Foreword by Dwight
Would you spar with the President of the United States? Which one? Clinton? Bush? What about the rotund Roosevelt? Well, Professor Mike Donovan was an avid sparring partner of President Roosevelt in the late 1800s. He wrote a book about his experiences in 1909, titled "The Roosevelt That I Know". Mike Donovan was considered one the best practitioners of the sweet science at the time. This section discusses another boxer at the time, John Sullivan.
I meet young John L. Sullivan
It was in the fall of 1879, after my return from California, that I went to Boston to fill an engagement at the Howard Athenaeum Theater. One afternoon while I was sitting reading in my room a young man by the name of John Sullivan, known as the "Highland Strong Boy, ' ' was introduced to me by a friend. After we had talked for a while about fighting-men, and I had a chance to look him over, I said, "You are a rugged, strong young fellow." This seemed to please him, although he was very modest in his remarks. However, he seemed to have a grudge against Paddy Eyan, who was the most promising candidate for the championship at that time. I asked him why, and he said, "I happened to be in the theater once when Eyan and Joe Goss were boxing. Eyan struck Goss when he was down, and he refused to continue. I offered to take Goss's place, but Eyan said, 'You go get a reputation first.' "Sullivan never forgot that remark. He said if he ever got a chance he believed he would make a good showing, and added, "I think I can hit as hard as any of them, and I know I am game, too." I rather liked the young fellow's manner of expressing himself, and said to Jim Elliott, who was in Boston with me at the time, "That young fellow Sullivan, in my opinion, will make a champion someday. He is a determined-looking fellow. He has asked me to give him some pointers, and I intend to box with him tomorrow up in my bedroom." Elliott, who was a very jealous fellow, said, "You get stuck on every man you see." He could not bear to hear any man spoken well of in his presence. I replied, "I think you are jealous." (I took great pleasure in teasing him on account of his evident jealousy.) Elliott retorted,' ' What ! jealous of that mug V ' " Well, ' ' I said, "maybe all of us may be taking off our hats to him some day." Elliott and I were arranging big boxing exhibitions, and Sullivan wanted me to put his name on the bill. He said he would box with anybody. I thought well of him, and asked Elliott to give him a show, but he refused. I told Sullivan that Elliott would not consent to having his name connected with our exhibition. Here Sullivan made a remark that I have never forgotten. "Well, someday maybe they will all be glad to put my name on their bills." A prediction which, as everyone knows, came true.
An abscess forming on my left elbow, I was unable to keep my engagement to box with Sullivan, as I had promised, and had to return home for treatment. When I thought I had recovered again, I made an engagement to return to Boston to box at the Howard Athenaeum Theater. I was matched to fight George Eook for the middle-weight championship with bare knuckles. The fight was to be held in Canada. In Boston I was to box Tom Drone nightly during the week. Tom was a very good local boxer. It was customary at that time to give the star a benefit on Friday night. I had to look around for some good man to box with me on that occasion, and I thought of Sullivan. I went to him and said, ' ' Sullivan, you have told me that none of the big fellows will give you a chance to show what you can do. If you will box with me on Friday night and make a good showing I will take you to New York with me during my training for Eook, and after my fight with him is over I will match you with Paddy Ryan or any of the big fellows."
He jumped at the chance. Friday evening came and Sullivan was on hand. The news got about that there would be a fight worth seeing, and a big house was the consequence. When I saw him stripped I realized that Sullivan was one of the best men physically that I had ever seen. Like all well-made men, he looked bigger with his clothes off than at any other time. He was, at that time, a big, raw-boned fellow and carried absolutely no superfluous flesh. He had a tremendous trunk and arms, and was very wide and flexible in the shoulders. His legs were lighter in proportion than the rest of his body. This accounted for the wonderful speed that he displayed.
Before we went on I said to him, commandingly, "Here, young fellow, you go in there and dress," pointing to a side dressing-room. He said, "All right, ' ' in his deep, gruff voice. Dick Fitzgerald, the manager of the theater, went into his room and said, "What are you going to do?" Sullivan replied, in his bass rumble, "Why, the best man wins." Fitzgerald then came into my dressing-room and told me. "He'll get what lots of other big fellows have got," I replied. We came on the stage, stripped for the event. I kept glaring at Sullivan, but he did not seem to be the least bit uneasy, as most young fellows would be under the circumstances. When time was called I sailed right in to intimidate him at the outset if possible, for it is a well-known fact that boxers, like actors, often suffer from stage fright when first they face a big crowd.
