JOE FRAZIER -vs- JERRY QUARRY I (Complete Fight) Madison Square Garden, New York June 23, 1969
This
Collector’s Cut features the complete fight between Heavyweight
Champion Joe Frazier and challenger Jerry Quarry. This, the first of
their two fights, which took place at Madison Square Garden, New
York, on June 23, 1969, and was later recognized as the Ring Magazine
Fight of the Year. Parts of the original ABC-TV broadcast were lost
by the network. This was not unusual at the time. Video tapes,
expensive at the time, were often recycled for later broadcasts. Some
shows were archived and have since been preserved, but other
programs, perceived as less important, were discarded.
However,
ABC-TV was not alone in filming the fight. The venue, Madison Square
Garden, routinely shot films of major fights from a single in-house
camera. The events were captured from just one angle, but the
perspective and the quality were often very good. There was also a
documentary film crew on hand. The filmmakers used multiple cameras
to capture the fight, including ringside action and footage of the
fighters and corner men between rounds. A more complete copy of the
ABC broadcast came into circulation some years ago. The source of the
tape is somewhat mysterious, as VHS or BETA recorders were not
available until the 1970s. In any case, the recording is of marginal
quality but still very watchable.
Accessing all the available
footage, I re-cut and reassembled the entire event, along with bonus
material. Enjoy this classic fight.
Saturday, May 18, 2024
Anatomy of a Fight
Jack Dempsey -vs- Luis Angel Firpo The Polo Grounds, New York City September 14, 1923
Anatomy of a Fight - Jack
Dempsey -vs- Luis Angel Firpo, takes a deep dive into one of the
most famous fights, and fight films, in boxing history, the epic 1923
match between Heavyweight Champion Jack Dempsey and his challenger,
Luis Firpo of Argentina.
The Dempsey-Firpo fight was
photographed by a film crew hired by the fight promoters. The
finished movie had a very limited distribution in the US, due to
restrictive federal laws, but it was seen by audiences
internationally. In the months and years after the fight, as with
many early motion pictures, theatrical prints were lost or discarded
or fell into private hands.
Years later, the surviving
footage of this fight was pieced together into the a newsreel style
documentary which has been in circulation since the 1940s. I have
several print editions of the Dempsey-Firpo film and have assembled
as complete a version as I have of the fight. With the aid of high
definition scans, we can examine footage in fresh detail. I thought
a closer look at the film might address a few questions about this
controversial match.
Jack Dempsey, The Manassa
Mauler, emerged as a knockout artist and leading contender in
1918 with 15 wins. Dempsey at 6’1” and 187-pounds, challenged
and knocked out the 6’6.5” 245-pound champion Jess Willard in
Toledo, July 1919. From 1920 to 1923 Dempsey made four successful
title defenses. The first was Billy Miske, KOd in three, July 1920.
Bill Brenan stopped in 12 the following December, Georges Carpentier
finished in 4 rounds in boxing’s first million dollar gate, New
Jersey, July 1921. Only Tommy Gibbons went the distance, on July 4,
1923, losing to Dempsey in 15 rounds.
Firpo would be next.
Luis
Angel Firpo was the first boxer from Latin American to fight for the
heavyweight title. Firpo was nicknamed The
Wild Bull of the Pampas
for his strength, punching power and relentless aggressive style.
Arriving in the United States in 1922, the 6’2” 216-pound
heavyweight fought his way up the ranks. Within a year Firpo had won
twelve fights with eleven by knockout - including knockouts of Bill
Brenan in March 1923 and stopping former champion Jess Willard in
eight rounds the following July.
The showdown between Jack
Dempsey and Luis Firpo was finally set. The bout was held at The
Polo Grounds in New York City, on September 14, 1923 in front of
85,000 spectators.
At the bell Dempsey takes the
fight to Firpo and runs directly into the challenger’s best punch,
an overhand right that drops Dempsey to his knees. This fact has
been established, but not often seen, due to an edit in the film. As
Dempsey is falling, there’s a jump cut, and the action picks up a
moment later with the fighters in a clinch.
This is the first of well over a
dozen jump cuts I found in the footage, some creating noticeable gaps
in the action. While some of these breaks cuts appear random, others
appear intentional edits where the impact of punches have been
removed.
The fight continues. Firpo is
knocked down, gets up and is knocked down several times. The age of
the film and lack of clarity makes it difficult to gauge every punch,
particularly the impact of each. As powerful as he was, Firpo was an
awkward, and at times clumsy fighter. His lack of experience put him
at a disadvantage against a seasoned boxer like Dempsey. Yet, Firpo
rises each time and throws himself back into the action with
remarkable determination.
Despite having been off his feet
five times, Firpo had the strength and drive to knock Dempsey down a
second time, this time with Jack landing briefly on all fours.
Twice more Firpo goes down. Once
from a right hand and partial slip, and another from an uppercut.
Dempsey stands in the corner, just a few feet away, waiting for Firpo
to stand. According to the New York Times, the neutral corner rule
was in effect. Firpo was quote as, “surprised when Dempsey stood
directly over me when I was down.” But the State Athletic
Commission “took no action” regarding referee Johnny Gallagher
failure to enforce it on either Dempsey or Firpo.
Suddenly, Firpo finds his
footing. He drives Dempsey back to the ropes. He clubs and mauls as
Dempsey attempts to fend him off. Firpo holds Dempsey’s chin with
his left and follows through with a sweeping right that begins as a
punch . . . but ends as a shove. Dempsey falls back between the top
and middle strand, which acts like a giant rubber band, flipping
Dempsey’s legs up and briefly over his head. Dempsey’s rear end
bounces over the edge of the platform and allegedly on to the
typewriter of New York Tribune writer Jack Lawrence. In less than a
second, the film shows Dempsey lifting himself upright.
At this moment there’s another
cut in the film. The sequence goes from a medium to a long shot.
There’s long been a debate about how much time Dempsey was out of
the ring. Witnesses testimony ranged from four to fourteen seconds
until Dempsey climbed black inside the ropes.
The film and cut are keys to
determine the timeline. I zoomed in the long shot to compare with
the first camera view. There’s a very slight difference in the two
camera angles, but when comparing the positions of the referee,
Firpo, and the ringsiders, the cut is a match.
It turns out, there’s no time
gap between shots. The timeline is unbroken. Dempsey is seen
quickly scrambling back into the ring. He even had the presence of
mind to hold down the bottom strand while climbing back to his feet
as the referee counts four.
The entire knockdown sequence
lasted less than five seconds.
As Dempsey gets to his feet, it’s
now Firpo who stands close by. Launching another attack, Firpo
drives Dempsey back to the ropes, not once, but three more times.
Dempsey holds, parries and evades enough to survive. Finally
breaking lose, Dempsey turns Firpo around and slams home a counter
right to Firpo’s jaw. Firpo is hurt and his momentum is broken.
The challenger covers up in the final seconds of the round.
At the bell, the film cuts back
to the long shot. Dempsey tags Firpo with a left as they separate,
but the referee intervenes. Firpo stumbles to his corner, while
Dempsey strolls across the ring with his head down. Dempsey later
said, after Firpo knocked him down, “I saw eight million stars”
and claimed to be blacked out through much of the fight.
In the second round, Dempsey
lands a series of left hooks. The two wrestle in a clinch and Firpo
stumbles to the canvas, clearly not a knockdown, but the referee
counts anyway as Dempsey walk to the corner. Firpo gets up and
misses a long right. With Dempsey’s back to the camera there’s a
mix of grappling and swings on the inside. Firpo drops for the last
time and is counted out. As Dempsey and handlers lift Firpo to his
feet, the challenger looks over a Dempsey, perhaps unsure if the
fight is actually over.
