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Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by cmoyle Mon 03 Oct 2011, 2:05 am
The following are a sampling of interesting articles that appeared in U.S. newspapers the week of Stanley Ketchel's death. These were mined from a scrapbook of hundreds of articles that his friend "Battling" Nelson compiled just after his murder:
Memphis Courier 10-17-1910
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Bright Lights Ruined Ketchel. Success and Dazzle Made Wreck of Boxer.
Stanley Ketchel, the only champion in history who lost the title and then returned by knocking the daylights out of the man who wrested the crown from him, is gone, and with him went one of the greatest natural fighters the world ever saw – and the white lights which wriggle and squirm as a snake up the thoroughfare known as Broadway are mostly responsible. One glimpse of those scintillating, glistening sparks which hide the artificiality of the big street and exhilarate to the extent of causing folks who do not live within their sordid, make-believe light imagine they are enjoying themselves.
Though not a scholar, “Steve,” as he was called around Butte, was an intelligent youngster, and while a bit rude when he was wearing a pair of boxing gloves, didn’t do much cutting-up, except in a harmless way.
When he first returned East to Milwaukee and nearly jarred Billy Papke from his jaw, he was still the rough-and-ready youngster whom Freddie Bogan put into the game in Butte. Success, however proved rough on Steve. Instead of permitting the kid to go along in his good-natured way, some of the wise folks inserted the automobile bug into his bean; others handed him the talk that real sports only drink, the joy booze which contains the imprisoned smiles of the peasant girls of France. Answer: Next time they met Papke, at Los Angeles, gave him the worst beating of his career. Everybody said that it was the finish of Ketchel. Next time Steve got into condition and kicked fourteen kinds of daylight through Papke, and gave him another lacing later on.
Willus Britt – High Life
Then came Willus Britt as manager and guide. Willus was unhappy unless stirring up a bit of high life, and he carried Ketchel along with him. They went to New York, and the blaze of lights fascinated the ingenious youth and he began to get to the wrong side of the physical ledger.
He slowed up, but continued to show flashes of that form which game him the name of the “Michigan Assasin.” That slashing left and right with the awkward shift worked now and then, but Ketchel seemed to lack the dash and fire of old. Britt, in one of his dreamy moments, matched his pal against Jack Johnson. The fight was a joke. While Ketchel was a long way from himself, nevertheless the idea of throwing a small middleweight against a big heavyweight was allowed to go through.
Mizner Helped Along
Some one once remarked that a good big man could always lick a good little man. Ketchel was licked, and then he began to slip back. His last manager was Wilson Mizner, whose chief claim to fame is that he for a while was the husband of the widow of Charles T. Yerkes, the Chicago and London traction magnate. Mizner carried Ketchel along from the spot Britt left him, and the greatest middleweight since Dempsey and Fitzsimmons lost his health and attributes staring at the lights that glitter the most glittering after nightfall, gazing in rapture at the artificial world that lives in a land of trying to appear what it is not.
Broken in health with scant chance of returning to the ring as the wonderful fighter the pugilistic world knew and admired. Ketchel went back to his old life to seek health in the open air and among the horses and cattle. Instead of health, he found death.
He called down a man for beating a horse, and that led to his tragic end. Can more be said of the natural instincts of a youth who was a demon in the ring, but a dodger of trouble out of it?
Philadelphia Public Ledger 10-17-1910
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PITIFUL END OF STANLEY KETCHEL
Was a Credit to the American Ring and Deserved a Better Fate
Those who knew Stanley Ketchel, the recognized middleweight champion of the world, immediately are grieved over his untimely end. The writer knew him personally and was one of his greatest admirers. Ketchel lived a clean life, was always moderate in his habits and in all was a credit to the ring. He has frequently been alluded to as a big, blushing schoolboy, as he was always modest even amid his greatest victories. The public should suspend its condemnation of the man until the real truth be known. Ketchel, with his amiable disposition, would shrink from insulting any one; on the contrary, he would be quick to resent an insult to the opposite sex. The Montana Cowboy, as he was always alluded to, although having been born in Grand Rapids, Mich., was 23 years old on September 14. It is the writer’s belief that there was not a man in the entire world of his pounds and inches who could beat the Western man when Ketchel was himself. He had a peculiarly open style of boxing, an awkward defense and could hit a knockout punch with either hand.
After Ketchel had waded through all the middleweights, beating Joe Thomas, Billy Papke and even the elusive, clever Jack O’Brien in a decisive fashion, like Alexander, he had no other foes to conquer. Both Sam Langford and Jack Johnson were dangled before his eyes. At a little conference between Ketchel, Willus Britt, his manager, and the writer in this city, Ketchel was advised that if he intended to drop the color line and fight a Negro, to fly for the highest game and tackle Johnson. He was told that he had a fighting chance with either man, and that was all. The result of the Johnson – Ketchel bout is a matter of history, but the game, plucky, aggressive middleweight made a far better showing against the big heavyweight than did either Tommy Burns or Jeffries. In fact, Ketchel was the first man to knock Johnson down since the big Negro became a pugilistic star.
Many have been led to believe that the defeat by Johnson just one year ago caused Ketchel to lose faith in himself and lead him to dissipate. There is no ground for any such belief. The real reason for his indifference to his physical condition was the untimely death of Willus Britt. These two men were inseperable. No pugilist and his manager were ever so close as Ketchel and Britt. When the young boy manager died, the great middleweight was overcome with grief.
For a time he lost all interest in the world and himself. Suddenly all the latent ambition he possessed was awakened. The world’s heavyweight championship was his goal. He started a systematic building up of the neglected muscles and tissues and his visit to the Western ranch was but the beginning of a new Stanley Ketchel. The world will remember him as a man who always fought on the level, always to win, and who never was guilty of a mean act during his entire ring career.
Chicago American 10-17-1910
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KETCHEL DIED AS HE LIVED; CAREER WILD by Ed Smith
It is not surprising, after all, that Stanley Ketchel should have run into trouble of the sort he found in Missouri. While the famous Pole was not a man of an ugly or quarrelsome disposition, he never was known to dodge a scrap, and lived in a seething atmosphere of disquietude and contention.
Stanley lived and breathed the air of the West, no matter where he happened to be. He began his public career in the toughest section of the country, fighting in many a contest in Montana with the most desperate characters in the universe jostling one another at the ringside. Early he learned what it meant to have to be game, for in that section of the country they are prone to cutting the hearts out of quitters when the occasion arises.
Grew Up Among Fighters
The young man began a long fighting career in this environment, and it is little wonder, with his natural taste for such things, that he should have had a finish such as befell him in Missouri.
Ketchel liked to play the gentleman, too, and was one of the best dressers of all the ring stars, not excepting Jack O’Brien of Philadelphia. He was intensely eccentric at all times, however, and his wonderful effects brought out by some of his cowboy toggery caused the young fighter to be the talk of every big city in which he stopped during the height of his career.
Never was this eccentricity in the matter of dress more marked than just before the time he was matched to fight Jack Johnson out on the Pacific coast. He came through Chicago with a rig that would have made anybody else a subject for hooting on the street. His enormously high heeled boots and an overcoat with padded shoulders that made him a regular Sandow or Hackenschmidt in size brought every eye on the street in his direction.
Wanted to be Big Fellow
It was plain that Ketchel then wished to be known as a “big fellow” because he sought the black gladiator’s scalp. On account of his size many scoffed at him for aspiring to take on Johnson and for that reason he tried to carry out the idea that he was getting bigger all the time.
His showing with Johnson in the ring in the Far West was a sorry exhibition. He proved so small alongside of the champion that it looked to be a shame to send him in for the licking that surely was his. But Ketchel’s own ego and his natural gameness dictated to him and his manager, Willus Britt, who died soon afterward, that he had a grand chance with Johnson. He was knocked out in the twelfth round and never afterward put up any sort of a showing.
Becomes Physical Wreck
The defeat seemed to crush Ketchel in more ways than one, and when he tangled up with Wilson Mizner, who undertook the management of him a short time after Britt’s death and after several others had failed in the job, Stanley started on a career of pleasure in the metropolis that left him finally a physical wreck.
He came West to recuperate, and announced several times that he did not intend to fight any more. Several fight promoters and managers attempted to get him to change his mind without success. Only Saturday a letter was received by the American from Al Lippe, a New York manager, in which he told of his failure to get Ketchel for a European tour that he is about to undertake with Harry Lewis as his chief star. Too bad, for the middleweight champion now sleeps the sleep that knows no awakening.
Butte Montana Mountain – 10-17-1910
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Stanley Ketchel’s Tragic End Causes Regret Here
Middleweight Champion’s Assassination Proves That He Had Many Friends in Butte Who Liked Him Personally And Admired His Ability
Butte’s sporting fraternity was greatly shocked and grieved Saturday night, when the news flashed over the wires, that Stanley Ketchel, middleweight champion of the world, and one of the greatest and gamest fighters ever in that division, died from the effects of an assassin’s bullet, in Springfield, Mo. He died as he lived, game and fighting to the end, and refused to surrender or concede defeat, even when his opponent was armed with a rifle, from which he received the death wound, when he refused to throw up his hands as commanded by Walter Dipley, better known as Walter A. Hurtz. In his long and brilliant ring career, Ketchel often encountered and overcame what looked like overwhelming odds, but this time he failed and it cost him his life.
