It's fascinating. Besides being one of the hardest punchers in boxing history, Lou Jenkins was ridiculously brave, his mindset, his attitude, he actually WANTED to lead men into battle during WWII, you have to be crazy to want to enter the terrifying, apocalyptic atmosphere of war. He missed out on that opportunity in WWII, but he got the opportunity again in the Korean War and he took full advantage of it. He is a fascinating case study, he was also a wild man that lived a colorful life.
From lightweight champion to war hero: Author Gene Pantalone tells the incredible story of Lew Jenkins
November 16, 2018
Matt Davies
From the lightweight champion of the world to a recognised war hero, Lew Jenkins lived a life almost too unbelievable to be true. Despite his notoriety in the 1940s, Jenkins is now largely unheard of.
However, his story — both in the ring and outside — is extraordinary. A tragedy if it were forgotten.
Gene Pantalone holds this belief and, despite breaking his neck aged 17, resulting in total paralysis from the neck down, embarked upon an arduous year-long writing process to ensure Jenkins’ story is eternally enshrined in his book, ‘From Boxing Ring to Battlefield: The Life of War Hero Lew Jenkins,’ which is available to buy as of yesterday.
“Before I even started putting words down — as I began researching the story — I just felt it was a story that had to be told. It’s so compelling. I just thought it had to be heard,” Pantalone told the Sports Gazette.
Pantalone’s previous book ‘Madame Bey’s: Home to Boxing Legends’ focused on a boxing camp in Clatham Township, New Jersey, where the great Freddie Welsh made his home. This was the inspiration behind Pantalone’s interest in boxing and it was during this project that Jenkins’ story first caught his attention.
“Jenkins was a boxer at the camp,” Pantalone explained. “At first, I just wrote about him because he attended the camp. Then, when I was looking through the newspaper articles, I started finding out how he was drunk during his fights. I just couldn’t work out how he could have done that.”
Fighting drunk was just one of the many aspects of Jenkins’ career that earned him his reputation. Aside from his drunkenness, perhaps most noticeable was his fighting style. Rather, his lack thereof, as well as his slight physique and the inexplicable power he generated from his right hand.
He said: “The big referee at the time was Arthur Donovan, who refereed more championship fights than anyone in boxing, including 22 Joe Louis fights. He said Jenkins’ punch was harder than anyone’s he had seen, and that it was all natural.”
Jenkins’ punching power made him an intriguing spectacle for the crowds, but what makes his rise to champion status impressive is his background.
Born as one of seven children in the heart of Texas in 1916 — an area severely affected by the Great Depression — Jenkins was forced to work from childhood, picking cotton pods in the fields.
Work came at the expense of school attendance, which ultimately led to his premature departure. Subsequently, he regularly participated in street fights, where — despite his small frame — he knocked out each of his opponents one-by-one. His freakish power earned him a spot in his local carnival, earning $1 per day’s work and fighting up to four times daily.
He started to fight professionally off the back of this, but with mixed results initially. His right hand was naturally gifted, but that was the extent of his armoury. Even then, he barely knew how to use it. Within ten months, after moving to New York, Jenkins became lightweight champion of the world.
Given there were only eight weight divisions at the time — compared to 17 today — and only one belt per division, this was remarkable.
Fame and fortune began to materialize amid his success, but this wasn’t Jenkins’ top priority. He was more concerned with having a good time.
“You talk about bad boys in sport now, he had them all beat back then with his antics, how he handled himself and how he wasted his potential. He didn’t care for titles,” Pantalone said.
“He had a drinking problem, and he loved his high-speed motor cycles, which resulted in several crashes. He fought with broken bones, once with a broken neck.
“His wife got mad at him when he was preparing to defend his lightweight title. As with all the accidents, she said there would be nothing left for his opponent to hit.”
Arguably the story that best epitomises Jenkins is his 1941 bout with Lou Ambes, in front of over 15,000 people. With just two hours remaining before the fight started, Jenkins was found drinking whiskey in the corner of a bar. He fought drunk, but, as was the case on numerous occasions, he won by knockout.
While he could never truly commit to boxing, largely wasting his natural talent, the army was different. He was in the prime of his career, and sacrificed it to serve his country.
Pantalone said: “Jenkins started turning his life around in WWII when he volunteered for the Coast Guard. Reading that is when I really became fascinated by him.
“Jenkins actually landed British troops at Normandy beach. He was under intense enemy fire. The British even gave him a citation for his bravery.”
Nonetheless, Jenkins wasn’t satisfied with his Coast Guard role. In fact, he felt ashamed.
“Even though he was under intense fire, and people thought he was brave, he felt like a coward. Landing the troops, watching the guys he put down on the ground get shot as he was putting them down — he vowed to himself he would never do that again.
“All he wanted to do, from the end of WWII until he finally got his chance at the Korean War, was to be a front-line soldier.”
The Korean War was his opportunity for self-redemption. A chance to fight on the front-line. He arguably surpassed expectation and was awarded a Silver Star for his services.
Jenkins earned his military reputation at Bloody Ridge and Heartbreak Ridge, two of the fiercest battles in history. During Bloody Ridge, the company under Jenkins’ command was largely obliterated — only 17 soldiers, including Jenkins, survived from 160.
“I was actually able to talk to one of the survivors [93-year-old Ronald E. Rosser, a forward observer] who was a Medal of Honour recipient,” Pantalone said. “He said that he was part of a squad Jenkins put together. The stories he told me were just horrific.”
Rosser said that Jenkins made several trips — completely alone — from their base to the ammunition dump under intense enemy fire, allowing the machine guns to stay loaded. This act of bravery earned him the Silver Star.
“I also spoke to his son and had email correspondences with one of his grandsons,” Pantalone explained, “which helped me get a lot of information I wouldn’t have otherwise been able to have.
“Especially when his son was in Germany and met famous actor Steve McQueen. He walked into his house and there was his father, sitting with Steve, Charles Bronson and James Garner, all filming a movie called ‘The Great Escape’.
“Steve actually wanted to make a movie about Jenkins’ life, but said he would have to tone it down to make it more believable.”
What’s most salient about Jenkins’ story is how starkly he contrasts modern-day boxers. Those at the pinnacle bicker over who’s the ‘A-side’ fighter, who walks to the ring first and how best to divide the money. Jenkins, though, cared little. He fought anyone and everyone, regardless of his own condition, even after voluntary war services.
“Nowadays, you might be lucky to see top boxers fight twice a year. Some have an even longer gap. Back in the 1920s-50s, these guys fought once a month if not every couple of weeks. You can see on YouTube how fierce the fights were, yet they were back at it two weeks later.
“It’s probably better today. They’re looking more towards the safety of the boxer. But Jenkins had over 100 fights listed, and there were a lot of unrecorded fights. He probably fought 300-400 times.”
For Pantalone, though, it was Jenkins’ transformation that he found most impressive.
“Just my favourite thing about the man is the way he concurred his drinking problem and his wildness. You think of all his boxing fights and the wars he fought in, and afterwards he said his two toughest opponents were Jack Daniels and Harley Davidsons.”
The character of Lew Jenkins is perfectly summed up in this line. Courageous, yet troubled. While he turned his life around after the wars, he also squandered his remarkable natural talent through alcohol abuse and a lack of motivation. His story is incredible nonetheless, one told in exquisite detail by Gene Pantalone.
In 1940, Lou Jenkins knocked out the great "Herkimer Hurricane" Lou Ambers in three rounds, and became world lightweight champion. Nine months later in the rematch, Jenkins stopped him in seven rounds. It was the only two times in Lou Ambers' legendary career that he was knocked out.
I actually own this type 1 original photo of Lou Jenkins knocking out Lou Ambers, it's one of the best items in my collection, Jenkins looks so menacing, his arms, it looks like he's carrying two sawed-off shotguns and he just blasted Ambers. It's absolutely fascinating, looking at Jenkins in this photo, he doesn't look like much physically, but man he could whack, you just wonder how the heck he generated that kind of power.
Unfortunately, there's no existing fight film of Lou Jenkins. It's frustrating, and if I could watch any fighter on film, he would be one of them. I would love to see him on film, his power. Luckily, we at least have a few good photos.
