BOXING

New Zealand Illustrated Sporting & Dramatic Review, Issue 1289, 7 January 1915, Page 28

BOXING

GREAT AUSTRALIAN FIGHTERS.

JACKSON, SLAVIN, AND HALL.

INTERESTING REMINISCENCES

Charlie Mitchell, the one-time famous English heavyweight boxer, who was clever to a degree and a great fighter, had the tap of reminiscence turned on m London recently, and told some very interesting stories concerning the past, among them a few relating to those great Australian boxers Peter Jackson, Frank Slavin, and Jim Hall. It might be mentioned that Mitchell virtually defeated John L. Sullivan, when the Sullivan boom was big, at Chantilly, France, on March 10, 1888, but was robbed of the position that success would have placed him in through one or more of his seconds entering into an agreement with those in the hostile angle to call the affair a draw after 39 rounds had gone. Sullivan was in a pitiable plight. That battle took place in the open air, under Marquis of Queensberry laws. Previously—five years before —Mitchell faced the mighty Sullivan at Mad.son Square Gardens, New York, and afcer John had been knocked down the affair degenerated into much of a brawl, with the big fellow (Sullivan) doing the most harmful things. A police officer commanded a halt at the close of the third round. IVLcchell, referring to the Slavin-Jack-son fight, which was decided at the National Sporting Club, London, on May 30, 1892, speaks of a quarrel he had in America just before with the one-time Maitland blacksmith (Slavin) and says: — “The morning after the fracas I said to him, ‘We will cross over to England together as though nothing had happened, and when we arrive we will each go his own way; there is plenty of room for both of us without our meeting. 1 think you have a fairly easy job with Peter Jackson if you get fit, and the money will do you good.’ At that time he was fairly flush of money, and I, knowing and respecting his wife —and a dear little woman she was —added, ‘lf you get the winning end with Jackson see you settle some money on your wife.’ 1 said th s knowing what a mug he was at betting—a pastime he was very fond of, always thinking he had the best of the deal, and never realising what he thought; he hadn’t the head for a games.er and would have lost the BaiiK of England if someone had given it to him to play with. A GREAT WELCOME. “On arr.ving at Euston we were weicomeu by a great crowd. We adjourned co the Drummond Castle, our wives, Eugene and Mrs. Stratton, Mr. and Mrs. Pony Moore accompanying us. We had a few bottles of wine, and 1 shook hands with Slavin and wished him well, and never saw him aga.n unt.l a week prior to his fight with Peter Jackson. He wrote me ask.ng me to get him a plaster, and I did so and took it to his training quarters at Dovercourt, Essex. His tramers were his brother Jack and Tom Burrows, of club swinging fame — one of the n.cest little gentlemen I have ever run into. Burrows is the Australian who lowered world’s records as a club swinger—a straight, clean, truthful, humble little sport, and it’s a pity he cannot find something better to do than attack-nature the way he does in his long periods of club swmging which serve no good purpose, and will wreck him if he does not stop. He was no mean performer with the gloves, and as a trainer had no equals. It would be a good thing for the army if he would drop club swinging and devote himself to picking and training boxing champions; the army couldn’t get a better man.” A HORRIBLE HIDING. “Slavin was a man who loved his own way in training, and could only be handled properly by a man good enough and big enough to stand up to him and give him as good as he brought. When I called at his quarters he was at dinner, and had a junk of boiled beef and a quart of ale, which he used to drink copiously, and when he had finished his ale he put on a big cigar. I told him how fool-