Peculiar Coincidences
That Ketchel should be known in the ring as the “Michigan Assassin,” owing to his grand fighting ability, and then die at the hands of an assassin is a peculiar coincidence, but stranger yet is the fact that he should terminate his career on Oct. 15, when on Oct. 16, 1909, he was knocked out by Jack Johnson in a battle for the world’s championship, at Colma, Cal., after twelve rounds of fighting, this showing that the two most important events in his eventful career occurred almost at the same time of the month, one year apart. Ketchel’s two ambitions were to become heavyweight champion of the world and to live a long life.
Unfortunately he failed in both. His defeat at the hands of Jack Johnson is stated to have been the cause of Willie Britt’s death and that indomitable spirit of Ketchel, who would not give up against any odds, brought his own life to an early and unexpected close. Since his defeat at the hands of Jack Johnson, Ketchel had not been the same. He went into the ring with the grand colored fighter, feeling certain that he could outpunch and out game the colored man, but the Negro proved too strong and clever for the great white lad. That defeat almost broke Ketchel’s stout heart, and he has never been the same since. His one desire was to meet Jack Johnson again, in an effort to retrieve that defeat. He went to the ranch of R.P. Dickerson at Springfield, Mo., for the purpose of resting up and taking on weight, so that he could met Johnson on more even terms if they ever got into the ring again, but now his hopes and ideas will never be carried out.
Well Liked Here
Kethel, like everyone else had some enemies, but he left many friends in Butte, who cherish nothing but the kindest feelings towards the former Butte resident. Ketchel won their friendship and admiration by his game and willing fighting, and when he went into the ring it was to win. He asked no odds and never begged for quarter. No matter how bad the fight was going against him, he never quit and would continue a battle with great desperation when he appeared defeated. This he showed to Butte people in his bouts with Maurice Thompson in this city, and he proved it to the world when he was defeated by Billy Papke in San Francisco. Ketchel was practically out in the second round of that fight, yet he continued in the battle until the twelfth round on his nerve and gameness alone, as he was so weak and tired that he could not hurt Papke under any conditions. That Papke did not possess the gameness and unconquerable spirit of Ketchel was shown in that battle, and again when they fought a twenty round bout, which Papke could have won with a knockout, had he been willing to take a chance and mix matters, as Ketchel was all in during the last five rounds, but again outgamed Papke.
Learned the Game Here
Ketchel came to Butte a “green” farmer’s boy, and he knew little of the ways of the world. He was given a chance in a preliminary in this city, and showed such promise that he was given many fights and improved with each battle. He was always willing and ready to meet any man in the ring and never cared or asked how much the other fellow weighed or how good he was. After winning several good fights in Butte and several other Montana cities he went to the coast and in a very short time was at the top of the middleweight heap, mainly because of his victories over Joe Thomas, who was then a California idol and considered invincible. While in Butte he was under the management of Freddie Bogan, who undoubtedly deserves great credit for Ketchel’s success, as he taught the middleweight champion all the rudiments of the game, which with his later experience in the ring, made him the best man in his class.
An Old Letter
In looking over some old papers yesterday I discovered a letter from Ketchel, dated April 25, 1908, which was written just before his fight with Jack “Twin” Sullivan, whom he knocked out in twenty rounds on May 9, 1908. In that letter Ketchel expresses that great confidence which made him the terror of all middleweights, and shows why he was so hard to defeat. He was just at the start of his career at that time, and showed that same feeling for Butte which he often expressed when he became champion. The letter, in part, follows:
“It is some time since I had a line from you; so I thought I would write to let you know how I am getting on. I am now at Colma training for my fight with Jack “Twin” Sullivan. I am getting in good condition and ma ready for a hard battle. I think I will win from him, but I know he will give me a harder battle than his brother, and I will be in better shape than ever before. My old trainer, Leroy, went to help his old pal, Tommy Sullivan, train for his fight with Abe Attell, and this time Joe Willis, a 190 pounder, is with me. I am getting bigger myself, and must have those big fellows to work with, as the others cannot stand my punches any more. Willis has a big body protector like a catcher wears, and that is the only way he will box with me. Now, Floto, I am fighting at 156 pounds, four hours before the battle, and I am better at that weight than any other, and will be ready for anything he can haout out to me. This time I will demonstrate that I have got more than a “haymaker,” and will show that I am a bit clever myself. Even if I do not say it, I am under cover with a lot of stuff that the wise bunch won’t know I got until this battle is over.
Like Butte
“Some of the paper men are sore at me in this country, but I don’t care. I know at least that the old bunch around Montana are still with me, and I don’t care what the others may thing. Well, Floto, what do you think of the coming battle? Do you think I made a good match or not? I am getting to be a big fellow, and now, I might as well start in with the big fellows, and I think Sullivan is as easy as any other man in the country. Well, Floto, I would like to hear from you and Butte. Give all the bunch my regards, and tell them to have a bet on me, as I am certain on winning, and do not expect much trouble in beating Sullivan.”
Walter Dipley, alias Walter A. Hurtz, was captured early yesterday morning at the ranch of Thomas Haggard, where he applied for food and a place to sleep, having become exhausted from his trip through the woods trying to avoid capture. After being placed under arrest he admitted his identity, but claimed that he killed Ketchel in self-defense, because the fighter would not throw up his hands when commanded. He also stated that Ketchel insulted Goldie Smith, with whom Dipley was living as man and wife.
Funeral services were held in the Elks’ club at Springfield yesterday and the body shipped to Grand Rapids, Mich., accompanied by Dickerson, for burial. Butte friends intended taking up a collection to buy flowers for Ketchel, but owing to the shortness of the time this plan was abandoned, although more than $100 could have been secured within an hour.
Philadelphia, Pa. Times 10-18-1910
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Ketchel Was One Real Champion
by Fred Ford
Stanley Ketchel, the greatest fighting flesh of his pounds who ever taped a fist for a ring battle, has been murdered on a ranch in the west and the game loses its greatest little gladiator and the favorite fighter of the American public as a consequence.
This reckless, fearless ring god was but a child of the western cattle range, who left to his own ends, would have branded long horns until he pillowed his head beneath the stars in the long sleep which knows no awakening.
“Steve,” as those who knew him were permitted to call him, had the most brilliant career of any fighter who ever coupled the world championship to his name. For and one-half rounds was the average of the time his foes lasted before his fists. Jack Johnson, the heavyweight champion was stretched before the drive of the fist of the little Michigander. Three men have knocked Johnson down, Choynski, Ketchel and Langford.
The record of the middleweight chief is too well known to be repeated. His battles have all been sensational. Ketchel was all a champion could be, game, daring, a veritable devil, winning or losing, and he never fought a fake fight.
Stories of His Life
There are some stories about the career of the little wonder which illustrate the greatness of his prowess. Once Billy Papke knocked out the Michigan assassin in eleven rounds in Los Angeles, Cal. Those who saw that fight say that they saw the gamest battle a human ever game to a victorious foe. That while reeling on his feet, so weakened that his hands hung at his side, his face wreathed in a smale, “Steve” fought like a panther until Papke would back away in horror that human flesh could rally so wonderfully on absolutely nothing.
The critics wrote his obit., and said his career as a champion was closed. He begged with tears in his eyes for another chance at Papke. It was granted. Not because he was thought to have a single chance to win, but for financial reasons. The promoter knew Ketchel would fight Papke like a wildcat and tumble to his defeat with a heroism so spectacular it would atone for the sacrifice.
Ketchel went to the mountains. The cafes of Frisco saw nothing more of him. He jumped into the ring with a sparkle in his eye and a hue to his skin that frightened Papke. He knocked out Papke in a corking fight, and was again heralded as the greatest little fellow in the game.
Weighs 149; Fights Texan
Johnny Loftus, of this city, tells some things of the champion which illustrates what a really remarkable fellow the little fighter was without the public knowing the true state of affairs.
The promoters of the Johnson-Ketchel fight announced that Stanley had grown so big that he weighed 188 pounds and that with his increased pounds he would probably fight the Texan off his feet or cross his punch and drop the Golden Smile. Ketchel weighed from 149 to 151 pounds when he entered the ring against the Texan. Johnson was closed to 226 as the beam rises and falls on the scales.
Unknown, the little fellow won from Joe Thomas the welterweight title, and there was no time in his career that he would not have done 142 pounds at 3 o’ clock; then he knocked out Mike and Jack “Twin” Sullivan, of Boston; Hugo Kelly, of Chicago, Billy Papke, of Illinois, Willie Lewis, of New York; Porky Flynn, of Boston; Jim Smith, of Brooklyn, and finally “Philadelphia Jack” O’Brien, the cleverest of the middleweights.
Joe O’Connor, a western photographer, was the man who backed Ketchel in his early fights. Willus Britt, a brother of Jimmy, the lightweight, being done as a star, and Battling Nelson, to his mind, on the wane, went to Ketchel’s home in Grand Rapids, Mich., and brought Ketchel east.
Springfield Missouri Leader – 10-18-1910
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Knew Ketchel in Butte When a Lad
Manager of Miss Nobody Company discusses Career of Middleweight.
Stanley Ketchel was easily the greatest middleweight fighter the sporting world ever saw. Of course he did not excel Bob Fitzsimmons but Ketchel was strictly in the middleweight class while Fitzsimmons took on all regardless of the class they were in. The appellation “Michigan Assassin,” by which Ketchel was known in sporting circles over the world, was well chosen for when he got in one of his terrific smashes it was all over with his opponent.
This is what Charles Donoghue, manager of the “Miss Nobody from Starland” company which showed at the Landers last night thinks of the dead pugilist. Mr. Donoghue had known Ketchel since he was a youth. He first met Ketchel in Butte, Mont., and used to have him in preliminary bouts at prize fights in Butte which were arranged for the entertainment of the miners who worked around there.