In 1919, Harry Greb, "The Pittsburgh Windmill", went 45-0 in fights. During that stretch, he beat Billy Brennan x4, Billy Miske, Mike Gibbons, Jeff Smith, Battling Levinsky X4, Mike McTigue, and Leo Houck X4. His resume that year alone is better than most fighters entire career resumes. Most casual boxing fans have never even heard of Harry Greb. He has the best entire career resume in boxing history.
Fun fact, Len Wickwar was a British boxer who competed from 1928–1947, primarily as a lightweight. He holds the record for the most professional fights in history, with 473 bouts and 4,020 rounds over his 19-year career. Wickwar's record is considered unbreakable due to the different nature of boxing in his era. Fighters often competed multiple times a month to make a living, with fewer regulations and quicker fight arrangements.
A masterful performance by the great WBC lightweight champion Alexis Arguello gave the inevitable end to his defense against Ray Mancini at Ballys Hotel in Atlantic City, New Jersey in 1981.
20-year-old Mancini, fighting for the lightweight belt his father never had a chance for, was stopped at 1 minute 46 seconds of the 14th round.
'Boom Boom' Mancini, ahead early although never in command, was thoroughly beaten by the classy champion from Nicaragua, who won his 16th straight title fight, 14th by knockout.
Even as Referee Tony Perez stepped in to stop the fight, an Arguello left hook sent Mancini down for the second time.
At ringside, in a wheelchair following a double coronary bypass, was Mancini's father, Lenny 'Boom Boom' Mancini.
When the older Mancini was guaranteed a title shot at Sammy Angott in 1941, he was the No.1 lightweight contender. But World War II intervened. Mancini Junior devoted himself to capturing the championship that his father never got a chance to win.
"I told him I'm sorry and like all fathers do, he comforted me," said a tearful Mancini after the fight. "You did beautifully," interrupted Arguello, who then consoled the youngster. It was the 55th knockout for Arguello, who has also held the WBC featherweight and super-featherweight titles.
Joe Smith Jr. , is called "The Common Man", a nickname that reflects his quiet, blue-collar persona and his background as a Union 66 laborer who worked a day job while pursuing his boxing career. He is also called "The Irish Bomber", a nickname that reflects his brutal punching power. In 2020, he knocked out Eleider Alvarez, sending him through the ropes, with a beautiful one, two, combination of a straight right hand and a straight left hand. The victory was an impressive one for Smith, as Alvarez had only ever lost once before but never finished — with the hard-hitting Russian fighter Sergey Kovalev exchanging a win and a loss with Alvarez in a two-fight rivalry two years prior.
"Coming into this camp, I knew I had to work on my boxing," said Smith post-fight. I wanted to be sharp, throw a lot of straight punches."
"I watched his fight with Kovalev, and Kovalev kind of set the way to beat him. So we watched that and worked off of it."
"I knew coming in today I had to box a little more because he's got that great right hand. He caught me with it a couple times, but I can take a punch, too.
"Every time he hit me, I wanted to come and stop him in his tracks, and I did that. I stuck to my game plan, and it was a great fight."
Ironically, it wasn't the first time Joe Smith Jr. knocked an opponent through the ropes. In 2016, Smith Jr. defeated the great Bernard Hopkins by TKO when he knocked him through the ropes and out of the ring, bringing an end to the legendary career of Hopkins.
In a brilliant fight, Arturo Gatti scored a stunning fifth-round knockout of Gabriel Ruelas to retain his IBF super-featherweight title on the Lennox Lewis-Andrew Golota undercard in Atlantic City on this day in 1997.
Gatti, boxing's most exciting fighter, put on another thriller against former world champion Ruelas. Gatti was in desperate trouble in the fourth round – at times he was almost out on his feet.
But Gatti recovered in between rounds and came out bouncing for the fifth. He caught Ruelas with a stunning left hook that landed squarely on the challenger's chin and dropped him to the canvas. Ruelas was up at the count of eight, but Referee Benjy Esteves stopped the fight.
"It was a very hard fight, and it could have gone either way," Gatti said. "But I expected it to go that way. He hurt me in the fourth round. He's a very strong fighter. He took a lot out of me in the beginning."
Gene Tunney, "The Fighting Marine", was a thinking fighter who preferred to make a boxing match into a game of chess, which was not popular during the times when such sluggers as Jack Dempsey, Harry Greb and Mickey Walker were commanding center stage. Tunney's style was influenced by other noted boxing thinkers such as James J. Corbett and Benny Leonard. Nevertheless, it is incorrect to think of Tunney as a stick-and-move fighter in the Ali style. While Tunney's heavyweight fights against Gibbons, Carpentier, and Dempsey featured his fleet-footed movement and rapid-fire jabbing, his earlier bouts, especially the five against Harry Greb, demonstrated his vicious body punching and willingness to fight toe-to-toe. It was Benny Leonard who advised Tunney that the only way to beat Harry "The Human Windmill" Greb was to aim his punches at Greb's body rather than his head. Always moving and boxing behind an excellent left jab, Tunney would study his opponents from the first bell. He generally preferred to stay outside and nullify any attacks, while using quick counters to keep the opponent off balance. Although not a big puncher, Tunney could still hit with power, especially after hurting his opponents and mastering their styles. In his fights against Jack Dempsey, today's viewer can see Tunney's style: hands held low for greater power, fast footwork that adjusts to every move his opponent makes and quick and accurate one-two style counter-punches with the left and right. Tunney did own a very solid chin. He was never knocked out, and the only time he was ever knocked down was in the second fight with Dempsey in the infamous Long Count.
Speaking of James J. Corbett, "Gentleman Jim", he is considered the father of modern boxing, of scientific boxing, he was really the first "thinking man's" fighter. Before Corbett, boxing was basically a barbaric, bloody sport, which consisted of two men slugging it out. Corbett brought science into the fight game, how to study your opponents, out think them strategically, that was James J. Corbett. He became world heavyweight champion in 1892 when he dethroned the great John L. Sullivan, the 1 on Sullivan's 47-1 record, that's Corbett.
A NEW BREED of boxer was born when James J. Corbett won the heavyweight title from John L. Sullivan in 1892. Corbett was an educated man who practiced the science of boxing. He broke the mold of the stereotypical brawling prizefighter.
Corbett was born on September 1, 1866 in San Francisco. He was raised in a middle class home, attended college and even worked as a bank clerk. He learned his boxing not on the streets but in sparring clubs. He learned how to box under the guidance of Walter Watson at San Francisco's Olympic Club.
Because of his handsome appearance and classy ring style, he earned such nicknames as Handsome Jim, Pompadour Jim and finally, Gentleman Jim.
Corbett's first pro fight came when he was 18 and he knocked out Frank Smith. Gentleman Jim's career took off, however, with a three-fight series against fellow Hall of Famer Joe Choynski. They met three times in a three month span in 1889. The first bout was a no contest after four rounds. Corbett won the second with a 27th-round knockout and the third with a four-round decision. The first fight was interrupted by police, but the middle bout, contested six days later, was an epic contest fought on a barge in San Francisco Bay. The seams from Choynski's gloves cut Corbett in round three. And later in the fight Corbett broke his left hand. Yet, he managed to summon enough power to knockout Choynski with a left hook.
The next year he won a four-round decision over the legendary heavyweight Jake Kilrain. Then in 1891 he fought a 61-round battle with fellow hall-of-famer Peter Jackson, which was ruled a no contest. A month after that bout, Corbett boxed a four-round exhibition with John L. Sullivan, giving him a preview of things to come.
The much anticipated Sullivan-Corbett fight took place on September 7, 1892 in New Orleans. It was the first heavyweight championship bout in which the participants wore gloves. Corbett, with Professor Mike Donovan in his corner, boxed brilliantly. He countered sharply and managed to sidestep Sullivan's bullish charges. In the 21st round, Sullivan was exhausted and Corbett pounded the champion into submission, knocking him out with a right hand.
In 1894, Corbett successfully defended the title with a third-round knockout over Charley Mitchell. He would lose the crown in his next defense as Bob Fitzsimmons kayoed him in the 14th round in 1897.
In 1900, Corbett challenged heavyweight king James J. Jeffries -- who was his former sparring partner -- and was knocked out in the 23rd round. They fought a rematch in 1903 and this time Jeffries scored a 10th-round kayo. In between the two Jeffries fights, Corbett knocked out middleweight champion Charles "Kid" McCoy in the fifth round.