As Dempsey’s arm is raised, he
has an expression of relief and exhaustion. The champion takes a
moment, then walks over to pay respect to his vanquished challenger.
Controversy swelled immediately
following the fight and continues to this day.
Many protested that the referee
did not enforce the neutral corner rule. Others contended that Firpo
shoved, rather than punched Dempsey out of the ring.
And, Firpo may have escaped being
counted out early in the first round. That, according to the United
Press Sports Editor Henry L. Farrell, who wrote that 10 seconds had
elapsed after the fourth knockdown, but the timekeeper hesitated, and
the referee lost track of the count, tolling nine rather than ten.
And finally, it’s unclear from
the film how much meaningful help Dempsey received from ring siders.
Dempsey was never completely off the ring apron. His descent was
likely halted by the typewriter table and at least the face and hands
of one journalist. But being in the path of a collision is not an
act of assistance. The ring siders were, according to author Frank
G. Menke, just trying to, “keep Dempsey from
breaking their necks”. The question is over a technicality. The
film suggests, that it was Dempsey who, in less than five seconds,
did most of the work to get himself back up into the ring.
In
the end, this epic match, played out through all its excitement and
drama just as it was meant to. As with many great sports events, it
was a roller-coaster ride of thrilling mayhem, of missed
opportunities, of rules cast aside, of raw athleticism where luck had
no favorites, where no human was really in control, and when time
itself seemed to go off the grid. And yet somehow, in the end, the
fight brought itself to a justified and thrilling conclusion.
Decades
later, in 1951, the Associated Press sports writers voted the
Dempsey Firpo fight as the “most dramatic sports event” of the
first half of the 20th Century. (http://www.perno.com/lists/MDM.html)
Friday, May 3, 2024
Ed "Gunboat" Smith
Profile and Rare Colorized Sparring Footage with Bob Armstrong 1914
Edward
"Gunboat" Smith was an Irish American boxer, a film actor
and a
boxing
referee who fought professionally from 1909 to 1921. During his
career, The Gunner fought twelve different Boxing Hall of Famers,
regardless
of race, including
work as a sparring partner for champion Jack Johnson. Among the
all-time greats he fought were Jack Dempsey, Harry Greb, and Georges
Carpentier. Smith’s most notable victories were wins by decision
over the great Sam Langford, and against future Heavyweight Champion
Jess Willard. Both fights in 1913.
In
1914, at the peak of his career, Smith traveled to England to fight
the European champion Georges Carpentier. The fight took place in
front of 10,000 spectators at the Olympia in London. Unfortunately,
the fight ended in controversy. In the sixth round, Carpentier
stumbled or was knocked down. Smith followed through with a punch
while Georges still on the canvas. Though the punch was
unintentional, the referee stopped the fight anyway and, despite
protests, Smith was disqualified.
Smith
retired in 1921. He went on to appear as an actor in movies through
the 1920s and 30s. Later, he became a ring official, as seen here
refereeing the 1931 fight between Jack Sharkey and Primo Carnera.
Smith died in 1974.
Tuesday, November 8, 2022
Max Baer vs Primo Carnera, New York 1934
35mm HD Nitrate Theatrical Print Scan
Max
Baer KOs Primo Carnera in 11 rounds at Madison Square Garden Bowl,
New York on June 14, 1934. The film of this fight has long been
preserved and widely distributed over the years, though on the web it
is mostly found in very poor quality. The stills here, and the video
clip, are from from a rare 35mm nitrate print I acquired some years
ago and was just recently scanned to HD. As was the custom during
the depression years, the fight portions were shot at silent speed
(16-18 frames per second) to save on cost, with the crowd sounds
dubbed in later. The pre- and post fight portions were filmed at
standard sound 24fps speed to capture the ring announcements. In
this clip, I have slowed the speed 25% to approximate real time.
Though
Baer came out strong in the first two rounds, he was unable to KO
Carnera and fought in furies thereafter. This gave Carnera time to
recover, and it was Primo who often came forward, forcing the fight
through the middle rounds. By the 11th round, Carnera
was exhausted, and quit after a final barrage by Baer. I chose to
show Round 6 because it’s not only rare, but one of the better
rounds for Primo. The two trade blows in some good action and the
verbal exchanges are on display as well.
What
I like most about this footage is the clarity of the film and seeing
not only the fighter’s expressions, but the trash talking as well.
Baer and Carnera had been in the ring together before, as actors,
while filming the Hollywood movie The Prizefighter
and The Lady a year earlier.
The two no doubt relished getting down to actual combat.
Some
thoughts on Carnera: There’s no question that Carnera’s career is
padded by a number of fixed victories, but those fights served in
part as his boxing education. The softer competition bought him time
to develop his skills. But even at his best Primo, though athletic
and who certainly had his moments, was never a very skilled boxer.
Not that he didn’t try, but he suffered from
Acromegaly
and Gigantism, a
hormonal disorder that develops when the pituitary gland produces too
much growth hormone during adulthood, and accounted for Primo’s
massive 6’6’ 260lb size. The
illness meant, in short, that Primo’s brain was wired for a smaller
body. His nervous system had to work much harder to maintain balance
and coordination to perform than an unaffected person. He had great
strength but he didn’t have the reaction time a champion boxer
needs to combine speed and power, evade punches, and to anticipate
and react to his opponent’s moves. I appreciate that Primo went a
long way with what he had.
Saturday, May 21, 2022
The Rocky Marciano Tapes #6 - The Last Interview
Recorded hours before his death, Rocky Marciano was interviewed live on WFLD-TV Chicago. In this excerpt, Rocky offers his views on boxing and discusses his fight with Carmine Vingo. Marciano died in a small-plane crash in Iowa the following morning August 31, 1969.
The Rocky Marciano Tapes are produced from several exclusive, and unedited, recordings with the former Heavyweight Champion between 1968 and 1969.
Monday, May 16, 2022
The Rocky Marciano Tapes #5
This episode features an excerpt from Rocky’s freewheeling discussion with reporter Hy Gardner in 1969. Rocky talks about boxing and show business, respect of opponents, Ezzard Charles, fighting in Russia, the joy of combat, and singer Mario Lanza’s claim to have knocked out Marciano while sparring.
The Rocky Marciano Tapes are taken from several interviews with the former Heavyweight Champion, recorded in 1968 and in 1969. These unedited recordings have not been heard for decades. In this segment, Rocky talks about his dedication to training and conditioning for a fight.
Monday, May 9, 2022
The Rocky Marciano Tapes #4 - My Career
In
this episode, recorded in 1968, Rocky Marciano talks about the early
days of his boxing career, beginning while in the US Army through his
fight with Joe Louis. Rocky also speaks on how boxing has changed,
fighters
are less active
and his reaction the Murray
Woroner
Heavyweight Tournament Computer Series in 1967.
The Rocky Marciano Tapes are produced from several exclusive, and unedited, recordings with the former Heavyweight Champion between 1968 and 1969.
Saturday, April 30, 2022
The Rocky Marciano Tapes #3 - Rocky Talks About Ali
In
this episode, Rocky Marciano offers his assessment of Heavyweight
Champion Muhammad Ali’s career and the state of boxing in late
1968. This
interview took place a year before before Marciano met and
collaborated with Muhammad Ali on their Super Fight movie, and where
they later formed a friendship.
