Rare footage casts a shadow on a Black Light
Myth-making is a large part of boxing. It raises the sport above
statistics and enhances the historical narrative. The fact that boxers
engage today under many of the same rules as those a century ago links
boxers and fans generations apart as one community. And because boxing
is staged in a theater setting, where the action is clearly displayed,
it was naturally a focus of early motion pictures. Fight films have
enabled past events to be preserved and witnessed from one generation to
the next. Some boxer’s legacies have grown despite the lack of
surviving footage. The most notable is that of Harry Greb, who remains
among the all-time greats, though no film of Greb’s fights have been
seen for decades. Another boxer whose reputation has grown, despite a
limited film record is the African-American heavyweight contender, Harry
Wills.
The Black Panther
Born in 1889, Harry “The Black Panther” Wills began boxing
professionally in 1912. He was among the youngest of the one-generation
phenomenon of African-American boxers sometimes called “The Black
Lights,” who unofficially dominated much of boxing’s elite fighters
during the first two decades of the 20th century. Even today, Wills
looks impressive in photographs. At 6’2” (or taller, depending on the
record) Wills was a lean, imposing, chiseled 210-pound heavyweight. His
victories over greats like the aging Sam Langford are often noted, and
from 1917 through 1922 Wills had an amazing string of victories. It
established him as a top contender.
Wills’ personal story, along with his rival Jack Dempsey, also
represents one of boxing’s most famous unfinished chapters. It’s a tale
about race in post-war America and about Harry Wills—an
African-American caught in the bitter tail wind of Jack Johnson divisive
legacy—who took every public and legal measure available to him to
secure a title fight with champion Jack Dempsey, but to no avail. Wills
never got to fight Jack Dempsey for the heavyweight championship, in
essence because he was black. Because of the unjust circumstances,
there’s always been a question of who would have won. Profiles of Wills
describe him as either a footnote or an uncrowned champion, depending on
the biographer. Hearsay and speculation has fueled debate for decades.
In any case, it’s clear that Harry Wills was a genuine force in the
division.
I’ve always wondered how good Harry Wills actually was, and the real
story of his quest to fight Jack Dempsey. Going back to the records, I
searched firsthand accounts. What I discovered was not simply a
challenger who was turned away, but a convoluted trail of claims,
counter-claims, public demands, court battles, reluctant investors,
lawyers, feuding business interests, fearful politicians, and two boxers
trying to earn a living.
Harry and Jack Sign the Dotted Line
After the success of the Dempsey-Carpentier fight in 1921, boxing
exploded into the mainstream and Jack Dempsey’s career as world
heavyweight champion soared to great heights. Then it stalled. Dempsey
didn’t defend his title for the next two years, during which time Wills
and other prospective challengers were considered and reconsidered.
Dempsey has been criticized for not fighting enough during his reign. He
in fact wanted to stay active, but his manager Doc Kearns and promoter
Tex Rickard insisted on “saving him for the big fights.” This was a
profitable career strategy for managers, but rust-inducing for boxers.
In early 1922, a national poll placed Harry Wills as the preferred
next challenger for Dempsey, just edging out contenders Tommy Gibbons
and Bill Brennan. It suggested that the public was ready for an
African-American to fight for the heavyweight title once
again. Negotiations began. Dempsey himself lobbied for the fight, writes
Roger Khan in the biography A Flame of Pure Fire, and his handlers
relented, but conditionally. On June 11, 1922, Dempsey and Wills put
pens to contracts. But the powerful New York Commissioner William
Muldoon did not want the fight to take place in New York. To complicate
matters further, Muldoon and promoter Tex Rickard clashed over, of all
things, ticket prices. Muldoon wanted 40,000 tickets fixed at $2.00 for
the “working people.” Rickard refused. In retaliation, Muldoon blocked
the Dempsey-Wills fight from taking place in New York, even threatening
to halt all heavyweight fights until prices came down. Frustrated,
Rickard traveled to several states—even north to Montreal—to find a
welcoming venue. None wanted the fight or had the money to host the
event. When the contract deadline ran out, Wills sued. From then until
1926, as the legal proceedings dragged on, a potential Dempsey-Wills
fight was often in the news as either under consideration, being
planned, or “scheduled for next year,” but never became a done deal.
Of Mice, Men and Money
Dempsey, Wills, and their managers did not create the nation’s racial
problems. They were caught up in it. And the timing could not have been
worse. They were mired in the aftermath of Jack Johnson, the oppressed
first black heavyweight champion (1908-1915). Johnson’s victory over
champion Tommy Burns was an upset, and a racist campaign began to drive
Johnson out of boxing. First unsuccessfully beating Johnson in the ring,
and then by prosecuting Johnson in the courts. But Johnson fueled the
fire as well. He didn’t try to change people’s minds. His behavior out
of the ring unfairly stereotyped African-Americans, and with one
exception, he even refused to give the other great black boxers of his
day a chance to fight for the title. During the five years after the
Johnson-Jeffries fight, the heavyweight championship franchise, perhaps
the richest in all of sports, was reduced to Johnson and his nomadic
entourage, or as Tex Rickard harshly stated, a championship that “…ain’t
worth a nickel.”