Corbett performed on the stage during his reign as heavyweight champion and continued his acting career well into his retirement.
This is my favorite photo of James J. Corbett, in his prime, with the American flag wrapped around his waist, about to put in some road work on a bike. This photo had to be taken in the late 1890s, I would love to own the original.
In James J. Corbett's own words, how he beat John L Sullivan.
James J. Corbett and John L. Sullivan face to face years after their historic heavyweight title fight in 1892
"Gentleman Jim" Corbett Knocks Out
John L. Sullivan became a legend in his own time. He had won the Heavyweight Championship title in 1882 and had successfully defended it for 10 years. He was the last of the bare-knuckle champions who pounded each other without gloves for hours in marathon matches that lasted for as many as 75 rounds. Sullivan rose to the pinnacle of his profession at a time when many states and local jurisdictions outlawed boxing matches giving the sport a status that lay somewhere between marginal respectability and outright criminal behavior. Nonetheless, Sullivan's championship matches attracted thousands.
The introduction of the Marquis of Queensberry rules improved the status of professional boxing by regulating the participants' behavior and dampening the potential barbarism of the ring. At the same time, the boxing clubs that formed the foundation of the sport standardized the various weight classes. Boxing was making a transition to a legitimate, money-making form of sport.
Jim Corbett represented the new age of boxing. He had learned his craft not on the street but from a coach. He had attended college and worked as a bank clerk before turning to the sport. He began his career in 1886 and had fought all of his matches wearing gloves and under Queensberry rules. Because he wore his hair in a full-grown pompadour, dressed smartly and used excellent grammar when he spoke, he became known as "Gentleman Jim."
On September 7, 1892 the two men met in New Orleans in a Heavyweight Championship match governed by the Queensbury rules. The Sullivan-Corbett fight of 1892 marks a watershed for professional boxing as the sport moved out of the shadows of criminality into the realm of acceptable public entertainment.
"He came out of his corner like a roaring lion."
A crowd of over 10,000 men - and a few women - jammed the arena. Sullivan weighed in at 212 lbs. - 25 lbs. heavier than his challenger. The betting was heavy. Two thousand miles away and connected by telegraph, beacon lights atop New York City's Pulitzer Building alerted the fans below as to which fighter was winning - red for Sullivan, white for Corbett. Jim Corbett later published a book describing that night. We join his account as the first round begins:
"Now, I knew that the most dangerous thing I could do was to let Sullivan work me into a corner when I was a little tired or dazed, so I made up my mind that I would let him do this while I was still fresh. Then I could find out what he intended doing when he got me there. In a fight, you know, when a man has you where he wants you, he is going to deliver the best goods he has.
From the beginning of the round Sullivan was aggressive-wanted to eat me up right away. He came straight for me and I backed and backed, finally into a corner. While I was there I observed him setting himself for a right-hand swing, first slapping himself on the thigh with his left hand-sort of a trick to balance himself for a terrific swing with his right. But before he let the blow go, just at the right instant, I sidestepped out of the corner and was back in the middle of the ring again, Sullivan hot after me.
I allowed him to back me into all four corners, and he thought he was engineering all this, that it was his own work that was cornering me. But I had learned what I wanted to know - just where to put my head to escape his blow if he should get me cornered and perhaps dazed. He had shown his hand to me.
John L. Sullivan
In the second round he was still backing me around the ring. I hadn't even struck at him yet, and the audience on my right hissed me for running away and began to call me 'Sprinter.' Now I could see at a glance that Sullivan was not quite near enough to hit me, so suddenly I turned my side to him, waved both hands to the audience and called out, 'Wait a while! You'll see a fight.'
...So far Sullivan hadn't reached me with anything but glancing blows, and it was my intention, when the third round started, to hit him my first punch, and I felt that it must be a good one! If my first punch didn't hurt him, he was going to lose all respect for my hitting ability.
So, with mind thoroughly made up, I allowed him to back me once more into a corner. But although this time I didn't intend to slip out, by my actions I indicated that I was going to, just as I had before. As we stood there, fiddling, he crowding almost on top of me, I glanced, as I had always done before, first to the left, then to the right, as if looking for some way to get out of this corner. He, following my and thinking I wanted to make a getaway, determined that he wouldn't let me out this time!
For once he failed to slap himself on the thigh with his left hand, but he had his right hand all ready for the swing as he was gradually crawling up on me. Then, just as he finally set himself to let go a vicious right I beat him to it and loosed a left-hand for his face with all the power I had behind it. His head went back and I followed it up with a couple of other punches and slugged him back over the ring and into his corner. When the round was over his nose was broken.
At once there was pandemonium in the audience! All over the house, men stood on their chairs, coats off, swinging them in the air. You could have heard the yells clear to the Mississippi River!
But the uproar only made Sullivan the more determined. He came out of his corner in the fourth like a roaring lion, with an uglier scowl than ever, and bleeding considerably at the nose. I felt sure now that I would beat him, so made up my mind that, though it would take a little longer, I would play safe.
"Gentleman Jim" Corbett
From that time on I started doing things the audience were seeing for the first time, judging from the way they talked about the fight afterwards. I would work a left-hand on the nose, then a hook into the stomach, a hook up on the jaw again, a great variety of blows, in fact; using all the time such quick side-stepping and footwork that the audience seemed to be delighted and a little bewildered, as was also Mr. Sullivan. That is, bewildered, for I don't think he was delighted.
In the twelfth round we clinched, and, with the referee's order, 'Break away,' I dropped my arms, when Sullivan let go a terrific right-hand swing from which I just barely got away; as it was it just grazed the top of my head. Some in the audience began to shout 'foul!' but I smiled and shook my head, to tell them, 'I don't want it that way.'
When we came up for the twenty-first round it looked as if the fight would last ten or fifteen rounds longer. Right away I went up to him, feinted with my left and hit him with a left-hand hook alongside the jaw pretty hard, and I saw his eyes roll. . . . Summoning all the reserve force I had left I let my guns go, right and left, with all the dynamite Nature had given me, and Sullivan stood dazed and rocking. So I set myself for an instant, put just 'a little more' in a right and hit him alongside the jaw. And he fell helpless on the ground, on his stomach, and rolled over on his back! The referee, his seconds and mine picked him up and put him in his corner; and the audience went wild."
The actual footage of a 59 year old James J. Corbett sparring with Gene Tunney, both were great thinkers in the ring and Tunney really admired Corbett and sought his advice. This film is absolutely fascinating and priceless.
"Sailor" Tom Sharkey with the cauliflower ear visible, this is a really rare shot of Sharkey because he didn't like to show his cauliflower ear. Sharkey was a beast of a fighter, the kind of guy you practically had to try and kill him to beat him. He was known for being able to take ungodly amounts of punishment and keep coming after you. Just put it this way, the only way I would step into the ring with Sharkey is if I was armed with a baseball bat with nails sticking out of it. And I still might lose.
"Sailor" Tom Sharkey was intimidating as hell, he had these freakishly muscular legs, and a navy tattoo on his chest, there wasn't an ounce of fat on the guy, he was a monster of a fighter.
"I fought them all. The bigger they were, the better I liked it. I knew I could cut them down to my size." -Tom Sharkey
Sharkey fought everyone, facing the likes of John L. Sullivan, "Gentleman Jim" Corbett, Bob Fitzsimmons and "The Boilermaker" Jim Jeffries. He went 45 rounds with Jim Jeffries in two bloody wars.
With 34 of his 37 wins coming inside the distance, Sharkey is one of boxing's biggest hitters of all time.
Legendary boxing trainer Emanuel Steward and Hilmer Kenty, the first world champion to come out of Steward's famous Kronk Gym in Detroit, Michigan.
KRONK’S FIRST CHAMP
The Kronk Gym is known as a legendary place in Detroit when it comes to boxing and while perhaps bigger names have come out of that gym, their first champion was Hilmer Kenty who was the first boxing champion out of Detroit since Joe Louis.
Hilmer was born in Texas but moved to Columbus, Ohio early in his childhood. He had three brothers who all played different sports, football, basketball and baseball, but Hilmer never excelled at any of those mainstream sports, until he discovered boxing at twelve years of age. Right away his coach saw that he had a lot of natural abilities when it came to fighting, as proven when Kenty won his first eight fights. He would go on to spend nine years as an amateur winning the National AAU Lightweight championship in 1974 and 1976. He beat Aaron Pryor in the 1976 national A.A.U. Golden Gloves and attempted to make the Olympics in 1972 and 1976.
