The Great White Hopes (7 page)

Biddle was a throwback, in boxing terms, to the eccentric, not to say mad, aristocratic patrons of the old prize-ring, and Philadelphia Jack O’Brien was his White Hope. For his part, the fighter, who mistrusted managers, was perfectly content to let the influential and well-connected millionaire have some limited input into his career, as long as it cost him nothing. O’Brien even went along with his backer’s church movement, Athletic Christianity, and suffered himself to be taken along to children’s Sunday School meetings and displayed as an example of one of Biddle’s holy warriors.

There were other boxers in the millionaire’s extended family. It was his custom to invite local and visiting pugilists for a meal at his mansion and, once they had arrived, force them to spar several rounds with him in a specially constructed ring. Most of his guests went through the motions philosophically, but one White Hope, the towering Al Kaufmann, failed to catch the spirit of the affair. By accident or design he hit the useless Biddle with a substantial punch, putting the other man out of action for the rest of the day and forcing the cancellation of the proposed meal.

No one disputed the banker’s dedication to boxing. On one occasion Biddle had persuaded former world heavyweight champion Bob Fitzsimmons to spar with his 10-year-old son. Fitzsimmons mistimed a jab and knocked the boy out. Anthony Joseph Drexel Biddle Junior recovered consciousness in time to hear his father, in all seriousness, congratulating Fitzsimmons on the efficacy of the blow.

As he did with everything, Biddle put his whole heart into O’Brien’s preparation. He even fought a public four-round exhibition with his protégé to display his commitment. This gave the millionaire an idea. He suggested that next he should spar with the champion in order to see how fit Jack Johnson was. Jack O’Brien agreed to the proposal with alacrity. It was not disclosed whether he thought the plan a good one, or whether he just relished the thought of getting rid of his hearty patron for a few days.

In any event, Biddle turned up at the gymnasium in Merchantville, New Jersey where Johnson was going through the motions of training, and offered to be the champion’s sparring partner. His pride suffered a blow when he was told that the champion was out driving with his wife. Biddle was forced to await Johnson’s return sitting on a bench with other would-be sparring partners. In a confused attempt to conceal his identity the banker introduced himself as Tom O’Biddle, an Irish heavyweight. Johnson, who was not deceived, could hardly believe his ears, but there were newspapermen present among the usual hangers-on, so he shrugged his reluctant agreement, thinking that he was in the presence of yet another white basket case.

His view was reinforced when, at the first bell, Biddle uttered an ear-splitting yell and rushed at his opponent as if leading a bayonet charge. Lazily, the champion held him off at the end of a long, extended left hand, saying soothingly, according to some ringsiders, ‘Hey, Colonel boy! What’s your point? Don’t go getting yourself all stirred up.’ As Biddle’s daughter Cordelia later wrote resignedly in her memoirs,
My Philadelphia Father,
her father was always stirred up. The millionaire banker was not accustomed to being spoken to in this manner, and anyway his dander was up. He threw a mighty right swing, catching Johnson on the ear and upsetting the champion considerably. Johnson aroused himself from his lethargy sufficiently to charge back at Biddle, unleashing a volley of punches. Prudently, the Philadelphian covered up in a corner for the remainder of the round. By the time the bell sounded Johnson had recovered his self-possession sufficiently to let Biddle live, and leave the ring in one piece.

The affair made the national headlines, with one newspaper commenting disapprovingly that the least Johnson could have done for the prestige of the Marine Corps was to allow Biddle, a reserve officer in the corps, to have floored him. The matter was taken as just another display of the champion’s ostentatious lack of respect.

It was never recorded what advice his backer gave O’Brien about Johnson’s condition when he returned to Philadelphia, but on the night of the fight newspapers commented adversely on the spare tyre that the champion was carrying about his midriff. The hall was packed, enabling O’Brien to comment approvingly, ‘A full house turned out and I cleared over nine thousand dollars for my end.’

