The Life and Adventures of Ben Hogan, the Wickedest Man in the World

by Ben Hogan

Against what is called the “manly art of self-defense,” or pugilism, there is a popular prejudice, which is not founded, I think, in experience or common-sense. There is not a gentleman of my acquaintance, or, I presume, in the world, who does not recognize the utility of the art of self-defense. Not very long ago the newspaper press published an incident which may, I think, be regarded as a case in point. It occurred on a railroad car, and in relation to a couple of ladies, evidently of delicacy and refinement, whose ears had been assailed by some indecent language and ribald jests on the part of two burly scoundrels, who were seated behind them. Fortunately, there was a well-known athlete in one of the seats directly opposite the ladies, and he interfered at once, begging the two men to discontinue their objectionable language or to retire to the smoking-car. This was the signal for a volley of abuse, and certain threats, which had for their object the intimidation of the speaker, and which were followed by a renewal of their objectionable sayings, intended still further for the ears of the ladies. Upon this, the champion of decency and good conduct arose from his seat, observing, at the same time, if there was a repetition of the offense he would eject both the men from the car, in which there were but two or three additional passengers. Upon this, the two ruffians jumped up, and, bounding over to him, with most opprobrious epithets, dared him to make good his threats. There was not another word on the subject; for, with the speed of lightning, the athlete sprang upon them, caught one in each hand, and, dashing their heads together, whipped them off their feet and dragged them out of the car, and into the smoking-car, upon the floor of which he threw them, simply announcing his name, which was quite enough for the pair of vagabonds, as they did not put in an appearance in the car from which they had been ejected for the rest of the journey.

Now, it is quite obvious, that had not this gentleman undergone a course of physical training, he could not have disposed of the ruffians as summarily or have done such meritorious work in the service of the two refined and delicate creatures whose ears had been thus outraged—nay more, he could not have protected himself from an assault had it been made upon him, had he not had trained muscles, which enabled him to illustrate the utility of this art by not only avenging himself for an outrage committed on all decency, but upon ladies into the bargain. Had he not been in a position through a well trained physique, he would have been constrained to submit to all he had seen and heard, and the axiom “self-preservation, etc.,” would have been a dead letter to him; but as the case stood, he not only vindicated his manhood, but won a handsome and wealthy wife besides.

Strange as it may sound in some ears, I have not met a noted pugilist who was not a gentleman. True, there are some men connected with the profession who forget themselves from time to time, but, as a general thing, all the stars of the ring have been good members of society. Sayers, Heenan, Goss, Spring, Crib, Morrissey, Edwards, etc., have all fine records; and yet I am very far from recommending the profession as a desirable one. It has its disadvantages, and serious ones of course, but, then, it has its redeeming side also. It repudiates the pistol, the bowie-knife, and every implement of the assassin, and is, withal, an art of peace, so to speak. I have never met a true son of the ring who was not as peaceable as a child, however unflinching or dogged his courage when once before the public.

Habit, they say is second nature. How necessary therefore, that our habits should be pure and good and conducive to health and strength. Our diet, our clothing, and the manner of our exercise should all tend to building up a perfect manhood. Under proper training, the human frame is capable of most wondrous feats of activity and endurance. I have been informed, and quite recently, that not long since a gentleman who holds a position in one of the gas companies of this city picked up in one hand a weight of two hundred and twenty pounds, at an exhibition in Gilmore’s Garden, and flourished it above his head. This was a wondrous feat of strength, and could no more have been accomplished by a man with untrained muscles, than could the removal of the Adirondacks by an infant. What should be the question, then, with every young person of either sex in the land? It is this, “Shall we enjoy the whole—the entirety of the life that the Good Father has given us, or shall we drawl out an imperfect existence from the cradle to the grave?”

Wealth has its mission, but what can it in any individual case accomplish without health? No matter how soft the cushions, no matter how luxurious the appointments, without health there is no enjoyment. When, therefore, life and light and health are placed in our keeping, to neglect the great boon is criminal. I tell you that you must cultivate life as you would an apple tree. It is in your keeping. You must not slur it over, and pet it one day and neglect it the next. Take it to your hearts all who read; keep your frame, your body, free from all impurities through the medium of temperance, healthy exercise, and the bath, and when the Angel of Death calls you home to God, you will have already acquired the rudimentary wings.

Now, to be more explicit, were such within my power, take an individual case: Here we shall suppose a delicate lad, as nerveless as the chicken that has just cracked its shell, and what shall we do with him? Say his years are ten or twelve. We shall begin to develop his muscles, which means strengthen his flesh until he feels himself that he can do something. We must take him inch by inch, so to speak, and give, by exercise and judicious manipulation, strength and consistence to his frame. If we find him weak in any particular direction, we must see to it. We must grasp the muscles that are known to be identified with that particular feature, and develop their power and capacity. When we come into contact with anything that is feeble, we must treat it with care; we must manipulate it, knead it, so to speak, until it has got true consistence and a name. We must call it into action gradually and cautiously, until it grows, as it were, under our hands, and begins to perform its mission with an efficacy and certainty of which we had no previous conception. And what does it all mean? It means health, strength, enjoyment of animal life, and enjoyment generally, so far as our mere physique is concerned. We are all subject to disease and discomfort bodily; but in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred we can avoid it or stave it off; we can fortify ourselves against it if we only keep the citadel of our body well manned by pure organs and good desires.