After the Olympic trials, Hilmer retired from amateur fighting and helped coach younger kids. During that time he watched a friend and his brother turn professional, which was something his coach frowned upon. As an amateur, Hilmer had already met Kronk Gym trainer Emmanuel Steward and boxer Tommy “The Hitman” Hearns. They made Hilmer feel like there were a lot of quality fighters in Detroit so he joined Kronk. The Kronk had both amateur and pro boxers that would help get him ready for pro fights by sparring with them in the basement of the gym. “It was the best place in the world to work out,” Kenty says about the basement of Kronk.
In 1980, he made it to the championship match against Ernesto España. Although the fight was originally not going to be on television, ABC had cancelled coverage of another boxing match and picked up Kenty vs España instead. “I always pretended Howard Cosell was calling my fight,” Hilmer said when he shadow boxed when he was young. “Then, he would interview me after the fight.” This fight was a dream come true and Hilmer knew as soon as the bell rang he would be the champion. However he quickly got a reality check when he ducked into a punch in the first round and was knocked down. After refocusing himself, he beat España very decisively. Although Kenty was the first champion for Emmanuel Steward, Hilmer gives Hearns a lot of credit and thought Tommy deserved that honor more than him. Hearns had stuck his neck out for Kenty and he also made Steward more money which helped moved them all up in the boxing world.
Over the next year Kenty defended his title four times. He succeeded each time until 1981 against Sean O’Grady. Leading up to that fight, Hilmer had a detached retina and a bad case of pneumonia. On top of that, Kenty did not feel mentally prepared for the fight. After 15 rounds, O’Grady finally dethroned him and Hilmer began to consider retirement. After that fight, fighters that used to be easy for him to beat while training got a lot harder to beat and Kenty felt his body was not what it used to be. As a boxer, he knew only one punch could ruin someone’s life when it came to injuries, so he hung up the gloves.
Hilmer Kenty peeled himself off the canvas and became Kronk Gym's first world champion when he captured the WBA lightweight title with a 9th round TKO of Ernesto España at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, Michigan in 1980.
Kenty entered the fight at 16-0 with 12 KO, but España's punching power and edge in experience made him a clear favorite. Emanuel Steward, leader of Detroit's Kronk Gym, said the fight was more of a toss-up than oddsmakers believed, and as usual, he was right.
In round 1, España caught Kenty with a hook and then a headbutt as he waded in, and Kenty went down. It wasn't a clean knockdown, but Kenty got up anyway and resumed jabbing his way to winning points. A low lead hand, which some would later say was a Kronk Gym calling card, kept Kenty's jab in España's face.
Kenty looked to be in trouble in round 8, but he would later claim he had a cramp in his leg that prevented him from moving. The following round, likely sensing his title slipping from his grasp, España lashed out like a wounded animal. Kenty punished him with a number of right hands that hurt the champion and put him against the ropes. España staggered across the ring and Kenty attacked, swarming against a completely helpless España and forcing a stoppage.
The Detroit crowd of about 13,000 went wild for Kenty. Meanwhile España wasn't sure where he was.
"I don't think he ever saw the punch that hurt him," Kenty said. "I knew it would be easy to hit him. I thought I could dominate him."
September 20, 1996, David Tua scored a one-punch 1st round KO of Darroll Wilson in Miami, Florida. A single short left hook caught Wilson in close and laid him out flat.
One of the greatest weapons in boxing history, the Tua left hook.
David Tua on his devastating left hook...
"It started way back when I was young in Samoa. When I was asked to go and cut the grass I did it with my left. Even though I was right-handed, dad would say 'no, no, use the left'. So for some crazy reason it would have developed some kind of strength through it. Going into boxing, the left hook seemed natural, but the timing and to perfect it, how to throw it properly, was another matter."
This was certainly one for the books. On September 27, 1980 in one of boxing’s ugliest moments, “Marvelous” Marvin Hagler defeated Alan Minter by TKO in Round 3 at Wembley Arena for the WBA & WBC Middleweight Titles. Just days before the fight, Minter uttered words he would later retract, saying “No black man is going to take my title.” Hagler showed no mercy, opening cuts on Minter’s face until the referee stopped the fight in round three. Minter's cuts were so severe that there was simply no way for the fight to continue; Minter would receive 15 stitches later that evening. What followed was pandemonium—fans rioted, forcing police to shield Hagler and his team. The worst emanated from the booze fueled British fans after the bout, when they hurled beer bottles and cans in the ring. Promoter Micky Duff was embarrassed on the night, apologizing profusely to Hagler, and not holding back on his opinion of the perpetrators, "There were 10,000 there and there were a maximum of 15 to 20 people involved. They were animals". Despite the madness, this moment marked the start of one of the greatest title reigns in boxing history, proving Hagler’s toughness inside and outside the ring.
It was the great Jack Dempsey, "The Manassa Mauler", that pretty much made boxing American’s biggest sport. When he beat a 6'7" champion who weighed 60 lbs heavier than him. Jack Dempsey fought like a man escaping poverty, because he was. Born to a poor mining family in Colorado, he traveled the country hopping freight trains on his own, fighting for spare change in saloons and mining towns. He punched with savagery, breaking jaws and drawing crowds with his ferocity. Dempsey's demolition of the 6' 7" Jess Willard in 1919, where he dropped the giant champion seven times in one round, shocked the world. Dempsey weighed almost 60 lbs less than Willard at the time. Dempsey became the first true celebrity heavyweight, drawing millions and turning boxing into America's biggest sport.
Dempsey vs Willard -1919
On July 4th, 1919, Jess Willard AKA “The Potawatomi Giant” slumped into the corner of the ring after Jack Dempsey AKA "Kid Blackie", AKA "The Manassa Mauler", had destroyed the champion with a savage beating many of the fans present had rarely seen before. Willard had in fact killed a man in the ring in 1913 named Jack “Bull” Young. Willard had hit him so hard in the head that a piece of his broken jaw was driven into his head, Jack Young would die in the 9th round. Jess Willard's notoriety was real, having killed a man in the ring, and he was charged with second degree murder. He fought the charges in court and won. Two years later he was the world heavyweight champion having beaten Jack Johnson for the heavyweight title in 1915 in Havana Cuba. With his solid reputation intact, Willard agreed to fight a new young boxer named Jack Dempsey. Born of mixed heritage and one of 13 siblings, Dempsey’s career was about to go into the next level when the 6’1″, 187 pound Dempsey stepped into the ring to fight Willard in Toledo Ohio on July 4th 1919. The much smaller Dempsey had been bothered by Willard’s remarks before the fight. Willard had claimed that “This will be the easiest fight of my career,” and referred to how he was happy to bring the title belt back to the ‘white race.” Dempsey held onto the remarks and used them to fire the raging flames that burned within him. Thirty seconds into the first round Dempsey hit the champion with a huge left and broke his jaw in over a dozen places, knocking him to the mat. Willard rose and was knocked down 7 times in that first round and suffered tremendous damage at the hands of the challenger. To Willard's credit he lasted until the start of the fourth round where he failed to answer the bell, his jaw broken in multiple places, a broken cheek bone, broken ribs, permanent hearing loss and missing teeth. Dempsey would go onto become the king of the roaring 1920s and defend the title for 6 years. Willard would retire and only box again for exhibitions.
It was one of the worst beatings in a boxing ring ever seen.
Comments
It's fascinating. Besides being one of the hardest punchers in boxing history, Lou Jenkins was ridiculously brave, his mindset, his attitude, he actually WANTED to lead men into battle during WWII, you have to be crazy to want to enter the terrifying, apocalyptic atmosphere of war. He missed out on that opportunity in WWII, but he got the opportunity again in the Korean War and he took full advantage of it. He is a fascinating case study, he was also a wild man that lived a colorful life.
From lightweight champion to war hero: Author Gene Pantalone tells the incredible story of Lew Jenkins
November 16, 2018
Matt Davies
From the lightweight champion of the world to a recognised war hero, Lew Jenkins lived a life almost too unbelievable to be true. Despite his notoriety in the 1940s, Jenkins is now largely unheard of.