“When I was connected with the Montana Bill Posting company at Butte I conceived the idea of making money by putting on a few fights at the old Broadway theater,” said Mr. Donoghue last night. “Ketchel at that time was meeting kids around Butte three and four times a week and he was knocking them all out. I had him several times in preliminary bouts before the main fights. I never paid him more than $25 to appear at the Broadway. He thought this was big money in those days and it made him determined to carve a career in the prize ring.
His First Fights
“The first fight Ketchel ever had that brought him into prominence was at Maryville, Cal., where he knocked out Joe Thomas in thirteen rounds.
“After the Thomas fight, Hugo Kelly, who I confidently believe will wear the middleweight championship belt which was left without a wearer with the death of Ketchel, wanted to meet the Michigan boy. I was manager for Kelly at that time. It was arranged for the fight to be pulled off in ‘Frisco.
“I and others, who were aware of the famous shift of Ketchel which proved the waterloo of so many of his opponents, were very careful in training Kelly. This famous shift that Ketchel had was natural with him. He had a habit of swinging a stiff left one to his opponent and doubling the dose by a terrific punch with the right. He figured that if he missed with his left he would land with his right or if he landed with his left he could follow it up with a quick right.
“Kelly trained carefully for this shift blow of Kelly. He thought he was pretty well onto it after sparring with several before the big fight. He was told to close in on Ketchel when he tried the shift and to give him a smashing blow in the face. It was the rule with the opponents of Ketchel to step back when he made that drive at them. Kelly was coached to rush in instead of stepping back.
Ketchel was “All In.”
“The first two rounds Kelly did well. He rushed in and Ketchel’s shift proved ineffectual. Kelly landed in bout rounds and Ketchel was just about all in. Willus Britt and other fight fans had bets up on Ketchel and they looked sick. They were seen to tear up their tickets and prepare to leave the ringside. Then something happened to cause them to change their minds.
“When Ketchel came back in the third round he was as game as when he began the first round. Kelly to this day doesn’t know why he did it, but nevertheless it cost him that battle. Instead of closing in when Ketchel tried to work his shift, he stepped backward – just the opposite of what he should have done. It was soon over. Ketchel landed and landed hard. Kelly went down before his blows and never came back. The blow Kelly received in that round was the worst he ever experienced. It absolutely paralyzed him.
“It was the only fight Kelly ever had with Ketchel though I always thought he ranked next to Ketchel as the greatest middleweight. The nearest Kelly ever came to fighting Ketchel again was in his fight with Billy Papke. In the third fight Kelly had with Papke which was at Colma in May 1909, the winner was to be matched with Ketchel. Papke sent Kelly down in the first round and Papke got to meet Ketchel.
Always Fought in Open
“Ketchel was one of the cleverest fighters I ever knew. He always fought in the open which made him an easy man to hit but it seems they couldn’t put him out. With all his ability as a fighter, however, I do not believe that he could have whipped Jack Johnson. Ketchel was distinctly a lightweight and would never have been able to put on the weight necessary to be on an equal footing with the big Negro. I want to tell you that Jack Johnson is a huge Negro and it is going to take a huge white man to wrest the championship from him.
“Ketchel was extremely popular on the pacific coast where most of his fights were pulled off and where he was widely known. He had a host of friends out there and his death in Springfield caused much sorrow among them. He was in a class to himself and there was no middleweight who could have knocked him out.
“I believe the championship now lies between Hugo Kelly and Billy Papke. These two men are the best middleweights in the world today and one of them will pick up the belt which the death of Ketchel leaves to be contested for.
Buffalo Express 10-18-1910
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Stirring Life of Ketchel. Dead Champion Had a Rough Row to Hoe Before He Got to Top. Bummed All Over. Most of His Career Confined to the Wild and Wolly in Northwest
Written for The Express by A.H. Beckett
The career of Stanley Ketchel, who met a tragic death at Springfield, Mo., is a most interesting one, and moreover, it was one which Ketchel willingly told himself. He ran away from home when twelve years old, tramped all over the country, finally landing in Montana, where he secured a position as bellhop in a Butte resort. From that he advanced to the position of cowboy and rode herd near Miles City, Mont., and later near Great Falls.
Tiring of life in the saddle, young Ketchel went to Butte and went to work in one of the big copper mines there. He was about eighteen years old at that time, strong and well built and capable of holding his own with any of the many miners of many nationalities that toiled several thousand feet down in the ground.
Ketchel’s Own Story
But let Ketchel tell his own story, as he told it on his last trip East a few months ago, when he was scheduled to fight Bill Lang in New York, but had to call off the battle owing to lack of condition.
“I was born in Grand Rapids,” said Ketchel, in September 24th, 23 years ago. I guess I was a tough kid. I was always trimming someone and would lift anything which wasn’t nailed down. It got so that I was always in trouble, and when anything happened in the neighborhood everybody would lay the blame on poor me. Sometimes I deserved it – occasionally I did not. However, when I was twelve years old I ran away from home.
“I always had the bug to go to Montana and be a cowboy. That’s the first thing I can remember I wanted to do. My chum was another kid, only a little older than myself. He had been on bumming trips before and we agreed to hike for the west and make our fortunes.
“We didn’t have much money. I think my bankroll was between ten and fifteen cents, but we beat our way to Detroit, where my pal had a sister, and we borrowed $2 from her. Then we made our way to the railway yards, jumped a blind and were soon on our way west.
Lost His Pal
“We hadn’t gone far when a copper spied us, and when the train stopped we got off and used our heels. The copper took after Cuba (my chum), but he didn’t catch him. I caught the train when it was ready to pull, but Cuba missed it – and he had the $2. Well, I hit Chicago stony broke. Meals were few and far between for a few days and finally I landed a job in a swell dump of a coffee-house on Van Buren street. I made good there and was put on the night shift. Just about daylight one morning we had finished cleaning up and the cashier – he was the boss’s son – and myself were looking out in front when up drifts the dirties pair of bums you ever set your lamps on. I had to look twice before I recognized my old partner, Cuba. He had a tear-year-old kid with him and they didn’t have a copper.
“We had a bull window full of the fanciest kinds of cakes and pies you ever saw – those high cakes with the icing on them – and Cuba and the kid were looking their heads off at that junk. I flagged him and took him next door, where there was a three-cent, coffee house. Our own joint was too swell for my bankroll.
Trimmed in a Turning Joint
“Every time I got any money I went out and bought something. I wanted to go home andmake some kind of a flash – see? Then – I was a kid, you must remember – I got into a turning joint and they trimmed me. I didn’t have a thing left. I met up with an old bum that wired chairs and we started west.
“This guy was a fast worker, too, and made lots of money. I bored the holes in the chairs and he wired them. We used to make from $3 to $10 a day. We got as far west as Minneapolis is the ‘square’ town, isn’t it? – then, it was Saint Paul where we landed. I list him there and, of course, he had all the dough. That was always my luck. I was a kid and the other fellow always carried the bank roll. So I wandered around town all day without anything to eat and marked a barn where I could sleep that night.
“Well, the cop told me afterward that he used to go in there every morning at 2 o’clock and nab a sleeper. That night he got me. I didn’t have a thing but a pair of crap dice. I was always stuck on shooting craps. When the cop woke me up I was so scared that I took those dice out of my pocket and held them in my hand. I was going to throw them away, but I was too scared.
Uncovered his Dice
“At the station the sergeant wanted to see what was in my hand and I had to show him. But my hands showed that I was a hard worker and I sure did shoot the bull with him. Finally, hetold me to go, but to get out of town in the morning. I got. I caught a train loaded with bums bound for Dakota and we rode as far as Barnesville, Minn., where the brakies found us and chucked us off. I was the littliest of the bunch and I did pretty well on the handouts.
“Well, I got a job as a harvest hand at $2.50 a day. That was big money for a kid, but I made good. Later I was promoted and finally became a fireman at $5 a day. They fired the threshing machines with straw, you know. WhenI got tired of that job I thought I’d hike for Winnipeg. I hadn’t washed all the time I was in the Dakotas – water’s too scarce out there, you know – and between the sun and dust and dirt I was pretty near black.
“I beat my way to Winnipeg and there I signed to work at a railroad camp near Revelstoke, B.C. They thought I was a blacksmith, I was so black and greasy, and I just let it go at that. I only paid $13.50 for a ride of nearly 2,000 miles, but when I got to Revelstoke, nine miles from the railroad camp, I just dropped off. I got to thinking what they’d do to me when they found I wasn’t a blacksmith and figured that they would just about kill me. I knew there were tough people up there, for I was about fourteen years old then.
Bug to Be a Miner
“I got the bug to be a miner and someone told me of the mines near Victoria, so I started in that direction. I never did get where I wanted to go. I got broke and had to walk back over the railroads and stage lines that I’d paid money to ride on. I met an Irishman and he told me that I was too small for the mines, so we bummed around together for a while. Then I lost him.
“It’s a funny thing. A long time afterward I was sitting in the back room of a saloon. I had taken a lot of stuff out of my pockets and was reading it over. You know that’s the way with bums. We’d have our pocket filled with timetables and maps and postcards and letters from home and then when we had nothing else to do we’d sit down and read them. Well, I was looking them over when this little Irishman saw that I had a card from Revelstoke and we got acquainted again.
“Then I worked in a sawmill, riding logs. They gave us straw to sleep on, but you could buy blankets at the commissary. I got a couple of beauts and never asked the price. Later when I found they cost $12 each I made them take them back. I’d have been working out there yet to pay for those blankets the way they robbed us. That was at Arrowhead, B.C. Finally I got tired of that hard work and poor grub and small pay and hit the trail for Revelstoke again.
