Sammy Angott, known as "The Clutch," was a lightweight world champion in the 1940s, known for his awkward style and exceptional defensive skills. He earned the nickname "The Clutch" for grabbing his opponent and clinching them following clean punches he landed on them, he did this to spoil their attacks, making it difficult for his opponents to get any type of offense going against him, a very clever if unpopular technique. He also used a stinging jab and fast, hard hooks to wear down his opponents. Sammy Angott was not considered a fan favorite but he was a tough, scrappy infighter with a granite chin, he was never knocked out in over 130 fights. Angott often fought in the Lightweight Division and sometimes Welterweight Division but early in his career he had bouts in the Featherweight Division. He has wins over Wesley Ramey, Petey Sarron, Freddie Miller, Willie Pep, Baby Arizmendi, Johnny Bratton, Lew Jenkins, Bob Montgomery, Ike Williams, and Kid Azteca, that's one f@#$ of a resume, a true all-time great. Angott was inducted into the Ring Boxing Hall of Fame in 1973 and the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1998.
Sammy Angott was the first and only man to defeat a prime Willie Pep, breaking up one of the greatest unbeaten streaks in boxing history. On March 19th, 1943, Willie Pep was 62-0 going into his fight against Sammy Angott. Astonishingly, after his loss to Angott, Pep would put together another ridiculous unbeaten streak, going 72-0-1 before losing his featherweight title to Sandy Saddler.
The United Press reported:
"Angott, who retired as 135-pound ruler in November because of bad hands, was equipped with two good fists last night, and he kept them so busy that he won six rounds on the United Press score sheet, while Pep won three and one was even.
It was a rough, entertaining brawl in which there were no outright knockdowns, although both slipped to the canvas in the seventh session after missing blows, and Angott was on the deck twice in the eighth because of a slip and a defensive spin that followed a punch. Angott suffered a gashed upper left eyelid in the fifth round when their heads came together, and Pep's right cheek was puffed up like a balloon from innumerable left hooks. Angott took command of the bout at the first bell and won four of the first five rounds, the fourth going to Willie.
They fought on even terms in the sixth. Then Pep lifted the pace and won the seventh and eighth. Entering the ninth, it appeared that 20-year-old Pep's youth, speed and stamina would pull victory out of the fire. But in that ninth session Angott wrapped up victory by jack-knifing his lighter opponent with a left hook to the body and following with a barrage of hooks to the head. Pep fought desperately in the tenth, but blows to the midriff in the ninth left him so weakened that Angott won that session and the fight."
THE 100 GREATEST BOXERS OF ALL-TIME #82: SAMMY ANGOTT
By: Kenneth Bridgham
“THE CLUTCH”
94 WINS (22 BY KO), 29 LOSSES, 8 DRAWS
NBA Lightweight Titleholder 1940–1942, 1943–1944
World Lightweight Champion 1941–1942
International Boxing Hall of Fame Inductee 1992
Nat Fleischer, the founder of The Ring magazine, once called Sammy Angott the least popular champion in the history of the lightweight division. But popularity does not win fights, skills and talent do. Angott was a terrific ring battler who faced the best featherweights, lightweights, and welterweights of the 1930s and 1940s. You can’t beat Willie Pep in his prime and not be a great fighter. Despite this, fans and sportswriters considered his frequent use of clinching a bore. Hence his nickname among those in the fight game, “The Clutch.”
Still, he was at least popular enough to be in the same room with film star Rita Hayworth, as seen above. Popular or not, Angott won often, and he held some version of the lightweight (135 pounds) championship on and off again for a period that spanned four years.
Savvy and scrappy, Angott came from Washington, Pennsylvania, not far south of Pittsburgh, but he fought all over the eastern and midwestern states early in his career, with Louisville, Kentucky as his base of operations for years. He was a hard-traveling fighter who often fought opponents in their hometowns. After turning pro at age 20 in 1935, he fought his early bouts in DC, New York City, Pittsburgh, Louisville, Chicago, Milwaukee, Dallas, and New Orleans before getting his first shot at a major belt in 1940. His record was spotted with losses in those early years, but between 1938 and 1939, he went 22–2 to earn recognition as one of the division’s leading contenders.
On May 3, 1940, Sammy won the National Boxing Association’s recognition as lightweight champion with a 15-round decision over Davey Day at the Jefferson County Armory in Louisville. The true, lineal champion at this time was Lou Ambers. Ambers eventually lost the championship to Texas puncher Lew Jenkins. On December 19, 1941, eleven days after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Angott and Jenkins did battle for the undisputed title before 11,346 fans at Madison Square Garden in New York. Though fans booed Angott’s punch-and-hold style, he won a unanimous decision to secure the lightweight crown. All three judges gave 13 rounds to Angott and only two rounds to Jenkins.
Angott may have only defended the championship successfully once (a decision over Allie Stolz), but his most impressive wins in this period were two terrific performances against future champion and Hall of Famer Bob Montgomery in non-title fights. In the first match, on March 6, 1942, in the Garden, he put Montgomery on the floor twice. In the second, in front of 16,000 fans at Shibe Park in Philadelphia, he built up a strong lead to overcome a late Montgomery comeback and secure the decision win.
At the close of 1942, Sammy stunned the boxing world by announcing his retirement at just 27 years of age, citing an injured hand. He briefly went to work in a factory to help with the war effort.
Changing his mind about retirement by March of the next year, Angott returned to the ring without his championship, but he showed no ring rust in picking up the most important win of his career: a thorough domination of the marvelously talented featherweight champion Pep through a 10-round non-title match at the Garden. Before that, future Hall of Famer Pep had been undefeated in 62 pro outings; many consider him the greatest featherweight in the sport’s history.
Seven months later, Angott resecured the NBA’s lightweight belt (again, not lineal) with a decision over Luther “Slugger” White in Los Angeles’s Gilmore Stadium. He lost that belt to the tough Juan Zurita in 1944 and retired in 1950 at the age of 35, having only been stopped once (by future Hall of Famer Beau Jack) in 131 prize fights.
Angott’s lack of popularity and lack of hitting power (Only 23% of his wins came by knockout) frequently keep him out of other lists of all-time greats, but his resumé speaks for itself. He may have only won half of his 18 bouts against world champions or Hall of Famers, but when you consider that Sugar Ray Robinson, Henry Armstrong, and Willie Pep (arguably the three best non-heavyweight boxers ever) were among those 18, that is more than an impressive legacy. It is an all-time great one.
Sammy Angott is honestly one of my favorite fighters, I love his style, down in the trenches, clinching and mauling the hell out of you. Nothing fancy about it, just effective brutality.
Credit: boxing forum 24
"He was the first to beat Willie Pep...He went the distance with the prime, vicious welterweight Robinson 3 times...He fought one of the hardest hitting lightweights in Ike Williams, 3 times, getting decisioned twice, but winning the last fight against Williams by 6th round stoppage...He fought just about every top name from his era...Who would you take to equal the feats of Sammy Angott? I've only seen Angott highlights twice on film...His third fight with Robinson, and the first Zivic fight...Angott fights very aggressively, with a mauling attack...'The Clutch' is aptly named."
"Angott is a very underrated fighter who would pose stylistic nightmares for anyone not extremely powerful or as adept as he was at fighting in a clinch.
He was a kind of defensively better Ricky Hatton. Very hard to keep off with movement alone. You needed to be able to hold your own in the trenches or hit like a mule if you wanted to have a chance of getting the better of him.
Infighting and power weren't Willie's forte, and with Pep fighting against a naturally stronger Angott, it was always going to be trouble for him.
I think Angott, with a fairly lenient ref is a good bet to beat someone like Floyd Mayweather at lightweight. He won't take the shots Hatton did, but he will be on Floyd and forcing him to fight in clinches. He could scrap away a win there.
Angott's record against slick boxer types is outstanding, beating Pep, Montgomery (x 3), Miller, Sarron and quite a few others as well."
On May 3, 1940 at the Armory in Louisville Sammy Angott and Davey Day battled for vacant NBA world lightweight title. Angott prevailed winning a 15 round decision and the title. The NBA title had been stripped from Lou Ambers for his failure to meet Davey Day in a title fight. Davey Day, a top contender in the 1930s and 40s, was known by several nicknames due to his lean build and defensive skills, most notably "The Human String Bean" and sometimes "The Dean of Defense," and even "The Human Skeleton". He was famous for being incredibly difficult to cut, going his entire career without suffering a single eye cut. Day was tough as nails, full of heart, and he could lay a beating on you. He and Angott fought three times, Angott won the series 2-1. This is the only photo I can find of Day and Angott, I believe this is from the fight in which Angott won the NBA lightweight title, Day is on the left and Angott on the right.
On December 19th, 1941, Sammy Angott won recognition as the undisputed world lightweight champion when he defeated Lew Jenkins, "The Sweetwater Swatter" by unanimous decision. This is a photo of Sammy Angott and Lew Jenkins at a weigh-in before there fight, I would love to own the type 1 original photo of this image, two beasts right here, both staring at each other with murder in their eye. Lew Jenkins was one of the hardest punching lightweights in history and Angott was a rugged infighting mauler and it's just a sick image of both of them and I would love to own it.
Another fascinating write-up on Sammy Angott, God I swear this is so fascinating, "a marauding tangle weed", that is absolute gold. This is so fascinating, such a fascinating fighter with a fascinating style. I live for this stuff.
Samuel Engotti, the former lightweight king from Washington, Pennsylvania, was known as “The Clutch” based on his penchant for swaddling opponents after launching an attack. Stout, pugnacious and wild in the clinches, Angott made good men look plain.
A marauding tangle weed that burrowed in with his head, Angott grappled his way to the world title when he mugged Texan “Looney” Lew Jenkins in 1941. Hand problems clipped short his tenure, yet only 4 months after he had been forced to abdicate from an 11 month reign, Angott rebounded to blot the copybook of one Willie Pep, then 62-0. An expert at crowding and mauling, he harassed Pep like a street corner pitchman.
