Joe Gans

by Colleen Aycock

  Gans’ experience in the battle royal melees would serve him quite well in the ring wars that were to be his calling in the decades before and after 1900. Certain fundamentals of boxing would have been of paramount importance to a blindfolded battler in a battle royal. Keeping the hands up, chin down, and elbows in would have been a lesson quickly learned, lest one be knocked out in short order. Developing a keen sense of balance and spatial perception would have been vital to compensate for the blindfolded eyes. All of these attributes would become trademarks of the Old Master.

  The boxing term “ring generalship” seems to have been invented with Gans in mind. In all his fights, he was lord of the ring, whether near the ropes or in ring center. His uncanny ability to dodge punches, sometimes by fractions of an inch and with a minimum of effort, allowed him to fight 10 rounds, 20 rounds, up to 42 rounds without showing signs of fatigue. The seeds of his greatness were reported in the Baltimore paper under the name “Gans” (given him by the press) and also noted by the keen eye of a Baltimore bookmaker and restaurateur by the name of Abraham Lincoln Herford, who sported the name Al.

  Herford looked and sounded the quintessential circus impresario, replete with derby hat tilted atop a chubby face and a confident clever tongue. In an era of fraud and shady characters boasting of Tammany Hall, faked pretexts for war, and shameless corporate greed, no character had a shadier reputation than Al Herford. At the time when private social clubs were being formed to skirt public laws of prohibition, the bookmaker chartered the Eureka Athletic and Social Club, serving as president and treasurer and installing his brother as secretary, to promote lucrative boxing matches, all under his design and control.11

  Herford’s carnival-like boxing matches were crowd pleasers. His inventiveness carried over into the battle royal. In an essay about the infamous promoter originally published in The New Yorker, noted literary critic and Gans contemporary in Baltimore H. L. Mencken said sardonically, “(Al Herford) did not invent the battle royal, but I believe it is only just to say that he greatly developed it. One of his contributions was the scheme of dividing the four boys into three very small ones and one very tall one: this favored a brisk entertainment, for the dwarfs always ganged up on the giant and knocked him out, usually by blows behind the ear. Another of Al’s improvements was the device of dressing the colored boys who fought in battles-royal, not in ordinary trunks, but in the billowy white drawers that women then wore. The blacker the boy, the more striking the effect.”12

  Herford wasn’t the only club or theater owner to become inventive when it came to the battle royal. Black individuals were also used for degrading post-fight entertainment at the Monumental Theater. One event was the “barrel fight,” described in the sporting pages of the Baltimore Sun on March 26, 1895. A barrel fight took place following a ten round sparring exhibition between Jack Daly Moriarity and Abe Ullman at the Monumental Amphitheater. “Four colored men fought in a big hogshead. The contestants were: George and Buck Washington, Joseph Washington and Buck Myers.” At the end of four rounds, Buck Myers was declared the winner, Joe second, George third and Buck Washington the loser. Barrel fights occurred with regularity, but by far the more common entertainment was the battle royal. Oddly enough, Buck Washington’s name would appear as a mainstay of the boxing scene in accounts of regional bouts for the next few years.13

  While Gans had fought only a handful of individual bouts, he displayed such a knack for footwork and punching ability that Herford, watching in the audience at the Monumental Theater at one of Gans’ early preliminary bouts, decided to make a real, professional fighter of him. When Herford approached Gans with the offer to become his manager, Gans modestly told Herford that he would be taking a big risk. The latter replied, “That’s my funeral, not yours.”14 Herford held the purse strings for Gans for years to come, splitting both Gans’ earnings and his own gambling debts, and demanding that Gans fight according to his instruction. Gans would be faithful to the gambler who had given him his start.