“I hid in a toolbox under to Vancouver – one jump of 500 miles. I had a blanket and a rifle I had stolen in the toolbox with me.
On Vancouver Island
A dozen similar episodes of hobo life brought Ketchel to Ladysmith, a coal mining city on Vancouver Island. He landed there, broke, as usual.
“I don’t know how I did get to Victoria. It was an awful trip and like a bad dream.”
In Victoria he peddled his rifle for $4 and paid $2 for a ride to Seattle. At Seattle, after spending what he had left, he and a young fellow he had picked up determined to beatit out on a freight. “We got locked in a fruit car,” he said, “and the car was side tracked. We beat on the door two days before anyone let us out. I had only a razer and couldn’t cut my way out with that.”
He was on his way to Montana to carry out the long-cherished ambition to be a cowboy. At Hope, Idaho, he was put off. He got to work on a section gang, carrying ties. “But that work was too tough for me. The tired weighed 250 pounds and I was only a kid.” He caught a freight for Butte, Mont., but at Silver Bow, a few miles out, “a lot of us bums were put off and had to walk in.”
Of his experiences in Butte, where he lived for years, he declared that “I was three months without seeing a bed, missing a meal or having a nickel.”
He told of his efforts to find work and finally how he became a bellhop for one of Butte’s joints. It washis duty, among other things, to carry meals in trays from the nearest restaurant, two blocks away.
First Fought in Butte
“I was a wonder at tray-hopping,” he declared. “I would balance one tray on my head and have another on each arm and run those two blocks carrying eight or ten orders.” It was in Butte that he first displayed his fighting ability.
“There was another fellow working in the Copper Queen with me and they called him the Go-Get-Them-Kid. The first time I fought him he knocked me down a flight of stairs. But, never mind, I always licked him after that. An oldtime fighter, Maurice Thompson, was working in the mines. He used to come off his shift about 4 in the morning, just when business was getting good at the Copper Queen.”
He saw Ketchel and the other scrapping kid fighting one night and took a fancy to the future champion’s style. He got gloves and taught Ketchel a few tricks, until the boy could hold his own with the former pugilist. Billy Nolan, who used to manage a club, saw him at work, and got Dunc McDonald, another oldtime fighter, to try him out. As a result he was matched in a preliminary to the Herrera-Long fight, with Maurice Thompson. “He told me to go into training. I didn’t know what training was, so I asked a nigger and he told me that I was to eat something light. So I lived on noodles and it is a wonder that I’m alive.
His First in Public
“Well, the night of the fight the arena was packed so that Thompson began to laugh. I didn’t know any better and stood laughing too, with my mouth open. The next thing I knew was that Dunc McDonald’s bald head was bobbing above me and I barely got up in time to save being counted out. I stayed the six rounds, but he got the decision and the $25 purse. The beating I got left me sort of screwy ever since.”
Giving up tray-hopping, Ketchel got a job as bouncer in a gambling house and when that was shut down, he wandered off to Miles city and later to Billings, where he worked on the ranch of a man named Tremblay as a cowboy. He didn’t like it and drifted back to Butte.
There he gave an exhibition of his pugilistic prowess at a resort, knocking out Kid Tracy, who had held the resort championship. Being champion, he had to defend his title and as the place was a tough one, he had plenty of fights and finally he and Tracy hitched up to meet all comers.
“I weighed 137 pounds then and Tracy was somewhat lighter. But it would never do to let one of those tough guys lick us, so we used to hit them so hard that when they fell the lights would jar out.” He told of the tricks resorted to when one of them had a tough proposition on hand, the sandbag from behind the curtain being one of the favorite methods of quieting a burly one.
Blew the Bums to Coffee
“I was paid $1.50 a night. Every night after the show, we’d find a bunch of bums from all over the world waiting for us and we’d take them into a cheap coffee house and blow ‘em to hot coffee and sinkers to warm their bones.”
Once a month a benefit was given at the resort for the two fighters and that is when he got a line on the money that could be made in professional fighting, not to speak of the fun. His first real fight was with Montana Jack Sullivan. “It was a twenty round raw, but I murdered him,” was Ketchel’s comment.
From that time on Ketchel’s history is pretty well known to the fight fans. A San Francisco reporter saw him fight in Butte and recommended him to Sunny Jim Coffroth, the San Francisco fight promoter. Coffroth wouldn’t take a chance on him, but passed the tip to a club at Marysville, Cal. They matched him with Joe Thomas. His rise was meteoric, and in a few months he stood at the top of his division.
He liked a life of ease, and when not training he occupied the finest suite n the swellest hotel in San Francisco. He was also an automobile fiend and was never happier than when cutting holes in the atmosphere at a mile-a-minute pace.
“I bought my folks a 2,000 acre farm, so they can be comfortable,” he said, “but no business for mine – I’d rather fight.”
With Ketchel’s death there will be a bunch of claimants for his title. Ketchel always insisted to the writer that, next to himself, Hugo Kelly was the best middleweight and said that when he retired, as he talked of doing, he intended to hand the title to the Italian. Billy Papke, however, will very properly dispute Kelly’s right and there are many lesser lights who have aspirations, so watch for a string of fights in the middleweight division – if a place can be found to stage them.
Buffalo Courier – 10/19/1910
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Ketchel Delighted in Playing Jokes
New Haven, Oct. 19 – The news of the death of Stanley Ketchel was received with genuine regret by the fight fans around town, for many of them knew him personally and all were ready with anecdotes of the fighter. The news that Ketchel had been shot brought to their minds the fact that Stanley was a clever man with a gun himself. During the past summer he was staying at the Woodlawn Inn in New York and while he was there some of the local fans went down to see him.
“Stanley was a great card player,” said one of them last night, “and one afternoon I was there he was losing, when a fresh bystander, Pete the Goat, begantolaugh.
“If I had a gun with me, I’d shoot you,” said Ketchel.
“Aw, you couldn’t shoot crap” was the retort.
“Go upstairs and get my gun,” said the fighter to one of the servants. The man did.
“Ketchel took the revolver and punctured the man twice in the leg. There was no more talk of shooting after that. In fact the café at the inn is punctured with bullet holes which Stanley made,” said the fan.
“He was a great joker. At his training quarters was a man they called “Battling” Keefe, one of these men who are dip on fighting. Stanley used to spar with him, and the other pugs used to let Keefe lam them on the jaw. One day Stanley let the man hit him and ran a fake knockout in on him, passed away over backwards, and all that.
“Battling” Keefe was the puffiest man on earth. The next week he showed up with an embroidered band inside his derby hat. The band read ‘Battling’ Keefe, manager of Stanley Ketchel, champion middleweight of the world.’ Stanley used to play horse with him all the time. Tied him to the bed one afternoon and let him holler after putting all the other fellows on so they wouldn’t take any notice.
“You remember the time he was training down at the Inn when the visitors came up for lunch? Nothing would do for them but some nice tripe in batter. Stanley went out into the kitchen and got a piece of white rubber hose, which he mixed up in the batter and warmed. Then he came in and sat down at the table to watch the fun. It came all right.”
Chicago Inter Ocean 10/16/1910
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Wilson Mizner Shocked At Death of Ketchel
Wilson Mizner, who since the death of Willus Britt, has been managing the affairs of Stanley Ketchel, is now in Chicago.
“This is the toughest thing that has ever happened,” said the big Californian last night. “I was leaving for the Dixie ranch tonight tovisit Mr. Dickeson and Ketchel. It had been agreed a couple of weeks ago that I was to pick Ketchel up in Missouri and go on to New York, where he was to fight himself into trim. I received word from him two or three days ago, stating that he was in splendid condition, and only needed a few New York exhibitions to be in the best shape of his life. He had not smoked a cigarette nor had a drink since his partial breakdown in New York some weeks ago. He was but 23 years old and in my opinion had his best fighting years before him.
“We had planned to be in London around the holidays, where I had several very important matches clinched. The first report of the shooting seemed improbable to me, as, knowing Ketchel as I do, I didn’t see where any one could shoot him and get away with it, unless he was instantly killed; but the latest report about his being shot in the back makes it all distressingly probable.
“Aside from being the best fighter the world ever produced, he was the best fellow and most loyal friend I never knew. The usual procedure after a Ketchel fight was dealing out the purse money to every unfortunate he had the pleasure of meeting. He always thought of himself last, and after the responsibilities of his home ranch in Michigan had been attended to, anybody could have what was left.
“He was absolutely fearless and never had time even to discuss the prowess of an adversary. His defeat at the hands of Jack Johnson, who, by the way, had sixty pounds on him in weight, never even tainted his unequaled courage. I loved him like a brother.”
Memphis Courier 10-17-1910
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Bright Lights Ruined Ketchel. Success and Dazzle Made Wreck of Boxer.
Stanley Ketchel, the only champion in history who lost the title and then returned by knocking the daylights out of the man who wrested the crown from him, is gone, and with him went one of the greatest natural fighters the world ever saw – and the white lights which wriggle and squirm as a snake up the thoroughfare known as Broadway are mostly responsible. One glimpse of those scintillating, glistening sparks which hide the artificiality of the big street and exhilarate to the extent of causing folks who do not live within their sordid, make-believe light imagine they are enjoying themselves.
Though not a scholar, “Steve,” as he was called around Butte, was an intelligent youngster, and while a bit rude when he was wearing a pair of boxing gloves, didn’t do much cutting-up, except in a harmless way.