Sammy went down thrice to Sugar Ray Robinson, in scuffles that resembled a man attempting to flush a spider down a sink hole, but his approach fared him better in wins over Bob “Bobcat” Montgomery, Baby Arizmendi and Ike Willams. Angott retired to Masillion, Ohio, where he worked in the shipping department at the Yale, Towne and Eaton Manufacturing Co.
Henry Armstrong grapples with "The Clutch" Sammy Angott in their 1943 fight at Madison Square Garden. Man, this would have been a fun fight to watch, two swarmers mauling the crap out of each other down in the trenches.
Sammy Angott and Sugar Ray Robinson went to war three times in the 1940s, Robinson winning all three fights, it looks like they really put eachother through the meat grinder. This was Sugar Ray Robinson in his absolute prime, there is film of one of his fights with Angott, one of the rare films of Robinson in his absolute prime, although I haven't gotten around to watching it yet. They say styles make fights and I imagine Angott found Ray Robinson's style to be a nightmare, it was probably very difficult to get anything going against Ray, to get inside on Ray due to Ray's movement, speed, and phenomenal boxing ability, although judging by the photo on the very bottom it looks like Angott did catch Ray with a good shot at one point in their series.
This is from one of the fights between Sammy Angott vs Ike Williams, they fought eachother three times, Williams won two of the fights by decision and Angott actually knocked Williams out in their third and final fight. Ike Williams was one of the most murderous and vicious punchers in boxing history.
Sammy Angott getting his eyes checked during a pre-fight examination before his bout with Bob Montgomery. Doctors check boxers' eyes during pre-fight exams to ensure optimal vision, detect hidden injuries like retinal tears or detachments (which can cause blindness), and assess neurological function, safeguarding the fighter from severe, permanent damage and ensuring fair competition by identifying conditions like cataracts or glaucoma that impair sight. This comprehensive check, including acuity tests and a slit-lamp exam, is crucial because eyes are highly vulnerable targets in boxing, and asymptomatic issues are common.
Sammy Angott smilingly takes a peep for the photographer into the dressing room of his opponent Dave Castilloux before their bout in 1941 to see what the alleged "secret punch" of Castilloux is all about.
The great Sammy Angott on film vs Slugger White in 1941. Right off the bat you can see Angott living up to his nickname by utilizing his famous clinching method, he'll attack White and then grab him and force him into a clinch to smother White's ability to attack with any significant type of offense, mauling at White in the process, it's really a fascinating and brilliant style of combat, Angott was a rough, rugged, phenomenal infighter.
The great Barney Ross on the punching power of Ceferino Garcia:
''I had re-won the welterweight championship from [Jimmy] McLarnin when a friend of mine and Sam [Pian's] called and asked if I would fight for him in San Francisco. He said it would be against [Ceferino] Garcia, a guy who could hit but didn't know much. The promoter didn't say how much I wouId be paid but Sam said that didn't matter, that it was for a friend and we would box for him.
The fight wasn't 15 seconds oId until I heard the referee counting six, seven - I never heard one, two, three, four or five. I got up at nine and managed to stagger through the round and managed to win the bout.
Later at the end of a round Art [Winch] jumped into the ring and threw a sponge full of water in my face. He sat down and asked me if I knew his name. I laughed and told him, 'Sure, Art, what's the matter with you?'
Winch replied that he was all right but he had been asking me the same thing for five rounds. Here I thought it was the end of the first round and instead it was the finish of the fifth. I had been out on my feet for five rounds and didn't know it.''
Man, that photo in above post of Ceferino Garcia knocking Barney Ross down is something else, Ross had one of the best chins in boxing history, he was never knocked out in 81 fights, and he fought some bangers. The fact that he was able to pick himself up off the canvas and win that fight after being hit by a Garcia shotgun blast is a testament to what Barney Ross was made of, tougher than a Woodpeckers beak. This is one of my favorite photos of Barney Ross.
''One day where I was in Korea was worse than all the ring fighting I ever did. There ain't nothing Iike it, never. There ain't nothing like the front-line troopers. You just can't tell people about it. The rain and the slime and the bombs. It was horrible. You wished you had a thousand years to serve in a penitentiary. It wouId have been easy just to sit down and die. Sure, I bugged off, or ran, when they laid down that artillery. If you're under water you've got sense enough to come up, ain't you? You have to run sometimes to win wars.''
"Two Ton" Tony Galento cared little for the niceties or the rules. “Who is this guy, Queensbury?” he once asked a member of the New Jersey Boxing Commission. “I don't see anything wrong in sticking your thumb into any guy's eye. Just a little.”
His personal physician, Dr. Joseph E. Higi of Orange, was quoted as having once said at the time: “Tony is a throwback. He is the thick‐boned, hyposensitive type which does not readily register pain. I doubt if any of the thousands of blows he has stopped really has ever hurt him. He has no nerve or brain injury because he never has been stunned.”
Man, that quote from Tony Galento is insane, he was one rough customer, treated the rules like they were a mild suggestion. That reminds me, I meant to post these photos earlier in the thread but forgot, this is Tony Galento and Joe Louis after their fight in 1939.
Albert Griffiths, better known as Young Griffo, one of the greatest defensive fighters in the history of the sport of boxing.
Credit: IBHOF
One of the greatest defensive fighters of all time, Young Griffo compiled an outstanding record while eschewing traditional training methods. Born in Australia, the illiterate Griffo got his first experience fighting while selling newspapers on the docks of Sydney. When noted Australian boxer Larry Foley saw him in a street fight, Foley added Griffo to his stable of fighters. Griffo first started boxing under the old London Prize Ring Rules in 1886.
In 1889, Griffo won an eight-round decision over Nipper Peakes to take the Australian featherweight title. The next year, he scored a fifteenth-round knockout of Torpedo Billy Murphy in Sydney to win a version of the world featherweight title. Though Griffo successfully defended this title once, he did not gain widespread acclaim as the title holder.
In 1893, Griffo journeyed to the United States and dazzled fans with his incredible ability to avoid getting hit. He used to boast that he could stand on a handkerchief and dodge punches without taking a step in any direction. Griffo fought a host of notables, usually competing as a lightweight, although he did not earn a title shot. He fought three draws with George Dixon, which could have gone Griffo's way had the rules allowed the rendering of a decision. He also lost a controversial decision to Hall of Famer Jack McAuliffe, who barely touched Griffo in ten rounds.
Griffo did not treat his boxing career seriously. Usually, he did not train at all for his fights. If legend is to believed, he often arrived in the ring drunk or hung over. Even so, he was able to win more than his share of fights while absorbing only a minimal amount of punishment. By 1900, the years of hard living had slowed Griffo, and he suffered a knockout by Joe Gans. Griffo continued to fight until 1904 and made an abortive comeback in 1911. In retirement, the hard-drinking, wise-cracking Griffo used up his fame and money until he was reduced to panhandling in Times Square. He became a familiar figure, spending his days perched on the steps of the Rialto Theater. When Griffo died in 1927, promoter Tex Rickard reportedly paid for the funeral.
I'm just going to throw a bunch of stuff out here about Young Griffo, he's such a fascinating fighter and a legend, he was a defensive phenom, and then I'll get to the handful of photos that exist of him.
Credit: The Boxing Glove on Facebook
Young Griffo is one of the most curious and tragic figures in boxing history. He was a ring genius and when on form, practically impossible to hit cleanly, and yet he was also a hopeless alcoholic, whose addiction eventually destroyed his career. Griffo was born Albert Griffiths, on April 15, 1869, in Sydney, Australia. After beginning his career in 1886, Griffo fought for 7 years in his native Australia, before traveling to America in 1893. Griffo became an instant sensation with the American fight fans; his boxing abilities often leaving people stunned. Griffo had a uncanny defence, which relied upon extraordinary reflexes. He would often stand in front of his opponents, just a few inches away, but they found themselves still unable to land a serious punch upon him. Griffo would feint and block and move his head with amazing reflexive defensive abilities. Although he wasn’t a big puncher, Griffo was a sharp and precise puncher, who threw his punches in quick combinations. Griffo fought all the greats whom boxed at his weight, including Joe Gans, Solly Smith, George Dixon, Ike Weir, and George “Kid” Lavigne, amongst others. At his best, Griffo seemed to be untouchable, but soon his thirst for alcohol was interfering with his career.
Griffo’s handlers tried everything to stop him from drinking, including having him committed to an asylum, but each time after vowing not to drink again, Griffo returned to his late night carousing, even turning up for some fights worse for wear.
For a while, Griffo continued to win his fights seemingly unaffected by his lifestyle and lack of conditioning. By 1900, Griffo’s lifestyle was affecting his performances in the ring and he suffered a serious of defeats that brought about the end of his careeer as a top liner,even though he continued to box intermittently into his forties.
In his later years, Griffo became a familiar figure on the streets of New York. Destitute, save for a small room that an old friend let him live in free of charge, Griffo ended his days living on the good will of old fans and fellow retired fighters, who never forgot what a superb boxer he had been, before alcohol had ruined him. Griffo’s final record was 69-11-43 (21 KO).
THE GREATEST DEFENSIVE FIGHTERS EVER - YOUNG GRIFFO
He was probably the fastest boxer and the cleverest who ever performed under Queensberry rules.”
- Nat Fleischer
There are those who have walked among us endowed with ability so innate, so deeply embedded and interwoven into the very fabric of their being, that a divine hand seems to have crafted them from scratch. Or maybe it appears Mother Nature’s long, arduous genetic-tweaking journey has finally reached a physical spectacle unbefitting of us lower lifeforms. When it came to Albert Griffiths, divine or blind, the watchmaker coursed him as a boxing miracle and a booze-swilling extraordinaire. The two worked hand-in-hand at times. When Griffo was parched and needing a nice ale to wet his palate, he challenged bar patrons to hit his face for wagered money as his feet stood still on a laid handkerchief. The Australian never needed to back his end of the deal because he never lost.
