Tom Hyer: Like Father, Like Son
By MARK WEISENMILLER
There are all sorts of examples, in U.S. sports history, of sons and daughters of famous athletes trying to follow in their parents footsteps and try to claim athletic glory for his or herself. Rarely does this happen. This phenomenon is especially prevalent in Major League Baseball, but such scenarios happen in other sports as well. Yet, on a few occasions, there occurs a happy exception to this matter. On other occasions, the younger athlete—through hard work, perseverance, and varying degrees of athletic skill—sometimes does, indeed, surpass the athletic successes of his father or her mother. Such is the case with the bare knuckle battler Tom Hyer.
Hyer was a man with a short and strong Dutch name who also happened to be a terrific boxer. What makes this all the more remarkable is the shear fact that Hyer engaged in very few fights in his career. Notwithstanding, historians of American pugilism firmly believe that he was the first American heavyweight champion boxer.
His father, Jacob Hyer, was, in his younger days, quite the boxer himself. “The Ring” magazine has tagged Jacob as “The Father of the American Ring.” From the Fifth Edition of the book “An Illustrated History of Boxing,” which was published in 1997, comes the following:
“By a sort of traditional consent, the fight between Jacob Hyer and Tom Beasley in New York in 1816 is established as the first ring battle in America in which the rules that governed boxing in England were accepted by the principals. We accept Jacob Hyer of New York as the first American to fight professionally in public, and his son Tom as the first American heavyweight king.”
As for Tom, he was born on the first day of the year 1819. His fighting weight was 185 to 190 pounds and the fact that he stood over six feet tall (almost 6’3”) frequently gave him an advantage in reach over his opponents. These were the days when the usual stance of boxers in Britain and the United States was one in which both of their fists were clenched and both arms stretched out before them; one of the arms was usually positioned slightly closer to the chest, for protective purposes. This was the boxing stance that Tom Hyer used.
Hyer, who was an inductee of the International Boxing Hall of Fame, had his first major bout on September 9, 1841 against Country McCloskey (real name: George McChester) in Caldwell’s Landing, New York. In a bout that lasted just short of three hours (two hours and 55 minutes to be precise), Hyer beat McCloskey (or, if you prefer, McChester) in an incredible 101 round length match.
Remember, this was a time period in American pugilism history, when laws were so stupid that boxing was actually illegal in many states. The matches tended to take place either on rural farm fields, or on barges anchored in bodies of water, or in bars at night (when, so went the belief from the rather shady boxing promoters of the day, less patrolling and strolling policemen were on duty). If found guilty on charges affiliated with being caught boxing by police, those arrested boxers and/or promoters could conceivably be imprisoned. As a result, from an early point in American boxing history, the sport had a tendency to attract less-than-noble individuals.
This was especially true in the case of Tom Hyer. He was good friends with Bill Poole, better known by historians who specialize in U.S. history as “Butcher Bill,” who was “ a street-tough and leader of the ‘Bowery Boys’ and chief enforcer for the ‘Native Americans,’ who fought Irish gangs backed by Tammany Hall in the streets in order to seize control of ballot stations on election days.”
In 1855, this man who lived his life among the unquestionably dangerous gangs of New York City was murdered and it is believed that the “hit” was ordered by Irish mob boss John Morrisey. Though Hyer challenged Morrisey several times to fights but the Irishman always declined.
If the above information about Poole sounds vaguely familiar, that is because film director and producer Martin Scorcese featured him prominently in his 2002 film “Gangs of New York.” In that movie, he is called “Butcher Bill” Cutting and was portrayed by Best Actor Oscar-winning thespian Daniel day Lewis (Lewis also earned an Oscar nomination for this role, but did not win).
After Hyer’s September of 1841 win, he did not fight again professionally until 1849 and among boxing historians, it is not exactly agreed upon just what exactly he did during this time period. We do know for a fact that on May 31, 1848, he got into a bar-room brawl with a ruffian named Yankee Sullivan (which is lyrical enough to sound like a fictional name made up by a Hollywood screenwriter) in a pub in Manhattan. Many Dutch immigrants who sailed to New York, and elsewhere in America, brought their love of beer along with them when they flocked to the United States, and Tom Hyer was no exception.
In fact, his excessive drinking of beer in particular, and alcohol in general, is probably what killed him. He was only 43 when he died of cardiac dropsy on June 26, 1864. Part of his “New York Times” June 27, 1864 obituary reads: “He (Hyer) sat on his front stoop (at No. 155 E. 35th Street) about fifteen minutes, when he complained of illness and asked for ice water, which was furnished. Soon after he was taken to bed and continued to breath worse, breathing shorter and shorter and with greater difficulty until 5.30 o’clock yesterday morning when he expired.” An autopsy examination later “found the heart very large and fatty…the liver was also very much diseased, and the whole structure of it entirely degenerated…”
Hyer and Sullivan quickly came to discover that not only did they hate each other while both were drunk, but disliked each other when both were sober. Eventually, a fight was arranged to take place at Rock Point, Maryland on January 10, 1849. Unfortunately, Maryland law enforcement found out about the intended secretive bout and, scrambling to find another day and place for the match, the two met on February seventh, of the same year, at Stillpond Creek (which is situated relatively close to Baltimore).
In front of a large, freezing crowd of men bundled up in layers of clothing to protect themselves from the cold, raw Maryland winter, Hyer gave Sullivan a terrific pasting. Seventeen minutes and 18 seconds after it started, Hyer defeated Sullivan. The match lasted a total of 16 rounds.
Revitalized with energy, vigor, and with a renewed sense of purpose after this bout, Hyer then challenged William Perry, who was heavyweight champion of England to a match. Sadly, the bout never materialized.
Somehow this rejection by Perry seemed to sap the energy out of Tom Hyer. After he retired from boxing in 1851, his drinking increased precipitously. To seek a grander adventure, Hyer then decided to become a “Miner Forty Niner”—that is one of those men who traveled to California to try to become a successful gold prospector after a rich vein of gold was found in northern California during this time period. Failing to find any gold, a dejected Hyer returned to New York. Although Morrisey tried to arrange a boxing bout between him and George Thompson (who was a former sparring partner, and still a friend of Hyer’s) and a boxer backed by Morrisey, the bout never transpired.