When he first returned East to Milwaukee and nearly jarred Billy Papke from his jaw, he was still the rough-and-ready youngster whom Freddie Bogan put into the game in Butte. Success, however proved rough on Steve. Instead of permitting the kid to go along in his good-natured way, some of the wise folks inserted the automobile bug into his bean; others handed him the talk that real sports only drink, the joy booze which contains the imprisoned smiles of the peasant girls of France. Answer: Next time they met Papke, at Los Angeles, gave him the worst beating of his career. Everybody said that it was the finish of Ketchel. Next time Steve got into condition and kicked fourteen kinds of daylight through Papke, and gave him another lacing later on.
Willus Britt – High Life
Then came Willus Britt as manager and guide. Willus was unhappy unless stirring up a bit of high life, and he carried Ketchel along with him. They went to New York, and the blaze of lights fascinated the ingenious youth and he began to get to the wrong side of the physical ledger.
He slowed up, but continued to show flashes of that form which game him the name of the “Michigan Assasin.” That slashing left and right with the awkward shift worked now and then, but Ketchel seemed to lack the dash and fire of old. Britt, in one of his dreamy moments, matched his pal against Jack Johnson. The fight was a joke. While Ketchel was a long way from himself, nevertheless the idea of throwing a small middleweight against a big heavyweight was allowed to go through.
Mizner Helped Along
Some one once remarked that a good big man could always lick a good little man. Ketchel was licked, and then he began to slip back. His last manager was Wilson Mizner, whose chief claim to fame is that he for a while was the husband of the widow of Charles T. Yerkes, the Chicago and London traction magnate. Mizner carried Ketchel along from the spot Britt left him, and the greatest middleweight since Dempsey and Fitzsimmons lost his health and attributes staring at the lights that glitter the most glittering after nightfall, gazing in rapture at the artificial world that lives in a land of trying to appear what it is not.
Broken in health with scant chance of returning to the ring as the wonderful fighter the pugilistic world knew and admired. Ketchel went back to his old life to seek health in the open air and among the horses and cattle. Instead of health, he found death.
He called down a man for beating a horse, and that led to his tragic end. Can more be said of the natural instincts of a youth who was a demon in the ring, but a dodger of trouble out of it?
Philadelphia Public Ledger 10-17-1910
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PITIFUL END OF STANLEY KETCHEL
Was a Credit to the American Ring and Deserved a Better Fate
Those who knew Stanley Ketchel, the recognized middleweight champion of the world, immediately are grieved over his untimely end. The writer knew him personally and was one of his greatest admirers. Ketchel lived a clean life, was always moderate in his habits and in all was a credit to the ring. He has frequently been alluded to as a big, blushing schoolboy, as he was always modest even amid his greatest victories. The public should suspend its condemnation of the man until the real truth be known. Ketchel, with his amiable disposition, would shrink from insulting any one; on the contrary, he would be quick to resent an insult to the opposite sex. The Montana Cowboy, as he was always alluded to, although having been born in Grand Rapids, Mich., was 23 years old on September 14. It is the writer’s belief that there was not a man in the entire world of his pounds and inches who could beat the Western man when Ketchel was himself. He had a peculiarly open style of boxing, an awkward defense and could hit a knockout punch with either hand.
After Ketchel had waded through all the middleweights, beating Joe Thomas, Billy Papke and even the elusive, clever Jack O’Brien in a decisive fashion, like Alexander, he had no other foes to conquer. Both Sam Langford and Jack Johnson were dangled before his eyes. At a little conference between Ketchel, Willus Britt, his manager, and the writer in this city, Ketchel was advised that if he intended to drop the color line and fight a Negro, to fly for the highest game and tackle Johnson. He was told that he had a fighting chance with either man, and that was all. The result of the Johnson – Ketchel bout is a matter of history, but the game, plucky, aggressive middleweight made a far better showing against the big heavyweight than did either Tommy Burns or Jeffries. In fact, Ketchel was the first man to knock Johnson down since the big Negro became a pugilistic star.
Many have been led to believe that the defeat by Johnson just one year ago caused Ketchel to lose faith in himself and lead him to dissipate. There is no ground for any such belief. The real reason for his indifference to his physical condition was the untimely death of Willus Britt. These two men were inseperable. No pugilist and his manager were ever so close as Ketchel and Britt. When the young boy manager died, the great middleweight was overcome with grief.
For a time he lost all interest in the world and himself. Suddenly all the latent ambition he possessed was awakened. The world’s heavyweight championship was his goal. He started a systematic building up of the neglected muscles and tissues and his visit to the Western ranch was but the beginning of a new Stanley Ketchel. The world will remember him as a man who always fought on the level, always to win, and who never was guilty of a mean act during his entire ring career.
Chicago American 10-17-1910
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KETCHEL DIED AS HE LIVED; CAREER WILD by Ed Smith
It is not surprising, after all, that Stanley Ketchel should have run into trouble of the sort he found in Missouri. While the famous Pole was not a man of an ugly or quarrelsome disposition, he never was known to dodge a scrap, and lived in a seething atmosphere of disquietude and contention.
Stanley lived and breathed the air of the West, no matter where he happened to be. He began his public career in the toughest section of the country, fighting in many a contest in Montana with the most desperate characters in the universe jostling one another at the ringside. Early he learned what it meant to have to be game, for in that section of the country they are prone to cutting the hearts out of quitters when the occasion arises.
Grew Up Among Fighters
The young man began a long fighting career in this environment, and it is little wonder, with his natural taste for such things, that he should have had a finish such as befell him in Missouri.
Ketchel liked to play the gentleman, too, and was one of the best dressers of all the ring stars, not excepting Jack O’Brien of Philadelphia. He was intensely eccentric at all times, however, and his wonderful effects brought out by some of his cowboy toggery caused the young fighter to be the talk of every big city in which he stopped during the height of his career.
Never was this eccentricity in the matter of dress more marked than just before the time he was matched to fight Jack Johnson out on the Pacific coast. He came through Chicago with a rig that would have made anybody else a subject for hooting on the street. His enormously high heeled boots and an overcoat with padded shoulders that made him a regular Sandow or Hackenschmidt in size brought every eye on the street in his direction.
Wanted to be Big Fellow
It was plain that Ketchel then wished to be known as a “big fellow” because he sought the black gladiator’s scalp. On account of his size many scoffed at him for aspiring to take on Johnson and for that reason he tried to carry out the idea that he was getting bigger all the time.
His showing with Johnson in the ring in the Far West was a sorry exhibition. He proved so small alongside of the champion that it looked to be a shame to send him in for the licking that surely was his. But Ketchel’s own ego and his natural gameness dictated to him and his manager, Willus Britt, who died soon afterward, that he had a grand chance with Johnson. He was knocked out in the twelfth round and never afterward put up any sort of a showing.
Becomes Physical Wreck
The defeat seemed to crush Ketchel in more ways than one, and when he tangled up with Wilson Mizner, who undertook the management of him a short time after Britt’s death and after several others had failed in the job, Stanley started on a career of pleasure in the metropolis that left him finally a physical wreck.
He came West to recuperate, and announced several times that he did not intend to fight any more. Several fight promoters and managers attempted to get him to change his mind without success. Only Saturday a letter was received by the American from Al Lippe, a New York manager, in which he told of his failure to get Ketchel for a European tour that he is about to undertake with Harry Lewis as his chief star. Too bad, for the middleweight champion now sleeps the sleep that knows no awakening.
Butte Montana Mountain – 10-17-1910
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Stanley Ketchel’s Tragic End Causes Regret Here
Middleweight Champion’s Assassination Proves That He Had Many Friends in Butte Who Liked Him Personally And Admired His Ability
Butte’s sporting fraternity was greatly shocked and grieved Saturday night, when the news flashed over the wires, that Stanley Ketchel, middleweight champion of the world, and one of the greatest and gamest fighters ever in that division, died from the effects of an assassin’s bullet, in Springfield, Mo. He died as he lived, game and fighting to the end, and refused to surrender or concede defeat, even when his opponent was armed with a rifle, from which he received the death wound, when he refused to throw up his hands as commanded by Walter Dipley, better known as Walter A. Hurtz. In his long and brilliant ring career, Ketchel often encountered and overcame what looked like overwhelming odds, but this time he failed and it cost him his life.
Peculiar Coincidences
That Ketchel should be known in the ring as the “Michigan Assassin,” owing to his grand fighting ability, and then die at the hands of an assassin is a peculiar coincidence, but stranger yet is the fact that he should terminate his career on Oct. 15, when on Oct. 16, 1909, he was knocked out by Jack Johnson in a battle for the world’s championship, at Colma, Cal., after twelve rounds of fighting, this showing that the two most important events in his eventful career occurred almost at the same time of the month, one year apart. Ketchel’s two ambitions were to become heavyweight champion of the world and to live a long life.
Unfortunately he failed in both. His defeat at the hands of Jack Johnson is stated to have been the cause of Willie Britt’s death and that indomitable spirit of Ketchel, who would not give up against any odds, brought his own life to an early and unexpected close. Since his defeat at the hands of Jack Johnson, Ketchel had not been the same. He went into the ring with the grand colored fighter, feeling certain that he could outpunch and out game the colored man, but the Negro proved too strong and clever for the great white lad. That defeat almost broke Ketchel’s stout heart, and he has never been the same since. His one desire was to meet Jack Johnson again, in an effort to retrieve that defeat. He went to the ranch of R.P. Dickerson at Springfield, Mo., for the purpose of resting up and taking on weight, so that he could met Johnson on more even terms if they ever got into the ring again, but now his hopes and ideas will never be carried out.
