged himself by a tough and eternally self-criticalbarometer. Every niggling, tactical error made him fume withfrustration. In his own mind, he was getting nowhere fast by theclose of 1917. Why couldnt he knock out Gunboat Smith? Why did healways struggle with that fat guy they called a clown, SlapperWillie Meehan? After a life-and-death struggle with the Gunboat atthe Mission Baseball Park in San Francisco, Dempsey stood in hisdressing room in despair, humbled and apologetic.

There was so much commotion going on that manager Jack Kearns andsecond Spider Kelley couldnt hear him at first.

I guess Im no match for Gunboat, Dempsey said. Im real sorry Ilet you guys down. Im not what you thought I was.

When he looked up, Kearns and Kelley were staring at him in blankdisbelief. Kid, you won! Kearns said. The Gunboat hit you with aright and I thought itd kill you, but you nearly killed him!

Spider Kelley nodded his approval and added, Youre in, kid.Youre in! What the hell are you apologising for? Save that for theGunboat, kid. Youre going to be the next champion!

Dempsey had finally shed his learner plates. He was about to embarkon the knockout run that would take him all the way to a title shotat Willard in the searing, Independence Day heat of Toledo in 1919.Has there ever been a run quite like it? From 1918, Dempsey blitzedvirtually every man who came to test him. He packed nearly 30recorded fights into that intense, nineteenth-month period andpossibly several more that have yet to be unearthed. Full ofblazing confidence, Jack barnstormed in the run-up to Willard,daring all-comers to challenge him.

Jack never could fully figure out the infuriating conundrum thatwas Willie Meehan, but plenty of prize scalps went on the Maulersbelt as he tore through Fireman Jim Flynn, Bill Brennan, ArthurPelkey and Carl Morris.

When Dempsey hooked up with Gunboat Smith again at Buffalo inDecember 1918, the chilling slaughter that took place wasportentous of things to come. The Gunboat was decked seven timesand wrecked in two rounds.

Such was Dempseys reputation by this time that huge money waswagered by Buffalo gamblers on how many rounds Smith would last.The majority of Jacks followers bet on a win inside four.

Before entering the ring, Gunboat Smith told reporters that herated Dempsey a great heavyweight and was sure that Jack woulddefeat Jess Willard. This fellow Dempsey has everything. Dempseyis poison. He has youth, strength, gameness and a good head. He issome scrapper.

But it wasnt the Smith fight that got the tongues wagging and thetypewriters tapping.

Back in the summer of that year, on July 27 at Harrison, NewJersey, Jack had conceded nearly twenty pounds to the hard-hittingFred Fulton and destroyed him in just a fraction over eighteenseconds. A sharp intake of breath was heard across America and notjust from the easily impressed.

When Fulton crashed to the canvas, writer Robert Edgren was sittingclose enough at ringside to be able to reach out and touch thefallen giant. Edgren, as knowledgeable and eloquent a scribe asthere ever was on boxing, was objective yet lavish in his praisefor the lithe and vicious young tiger of a man who had inflictedthe damage.

Now Edgren completely understood what sparring partner Chief Turnerhad said of Dempsey. This is the most wonderful fighter I haveever seen, revealed the Chief. I think I have done mighty well tolast through a week of training with him. Hes an awful hitter.

Edgren wrote: Dempsey makes the same impression on trainer orfighter. He is not a boxer in the ordinary sense of the word. Andyet it is foolish to say that he doesnt know how to box. He is anatural boxer. He uses his hands as naturally as a tiger uses itsclaws.

The Dempsey fight against Fulton was the finest exhibition of thefighting art that I have ever seen, for Dempsey didnt waste asingle movement in the short time it lasted. His action was thesoul of simplicity. And fighting effectiveness isnt in thestep-and-tap-and-block taught by boxing instructors, but in directaction along the lines of mechanical force.

Bob Fitzsimmons was the greatest master of that. And if thisDempsey lad continues as he has begun, he will eclipse even thegreat Bob.

Emphasising Dempseys economy of movement, Edgren noted that theMauler covered the minimum of ground in the short time it took himto bomb out Fulton. Jack was careful to come out of his corner alittle slower than big Fred. Dempsey had advanced just four or fiveshort steps as Fulton met him and missed with a jab. Jack movedforward one step. Fulton tried to tie him up, but as Dempseywrenched his arms free he fired a left upwards to Fultons head.The punch travelled no more than a foot but jerked Freds head backand shook him badly. The big man moved out to long range andstarted backing up towards the ropes. He managed to get a lock onDempseys arms for a few seconds before breaking away andretreating across the ring to his own corner. Jack pivoted andadvanced three or four steps to within hitting range. It was thenthat Robert Edgren observed something that intrigued him.