Tom Hyer then became—there is no other appropriate term—a full-time drunkard. Despite being married and having children, he still spent many hours in bars, loudly and drunkenly challenging anybody who disagreed with his many viewpoints on the current issues of the world to fight. In 1855, he got into two fights, with two different men, in bars in New York City. Now a pathetic shell of the man he once was, Hyer tried for a comeback in boxing, against Tom Hunter in a bout held on July 13, 1857 in the nation’s capital of Washington D.C. Tom Hyer lost and, less than seven years later, he was dead.
Bill Richmond: One of A Kind
By MARK WEISENMILLER
For a man who had only 19 professional boxing bouts, Bill Richmond (born August 1763; died late December 1829) seems to – if we are to believe numerous sources and my research and verification of these sources tells me we should – have led a remarkably rich and interesting life. Probably this was due to the fact that at the age of 14 he left his life as a slave in the United States (he was born on Staten Island, New York) and was taken to live in England by English nobleman and soldier Hugh Percy. Although he still faced occasional racism in Great Britain, it is absolutely impossible to believe that Richmond would have had such a event-filled life had he remained in America and been a life-long slave.
All of us have met in our lives a person who, for many unexplained reasons, has left an unforgettable impression on us. He or she could be a husband or wife, a teacher or religious leader, a boss or an environmentalist, a businessman or woman, or a librarian. Bill Richmond seems to have been such a person and not just in the sporting world. So respected was he that, years after he retired from boxing (at the age of 55 !), he was among the few renowned athletes to serve as an usher at the coronation of George IV (who, incidentally, was a well known patron of the arts and athletics and gave much money in support of both) in July of 1821 in London, England’s Westminster Abbey.
After arriving in England, Hugh Percy paid for Richmond’s education. Afterwards, Percy apprenticed Richmond to a cabinetmaker in York. In the early 1790’s, Richmond married a white English woman. Her name was Mary Dunwick and their marriage was recorded in Wakefield on June 29, 1791. Richmond and his wife later had several children.
So, what we have here is a man who, even before having his first professional boxing match at age 36, already had an event-filled life. He had a profession, a wife and family, and was in excellent physical shape due to spending much of his life doing manual labor. Although he stood but 5’ 9”, he also had perfect co-ordination and virtually no body fat on him.
Author Luke G. Williams, who wrote the 2015 biography of the boxer entitled “Richmond Unchained,” wrote in an August 26, 2015 article in “The London Independent” newspaper “…by the 1820’s, Richmond had become hugely respected, not only as a boxer but as a trainer and tutor of both professional and amateur pugilists. For example, he gave lessons to the brilliant essayist William Hazlitt, who admiringly referred to him as ‘my old master,’ while Lord Byron (the famous British poet—M.W.) was also said to have been one of Richmond’s eager pupil.”
Williams also notes of Richmond (whose career record was 17 wins and only two losses) that “…he was in his forties and with a young family to support when he became a professional boxer. In the early 19th century, boxing, along with horse racing, was the dominant sport in England, with the pages of newspapers often containing exhaustive reports of the latest contests.”
Williams, who is probably the world’s leading authority on Richmond, was the first writer to break the news that, contrary to the popular and status quo belief that Richmond and British boxing champion Tom Cribb could not stand each other. In truth, it appears that Cribb had much respect for, as Richmond was sometimes called, “The Black Terror.” Evidence of this was the fact that Williams discovered a glowing tribute to Richmond that Cribb wrote after Bill died in 1829. Despite the fact that Cribb’s speech often used the word “nigger,” it also much praised Richmond. “He was my friend,” Cribb would simply and eloquently say of Richmond.
Another writer that was enamored by Richmond was the noted English writer Pierce Egan (who was a boxing writer much admired by The New Yorker’s A.J. Liebling who, himself, would eventually become a legendary boxing reporter and writer). In Volume I of Egan’s book Boxiana, Egan described Richmond as being “…intelligent, communicative, and well-behaved; and however actively engaged in promulgating the principles of milling, he is not so completely absorbed with fighting as to be incapable of discoursing on the subject.”
One of the possible reasons that he was such a notable and strikingly openly individual was the fact that he was brought up in a parsonage. In his adult years, Richmond could be described as being religious but not strikingly so. People who have had such an upbringing either stay true to such ethics, mores, and principals (as Richmond did) or they go in the polar opposite direction—that is they become incorrigible and, in general, impetuous.
Richmond’s career in boxing began in a curious manner: while attending a match that featured old, doddering boxer George Maddox, he then proclaimed to one and all that given the chance he (Richmond) could easily defeat Maddox if only given a chance to do so. Whereupon Richmond then indeed tried to do so and Maddox beat him up so bad and unmercifully that Richmond barely lasted three rounds. All of this happened in 1804.
In retrospect, losing the match to Maddox was the best thing that could have happened to Richmond, for “The Black Terror” was a fierce perfectionist and thus he determined to keep going and learning this boxing racket. The next year, 1805, Richmond, had a bout and his opponent was a Jewish man with the curious name of “Fighting Youssep.” Richmond won the fight, which eventually led to a scheduled bout against tough Jack Holmes. In a match that was epic in scope—it lasted 26 rounds—Richmond won the bout. Bill’s battle royale against Holmes, in turn, led to a match against Tom Cribb that occurred in October of 1805. This fight, which lasted 90 minutes, ended with Cribb winning the match.
Then, somewhat mysteriously, there is a four-year gap in Richmond’s boxing career; his next known match took place on April 9, 1809 against Isaac Wood in Combe Wood, England; Richmond won the match in 23 rounds. Exactly four months later—on August ninth—he beat his old nemesis, George Maddox, in a match that lasted 52 rounds. Yet “The Black Terror” was aging and, despite being in excellent physical shape, Richmond was finding it more difficult to “bounce back” after one of his typical very long lasting (i.e., many rounds) fights.
Not long after he retired from boxing, he owned and operated a popular pub in London and, when not busy with this endeavor, he stayed involved in pugilism by creating and operating a boxing academy. Richmond still, even in (what was the considered) his elderly years, weighed close to his usual 152 to 168 lbs. fighting days range. He also continually tried to learn new things and something not often mentioned by bare knuckle boxing fans is that, regarding his pugilistic career, he was self-taught.
One of the ironic things about Richmond was the facts behind his death. Surprisingly, this seemingly perpetually constantly moving man died rather mundanely at his home; someone of his panache usually expires in a more notable manner and in a more glamorous place (such as, for example, Venice, Italy). One hundred seventy years after his death, in 1999, Bill Richmond was inducted in to the International Boxing Hall of Fame in upstate New York. Thus, in a somewhat grim and ironic way, the New York-born, but mostly England-native, Richmond finally, in a way, returned to the United States of America.