Well Liked Here
Kethel, like everyone else had some enemies, but he left many friends in Butte, who cherish nothing but the kindest feelings towards the former Butte resident. Ketchel won their friendship and admiration by his game and willing fighting, and when he went into the ring it was to win. He asked no odds and never begged for quarter. No matter how bad the fight was going against him, he never quit and would continue a battle with great desperation when he appeared defeated. This he showed to Butte people in his bouts with Maurice Thompson in this city, and he proved it to the world when he was defeated by Billy Papke in San Francisco. Ketchel was practically out in the second round of that fight, yet he continued in the battle until the twelfth round on his nerve and gameness alone, as he was so weak and tired that he could not hurt Papke under any conditions. That Papke did not possess the gameness and unconquerable spirit of Ketchel was shown in that battle, and again when they fought a twenty round bout, which Papke could have won with a knockout, had he been willing to take a chance and mix matters, as Ketchel was all in during the last five rounds, but again outgamed Papke.
Learned the Game Here
Ketchel came to Butte a “green” farmer’s boy, and he knew little of the ways of the world. He was given a chance in a preliminary in this city, and showed such promise that he was given many fights and improved with each battle. He was always willing and ready to meet any man in the ring and never cared or asked how much the other fellow weighed or how good he was. After winning several good fights in Butte and several other Montana cities he went to the coast and in a very short time was at the top of the middleweight heap, mainly because of his victories over Joe Thomas, who was then a California idol and considered invincible. While in Butte he was under the management of Freddie Bogan, who undoubtedly deserves great credit for Ketchel’s success, as he taught the middleweight champion all the rudiments of the game, which with his later experience in the ring, made him the best man in his class.
An Old Letter
In looking over some old papers yesterday I discovered a letter from Ketchel, dated April 25, 1908, which was written just before his fight with Jack “Twin” Sullivan, whom he knocked out in twenty rounds on May 9, 1908. In that letter Ketchel expresses that great confidence which made him the terror of all middleweights, and shows why he was so hard to defeat. He was just at the start of his career at that time, and showed that same feeling for Butte which he often expressed when he became champion. The letter, in part, follows:
“It is some time since I had a line from you; so I thought I would write to let you know how I am getting on. I am now at Colma training for my fight with Jack “Twin” Sullivan. I am getting in good condition and ma ready for a hard battle. I think I will win from him, but I know he will give me a harder battle than his brother, and I will be in better shape than ever before. My old trainer, Leroy, went to help his old pal, Tommy Sullivan, train for his fight with Abe Attell, and this time Joe Willis, a 190 pounder, is with me. I am getting bigger myself, and must have those big fellows to work with, as the others cannot stand my punches any more. Willis has a big body protector like a catcher wears, and that is the only way he will box with me. Now, Floto, I am fighting at 156 pounds, four hours before the battle, and I am better at that weight than any other, and will be ready for anything he can haout out to me. This time I will demonstrate that I have got more than a “haymaker,” and will show that I am a bit clever myself. Even if I do not say it, I am under cover with a lot of stuff that the wise bunch won’t know I got until this battle is over.
Like Butte
“Some of the paper men are sore at me in this country, but I don’t care. I know at least that the old bunch around Montana are still with me, and I don’t care what the others may thing. Well, Floto, what do you think of the coming battle? Do you think I made a good match or not? I am getting to be a big fellow, and now, I might as well start in with the big fellows, and I think Sullivan is as easy as any other man in the country. Well, Floto, I would like to hear from you and Butte. Give all the bunch my regards, and tell them to have a bet on me, as I am certain on winning, and do not expect much trouble in beating Sullivan.”
Walter Dipley, alias Walter A. Hurtz, was captured early yesterday morning at the ranch of Thomas Haggard, where he applied for food and a place to sleep, having become exhausted from his trip through the woods trying to avoid capture. After being placed under arrest he admitted his identity, but claimed that he killed Ketchel in self-defense, because the fighter would not throw up his hands when commanded. He also stated that Ketchel insulted Goldie Smith, with whom Dipley was living as man and wife.
Funeral services were held in the Elks’ club at Springfield yesterday and the body shipped to Grand Rapids, Mich., accompanied by Dickerson, for burial. Butte friends intended taking up a collection to buy flowers for Ketchel, but owing to the shortness of the time this plan was abandoned, although more than $100 could have been secured within an hour.
Philadelphia, Pa. Times 10-18-1910
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Ketchel Was One Real Champion
by Fred Ford
Stanley Ketchel, the greatest fighting flesh of his pounds who ever taped a fist for a ring battle, has been murdered on a ranch in the west and the game loses its greatest little gladiator and the favorite fighter of the American public as a consequence.
This reckless, fearless ring god was but a child of the western cattle range, who left to his own ends, would have branded long horns until he pillowed his head beneath the stars in the long sleep which knows no awakening.
“Steve,” as those who knew him were permitted to call him, had the most brilliant career of any fighter who ever coupled the world championship to his name. For and one-half rounds was the average of the time his foes lasted before his fists. Jack Johnson, the heavyweight champion was stretched before the drive of the fist of the little Michigander. Three men have knocked Johnson down, Choynski, Ketchel and Langford.
The record of the middleweight chief is too well known to be repeated. His battles have all been sensational. Ketchel was all a champion could be, game, daring, a veritable devil, winning or losing, and he never fought a fake fight.
Stories of His Life
There are some stories about the career of the little wonder which illustrate the greatness of his prowess. Once Billy Papke knocked out the Michigan assassin in eleven rounds in Los Angeles, Cal. Those who saw that fight say that they saw the gamest battle a human ever game to a victorious foe. That while reeling on his feet, so weakened that his hands hung at his side, his face wreathed in a smale, “Steve” fought like a panther until Papke would back away in horror that human flesh could rally so wonderfully on absolutely nothing.
The critics wrote his obit., and said his career as a champion was closed. He begged with tears in his eyes for another chance at Papke. It was granted. Not because he was thought to have a single chance to win, but for financial reasons. The promoter knew Ketchel would fight Papke like a wildcat and tumble to his defeat with a heroism so spectacular it would atone for the sacrifice.
Ketchel went to the mountains. The cafes of Frisco saw nothing more of him. He jumped into the ring with a sparkle in his eye and a hue to his skin that frightened Papke. He knocked out Papke in a corking fight, and was again heralded as the greatest little fellow in the game.
Weighs 149; Fights Texan
Johnny Loftus, of this city, tells some things of the champion which illustrates what a really remarkable fellow the little fighter was without the public knowing the true state of affairs.
The promoters of the Johnson-Ketchel fight announced that Stanley had grown so big that he weighed 188 pounds and that with his increased pounds he would probably fight the Texan off his feet or cross his punch and drop the Golden Smile. Ketchel weighed from 149 to 151 pounds when he entered the ring against the Texan. Johnson was closed to 226 as the beam rises and falls on the scales.
Unknown, the little fellow won from Joe Thomas the welterweight title, and there was no time in his career that he would not have done 142 pounds at 3 o’ clock; then he knocked out Mike and Jack “Twin” Sullivan, of Boston; Hugo Kelly, of Chicago, Billy Papke, of Illinois, Willie Lewis, of New York; Porky Flynn, of Boston; Jim Smith, of Brooklyn, and finally “Philadelphia Jack” O’Brien, the cleverest of the middleweights.
Joe O’Connor, a western photographer, was the man who backed Ketchel in his early fights. Willus Britt, a brother of Jimmy, the lightweight, being done as a star, and Battling Nelson, to his mind, on the wane, went to Ketchel’s home in Grand Rapids, Mich., and brought Ketchel east.
Springfield Missouri Leader – 10-18-1910
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Knew Ketchel in Butte When a Lad
Manager of Miss Nobody Company discusses Career of Middleweight.
Stanley Ketchel was easily the greatest middleweight fighter the sporting world ever saw. Of course he did not excel Bob Fitzsimmons but Ketchel was strictly in the middleweight class while Fitzsimmons took on all regardless of the class they were in. The appellation “Michigan Assassin,” by which Ketchel was known in sporting circles over the world, was well chosen for when he got in one of his terrific smashes it was all over with his opponent.
This is what Charles Donoghue, manager of the “Miss Nobody from Starland” company which showed at the Landers last night thinks of the dead pugilist. Mr. Donoghue had known Ketchel since he was a youth. He first met Ketchel in Butte, Mont., and used to have him in preliminary bouts at prize fights in Butte which were arranged for the entertainment of the miners who worked around there.
“When I was connected with the Montana Bill Posting company at Butte I conceived the idea of making money by putting on a few fights at the old Broadway theater,” said Mr. Donoghue last night. “Ketchel at that time was meeting kids around Butte three and four times a week and he was knocking them all out. I had him several times in preliminary bouts before the main fights. I never paid him more than $25 to appear at the Broadway. He thought this was big money in those days and it made him determined to carve a career in the prize ring.
His First Fights
“The first fight Ketchel ever had that brought him into prominence was at Maryville, Cal., where he knocked out Joe Thomas in thirteen rounds.
“After the Thomas fight, Hugo Kelly, who I confidently believe will wear the middleweight championship belt which was left without a wearer with the death of Ketchel, wanted to meet the Michigan boy. I was manager for Kelly at that time. It was arranged for the fight to be pulled off in ‘Frisco.