And of course with regular barroom attendance came the occasional belligerent. Griffo therefore inevitably dealt with these, too, in his idiosyncratic way. One story tells of an unnamed man bearing a grudge towards the Millers Point-native, fist-clenched and ready to do what most pros couldn’t— strike Griffo on his skull. As this heated assailant waltzed through Young Mitchell’s saloon in San Francisco and made a bee line for Griffo, the owner warned the cockney-accented Australian of the impending danger:
“Here he is now, Griff—that fellow who is looking for you.”
Griffo couldn’t be bothered to turn around, instead peering into the bar’s large mirror in front of him. When the attacker drew near and unloaded with his best stuff, Griffo’s eyes never left the mirror, yet he swayed his head out of continual danger with inching head bobs until the aggressor had enough. Exhausted and blushed, the man grasped “Griff’s” shoulders and turned him, conceding defeat:
“You win, Griffo. I was going to knock your block off, but you haven’t got one. I’m licked without being hit.” Famous ring announcer Joe Humphreys remembered a similar story between Mysterious Billy Smith and Young Griffo:
“Griffo and Smith were on the outs for a time. Smith ankled into a saloon one night and, seeing Griffo at the bar, hurled a spittoon at the Australian. Griffo saw it coming in the looking glass and moved his large head just enough to let it tick his ear. The man was a marvel. He could even slip cuspidors with his back turned.”
Humphreys, who saw many of his great contemporaries compete, had no qualm in naming the Millers Point master of “Hit and Get Away” the cleverest pugilist to strap on a pair. But it wasn’t simply saloon tales that convinced the likes of Humphreys, Nat Fleischer, James J. Corbett, and many others of Griffo’s glove-swatting, head-dancing genius. The 10-round bout with Jack McAuliffe, undefeated lightweight champion of the world, at the Seaside A.C. in Brooklyn, New York, was one that helped leave an indelible impression. The legendary Irishman was favored against the relative newcomer to American shores, but once the bout had ended, he looked nothing like the betting favorite they made him. The contest saw McAuliffe cut loose with hundreds of shots, only to find that he was outwitted and countered at virtually every turn. So much so that Griffo seemed impervious to anything Jack could produce offensively. This prompted some in the crowd to snidely remark, “Is this the Champion McAuliffe who is fighting? He acts more like an amateur.” Griffo himself was having a good time of it all as he “peppered McAuliffe with jabs, hooks, uppercuts and every scientific punch known to the Queensberry code,” continually inquiring of the champion while sporting a smile, “Where will I hit you next, Jack?”
“The Napoleon of the Prize Ring” was out-generaled by this fistic equivalent of the Duke of Wellington. Only McAuliffe’s good friend and referee Maxie Moore prevented the sole blemish on Jack’s loss column when he awarded the champion the bout in spite of the cries of “Griffo, Griffo.” The Zephyr of All-Time, as Fleischer put it, was robbed. George Dixon, another master of the gloved game who laid claim to being the first black man to ever wear a championship belt and did so at both the bantamweight and featherweight limits, encountered similar difficulties in each of his contests with this “Wizard of the Antipodes”, especially the rubber match held at the Manhattan Athletic Club. Dixon, like McAuliffe, rushed Griffo throughout the set-to, working like a horse to get in a wallop that would do damage and sway the fight in his favor. This strategy only played to Griffo’s illimitable gifts as a defensive craftsman, as the original “Will o’ the Wisp” evaded virtually everything that came his way. For a period of four rounds it was said that the dusky titleholder missed every strike he mustered.
The Brooklyn Eagle confirmed Griffo’s remarkable showing in the art of self-defense, remarking that “no trick that he could try could penetrate the magnificent defense of the phenomenal Australian…. Griffo’s defense was impenetrable.” The Washington Post, no less glowing in their coverage, stated Griffo “gave a masterly exhibition of defensive fighting…from a scientific point of view Griffo is the better man. He familiarized himself with Dixon’s methods, and measured his man’s science to perfection. Griffo’s success with Dixon proves that the negro is at his worst when fighting an active man at short range.” Griffo’s boundless cleverness made a lasting imprint on Barbados Joe Walcott conqueror, Kid Lavigne, as well. In the two fights they had, both draws, Lavigne claimed to have never seen hands so fast and head movement so slick. The worst part of it all, “The Saginaw Kid” recalled, was that Griffo didn’t seem to move anywhere when he was boring in, haymakers in tow. The Australian wonder just stood his ground like a rock and reached into his depthless bag of tricks to confuse the trajectory of Lavigne’s forthcoming blows. Part of the Police Gazette writer Sam Austin’s account of the rematch adds weight to Lavigne’s grumblings: “Griffo would stand in one spot on the space one could cover with a handkerchief and by moving his head the fraction of an inch made Lavigne look foolish.” Descriptions like this bring to the mind images of the late, great Nicolino Locche. The list of frustrated contemporary legends extends further still, to one of the most well-rounded prizefighters in ring history: “The Old Master”, Joe Gans. The Baltimorean had it all— fast hands, a mighty wallop, sharp technique, good footwork, toughness, fantastic blocking ability, you name it. When it came to ring I.Q., few possessed higher. But even he lacked the cunning to solve the Rubik’s Cube that was Griffo’s fist-buffer until he was well past his best. Griffo and Gans met three times, with the second being the only full-on set-to they had near Griffo’s prime—though even by that time the Australian was considered over-the-hill. Gans wasn’t quite “The Old Master” that day, recounting the tale of the bout a few years after it had happened: “I’ll never forget my experience in the ring with that Kid Griffo. We met in the ring at the Olympic Club at Athens, Pa., and it was agreed that we were to divide the purse, win or lose. I trained for three weeks for the bout, and when I got a flash at Griffo in his corner I noticed that a fold of fat wobbled over his belt. He was in fit condition for a sanitarium instead of a prize ring, and I told Herford [Al Herford, Joe Gans’ manager] that I would make short work of the Australian phenom, as they called him. We were to go fifteen rounds, and I thought I could do Griff in about three punches at the wind. I had an idea that he would keep away from me, but that’s where he fooled me. You would naturally think that a man in his condition would steer away from a punch, but he crowded me from the first tap of the gong. “He clearly outboxed me, but every time he tapped me I smiled at him. ‘See here, old chap,’ he said, ‘I’m out for a draw, and don’t get awfully rude with me because I ‘av a bloomink pain in me stomach and if you slam me once in the body it will be all off. So don’t get rude, and be a gentleman.’ I tried my prettiest to bore a stomach punch into him, but I only caught him on the glove at every trial, and then I switched my tactics and tried for his jaw, but he was inside of me at every punch, and when I led he stepped inside and showered a rain of taps with both hands. He had me tired once, I will admit, and it looked to me as if every one in the crowd was throwing boxing gloves at me. It’s a pity that a boxer of his talent never took care of himself, as he was the greatest defensive boxer that ever lived, and the most peculiar feature of his defense was that he was up and at the opponent all the time, fighting close on the inside of the guard. They talk about Fitzsimmons as a fighting machine, but as a mechanical boxer Fitz never classed with Griffo.” This is praise of the highest kind, considering “Fitz” was Gan’s mentor and idol. But it’s not enough to say Griffo matched wits with multiple prizefighting giants of his day. There is more to the story, as a close reading of Gans’ recollection shows. The ‘paunch’ Gans alluded to was no doubt a product of Griffo’s lack of training, which consisted far more of his previously mentioned drinking than running, bag-hitting, or anything else that looked like traditional exercise. So heavy was he on the alcohol that many times he was stone cold drunk on fight night and had to be pulled from his stool at whatever local bar he happened to attending. Oftentimes he was thrown into a Turkish Bath to sweat it out and sober up before they slapped a pair of gloves on him and tapped the gong. Such was the case for his scheduled contests with Ike Weir and Young Scotty. Against Jimmy Dime, a quality up-and-coming lightweight, Griffo was seized from John L. Sullivan’s hotel room, which allegedly looked like a bowling alley, only it wasn’t pins laying around but champagne bottles. Griffo, in all three cases, still went on to terrorize his foes with remarkable skill. The truth of the matter about the Australian Zephyr’s character was put into words by former trainer, Tim McGrath:
“The fact that he never became a champion was due partly to his lack of ambition. Glory and money meant little to him. He loved his good times, and it was impossible to get him into condition. No manager ever did. He never took a fight seriously and was never in condition for one that I know of.”
We can only surmise what he could have accomplished with a more driven spirit, but given what we do have, it’s more than enough for him to be proclaimed the supreme defensive artisan of his day, and one for all-time.
''You'll have to hand it to Young Griffo, the wonderful Australian boxer, for originaility. Griffo, in his prime, was in the habit of going on terrible sprees at intervals and drove his trainers nearly insane by his wild ways. He usually managed to straighten out in time to go into the ring fit, however, and was so wonderfully clever that he never had to stand any punishment.
He had a friend who was warden at one of the jails in Brooklyn and whenever he wanted to recover trom a spree, used to go over there and give himself up. The jail authorities couldn't take him in without commitment papers, but he had that all fixed up so one of the judges would make out the papers for as long a time as was desired on very short notice.
Once in jail, Griffo wouldn't be able to get any more whisky and he soon would straighten up. But in order to guard against a possible relapse, he was kept in for several days and if he happened to be near one of his fights, we would arrange for some good strong boy to go to the bastile and box with him in the afternoons.