Jack Broughton: “The Father of English Boxing”
By MARK WEISENMILLER
Very few people in the long, rich history of boxing can be said to have had massive influence on the sport in numerous ways. The famous British bare knuckle boxer of the 1700’s, Jack Broughton, was one such person. He was an intelligent and massively talented pugilist. After he retired, he even wrote a set of rules for the sport, which became known as “Broughton’s Rules,” that regulated the sport for many decades ahead. For these reasons, he is known as “The Father of English Boxing.”
This man, who lived in economic and social hard times, was himself a mentally and physically hard man. He stood 5 ft., 11 and ½ inches tall, weighed 200 lbs., and had very little fat on his physique. This Englishman’s career was greatly enhanced by an interest taken in him by the Duke of Cumberland. The Duke became Jack’s patron. For it was relatively common at that time for wealthy aristocratic Englishmen to subsidize lower-class Englishmen who had various degrees of pugilistic skills. These boxers were, due to their patrons shelling out hundreds of pounds to pay for their training, in a sense entertainment slaves for the British aristocracy and super-rich. Broughton came to the attention of the Duke when the latter was visiting a school of the manly arts and Broughton beat him in a cudgel match.
Boxing in England at the time resembled very little of today’s sweet science. If anything, with its primitive aspects, it resembled more that alleged entertainment tool, for fools and television executives, known as the UFC.
Boxing matches, such as they were, were held on farmers’ fields, public parks, or on the estate of one of the boxer’s patrons. As this was bare knuckle boxing there were, of course, no gloves for the participants although Broughton invented what he called “mufflers.” However, these precursors to today’s boxing gloves were only used in exhibition matches or when the pugilists were in training for a bout. Today’s reader will find it funny that the main purpose for Broughton inventing the mufflers were not to protect the boxers hands but to protect the faces of the many British fops—who were usually the sons of Establishment figure—so that they would maintain their prettiness.
During a fight, the pugilists would be shirtless, wear skin-tight breeches with long white stockings, and have black leather boxing boots on their feet. Matches were usually, but not always, held outdoors. Sometimes these bouts would have referees and sometimes they would not. Many English boxers came via a School of Arms that was owned and operated by James Figg (who, from 1719 to 1730, was the first known British boxing champion). At the School of Arms, numerous young men came to attend and learn what was then called “the manly arts of self-defense.” These arts inlcuded boxing, cudgeling (a cudgel is a thick, short stick that is used as a weapon) and swordplay. The emphasis on cudgeling and swordplay came directly from Figg; he had done both in his youth and believed that they helped build boxers stamina and also their sense of equilibrium. Indeed, some boxing historians who specialized in this time period believe that Figg was a much more talented swordsman than a boxer.
One has to always keep in mind the place and time period that our profiled boxers in the Bare Knuckle Boxers Corner department were born into and this is certainly the case with Jack Broughton. He was born in 1704 during the First British Empire and died on January 8, 1789 during the Second British Empire. Thus, all of his life he lived in the country which, more or less, ruled much of the world and the man’s natural cockiness may stem from this fact. Britannia, to borrow a lyric from an old song, ruled the waves and also much of the Earth’s land.
To maintain these empires, the British ruling aristocracy needed cheap labor and lots of it. To accomplish this in commonwealths and dominions, over-ruling British simply made conquered peoples into their slaves. Then it occurred to the English aristocrats that they could use cheap labor for their various forms of entertainment as well. One such example was the Duke of Cumberland (who was the third son of King George II) and his treatment of Broughton. Technically, he was Broughton’s patron but, viewed by today’s standards, Broughton can be termed as the Duke’s serf. Boxing matches were one of the few places where the English aristocracy and the wretched lower classes were able to interact and talk with each other.
Boxers during that time period were mostly big, husky maulers, but Broughton is distinctive from the others by the simple fact that he gave much thought to having a defensive strategy and then quickly and powerfully counter-attacking. He was among the first known boxers, in British boxing history, to block an opponent’s punches rather than standing, like a dolt, in the middle of the ring and openly receive an opponent’s punches. Broughton, who was quite intelligent, also learned which parts of the human body were most susceptible to pain and then concentrated on hitting his opponent’s body in said parts.
He was especially adept at luring an opponent close to him by pretending that he was hurt and then, when the opponent was close, he would unleash a fusillade of punches at the opponent’s belly. In Broughton’s own primitive way, he made boxing into a sort of art. In his profile in the 1989 reference book “The Art of Boxing,” it’s noted that Broughton specialized in something calling “‘milling on the retreat,’ i.e., moving backwards and drawing an opponent into punches, so their effectiveness is doubled.” He also was good at counter-punching and quickly retreating from danger.
During the time period when Broughton was boxing, no such thing as fair play existed. That is, during a boxing match, no set of well thought out rules for the sport existed. He, therefore, created “Broughton’s Rules,” to bring some sort of structure and control to British boxing matches. Once he became the Duke’s patron, Broughton was employed with the Yeoman of the Guard at the Tower of London until his death in 1789.
The bald Broughton is credited, by the late and famed British boxing historian Pierce Egan, with one of the most famous quotes ever attributed to a boxer. In 1750, in what would be his last fight, against Jack Slack (who was a butcher by trade and thus had massive biceps and forearms), both of Jack’s eyes were swollen shut due to taking a pounding from Slack. When the Duke (who was nearby and had bet thousands of pounds against Broughton winning the bout) told him to submit, Broughton shouted “I’m blind, but I’m not beat!” Actually Broughton, in this August 1750 bout, was beat; he lost the fight in 14 minutes to Slack and thus also the English heavyweight championship.
Due to a lack of verifiable information and records, we have few, hard, unquestionable, ascertainable facts about Broughton’s boxing career. We do not know how many fights he had, how many he won, and how many he lost. We do not even know if he had any boxing matches outside of England (although, due to the Duke virtually owning Broughton, we can assume not).
What we do know is that his first major boxing match was in the 1730’s when he took on George Taylor of Norfolk at the annual Southwark Fair and beat Taylor decisively.
Broughton had been boxing for about five or six years previously, but his win against Taylor was the bout that began to get Jack nation-wide attention. Taylor, who was another of James Figg’s students, succeeded Figg as champion.