It was the end of the good news for the challenger. He was much lighter than Johnson and had never been much of a puncher even at his best. O’Brien boxed cautiously while Johnson was content to pad about the ring, exchanging badinage with ringsiders and occasionally cuffing his opponent about the head. Afterwards, as would be expected, there was some discrepancy among the contestants as to the route the bout had followed. Johnson’s version took the form of a laconic, ‘the result of the fight, although no decision was given, clearly showed that O’Brien would have to be eliminated as a contender.’ O’Brien’s summary was a more hopeful, ‘I spotted Johnson forty pounds and had no trouble outpointing him.’ The consensus among spectators and newspaper reporters alike was that, had there been a decision announced, Johnson would have won it out of sight, a view summarised by a Philadelphia newspaper, which reported, ‘O’Brien got some very hard bumps and was pretty badly hurt at times, and there is no doubt that the Negro had the better of the contest.’ In the record books the May 1909 bout is delineated as a six-round, no-decision contest.

It was almost the end of the road for Philadelphia Jack O’Brien, but he had one more good pay-day ahead of him. It lay in a return match with Stanley Ketchel, who was also being groomed for a title shot with Johnson. If Ketchel could defeat O’Brien decisively, it would strengthen his chances of a match with the heavyweight champion by the end of the year.

For his part, O’Brien was still trying to convince himself that he had done well enough against Jack Johnson to continue fighting at the top level. To make matters even better, A.J.D. Biddle seemed to have lost interest in him for the time being. ‘Satisfied I had found myself, and was right again, doing my own managerial work, I signed for a return go with Ketchel,’ O’Brien said, revelling in his independence, free from the interference of millionaire bankers.

The return bout took place in Philadelphia in June of the same year. O’Brien was guaranteed $5,000 as his share of the purse. The fight was a sell-out, thousands arriving to see if Ketchel could catch up with his opponent this time. ‘I wore Irish green tights with a red, white and blue belt,’ said O’Brien, describing the entrance of the gladiators. ‘Ketchel wore flaming red tights and a smirk.’

It was all over in three rounds. Ketchel gave O’Brien a beating from the first bell. As O’Brien later admitted, when the referee, Jack McGuigan, stopped the fight, ‘I had taken the same type of trimming from Ketchel that I handed out when I knocked out Bob Fitzsimmons four years previously to win a title.’ He added to his friend Harry Pegg, ‘Just remember, kid, pugilistic flowers bloom and they fade – that’s life!’

Over the next four years O’Brien fought only eight more times, taking part in seven no-decision contests and being knocked out in five rounds by Sam Langford. Philadelphia Jack also became a great favourite among boxing writers looking for colour pieces. One of them, the great A.J. Liebling, once asked O’Brien what he really thought of Ketchel. It was the old fighter’s considered opinion that his erstwhile opponent had been nothing but ‘a bum distinguished only by the tumultuous but ill-directed ferocity of his assault’.

Anthony J. Drexel Biddle made only one more attempt to contact the old light heavyweight. He threw a large society dinner for his friends, and invited a number of old retired fighters to the event. It was the banker’s intention to get the boxers to recapitulate some of their great bouts for the entertainment of his society friends. O’Brien was asked to spar with the formidable Joe Choynski, whom he had outpointed many years before, in 1902. Both fighters rebelled at being asked to provide a free Roman holiday for the assembled guests. They put up a display of such deliberate ineptitude that Biddle brought their reluctant bout to a halt and instead fought a much more spirited contest with his long-suffering son, Anthony Junior.

With O’Brien disposed of, Jack Johnson fought two more no-decision contests before the end of 1909. The best that could be said of his two opponents was that they were warm and upright, for most of the time anyway. In Pittsburgh, over six rounds he boxed Tony Ross, the ring name for Italian-born American Antonio Rossilano. Ross was a rugged fighter, weighing around 15 stone, but at a height of only 5ft 9in he always found difficulty getting close to taller, smarter boxers, of whom there were plenty around in the first decade of the century. Starting out in 1905, at the age of 20, by the time Ross came up against Jack Johnson he had engaged in twenty-three contests. He had won ten of them, lost six, drawn two and taken part in five no-decision bouts. The only names of any consequence on his record were former heavyweight champion Marvin Hart, who had defeated him on a foul in thirteen rounds, and Sam Langford, who had crushed him in five rounds.

However, Ross was a proud man and no quitter. A few years later, in a grudge match with Fireman Jim Flynn, Ross felt that he had been the victim of a home-town unofficial newspaper decision. Indignantly he challenged the other man to continue their dispute with bare fists outside the arena. The equally fiery and, despite his ring name, equally Italian Flynn agreed and the two men went outside to finish off their business.