Dempsey has a trick of shifting that is similar to that ofFitzsimmons and Stanley Ketchel, except that Jack doesnt reversehis footing but merely drops his left shoulder back beyond theright and then puts the pivoting swing of his whole body into atwo-foot blow.

Dropping that left shoulder back, Dempsey drove his left fist intoFultons body. It was a tremendous blow and Fulton caved in at thewaist. Instantly Dempsey whipped another left up to Fultons head,knocking him over sideways, and quicker than a flash shot hisstraight right across to Fultons jaw. Fulton fell, completelyknocked out, struck in a half-hitting position, neck against theropes and went on until he lay flat on his shoulder blades.

Teddy Hayes

Teddy Hayes had some kind of portfolio as a trainer. Among thelegends he handled were Mickey Walker, Jack Johnson, BattlingNelson, Ad Wolgast, Joe Gans, Stanley Ketchel, Billy Papke, TigerFlowers, Jack Britton, Benny Leonard, Freddie Welsh, Johnny Dundee,Pete Herman and Lou Brouillard.

Who did Hayes consider to be the greatest of them all? JackDempsey. As early as 1915, Hayes saw the enormous potential thatwas steadily taking shape. Dempsey had meanness. He had heart.Anyone who knocked down Dempsey soon discovered they made amistake. When Jack got up, that always meant his opponents doom.Whether he slipped or was hit, he would be up at the count of twowith murder on his mind. He was the perfect fighting machine. Therewere times when he didnt seem at all human.

Dempsey, of course was moulded and fired in an astonishingly toughera that bred exceptionally tough men. The good old days? No, wewouldnt want to see their like again. There were too manyinjustices, too many illnesses and most people didnt live to agreat age. It is simply a fact of life that hard times represent afertile soil for producing fighting men. What greater motivation isthere than to simply eat? Dempsey and many others knew what it waslike to go without a meal.

In his later years, Jack could only guess at how many official andsemi-official fights he had between 1911 and 1916. The recordbooks dont contain them, he said, and I couldnt name the numberor identify all the faces today if my life depended on doing it.Id guess a hundred. But thats still a guess.

Boxing historian Mike Hunnicut, who had many conversations withTeddy Hayes, points out: Teddy wasnt a good old days guy. Hewas always looking to tomorrow and the betterment of boxing. But hequite rightly observed that the excellent athletes forged fromhunger and poverty began to disappear when life got easier andtelevision helped to kill off the thousands of fight clubs.

There were suddenly fewer fights and fewer fighters. As aconsequence, there werent nearly as many fighters who had thatinherent anger and ferocity. Other sports became popular and youngmen didnt have to box for a living.

Going through my notes from my various chats with Teddy, he saidthat Dempsey was the most perfect puncher with the most perfecthands ever. He was a very fast, instinctive athlete, a greatnatural fighter with perfect co-ordination and timing.

He could take a punch  a real punch  and not ever be aware hewas hit. He was able to take fighters apart when he was out on hisfeet  as he was in the first Gunboat Smith fight  like no otherfighter ever. His hands were not just huge, they were incrediblystrong and the hardest fists Hayes had ever seen. Every fighter hastrouble with his hands at some time or another. Dempsey didnt.They were the perfect weapons.

Jack Kearns knew Dempsey was a hell of a fighter. He wasabsolutely certain that nothing could stop Jack after seeing himrally from that big shot from the Gunboat. Kearns saw that therewas no quit in Dempsey.

Teddy Hayes saw these qualities in Dempsey before Kearns did afterwatching Jack knock out miners and the bully boys of the bar rooms.

I would say that the nearest thing to Dempsey in modern times, foran iron chin and unbelievable resilience, was Matthew SaadMuhammad. But Jack of course was far more talented than Saad andprobably even tougher.

Nat Fleischer

Nat Fleischer was another who noticed these almost surrealqualities in Dempsey and the fact that Jack was an almost uniqueamalgam of boxer and fighter. Fleischer could never sufficientlyexpress just how thrilling it was to watch the prime Dempsey fromringside.