However, his story — both in the ring and outside — is extraordinary. A tragedy if it were forgotten.
Gene Pantalone holds this belief and, despite breaking his neck aged 17, resulting in total paralysis from the neck down, embarked upon an arduous year-long writing process to ensure Jenkins’ story is eternally enshrined in his book, ‘From Boxing Ring to Battlefield: The Life of War Hero Lew Jenkins,’ which is available to buy as of yesterday.
“Before I even started putting words down — as I began researching the story — I just felt it was a story that had to be told. It’s so compelling. I just thought it had to be heard,” Pantalone told the Sports Gazette.
Pantalone’s previous book ‘Madame Bey’s: Home to Boxing Legends’ focused on a boxing camp in Clatham Township, New Jersey, where the great Freddie Welsh made his home. This was the inspiration behind Pantalone’s interest in boxing and it was during this project that Jenkins’ story first caught his attention.
“Jenkins was a boxer at the camp,” Pantalone explained. “At first, I just wrote about him because he attended the camp. Then, when I was looking through the newspaper articles, I started finding out how he was drunk during his fights. I just couldn’t work out how he could have done that.”
Fighting drunk was just one of the many aspects of Jenkins’ career that earned him his reputation. Aside from his drunkenness, perhaps most noticeable was his fighting style. Rather, his lack thereof, as well as his slight physique and the inexplicable power he generated from his right hand.
He said: “The big referee at the time was Arthur Donovan, who refereed more championship fights than anyone in boxing, including 22 Joe Louis fights. He said Jenkins’ punch was harder than anyone’s he had seen, and that it was all natural.”
Jenkins’ punching power made him an intriguing spectacle for the crowds, but what makes his rise to champion status impressive is his background.
Born as one of seven children in the heart of Texas in 1916 — an area severely affected by the Great Depression — Jenkins was forced to work from childhood, picking cotton pods in the fields.
Work came at the expense of school attendance, which ultimately led to his premature departure. Subsequently, he regularly participated in street fights, where — despite his small frame — he knocked out each of his opponents one-by-one. His freakish power earned him a spot in his local carnival, earning $1 per day’s work and fighting up to four times daily.
He started to fight professionally off the back of this, but with mixed results initially. His right hand was naturally gifted, but that was the extent of his armoury. Even then, he barely knew how to use it. Within ten months, after moving to New York, Jenkins became lightweight champion of the world.
Given there were only eight weight divisions at the time — compared to 17 today — and only one belt per division, this was remarkable.
Fame and fortune began to materialize amid his success, but this wasn’t Jenkins’ top priority. He was more concerned with having a good time.
“You talk about bad boys in sport now, he had them all beat back then with his antics, how he handled himself and how he wasted his potential. He didn’t care for titles,” Pantalone said.
“He had a drinking problem, and he loved his high-speed motor cycles, which resulted in several crashes. He fought with broken bones, once with a broken neck.
“His wife got mad at him when he was preparing to defend his lightweight title. As with all the accidents, she said there would be nothing left for his opponent to hit.”
Arguably the story that best epitomises Jenkins is his 1941 bout with Lou Ambes, in front of over 15,000 people. With just two hours remaining before the fight started, Jenkins was found drinking whiskey in the corner of a bar. He fought drunk, but, as was the case on numerous occasions, he won by knockout.
While he could never truly commit to boxing, largely wasting his natural talent, the army was different. He was in the prime of his career, and sacrificed it to serve his country.
Pantalone said: “Jenkins started turning his life around in WWII when he volunteered for the Coast Guard. Reading that is when I really became fascinated by him.
“Jenkins actually landed British troops at Normandy beach. He was under intense enemy fire. The British even gave him a citation for his bravery.”
Nonetheless, Jenkins wasn’t satisfied with his Coast Guard role. In fact, he felt ashamed.
“Even though he was under intense fire, and people thought he was brave, he felt like a coward. Landing the troops, watching the guys he put down on the ground get shot as he was putting them down — he vowed to himself he would never do that again.
“All he wanted to do, from the end of WWII until he finally got his chance at the Korean War, was to be a front-line soldier.”
The Korean War was his opportunity for self-redemption. A chance to fight on the front-line. He arguably surpassed expectation and was awarded a Silver Star for his services.
Jenkins earned his military reputation at Bloody Ridge and Heartbreak Ridge, two of the fiercest battles in history. During Bloody Ridge, the company under Jenkins’ command was largely obliterated — only 17 soldiers, including Jenkins, survived from 160.
“I was actually able to talk to one of the survivors [93-year-old Ronald E. Rosser, a forward observer] who was a Medal of Honour recipient,” Pantalone said. “He said that he was part of a squad Jenkins put together. The stories he told me were just horrific.”
Rosser said that Jenkins made several trips — completely alone — from their base to the ammunition dump under intense enemy fire, allowing the machine guns to stay loaded. This act of bravery earned him the Silver Star.
“I also spoke to his son and had email correspondences with one of his grandsons,” Pantalone explained, “which helped me get a lot of information I wouldn’t have otherwise been able to have.
“Especially when his son was in Germany and met famous actor Steve McQueen. He walked into his house and there was his father, sitting with Steve, Charles Bronson and James Garner, all filming a movie called ‘The Great Escape’.
“Steve actually wanted to make a movie about Jenkins’ life, but said he would have to tone it down to make it more believable.”
What’s most salient about Jenkins’ story is how starkly he contrasts modern-day boxers. Those at the pinnacle bicker over who’s the ‘A-side’ fighter, who walks to the ring first and how best to divide the money. Jenkins, though, cared little. He fought anyone and everyone, regardless of his own condition, even after voluntary war services.
“Nowadays, you might be lucky to see top boxers fight twice a year. Some have an even longer gap. Back in the 1920s-50s, these guys fought once a month if not every couple of weeks. You can see on YouTube how fierce the fights were, yet they were back at it two weeks later.
“It’s probably better today. They’re looking more towards the safety of the boxer. But Jenkins had over 100 fights listed, and there were a lot of unrecorded fights. He probably fought 300-400 times.”
For Pantalone, though, it was Jenkins’ transformation that he found most impressive.
“Just my favourite thing about the man is the way he concurred his drinking problem and his wildness. You think of all his boxing fights and the wars he fought in, and afterwards he said his two toughest opponents were Jack Daniels and Harley Davidsons.”
The character of Lew Jenkins is perfectly summed up in this line. Courageous, yet troubled. While he turned his life around after the wars, he also squandered his remarkable natural talent through alcohol abuse and a lack of motivation. His story is incredible nonetheless, one told in exquisite detail by Gene Pantalone.
In 1940, Lou Jenkins knocked out the great "Herkimer Hurricane" Lou Ambers in three rounds, and became world lightweight champion. Nine months later in the rematch, Jenkins stopped him in seven rounds. It was the only two times in Lou Ambers' legendary career that he was knocked out.
I actually own this type 1 original photo of Lou Jenkins knocking out Lou Ambers, it's one of the best items in my collection, Jenkins looks so menacing, his arms, it looks like he's carrying two sawed-off shotguns and he just blasted Ambers. It's absolutely fascinating, looking at Jenkins in this photo, he doesn't look like much physically, but man he could whack, you just wonder how the heck he generated that kind of power.
Unfortunately, there's no existing fight film of Lou Jenkins. It's frustrating, and if I could watch any fighter on film, he would be one of them. I would love to see him on film, his power. Luckily, we at least have a few good photos.
Lou Jenkins in his military days.
Lou Jenkins riding his motorcycle with the great light heavyweight Billy Conn on the back.
Lou Jenkins getting his hands taped before a fight.
One of my favorite images of Jenkins.
Lou Jenkins,"The Sweetwater Swatter." It's a darn shame that there's zero film of him to show.
In 1919, Harry Greb, "The Pittsburgh Windmill", went 45-0 in fights. During that stretch, he beat Billy Brennan x4, Billy Miske, Mike Gibbons, Jeff Smith, Battling Levinsky X4, Mike McTigue, and Leo Houck X4. His resume that year alone is better than most fighters entire career resumes. Most casual boxing fans have never even heard of Harry Greb. He has the best entire career resume in boxing history.
