Yours Truly, John L. Sullivan | AMERICAN HERITAGE [PDF]

Always on the level, yours truly, John L. Sullivan,” growled John L., who liked to write his signature in the air this

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Idea Transcript


Help us save American Heritage!

Please consider making a donation (https://www.ahsociety.org/civicrm/contribute/transact? reset=1&id=1) to re-launch the magazine, and read information about our plan to save the magazine (https://www.ahsociety.org/content/plan-save-american-heritage). Taking on all comers, he had always dropped his man—but his supreme moment came in bare-knuckle boxing’s last great fight

The beginnings of bareknuckle boxing in this country are hazy. In all likelihood it arrived by way of the sons of prominent southern families who customarily visited the mother country in the early eighteenth century as part of their education.

No prize fighter ever enjoyed his trade more. After winning the title, Sullivan went on an unprecedented barnstorming tour across the country, taking on all comers and offering $1,000 to anyone who stayed four rounds, Oueensberry rules. No fighter had ever done anything like this before, and John L.’s popularity rose to new heights. He fought everywhere—in theaters, dance halls, and armories, and he fought the toughest— lumberjacks, blacksmiths, local bully-boys, and professional ringmen. Few stayed more than a round. In his first season he flattened 59 men. Tug Wilson, an experienced British heavyweight backed by Fox, was the only man able to stay four rounds, and he had to resort to shameless holding, clinching, and continuous slipping to the door to avoid being hit. No count was kept of the cities John L. visited on his various tours or of the number of battles he fought, but it has been estimated that he knocked out about 200 men. Night after night, drunk or sober—and often he was so drunk that his handlers had to help him into his tights and push him on stage—the Strong Boy never failed to drop his man. The wonder is that he never killed anyone, for he had such a terrific wallop that the head or shoulders of his victim sometimes hit the canvas before the buttocks.

The signing took place on New Year’s Day, 1889, and before the ink was dry John L. was drinking again and predicting that he would win easily. Throughout the winter and early spring Sullivan went right on imbibing freely and by May, with the fight less than two months away, had blown up to a flabby 240 pounds. By this time his frantic backers, who were prepared to use a gun on him if need be to get him sober, tracked him down and forced him to go into training. They put him in the hands of William MuIdoon, the wrestling champion and a fanatic on physical training. He got John L. down to 205 pounds when the time came to go south.

The fight wore on, Sullivan always pressing forward, Kilrain moving away. Muldoon was afraid that his man’s legs and wind might give out if he continued to pursue Kilrain. “How do you feel? How long can you stay?” he asked John L. after the twelfth. “Till tomorrow morning if it’s necessary,” was the answer.

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