Just before he fought George Dixon before the Manhattan Club in New York, he went on a big drunk and the commitment papers were so worded that he was to emerge on the afternoon of the battle. He carried out his usual program of boxing and training while in confinement and was able to give Dixon a good battle, the result of the encounter being a 10-round draw. That night before the battle, some drunk who was put into the jail got noisy. This made Griffo furious and he proceeded to knock the vociferous gentleman down, exclaiming indignantly: 'There, blime yer, keep quiet; I am a-training and I can't 'ave all this 'ere bally row.''
This is the photo that was used for the production of the Young Griffo rookie card, one of my favorite boxing card sets, 1890 Mayo's Cut Plug Prizefighters series (N310), it's one of the earliest boxing card sets in history. They were released in the year 1890 by P.H. Mayo & Brother to promote Mayo's Cut Plug tobacco products. Each card has the Mayo's Cut Plug logo on the front of the card. The backs are blank on these cards and each card has two different variations where the name of the fighter can be found over the top of the fighter or underneath the fighter. Highly sought-after set. I've posted photos of both variations of the card, name on top and bottom. The image was also used for the production of his T220 Mecca Cigarettes card.
A cartoon depiction of Young Griffo and George Dixon that appeared in a publication after they fought in 1895, I'll profile George Dixon later in the thread, Dixon is one of the greatest to ever do it. George Dixon's primary boxing nickname was "Little Chocolate," but he was also known as "The Chocolate Drop," recognizing his status as the first Black world boxing champion. He was a pioneer of scientific boxing, renowned for his speed and skill in the bantamweight and featherweight divisions. George Dixon was a long-reigning world champion, holding the Bantamweight title in 1890 and then the Featherweight title for significant periods, notably from 1891-1897 and again from 1898-1900, becoming the first fighter to win titles in multiple weight classes, ruling the lighter divisions for nearly a decade, a true all-time great.
Featherweight champion George Dixon and former champion Young Griffo fought to a 25 round draw in a non-title bout at the Seaside Athletic Club on Coney Island in New York on April 19th in 1895.
In a battle of two supremely talented and skilled technicians, Dixon and Griffo boxed 25 busy rounds where neither fighter was remotely hurt. Reports on the attendance range from 4,500 to 6,000, but it was enough of an attraction to draw several thousand for a non-title bout in a state where prizefighting had been outlawed.
One report said, "There was nothing brutal about the bout, and everyone agreed it was a superb exhibition of scientific boxing. Dixon was, perhaps, the stronger of the two, but was at a slight disadvantage in the matter of weight. Griffo showed himself to be a splendid judge of distance, a good general, though not a particularly hard hitter."
The decision was well-received, though Griffo's supporters were enthusiastic and loud about their belief that Griffo should have been declared a winner.
The White Horse Hotel in George Street Sydney Australia, owned by boxing legend Larry Foley, at the back of the hotel was Larry's gym , The Iron Pot, where he trained greats such as Bob Fitzsimmons , Young Griffo, Peter Jackson and Frank “ Paddy “ Slavin. Larry had a pretty good assistant trainer, a certain Jem Mace, the legendary bare knuckle fighter.
Indeed, Young Griffo was the Nicolino Locche of his era.
Young Griffo (shorter man in the demonstrations) is one of the most impressive boxers you'll ever read about. He was a serious alcoholic that never showed up to his fights in shape, but was able to get the better of all-time greats, the best of the era like Joe Gans, Jack McAuliffe, Kid Lavigne and George Dixon.
Griffo was a freak talent, the most lauded boxing technician and trainer of the time in Larry Foley said that he barely had to train Griffo and that he just understood boxing as if it were second nature. He was near impossible to hit, having a unique defensive style that saved him when his physical fitness wouldn’t.
Sadly, like a lot of legendary fighters, Young Griffo died broke, down and out. This is an article written by the New York Times after he died.
YOUNG GRIFFO DIES PENNILESS, OBSCURE; Once Marvel of Boxing Ring, He Succumbs at 55 in Room He Got Rent Free. LONG A TIMES SQ. FIGURE Sportsmen of Bygone Days and Theatre Crowds Helped Him Get Precarious Living.
Credit...The New York Times Archives
December 8, 1927
Young Griffo, who thirty years ago fought and drank with the best of them, died yesterday morning in his little basement room at 466 West Forty-third Street. With the passing of time he had lost everything but that room, a suit of clothes, his friends and one famous old trick—he could still catch a fly in flight between his thumb and finger. It was thirty-four years ago that Albert Griffith came out of Australia, a young, hard-fighting man destined under the name of Young Griffo to be called one of the cleverest boxers who ever entered the ring. He fought George Dixon, “Kid” Lavigne, Jack McAuliffe and Joe Gans, but never much of a trainer and always a believer in spending money when he had it regardless of the consequences to his health, he left the ring twenty years ago without having won a title and battered and flabby. Since then he had earned a precarious living doing odd jobs for his friends, acting as referee or umpire at small games and bouts and existing on the help of his acquaintances. Every one liked him; and as old-time ring enthusiasts, actors, gamblers and those who wished to help him passed his nightly station at the rear of the Rialto Theatre, they would stop for a brief chat and give him money. On rainy nights he was allowed to sit inside the stage door, but his friends could not see him as easily, and sometimes on rainy nights he went hungry.
Occupied His Usual Haunts.
Tuesday evening, following the schedule of years, Young Griffo left his home, shortly after 7 o'clock, walked along Forty-third Street to Broadway and then down through the theatre crowds for a block to his usual stand. He sat in the same place, and as always, held before him an afternoon paper he had picked from the street. Young Griffo couldn't read, but he insisted on the paper perhaps he liked the pictures, perhaps he thought it gave him an air of dignity. As he sat on his step of an evening, it was hard to figure the white-haired heavy man of fifty-five as the once dashing fighter who weighed 120 pounds.
After the theatre crowd had passed him on its way home he started for his customary walk up Broadway to Forty-eighth Street. All the newsboys along the route knew him and several gave him early editions of the papers. When he reached the end of his promenade he turned, retraced his steps as far as Forty-third Street, and then went again to his home. He reached his little room shortly before midnight, for Mrs. Rose Collins, the woman who had given it to him rent free, for half a dozen years, heard him come in. She felt somewhat responsible for him, as a matter of fact, for in the days of his good fortune Young Griffo had done something for her—that something being the performance of his tricks in the saloon her husband owned. The fighter brought trade to the door when the Collinses needed it; it was only just that she help him when he in turn was down. About 2:30 in the morning she was awakened by a knock on the door of her room on the first floor. She opened it: there was Young Griffo holding one hand to his throat, supporting himself by the door handle with the other. "I'm sick; I'm choking," he said, then fell to the floor. His benefactress made haste to prepare something hot for him, as Prospero Panza, who occupies a room in the house, came in to lend his assistance. It was no use, however, for by the time Dr. Janway of Bellevue Hospital arrived Young Griffo was dead, the victim, apparently, of apoplexy.
Stories in Wake of Vivid Career.
In the course of his hectic career the fighter had been responsible for many stories which, told over and over, have attained the dignity almost of legends. He is seen, in the light of thirty years after, as a swashbuckling figure who never trained, yet was the cleverest boxer of them all; one whose custom it was to remain in saloons until literally the last hour before a scheduled bout. Among his tricks, the delight of sportsmen of bygone days, was that in which he placed a handkerchief on the floor, stood on it, and then bet any one who cared to try that his head could not be bit. He was so quick at moving his body and dodging that few of them ever won, despite the fact that his feet never left the small space on which he stood. Another, and one which remained with him until the end, was an ability to catch a fly in motion, between his thumb and his index finger. Sometimes he would vary the proceeding of the handkerchief trick by standing facing a mirror and then betting all comers that they could not strike the back of his head. He watched the reflection, always dodging in the nick of time, and always winning the drinks. When he was trying his hardest in his profession he would get a friendly Judge to lock him up for the thirty days or so preceding a fight, thus making sure that he would do at least a certain amount of training for it.
His body was taken to the Morgue yesterday afternoon, where an autopsy will be made this morning; then it will likely be returned to the undertaking parlors of George P. Madine on Tenth Avenue for burial. It was thought for a time yesterday that it might be necessary to bury Young Griffo in Potters' Field, but friends came forward, including the Rev. Father Francis P. Duffy, whose Holy Cross Church is not far away from where the old fighter watched the crowds pass his Rialto steps, who have made that unnecessary. "He certainly will not go to Potters' Field," Father Duffy said. "I will see that he is given a decent burial. I met Al several years after I became pastor of the church," he continued. "I used to put little jobs in his way, such as acting as umpire or referee in games and bouts in the parish. He was not a Catholic, but we liked each other and I often stopped as I passed the Rialto steps to talk to him. It was only a few days ago I noticed that his collar was open and warned him to close it as a protection against the cold weather. I feel sure now that he must have been sick at the time."
I wish there was film of Young Griffo, I'd give my left pinky finger to see him do his handkerchief trick, or to watch him slipping punches. If you want to know more about the legendary Young Griffo, I would recommend this book written about him.
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Music break.
Sammy Angott, known as "The Clutch," was a lightweight world champion in the 1940s, known for his awkward style and exceptional defensive skills. He earned the nickname "The Clutch" for grabbing his opponent and clinching them following clean punches he landed on them, he did this to spoil their attacks, making it difficult for his opponents to get any type of offense going against him, a very clever if unpopular technique. He also used a stinging jab and fast, hard hooks to wear down his opponents. Sammy Angott was not considered a fan favorite but he was a tough, scrappy infighter with a granite chin, he was never knocked out in over 130 fights. Angott often fought in the Lightweight Division and sometimes Welterweight Division but early in his career he had bouts in the Featherweight Division. He has wins over Wesley Ramey, Petey Sarron, Freddie Miller, Willie Pep, Baby Arizmendi, Johnny Bratton, Lew Jenkins, Bob Montgomery, Ike Williams, and Kid Azteca, that's one f@#$ of a resume, a true all-time great. Angott was inducted into the Ring Boxing Hall of Fame in 1973 and the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1998.