  Herford ran a lucrative athletic club with the help of his stars, one of which he was proud to call himself. He relished the job of ring announcer and enjoyed introducing each new protégé, which he pronounced “pro-teege.”15 He was one of the first ring managers to realize the promotional advantage of naming boxers after known celebrities. He particularly liked to describe his boxers as “Young.” One of his better fighters who frequently boxed on the under-card to Gans’ main events and served as his corner man was the Young Peter Jackson, named after the heavyweight Peter Jackson from the West Indies. By 1900 fighters entertained with names such as “Young Corbett” or “Black Griffo.” (The practice of taking the name of a ring great became extremely popular during Gans’ reign and following his death, and his name was one of the most frequently adopted noms du ring.)16 In one preliminary fight during his heyday, Herford brought out “Young Terry McGovern” of San Francisco and “Young Joe Gans of Australia.” As Mencken liked to joke, local Baltimore fight fans clearly knew they were water boys from the Pimlico horse track. But the attitude was all a part of Herford’s brazen, theatrical style.

  In describing his ring management, H. L. Mencken noted how Herford shaped the rules to suit the interest of showmanship. “When two boys sailed into each other with unusual vehemence and the members began to howl, he would signal Ernie Gephart to let the rounds run on, and whenever, on the contrary, a bout was tame, he would cut them short. Once I saw a set-to between two ferocious colored youths, Young Corbett, of Yarmouth, England, and the Zulu Whirlwind, of Cape Town, South Africa, in which the average length of the five rounds, by actual timing, was twelve and a half minutes, and another time I saw Ernie put through a flabby six-round bout in ten minutes flat.”17

  The newspapers circa 1900 were nearly unchallenged in the formation of public opinion. And thus one can trace the trajectory of Gans’ transformation from his early performances, when the papers used the casual racial epithets of the day, “the dusky one,” “the colored boy,” even “the coon,” to his regal performances where he drew accolades as the “Old Master.” Even early on, Gans became recognized more for his brains than his brawn.

  This is perhaps the earliest boxing photograph of young Joe Gans (right) and his sparring partner, “Young” Peter Jackson in Baltimore prior to the 1900s. Gans demonstrates a right hook. Jackson fought lightweights, middleweights, and heavyweights. During his illustrious career he fought Joe Walcott, Sam Langford, Philadelphia Jack O’Brien, Jack Johnson, and Gunboat Smith. Jackson remained Gans’ loyal chief second in many fights throughout his career.

  Boxing is a demonstration of physical and mental excellence and boxing matches are a determination of superiority. With the coming of marquis heavyweights John L. Sullivan and “Gentleman Jim” Corbett, pugilism became a chance for ambitious young men to choose a life other than crime or menial labor. But in Jim Crow America, Gans would struggle to get to the top of his profession, so fearful was the country of naming a black champion. It is a testament to his greatness that Gans could rise from the chaos of the ring of battle royals and overcome the racist obstacles set before him to garner a shot at one of the most famous world titles of his time. It is also an unfortunate testament to Ralph Ellison’s theme of invisibility that today Gans languishes as an invisible man in the memory of popular sport, his accomplishments forgotten. But during his era, the boxer from Baltimore would succeed in becoming the most visible man of his time. With Joe Gans, the African American people would see the rise of a superstar.

  3

  Boxing in 1900 Baltimore

  By 1850, Baltimore was the second-largest city in the United States behind New York, second only to Ellis Island as an immigration site.1 A center of culture, finance, and industry, Baltimore straddled the political line between the North and the South. While Maryland was considered a “slave state,” Baltimore had in its numbers as many “free” working African Americans as it had slaves in servitude. It had the financial strength of a northern
industrial city forged from its marine economy. By the turn of the century it would be known in fistiana as the home of Joe Gans.

  That the harbor was at one time the venerated domicile of pirates and privateers gave its citizenry an indomitable spirit of defi. Fells Point, the rowdy seaport town which met the harbor on the east, dated back to 1730. Along with nearby Jonestown, Fells Point was incorporated into Baltimore City in 1773. The famous Fells shipyard at the end of Washington and Aliceanna streets gave birth to the Baltimore clipper ships, notoriously agile and swift. Whereas merchant ships typically averaged 5 knots, the clippers could reach up to 20 or 22 knots. They were the fastest sailing ships on water; their remarkable speed was often posted in the news. Flying like the wind over foreign seas, the sleek, narrow-bodied, top-sailed schooners transported valuable commodities of trade: tea, coffee, silk and people. They earned an unmatched reputation during the Revolutionary War, with sporty names such as the Wasp, the Scorpion, and the Hornet, helping to win the young country’s independence. Ships such as these, with their stalwart sailors, captured over 500 British ships during the war.