“I and others, who were aware of the famous shift of Ketchel which proved the waterloo of so many of his opponents, were very careful in training Kelly. This famous shift that Ketchel had was natural with him. He had a habit of swinging a stiff left one to his opponent and doubling the dose by a terrific punch with the right. He figured that if he missed with his left he would land with his right or if he landed with his left he could follow it up with a quick right.
“Kelly trained carefully for this shift blow of Kelly. He thought he was pretty well onto it after sparring with several before the big fight. He was told to close in on Ketchel when he tried the shift and to give him a smashing blow in the face. It was the rule with the opponents of Ketchel to step back when he made that drive at them. Kelly was coached to rush in instead of stepping back.
Ketchel was “All In.”
“The first two rounds Kelly did well. He rushed in and Ketchel’s shift proved ineffectual. Kelly landed in bout rounds and Ketchel was just about all in. Willus Britt and other fight fans had bets up on Ketchel and they looked sick. They were seen to tear up their tickets and prepare to leave the ringside. Then something happened to cause them to change their minds.
“When Ketchel came back in the third round he was as game as when he began the first round. Kelly to this day doesn’t know why he did it, but nevertheless it cost him that battle. Instead of closing in when Ketchel tried to work his shift, he stepped backward – just the opposite of what he should have done. It was soon over. Ketchel landed and landed hard. Kelly went down before his blows and never came back. The blow Kelly received in that round was the worst he ever experienced. It absolutely paralyzed him.
“It was the only fight Kelly ever had with Ketchel though I always thought he ranked next to Ketchel as the greatest middleweight. The nearest Kelly ever came to fighting Ketchel again was in his fight with Billy Papke. In the third fight Kelly had with Papke which was at Colma in May 1909, the winner was to be matched with Ketchel. Papke sent Kelly down in the first round and Papke got to meet Ketchel.
Always Fought in Open
“Ketchel was one of the cleverest fighters I ever knew. He always fought in the open which made him an easy man to hit but it seems they couldn’t put him out. With all his ability as a fighter, however, I do not believe that he could have whipped Jack Johnson. Ketchel was distinctly a lightweight and would never have been able to put on the weight necessary to be on an equal footing with the big Negro. I want to tell you that Jack Johnson is a huge Negro and it is going to take a huge white man to wrest the championship from him.
“Ketchel was extremely popular on the pacific coast where most of his fights were pulled off and where he was widely known. He had a host of friends out there and his death in Springfield caused much sorrow among them. He was in a class to himself and there was no middleweight who could have knocked him out.
“I believe the championship now lies between Hugo Kelly and Billy Papke. These two men are the best middleweights in the world today and one of them will pick up the belt which the death of Ketchel leaves to be contested for.
Buffalo Express 10-18-1910
-------------------------------
Stirring Life of Ketchel. Dead Champion Had a Rough Row to Hoe Before He Got to Top. Bummed All Over. Most of His Career Confined to the Wild and Wolly in Northwest
Written for The Express by A.H. Beckett
The career of Stanley Ketchel, who met a tragic death at Springfield, Mo., is a most interesting one, and moreover, it was one which Ketchel willingly told himself. He ran away from home when twelve years old, tramped all over the country, finally landing in Montana, where he secured a position as bellhop in a Butte resort. From that he advanced to the position of cowboy and rode herd near Miles City, Mont., and later near Great Falls.
Tiring of life in the saddle, young Ketchel went to Butte and went to work in one of the big copper mines there. He was about eighteen years old at that time, strong and well built and capable of holding his own with any of the many miners of many nationalities that toiled several thousand feet down in the ground.
Ketchel’s Own Story
But let Ketchel tell his own story, as he told it on his last trip East a few months ago, when he was scheduled to fight Bill Lang in New York, but had to call off the battle owing to lack of condition.
“I was born in Grand Rapids,” said Ketchel, in September 24th, 23 years ago. I guess I was a tough kid. I was always trimming someone and would lift anything which wasn’t nailed down. It got so that I was always in trouble, and when anything happened in the neighborhood everybody would lay the blame on poor me. Sometimes I deserved it – occasionally I did not. However, when I was twelve years old I ran away from home.
“I always had the bug to go to Montana and be a cowboy. That’s the first thing I can remember I wanted to do. My chum was another kid, only a little older than myself. He had been on bumming trips before and we agreed to hike for the west and make our fortunes.
“We didn’t have much money. I think my bankroll was between ten and fifteen cents, but we beat our way to Detroit, where my pal had a sister, and we borrowed $2 from her. Then we made our way to the railway yards, jumped a blind and were soon on our way west.
Lost His Pal
“We hadn’t gone far when a copper spied us, and when the train stopped we got off and used our heels. The copper took after Cuba (my chum), but he didn’t catch him. I caught the train when it was ready to pull, but Cuba missed it – and he had the $2. Well, I hit Chicago stony broke. Meals were few and far between for a few days and finally I landed a job in a swell dump of a coffee-house on Van Buren street. I made good there and was put on the night shift. Just about daylight one morning we had finished cleaning up and the cashier – he was the boss’s son – and myself were looking out in front when up drifts the dirties pair of bums you ever set your lamps on. I had to look twice before I recognized my old partner, Cuba. He had a tear-year-old kid with him and they didn’t have a copper.
“We had a bull window full of the fanciest kinds of cakes and pies you ever saw – those high cakes with the icing on them – and Cuba and the kid were looking their heads off at that junk. I flagged him and took him next door, where there was a three-cent, coffee house. Our own joint was too swell for my bankroll.
Trimmed in a Turning Joint
“Every time I got any money I went out and bought something. I wanted to go home andmake some kind of a flash – see? Then – I was a kid, you must remember – I got into a turning joint and they trimmed me. I didn’t have a thing left. I met up with an old bum that wired chairs and we started west.
“This guy was a fast worker, too, and made lots of money. I bored the holes in the chairs and he wired them. We used to make from $3 to $10 a day. We got as far west as Minneapolis is the ‘square’ town, isn’t it? – then, it was Saint Paul where we landed. I list him there and, of course, he had all the dough. That was always my luck. I was a kid and the other fellow always carried the bank roll. So I wandered around town all day without anything to eat and marked a barn where I could sleep that night.
“Well, the cop told me afterward that he used to go in there every morning at 2 o’clock and nab a sleeper. That night he got me. I didn’t have a thing but a pair of crap dice. I was always stuck on shooting craps. When the cop woke me up I was so scared that I took those dice out of my pocket and held them in my hand. I was going to throw them away, but I was too scared.
Uncovered his Dice
“At the station the sergeant wanted to see what was in my hand and I had to show him. But my hands showed that I was a hard worker and I sure did shoot the bull with him. Finally, hetold me to go, but to get out of town in the morning. I got. I caught a train loaded with bums bound for Dakota and we rode as far as Barnesville, Minn., where the brakies found us and chucked us off. I was the littliest of the bunch and I did pretty well on the handouts.
“Well, I got a job as a harvest hand at $2.50 a day. That was big money for a kid, but I made good. Later I was promoted and finally became a fireman at $5 a day. They fired the threshing machines with straw, you know. WhenI got tired of that job I thought I’d hike for Winnipeg. I hadn’t washed all the time I was in the Dakotas – water’s too scarce out there, you know – and between the sun and dust and dirt I was pretty near black.
“I beat my way to Winnipeg and there I signed to work at a railroad camp near Revelstoke, B.C. They thought I was a blacksmith, I was so black and greasy, and I just let it go at that. I only paid $13.50 for a ride of nearly 2,000 miles, but when I got to Revelstoke, nine miles from the railroad camp, I just dropped off. I got to thinking what they’d do to me when they found I wasn’t a blacksmith and figured that they would just about kill me. I knew there were tough people up there, for I was about fourteen years old then.
Bug to Be a Miner
“I got the bug to be a miner and someone told me of the mines near Victoria, so I started in that direction. I never did get where I wanted to go. I got broke and had to walk back over the railroads and stage lines that I’d paid money to ride on. I met an Irishman and he told me that I was too small for the mines, so we bummed around together for a while. Then I lost him.
“It’s a funny thing. A long time afterward I was sitting in the back room of a saloon. I had taken a lot of stuff out of my pockets and was reading it over. You know that’s the way with bums. We’d have our pocket filled with timetables and maps and postcards and letters from home and then when we had nothing else to do we’d sit down and read them. Well, I was looking them over when this little Irishman saw that I had a card from Revelstoke and we got acquainted again.
“Then I worked in a sawmill, riding logs. They gave us straw to sleep on, but you could buy blankets at the commissary. I got a couple of beauts and never asked the price. Later when I found they cost $12 each I made them take them back. I’d have been working out there yet to pay for those blankets the way they robbed us. That was at Arrowhead, B.C. Finally I got tired of that hard work and poor grub and small pay and hit the trail for Revelstoke again.
“I hid in a toolbox under to Vancouver – one jump of 500 miles. I had a blanket and a rifle I had stolen in the toolbox with me.
On Vancouver Island
A dozen similar episodes of hobo life brought Ketchel to Ladysmith, a coal mining city on Vancouver Island. He landed there, broke, as usual.
“I don’t know how I did get to Victoria. It was an awful trip and like a bad dream.”
In Victoria he peddled his rifle for $4 and paid $2 for a ride to Seattle. At Seattle, after spending what he had left, he and a young fellow he had picked up determined to beatit out on a freight. “We got locked in a fruit car,” he said, “and the car was side tracked. We beat on the door two days before anyone let us out. I had only a razer and couldn’t cut my way out with that.”