Rickard has been singled out as the culprit for blocking the
Dempsey-Wills fight, and there’s no question that he did not want a
black man to fight for the heavyweight championship again. Rickard was a
businessman above all, and evidence suggests that he simply didn’t want
to be involved in another controversial title fight for legitimate
reasons. The motivation for Rickard’s reluctance stemmed from his
experience promoting the Johnson-Jeffries fight in 1910. That year, he
had pulled every available financial and political string to make the
historic fight happen, even moving the event from California to Nevada
when California’s governor barred the match. His reward was to witness
race riots following the event and to be among those blamed. He
abandoned boxing for the next six years.
It’s easy for us to look 90 years into past and cast judgment. And
are we so superior today with boxing in its post-decline? Not to mention
the four years waiting for an African-American champion to grant a
Filipino his rightful challenge? Big as boxing had become in 1921,
Rickard and the promoters were still at the mercy of political winds.
Even if the fight ended fair and square for either boxer, race relations
were bad enough so that no one knew what the public reaction might be.
There was a lot at stake, a great deal of money to lose, a social and
political cost, and possibly jail. Race riots were not going to be an
option.
Harry Takes the High Road in Low Country
Though Wills was black, he was not without means, money and
popularity. Suing your way into a fight without promoters may have been
like suing the stock market for not going up, but it got Wills’ case on
record. In the meantime, there were many other fighters other than Wills
in competition for Dempsey’s title, and the contenders battled one
another for position. But Wills and his manager Paddy Mullins choose not
to fight and thus eliminate any of his leading rivals including Tommy
Gibbons, Billy Miske, Georges Carpentier, Jim Maloney, Harry Greb, Young
Stribling, and Jack Delaney, none of whom drew the color line. Even
Gene Tunney offered in 1925. Rickard may not have wanted to take
chances, but Wills didn’t want to take chances either. By helping to
keep Dempsey in court instead of the ring—Wills also sued to stop both
the Dempsey-Firpo and Tunney fights—Wills may further have dimmed his
own prospects.
Shelby and The Wild Bull
1922 came to a close without a Jack Dempsey fight. Money was being
lost and the champion and his manager Doc Kearns got fed up. They
traveled west in 1923 to promote a title fight without Rickard, and far
from the legal melee. Montana businessman Roy J. Molumby, offered
Dempsey and Kearns a $100,000 cash advance for a fight between the
champion and the contender Tommy Gibbons. The infamous Dempsey-Gibbons
fight got Dempsey back in the ring, where he won a 15-round decision.
But the event resulted in a financial bust, sending the town of Shelby
into bankruptcy. Lesson learned, Dempsey and Kearns returned to New
York.
Meanwhile, the Argentine heavyweight, Luis Angel Firpo, had come to
the U.S. and replaced Wills as top contender with a string of savage
knockouts. Firpo was a wrecking machine in the ring and his knockout of
former champion Jess Willard had created a sensation. Firpo was matched
with Dempsey and the champion prevailed in their historic two-round war
at the Polo Grounds in New York City, September 14, 1923. In the months
following the fight, Dempsey broke relations with manager Kearns,
acquiring yet another legal adversary. For the next three years,
champion Jack Dempsey was a celebrity, a court defendant, and a
mismanaged boxer.
Wills and Firpo
In 1924, Wills was offered a golden opportunity. He accepted an offer
to fight the feared Luis Firpo, who had nearly dethroned Dempsey a year
before. Promoted by Tex Rickard, Wills and Firpo met at Boyles Thirty
Acres, New Jersey, on September 11, 1924. Jack Dempsey was at ringside.
This intriguing matchup has largely been lost to history.
Both Wills and Firpo were knockout artists of roughly the same size.
Firpo was slightly heavier and an inch taller than Wills. The Times
Daily reported the odds at all but even on the day of the fight. The
fight went the full 15 rounds to end in a no-decision contest. The newspapers including the Quebec Daily Telegraph hailed Wills as a
winner who “took almost every round and in the second round floored his
opponent.” In front of an audience 75,000, it was the highest profile
fight of Wills’ career. But while the fight put Wills in the spotlight,
it also put him under the microscope. After three years campaigning as
top contender, some witnesses were not impressed. The Milwaukee Journal
headlined, “Harry Wills No Match for Champion Dempsey. Wills general
ability as a fighter would not be sufficiently high to stand the
champion off. Firpo not only telegraphs his wallops, but sends a letter
of warning…but Dempsey doesn’t telegraph. His punches come from a short
distance and behind them lurk oblivion.”