ish he was, and what the contest meant to him, but he absolutely thought it was like eating pie for him to fight Jackson. I knew differently, as the negro was a much superior class of animal in every respect, and had fully a stone the best of the weights; as a manipulator of the gloves he could lose Slavin at any end of the game, bar soLd punching. “When they fought in the National Sporting Club Jackson gave Slavin a horrible hiding. I don’t want to reflect on the men in his corner, but I must say he was very badly seconded, whilst Jackson had the sage advice of Parson Davis, one of the coolest and shrewdest men living, and Joe Choynski, a veteran at the game. Possibly it would have made no difference who was behind Slavin, but there was one fateful moment when a man in his corner who could have influenced him might have landed him a winner; it was the only time he had a chance in the battle. He landed an awful right-handed dig in the wind, and Jackson went clean to pieces and seemed literally helpless; but Slavin threw away his chances, fighting wildly for the jaw, and going weak in his efforts. The black rallied, and from that out made every post

a winning-post; he battered the white man to pieces, until he hung on the ropes a sickening specimen of hammered humanity.

“He went down at last near the ropes and the fight was over, Jackson winning fairly and squarely. I went next day to Slavin’s home to see him, and he looked a gruesome spectacle, his face being battered beyond recognition. He said, ‘lf you had been n my corner, Charlie, I’d have won.’ 1 replied, ‘That’s too late now.’ His wife remarked to me, ‘I begged liim not to fight without having you in his corner, as you understand him so well.’

“He only won one event after that, and for that fight I trained and seconded him, and he fought well. This was with the negro Frank Craig, known as the Coffee Cooler, and he got his own coffee cooled that night. This chap had been bouncing about London as if he owned the earth, but when Slavin whipped his heavy right across on to his jaw he thought the roof of the world had fallen on him, and he was a very chastened nigger ever afterwards. “The Slavin-Jacks on battle took place in 1892. I had now really given up fighting, and spent most of my time racing with Squire Abington, but followed everything fistic with interest. THE ADVENT OF JIM HALL. “Jim Hall, of Australia, had come to England with Parson Davis, and

as the ‘parson’ could not stay in England he asked me to take an interest in Jim, saying he was the best man of his weight alive —in fact, he said he was a wonder. Choynski, also a protege of the ‘parson,’ had been giving exhibitions with Jim, and Hall had a challenge out to best any man in four rounds or forfeit £lOO. Hall was a tall, slim-looking chap, the last in the world to be taken in the street for a champion pugilist. We became great pals, for he was a genial, lovable fellow, without an atom of conceit and always willing to learn. He improved every time he put the gloves on, and in the end when in condition he was a marvel.

“The public were fed up with exhibitions, and I asked him if he’d like to fight Ted Pritchard for the middleweight championship of England. He smiled his eternal smile and said, ‘Sure, Charlie!’ At that time England looked on Pritchard as a world-whip-per at the weight, as he had ‘outed’ all his opponents so early; but when I had had the gloves on with Jim Hall I knew it was a walk-over for my slender, gentlemanly-looking scrapper. Seldom has the world seen a greater take-down; he hadn’t a particle of muscle showing on h's body,

and his flesh was like a girl’s, even when in condition.

“Hall was showing at the Novelty Theatre, Queen Street, one night when a big nigger came after the £100; his end came very quickly. Hall slipped his right on the point and laid him to sleep. He used to hit so easily, he never seemed to hit hard. In the bar after the show Navvy Peel said the show was a fake, and the coon had laid down. I told him he knew nothing of the game or he wouldn’t say so. He then asked, ‘ls Pritchard included in that £lOO challenge you have in the papers for Hall to beat any middleweight in four rounds?’ I said, ‘Yes, certainly.’ This led to the making of a match between the two men, I putting £lOO up as forfeit in the hands of Bob Watson, the well-known sporting writer, and Peel doing the same. The match was for £lOOO. I had made the match on behalf of Squire Abington, who was sore on Pritchard as he had backed Jem Smith against him for £5OO, and Pritchard had knocked him out in a round.

THE PRITCHARD-JIM HALL FIGHT.

“Next day we each deposited £4OO, and ratified the affair on the following Saturday. I dined with the Squire and Teddy Bailey, his private secretary, and the Squire broached the subject of the match, saying he would pull back, as it was making a present to Pritchard. This caused the first and only quarrel I ever had with

the squire. He passed some remarks which I resented, and I lost my temper and shook him. I then said, ‘Don’t speak to me again,” and I left. I was in such a temper I was afraid of myself. I went on with the match, Hall and I going to my house, 34, King’s Road, and I never left him until after the fight. They had to weigh in at list. 41b.