The
Rocky Marciano Tapes are produced from several exclusive, and
unedited, recordings with the former Heavyweight Champion between
1968 and 1969.
Thursday, April 28, 2022
The Rocky Marciano Tapes #2
Recorded in Miami 1968, Rocky
Marciano talks about his dedication to training.
The Rocky Marciano Tapes are produced from a series of private interviews with the former Heavyweight Champion, recorded in 1968 and in 1969. These unedited recordings have not been heard for decades.
The Rocky Marciano Tapes #1
In this segment, Rocky talks about the 1968 World Boxing Association (WBA) heavyweight tournament, that was promoted to determine a successor to Muhammad Ali.
The Rocky Marciano Tapes are produced from a series of private interviews with the former Heavyweight Champion, recorded in 1968 and in 1969. These unedited recordings have not been heard for decades.
Thursday, March 31, 2022
Irish Jerry Quarry Rare Sparring and Interview Footage
This is some great sparring
footage along with two brief interviews with Jerry Quarry. The first in 1968, is
prior to Jerry’s
fight with Ellis, where Jerry talks about Thad Spencer. The second is
while training for the fight with Ali in 1970.
Saturday, March 12, 2022
Stanley Ketchel vs Billy Papke
IV Extended
Collector’s Cut Colma,
California, July 5, 1909
To my knowledge,
there are only two surviving films of the legendary middleweight
champion Stanley Ketchel in action. One is the beautifully
photographed but infamous October 1909 mismatch against heavyweight
champion Jack Johnson. The other was Ketchel’s title defense in
July of that year, in the same arena, against rival and former
middleweight champion Billy Papke.
I first acquired an
extended print of the Ketchel-Papke fight in the 1970s. I was
disappointed with the fight. Papke, sporting a Chippendale-style
protective cup, fought much of the bout, pulling Ketchel into
clinches, wrestling, holding and hitting, while the referee struggled
round after round to keep the fighters separated. Even when viewing
on a large screen, the infighting made it hard to parse out the
action. When Ketchel did break away, it was exciting to see him dig
in with the ferocity he was famous for, but those moments seemed to
be few.
Over the years I
collected more versions of the film as they became available. None
were better, and those posted on Youtube were worse. When I finally
received a clean hi-res scan of the surviving footage, it changed my
perspective of the fight entirely. The clarity of the film made the
fight more exciting to watch, and it revealed the fight to be intense
and brutal and with Papke coming on in the final rounds. During many
of the clinches and infighting, the two fighters appear to be either
trash talking or baiting one another, especially Papke. Ketchel won
a very close decision.
With the recent
passing of our friend, the boxing historian and film collector, Steve
Lott, I’ve been inspired to reevaluate my film collection and how
to make it a more useful archive. It’s one thing to collect and
amass materials, but it’s another to create something with it and
share it in ways that’s of value to others. I thought about the
Ketchel-Papke film and sat down to review the copies I had. I found
that my extended print contained some footage not in the hi-res scan.
The hi-res scan also had portions that were new to me, and scenes
that were also corrupted.
The fight was held
outdoors under cloudy stormy conditions. The clarity is good for a
1909 vintage print, though of my three films, the quality is uneven.
The hi-res scan shows the complete camera frame, while my extended
print is inferior with the picture cropped and zoomed in.
The extended film
shows nine rounds of the fight over 30 minutes. They are allegedly
1,2,13,15,16,17,18,19,20. One thing I’ve learned over the years is
how early fight films, especially those that predate the 1930s, are
badly preserved and many survive as little more than relics of their
original form.
Once I sat down to
edit the footage, I realized that the Ketchel-Papke film was a jigsaw
puzzle. Some rounds were mis-titled or out of order, or not titled
at all, some with splices and jump cuts that made it difficult to
verify what round the action was taking place.
So I dug through
what evidence I could see in the film itself. The fight took place
over 90 minutes, under partly cloudy skies. In Round 16 you can even
see a cloud shadow pass over the audience. The fighter’s shadows
got longer as the sun moved into the afternoon, not to mention how
Papke and especially Ketchel became marked up as the fight
progressed. There’s also the changing pace of the action, though
honestly, Ketchel and Papke kept up the action with amazing stamina.
The best evidence
ended up being the round card display. At the end of most rounds, a
person can be seen at ringside, displaying a large sign with each
upcoming round number for the audience and for the cameras. The
teleprompter of 1909.
Based on what I can
determine, the film shows action from Rounds 2, 3, 8, 13, 14, 15, 16,
17 ,18 and with one additional round that could be either 19 or 20.
Most Youtube posts of this film are from the eleven minute Big Fights
Inc short, which does not show the end of the contest. In the
extended silent version I have, the round labeled as 20 shows Ketchel
eating a nasty right from Papke and then walking to his corner. This
turned out to be the end of Round 14, leading me to suspect that
Round 20 may not in the footage at all.
I’d like to
believe the remaining footage does show Round 20 and the end of the
fight, but it’s likely to be Round 19 instead. In this last
footage, we see the fighters are on the ropes in a far corner. As
they break, there’s a rush into the ring by the seconds. An
exhausted Ketchel is met by his handlers as he walks to his corner,
while Papke’s handlers dash across the ring to escort him away.
This could be a post fight celebration, or the excitement of handlers
assisting the fighters just before the final round. There’s a
similar scene at the end of Round 17, but you can see the round card
immediately hoisted up displaying Round 18. As the action comes to
an end of this particular round though, the card isn’t visible.
I spent several
weeks in front of a video editor matching and combing, often frame by
frame, the three prints of the film for this article. I’m calling
this a Collector’s Cut. It’s not a restoration. A restoration
involves having most if not all the original footage restored with
the aim of replicating its original form. As a collector, I assume
there is more footage out there, but I can’t verify that one way or
another, so I worked with what I have. A Collector’s Cut is a
partial reconstruction, and a work in progress. --Carl
Frazier-Quarry I is a personal favorite of mine. It was a classic
encounter, with Jerry and Joe at their physical peaks, held in Madison
Square Garden with the great Arthur Mercante as referee. Back in 1999
when I was working with James Quarry on the Jerry Quarry website, James
gave me a recording of a radio interview he did where he talked about
the foundation and Jerry’s career. I put this video together with is his
ringside account of the fight.
1972 sports newsreel featuring the years boxing highlights including
Ali-Chuvalo, Frazier-Stander, Foreman-Paez and Ali-Foster. Mostly
newsreel camera footage, not seen during the fight broadcasts.