Reflecting on Jack in 1968, Fleischer wrote: Dempsey representedthe true fighting man. He was a destroyer, a demon once he gotunder way. When the bell sounded, a wild man was unleashed. Flayingfists reached their targets early and often. His teeth bared, hesprang into action bent on destruction. He represented undeniableforce.

I have heard sports writers declare that a fight between Dempseyand Marciano, each in his prime, would have resulted in the mostthrilling, hard hitting affair in ring history. I agree. But Idisagree with those who at the same time, declared that Rocky, in apunch-for-punch attack, would have stopped Manassa Jack.

The fight would not have lasted long enough for Marciano to springsuch an attack as he did when he fought Jersey Joe Walcott andstopped him in the thirteenth round, and against Archie Moore, whomRocky halted in the ninth.

Dempsey in his prime would have stopped Walcott and Moore beforethe fifth got underway.
Joe Louis, as a power hitter, was the equal of Dempsey. But whilethe Brown Bomber had to get set before slinging his punches,Manassa Jack at his peak tore in and unleashed an attack that wasbewildering and invincible.

Dempsey, with his bobbing and weaving style, was not easy to hitwith solid punches. He knew the tricks of the game and put theminto operation with crafty execution. In that, he was superior tomost of those who followed him.

Jack possessed steel fists and an iron jaw. His blows wereexplosive, much like those of Benny Leonard.

Dempsey drove his remarkable punching power from a pair ofsplendid hands, big-boned and boasting a squareness across theknuckles that does not belong to the average individual, a welldeveloped wrist and forearm and great strength in the hittingmuscles of the upper arm, shoulder and back. He also possessed theimportant faculty of proper leverage, brought the muscles of hislegs as well as his upper body into play and got both weight andimpetus behind his blows.

Perhaps Jacks chief punching asset was a perfect co-ordinationbetween mind and muscle, the ability to bring instant andoverwhelming stress upon any movement. He had a wonderful hittinginstinct.

Dempsey could take it and dish it out. The big punch and theability to take a solid one are the assets that count most inwinning a fight. Jack possessed both. He also was quick inrecovery.
Dempsey might be likened to a combination of a polar bear and apanther. Strong as the first.

Agile as the second. Fast as a top welterweight, and that includesRay Robinson, one of the greatest in that category.

Dempseys style of attack was always a good defence. It preventedan opponent accustomed mostly to ring cleverness or slow motion orusing a shuffling style for infighting, from penetrating thedefence with fair effectiveness.

The Carl Morris thing

After blitzing Gunboat Smith in their second match at Buffalo, JackDempsey held court in his hotel to a small and select group ofjournalists. The heir apparent to the throne wanted to put therecord straight on the one man who got under his skin more than anyother: big Carl Morris from Kentucky. Try as he did, Dempsey couldnever warm to Morris. There was friction between the two menwhenever they crossed paths, right from the days when Jack wasCarls sparring partner.

Morris had a condescending manner about him and a caustic sense ofhumour to match. Every time he opened his mouth, Dempsey bridled.Now Jack had finally shut him up. Just two weeks before despatchingGunboat Smith, Dempsey had conceded 35lbs to crush Morris in oneround at New Orleans. Finally, a ghost had been laid to rest.

Jack had already posted two wins over Carl, outpointing the giantat San Francisco and winning by disqualification in their secondmeeting in Buffalo. But neither result was good enough for thesize-obsessed experts of the age, who refused to believe that aDavid could whip a Goliath and then rubbished the evidence when itwas presented.

Morris paid a visit to Dempseys dressing room before their secondfight. It was a bad mistake. Tense and irritable, Jack roared, Getoutta here, you cheap bastard, or Ill flatten you right now!

Dempsey didnt get his chance that night. Morris, sensing a lostcause, got himself thrown out in the sixth round after winging onesouth of the border and re-arranging Jacks wedding tackle. ButJack surely did flatten Carl in the final instalment of theirill-tempered trilogy.

Here is what Dempsey told those few reporters on the final day of1918: Going down to New Orleans, I had two days time to thinkthings over. I boxed Morris in Buffalo and knew his style prettywell. But I realised he was tough. I made up my mind not to takeunnecessary chances as the New Orleans fight was booked for 20rounds. I figured it out that Morris would want to stick the limitand that hed play a defensive game and make me carry the fight tohim  that he would wrestle in the clinches and make me carry hisweight and try to get me tired. Its no cinch, you know, to lug abig guy like him around for six or eight rounds.