“This was easy for Hall, as he could fight good and strong at list. We worked together, and as he knew nothing of gymnastics I taught him. We boxed daily, and the man delighted me —he never had to be shown a thing twice; besides, he was very grateful and affectionate, always calling me ‘Dad.’ Many is the good dig we gave each other, for we did not play, and often we boxed for 20 minutes at a time; if left to himself or with a man he did not look up to, Hall would not work an hour, and he loved the good things of life; but with me he was all that I could desire; if he hadn’t been there would have been a fight every day. “Four or five days before the fight the Squire sent Teddy Bailey to me with a note asking me to call on him at the Royal Albion. I refused to go, but Bailey talked me into it, and at

last I went He had taken the whole of the first floor, for he always did things au prince; there wasn’t a mean bone in his body. He asked me to dinner; I refused, saying, “I always eat with my man.’ He remarked laughingly, ‘Pritchard will punch a hole in him.’ I said, ‘lt looks like it from the way they’re betting, they’re laying five to one on Pritchard, but there’s many a slip ’twlxt cup and lip, Squire.’ We chaffed a bit, and he said, ‘l’ll lay you five monkeys.’ I pulled out my cheque-book saying, ‘l’ll take it, but I’d sooner win it off someone else.’ He waved my cheque-book aside, remarking, ‘You can trust me, can’t you, Charlie?’ I answered, ‘Sure I can but I wish it was someone else’s money I was winning.’ He laughed and said, ‘You haven’t won it yet.’ I held out my hand in farewell, but he was hurt, saying, ‘Don’t go like that Charlie, lad, or I’ll think you haven’t forgiven me; let’s crack one bottle for old time’s sake.’ I was delighted, for let the world say what it will he had a heart of gold. We had a bottle, and whilst we drank he told me how he came to pull out of the match. He said that when riding at Windsor on the afternoon of our quarrel the gang got to him and asked him what he meant by backing a d foreigner against an English champion; they used threats, and as he was rather a timid man they got their way. I took a mental note of the names he mentioned, and some

time later I gave them something by which to remember the threats they had used to the Squire and against me.

“This battle for the middleweight championship of England took place at the training establishment kept by Rosser, the ring being pitched in the paddock, only ticket-holders being admitted, no charge being made for the tickets. It was fought in a 24ft. ring on a platform surrounded by stone walls. There was no trouble of any kind; everything went as merrily as a marriage bell. The men entered the ring at 11.25 on the morning of a very hot day. Mr. Bob Watson was referee. They fought with 4oz. gloves. HALL’S NONCHALANCE.

“At the start Hall appeared to me to be taking things a bit too easily; he strolled leisurely across as cool as a cucumber and shook hands, and the men returned to their corners. At the call of time Hall glided towards Pritchard and at once planted his left on the face with a short jolt; Pritchard at once tried with both hands, but was a long way shore, Hall gliding backwards with an easy motion devoid of all effort! Indeed, it looked as if a great professor were giving a pupil a lesson. This was the tirst time I had seen Hall tight, and his easy nonchalance puzzled me. Pritchard was as useless to han as a child, and did not land on him at all. When time was called Hall loafed back to his corner with a goodhumored smile on his face; Pritchard’s face bore sundry lumps and bumps, as Jim had confined himself exclusively to the head and face. “Round two was a repetition of the first. Hall never moved his right, but hit his man wherever he wanted to with his left, and avoided all punishment with a consummate ease, his white skin hadn’t a single flush on it from his foe’s glove; but Pritchard was bleeding from nose and mouth, and he had bumps all over his lace. I did all that was required in the corner for my man, and sent him up for round three. Hall went leisurely to his man and made a pass with his left; he didn’t seem to think the other chap worth bothering about. Pritchard stepped quickly in and put his right heavily on Hall’s ear, knocking him down on his quarters. Jim sat there not the least dazed, and as Pritchard stood right over him he coolly waved him away. The referee ordered Pritchard back; he only retreated one step, and then Hall bounded to his feet, and then, oh, my! what a different aspect! The blow had roused the fighting instinct in Jim, and put him fairly on his mettle. “All his nonchalance disappeared, he sailed in and played the devil with Pritchard. With a left and right he spun his man round, and then waited with the utmost coolness, le.surely waiting until Pritchard faced him again. He was really entitled to punch whilst his enemy’s back was turned, but he gave him a chance, for he was a scrupulously fair fighter always, and never by any chance infringed ring rules. He made a feint with his left, but it was only a throwoff; Pritchard shifted his guard, and Hall shot the right fair on the point and dropped his man in a huddled-up heap quite insensible. It did not look a hard blow, but was beautifully timed, and it was quite an hour before Pritchard regained consciousness sufficiently to recognise anyone. “Thus ended the fight that made Jim Hall middleweight champion of England. Pritchard only hit him once in the contest.”