Broughton’s reputation for honesty and decency quickly became nationally known and hence, boxing began to be viewed as a legitimate sport by the English.
Five years after this bout with Taylor, Broughton had a 45-minute long match against George Stevenson. Even by the wide latitude given to the then embryonic sport of boxing, this was a brutal bout. Stevenson, who was a Yorkshire coachman, was sponsored by the Prince of Wales. Though Stevenson was a valiant opponent, Broughton was way too much for him. Near the end of the bout, the exhausted Stevenson, with both of his hands held low and thus not giving him adequate protection, was a recipient of a punch to the heart by Jack. Stevenson took the full force of the blow and promptly lost consciousness. The bout, of course, then ended. Stevenson was hurt more seriously than anyone in the audience realized; he came out of his coma-like state, but died a few weeks later in Broughton’s arms.
All of this was simply too much for Jack Broughton and he began to think that a set of regulatory rules for English boxing should be created. So “Broughton’s Rules,” as they came to be known, were formally made official in England on August 16, 1743. Interestingly, the seven rules that he created did not completely clean up the sport; such things as wrestling and other semi-barbaric items were still allowed as per “Broughton’s Rules.” Here, in their entirety, are the seven rules, as per author Harry Mullan’s 1996 book “The Ultimate Encyclopedia of Boxing.” Please note that all errors in grammar, mis-spellings, and punctuation are Broughton’s; these are the rules as he wrote them.
One: That a square of yard be chalked in the middle of the Stage, and in each fresh set-to after a fall, or being from the rails, each second is to bring his man to the other side of the square and place him opposite to the other, and until they are fairly set-to at the Lines, it shall not be lawful for one to strike at the other.
Two: That, in order to prevent any Disputes, the time a man lies after a fall if the Second does not bring his Man to the side of the square within the space of half a minute, he shall be deemed a beaten Man.
Three: That in every Main Battle no person whatever shall be upon the Stage, except the Principals and the Seconds, the same rule to be observed in Bye-battles, except that in the latter Mr. Broughton is allowed to be upon the Stage to keep decorum and assist Gentlemen in getting to their places, provided always he does not interfere in the Battle, and whoever pretends to infringe these Rules to be turned immediately out of the house. Everyone is to quit the Stage as soon as the Champions are stripped, before the set-to.
Four: That no Champion be deemed beaten, unless he fails coming up to the line in the limited time or that his own Second declares him beaten. No Second is to be allowed to ask his Man’s adversary any questions or advise him to give out.
Five: That in Bye-battles the winning man have two-thirds of the Money given, which shall be publicly divided upon the Stage, notwithstanding private agreements to the contrary.
Six: That to prevent Disputes, in every Main Battle the Principals shall, upon coming to the Stage, choose from among the Gentlemen present two Umpires, who shall absolutely decide all Disputes that may arise about the Battle; and if the two Umpires can not agree, the said Umpires to choose a third, who is to determine it.
Seven: That no person is to hit his Adversary when he is down or seize him by the ham, the breeches, or any part below the waist; a man on his knees to be reckoned down.
Broughton was so respected throughout the English sporting world that, incredibly, most of the ragamuffins who then passed for boxers began to learn, and then follow “Broughton’s Rules.” These rules would be the regulator of British boxing for almost a century until they were replaced by the London Prize Ring Rules of 1838.
As for Gentlemen Jack Broughton, after he retired, he ran an academy of boxing. When that failed, he converted the academy into a furniture warehouse that also sold antiques. With the profits from these two forms of business, he then successfully invested in the stock market and became even wealthier. He was 84 (old by the standards of 1700’s era England) when he died. Buried in Lambeth, England, he was also venerated in the country when a memorial paving stone, in his honor, was laid in his honor at Westminster Abbey—which still can be seen today by any visitor or tourist to the Abbey.
John Carmel Heenan
By Kirk Lang
Leon Spinks will forever be remembered for annexing the world heavyweight championship from the great Muhammad Ali with only seven pro fights under his belt.
Nineteenth century pugilist John Carmel Heenan, it could be said, did one better. Despite having no more than three official bare-knuckle fights that’s right, three, The Benecia Boy has posthumously been inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame, The Ring Boxing Hall of Fame and the Bare Knuckle Boxing Hall of Fame.
He didn’t walk away a winner in any of those bouts, but his efforts clearly left a mark. His most famous of the three was a two-and-a-half hour challenge of English heavyweight champion Tom Sayers which ended in a draw – that was so brutal, it forced the transition from bare-knuckle to gloved boxing in England and led to rules that still define modern day boxing, such as three-minute rounds and ten second rest periods.
Born in Troy, NY on May 2, 1835, Heenan apprenticed as a machinist after minimal schooling. At 17 he left home and settled in Benicia, California, where he found work at the Pacific Mail Steamship Company in the foundry. Working 12-hour days swinging a 32-pound sledge hammer, he was building up his body for a fighting career on the horizon.
By 1857, Heenan had developed a reputation as a barroom brawler, but it was suggested by some that he take his fists elsewhere, and so he returned to his home state with an English boxing trainer by the name of Jim Cusick.
Though bare knuckle boxing was illegal, Henan’s first taste of in-the-ring combat was a legal exhibition against future American heavyweight champion Joe Coburn in December 1857.
Records reveal that Heenan had two more exhibitions both in Boston against Johnny Cocky Woods in March 1858 before his first illegal honest-to-goodness bare-knuckle fight, against no less than reigning American heavyweight champion John Morrissey.
Heenan’s training for the October 20, 1858 bout was disrupted by injury – an unhealed ulcer on his leg, that led to an infection that weakened him – and thus he was not in top shape. No matter. Heenan still did well, nevertheless.
Accounts of the fight note that Heenan dominated the early rounds, though Sayers impressed at times with well-placed body punches.
In the 9th round, Heenan got a bit carried away. He swung wildly, missed Sayers but connected with a ring post and broke his right-hand. If fighting one-handed wasn’t bad enough, Heenan had to contend with more than one person. Morrissey’s rabid supporters involved themselves in the match, allegedly stepping on Heenan’s damaged hand every time he went down.
He was also punched in the kidneys anytime he got near the ropes. The referee apparently took a blind eye this and and could possibly have even been paid off. While Heenan started off the bout in strong fashion, one report said the tide began to turn in Morrissey’s favor around the fifth frame.