  During the second war with Britain, the War of 1812, Baltimore with its commanding production of ships fell once again into the crosshairs of the British Navy. In 1814, the American captain of the Chasseur sailed alone to England planning to blockade the British Isles, an implausible threat but one taken seriously by the British. The infamous vessel was hunted by warships without success, and was one of the reasons Britain wanted to take Baltimore by land and by sea, to stamp out the pesky clippers which guarded Washington from a home port in the largest, deep-water American harbor south of New York. The heroic schooner returned home undefeated and was dubbed in the news as “The Pride of Baltimore.”

  In that same Chesapeake harbor after the British had taken Washington, D.C., in 1814, a young lawyer and poet came aboard a prison ship to negotiate the release of his friend, an elderly physician. There, lawyer Francis Scott Key penned the “Star Spangled Banner” during the decisive naval battle that would keep the American republic free of the British yoke. As he looked to Fort McHenry through the cannons’ red glare, Key captured the spirit of American freedom. Unfortunately, this freedom was still denied to many people of color in Baltimore.

  After America’s wars with England, the clipper ships were no longer needed as sentinels and they were converted for use in the slave trade. By 1835 there were at least a dozen recorded slave markets, or “slave pens” as they were called, within Baltimore City. Stanton Tierman of The Baltimore Sun reports that during 1838 one of the larger traders, Hope Slatter, of Clinton, Georgia, ran as many as 27 ads in The Sun.2 One of these read, “Having a wish to accommodate my Southern friends and others in the trade, I am determined to pay the highest prices with good and sufficient titles. Persons having such property to dispose of would do well to see me before they sell, as I am always purchasing for the New Orleans market.” Another announced his new building for the auction and keeping of slaves (he would charge 25 cents a day for the temporary housing of others’ slaves). “The subscriber has built a large and extensive establishment and private jail for the keeping of slaves. This new building located on Pratt Street ... is not surpassed by any establishment of the kind in the United States. All rooms above ground. Office in basement story.” An office in the basement would prevent a person from digging a tunnel to freedom. Baltimore was the last major stop for many attempting to slip through the clutches of bondage, and the most famous person to do so in 1838 was Frederick Douglass.

  Douglass had dreamed of freedom, and Baltimore was his hope for escape. There it would be difficult to distinguish between slave and free man. Few questioned the workers on the waterfront, since indentured immigrants of many races and nationalities worked to repay their passage to America. Young Douglass was given on loan from one slave master in southern Maryland to another residing at Aliceanna Street at Fells Point first at the age of 9, and a second time when he was 16. After experiencing the rural plantation life, Baltimore City was “like living in Paradise.”3 Daily he was sent to assist shipbuilders, learning a trade that would earn income for the master who housed him. Douglass eventually became a ship caulker, and in 1838 while dressed as a working sailor, he was able to escape north to freedom.

  The slave pens of Baltimore operated as part of the status quo for the next twenty-five years. On July 24, 1863, Colonel Birney, along with Sergeant Southworth, upon military orders, released the women and children held in these Baltimore jails and conscripted the men into the Union forces to fight in the Civil War.

  As fate would have it, the southern plantation owners of America would be responsible for re-invigorating boxing when it was in decline in Victorian England. Boxing matches were popular activities among plantation owners who were accustomed to the idea of strong, black fighting champions; they had staged contests for years with their slaves, pitting them against slaves from other plantations. As Armond Fields states in his biography of James Corbett, “What better way to promote friendly rivalries and wagering between plantation owners than to have the strongest of their slaves battle for supremacy.”4

  The first recorded account of American pugilism dates back to Philadelphia in 1788. “Zachary Thomas Molineaux, who fought for the colonists in the recent strife with England, was hauled before our Magistrate last Friday to answer a charge of assault, brought against him by Silas Freeman. Molineaux, whose record of loyalty served him well at the hearing, was admonished and dismissed after an apology. He is known in Virginia as a Negro whose maulings have downed many opponents. The warlike hero, the conquering pugilist of America and who retired undefeated, was a member of a family that was distinguished for pugilistic excellence. He promised never again to commit an assault. He has four sons.”5