Fun fact, Len Wickwar was a British boxer who competed from 1928–1947, primarily as a lightweight. He holds the record for the most professional fights in history, with 473 bouts and 4,020 rounds over his 19-year career. Wickwar's record is considered unbreakable due to the different nature of boxing in his era. Fighters often competed multiple times a month to make a living, with fewer regulations and quicker fight arrangements.
Time for a little music break, this masterpiece from the 80s should do.
A masterful performance by the great WBC lightweight champion Alexis Arguello gave the inevitable end to his defense against Ray Mancini at Ballys Hotel in Atlantic City, New Jersey in 1981.
20-year-old Mancini, fighting for the lightweight belt his father never had a chance for, was stopped at 1 minute 46 seconds of the 14th round.
'Boom Boom' Mancini, ahead early although never in command, was thoroughly beaten by the classy champion from Nicaragua, who won his 16th straight title fight, 14th by knockout.
Even as Referee Tony Perez stepped in to stop the fight, an Arguello left hook sent Mancini down for the second time.
At ringside, in a wheelchair following a double coronary bypass, was Mancini's father, Lenny 'Boom Boom' Mancini.
When the older Mancini was guaranteed a title shot at Sammy Angott in 1941, he was the No.1 lightweight contender. But World War II intervened. Mancini Junior devoted himself to capturing the championship that his father never got a chance to win.
"I told him I'm sorry and like all fathers do, he comforted me," said a tearful Mancini after the fight. "You did beautifully," interrupted Arguello, who then consoled the youngster. It was the 55th knockout for Arguello, who has also held the WBC featherweight and super-featherweight titles.
Joe Smith Jr. , is called "The Common Man", a nickname that reflects his quiet, blue-collar persona and his background as a Union 66 laborer who worked a day job while pursuing his boxing career. He is also called "The Irish Bomber", a nickname that reflects his brutal punching power. In 2020, he knocked out Eleider Alvarez, sending him through the ropes, with a beautiful one, two, combination of a straight right hand and a straight left hand. The victory was an impressive one for Smith, as Alvarez had only ever lost once before but never finished — with the hard-hitting Russian fighter Sergey Kovalev exchanging a win and a loss with Alvarez in a two-fight rivalry two years prior.
"Coming into this camp, I knew I had to work on my boxing," said Smith post-fight. I wanted to be sharp, throw a lot of straight punches."
"I watched his fight with Kovalev, and Kovalev kind of set the way to beat him. So we watched that and worked off of it."
"I knew coming in today I had to box a little more because he's got that great right hand. He caught me with it a couple times, but I can take a punch, too.
"Every time he hit me, I wanted to come and stop him in his tracks, and I did that. I stuck to my game plan, and it was a great fight."
Ironically, it wasn't the first time Joe Smith Jr. knocked an opponent through the ropes. In 2016, Smith Jr. defeated the great Bernard Hopkins by TKO when he knocked him through the ropes and out of the ring, bringing an end to the legendary career of Hopkins.
In a brilliant fight, Arturo Gatti scored a stunning fifth-round knockout of Gabriel Ruelas to retain his IBF super-featherweight title on the Lennox Lewis-Andrew Golota undercard in Atlantic City on this day in 1997.
Gatti, boxing's most exciting fighter, put on another thriller against former world champion Ruelas. Gatti was in desperate trouble in the fourth round – at times he was almost out on his feet.
But Gatti recovered in between rounds and came out bouncing for the fifth. He caught Ruelas with a stunning left hook that landed squarely on the challenger's chin and dropped him to the canvas. Ruelas was up at the count of eight, but Referee Benjy Esteves stopped the fight.
"It was a very hard fight, and it could have gone either way," Gatti said. "But I expected it to go that way. He hurt me in the fourth round. He's a very strong fighter. He took a lot out of me in the beginning."
Gene Tunney, "The Fighting Marine", was a thinking fighter who preferred to make a boxing match into a game of chess, which was not popular during the times when such sluggers as Jack Dempsey, Harry Greb and Mickey Walker were commanding center stage. Tunney's style was influenced by other noted boxing thinkers such as James J. Corbett and Benny Leonard. Nevertheless, it is incorrect to think of Tunney as a stick-and-move fighter in the Ali style. While Tunney's heavyweight fights against Gibbons, Carpentier, and Dempsey featured his fleet-footed movement and rapid-fire jabbing, his earlier bouts, especially the five against Harry Greb, demonstrated his vicious body punching and willingness to fight toe-to-toe. It was Benny Leonard who advised Tunney that the only way to beat Harry "The Human Windmill" Greb was to aim his punches at Greb's body rather than his head. Always moving and boxing behind an excellent left jab, Tunney would study his opponents from the first bell. He generally preferred to stay outside and nullify any attacks, while using quick counters to keep the opponent off balance. Although not a big puncher, Tunney could still hit with power, especially after hurting his opponents and mastering their styles. In his fights against Jack Dempsey, today's viewer can see Tunney's style: hands held low for greater power, fast footwork that adjusts to every move his opponent makes and quick and accurate one-two style counter-punches with the left and right. Tunney did own a very solid chin. He was never knocked out, and the only time he was ever knocked down was in the second fight with Dempsey in the infamous Long Count.
Speaking of James J. Corbett, "Gentleman Jim", he is considered the father of modern boxing, of scientific boxing, he was really the first "thinking man's" fighter. Before Corbett, boxing was basically a barbaric, bloody sport, which consisted of two men slugging it out. Corbett brought science into the fight game, how to study your opponents, out think them strategically, that was James J. Corbett. He became world heavyweight champion in 1892 when he dethroned the great John L. Sullivan, the 1 on Sullivan's 47-1 record, that's Corbett.
A NEW BREED of boxer was born when James J. Corbett won the heavyweight title from John L. Sullivan in 1892. Corbett was an educated man who practiced the science of boxing. He broke the mold of the stereotypical brawling prizefighter.
Corbett was born on September 1, 1866 in San Francisco. He was raised in a middle class home, attended college and even worked as a bank clerk. He learned his boxing not on the streets but in sparring clubs. He learned how to box under the guidance of Walter Watson at San Francisco's Olympic Club.
Because of his handsome appearance and classy ring style, he earned such nicknames as Handsome Jim, Pompadour Jim and finally, Gentleman Jim.
Corbett's first pro fight came when he was 18 and he knocked out Frank Smith. Gentleman Jim's career took off, however, with a three-fight series against fellow Hall of Famer Joe Choynski. They met three times in a three month span in 1889. The first bout was a no contest after four rounds. Corbett won the second with a 27th-round knockout and the third with a four-round decision. The first fight was interrupted by police, but the middle bout, contested six days later, was an epic contest fought on a barge in San Francisco Bay. The seams from Choynski's gloves cut Corbett in round three. And later in the fight Corbett broke his left hand. Yet, he managed to summon enough power to knockout Choynski with a left hook.
The next year he won a four-round decision over the legendary heavyweight Jake Kilrain. Then in 1891 he fought a 61-round battle with fellow hall-of-famer Peter Jackson, which was ruled a no contest. A month after that bout, Corbett boxed a four-round exhibition with John L. Sullivan, giving him a preview of things to come.
The much anticipated Sullivan-Corbett fight took place on September 7, 1892 in New Orleans. It was the first heavyweight championship bout in which the participants wore gloves. Corbett, with Professor Mike Donovan in his corner, boxed brilliantly. He countered sharply and managed to sidestep Sullivan's bullish charges. In the 21st round, Sullivan was exhausted and Corbett pounded the champion into submission, knocking him out with a right hand.
In 1894, Corbett successfully defended the title with a third-round knockout over Charley Mitchell. He would lose the crown in his next defense as Bob Fitzsimmons kayoed him in the 14th round in 1897.
In 1900, Corbett challenged heavyweight king James J. Jeffries -- who was his former sparring partner -- and was knocked out in the 23rd round. They fought a rematch in 1903 and this time Jeffries scored a 10th-round kayo. In between the two Jeffries fights, Corbett knocked out middleweight champion Charles "Kid" McCoy in the fifth round.
Corbett performed on the stage during his reign as heavyweight champion and continued his acting career well into his retirement.
This is my favorite photo of James J. Corbett, in his prime, with the American flag wrapped around his waist, about to put in some road work on a bike. This photo had to be taken in the late 1890s, I would love to own the original.
This is another one of my favorite photos of James J. Corbett, looking dapper in his tuxedo with the brick wall behind him.