At the start of the 11th round, Heenan came out staggering, barely able to stand. It wasn’t long before Morrissey landed a shot to Henan’s jugular that sent him crashing and down for good, according to the report by The New York Herald, which noted that Heenan did not gain consciousness for half an hour.
Morrissey refused to give Heenan a rematch, and this was deemed a sign Morrissey knew he could not defeat Heenan in a fair fight. In refusing a return bout, Morrissey effectively retired. Heenan, on the other hand, was awarded the championship by default.
Finding it difficult to get fellow Americans in the ring, Heenan and his trainer decided the next move would be to face English heavyweight champion Tom Sayers, in his home country. The match-up was given great coverage on both sides of the Atlantic, as it marked boxing’s first world championship fight. Heenan had issued a challenge to Sayers sometime in 1859, the same year he married vaudeville actress Adah Isaacs Mencken.
The fight came off on April 17, 1860, near the tiny village of Farnborough and commenced around 7:30 a.m.
Though Heenan was in the champion’s backyard essentially, he still figured he held the advantages and victory would be his.
At 25, he was nearly a decade younger than Sayers and at 6’2 and weighing around 190 to 195 pounds, he had a nearly 40-pound weight advantage. Sayers only stood 5’8 but was known for having the heart of a lion, and he demonstrated such against Heenan.
If Sayers was already the underdog at least as far as age, height and weight – he didn’t help his case when he broke a bone in his right arm blocking a punch. Essentially one-handed, he then focused on attacking Heenan’s eyes, according to The Telegraph, and ultimately swelled his right eye shut.
In the 37th round, according to one account of the match-up, The Irish American strangled Sayers by pushing his head down over the top rope. The ropes were cut and the crowd invaded the ring, but that did not end matters.
The ring was re-pitched a short distance away and the bare-knuckled pugilists continued swapping blows.
The bout which reportedly lasted 2 hours and 27 minutes came to an end when the police showed up at the edge of the field in the middle of the 42nd round and everyone fled.
Some accounts however, claim that the authorities showed up as early as the 37th round and let the fight go on. Whatever the true story is, the contest was ultimately declared a draw. Heenan, however, complained that the police had colluded with Sayers’ supporters in breaking up the fight when it became clear the Englishman was beaten.
The Sayers camp claimed Sayers was the fighter headed toward victory. This would go on for weeks. Also, Heenan demanded a rematch but Sayers’ injured arm largely nixed a return bout. Ultimately, both men were awarded duplicate championship belts and they went on a tour of the country.
Heenan eventually returned to the United States three months after the big fight and was given a hero’s welcome.
But even heroes hit lows. His wife divorced him a year later in 1861, after two years together. Heenan bounced back, marrying Sarah Stevens in 1862.
As far as his boxing career, his American heavyweight title was claimed by Joe Coburn in 1862, the first man he had an exhibition against back in 1857, when Heenan failed to defend it against Coburn following a challenge by the Ireland-born pugilist.
Heenan went three years and eight months without fighting anyone, until he made a return trip to England to challenge Tom King, the country’s current heavyweight champion, on December 10, 1863.
Once again, Heenan may have been betrayed by a biased referee. He knocked King out of time in the 18th round, yet the fight continued.
King would get the better of Heenan in the later rounds and when time was called to start the 25th round, one of Heenan’s handlers tossed up a sponge to call it quits, according to The Charleston Mercury, a Confederate Civil War newspaper which gave the fight front page ink. The same report said Heenan should have never been allowed to fight past the 21st round.
Following the loss to King, Heenan never fought again. While a rematch was scheduled for sometime in 1864, it never materialized.
Between 1869 and 1870, Heenan and Jem Mace, a clever fighter known as The Father of Modern Boxing, toured the country putting on exhibitions. The two had a final exhibition, in New York City, on February 11, 1871.
After his fighting career, Heenan became a bookmaker in retirement.
In October 1873, he was found dying from tuberculosis on a train headed to San Francisco. He passed away in Green River Station, Wyoming. His body was transported back to New York for a burial at St. Agnes Cemetery in Albany, NY. He was 38. Interestingly, his greatest rival Sayers also didn’t live past his 30s. Sayers death at 39 was due in large part to untreated diabetes.
By Kirk Lang
Long before Americans would dominate boxing in the 20th Century, England had bragging rights to many of pugilism’s best practitioners. And one of the best was Tom Sayers, a bricklayer who seemed to have bricks in his fists, because he often took on and defeated bigger opponents. Sayers rarely ever weighed more than 150 pounds for a match, and in modern times, that does not even make him a middleweight. He was a junior middleweight and if he ever tipped the scales at 147 pounds or less, that made him a welterweight taking on the big boys.
Sayers was a true national hero and thousands lined the streets for his funeral procession. As many as 10,000 showed up for the burial, destroying tree branches, tombstones and grave railings to say they saw “The Napoleon of the Prize Ring” being put in his final resting place.
Similar to Sugar Ray Leonard, Sayers did not need a ton of fights to secure his legacy. Leonard had only 38 fights before two ill-fated comebacks, yet he proved himself one of the greatest to ever lace up the gloves. Sayers had only 16 bouts. He lost only one of them, and that defeat, it could be said, was the result of facing top competition a bit early, and while sick. Sayers met recognized middleweight champion Nat Langham in October 1853. It was only his fourth pro fight. Sayers did not go down without a fight, however. Sixty-one rounds in, with his eyes swollen shut, he still was not giving in. Fortunately, his handlers did him a favor – health-wise – and threw in the towel. One career victory later, prizefighters in and around his weight class deemed him too dangerous to face in the ring. Forced to take on bigger men, Sayers faced Harry Paulson in January 1856, one of England’s top heavyweights. It was an impressive victory for Sayers, according to various sources, but the fight itself lasted an eternity – 109 rounds to be exact, according to records kept at the time.
After a tough draw and convincing rematch win against Aaron Jones, Sayers took on England’s heavyweight champion, “The Tipton Slasher” Bill Perry. As good a fighter as Sayers was, he went into the fight as the underdog, written off by the so-called experts. It took him only 10 rounds to defeat the champion.
Further victories eventually led to the showdown that would cement Sayers’ place in boxing history, his participation in pugilism’s first international boxing match, or rather, its first world championship fight. Sayers, the English champion, was scheduled to face John Carmel Heenan, the American champion, on April 17, 1860. This match-up was given great press coverage on both sides of the Atlantic and on fight night, Queen Victoria allegedly sat in her palace awaiting the result.