  One of these sons would be responsible for bringing boxing as a popular sport to America. Boxing came to the attention of Americans in the young country when “the Virginia Slave” Tom Molineaux issued a stout challenge to the British heavyweight champion Tom Crib. In 1810, Maryland born Molineaux was freed by his master after winning a boxing match upon which his master won a large sum of money. Molineaux set his sights on England and the heavyweight championship of the world, professing himself the American champion. But as early boxing historian Nat Fleischer notes, “How to get abroad was the problem. He hired out on a vessel that sailed the Chesapeake Bay. When he got to Baltimore, he skipped and started to trek the roads in the hopes of reaching a place where he could embark for England. He didn’t get very far. He found tramping too difficult and hired himself out as a stevedore on the Baltimore docks where he kept a close watch on the outgoing vessels.”6 By way of the Monumental City, Molineaux finally made it to England, where his fast-growing fame was soon heralded all the way back to America. Molineaux fought twice for the world title in Britain but was defeated. It remained for another black fighter to earn championship laurels.

  In the decade following the Civil War, the decade when Gans was born, the steamship replaced clipper ships such as the “Pride of Baltimore.” The two wharfs at Fells Point, Brown’s Warf at the end of Broadway and Bell’s Warf at the end of Fells Street, were too small to accommodate the larger vessels. The steamships moved to Locust Point nearby and Fells Point was left to accommodate local watermen supplying the fish markets and the remaining clipper ships that now transported mainly coffee. How befitting it is that an African American hero for the ages would grow up in that same Baltimore town where Francis Scott Key put the fire of freedom into the hearts of generations of Americans to come. And, from a fight quite different from a naval battle, Joe Gans would emerge as the new “Pride of Baltimore.”

  Born November 25, 1874, in Baltimore, Joe Gans was named after his father, baseball player Joseph Saifuss Butts.7 At the age of four, his father gave him to a foster mother to raise, Maria (Jackson) Gant, a laundress living in the gritty section of Baltimore. Young Gans witnessed the hard work of his caring foster mother. Washing the h
ousehold linens and clothes was so stressful in that era (where a batch could take up to two days to clean) that sending laundry out to a washerwoman was one of the few luxuries even the working poor afforded themselves. Laundry had to soak, usually overnight, before it was boiled and rinsed, all of which could use “about 50 gallons of water, which weighed 400 pounds, and had to be lugged from somewhere,” usually a city hydrant.8 After the washing came the starch dips and the laborious, heavy ironing.

  While African Americans were free to earn their own living during the years after Reconstruction, they were relegated to low-paying jobs in the service sector, whether as “washerwomen,” “watermen” or as laborers in the tobacco, sanitation, domestic, or transportation industries. But what the young Gans experienced in Jonestown next door to the Fells Point harbor was the lively interaction of races and nationalities, the seeds of enterprise from a working class, the convivial brawls among the waterfront workers, and the brewing winds of political and social progress about to sweep the country from the pulpits of Baltimore. He could attend a church where the pastor was no longer required to be white. And, for the first time, black Americans could be buried with dignity in a city cemetery instead of under the streets and alleyways.

  The historic area later incorporated by Baltimore City where Gans spent his early life was named after the Quaker William Fells of Lancaster, England, who gave the streets English names such as Thames and Shakespeare. Many of the privateers who sailed from Fells Point during the heyday of the clipper ships came back to the waterfront neighborhood to live. Wealthy sea captains and industrial merchants built magnificent multi-storied, brick homes. Clerks rented the brick row-houses with courtyards in the back, and laborers rented smaller homes and residencies in the unpaved alleyways. When mosquitoes plagued the city with malaria and yellow fever in the early eighteen hundreds, wealthy residents abandoned Fells Point for higher ground, leaving a community of working middle class and poor with the unsavory reputation as the Baltimore toughs of “Mobtown.”9