I recently ran into these stats on Sammy Angott, insane, consistently great.
Sammy Angott career stats, again, insane.
10 Champions Beat
8 Hall of Famers Beat
5 World Title Fights
63 Fights Against Top 10 Fighters
41 Fights Against Top 3 Fighters
22 KO's
P4P Rated for 4 Years
Beat 12 P4P Rated Fighters
Fought 248 Rounds Against Champions
Top 10 Rated for 7 Years
Sammy Angott was the first and only man to defeat a prime Willie Pep, breaking up one of the greatest unbeaten streaks in boxing history. On March 19th, 1943, Willie Pep was 62-0 going into his fight against Sammy Angott. Astonishingly, after his loss to Angott, Pep would put together another ridiculous unbeaten streak, going 72-0-1 before losing his featherweight title to Sandy Saddler.
The United Press reported:
"Angott, who retired as 135-pound ruler in November because of bad hands, was equipped with two good fists last night, and he kept them so busy that he won six rounds on the United Press score sheet, while Pep won three and one was even.
It was a rough, entertaining brawl in which there were no outright knockdowns, although both slipped to the canvas in the seventh session after missing blows, and Angott was on the deck twice in the eighth because of a slip and a defensive spin that followed a punch. Angott suffered a gashed upper left eyelid in the fifth round when their heads came together, and Pep's right cheek was puffed up like a balloon from innumerable left hooks. Angott took command of the bout at the first bell and won four of the first five rounds, the fourth going to Willie.
They fought on even terms in the sixth. Then Pep lifted the pace and won the seventh and eighth. Entering the ninth, it appeared that 20-year-old Pep's youth, speed and stamina would pull victory out of the fire. But in that ninth session Angott wrapped up victory by jack-knifing his lighter opponent with a left hook to the body and following with a barrage of hooks to the head. Pep fought desperately in the tenth, but blows to the midriff in the ninth left him so weakened that Angott won that session and the fight."
Here's a good article about Sammy Angott.
THE 100 GREATEST BOXERS OF ALL-TIME #82: SAMMY ANGOTT
By: Kenneth Bridgham
“THE CLUTCH”
94 WINS (22 BY KO), 29 LOSSES, 8 DRAWS
NBA Lightweight Titleholder 1940–1942, 1943–1944
World Lightweight Champion 1941–1942
International Boxing Hall of Fame Inductee 1992
Nat Fleischer, the founder of The Ring magazine, once called Sammy Angott the least popular champion in the history of the lightweight division. But popularity does not win fights, skills and talent do. Angott was a terrific ring battler who faced the best featherweights, lightweights, and welterweights of the 1930s and 1940s. You can’t beat Willie Pep in his prime and not be a great fighter. Despite this, fans and sportswriters considered his frequent use of clinching a bore. Hence his nickname among those in the fight game, “The Clutch.”
Still, he was at least popular enough to be in the same room with film star Rita Hayworth, as seen above. Popular or not, Angott won often, and he held some version of the lightweight (135 pounds) championship on and off again for a period that spanned four years.
Savvy and scrappy, Angott came from Washington, Pennsylvania, not far south of Pittsburgh, but he fought all over the eastern and midwestern states early in his career, with Louisville, Kentucky as his base of operations for years. He was a hard-traveling fighter who often fought opponents in their hometowns. After turning pro at age 20 in 1935, he fought his early bouts in DC, New York City, Pittsburgh, Louisville, Chicago, Milwaukee, Dallas, and New Orleans before getting his first shot at a major belt in 1940. His record was spotted with losses in those early years, but between 1938 and 1939, he went 22–2 to earn recognition as one of the division’s leading contenders.
On May 3, 1940, Sammy won the National Boxing Association’s recognition as lightweight champion with a 15-round decision over Davey Day at the Jefferson County Armory in Louisville. The true, lineal champion at this time was Lou Ambers. Ambers eventually lost the championship to Texas puncher Lew Jenkins. On December 19, 1941, eleven days after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, Angott and Jenkins did battle for the undisputed title before 11,346 fans at Madison Square Garden in New York. Though fans booed Angott’s punch-and-hold style, he won a unanimous decision to secure the lightweight crown. All three judges gave 13 rounds to Angott and only two rounds to Jenkins.
Angott may have only defended the championship successfully once (a decision over Allie Stolz), but his most impressive wins in this period were two terrific performances against future champion and Hall of Famer Bob Montgomery in non-title fights. In the first match, on March 6, 1942, in the Garden, he put Montgomery on the floor twice. In the second, in front of 16,000 fans at Shibe Park in Philadelphia, he built up a strong lead to overcome a late Montgomery comeback and secure the decision win.
At the close of 1942, Sammy stunned the boxing world by announcing his retirement at just 27 years of age, citing an injured hand. He briefly went to work in a factory to help with the war effort.
Changing his mind about retirement by March of the next year, Angott returned to the ring without his championship, but he showed no ring rust in picking up the most important win of his career: a thorough domination of the marvelously talented featherweight champion Pep through a 10-round non-title match at the Garden. Before that, future Hall of Famer Pep had been undefeated in 62 pro outings; many consider him the greatest featherweight in the sport’s history.
Seven months later, Angott resecured the NBA’s lightweight belt (again, not lineal) with a decision over Luther “Slugger” White in Los Angeles’s Gilmore Stadium. He lost that belt to the tough Juan Zurita in 1944 and retired in 1950 at the age of 35, having only been stopped once (by future Hall of Famer Beau Jack) in 131 prize fights.
Angott’s lack of popularity and lack of hitting power (Only 23% of his wins came by knockout) frequently keep him out of other lists of all-time greats, but his resumé speaks for itself. He may have only won half of his 18 bouts against world champions or Hall of Famers, but when you consider that Sugar Ray Robinson, Henry Armstrong, and Willie Pep (arguably the three best non-heavyweight boxers ever) were among those 18, that is more than an impressive legacy. It is an all-time great one.
Sammy Angott is honestly one of my favorite fighters, I love his style, down in the trenches, clinching and mauling the hell out of you. Nothing fancy about it, just effective brutality.
Credit: boxing forum 24
"He was the first to beat Willie Pep...He went the distance with the prime, vicious welterweight Robinson 3 times...He fought one of the hardest hitting lightweights in Ike Williams, 3 times, getting decisioned twice, but winning the last fight against Williams by 6th round stoppage...He fought just about every top name from his era...Who would you take to equal the feats of Sammy Angott? I've only seen Angott highlights twice on film...His third fight with Robinson, and the first Zivic fight...Angott fights very aggressively, with a mauling attack...'The Clutch' is aptly named."
"Angott is a very underrated fighter who would pose stylistic nightmares for anyone not extremely powerful or as adept as he was at fighting in a clinch.
He was a kind of defensively better Ricky Hatton. Very hard to keep off with movement alone. You needed to be able to hold your own in the trenches or hit like a mule if you wanted to have a chance of getting the better of him.
Infighting and power weren't Willie's forte, and with Pep fighting against a naturally stronger Angott, it was always going to be trouble for him.
I think Angott, with a fairly lenient ref is a good bet to beat someone like Floyd Mayweather at lightweight. He won't take the shots Hatton did, but he will be on Floyd and forcing him to fight in clinches. He could scrap away a win there.
Angott's record against slick boxer types is outstanding, beating Pep, Montgomery (x 3), Miller, Sarron and quite a few others as well."
On May 3, 1940 at the Armory in Louisville Sammy Angott and Davey Day battled for vacant NBA world lightweight title. Angott prevailed winning a 15 round decision and the title. The NBA title had been stripped from Lou Ambers for his failure to meet Davey Day in a title fight. Davey Day, a top contender in the 1930s and 40s, was known by several nicknames due to his lean build and defensive skills, most notably "The Human String Bean" and sometimes "The Dean of Defense," and even "The Human Skeleton". He was famous for being incredibly difficult to cut, going his entire career without suffering a single eye cut. Day was tough as nails, full of heart, and he could lay a beating on you. He and Angott fought three times, Angott won the series 2-1. This is the only photo I can find of Day and Angott, I believe this is from the fight in which Angott won the NBA lightweight title, Day is on the left and Angott on the right.
On December 19th, 1941, Sammy Angott won recognition as the undisputed world lightweight champion when he defeated Lew Jenkins, "The Sweetwater Swatter" by unanimous decision. This is a photo of Sammy Angott and Lew Jenkins at a weigh-in before there fight, I would love to own the type 1 original photo of this image, two beasts right here, both staring at each other with murder in their eye. Lew Jenkins was one of the hardest punching lightweights in history and Angott was a rugged infighting mauler and it's just a sick image of both of them and I would love to own it.
Sammy Angott on the cover of The Ring magazine in September 1941 and the photo they used for the cover.
Another fascinating write-up on Sammy Angott, God I swear this is so fascinating, "a marauding tangle weed", that is absolute gold. This is so fascinating, such a fascinating fighter with a fascinating style. I live for this stuff.
Samuel Engotti, the former lightweight king from Washington, Pennsylvania, was known as “The Clutch” based on his penchant for swaddling opponents after launching an attack. Stout, pugnacious and wild in the clinches, Angott made good men look plain.
A marauding tangle weed that burrowed in with his head, Angott grappled his way to the world title when he mugged Texan “Looney” Lew Jenkins in 1941. Hand problems clipped short his tenure, yet only 4 months after he had been forced to abdicate from an 11 month reign, Angott rebounded to blot the copybook of one Willie Pep, then 62-0. An expert at crowding and mauling, he harassed Pep like a street corner pitchman.
Sammy went down thrice to Sugar Ray Robinson, in scuffles that resembled a man attempting to flush a spider down a sink hole, but his approach fared him better in wins over Bob “Bobcat” Montgomery, Baby Arizmendi and Ike Willams. Angott retired to Masillion, Ohio, where he worked in the shipping department at the Yale, Towne and Eaton Manufacturing Co.