The 6’2”, 195-pound Heenan was willing to travel to England, figuring the odds were in his favor anyway, as Sayers was nearly a decade older, 40 pounds lighter and five inches shorter. The fight took place near the tiny village of Farnborough and commenced around 7:30 a.m. If Sayers already had the disadvantages, he broke a bone in his right arm blocking a punch. Essentially one-handed, he then focused on attacking Heenan’s eyes, according to The Telegraph, and ultimately swelled his right eye shut. In the 37th round, according to one account of the match-up, The Irish American strangled Sayers by pushing his head down over the top rope. The ropes were cut and the crowd invaded the ring, but that did not end matters.
The ring was re-pitched a short distance away and the bare knuckled pugilists continued swapping blows. The bout – which reportedly lasted 2 hours and 27 minutes – came to an end when the police showed up at the edge of the field – in the middle of the 42nd round – and everyone fled. Some accounts however, claim that the authorities showed up as early as the 37th round and let the fight go on. Whatever the true story is, the contest was ultimately declared a draw. Heenan disputed the outcome and demanded a rematch, but that begs the question – if he was truly winning, why did he feel the need to strangle Sayers?
A rematch never came to fruition. Sayers was so beloved, his fans, concerned for his health, raised a substantial amount of money for him to quit the fight game. Following boxing, he endured divorce, as well suffered from tuberculosis and diabetes. There was an attempt to get into the circus business. Sadly, he died on November, 8, 1865, a mere five years after the Heenan fight, at 39 years-old. That same year, the Marquess of Queensbery rules were drafted, which gave way to modern prize-fighting, as it dictated that rounds be three minutes long, fighters have 10 seconds to get to their feet after a knockdown, and mandated the wearing of gloves.
More than 100 years after his death, Sayers’ legacy is secure. One author, Alan E. Wright, paid him the ultimate tribute in 1994, with the publication of a book titled, “Tom Sayers: The Last Great Bare-Knuckle Champion.”
Former heavyweight champion
Story by Kirk Lang
Every champion has a period of time in which they reign at the top of their sport or at least remain relevant. Muhammad Ali was on the world stage for a decade-and-a-half after defeating Sonny Liston for the heavyweight championship. Conversely, Buster Douglas, a one-fight wonder who pulled off the ultimate upset against “Iron” Mike Tyson, suffered a crushing first title defense that sent him into retirement.
Patrick “Paddy” Ryan, a champion in the bare-knuckle days, won’t go down in history as an all-time great, but he at least had a good two years as heavyweight title holder. In the 1880s, there was not the proliferation of titles as there is today. However, one’s championship definition could be altered depending on the newspaper one picked up. Ryan was cited as the heavyweight champion of America by some, while other publications deemed him the heavyweight champion of the world with his May 30, 1880 win over Joe Goss.
Ryan made his own mark in the boxing world, although he is better known as a factoid in the career of the legendary John L. Sullivan. Ryan lost a one-sided nine-round affair to “The Boston Strong Boy” and the Ryan-Sullivan contest marked the last time the bare-knuckle championship – prior to the gloved era – changed hands.
Ryan, born in Thurles, Tipperary, Ireland, emigrated to the United States with his family when he was only two years-old. Settling in the Troy, New York area, one job he had later in life was that of a blacksmith’s helper. This position helped Ryan to develop an impressive physique. Paddy subsequently became the proprietor of a saloon and he often had to use physical force to remove unruly patrons. His removal tactics apparently caught the eye of Jim Killoran, athletic director of the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. Killoran saw a potential boxer in the young man and subsequently became Ryan’s trainer. Paddy turned pro in 1877, three years from when he and Killoran joined forces. And three years later – May 30, 1880 – he became the recognized heavyweight champion after an 87-round battle with Joe Goss that lasted at least 90 minutes, and possibly as long as an hour and twenty-seven minutes.
Both men endured serious punishment. In the 80th round, according to the West Virginia Division of Culture and History, “Goss staggered helplessly from his corner” and was met with a blow “which stretched him out apparently lifeless.” Somehow, Goss rose from the canvas and fought for six more rounds. At the start of the 87th round, however, the battered Goss, sitting on his chair, was unable to come out to the center of the ring and the referee declared Ryan the winner. Ryan was 28 years of age, whereas Goss was 44.
Ryan typically wore green stockings and black trunks decorated with green shamrocks when he fought, as well as a red, white and blue belt. Noted for his bull strength, he could out-muscle opponents. Many bettors thought he could out-muscle Sullivan when agreed to face one another on Feb. 7, 1882. The fighters arrived in New Orleans, Louisiana one day prior to the fight, but the bout was moved to Mississippi City, MS, when local officials got wind of the match.
A 24-foot ring was subsequently erected in an oak grove in front of the Barnes Hotel. Ryan would find out Sullivan was far stronger than he perhaps realized. The New York Daily Tribune, one of the newspapers covering the fight, reported that Ryan exhibited weariness after the opening round, in which Sullivan reportedly drew first blood and also sent the champion to the canvas with a right hand. Ryan would wrestle Sullivan to the ground in the second frame, but he was unable to win the war of fists. The challenger dominated the contest before ultimately stopping Ryan in the 9th round. A large crowd of 5,000 fans turned out to see the coronation of the new heavyweight king Sullivan.
While it was not a lengthy battle – approximately 11 minutes – Ryan’s face was badly disfigured. Meanwhile, Sullivan did not have a mark on his.
“When Sullivan hit me, I thought a telegraph pole had been shoved against me endways,” Ryan said.
Although he was defeated rather easily by Sullivan, the champion granted Ryan two title opportunities afterwards, but this time in gloved contests. Their rematch took place on January 19, 1885 at New York’s original Madison Square Garden. After one round of boxing, the police intervened and the bout was considered a one-round no-contest.
The two gladiators met again the following year on November 13, 1886 at San Francisco’s Mechanic Pavilion. Unfortunately for Ryan, he proved no match for the powerful Sullivan and was brutally KO’d in three rounds.
Ryan and Sullivan would engage in a number of exhibition matches beginning almost a decade later. They had at least seven between 1891 and 1895, and one more in February 1897.
Paddy was inducted into the Bare Knuckle Hall of Fame in 2009.
Ryan died in Green Island, NY on December 14, 1900 from Bright’s Disease at the age of 49.