An American boxing authority makes the following interesting comments on the recent battle between those great American middleweights George Chip and Jimmy Clabby: “The

Clabby-Chip fight was a great one. Jimmy could have beaten any man in the world. I have seen him in a good many fights, but I never before saw him fight as he fought Chip. I am not saying Chip is no fighter because Jimmy has won from him; he sure is; and he is always dangerous. With a punch like a heavyweight, he is just ihe kind of man that the fans in your city would admire. Joe Welling is to get his first start here to-night against Frankie Jones. Welling should win easily. It will only be four rounds. Lee Johnson had one fight here, and earned a draw. It is hard for him to win in this country on account of his colour. The papers said he should have won. Larney, Jimmy Clabby, Joe Welling, and Art McQueen wish me to remember them to you. Give my regards to Sugar Flanagan, Mr. Baker, Mr. Keesing, Mr. McPherson, Fritz Holland, and Jimmy Fitton. We will not have any boxing in this State after December. The law says we must stop. Some of the promoters are going to fight, and see what they can do with a test case, as they claim the law is not framed as it should be. There are loop-holes in it. I think Clabby will box Chip in New York City shortly after he (Clabby) is through with his theatrical engagements.”

“London Boxing,” in commenting upon an article which went to great pains to show that a boxer was to all .ntents and purposes useless on the field of battle, recalls the story of how David St. John, a Grenadier Guardsman, fell in South Africa: —• “Like Shaw, the Lifeguardsman, a Welsh boxer named David St. John, of Resolven, was a giant who fell whilst fighting for King and country. An idea of his size may be gained by mentioning that when he sparred with Peter Jackson he made the Black Prince look puny in comparison. Dav.d St. John was with his regiment, the Grenadier Guards, at Belmont, South Africa, on November 23, 1599. He took part in that sensational assault on the kopje which decided the fortunes of the day. In the thickest of the fighting David was confronted with one of the enemy who was as big as himself. The two giants fought hand to hand, St. John using his bayonet with such force that he drove it into his opponent’s body right over the hilt and cross-guard. To extricate his weapon was impossible, and while David stood thus practically defenceless he was shot through the head by another of the enemy, and fell dead upon the body of his vanquished foe.”

Jeff Clarke outpointed Sam Langford, of Boston, in a ten-round bout at Joplin, Mo., on October 26 (says the New York “Police Gazette”). Clarke landed four blows to Langford’s one. He beat the Tar Baby at infighting, and fought rings round him after the second round, showing spectre-like ability, avoiding Sam’s punches. Sam was clearly up to his old tricks in that battle. He will fight a return match with Clarke sooner or later, and perhaps beat him badly before a crowded house attracted through the showing made by Clarke. In this case, as in most others, Langford will have two fights with one man, and thus gather up more than double what would have been his portion had he won the first engagement.