Gene Tunney vs. Jack Dempsey II
Solders Field, Chicago
September 22, 1927
Graham McNamee NBC
Fight Film & Broadcast Sync
“The legendary battle of the Long Count between Jack Dempsey and
Gene Tunney had been recounted and retold during many intellectual
debates, heated arguments and bar fights for nearly a century. Motion
pictures of the knockdown dramatically captured the famous seventh round
and have since become part of boxing lore. However the blow by blow
descriptions that millions across the country heard is an obscurity.”—Frederick V. Romano
The film is famously shown in slow motion. The sequence begins nearly
a minute into the seventh round. As he had done throughout the fight,
Challenger Jack Dempsey advances toward Heavyweight Champion Gene
Tunney. As Tunney throws a left, Dempsey counters with a right that
catches Tunney to the head. Tunney, likely phased by the punch, fails to
see Dempsey’s looping left hook and straight right. Both punches
connect, and Tunney is staggered. He falls to the ropes where Dempsey
continues his attack. Tunney’s knees give way under a crushing left hook
and a right sends the champion to the canvas. Dempsey wrote that he hit
Tunney with all the punches he’d been throwing in his sleep over the
previous year. Referee Dave Barry gestures for Jack to follow the rules
and go to a neutral corner, but now it was Dempsey who appeared stunned
and amazed at what had just happened. Barry delays the count—at least a
few seconds go by, or for many boxing fans, a near eternity. Dempsey
walks directly behind the champion, then looking up, Dempsey finally
complies with Barry and steps away. The referee turns toward the fallen
champion, and ignoring the call of the timekeeper, restarts the count at
One. Through the count, Tunney sits up holding the lower rope. At three
he glances at the referee, otherwise he is still. His condition is a
mystery. At eight, Tunney pulls his feet under and stands at nine. For
the remaining two minutes Tunney retreats, unsteady at times, with
Dempsey in pursuit, charging and swinging mostly at the air in front of
Tunney’s head. Dempsey tries again and again trap to the champion, but
Tunney manages to stay just out of reach. The round ends. Tunney shoves
Dempsey away. The fight continues through the scheduled 10 rounds and
Tunney retains the title. Theater audiences witnessed films of the fight in the days and weeks
following the event. “The Long Count” as it came to be called, created
one of boxing’s greatest controversies. Did referee Dave Barry’s delay
of the count save Tunney from a knockout? Over the years, the film of
the seventh round would become boxing’s version of the Zapruder film, a
movie watched over and over, with every frame analyzed for what happened
and what might have been. Those first theater-goers, however, watched
in silence. 1927 was still the era of silent films. While the film remains a silent witness, the battle itself was heard
by millions as it was broadcast live on radio around the world. The
fight was announced by legendary sports commentator Graham McNamee.
McNamee was a pioneer in radio who specialized in baseball coverage. In
1923, he was hired to call the Harry Greb and Johnny Wilson fight, but
came away dissatisfied with the established formalities of commentary,
where by describing events as a casual viewer, describing the action in
past tense. This was akin to telling a story. McNamee began adding more
personality to his delivery, describing not just the action as it
happened, but embellishing or “coloring” the drama of the contest and
describing the atmosphere inside the venue. He amped up his tone,
sometimes breathlessly shouting the action. McNamee conveyed that he was
just as thrilled with the action as the fans listening. This style came
to be called play-by-play. McNamee announced both the 1926 and 1927 Tunney-Dempsey fights for
NBC. It’s been written that the second fight was especially dramatic,
and it was reported that between seven and ten radio listeners were so
caught up in the commentary that they suffered heart failure. NBC did not record Tunney-Dempsey broadcasts. In fact most radio
broadcasts of the 1920s were never saved. Radio was still a live medium,
and recording technology, primarily disc-cutting, was limited.
Recording discs could only capture a few minutes at a time. With the LP
and recording tape decades away, it was impractical to document
countless hours of broadcasts. Over the years I’ve reached out to fellow boxing collectors and asked
if they knew anything about a recording, but nothing was ever verified.
While doing a search a few months ago I came across lecture notes by
Matthew Barton, a curator at The Library of Congress. He referred to a,
“surviving radio broadcasts from 1927 … the Jack Dempsey-Gene Tunney
long count heavyweight title fight … one of the reasons that we know
just how long the long count was is because it was recorded.” I
contacted Mr. Barton and it turned out he’s a very knowledgeable boxing
fan. We discussed the recording, and he referred me to several radio
historians who may be able to help with a copy. One source came through. The existence of the broadcast turned out to be an open secret. The
second Tunney-Dempsey air-check was indeed recorded—or more
appropriately, it was pirated. With borrowed disc-cutting equipment,
engineers at a small blues record label called Paramount of Port Washington, Wisconsin, captured McNamee’s broadcast on ten separate 78RPM recording discs. According to radio archivist Louis V. Genco, “Paramount was a small,
Wisconsin-based operation notorious among collectors today for the
indifferent quality of its recording work, even as it recorded material
by artists who are now very much in demand. Paramount (not Paramount
Pictures) did not own its own recording studio until 1929, and up to
that date depended on facilities rented from other companies, mostly in
the Chicago area. On the evening of the fight, engineers cut and
recorded the broadcast on a total of ten discs, each covering one round
of the action with McNamee’s call. The sound quality is hollow and
distant, leading to the conclusion that the recording was made by simply
placing a microphone before a radio tuned to a station carrying the
broadcast, most likely one of NBCs Chicago outlets.” A limited number of copies were replicated and distributed, sold
poorly, and the recording faded into obscurity. It’s unclear how many
complete sets still exist. Along the way, a transfer of the audio was
made for preservation. With both audio and fight film in hand, I wanted to bring the two
sources together to complete the movie. Matching exclusive sound and
picture, referred to as “rubber sync,” is something of a challenge. The
film was taken with hand-cranked cameras that varied in speed. The
footage (I have a print of the 1927 theatrical release) does not show
the entire three minutes of round 7. As for the audio, it’s low
fidelity, but the recording is stable, and it captures the entire round.
McNamee’s voice is prominent, with the crowd in the far background
except during peak moments of action. Once loaded into a video editor, I
looked for cues where the action, sound and commentary lineup—the
opening bell, the crowd responding to key moments of action, and the
referee’s count, were all clear reference points. McNamee’s narration
was less help than I thought. His delivery was not particularly smooth.
His speech halts at times, as if trying to find the right words. He’ll
pause, perhaps distracted, then chase the action again, sometimes
matching, sometimes lagging behind. My goal was to sync film and audio
to where McNamee was likely responding and speaking, just like anyone at
the fight or watching the film might respond. In 1940, the ban on the interstate distribution of boxing films was
lifted. The Long Count was seen by a much larger audience than when it
was first released, including the eyes of a new generation. Watching the
knockdown sequence in true-life speed, specifically from the time
Tunney hits the canvas to when Dave Barry begins counting, appeared more
of a technicality, than enough time for a groggy fighter to recover. As
a result, the controversy declined, but it has never died. The
spectacle is actually with the count itself, the drama of Barry’s
dramatic tolling of the count, with Dempsey waiting in the wings, and
Tunney’s Zen-like posture, making the world wait fourteen long seconds. The matching radio call with the Long Count film is no revelation,
but it offers a fresh perspective—to both see, and hear, the highlight
of this classic fight. There’s a thrill in watching this film with the
live sound. McNamee’s excitement is contagious. His call of the action,
though rough by today’s standards, is enjoyable for that very reason.
Unlike our perspective, with the film burned into collective memory, we
hear a man describe this historical event as it unfolds in front of him,
just a few feet away from the microphone. He has no idea what’s going
to happen next, nor the impact of those three minutes for years to come.
Jack Johnson vs. Jess Willard
100th Anniversary
Havana, Cuba, April 5, 1915
Fight Highlights and Rare Footage The Fight One hundred years ago today, the World Heavyweight Championship
changed hands. On the afternoon of April 5, 1915, for over an hour and a
half, champion and challenger battled through 25 three-minute rounds in
100+ degree heat in a ring standing at the finish line at the Oriental
Race Track in Havana, Cuba. The pace of the fight was more like a
baseball game than a boxing match, but it lacked neither drama nor
excitement. By the end of the contest, the 37-year-old champion Jack
Johnson had thrown every punch, tried every physical and verbal tactic
in his arsenal on his unyielding challenger.