Jack and Harry Sign Again
There’s no doubt that Wills deserved a title fight, and even Dempsey
expressed his regrets at not having the fight to set the record
straight. The two respected each other. It was an injustice to Wills and
to history. But while Dempsey’s persona was larger than life, control
over his career was with Kearns and Rickard. It wasn’t his decision to
make. He deferred to his managers for nearly all business matters, and
if Dempsey lobbied, as he did to fight Wills in 1922, Rickard would talk
him out of it. There is no indication in any testimony that Dempsey was
afraid of Wills. No better proof of this came than when Dempsey and
Wills signed to fight for the second time.
By March 1925, the New York Commission had reversed its position on
sanctioning a Dempsey-Wills match. The Commission now declared Wills as
Dempsey’s mandatory challenger and threatened to place Dempsey on the
ineligible list if he did not comply. The Associated Press reported on
July 17, 1925, that Dempsey appeared before the New York Licensing
Commission and formally accepted Wills’ challenge. With Kearns now out
of the picture, Dempsey was managing himself. On his own, with a new
promoter, Dempsey made a genuine good faith effort to be matched with
Wills.
Show Me The Money
Midwestern promoter Floyd Fitzsimmons, who had produced Dempsey-Miske
fight in 1920, proposed a Dempsey-Wills fight to be held in Michigan
City, Indiana. Dempsey was guaranteed $1,000,000 for the fight with
$300,000 due upon signing. Dempsey accepted the offer. On September 28,
1925, Wills, Dempsey, the promoter and investors met for the contract
ceremony. The event made headlines. Wills received a check for $50,000.
Fitzsimmons told Dempsey he would get his check the following day. The
next morning, Dempsey accompanied Fitzsimmons to the bank, ready to
receive the down payment. Fitzsimmons handed Dempsey a check not for
$300,000 but only $25,000. “It’s all I got right now, but there’s plenty
more where that came from,” said Fitzsimmons. Still willing to proceed,
Dempsey asked for cash instead: “I want to see this in green…and when
you give me the other two-seven-five, I’ll give you the contract.
Signed.” As the tellers counted out the cash, the issuing bank was
called and reported back that the Fitzsimmons account was empty. The
check bounced. Fitzsimmons couldn’t even deliver one dime of a down
payment. Dempsey walked. Not only had the fight fallen through again,
but now Dempsey was no longer licensed to fight in New York.
The Panther Cries Wolf
The heavyweight division continued to shake out; Tunney, Maloney,
Delaney, Wills, Sharkey, Uzcundun and others were now in contention. In
early 1926, Wills was offered $250,000 to fight Gene Tunney in a title
eliminator, with the winner to meet the champion. Wills turned it down.
Wills believed that fighting Dempsey was now a matter of entitlement. It
was fateful decision. A Wills-Tunney fight may have changed the course
of events. In any case the Tunney-Dempsey match was then scheduled.
Still there seemed no end to the claims, even as the Dempsey-Tunney
fight approached. On August 6, 1926, the Evening Independent reported
that a Chicago matchmaker, Doc Krone, announced that a $300,000 check
was waiting for Dempsey in a Chicago bank. On August 22, the Telegraph
Herald reported that Wills’ manager Paddy Mullins tried to bluff Dempsey
once more into a contract, and then reportedly “failed to come forward
with $150,000” saying, “We’ll post the money immediately if Dempsey will
sign to fight Wills before September 23.” It was all too late. The
public wanted Dempsey back, and he was in the ring with Gene Tunney
three weeks later.
Then everything changed. Dempsey lost in an upset to Tunney, who then
became champion. In October, Wills himself returned to the ring. At
Brooklyn National League Park, a young and hungry Dempsey-esque
heavyweight named Jack Sharkey brought Wills’ winning streak to an end.
According to Time magazine, “Sharkey chopped and hacked at Wills, closed
his eye, made his mouth bleed; all through the fight.” Wills reportedly
backhanded, butted, and hit Sharkey during the breaks in an effort to
discourage his opponent. After numerous warnings by the referee, Wills
was disqualified in the 13th round. Wills soldiered on for several more
fights, but retired from boxing in 1932 and became a successful real
estate investor.