This is so cool, it's an original ticket for the heavyweight fight between James J. Corbett and John L Sullivan in 1892, slabbed by PSA.
James J. Corbett literally wrote the book on scientific boxing.
In James J. Corbett's own words, how he beat John L Sullivan.
James J. Corbett and John L. Sullivan face to face years after their historic heavyweight title fight in 1892
"Gentleman Jim" Corbett Knocks Out
John L. Sullivan became a legend in his own time. He had won the Heavyweight Championship title in 1882 and had successfully defended it for 10 years. He was the last of the bare-knuckle champions who pounded each other without gloves for hours in marathon matches that lasted for as many as 75 rounds. Sullivan rose to the pinnacle of his profession at a time when many states and local jurisdictions outlawed boxing matches giving the sport a status that lay somewhere between marginal respectability and outright criminal behavior. Nonetheless, Sullivan's championship matches attracted thousands.
The introduction of the Marquis of Queensberry rules improved the status of professional boxing by regulating the participants' behavior and dampening the potential barbarism of the ring. At the same time, the boxing clubs that formed the foundation of the sport standardized the various weight classes. Boxing was making a transition to a legitimate, money-making form of sport.
Jim Corbett represented the new age of boxing. He had learned his craft not on the street but from a coach. He had attended college and worked as a bank clerk before turning to the sport. He began his career in 1886 and had fought all of his matches wearing gloves and under Queensberry rules. Because he wore his hair in a full-grown pompadour, dressed smartly and used excellent grammar when he spoke, he became known as "Gentleman Jim."
On September 7, 1892 the two men met in New Orleans in a Heavyweight Championship match governed by the Queensbury rules. The Sullivan-Corbett fight of 1892 marks a watershed for professional boxing as the sport moved out of the shadows of criminality into the realm of acceptable public entertainment.
"He came out of his corner like a roaring lion."
A crowd of over 10,000 men - and a few women - jammed the arena. Sullivan weighed in at 212 lbs. - 25 lbs. heavier than his challenger. The betting was heavy. Two thousand miles away and connected by telegraph, beacon lights atop New York City's Pulitzer Building alerted the fans below as to which fighter was winning - red for Sullivan, white for Corbett. Jim Corbett later published a book describing that night. We join his account as the first round begins:
"Now, I knew that the most dangerous thing I could do was to let Sullivan work me into a corner when I was a little tired or dazed, so I made up my mind that I would let him do this while I was still fresh. Then I could find out what he intended doing when he got me there. In a fight, you know, when a man has you where he wants you, he is going to deliver the best goods he has.
From the beginning of the round Sullivan was aggressive-wanted to eat me up right away. He came straight for me and I backed and backed, finally into a corner. While I was there I observed him setting himself for a right-hand swing, first slapping himself on the thigh with his left hand-sort of a trick to balance himself for a terrific swing with his right. But before he let the blow go, just at the right instant, I sidestepped out of the corner and was back in the middle of the ring again, Sullivan hot after me.
I allowed him to back me into all four corners, and he thought he was engineering all this, that it was his own work that was cornering me. But I had learned what I wanted to know - just where to put my head to escape his blow if he should get me cornered and perhaps dazed. He had shown his hand to me.
John L. Sullivan
In the second round he was still backing me around the ring. I hadn't even struck at him yet, and the audience on my right hissed me for running away and began to call me 'Sprinter.' Now I could see at a glance that Sullivan was not quite near enough to hit me, so suddenly I turned my side to him, waved both hands to the audience and called out, 'Wait a while! You'll see a fight.'
...So far Sullivan hadn't reached me with anything but glancing blows, and it was my intention, when the third round started, to hit him my first punch, and I felt that it must be a good one! If my first punch didn't hurt him, he was going to lose all respect for my hitting ability.
So, with mind thoroughly made up, I allowed him to back me once more into a corner. But although this time I didn't intend to slip out, by my actions I indicated that I was going to, just as I had before. As we stood there, fiddling, he crowding almost on top of me, I glanced, as I had always done before, first to the left, then to the right, as if looking for some way to get out of this corner. He, following my and thinking I wanted to make a getaway, determined that he wouldn't let me out this time!
For once he failed to slap himself on the thigh with his left hand, but he had his right hand all ready for the swing as he was gradually crawling up on me. Then, just as he finally set himself to let go a vicious right I beat him to it and loosed a left-hand for his face with all the power I had behind it. His head went back and I followed it up with a couple of other punches and slugged him back over the ring and into his corner. When the round was over his nose was broken.
At once there was pandemonium in the audience! All over the house, men stood on their chairs, coats off, swinging them in the air. You could have heard the yells clear to the Mississippi River!
But the uproar only made Sullivan the more determined. He came out of his corner in the fourth like a roaring lion, with an uglier scowl than ever, and bleeding considerably at the nose. I felt sure now that I would beat him, so made up my mind that, though it would take a little longer, I would play safe.
"Gentleman Jim" Corbett
From that time on I started doing things the audience were seeing for the first time, judging from the way they talked about the fight afterwards. I would work a left-hand on the nose, then a hook into the stomach, a hook up on the jaw again, a great variety of blows, in fact; using all the time such quick side-stepping and footwork that the audience seemed to be delighted and a little bewildered, as was also Mr. Sullivan. That is, bewildered, for I don't think he was delighted.
In the twelfth round we clinched, and, with the referee's order, 'Break away,' I dropped my arms, when Sullivan let go a terrific right-hand swing from which I just barely got away; as it was it just grazed the top of my head. Some in the audience began to shout 'foul!' but I smiled and shook my head, to tell them, 'I don't want it that way.'
When we came up for the twenty-first round it looked as if the fight would last ten or fifteen rounds longer. Right away I went up to him, feinted with my left and hit him with a left-hand hook alongside the jaw pretty hard, and I saw his eyes roll. . . . Summoning all the reserve force I had left I let my guns go, right and left, with all the dynamite Nature had given me, and Sullivan stood dazed and rocking. So I set myself for an instant, put just 'a little more' in a right and hit him alongside the jaw. And he fell helpless on the ground, on his stomach, and rolled over on his back! The referee, his seconds and mine picked him up and put him in his corner; and the audience went wild."
Corbett in his prime.
Corbett at a training session in 1897.
The actual footage of a 59 year old James J. Corbett sparring with Gene Tunney, both were great thinkers in the ring and Tunney really admired Corbett and sought his advice. This film is absolutely fascinating and priceless.
Tunney with Corbett again.
Great shot of Corbett in his prime.
Epic image of Corbett working the heavy bag in the darkness.
This is one of my favorite images of Corbett, with the stone background, it makes it look like he's standing in the Roman Colosseum in it's day.
Corbett with Babe Ruth.
Corbett in his ride.
The great James J. Corbett, "Gentleman Jim", the father of modern boxing.
"Sailor" Tom Sharkey with the cauliflower ear visible, this is a really rare shot of Sharkey because he didn't like to show his cauliflower ear. Sharkey was a beast of a fighter, the kind of guy you practically had to try and kill him to beat him. He was known for being able to take ungodly amounts of punishment and keep coming after you. Just put it this way, the only way I would step into the ring with Sharkey is if I was armed with a baseball bat with nails sticking out of it. And I still might lose.
"Sailor" Tom Sharkey was intimidating as hell, he had these freakishly muscular legs, and a navy tattoo on his chest, there wasn't an ounce of fat on the guy, he was a monster of a fighter.
"I fought them all. The bigger they were, the better I liked it. I knew I could cut them down to my size." -Tom Sharkey
Sharkey fought everyone, facing the likes of John L. Sullivan, "Gentleman Jim" Corbett, Bob Fitzsimmons and "The Boilermaker" Jim Jeffries. He went 45 rounds with Jim Jeffries in two bloody wars.
With 34 of his 37 wins coming inside the distance, Sharkey is one of boxing's biggest hitters of all time.
One of the great boxing photos, Roy Jones Jr. with the spiked dog collar.
Legendary boxing trainer Emanuel Steward and Hilmer Kenty, the first world champion to come out of Steward's famous Kronk Gym in Detroit, Michigan.
KRONK’S FIRST CHAMP
The Kronk Gym is known as a legendary place in Detroit when it comes to boxing and while perhaps bigger names have come out of that gym, their first champion was Hilmer Kenty who was the first boxing champion out of Detroit since Joe Louis.