Sick autographed premium of Sammy Angott.
I actually own the type 1 original photo for the premium in the above post, right here it is.
Some more photos of Sammy Angott, this is from a fight against Bobby Ruffin in 1943.
Great shot of Angott tearing into the midsection of Bob "Bobcat" Montgomery.
Henry Armstrong grapples with "The Clutch" Sammy Angott in their 1943 fight at Madison Square Garden. Man, this would have been a fun fight to watch, two swarmers mauling the crap out of each other down in the trenches.
Sammy Angott and Sugar Ray Robinson went to war three times in the 1940s, Robinson winning all three fights, it looks like they really put eachother through the meat grinder. This was Sugar Ray Robinson in his absolute prime, there is film of one of his fights with Angott, one of the rare films of Robinson in his absolute prime, although I haven't gotten around to watching it yet. They say styles make fights and I imagine Angott found Ray Robinson's style to be a nightmare, it was probably very difficult to get anything going against Ray, to get inside on Ray due to Ray's movement, speed, and phenomenal boxing ability, although judging by the photo on the very bottom it looks like Angott did catch Ray with a good shot at one point in their series.
This is from Sammy Angott vs Beau Jack in 1944, this fight went the 10- round distance and was declared a draw. Two all-time greats.
This is from one of the fights between Sammy Angott vs Ike Williams, they fought eachother three times, Williams won two of the fights by decision and Angott actually knocked Williams out in their third and final fight. Ike Williams was one of the most murderous and vicious punchers in boxing history.
A 1948 Leaf Boxing Sammy Angott with a bit of a color shift printing error to it, cool card.
Newspaper headline about Sammy Angott's win over Johnny Bratton on May 16th, 1947.
A Sammy Angott cartoon drawn by the famous sports cartoonist Jack Sords.
Sammy Angott getting his eyes checked during a pre-fight examination before his bout with Bob Montgomery. Doctors check boxers' eyes during pre-fight exams to ensure optimal vision, detect hidden injuries like retinal tears or detachments (which can cause blindness), and assess neurological function, safeguarding the fighter from severe, permanent damage and ensuring fair competition by identifying conditions like cataracts or glaucoma that impair sight. This comprehensive check, including acuity tests and a slit-lamp exam, is crucial because eyes are highly vulnerable targets in boxing, and asymptomatic issues are common.
Sammy Angott smilingly takes a peep for the photographer into the dressing room of his opponent Dave Castilloux before their bout in 1941 to see what the alleged "secret punch" of Castilloux is all about.
Sammy Angott fight pose, love this image of Angott, he was one rugged, tough looking SOB.
The great Sammy Angott on film vs Slugger White in 1941. Right off the bat you can see Angott living up to his nickname by utilizing his famous clinching method, he'll attack White and then grab him and force him into a clinch to smother White's ability to attack with any significant type of offense, mauling at White in the process, it's really a fascinating and brilliant style of combat, Angott was a rough, rugged, phenomenal infighter.
The great Barney Ross on the punching power of Ceferino Garcia:
''I had re-won the welterweight championship from [Jimmy] McLarnin when a friend of mine and Sam [Pian's] called and asked if I would fight for him in San Francisco. He said it would be against [Ceferino] Garcia, a guy who could hit but didn't know much. The promoter didn't say how much I wouId be paid but Sam said that didn't matter, that it was for a friend and we would box for him.
The fight wasn't 15 seconds oId until I heard the referee counting six, seven - I never heard one, two, three, four or five. I got up at nine and managed to stagger through the round and managed to win the bout.
Later at the end of a round Art [Winch] jumped into the ring and threw a sponge full of water in my face. He sat down and asked me if I knew his name. I laughed and told him, 'Sure, Art, what's the matter with you?'
Winch replied that he was all right but he had been asking me the same thing for five rounds. Here I thought it was the end of the first round and instead it was the finish of the fifth. I had been out on my feet for five rounds and didn't know it.''
Man, that photo in above post of Ceferino Garcia knocking Barney Ross down is something else, Ross had one of the best chins in boxing history, he was never knocked out in 81 fights, and he fought some bangers. The fact that he was able to pick himself up off the canvas and win that fight after being hit by a Garcia shotgun blast is a testament to what Barney Ross was made of, tougher than a Woodpeckers beak. This is one of my favorite photos of Barney Ross.
Music break, one of the most beautiful songs ever made.
''One day where I was in Korea was worse than all the ring fighting I ever did. There ain't nothing Iike it, never. There ain't nothing like the front-line troopers. You just can't tell people about it. The rain and the slime and the bombs. It was horrible. You wished you had a thousand years to serve in a penitentiary. It wouId have been easy just to sit down and die. Sure, I bugged off, or ran, when they laid down that artillery. If you're under water you've got sense enough to come up, ain't you? You have to run sometimes to win wars.''
Sick photo of Lew Jenkins with the autograph on his arm.
"Two Ton" Tony Galento cared little for the niceties or the rules. “Who is this guy, Queensbury?” he once asked a member of the New Jersey Boxing Commission. “I don't see anything wrong in sticking your thumb into any guy's eye. Just a little.”
His personal physician, Dr. Joseph E. Higi of Orange, was quoted as having once said at the time: “Tony is a throwback. He is the thick‐boned, hyposensitive type which does not readily register pain. I doubt if any of the thousands of blows he has stopped really has ever hurt him. He has no nerve or brain injury because he never has been stunned.”
Man, that quote from Tony Galento is insane, he was one rough customer, treated the rules like they were a mild suggestion. That reminds me, I meant to post these photos earlier in the thread but forgot, this is Tony Galento and Joe Louis after their fight in 1939.
No Sleep Till Brooklyn - Undisputed heavyweight champion Mike Tyson with Beastie Boys members "Ad-Rock" and "Mike D." back in 1987.
Albert Griffiths, better known as Young Griffo, one of the greatest defensive fighters in the history of the sport of boxing.
Credit: IBHOF
One of the greatest defensive fighters of all time, Young Griffo compiled an outstanding record while eschewing traditional training methods. Born in Australia, the illiterate Griffo got his first experience fighting while selling newspapers on the docks of Sydney. When noted Australian boxer Larry Foley saw him in a street fight, Foley added Griffo to his stable of fighters. Griffo first started boxing under the old London Prize Ring Rules in 1886.
In 1889, Griffo won an eight-round decision over Nipper Peakes to take the Australian featherweight title. The next year, he scored a fifteenth-round knockout of Torpedo Billy Murphy in Sydney to win a version of the world featherweight title. Though Griffo successfully defended this title once, he did not gain widespread acclaim as the title holder.
In 1893, Griffo journeyed to the United States and dazzled fans with his incredible ability to avoid getting hit. He used to boast that he could stand on a handkerchief and dodge punches without taking a step in any direction. Griffo fought a host of notables, usually competing as a lightweight, although he did not earn a title shot. He fought three draws with George Dixon, which could have gone Griffo's way had the rules allowed the rendering of a decision. He also lost a controversial decision to Hall of Famer Jack McAuliffe, who barely touched Griffo in ten rounds.
Griffo did not treat his boxing career seriously. Usually, he did not train at all for his fights. If legend is to believed, he often arrived in the ring drunk or hung over. Even so, he was able to win more than his share of fights while absorbing only a minimal amount of punishment. By 1900, the years of hard living had slowed Griffo, and he suffered a knockout by Joe Gans. Griffo continued to fight until 1904 and made an abortive comeback in 1911. In retirement, the hard-drinking, wise-cracking Griffo used up his fame and money until he was reduced to panhandling in Times Square. He became a familiar figure, spending his days perched on the steps of the Rialto Theater. When Griffo died in 1927, promoter Tex Rickard reportedly paid for the funeral.
I'm just going to throw a bunch of stuff out here about Young Griffo, he's such a fascinating fighter and a legend, he was a defensive phenom, and then I'll get to the handful of photos that exist of him.
Credit: The Boxing Glove on Facebook
Young Griffo is one of the most curious and tragic figures in boxing history. He was a ring genius and when on form, practically impossible to hit cleanly, and yet he was also a hopeless alcoholic, whose addiction eventually destroyed his career. Griffo was born Albert Griffiths, on April 15, 1869, in Sydney, Australia. After beginning his career in 1886, Griffo fought for 7 years in his native Australia, before traveling to America in 1893. Griffo became an instant sensation with the American fight fans; his boxing abilities often leaving people stunned. Griffo had a uncanny defence, which relied upon extraordinary reflexes. He would often stand in front of his opponents, just a few inches away, but they found themselves still unable to land a serious punch upon him. Griffo would feint and block and move his head with amazing reflexive defensive abilities. Although he wasn’t a big puncher, Griffo was a sharp and precise puncher, who threw his punches in quick combinations. Griffo fought all the greats whom boxed at his weight, including Joe Gans, Solly Smith, George Dixon, Ike Weir, and George “Kid” Lavigne, amongst others. At his best, Griffo seemed to be untouchable, but soon his thirst for alcohol was interfering with his career.
Griffo’s handlers tried everything to stop him from drinking, including having him committed to an asylum, but each time after vowing not to drink again, Griffo returned to his late night carousing, even turning up for some fights worse for wear.
For a while, Griffo continued to win his fights seemingly unaffected by his lifestyle and lack of conditioning. By 1900, Griffo’s lifestyle was affecting his performances in the ring and he suffered a serious of defeats that brought about the end of his careeer as a top liner,even though he continued to box intermittently into his forties.
In his later years, Griffo became a familiar figure on the streets of New York. Destitute, save for a small room that an old friend let him live in free of charge, Griffo ended his days living on the good will of old fans and fellow retired fighters, who never forgot what a superb boxer he had been, before alcohol had ruined him. Griffo’s final record was 69-11-43 (21 KO).