Former American Heavyweight Bare Knuckle Champion
Story by Kirk Lang
Boxers have often been linked together in history through a series of bouts waged against one another. Such in the case with the six bouts between Sugar Ray Robinson and Jake LaMotta and the three-fight series Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier engaged in. While most would agree LaMotta and Frazier did not possess the natural ability of their more famous foes, they carved their own place in boxing lore with their tenacity and toughness.
The same holds true with Jake Kilrain. However, he did not need repeated encounters to cement his legend. Rather, he secured his place in history with a single fight against a more famous opponent – the great John L. Sullivan. The Sullivan-Kilrain bout was the last bare knuckle heavyweight championship fight fought under London Prize Ring Rules, in which a round ended when a person was knocked down, pushed down or wrestled down. Sullivan was the last heavyweight champion of the bare-knuckle era, and with the advent of the Marquis of Queensbury Rules, he became boxing’s first gloved heavyweight champion. He was also the biggest athletic icon of his time. Yes, not just of boxing, but of sports in America in general. His exploits were covered by the major newspapers long before Babe Ruth came on the scene, and long before Americans would follow pro football, basketball and hockey religiously.
In facing such a star, Kilrain, the son of Irish immigrants, became a celebrity himself. A similar example would be Gerry Cooney. While he never actually became a world champion, there was so much hype and coverage around his challenge of heavyweight champion Larry Holmes, that even in valiant defeat, he remains more popular today, and more recognizable at boxing events, than many men who actually won world titles. Long before his fisticuffs were getting coverage, Kilrain was honing his skills while working in the rolling mills of Somerville, MA. A self-described “gawky country boy” from Long Island, New York, he took on many of his co-workers and at 20 – now 5’10” and weighing around 190 pounds – was proclaimed boxing champion of the mill. Four years later, again proving his athletic prowess, this time in the sport of rowing, he won the National Amateur Junior Sculling Championship in Newark, NJ. However, his achievement was stripped from him when it was revealed he had boxed for pay.
Kilrain, according to reports, turned pro at the age of 19. CyberBoxingZone.com lists an undated pro fight against Pete McCoy and its next recorded pro fight for Kilrain, born Feb. 9, 1859 in Greenpoint, NY, was an 1880 bout against “Dangerous Jack” Hughes, “W-3” in Boston, MA.
Kilrain was allegedly 10-0-3 when he faced Mike Cleary at Madison Square Garden on June 26, 1884, at which time Richard K. Fox, publisher of the National Police Gazette, took notice of him. This was five years before Kilrain would face Sullivan, and three years before Fox awarded Kilrain a belt proclaiming him heavyweight champion. Kilrain had a number of bouts in which police intervened, including a December 1, 1884 clash with Jack Burke in Boston. Police interrupted the opening round, as the action was so intense. Four more rounds, however, were permitted and the bout was recorded as a five-round draw. Some of Jake’s scheduled bouts never took place because police got wind of the fights before the first bell.
Known for his great stamina, Kilrain was recognized as champion by Fox and his newspaper following a 106-round draw with British champion Jem Smith that took place in France. This was part of a plan by Fox to lure Sullivan into a fight with Kilrain. Fox had an issue with Sullivan ever since they were in the same New York City saloon in April 1881. Sullivan refused an invitation from Fox’s sport editor to walk across the bar and sit down with Fox. Sullivan, celebrity that he was, and surrounded by his friends and plenty of drinks, told Fox’s associate that if his boss wanted to see him, then Fox should come to his table. Fox, a proud man himself, never did walk over to Sullivan’s table, and took issue with Sullivan’s perceived slight.
Kilrain and Sullivan could not avoid each other forever as the whole world clamored for the contest. The press helped make it happen and while Sullivan was already fighting with gloves by this time, this match-up would be bare knuckle, the last of its heavyweight kind.
In bare knuckle boxing, rounds ended only when someone was knocked down, thrown down or wrestled to the ground, and fights ended when either combatant could not continue. The bare knuckle contests could also end by crowd riot, police intervention, or if both boxers agreed on a draw. Nobody had to worry that Sullivan and Kilrain would both be on their feet in the end agreeing to a tie. This was definitely one that was going to end with somebody getting stopped.
The highly anticipated fight was banned across the south. Merely attending could lead to an arrest. As such, the fight found a home on a field in Richburg, MS. Charley Rich owned 10,000 acres and in the days before the fight, a makeshift ring was set up and pinewood bleachers were erected. Somebody should have planned better. The battle took place in a hot state, on a hot month (July) and outside with no tarp or anything to shield the sun’s rays. Kilrain and Sullivan proved their toughness in not only enduring one another, but also the less than ideal fight conditions. Roughly three-thousand spectators made their way to the bout, boarding trains in New Orleans, with tickets that did not list a site location. Not only was it the last bare knuckle heavyweight championship of its time, it also has a place in history for being the first world title fight ever photographed. Images of the bout and its surroundings show a crowd of all men, nearly all of them bedecked with gentlemanly hats on. They look dressed more for a child’s high school graduation than a bare knuckle bloodbath. Some of the paying spectators at ringside are leaning into the ring a little with arms over the ropes, something that would never be allowed today. Even though the fight began sometime between 10 a.m. – 11 a.m. – the actual start time differs depending on the source – it was still too hot. The temperature was as high as 104 degrees, even perhaps 106 degrees. Both men would be sunburned by the time it was over.
Kilrain got off to a good start, grabbing Sullivan around the neck and throwing him down 15 seconds into the first round. Later, in either the fifth or sixth round, Kilrain struck Sullivan’s ear and drew blood. Referee John Fitzpatrick called out “First blood – Kilrain,” and as a result, money exchanged hands in the stands between the betting public. The action subsequently turned in Sullivan’s favor, as John L. made a point to box and wrestle less. As he boxed and moved, Sullivan also landed heavy blows, so much so that at the end of the 7th round, Kilrain had to be helped back to his corner.
Both fighters wore shoes with cleats and at some point during the fight, blood was seen seeping out of Sullivan’s shoes. As the bout progressed, Kilrain had his fair share of battle injuries. In the 35th round, he had a broken nose, split lips and an eye that was swollen shut. Reports from various sources note that both men consumed alcohol during the bout. Sullivan reportedly vomited in the 44th round, which prompted Kilrain to ask the “Boston Strong Boy” if he wanted to continue. This lit a fire in Sullivan, and he dominated the later rounds. As the fight went on, Jake was near exhaustion, but there was no quit in him. However, his handlers, believing he was literally going to die, threw in the proverbial towel – in this case it was a sponge – at the end of the 75th round. The fight had lasted two hours and 16 minutes!