Hilmer was born in Texas but moved to Columbus, Ohio early in his childhood. He had three brothers who all played different sports, football, basketball and baseball, but Hilmer never excelled at any of those mainstream sports, until he discovered boxing at twelve years of age. Right away his coach saw that he had a lot of natural abilities when it came to fighting, as proven when Kenty won his first eight fights. He would go on to spend nine years as an amateur winning the National AAU Lightweight championship in 1974 and 1976. He beat Aaron Pryor in the 1976 national A.A.U. Golden Gloves and attempted to make the Olympics in 1972 and 1976.
After the Olympic trials, Hilmer retired from amateur fighting and helped coach younger kids. During that time he watched a friend and his brother turn professional, which was something his coach frowned upon. As an amateur, Hilmer had already met Kronk Gym trainer Emmanuel Steward and boxer Tommy “The Hitman” Hearns. They made Hilmer feel like there were a lot of quality fighters in Detroit so he joined Kronk. The Kronk had both amateur and pro boxers that would help get him ready for pro fights by sparring with them in the basement of the gym. “It was the best place in the world to work out,” Kenty says about the basement of Kronk.
In 1980, he made it to the championship match against Ernesto España. Although the fight was originally not going to be on television, ABC had cancelled coverage of another boxing match and picked up Kenty vs España instead. “I always pretended Howard Cosell was calling my fight,” Hilmer said when he shadow boxed when he was young. “Then, he would interview me after the fight.” This fight was a dream come true and Hilmer knew as soon as the bell rang he would be the champion. However he quickly got a reality check when he ducked into a punch in the first round and was knocked down. After refocusing himself, he beat España very decisively. Although Kenty was the first champion for Emmanuel Steward, Hilmer gives Hearns a lot of credit and thought Tommy deserved that honor more than him. Hearns had stuck his neck out for Kenty and he also made Steward more money which helped moved them all up in the boxing world.
Over the next year Kenty defended his title four times. He succeeded each time until 1981 against Sean O’Grady. Leading up to that fight, Hilmer had a detached retina and a bad case of pneumonia. On top of that, Kenty did not feel mentally prepared for the fight. After 15 rounds, O’Grady finally dethroned him and Hilmer began to consider retirement. After that fight, fighters that used to be easy for him to beat while training got a lot harder to beat and Kenty felt his body was not what it used to be. As a boxer, he knew only one punch could ruin someone’s life when it came to injuries, so he hung up the gloves.
Hilmer Kenty peeled himself off the canvas and became Kronk Gym's first world champion when he captured the WBA lightweight title with a 9th round TKO of Ernesto España at Joe Louis Arena in Detroit, Michigan in 1980.
Kenty entered the fight at 16-0 with 12 KO, but España's punching power and edge in experience made him a clear favorite. Emanuel Steward, leader of Detroit's Kronk Gym, said the fight was more of a toss-up than oddsmakers believed, and as usual, he was right.
In round 1, España caught Kenty with a hook and then a headbutt as he waded in, and Kenty went down. It wasn't a clean knockdown, but Kenty got up anyway and resumed jabbing his way to winning points. A low lead hand, which some would later say was a Kronk Gym calling card, kept Kenty's jab in España's face.
Kenty looked to be in trouble in round 8, but he would later claim he had a cramp in his leg that prevented him from moving. The following round, likely sensing his title slipping from his grasp, España lashed out like a wounded animal. Kenty punished him with a number of right hands that hurt the champion and put him against the ropes. España staggered across the ring and Kenty attacked, swarming against a completely helpless España and forcing a stoppage.
The Detroit crowd of about 13,000 went wild for Kenty. Meanwhile España wasn't sure where he was.
"I don't think he ever saw the punch that hurt him," Kenty said. "I knew it would be easy to hit him. I thought I could dominate him."
Hilmer Kenty with Tommy "The Hitman" Hearns.
Great shot of Kenty and Steward.
I love watching Kenty on film, he was a brilliant technician with solid fundamentals.
September 20, 1996, David Tua scored a one-punch 1st round KO of Darroll Wilson in Miami, Florida. A single short left hook caught Wilson in close and laid him out flat.
One of the greatest weapons in boxing history, the Tua left hook.
David Tua on his devastating left hook...
"It started way back when I was young in Samoa. When I was asked to go and cut the grass I did it with my left. Even though I was right-handed, dad would say 'no, no, use the left'. So for some crazy reason it would have developed some kind of strength through it. Going into boxing, the left hook seemed natural, but the timing and to perfect it, how to throw it properly, was another matter."
David Tua was built like a damn tree trunk, this helped him generate his murderous punching power as well.
This was certainly one for the books. On September 27, 1980 in one of boxing’s ugliest moments, “Marvelous” Marvin Hagler defeated Alan Minter by TKO in Round 3 at Wembley Arena for the WBA & WBC Middleweight Titles. Just days before the fight, Minter uttered words he would later retract, saying “No black man is going to take my title.” Hagler showed no mercy, opening cuts on Minter’s face until the referee stopped the fight in round three. Minter's cuts were so severe that there was simply no way for the fight to continue; Minter would receive 15 stitches later that evening. What followed was pandemonium—fans rioted, forcing police to shield Hagler and his team. The worst emanated from the booze fueled British fans after the bout, when they hurled beer bottles and cans in the ring. Promoter Micky Duff was embarrassed on the night, apologizing profusely to Hagler, and not holding back on his opinion of the perpetrators, "There were 10,000 there and there were a maximum of 15 to 20 people involved. They were animals". Despite the madness, this moment marked the start of one of the greatest title reigns in boxing history, proving Hagler’s toughness inside and outside the ring.
It was the great Jack Dempsey, "The Manassa Mauler", that pretty much made boxing American’s biggest sport. When he beat a 6'7" champion who weighed 60 lbs heavier than him. Jack Dempsey fought like a man escaping poverty, because he was. Born to a poor mining family in Colorado, he traveled the country hopping freight trains on his own, fighting for spare change in saloons and mining towns. He punched with savagery, breaking jaws and drawing crowds with his ferocity. Dempsey's demolition of the 6' 7" Jess Willard in 1919, where he dropped the giant champion seven times in one round, shocked the world. Dempsey weighed almost 60 lbs less than Willard at the time. Dempsey became the first true celebrity heavyweight, drawing millions and turning boxing into America's biggest sport.
Dempsey vs Willard -1919
On July 4th, 1919, Jess Willard AKA “The Potawatomi Giant” slumped into the corner of the ring after Jack Dempsey AKA "Kid Blackie", AKA "The Manassa Mauler", had destroyed the champion with a savage beating many of the fans present had rarely seen before. Willard had in fact killed a man in the ring in 1913 named Jack “Bull” Young. Willard had hit him so hard in the head that a piece of his broken jaw was driven into his head, Jack Young would die in the 9th round. Jess Willard's notoriety was real, having killed a man in the ring, and he was charged with second degree murder. He fought the charges in court and won. Two years later he was the world heavyweight champion having beaten Jack Johnson for the heavyweight title in 1915 in Havana Cuba. With his solid reputation intact, Willard agreed to fight a new young boxer named Jack Dempsey. Born of mixed heritage and one of 13 siblings, Dempsey’s career was about to go into the next level when the 6’1″, 187 pound Dempsey stepped into the ring to fight Willard in Toledo Ohio on July 4th 1919. The much smaller Dempsey had been bothered by Willard’s remarks before the fight. Willard had claimed that “This will be the easiest fight of my career,” and referred to how he was happy to bring the title belt back to the ‘white race.” Dempsey held onto the remarks and used them to fire the raging flames that burned within him. Thirty seconds into the first round Dempsey hit the champion with a huge left and broke his jaw in over a dozen places, knocking him to the mat. Willard rose and was knocked down 7 times in that first round and suffered tremendous damage at the hands of the challenger. To Willard's credit he lasted until the start of the fourth round where he failed to answer the bell, his jaw broken in multiple places, a broken cheek bone, broken ribs, permanent hearing loss and missing teeth. Dempsey would go onto become the king of the roaring 1920s and defend the title for 6 years. Willard would retire and only box again for exhibitions.
It was one of the worst beatings in a boxing ring ever seen.