THE GREATEST DEFENSIVE FIGHTERS EVER - YOUNG GRIFFO
He was probably the fastest boxer and the cleverest who ever performed under Queensberry rules.”
There are those who have walked among us endowed with ability so innate, so deeply embedded and interwoven into the very fabric of their being, that a divine hand seems to have crafted them from scratch. Or maybe it appears Mother Nature’s long, arduous genetic-tweaking journey has finally reached a physical spectacle unbefitting of us lower lifeforms. When it came to Albert Griffiths, divine or blind, the watchmaker coursed him as a boxing miracle and a booze-swilling extraordinaire. The two worked hand-in-hand at times. When Griffo was parched and needing a nice ale to wet his palate, he challenged bar patrons to hit his face for wagered money as his feet stood still on a laid handkerchief. The Australian never needed to back his end of the deal because he never lost.
And of course with regular barroom attendance came the occasional belligerent. Griffo therefore inevitably dealt with these, too, in his idiosyncratic way. One story tells of an unnamed man bearing a grudge towards the Millers Point-native, fist-clenched and ready to do what most pros couldn’t— strike Griffo on his skull. As this heated assailant waltzed through Young Mitchell’s saloon in San Francisco and made a bee line for Griffo, the owner warned the cockney-accented Australian of the impending danger:
“Here he is now, Griff—that fellow who is looking for you.”
Griffo couldn’t be bothered to turn around, instead peering into the bar’s large mirror in front of him. When the attacker drew near and unloaded with his best stuff, Griffo’s eyes never left the mirror, yet he swayed his head out of continual danger with inching head bobs until the aggressor had enough. Exhausted and blushed, the man grasped “Griff’s” shoulders and turned him, conceding defeat:
“You win, Griffo. I was going to knock your block off, but you haven’t got one. I’m licked without being hit.” Famous ring announcer Joe Humphreys remembered a similar story between Mysterious Billy Smith and Young Griffo:
“Griffo and Smith were on the outs for a time. Smith ankled into a saloon one night and, seeing Griffo at the bar, hurled a spittoon at the Australian. Griffo saw it coming in the looking glass and moved his large head just enough to let it tick his ear. The man was a marvel. He could even slip cuspidors with his back turned.”
Humphreys, who saw many of his great contemporaries compete, had no qualm in naming the Millers Point master of “Hit and Get Away” the cleverest pugilist to strap on a pair. But it wasn’t simply saloon tales that convinced the likes of Humphreys, Nat Fleischer, James J. Corbett, and many others of Griffo’s glove-swatting, head-dancing genius. The 10-round bout with Jack McAuliffe, undefeated lightweight champion of the world, at the Seaside A.C. in Brooklyn, New York, was one that helped leave an indelible impression. The legendary Irishman was favored against the relative newcomer to American shores, but once the bout had ended, he looked nothing like the betting favorite they made him. The contest saw McAuliffe cut loose with hundreds of shots, only to find that he was outwitted and countered at virtually every turn. So much so that Griffo seemed impervious to anything Jack could produce offensively. This prompted some in the crowd to snidely remark, “Is this the Champion McAuliffe who is fighting? He acts more like an amateur.” Griffo himself was having a good time of it all as he “peppered McAuliffe with jabs, hooks, uppercuts and every scientific punch known to the Queensberry code,” continually inquiring of the champion while sporting a smile, “Where will I hit you next, Jack?”
“The Napoleon of the Prize Ring” was out-generaled by this fistic equivalent of the Duke of Wellington. Only McAuliffe’s good friend and referee Maxie Moore prevented the sole blemish on Jack’s loss column when he awarded the champion the bout in spite of the cries of “Griffo, Griffo.” The Zephyr of All-Time, as Fleischer put it, was robbed. George Dixon, another master of the gloved game who laid claim to being the first black man to ever wear a championship belt and did so at both the bantamweight and featherweight limits, encountered similar difficulties in each of his contests with this “Wizard of the Antipodes”, especially the rubber match held at the Manhattan Athletic Club. Dixon, like McAuliffe, rushed Griffo throughout the set-to, working like a horse to get in a wallop that would do damage and sway the fight in his favor. This strategy only played to Griffo’s illimitable gifts as a defensive craftsman, as the original “Will o’ the Wisp” evaded virtually everything that came his way. For a period of four rounds it was said that the dusky titleholder missed every strike he mustered.
The Brooklyn Eagle confirmed Griffo’s remarkable showing in the art of self-defense, remarking that “no trick that he could try could penetrate the magnificent defense of the phenomenal Australian…. Griffo’s defense was impenetrable.” The Washington Post, no less glowing in their coverage, stated Griffo “gave a masterly exhibition of defensive fighting…from a scientific point of view Griffo is the better man. He familiarized himself with Dixon’s methods, and measured his man’s science to perfection. Griffo’s success with Dixon proves that the negro is at his worst when fighting an active man at short range.” Griffo’s boundless cleverness made a lasting imprint on Barbados Joe Walcott conqueror, Kid Lavigne, as well. In the two fights they had, both draws, Lavigne claimed to have never seen hands so fast and head movement so slick. The worst part of it all, “The Saginaw Kid” recalled, was that Griffo didn’t seem to move anywhere when he was boring in, haymakers in tow. The Australian wonder just stood his ground like a rock and reached into his depthless bag of tricks to confuse the trajectory of Lavigne’s forthcoming blows. Part of the Police Gazette writer Sam Austin’s account of the rematch adds weight to Lavigne’s grumblings: “Griffo would stand in one spot on the space one could cover with a handkerchief and by moving his head the fraction of an inch made Lavigne look foolish.” Descriptions like this bring to the mind images of the late, great Nicolino Locche. The list of frustrated contemporary legends extends further still, to one of the most well-rounded prizefighters in ring history: “The Old Master”, Joe Gans. The Baltimorean had it all— fast hands, a mighty wallop, sharp technique, good footwork, toughness, fantastic blocking ability, you name it. When it came to ring I.Q., few possessed higher. But even he lacked the cunning to solve the Rubik’s Cube that was Griffo’s fist-buffer until he was well past his best. Griffo and Gans met three times, with the second being the only full-on set-to they had near Griffo’s prime—though even by that time the Australian was considered over-the-hill. Gans wasn’t quite “The Old Master” that day, recounting the tale of the bout a few years after it had happened: “I’ll never forget my experience in the ring with that Kid Griffo. We met in the ring at the Olympic Club at Athens, Pa., and it was agreed that we were to divide the purse, win or lose. I trained for three weeks for the bout, and when I got a flash at Griffo in his corner I noticed that a fold of fat wobbled over his belt. He was in fit condition for a sanitarium instead of a prize ring, and I told Herford [Al Herford, Joe Gans’ manager] that I would make short work of the Australian phenom, as they called him. We were to go fifteen rounds, and I thought I could do Griff in about three punches at the wind. I had an idea that he would keep away from me, but that’s where he fooled me. You would naturally think that a man in his condition would steer away from a punch, but he crowded me from the first tap of the gong. “He clearly outboxed me, but every time he tapped me I smiled at him. ‘See here, old chap,’ he said, ‘I’m out for a draw, and don’t get awfully rude with me because I ‘av a bloomink pain in me stomach and if you slam me once in the body it will be all off. So don’t get rude, and be a gentleman.’ I tried my prettiest to bore a stomach punch into him, but I only caught him on the glove at every trial, and then I switched my tactics and tried for his jaw, but he was inside of me at every punch, and when I led he stepped inside and showered a rain of taps with both hands. He had me tired once, I will admit, and it looked to me as if every one in the crowd was throwing boxing gloves at me. It’s a pity that a boxer of his talent never took care of himself, as he was the greatest defensive boxer that ever lived, and the most peculiar feature of his defense was that he was up and at the opponent all the time, fighting close on the inside of the guard. They talk about Fitzsimmons as a fighting machine, but as a mechanical boxer Fitz never classed with Griffo.” This is praise of the highest kind, considering “Fitz” was Gan’s mentor and idol. But it’s not enough to say Griffo matched wits with multiple prizefighting giants of his day. There is more to the story, as a close reading of Gans’ recollection shows. The ‘paunch’ Gans alluded to was no doubt a product of Griffo’s lack of training, which consisted far more of his previously mentioned drinking than running, bag-hitting, or anything else that looked like traditional exercise. So heavy was he on the alcohol that many times he was stone cold drunk on fight night and had to be pulled from his stool at whatever local bar he happened to attending. Oftentimes he was thrown into a Turkish Bath to sweat it out and sober up before they slapped a pair of gloves on him and tapped the gong. Such was the case for his scheduled contests with Ike Weir and Young Scotty. Against Jimmy Dime, a quality up-and-coming lightweight, Griffo was seized from John L. Sullivan’s hotel room, which allegedly looked like a bowling alley, only it wasn’t pins laying around but champagne bottles. Griffo, in all three cases, still went on to terrorize his foes with remarkable skill. The truth of the matter about the Australian Zephyr’s character was put into words by former trainer, Tim McGrath:
“The fact that he never became a champion was due partly to his lack of ambition. Glory and money meant little to him. He loved his good times, and it was impossible to get him into condition. No manager ever did. He never took a fight seriously and was never in condition for one that I know of.”
We can only surmise what he could have accomplished with a more driven spirit, but given what we do have, it’s more than enough for him to be proclaimed the supreme defensive artisan of his day, and one for all-time.
''You'll have to hand it to Young Griffo, the wonderful Australian boxer, for originaility. Griffo, in his prime, was in the habit of going on terrible sprees at intervals and drove his trainers nearly insane by his wild ways. He usually managed to straighten out in time to go into the ring fit, however, and was so wonderfully clever that he never had to stand any punishment.
He had a friend who was warden at one of the jails in Brooklyn and whenever he wanted to recover trom a spree, used to go over there and give himself up. The jail authorities couldn't take him in without commitment papers, but he had that all fixed up so one of the judges would make out the papers for as long a time as was desired on very short notice.