Discovering The Films
For decades, the only surviving public footage of Wills in action was
the short, and incriminating, film of his 4th-round knockout by Paulino
Uzcundun in 1927. Issued by Official Films as part of a series called
Monarchs of The Ring, the 38-year-old Wills is seen clubbed to the
canvas in what was his last fight as a contender. It’s no measure of his
skills. I’ve interviewed several leading film collectors about
additional surviving footage of Wills, but nothing had been verified for
many years. However, I did locate several newsreels highlighting
footage of Wills posing for the cameras before the Firpo fight. They
provide a glimpse of his size and stance, but little else. Then, a rare
breakthrough. Footage recently surfaced of Wills and Firpo in mid-fight,
plus training footage, and 1st-round action against Irish Bartley
Madden in 1924.
The Restoration
Though only a few minutes long, the footage of Wills and Luis Firpo
is remarkably well preserved, and while the film of Wills-Madden is
poor, the action is clear. The Wills-Firpo footage suffers jump cuts and
gate slipping. I re-edited the shots into a new sequence and adjusted
the speed and exposure. The Milwaukee Journal’s assessment that Dempsey
need not “be cautious about meeting Wills in the ring” turns out to have
some validity. The footage shows Wills’ defensive style, but without
Jack Johnson’s speed or ability to control a fight. Wills’ greatest
assets may have been his size and strength. Though Firpo was strong, and
slightly larger than Wills, he displays none of the tenacity he did
against Jack Dempsey. Firpo throws, with little accuracy, one overhand
right after the other. Wills slips them with ease, but otherwise has no
tactical answer of his own, and the two spend most of the time dragging
one another around in clinches. The footage also includes the much-noted
2nd-round knockdown where “Wills floored Firpo with a right to the jaw.
When Firpo arose Wills swarmed him with a flock of rights” reported
United Press. The film tells its own version. The knockdown actually
comes as Wills hits Firpo on the break. Firpo is more surprised than
hurt and recovers quickly, as the two struggle for punching room. Wills
was 35 years old, (Firpo was 30), but even a 35-year-old healthy,
trained and experienced boxer will show flashes of youth for the first
few rounds. This 1st- and 2nd-round action suggests that Wills was
either a very slow starter, or as Firpo said, he was “more of a wrestler
than a boxer.”
In the second film, Irish veteran Bartley Madden, who had also fought
Harry Greb, Gene Tunney, Fred Fulton, and Tommy Gibbons, brought
respectable ring experience. He was good enough to draw with Bill
Brenan, and I show clip of his KO of George Christian in 1923. The
Wills-Madden fight footage is dark and lacks detail, but the picture is
steady, and the action is clear. Wills won a 15-round decision. But even
in this losing effort, Madden exposes some of Wills’ weakness. Wills,
the much bigger man, stalks aggressively, but Madden, who was only
5’11”, appeared able to close the distance and hit Wills with relative
ease. This would have been fatal against Dempsey.
Dempsey and Wills were a lot closer in size than has often been
suggested. At approximately 210 pounds, Wills was about 20 pounds
heavier on average than Dempsey, but only one inch taller. In an article
I wrote for boxing.com (“A Duel in the Sun”)
is a film of Jack Dempsey sparring with Big Bill Tate in 1919. Hired by
Doc Kearns in 1918, Tate had become a chief sparring partner in the
Dempsey camp, where he remained until 1927. At 6’6”, he was vital in
preparing Dempsey to fight Jess Willard. Tate was an African-American
who was also an experienced contender, and his experience included five
fights with Harry Wills, including one DQ win, two close decision losses
and a draw. In viewing the clips of Wills and Tate, it’s striking how
similar in style and technique they were. Had a Dempsey-Wills fight
actually gone forward, Tate would have provided a great tactical
advantage. And one has to wonder, what does it say that one man’s
opponent is another man’s sparring partner?
A Panther in Winter
In Roger Khan’s excellent biography of Jack Dempsey, he observes that
while the skills of Georges Carpentier have dimmed over the decades,
the skills of Harry Wills have grown. He also quotes Trainer Ray Arcel
in describing Wills as “a very good journeyman.” Arcel, who had
apprenticed with Wills’ trainer Dai Dollings, also told referee Arthur
Mercante, “Wills was big and none too fast. It was a terrible injustice
that Wills never got a title shot, but those big, slower guys were made
to order for Dempsey.” The sportswriter James P. Dawson, who wrote for
The New York Times, testified after Wills’ loss to Sharkey, “None who
saw last night’s battle can doubt that Dempsey would have annihilated
Wills four years ago, three years ago, or a year ago.”
References:
Roger Kahn “A Flame of Pure Fire”
Jack Cavanaugh “Tunney – Boxing’s Brainiest Champ”
Arthur Mercante “Inside The Ropes”
The New York Times
Time Magazine
The Times Daily
Alton Evening Telegraph
The Evening Independent
The Milwaukee Journal
The Quebec Daily Telegraph
The Telegraph-Herald
Rochester Evening Journal
The Border Cities Star