Jess Willard, the
33-year-old, 6’6” giant, a man with limited skills but immense size and
strength, would not only withstand an hour of relentless attacks, but
stick to his fight plan of probing and leading with long left jabs
followed by overhand rights and uppercuts. After 20 rounds, Johnson was
leading on points. His lead was due to work rate rather than domination.
Willard was never seriously hurt and many of Johnson’s punches were
blocked by the challenger’s arms and gloves. As the champion slowed
down, Willard drove the once untouchable, unbeatable Jack Johnson into
exhaustion and retreat. Shortly into the 26th round, Willard scored with
two rights. The first one grazed the champion’s chin, and the second
slammed squarely against Johnson’s jaw, dropping him to the canvas where
he lay on his back as the referee counted him out. The crowd stormed
the ring and Willard was besieged by fans. Johnson was lifted to his
feet and led across the ring by his handlers.
After it was over, the New York Times quoted Johnson, the
first black man to win and lose the Heavyweight Championship, as saying,
“It was a clean knockout and the best man won. It was not a matter of
luck. I have no kick coming.” From the Chicago Tribune Johnson
continued, “I was sure my experience and generalship would be too much
for Willard, but I was mistaken. He gave me a beating, but I took his
blows without wincing, and he can hit.” Two days after the fight, in
front of a crowd of well wishers, Willard boarded a steamer bound for
Key West. Johnson came down to see him off. According to the Toronto World,
Johnson shook hands with Willard saying, “I wish you all the luck you
could wish for yourself. I hope you make a heap of money. Be sure to
save it.” Willard answered gratefully, “I’ll see you in Europe.” Willard
had already received an offer to fight contender Frank Moran in London,
and Johnson would soon leave for France. It was a rare and brief
display of consolation by Jack Johnson. When one considers the well
documented racial abuse and injustice Johnson had endured during his
reign from the public, the press and from the boxing community, his
gesture of respect toward Willard was testament to the strength of his
character. But détente sailed away with Willard’s steamer. In the months
that followed, a series of events would spark controversy over the
knockout, calling into question the legitimacy of the finish and the
reputation of both boxers. A Picture Tells A Thousand Lies Photographs of the fight were widely published. Both the press as
well as audience members captured numerous images of the fight. The
single most enduring image, however, was taken a moment after Johnson
hit the canvas. Johnson is seen lying on his back with his arms over his
head, while Willard, who was walking away, appears instead to be
standing stoically over the fallen champion. But this image of the
defeated black champion became Johnson’s last laugh. Despite all reports
of the knockout, Johnson would soon announce that he had faked the
finish for a $30,000 payoff. The proof of fake, Johnson insisted, was in
the photo. Once on the canvas, Johnson’s arms flung up over his head.
Johnson insisted that this action was deliberate and he was consciously
shading his eyes from the sun. The claim was never substantiated, and
the whole story never added up. Why wait 26 rounds to throw a fight? Not
to mention that Johnson’s eyes were not shaded in the photograph. The
author of the book Unforgivable Blackness, Geoffrey C. Ward,
wrote that Johnson had already been paid in full the morning of the
fight, and then promptly left the promoter’s office to place a bet on
himself. Johnson’s claim of fake went viral anyway. Jack spent the rest
of his life profiting from the story and embedding it into boxing lore. The Film Nobody Saw There was great anticipation by the public to see the actual films of
the fight, and if the footage proved Johnson’s story or not. The
Johnson-Willard fight had not only been filmed, but it was the most
photographed prizefight of its time. Hollywood actor and director Fred
Mace partnered with promoter Jack Curley to film and photograph the
fight from multiple angles, including from ringside. This had never been
done before. To capture a boxing match this way was a huge undertaking
compared to the customary single camera shoots going back to the 1890s. A
camera platform was built on the racetrack adjacent to the ring for the
primary angle, facing east, away from the sun. A second camera was
placed for a wide shot facing north toward the grandstand, and finally, a
ringside camera was stationed near Willard’s corner. Those are the
views we see in the film. It was a near perfect setting for the cameras.
The day had begun overcast, but the air was hot, and the temperature
rose to 100+ degrees. The fight started an hour behind
schedule—apparently someone had forgotten to bring the “gong.” As the
fight progressed through the afternoon, the sun appeared, casting long
shadows in the ring. Johnson came to the fight as confident as ever. For Johnson the
showman, the ring was his grand stage. He bantered with hecklers,
laughed, chatted and joked with the audience. He baited, taunted and
frustrated his opponents. Johnson used his strength and defensive skills
to control nearly every aspect of a fight, including how long they
would last. Up to this fight, Johnson had relished every moment in the
ring. The champion had reigned for seven years over a depleted division
of white boxers who were either too small or too old to be a challenge.
Johnson could have fought more worthy challengers among the league of
gifted black heavyweights, but none was given the opportunity. Johnson
wasn’t satisfied being the first black Heavyweight Champion, he wanted
to be the only black heavyweight champion. Once inside the ropes with Willard, and faced with the reality of
Willard’s size, Johnson became intimidated. Years earlier, in the first
round of Johnson’s fight with Champion Tommy Burns, Jack immediately
knocked Burns to the canvas to establish dominance. In his first round
with Willard, the films shows Johnson trying the same tactic, but his
punches had no effect. In the second round, and most unusual for the
champion so early in a fight, Johnson tried to knock Willard out.
Johnson rushed Willard to the ropes with looping lefts and rights. Jack
wanted to get this one over with. Again the punches had no effect.
Through the next dozen rounds Johnson was often the aggressor, and
attacked Willard more often and with more intensity than in any of his
previous title defenses. Through it all, Willard blocked many of
Johnson’s punches and kept Johnson at bay with a long left jabs and
rights to the head and body. By the 14th round, Johnson slowed and his rallies appear desperate.
He begins to bide his time. Johnson’s busy pace had given him a good
lead, but Willard had prepared for this. When the fight was set for 45
rounds, Willard’s team planned for an endurance contest. While Willard
had little of the boxing skills and experience that Johnson had, he had
the discipline that Johnson had abandoned. Jess had been a farmhand, a
trade requiring strength and endurance above all else. Jess worked the
fight like a day in the fields—stalking and punishing Johnson at a
constant steady pace. Had the fight been scheduled for 20 rounds,
referee Welsh would have given Johnson the decision. But even so, with
Willard coming on at the end, Johnson would have looked more like a
survivor than a winner. The Knockout By the 26th round, Johnson knew he was finished and asked that his
wife be escorted out of the stadium. For a moment it looked like Johnson
was going to quit on his stool. Referee Welsh had to call Johnson from
his corner. Johnson came forward and tried once more to drive Willard
back. Willard cut off the ring and trapped Johnson in a corner. With the
fighters in full view of the cameras, Willard lunged forward, putting
his full weight behind a right to Johnson’s jaw. The punch pitched
Johnson backward, not unlike the impact Joe Frazier suffered from George
Foreman nearly 60 years later. Johnson tried to grab Willard as he
fell, pulling Jess forward and into the ropes. Johnson landed hard on
his back. His arms went up as they naturally would when a person falls
backward, and his gloves briefly hung over his face before sliding back
over his head, his legs collapsing to the canvas. Advocates for Johnson, as in the Ken Burns documentary Unforgivable Blackness,
insisted that Johnson could have gotten up if he had wanted to. Bert
Sugar even states that Johnson didn’t rise because “He was a business
man” who knew it wasn’t his day. The notion is little more than wishful
thinking, as if an exhausted fighter suffering the brown-out of a
knockout punch has the presence of mind to ponder his career options.