Once in jail, Griffo wouldn't be able to get any more whisky and he soon would straighten up. But in order to guard against a possible relapse, he was kept in for several days and if he happened to be near one of his fights, we would arrange for some good strong boy to go to the bastile and box with him in the afternoons.
Just before he fought George Dixon before the Manhattan Club in New York, he went on a big drunk and the commitment papers were so worded that he was to emerge on the afternoon of the battle. He carried out his usual program of boxing and training while in confinement and was able to give Dixon a good battle, the result of the encounter being a 10-round draw. That night before the battle, some drunk who was put into the jail got noisy. This made Griffo furious and he proceeded to knock the vociferous gentleman down, exclaiming indignantly: 'There, blime yer, keep quiet; I am a-training and I can't 'ave all this 'ere bally row.''
This is the photo that was used for the production of the Young Griffo rookie card, one of my favorite boxing card sets, 1890 Mayo's Cut Plug Prizefighters series (N310), it's one of the earliest boxing card sets in history. They were released in the year 1890 by P.H. Mayo & Brother to promote Mayo's Cut Plug tobacco products. Each card has the Mayo's Cut Plug logo on the front of the card. The backs are blank on these cards and each card has two different variations where the name of the fighter can be found over the top of the fighter or underneath the fighter. Highly sought-after set. I've posted photos of both variations of the card, name on top and bottom. The image was also used for the production of his T220 Mecca Cigarettes card.
This is what the 1890 Mayo's Cut Plug Young Griffo card looks like slabbed.
Great shot of Young Griffo (left) in a posed sparring photo with Canadian boxer Walter Campbell.
A cartoon depiction of Young Griffo and George Dixon that appeared in a publication after they fought in 1895, I'll profile George Dixon later in the thread, Dixon is one of the greatest to ever do it. George Dixon's primary boxing nickname was "Little Chocolate," but he was also known as "The Chocolate Drop," recognizing his status as the first Black world boxing champion. He was a pioneer of scientific boxing, renowned for his speed and skill in the bantamweight and featherweight divisions. George Dixon was a long-reigning world champion, holding the Bantamweight title in 1890 and then the Featherweight title for significant periods, notably from 1891-1897 and again from 1898-1900, becoming the first fighter to win titles in multiple weight classes, ruling the lighter divisions for nearly a decade, a true all-time great.
Featherweight champion George Dixon and former champion Young Griffo fought to a 25 round draw in a non-title bout at the Seaside Athletic Club on Coney Island in New York on April 19th in 1895.
In a battle of two supremely talented and skilled technicians, Dixon and Griffo boxed 25 busy rounds where neither fighter was remotely hurt. Reports on the attendance range from 4,500 to 6,000, but it was enough of an attraction to draw several thousand for a non-title bout in a state where prizefighting had been outlawed.
One report said, "There was nothing brutal about the bout, and everyone agreed it was a superb exhibition of scientific boxing. Dixon was, perhaps, the stronger of the two, but was at a slight disadvantage in the matter of weight. Griffo showed himself to be a splendid judge of distance, a good general, though not a particularly hard hitter."
The decision was well-received, though Griffo's supporters were enthusiastic and loud about their belief that Griffo should have been declared a winner.
I don't know anything about boxing, but I really enjoyed this!
The White Horse Hotel in George Street Sydney Australia, owned by boxing legend Larry Foley, at the back of the hotel was Larry's gym , The Iron Pot, where he trained greats such as Bob Fitzsimmons , Young Griffo, Peter Jackson and Frank “ Paddy “ Slavin. Larry had a pretty good assistant trainer, a certain Jem Mace, the legendary bare knuckle fighter.
Cartoons depicting the legendary defensive wizardry of Young Griffo, the bottom cartoon has him making Merlin look like a fool.
Indeed, Young Griffo was the Nicolino Locche of his era.
Young Griffo (shorter man in the demonstrations) is one of the most impressive boxers you'll ever read about. He was a serious alcoholic that never showed up to his fights in shape, but was able to get the better of all-time greats, the best of the era like Joe Gans, Jack McAuliffe, Kid Lavigne and George Dixon.
Griffo was a freak talent, the most lauded boxing technician and trainer of the time in Larry Foley said that he barely had to train Griffo and that he just understood boxing as if it were second nature. He was near impossible to hit, having a unique defensive style that saved him when his physical fitness wouldn’t.
A couple more photos of Young Griffo.
Sadly, like a lot of legendary fighters, Young Griffo died broke, down and out. This is an article written by the New York Times after he died.
YOUNG GRIFFO DIES PENNILESS, OBSCURE; Once Marvel of Boxing Ring, He Succumbs at 55 in Room He Got Rent Free. LONG A TIMES SQ. FIGURE Sportsmen of Bygone Days and Theatre Crowds Helped Him Get Precarious Living.
Credit...The New York Times Archives
December 8, 1927
Young Griffo, who thirty years ago fought and drank with the best of them, died yesterday morning in his little basement room at 466 West Forty-third Street. With the passing of time he had lost everything but that room, a suit of clothes, his friends and one famous old trick—he could still catch a fly in flight between his thumb and finger. It was thirty-four years ago that Albert Griffith came out of Australia, a young, hard-fighting man destined under the name of Young Griffo to be called one of the cleverest boxers who ever entered the ring. He fought George Dixon, “Kid” Lavigne, Jack McAuliffe and Joe Gans, but never much of a trainer and always a believer in spending money when he had it regardless of the consequences to his health, he left the ring twenty years ago without having won a title and battered and flabby. Since then he had earned a precarious living doing odd jobs for his friends, acting as referee or umpire at small games and bouts and existing on the help of his acquaintances. Every one liked him; and as old-time ring enthusiasts, actors, gamblers and those who wished to help him passed his nightly station at the rear of the Rialto Theatre, they would stop for a brief chat and give him money. On rainy nights he was allowed to sit inside the stage door, but his friends could not see him as easily, and sometimes on rainy nights he went hungry.
Occupied His Usual Haunts.
Tuesday evening, following the schedule of years, Young Griffo left his home, shortly after 7 o'clock, walked along Forty-third Street to Broadway and then down through the theatre crowds for a block to his usual stand. He sat in the same place, and as always, held before him an afternoon paper he had picked from the street. Young Griffo couldn't read, but he insisted on the paper perhaps he liked the pictures, perhaps he thought it gave him an air of dignity. As he sat on his step of an evening, it was hard to figure the white-haired heavy man of fifty-five as the once dashing fighter who weighed 120 pounds.
After the theatre crowd had passed him on its way home he started for his customary walk up Broadway to Forty-eighth Street. All the newsboys along the route knew him and several gave him early editions of the papers. When he reached the end of his promenade he turned, retraced his steps as far as Forty-third Street, and then went again to his home. He reached his little room shortly before midnight, for Mrs. Rose Collins, the woman who had given it to him rent free, for half a dozen years, heard him come in. She felt somewhat responsible for him, as a matter of fact, for in the days of his good fortune Young Griffo had done something for her—that something being the performance of his tricks in the saloon her husband owned. The fighter brought trade to the door when the Collinses needed it; it was only just that she help him when he in turn was down. About 2:30 in the morning she was awakened by a knock on the door of her room on the first floor. She opened it: there was Young Griffo holding one hand to his throat, supporting himself by the door handle with the other. "I'm sick; I'm choking," he said, then fell to the floor. His benefactress made haste to prepare something hot for him, as Prospero Panza, who occupies a room in the house, came in to lend his assistance. It was no use, however, for by the time Dr. Janway of Bellevue Hospital arrived Young Griffo was dead, the victim, apparently, of apoplexy.
Stories in Wake of Vivid Career.
In the course of his hectic career the fighter had been responsible for many stories which, told over and over, have attained the dignity almost of legends. He is seen, in the light of thirty years after, as a swashbuckling figure who never trained, yet was the cleverest boxer of them all; one whose custom it was to remain in saloons until literally the last hour before a scheduled bout. Among his tricks, the delight of sportsmen of bygone days, was that in which he placed a handkerchief on the floor, stood on it, and then bet any one who cared to try that his head could not be bit. He was so quick at moving his body and dodging that few of them ever won, despite the fact that his feet never left the small space on which he stood. Another, and one which remained with him until the end, was an ability to catch a fly in motion, between his thumb and his index finger. Sometimes he would vary the proceeding of the handkerchief trick by standing facing a mirror and then betting all comers that they could not strike the back of his head. He watched the reflection, always dodging in the nick of time, and always winning the drinks. When he was trying his hardest in his profession he would get a friendly Judge to lock him up for the thirty days or so preceding a fight, thus making sure that he would do at least a certain amount of training for it.
His body was taken to the Morgue yesterday afternoon, where an autopsy will be made this morning; then it will likely be returned to the undertaking parlors of George P. Madine on Tenth Avenue for burial. It was thought for a time yesterday that it might be necessary to bury Young Griffo in Potters' Field, but friends came forward, including the Rev. Father Francis P. Duffy, whose Holy Cross Church is not far away from where the old fighter watched the crowds pass his Rialto steps, who have made that unnecessary. "He certainly will not go to Potters' Field," Father Duffy said. "I will see that he is given a decent burial. I met Al several years after I became pastor of the church," he continued. "I used to put little jobs in his way, such as acting as umpire or referee in games and bouts in the parish. He was not a Catholic, but we liked each other and I often stopped as I passed the Rialto steps to talk to him. It was only a few days ago I noticed that his collar was open and warned him to close it as a protection against the cold weather. I feel sure now that he must have been sick at the time."
I wish there was film of Young Griffo, I'd give my left pinky finger to see him do his handkerchief trick, or to watch him slipping punches. If you want to know more about the legendary Young Griffo, I would recommend this book written about him.