All the feats of strength of which we hear and read, are not the result of merely accidental muscular action, but an effort of well-trained muscles and of a desire to accomplish with ease and precision something out of the ordinary course of our action. The man who lifted the two hundred and twenty pounds with one hand in Gilmore’s Garden began, perhaps, with lifting twenty-eight pounds. Nor was there so much of a difference between the weights lifted this day and the next, so to speak. There was a gradual augmentation of weight and of power; and here is where the secret of all physical strength lies.

Now, much that I have said in relation to gentlemen applies to ladies also. Both are subject to the same laws of health and development. No matter how perfect and beautiful the form, it is still in a plastic condition. God gives the exquisite outlines, but it is for us to fill them up as it were. There is the arm, the bust and the limbs generally, but without physical culture they cannot attain the contour of expression in which their strength and loveliness should culminate. The spirit never glories in its habitation to so great an extent as when the body is at its best. The mysterious link between the one and the other is placed in our hands, and if we would unite them perfectly we must do it through temperance, true religion and physical culture. The means of the latter are placed within the reach of every individual, and to neglect them is to rebel against heaven and our own existence. Pope said more than he had intended, when he wrote “the proper study of mankind is man.” No doubt he had special reference to man’s metaphysical nature, for his was an age of metaphysics to a very grave extent; but the truth is, the study of our physical structure is of the first importance, for without a knowledge of it, its peculiarities and necessities, we shall be unable to give fair play to our other self.

A marked illustration of the benefits of physical training may be found in the fact that the skeleton of the famous Tom Sayers—for, if it must be confessed, the body of that noted pugilist was not permitted to remain undisturbed beneath the sod—presented bones of a texture so hard and so fine as to create surprise on the part of the medical men who inspected them. They were almost like ivory, and this, it was admitted, was owing to the continual hard rubbing of his limbs and the constant exercise of his muscles. This hand rubbing is a wondrous advantage in more than one relation. In my own experience I have found it to almost work miracles. In one case, a youth of seventeen, who had been given up by the doctors as a hopeless consumptive, happened to mention the circumstance to me. One of his lungs was, as I could perceive, very much diseased; but I thought that he might, notwithstanding, be saved yet. I took him in hands, and began by sponging his body regularly with tepid salt and water, and then drying and rubbing him gently with the palms of my hands, until his body was all aglow. I now insisted that he should, when the weather permitted it, take daily a short walk, during which he was to endeavor to inhale as much fresh, pure air as his lungs would contain. I soon found that with judicious diet, he was beginning to creep up a little, so I began to lengthen his walks, and at times to give him a short drive over rough roads in a common wagon. Although he came into my hands an absolute skeleton, in three months he gained eight pounds in weight, and was evidently determined to cheat the doctors. And yet, during that period he did not take a single particle of physic. The fresh air, the gentle exercise, and the constant hand rubbing of his limbs and his chest, which I began to expand, first with wooden dumb-bells, did the work, for the man is alive and well to-day.

It may not be generally known, but it is nevertheless true, that the hand of a healthy man when brought to bear in rubbing the body of an invalid, imparts a portion of his own strength and magnetism to the sufferer. And, although there are certain instances in which the services of the educated physician may not be dispensed with, yet, in the matter of weak lungs, weak physique and spinal derangements, the professor of physical culture has the advantage beyond all question. And this reminds me of another incident in my experience. The daughter of a very dear friend of mine, a child of about nine years of age, had a spine so weak that it became curved and shapeless; indeed, so much so that the poor little thing was quite deformed, to the despair of her parents, who loved her as they did the apple of their eye. Every remedy had been applied by them, but without avail; for there still sat the poor, pale, sickly thing, with the prospect of an early grave staring her in the face, or at best a life of suffering and misery. The first time I saw the sufferer and was informed of her malady, I felt assured that the rock salt bath and hand-rubbing would relieve her, if not result in a permanent cure. I gave directions, to be followed in my absence, having first myself performed one operation, during which I permitted the cold water from the sponge to drip from time to time along the spine. About two months afterward I made another visit to my friend, when I was well pleased to meet my little patient apparently quite well, and playing briskly on the sidewalk with some children of her own age. And so I found it in every case in which this treatment was applied to a weak frame or deranged nerves. There is an efficacy and a magnetism about it that is irresistible, as all who may have occasion to try it can prove to their satisfaction.