In the following year, Kilrain would venture to Belfast, New York and train with champion wrestler William Muldoon at Mudoon’s Barn (the site of the current Bare Knuckle Hall of Fame) to face the upcoming heavyweight prospect James J. Corbett. Amazingly, Muldoon’s barn training quarters was the same place that John L. Sullivan had trained in his famous fight against Kilrain. William Muldoon had a willing pupil in Kilrain, who trained diligently for the Corbett match.
Unfortunately, for Kilrain, the Sullivan fight had taken a lot out of him as he entered the ring an old 31 years of age, against the undefeated and clever future heavyweight king Corbett, who was only 23, at the Southern Athletic Club in New Orleans, LA, on February 18, 1890.
Kilrain put up a good fight, but was no match for the fleet-footed and swift punching Corbett and lost a 6-round decision.
Sullivan would not fight again for another three years until he was dethroned by James J. Corbett when he was KO’d in the 21st round at the Olympic Club in New Orleans, LA, on September 17, 1892.
Jake had a dozen or more bouts, the most significant of them a 44th round knockout of Boston’s heavyweight contender George Godfrey at the California Athletic Center in San Francisco, CA, on March 13, 1891.
Kilrain’s last fight was a 5th-round TKO loss at the hands of Steve O’Donnell at the Germania Maennerchor Hall in Baltimore, Maryland on October 20, 1899. Jake was 40 and O’Donnell was 33.
Jake retired from the ring following In his post-boxing life, he married, had children and was a proprietor of a saloon in Baltimore, MD. When his saloon burned down, he moved back to Somerville, MA and got a job with the Parks Department. When he lost that job due to government cutbacks during the Great Depression, he found work as a night watchman at a shipyard in Quincy, MA.
He and Sullivan became good friends in their later years. They engaged in four friendly exhibition bouts in April 1909 in Phoenix, AZ and toured throughout the country in a Vaudeville sparring act.
Although Kilrain was stopped in his bout with Sullivan, John L. was the first to go down for the count for Eternity when he died in 1918, Kilrain served as one of his pallbearers. Kilrain died at a private hospital in Quincy, MA, on Dec. 22, 1937 at the age of 78.
The great old pugilist Kilrain was inducted into the Bare Knuckle Boxing Hall of Fame in 2009 and the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 2012.
James “Deaf” Burke
Story by John and Alex Rinaldi
Born in poverty on December 8, 1809 in St. Giles, London, James Burke suffered from severe hearing loss in infancy. Orphaned as young boy, Burke spent his childhood in the workhouses.
With no schooling, Burke earned money as a waterman, a river worker who transferred passengers across and along the Thames River. While still a teenager, James learned to box by an old fighter, who also worked along the river.
Burke was a strapping young lad standing a gigantic 6 feet 2 inches tall and weighing around 200 pounds. He towered over most of the men of the day.
In 1828, Burke had his first fight against veteran Ned Murphy. In a grueling, give-and-take affair, the two bare knuckle gladiators battled for 50 rounds before the contest was declared a draw because of the darkness that enveloped the roped square.
Burke, who was nicknamed “Deaf” and also referred to “The Deaf-un,” was a fearless fighter who could fight for hours without breaking down. Before he fought for the title, Burke engaged in a three-hour win over Bill Fitzmaurice and defeated Bill Cousens in a match that lasted two hours and fifty minutes.
The fearless Burke wanted to challenge the legendary champion Jem Ward, however, the champ refused to take on the dangerous challenger and instead chose to retire from the prize ring.
With Ward in retirement, Burke was matched with Harry Macone in 1833. In another marathon affair, “Deaf” knocked out Macone in the 59th round to capture the British heavyweight championship.
In his next bout on May 30, 1833, Burke defended his title against the bigger Simon Byrne, who was the Irish Champion. It was a brutal contest all the way as Burke was dropped after Byrne took a bite from his left ear. The bout lasted for three hours and six minutes until Byrne was unable to rise from the floor after taking an awful thrashing in the 99th round. Tragically, Simon died three later from a severe concussion that probably caused swelling on the brain. Burke was arrested for murder, but on July 11, 1883, the champion was acquitted and freed from prison.
Burke spent the next few years mainly giving exhibitions since very few men were willing to take him on in a prize fight. James then became the first English champion to visit the United States and defend his laurels.
On May 6, 1837 in New Orleans, LA, Burke was matched against the new Irish Champion Sam O’Rourke. Burke severely pulverized O’Rourke over the first two rounds before a pro-O’Rourke audience. Round one ended when Burke threw his opponent to the ground with a cross-buttock hold. Round two saw one of O’Rourke’s seconds help throw Burke to the floor. In round three as Burke was pounding the Irishman to a bloody pulp, O’Rourke’s fans caused a riot and brought a halt to the bout. The blood-thirsty mob then went after Burke, who barely escaped on horseback into the nearby woods.
Burke ventured back to England and defended his title for the first time under the new London Prize Rules against William “Bendigo” Thompson on February 12, 1839. The challenger put up a tough battle and proved to be younger, faster and stronger than the champion. A raucous crowd of 15,000 turned out at No Mans Heath in Leicestershire. In the tenth round, Burke dropped Thompson to the ground. While he was trying to make his way to his feet, “Bendigo” was headbutted by Burke, who was subsequently disqualified on a foul.
With the victory, Thompson won the title and the purse of £220. When he got home to a ceremony at the Queens Theatre in Liverpool, the new champon was presented with his Championship Belt. In his excitment, “Bendigo” somersaulted into the crowd and wound up breaking his kneecap, which took him away from the ring for over two years, causing him to retire in between.
Since Thompson was out of action, Burke claimed back the championship and defended his title against Jem Ward’s younger brother Nick. “Deaf” was giving Ward a terrible beating when Ward’s gang forced the referee to disqualify the champion for an alleged foul.
Burke never received another title shot and in his final bout, he KO’d Bob Castles in the 37th round on June 13, 1843.
“Deaf” retired with a record of 15-2 and spent the remaining few years of his life giving boxing lessons.
Less than two years later and penniless, Burke succumbed to tuberculosis on January 8, 1845 in his home in France Street in Waterloo, London.
The great champion is buried at St. John’s Church Yard in Waterloo.
Burke was elected into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1992.