This was not the kind of background, nor was Ross the type of fighter, to give Jack Johnson sleepless nights. However, the champion was a major drawing card and 6,000 people turned up to see Johnson break Ross’s nose in the first round, floor him for a long count and then toy with him contemptuously for the rest of the no-decision contest. The
Milwaukee Free Press
of 1 July 1909 remarked upon the champion’s superiority throughout the bout: ‘There was never a moment when the coloured man was in danger, but there were moments when he seemed a trifle surprised by the Italian’s speed.’

It was Ross’s brief moment of fame. He remained in boxing for another seven years, amassing a total of sixty-nine bouts and meeting at various times such White Hopes as Al Kaufmann, Frank Moran, Al Palzer, Gunboat Smith and Tom Kennedy. The day after the Kaufmann bout the
Tacoma Daily News
reported tersely, ‘Jack Johnson was at ringside and laughed at the boxers.’ Ross also engaged in periodic disputes with elements of the constabulary in the cities on his itinerary. In Louisville in 1912, the Italian American had to pull out of proposed contests with Al Palzer and Carl Morris because he was reported as being in hospital recovering from a clubbing administered by local police officers after the fighter had become involved in a saloon brawl.

Ross never came near a championship challenge again. Towards the end of his career he achieved a certain notoriety when, during a sparring session with the British lightweight champion Johnny Summers, the heavyweight Ross hit his sparring partner harder than Summers regarded necessary. Instantly, the 10-stone man replied with a sharp right counter, knocking the 15-stone Ross down and out.

By September 1909, Johnson had reached San Francisco, where he was matched in a ten-round no-decision contest against the local favourite, Al Kaufmann, ‘the San Francisco Dutchman’. Kaufmann, who had ignored the script and knocked out boxing dilettante Drexel Biddle in their sparring session, worked as a blacksmith between fights. He was 22 at the time and could claim with some justification to have been the first of the genuine White Hopes. He was not an unknown substitute like McLaglen, nor cannon fodder as Ross had been. Kaufmann was regarded by many as a genuine prospect, and the first of Johnson’s challengers since the black man had won the title to have a genuine chance in the ring with him. The champion acknowledged as much himself: ‘About this time the giant fighter Al Kaufmann appeared on the horizon, and in him were placed the hopes of those so eager to have a white man again wear the championship belt.’

Kaufmann was over 6ft in height and weighed around 14 stone. He had turned professional in 1904, and caused something of a sensation by knocking out each of his first five opponents in the first round. Among his victims had been Jack ‘Twin’ Sullivan, so-called because his twin brother Mike was also a highly regarded professional. It is true that Jack was little more than a middleweight, but he was still a pretty useful one and in the first decade of the twentieth century less was made of weight differences between contestants.

There was no doubt that Kaufmann was the possessor of a respectable punch, but it was considerably enhanced by his judicious use of hand-wrappings. In those days there were few regulations as to what fighters should wear to protect their fists inside the gloves. The San Francisco man’s favoured kind of wrapping was a type of heavy black mechanics’ tape that was normally used for repairing machinery. Before one of Kaufmann’s bouts, veteran heavyweight Tom Sharkey looked on in amazement as strand after strand of tape was wound into place around Kaufmann’s fists by his handlers. Finally, the scandalised old fighter could restrain himself no longer. ‘This guy’s no fighter,’ he blurted out contemptuously, ‘he’s an electrician!’

Kaufmann attracted considerable attention on the West Coast with his series of quick wins, and his handlers promptly put him in with another good, if much smaller, man, the ubiquitous Jack O’Brien. Unfortunately for the San Francisco boxer, O’Brien was much too clever for him. To make matters worse, O’Brien, who was commonly held to have no punch, actually knocked Kaufmann out in the seventeenth round.

The big fellow came back. In the four years between his loss to O’Brien and his bout with Jack Johnson, he had fourteen more fights, completing one ten-round, no-decision contest with Tony Ross and winning all the others, eleven by knockout. He was then matched with Jack Johnson, being regarded as the best available of local heavyweights and likely to draw a crowd.

There were many who thought that Kaufmann was in with a chance, but the fistic cognoscenti regarded the big fellow as strictly a dog, likely to be completely dominated by the champion. O’Brien and Ross had been outclassed by Johnson, they argued, while Kaufmann had been defeated inside the distance by the first and taken the full ten-round route by the second.