Sullivan, far from being intimidated, rushed at me like a panther. He forgot the fact that he was facing a champion before a crowded house, being inspired by his fighting instinct alone. This, I will admit, disconcerted me for a moment. I had a true fighting man before me. We mixed it for a time, but I soon felt that such a course would be a dangerous one for me to pursue, as he was quick as a cat and very strong. In fact he was the strongest man I had ever met, and I had boxed nearly every big man of reputation up to that time, Paddy Eyan included, and was considered the cleverest man in the ring. I suppose if I hadn't been my goose would have been cooked that night, for never in my life did I have to do such clever ducking and side-stepping. I proved my cleverness by avoiding a knock-out in the first round. After a hard round he slowed up, being somewhat tired from the tremendously fast pace he had gone. Of course, most of his blows went wild of the mark, and you can rest assured that the mark in question was my head.
His strength and speed tired me, and I fought the second round rather cautiously, but kept him busy by feinting and drawing his rush, each time side-stepping and trying to tire him out, which I succeeded in doing. We fought four rounds, and never before in all my life did I feel so exhausted and tired ; and, big and strong as Sullivan was, he seemed as tired as I. Of course, he wasted more strength than I by his great efforts. I broke the wrist bone of my right hand in the third round, and also got my thumb out of joint. These injuries bothered me a great deal during the rest of the bout. However, I still thought I had him, as I felt he was tiring rapidly. When the fourth round came I kept jabbing him in the face with my left. He used his right hand as a blacksmith would use a sledge-hammer pounding a piece of iron into shape. This blow afterward became famous. He hit me on top of the head several times, and his blows made me see stars of different colors. Only one who has had a like experience can appreciate my feelings at that moment—fighting a comparatively unknown man who had practically nothing to lose, while I had my reputation at stake and was laboring under the handicap of a broken right hand. The fourth round ended with honors even, though I think I had slightly the better of it. As I lay in bed that night, nursing my sore hand, and thought it all over, I felt far from satisfied with myself, but finally concluded that I had just fought the coming champion of the prize-ring. My hand pained me greatly all night. In the morning I obtained relief by going to a doctor and having it set in splints. On returning to my hotel it seemed to me that every Irishman who lived on Boston Highlands, the location of Sullivan's home, was there waiting for me. There were at least fifty in all. They plied me with all kinds of questions as to what I thought of the young fellow, and to all I replied that, in my mind, he was the coming champion and a fine strong fellow. I never will forget what one old man said: "I have known his father and mother for many years, and decent people they are, too. Johnny was always a strong gossoon, and I always thought he had the makings of a good man." The bar of the hotel was doing a big business. My shins became rather numb standing against it, when, to my great relief, Sullivan came in, and thereby afforded me a chance to slip away from his admirers and friends. This was the beginning of Sullivan's career.
Others have claimed they brought him out, but the man who tries a man out and risks his reputation in so doing is entitled to the credit. I am sure Sullivan will vouch for everything I say in this matter. It was immediately after his bout with me that he became a great card. After this go with Sullivan I returned home and, although my hand was very sore, started to train for my fight with Rook, thinking that it would be well in time for the fight, which was three months off. I was doomed to disappointment, as it did not entirely mend for a year. The following year, 1881, I returned to Boston to box Sullivan again; we met in a music hall and had three tough rounds. This bout caused such a bad feeling between us that we did not speak for three or four years.
Musings
This is a very curious story between Donovan and Sullivan. You would have thought they would have been friends. It makes you wonder what happened during that last fight that would have caused such bad blood.
It was particularly noble of Donovan to give the young Sullivan a chance in the ring. All people just need an opportunity to show what they can do. Abraham Lincoln posed it best when he said, "I will prepare and someday my chance will come". Every martial artist can take this to heart, if they are participating in any competition. Prepare until you have that opportunity, have that chance to show what you can do.
References:
Donovan, Michael Joseph. The Roosevelt That I Know; Ten Years of Boxing with the President--and Other Memories of Famous Fighting Men,. New York: B.W. Dodge, 1909. https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=x7QaAAAAYAAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA8&dq=boxing&ots=MYv8NVrKwf&sig=N21fmrbbSTU8P3S0scqcxphbg9M