Going down on the train, I doped it out this way: Id let Morrisset the pace, nailing him when he left openings but never going inand mixing with him. What I planned to do was outbox him and waitfor a chance to sink the ship.

When the referee calls us to the centre of the ring, Morris was sopolite I became suspicious. It was Jack this and Jack that. HeJacked me to death. When we get our instructions from the refereeand are going back to our corners for the first bell, Morris yellsout so everybody could hear him, Make this a clean fight, Jack, norough stuff.

Out we come, Morris laughing and leading with his left. It fellshort. I tapped him with a left on the nose. He keeps on laughing.He swings his right. I duck and he grabs me. Right off the reel hestarts the rough stuff The moment he got hold of me, what does hedo but rush me across the ring and slam me into the ropes, throwingall his weight on me and rubbing my back ten or fifteen feet alongthe top rope You know what that does, dont you? Just burns yourback, thats all. And theres the guy who says make it a cleanfight.

The referee was wise and cautioned Morris. Morris excused himselfand we break. I hooked him with a left to the chin. He was hurt. Helost his noodle, I guess, for he rushes in and grabs me again,though I tried to pull away from him. He got a good hold, likeZbyszko (the wrestler) and slams me into one of the corners.

He puts one of his ham-like hands against my forehead anddeliberately tried to jam my head back over the ropes so my skullwould hit the iron post. Trying to knock me out that way. Bumstuff.

The referee rushes in, yelling at Morris to quit trying to foul. Iyelled at the referee to let him go. Ill take care of him, saysI as we break away. I lost all regard for Morris. I tore loose,driving a left to the pit of his stomach with every ounce ofstrength I had, and as he doubled up and begins to sink to thefloor, I whipped my right to his chin and he went down like a log.Both his feet were up in the air. The referee counted ten and itwas a long, generous count too.

I dont think I ever hit a man as hard as I belted Morris in thestomach. Say, that referee could have counted a hundred. Morrisdidnt move. His seconds dragged him to his corner.

I went over to shake his hand, willing to let bygones be bygones,but I got an awful shock.
Morris was as white as milk and as limp as a rag. His lips werepurple. On the square, I thought he was done for. I was never sofrightened in my life. You know, I dont want to hurt no man. Iturned in and helped his seconds revive him. We worked over him forfour minutes before he opened his eyes. I was a happy lad when helooks up and I see hes all right.

You see, I went in planning to box him six or eight rounds, butwhen he tried to burn my back on the ropes and knock my headagainst the iron post  well, no man is going to do that to me andget away with it. Morris made me knock him out in two minutes.

Seven months after Morris, Dempsey would take his controlled furyto Toledo and brutally sever Jess Willards grip on the heavyweightchampionship.

Life And Death

There were many titanic struggles for Jack Dempsey before theeventual glories and riches of the roped square. He sent a fellowhobo flying into the wilderness after a vicious brawl on top of afast moving freight train, never knowing whether it had literallybeen a fight to the death.
It had been a battle of survival, one cameo among the many smallwars of the hobo jungle. Hungry and desperate men waged suchperilous fights constantly in that stark and ferocious era.

There was another occasion when Jack wasnt so fortunate, as helater recalled: I hopped a freight train moving out of GrandJunction, Colorado, one cold afternoon, right after running awayfrom home. I was headed for Delta, forty miles away. I had justgrabbed the ladder when a railroad man on top of the freightspotted me.

He had a long broomstick in his hand, like a cops billy. Heyelled at me to jump off. I couldnt. The train had picked up toomuch speed. So, very systematically, and while the train picked upmore speed, he kept belting me with that club and split open myhead. I jumped or fell off, crashing face down in the cinders alongthe way. I thought Id never stop rolling.
I walked the forty miles to Delta while the blood dried.

This was Jack Dempseys grounding in life. These were the battleshe fought before his boxing career even began. Quite literally,hundreds. Is it any wonder that he was so special? He was stillslugging out street muggers in his old age.

I remain convinced that this incredible man, at his irresistiblebest, would have taken the measure of any heavyweight in boxinghistory.

Mike Casey is a boxing journalist and historian.. He is a member ofthe International Boxing Research Organization (IBRO), an auxiliarymember of the Boxing Writers Association of America and founder andeditor of the Grand Slam Premium Boxing Service for historians andfans (www.grandslampage.net).
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