CHAPTER II
JAMES J. CORBETT AND JOHN L. SULLIVAN
The last three years of the nineteenth century were rich in great encounters, or so, at any rate, it seems to us now. The transition period, when bare-knuckle fighting had degenerated into the most sordid and secret ruffianism, had passed; and a virtually new sport had taken its place. And of all the giant names associated with Boxing as we understand the word, those of Corbett and Sullivan are immortal.
A boxer’s life, as a boxer, is a very short one, so that though both of these men have long since passed into the mythology of the Ring, both of them, were both alive, would be, at the time of writing, but of middle age.
James J. Corbett was a highly skilled heavy-weight whose title to fame as a scientific boxer has been much obscured by the fact that he began life by being a bank clerk. This genteel avocation had not formerly been mentioned in conjunction with the Ring, and much was made of the coincidence both in America and England. Corbett was not behindhand in fostering the impression of social superiority. And his nicknames of “Pompadour” and “Gentleman Jem” given him for the arrangement of his hair and his charm of manner, tended rather to overshadow his real merits. This is generally the case with boxers who assume or have assumed for them (by their business managers) airs which have nothing to do with the matter in hand. It is very amusing, when you think of it, how the lovers of boxing have always made implicit apologies for the sport by drawing attention to the extrinsic merits of its exponents. It is perfectly true that far more professional boxers have been blacksmiths or porters or dockers—“working-men,” in fact—than bank clerks or actors, but at this time of day such comparisons are surely irrelevant.
What matters most to us now is that Corbett was a first-rate boxer. He was a Californian, born in San Francisco in 1866. During the period of clerkdom he won various amateur competitions, and at the age of eighteen, turned professional. In 1889 he beat Joe Choynski—a very powerful slogger—thrice. The first of these battles lasted for twenty-eight rounds and was a particularly fierce one. Corbett was now generally recognised as a supremely scientific boxer. For so big a man his speed was prodigious, and the skill with which he used his feet amazing. He had the build of an all-round athlete, stood six feet one inch, and weighed thirteen stone in hard condition. He belonged to the new generation of boxers, of men who had never fought with bare knuckles. He had the distinction of being what is called a “scientific pugilist” and not a “prize-fighter.” And, as already explained, he was a person of some consequence, not a mere hewer of wood or shifter of barrels, but a bank-clerk. No end of a fellow, in fact ... but he was a good boxer.
His encounter with Sullivan took place at New Orleans on September 7th, 1892. It was supposed to be for the Championship of the World (as well as some £9000), but the title should be qualified by the word “white.” John Laurence Sullivan had not earned the full title of Champion, because he had, one imagines for his own convenience, refused to fight Peter Jackson. He “drew the colour-line,” as the saying is.
Sullivan was a mighty slogger, who had fought a great deal with his naked fists, and was a man of tried courage and endurance, but he was not a man of exceptional scientific skill. He was 5 feet 10½ inches in height, and weighed a good deal over 14 stone. He was thirty-four years of age.
John Heenan and Tom Sayers.