Geoffrey C. Ward wrote that Johnson’s seconds in fact had to help him to
his feet. Johnson was still dazed enough to believe the fight was still
on and had to be held back by Sam McVey. In a rare photo taken moments
after the knockout, Johnson is seen still on the canvas with a corner
man trying to lift him. The Sims Act The American public never saw the films. Boxing films had been banned
in the United States since 1912. The Sims Act had been passed by
Congress in response to the race riots that occurred after the
Johnson-Jeffries fight in 1910. The law allowed for prizefights to be
filmed, but barred their distribution across state lines. The concept
behind the law was that a community hosting a prizefight could see the
films, but that they would also have to deal with any consequences. The
law ended boxing films as the movie industry’s main attraction, paving
the way for Hollywood. Internationally the film was a success. According to the review in the Ottawa Citizen
on June 1, 1915, the movie was feature-length, with scenes of Havana,
the fighters’ arrival and training, and then every round of the fight
plus titles. The newspaper proclaimed, “Undoubtedly the best that have
ever been taken of a prizefight.” The film was also shown in London and
widely screened in Australia, where the connection to Johnson was strong
and boxing thrived. Into History Eventually the movie run was finished, and prints were stored,
discarded or lost. The clamor of all great fights inevitably fades when
the next big fight comes along. That was when Willard was gladiatorially
dispatched in three rounds by Jack Dempsey in July 1919. Willard’s
reputation diminished as the Heavyweight Championship succeeded to Jack
Dempsey through Rocky Marciano. Thanks to the infamous photograph, Jess
came to be regarded as a big fighting cowboy of the disgraceful White
Hope era who happened to fight Jack Johnson at the right time. It also
didn’t help that the marginal success of the big men who followed
Willard, like Primo Carnera, Abe Simon, Buddy Baer and others furthered
the belief that boxing talent leveled off beyond a certain height and
weight. Johnson’s life has been well documented. After losing to
Willard, Johnson fell on hard times. Returning to the United States in
1920, he served a one-year prison sentence for a fabricated criminal
conviction. Johnson remained in the public eye thereafter as a boxer and
celebrity, promoting his reputation and discrediting Willard at every
opportunity before his death in 1946. A Discovery Down Under Decades passed. No prints of the Willard-Johnson film were thought to
exist. Sometime in the 1950s, one or more copies of the Willard-Johnson
film surfaced in Sydney, Australia. The circumstances are unclear, but
boxing archivist Steve Lott suggested that it was not uncommon to find
vintage films stashed away in abandon properties like old movie
theaters. Whatever the specifics may have been, Willard and a
screenwriter named Joe Stone negotiated with the dealer in Australia to
obtain the film. The print instead ended up in the hands of film
collectors and television producers Bill Cayton and Jim Jacobs. Willard
was left out of the loop and he sued. The case was eventually settled
with access to the film going to Willard and Stone and with rights to
Cayton and Jacobs. In 1965 Stone went to the newspapers with the film
which he said, “We picked it up in Australia where Johnson had sold it
or pawned it.” Johnson’s copy, which Joe Stone had acquired, was not
only in marginal condition, but Willard’s knockout punch had been cut
out—perhaps Johnson couldn’t bear the sight. Though a complete film had
yet to surface, viewers were surprised by what they saw. Not only did
Johnson fight to win, but Willard was far more effective than previously
thought. Willard’s Requiem Willard was not among the best of the heavyweight champions, but he’s
been underappreciated. His boxing skills were limited, but he was in
some ways ahead of his time. Despite his late start in boxing at age 27,
Jess nevertheless was schooled and conditioned to make full use of his
size advantage, which he and his trainers accomplished, perhaps
foreshadowing the goliaths of today, who fight almost exclusively at
long range. Jess was among those fighters whose overall career was not
impressive, but like Buster Douglas many decades later, Jess put it all
together for the one fight in his life that mattered most. For the Johnson fight, Willard accomplished what seemed impossible at
the time. He took Jack Johnson out of his comfort zone and forced the
defensive master to come to him. Johnson’s practice of holding and
hitting didn’t work against Willard. Willard was just too big and
Johnson eventually became exhausted. It was a feat that only Willard
could have pulled off at the time, and he delivered. Tom Flanagan, who
trained Johnson for many of his fights, stated in a 1928 Pittsburgh Press
article that the Willard fight was on the level and added, “The truth
of the whole affair is that Johnson, whose pride in holding the title
was so great, could not stand to think of another man beating him.
Remember, too, that Willard was trained up to the minute, scaled over
240 pounds and was bigger and stronger in every way. When Jack found
that Jess took everything he had and came back stronger in every round,
he just lost heart and knew he could not win.” In a 1939 interview for
the St. Petersburg Times, Willard said of Johnson, “One of the
best in the ring. I don’t think there was a more clever man. He knew all
the ropes of the game and used them. He never let a blow get near him. I
mean he was that good.” Willard died in 1968, but not before newly restored footage of the
Johnson-Willard knockout was featured in the Cayton-Jacobs-Chapin
documentary, The Legendary Champions, which chronicled the
heavyweight championship from John L. Sullivan to Gene Tunney. In the
Academy Award-nominated film, Willard’s infamous knockout punch was
shown uncut “for the first time,” complete and in slow motion. The
knockout was no longer in doubt and Johnson’s claim of fake was now
indefensible. Fifty-two years after the fight in Havana, Jess Willard
got the last word. The Video In the video I produced for this article, I assembled Willard-Johnson
fight footage from several documentary and archival sources including
16mm prints in my collection. There’s too much material to include
everything, but I wanted to show a good portion of the fight plus rare
footage and photographs. There are two versions of Round 26—the first is
the original release with edits from two camera views, and the second
is the complete round uncut. As the ring is stormed by the audience,
Cuban soldiers enter and eventually clear the masses. Knowing that the
fighters were trapped in the ring, I scanned the film to see if I could
locate and show them. In two shots immediately after the knockout, the
picture zooms in to show Willard besieged by fans and Jack Johnson, in
the background, being escorted to his corner. In the second shot,
Johnson can be seen standing in his corner, putting a towel over his
head with Sam McVey nearby. There are also post-fight scenes that were
likely in the original release, promoting Willard on tour. Finally, Jack
Johnson is seen shaking hands with a crowd of well-wishers that was
likely filmed sometime before the fight.
Jerry Quarry vs. Alex Miteff
Olympic Auditorium, Los Angeles
April 27, 1967
16mm Film & Network TV Audio, 10 Minutes Jerry Quarry was an immensely popular fighter during his career. His
story is familiar to all boxing fans of a certain age. After an
excellent amateur career, Jerry rose with great promise in the
professional ranks during the mid-1960s. After an unsuccessful bid to
win the heavyweight championship in 1968, Jerry fought on, at times a
brilliant though erratic performer. During the era where
African-Americans were most prominent in boxing, boxers like Quarry, an
Irish-American, thrived while facing enormous social pressures. His wins
against Thad Spencer, Floyd Patterson, Ernie Shavers, Ron Lyle, Jack
Bodell, and Mac Foster were thrilling and unexpected. But so were his
dramatic losses to Joe Frazier and Muhammad Ali, with equally unexpected
fails against George Chuvalo and Jimmy Ellis. The competition was
steep, but he was often his own undoing, unable to manage not only his
personal demons, but those who guided and misguided his career. However, appreciate him or not, the young Jerry Quarry was something
to see. In 1967, at nearly 22 years of age, he was lean, skilled,
athletic and conditioned. Just shy of his physical maturity, Jerry was
still light-years from his late career transformation into the heavy-set
brawler who came back and briefly peaked in 1973. Film and video of
Jerry during his early career however is scarce. Home VCR recorders were
not introduced until the end of the 1960s, so as with all broadcast
content up to that point, preservation was up to the networks and
venues. In those days, the networks disposed or reused much of their
post-broadcast video tape save for the most high profile coverage. Venue
films, often owned by promoters, were rarely stored long term.
