CHAPTER V.
TOM OWEN—1796–1799 (1820).[[74]]
Tom Owen, though living only in the memory of the present generation as a landlord combining liquor and literature, some fancy, more fun, a certain amount of old-school pugilism and much pretence, deserves a niche in this period of the History of British Boxing.
True it is the clumsy bespattering of praise with which, in bad English and worst taste, his name is loaded in “Boxiana,” may induce many of better judgment to turn from his biography; yet is there enough to furnish matter worthy the pen of the chronicler of deeds of courage and of skill.
Tom Owen was a native of Hampshire, being born at Portsea, on the 21st December, 1768.
Of the apocryphal rigmaroles which disfigure “Boxiana,” we shall not condescend to take any account; suffice it to say, that after several provincial encounters with the Smiths, Joneses, Greens, and Browns of his vicinity, Tom Owen came to London, where he followed the occupation of an oilman; a calling which the reader will perhaps condescend to remember was much more followed than now; for, as Byron says, “in those days we had not got to gas.”
A casual turn up caused an introduction to Mr. Jackson, who, perceiving the germ of future greatness in Tom, took him in hand, and, fancying his style, he was matched against the then celebrated Bully Hooper, for 100 guineas.
On the 14th, Nov., 1796, Owen met his formidable antagonist, who, it must be remembered (with the exception of his draw with Big Ben) was as yet unconquered. The battle-field was near Harrow. Owen was seconded by Joe Ward and Jack Bartholomew, Hooper by Symonds and Paddington Jones. “The contest,” says the reporter, “lasted rather more than an hour, during which the men fought fifty rounds of hard fighting, but for the most part of which Owen constantly kept a straight guard of such prodigious strength, that Hooper could never beat it down, and very seldom put in a hit. Hooper, in striking a blow, dislocated his shoulder, and being also dreadfully bruised, gave in. Owen was so little hurt, that he leisurely put on his clothes and walked away.”
TOM OWEN, 1820.
From a Portrait by George Sharples.