Alex Miteff Of Jerry’s early fights, one of the surviving films is Jerry’s April
1967 match with heavyweight veteran Alex Miteff at the Olympic
Auditorium in Los Angeles. The fight was broadcast on network TV and
also filmed with a single in-house camera. Originally from Argentina,
the 32-year-old Miteff had a promising career of his own. After arriving
in the United States in the 1950s, Miteff was a contender, but
struggled against much bigger opponents than he had fought in his home
country, many of whom—including Zora Folley, Eddie Machen, Henry Cooper,
Billy Hunter, George Chuvalo and Muhammad Ali—were among the best of
the day. The Fight The Quarry-Miteff fight started quickly. Miteff had trained seriously
for the match and immediately brought the fight to Jerry. Jerry scored a
knockdown in the first round, but Miteff recovered and kept the
pressure on Quarry through round two. In the third round, Miteff began
to slow down and Quarry beat him to the punch repeatedly. Late in the
round as Miteff drove Quarry to the ropes, Jerry countered with a
sweeping left hook and Miteff collapsed. Alex beat the count, but Jerry
sent him down again and referee George Latka stopped the bout at 2:18.
It was Miteff’s last fight. The Film The fight was captured on 16mm color film with live audio. At some
point the film was transferred to video tape which has been in
circulation, though rare, among collectors for many years. On the
footage I received, the live sound glitches in and out. Though was no
home video recording in 1967, there were cassettes, and while the
official network broadcast is lost, someone captured much of the program
audio on a home tape recorder. A few years ago, I received copies of
both the video and audio sources and recently decided to see how much of
the fight could be pieced together. As it turned out, most of the three
rounds were captured in one form or the other. But there were problems.
The film was edited worse than a home movie, incomplete and out of
order. Random long shots of the ring are followed by close-ups and
audience cutaways. The knockdown is missing as is much of the third
round. The audio was noisy, distorted, and incomplete as well. At times,
it’s nearly impossible to hear the announcer’s call above the tape hiss
to determine what action is taking place. The Restoration Film editing is like solving a jigsaw puzzle. As each new piece finds
its place, the picture becomes clear. First I look for markers. The end
of rounds one and two were filmed, so I matched them with the ring
bells. Once those were locked in, I worked backwards into the footage.
The second round is nearly uncut, which filled the biggest gap. The
audio became a better editing guide after some fidelity was restored to
the recording by cutting the hiss and boosting the vocal range. Once
that was done, the announcer’s call of the action pointed to specific
moments I could also spot on the film. Slowly, sound and picture all
began to match up. This is by no means a complete production. In several portions the
audio runs where the picture is missing and vice versa. But it’s a
faithful working print of the fight in the correct sequence of events. I enjoyed watching both fighters in action, but especially Jerry. His
hands are quick, his footwork is fluid, and his counterpunching is
lightning fast. He looks relaxed and confident. Jerry’s use of the ropes
to trap and counter opponents is still one for the books, and we see
some of those tactics here. There’s also Jerry’s defense, which was
often more than a little transparent. Or as his brother James once
jokingly observed to me, Jerry “ate left jabs for breakfast.” It’s
jolting to see when Miteff does get through, as when he smacks Jerry
with a big right late in the first round. But Jerry answers and regroups
throughout the fight. The knockout punch is a work of art. This was Jerry’s last fight prior to the big stage. Six weeks later
he was in the ring with Floyd Patterson. Jerry was brought in as an
“opponent” for Patterson in the first round of the 1967-68 Heavyweight
Championship Tournament. But Jerry surprised the establishment by
overwhelming Patterson early, and holding the ex-champion to a draw. In
their October rematch, Quarry won a very close decision and went on to
the tournament finals. Quarry remained a leading heavyweight contender
for the next eight years.
Jack Sharkey vs. Primo Carnera I
Ebbets Field, Brooklyn, NY 1931
16mm Sound Transfer
Speed and Audio Restoration A recent article I wrote was accompanied with newsreel footage of
Jack Sharkey in training for his first fight with Primo Carnera in 1931,
including rare footage of Ernie Schaaf. As I described in the piece,
Sharkey went on to win a 15-round decision. The victory propelled
Sharkey back into contention and to his rematch with Max Schmeling for
the heavyweight championship in 1932. Sharkey was given what many regard
as a gift decision against Schmeling, and held the title for only one
year. I was planning to move on from there, but by chance I recently
found and acquired a rare 16mm print of that first Sharkey-Carnera
fight. The Film The print arrived marked as part of the Schlitz Famous Fights TV
series, which ran for a number of years beginning in the 1950s. Excerpts
of this film have been circulated for some time among collectors, and
versions have also been posted on YouTube, often as projector screen
videos or from old VHS tapes. I wanted to show a clean telecine transfer
of some of this film. A drawback of today’s boxing coverage is that it
widens the gap between contemporary HD quality and the analog films of
earlier eras. Younger viewers are used to seeing fights in amazing
detail and have, unfortunately, less appreciation for earlier boxing.
The networks today don’t help either. I’ve expressed before my
frustration with ESPN for showing classic footage on an as-is basis with
little or no picture restoration. Fortunately this print arrived in excellent condition, with few
breaks or scratches. The ring photography was average for the day. The
exposure was dark, but the density provides some extra detail often lost
in films of this period. Notably, many films made under the bright ring
lights were poorly exposed, sometimes to the point of completely
blowing out Irish complexions into a ghostly white. There is no live
audio, but the great Sam Taub provides the narration. Most famous as a
live blow-by-blow radio announcer, Taub delivers a classic style
narrative of the fighters and action.
The one drawback of the film is the projection speed. As Steve Lott
once explained to me, it was during the Depression of the 1930s that
film stock, like most everything, was in short supply. To conserve
footage, films were often taken at the silent speed of approximately 16
frames per second instead of the standard 24 frames per second
established for sound movies. Movie theaters may have slowed their
projectors to compensate at the time, but the surviving prints, such as
this one, runs at a speedy 24fps. This is why most early 20th century
fight films appear more like Keystone Cop movies than historic sports
events. For this video, I not only slowed the film down to standard
speed, but I kept Sam Taub’s narration is as well. If Sam sounds a
little lethargic, it’s because he’s actually speaking about a third
slower than normal, though I kept his voice at a natural pitch.
“…a long way to climb to reach that chin.”—Jack Sharkey The first Sharkey-Carnera fight was held at Ebbets Field, Brooklyn,
on October 12, 1931. It has largely been lost in history. It wasn’t a
title fight, and the rematch two years later was an upset that forever
cast a shadow over both fighters. This fight, however, appears to have
been a legitimate contest and a turning point for both boxers. Carnera
had come up the ranks very quickly, and suspiciously, and was still a
question mark as a title contender. Sharkey needed the win to secure a
rematch with Schmeling. The fight was not as close as some contemporary
descriptions indicate. Despite being five inches shorter and 60 pounds
lighter than Carnera, Sharkey shook the bigger man repeatedly throughout
the contest, including a knockdown in the fourth round. The Barrier Miner Daily
wrote, “Well advised by his seconds, Sharkey continued to rip into the
body, which forced Carnera to drop his guard. Then Jack would crack
Carnera’s jaw so hard that he wobbled repeatedly, but did not fall. The
eleventh and twelfth were like a terrier worrying a St. Bernard. Carnera
was weary and staggering in the fourteenth, and just before the final
bell reeled and swayed drunkenly on the verge of a knockout, as Sharkey
riddled his head with lefts and rights in a tempest of battering that
left him unable to defend himself.” It was a decisive win. Primo lost the fight but won the public’s respect. He proved to be a
courageous boxer, and while not a resourceful fighting machine, he was
durable, strong, and very agile for a man his size. Since the entire
film of the fight is nearly 50 minutes long, I’ve included only the last
two rounds. I wanted to show how Sharkey closed the show. Jack had a
good night, in front of 30,000 spectators who watched the match in
weather “so cold that most of the spectators wore mufflers and
overcoats.” Not only moving well to evade Carnera’s attacks, Sharkey was
very effective at getting inside Primo’s defenses, closing the distance
to finish the fight with the kind of action rarely seen today among
heavyweights. At the final bell, Sharkey rejoices, discarding his
mouthpiece and pushing referee Gunboat Smith aside as he follows Carnera
to his corner to pay respect.
Jack Sharkey & Ernie Schaaf
Newsreel Interview 1931
Primo Carnera vs. Ernie Schaaf 1933
16mm print Transfer Newsreels contain a wealth of hidden historical treasures. There are
hundreds of thousands of hours of film now being curated in archives
around the world. But due to the amount of material and limited
resources, the archives often provide limited information for each
entry, with some material going undocumented. Recently I was scanning
through an index of boxing newsreels made during the 1930s, looking for
alternate footage not used in the officially released versions. At the
bottom of one listing, I spotted the word Schaaf. When I
obtained and finally viewed the film, I saw that it was a promotional
reel featuring heavyweight Jack Sharkey training in May 1931 to fight
Primo Carnera. Included in the footage, as I had hoped, was rare film of
Sharkey’s friend and protégé, Ernie Schaaf. Rich Man Poor Man Sharkey and Schaaf exemplified the warrior’s bond. Sharkey, who was
six years older than Schaaf, was already an established boxer when they
met as Navy seamen on board the battleship Denver. The two
boxed, and Sharkey, admiring Schaaf’s determination in the ring, began
mentoring the teenager. After the Navy, the two remained friends as they
climbed the professional ranks during the 1920s. Both experienced mixed
luck with their careers. Sharkey fast-tracked during the mid-1920s,
before losing to Jack Dempsey and later to Max Schmeling. But on the
rise again, he defeated Primo Carnera in 1931, and then won the
Heavyweight Championship in a disputed decision from Max Schmeling the
following year. Meanwhile, Schaaf’s record was spotty. So in 1930, Sharkey acted on
both faith and loyalty to Schaaf when he and his manager, John Buckley,
bought Schaaf’s contract. The two boxers became official stable mates
and Schaaf began to prosper—with victories over a youthful Tony Galento,
Paulino Uzcudun, Jim Braddock, Tommy Loughran, Max Baer and Young
Stribling. There were also losses, including a rematch with future
champion Max Baer, where Schaaf was battered unconscious just seconds
before the final bell, suffering, many believe, permanent brain damage.
By 1933, however, Schaaf was a top-ranked heavyweight, right behind his
friend and champion Jack Sharkey. Dual fighter/manager partnerships are not uncommon, but Sharkey and
Schaaf were unique, remaining friends while ascending the ranks to
within one fight of facing each other. There was talk of Ernie hiring a
new manager in the event that he would challenge Sharkey for the title.
After Schaaf’s victory over Young Stribling, The Reading Eagle
reported, “The victory may have moved Schaaf into the somewhat
embarrassing position of crowding his co-manager, who was in his corner,
for a place in the heavyweight sun.” In The Gettysburg Times,
the two reportedly joked about the prospect, with Sharkey suggesting a
way “to devise some painless means of passing the crown along to him”
when Sharkey tired of the title. The Last Fight Instead, events soon played out like a Greek tragedy. On February 10,
1933, at Madison Square Garden, it was Schaaf’s turn to fight Primo
Carnera, a boxer that neither Schaaf nor Sharkey should have lost to.
Ernie appeared to be having an off night during the battle, and in the
13th round, Carnera hit Schaaf with a stiff left jab. Even today, the
sequence that followed is chilling to watch on the film; the sight of
Schaaf tumbling to the canvas, struggling with sudden paralysis, and
then collapsing. As the ring fills with Primo’s well-wishers, Sharkey
drags the unconscious Schaaf back to his corner. Unable to wake him,
Schaaf’s limp body is lifted out of the ring and carried off. All this
under the roar of 20,000 boos raining down from the crowd calling out
“FAKE.” Even the best Hollywood boxing movies would have trouble
matching a scene like this. At the hospital, belief was that Schaaf might recover. He eventually
came to and was speaking. Sharkey reportedly stayed with Ernie through
the night. The following morning, the doctors expressed hope regarding
Schaaf’s condition. Only then did Sharkey leave town on a trip with his
family. Schaaf died after emergency surgery on Valentine’s Day 1933 and
Sharkey never saw his friend alive again. Carnera, it was reported, was
crushed by the news of Ernie’s death, and cried for hours. For a
detailed story on the circumstances of Schaaf’s death, please read the
excellent article by Norman Marcus, “The Strange Death of Ernie Schaaf.” David Loses to Goliath The epilogue to this drama came four months later when champion
Sharkey faced Primo Carnera in their rematch. This was the title
challenge intended for Schaaf. Now instead, Sharkey was facing Ernie’s
killer. After a competitive six rounds, an uppercut/shove by Carnera
dumped Sharkey on the canvas like a beached whale. He lay motionless as
he was counted out. Rumors have circulated for years that the knockout
was not on the level. There were mob connections, primarily involving
Carnera. Sharkey denied the loss was anything but genuine, adding
famously that he was distracted by the sight of Schaaf’s ghost standing
in the ring. “I had no trouble, physically fit and everything and I
boxed the guy (Carnera) before . . . I looked and I see a vision of
Ernie Schaaf. There’s no pain . . . like in a dream. Of course when you
snap out of it, that’s when the shame comes. You know you’ve lost.” The Films The newsreel footage is striking in several ways. Sharkey looks
impressive during the training portion. Though only 6’ tall, modest
height for a heavyweight, Sharkey appears strong, well-conditioned and
projects great physical intensity and humor. Schaaf, though dressed in a
suit and tie for the occasion, looks impressive as well. At 6’2”, he is
clearly the bigger of the two men. Despite the scripting that was
common for newsreel sound bites, it’s clear that the two are friends and
trying not to crack up. The image of Schaaf in this film is a sharp
contrast to the man who appeared dwarfed in the ring against 6’6” Primo
Carnera. The newsreel also puts a face and a voice to a man, who has
mostly been associated with images of his death. I’ve also included the Official Films abridged version of the
Carnera-Schaaf fight from an excellent 16mm print. With the exposure and
film speed adjusted, the action suggests that Schaaf was in trouble
even before the knockout. I also have a longer version of this fight,
but the print quality is poor, though it does include the post-fight
footage with Schaaf being attended to and taken from the ring. I have
inserted that scene at the end.