He was on his way to Montana to carry out the long-cherished ambition to be a cowboy. At Hope, Idaho, he was put off. He got to work on a section gang, carrying ties. “But that work was too tough for me. The tired weighed 250 pounds and I was only a kid.” He caught a freight for Butte, Mont., but at Silver Bow, a few miles out, “a lot of us bums were put off and had to walk in.”
Of his experiences in Butte, where he lived for years, he declared that “I was three months without seeing a bed, missing a meal or having a nickel.”
He told of his efforts to find work and finally how he became a bellhop for one of Butte’s joints. It washis duty, among other things, to carry meals in trays from the nearest restaurant, two blocks away.
First Fought in Butte
“I was a wonder at tray-hopping,” he declared. “I would balance one tray on my head and have another on each arm and run those two blocks carrying eight or ten orders.” It was in Butte that he first displayed his fighting ability.
“There was another fellow working in the Copper Queen with me and they called him the Go-Get-Them-Kid. The first time I fought him he knocked me down a flight of stairs. But, never mind, I always licked him after that. An oldtime fighter, Maurice Thompson, was working in the mines. He used to come off his shift about 4 in the morning, just when business was getting good at the Copper Queen.”
He saw Ketchel and the other scrapping kid fighting one night and took a fancy to the future champion’s style. He got gloves and taught Ketchel a few tricks, until the boy could hold his own with the former pugilist. Billy Nolan, who used to manage a club, saw him at work, and got Dunc McDonald, another oldtime fighter, to try him out. As a result he was matched in a preliminary to the Herrera-Long fight, with Maurice Thompson. “He told me to go into training. I didn’t know what training was, so I asked a nigger and he told me that I was to eat something light. So I lived on noodles and it is a wonder that I’m alive.
His First in Public
“Well, the night of the fight the arena was packed so that Thompson began to laugh. I didn’t know any better and stood laughing too, with my mouth open. The next thing I knew was that Dunc McDonald’s bald head was bobbing above me and I barely got up in time to save being counted out. I stayed the six rounds, but he got the decision and the $25 purse. The beating I got left me sort of screwy ever since.”
Giving up tray-hopping, Ketchel got a job as bouncer in a gambling house and when that was shut down, he wandered off to Miles city and later to Billings, where he worked on the ranch of a man named Tremblay as a cowboy. He didn’t like it and drifted back to Butte.
There he gave an exhibition of his pugilistic prowess at a resort, knocking out Kid Tracy, who had held the resort championship. Being champion, he had to defend his title and as the place was a tough one, he had plenty of fights and finally he and Tracy hitched up to meet all comers.
“I weighed 137 pounds then and Tracy was somewhat lighter. But it would never do to let one of those tough guys lick us, so we used to hit them so hard that when they fell the lights would jar out.” He told of the tricks resorted to when one of them had a tough proposition on hand, the sandbag from behind the curtain being one of the favorite methods of quieting a burly one.
Blew the Bums to Coffee
“I was paid $1.50 a night. Every night after the show, we’d find a bunch of bums from all over the world waiting for us and we’d take them into a cheap coffee house and blow ‘em to hot coffee and sinkers to warm their bones.”
Once a month a benefit was given at the resort for the two fighters and that is when he got a line on the money that could be made in professional fighting, not to speak of the fun. His first real fight was with Montana Jack Sullivan. “It was a twenty round raw, but I murdered him,” was Ketchel’s comment.
From that time on Ketchel’s history is pretty well known to the fight fans. A San Francisco reporter saw him fight in Butte and recommended him to Sunny Jim Coffroth, the San Francisco fight promoter. Coffroth wouldn’t take a chance on him, but passed the tip to a club at Marysville, Cal. They matched him with Joe Thomas. His rise was meteoric, and in a few months he stood at the top of his division.
He liked a life of ease, and when not training he occupied the finest suite n the swellest hotel in San Francisco. He was also an automobile fiend and was never happier than when cutting holes in the atmosphere at a mile-a-minute pace.
“I bought my folks a 2,000 acre farm, so they can be comfortable,” he said, “but no business for mine – I’d rather fight.”
With Ketchel’s death there will be a bunch of claimants for his title. Ketchel always insisted to the writer that, next to himself, Hugo Kelly was the best middleweight and said that when he retired, as he talked of doing, he intended to hand the title to the Italian. Billy Papke, however, will very properly dispute Kelly’s right and there are many lesser lights who have aspirations, so watch for a string of fights in the middleweight division – if a place can be found to stage them.
Buffalo Courier – 10/19/1910
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Ketchel Delighted in Playing Jokes
New Haven, Oct. 19 – The news of the death of Stanley Ketchel was received with genuine regret by the fight fans around town, for many of them knew him personally and all were ready with anecdotes of the fighter. The news that Ketchel had been shot brought to their minds the fact that Stanley was a clever man with a gun himself. During the past summer he was staying at the Woodlawn Inn in New York and while he was there some of the local fans went down to see him.
“Stanley was a great card player,” said one of them last night, “and one afternoon I was there he was losing, when a fresh bystander, Pete the Goat, begantolaugh.
“If I had a gun with me, I’d shoot you,” said Ketchel.
“Aw, you couldn’t shoot crap” was the retort.
“Go upstairs and get my gun,” said the fighter to one of the servants. The man did.
“Ketchel took the revolver and punctured the man twice in the leg. There was no more talk of shooting after that. In fact the café at the inn is punctured with bullet holes which Stanley made,” said the fan.
“He was a great joker. At his training quarters was a man they called “Battling” Keefe, one of these men who are dip on fighting. Stanley used to spar with him, and the other pugs used to let Keefe lam them on the jaw. One day Stanley let the man hit him and ran a fake knockout in on him, passed away over backwards, and all that.
“Battling” Keefe was the puffiest man on earth. The next week he showed up with an embroidered band inside his derby hat. The band read ‘Battling’ Keefe, manager of Stanley Ketchel, champion middleweight of the world.’ Stanley used to play horse with him all the time. Tied him to the bed one afternoon and let him holler after putting all the other fellows on so they wouldn’t take any notice.
“You remember the time he was training down at the Inn when the visitors came up for lunch? Nothing would do for them but some nice tripe in batter. Stanley went out into the kitchen and got a piece of white rubber hose, which he mixed up in the batter and warmed. Then he came in and sat down at the table to watch the fun. It came all right.”
Chicago Inter Ocean 10/16/1910
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Wilson Mizner Shocked At Death of Ketchel
Wilson Mizner, who since the death of Willus Britt, has been managing the affairs of Stanley Ketchel, is now in Chicago.
“This is the toughest thing that has ever happened,” said the big Californian last night. “I was leaving for the Dixie ranch tonight tovisit Mr. Dickeson and Ketchel. It had been agreed a couple of weeks ago that I was to pick Ketchel up in Missouri and go on to New York, where he was to fight himself into trim. I received word from him two or three days ago, stating that he was in splendid condition, and only needed a few New York exhibitions to be in the best shape of his life. He had not smoked a cigarette nor had a drink since his partial breakdown in New York some weeks ago. He was but 23 years old and in my opinion had his best fighting years before him.
“We had planned to be in London around the holidays, where I had several very important matches clinched. The first report of the shooting seemed improbable to me, as, knowing Ketchel as I do, I didn’t see where any one could shoot him and get away with it, unless he was instantly killed; but the latest report about his being shot in the back makes it all distressingly probable.
“Aside from being the best fighter the world ever produced, he was the best fellow and most loyal friend I never knew. The usual procedure after a Ketchel fight was dealing out the purse money to every unfortunate he had the pleasure of meeting. He always thought of himself last, and after the responsibilities of his home ranch in Michigan had been attended to, anybody could have what was left.
“He was absolutely fearless and never had time even to discuss the prowess of an adversary. His defeat at the hands of Jack Johnson, who, by the way, had sixty pounds on him in weight, never even tainted his unequaled courage. I loved him like a brother.”
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Rowley Mon 03 Oct 2011, 9:06 am
Cheers for these Clay, will read them properly when I get home, Ketchel is a guy who has fascinated me for a while now and in the absence of a decent biography of him stuff like this is always welcome.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Fists of Fury Mon 03 Oct 2011, 9:09 am
Wow, some great stuff there Clay, very interesting to see how he was viewed at that time and throughout his career by the media.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by HumanWindmill Mon 03 Oct 2011, 9:41 am
This excellent material needs to be preserved in the vault, so I have duly copied it there, having finally gotten the hang of copying entire threads.
Thanks for sharing it, Clay.
Thanks for sharing it, Clay.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Waingro Mon 03 Oct 2011, 5:06 pm
He told me to go into training. I didn’t know what training was, so I asked a nigger and he told me that I was to eat something light. So I lived on noodles and it is a wonder that I’m alive.
? Was this dude a racist?
? Was this dude a racist?
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Rowley Mon 03 Oct 2011, 5:10 pm
By the standards of the day probably not, unfortunately it was not uncommon for white people in such times to use such language about black people. Ketchel fought a no decision fight against a black fighter in Sam Langford and all the rumours suggest at the time of his death he was willing to face Sam again with the title on the line. By the standards of the day a white champion being willing to defend his title against a black fighter was no small concession and speaks well of Stanley.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by HumanWindmill Mon 03 Oct 2011, 5:14 pm
Waingro wrote:He told me to go into training. I didn’t know what training was, so I asked a nigger and he told me that I was to eat something light. So I lived on noodles and it is a wonder that I’m alive.
? Was this dude a racist?
Ketchel was a drinking buddy of Jack Johnson, who was black.
When Jeffries was putting the finishing touches to his training for the Johnson fight in 1910, Ketchel visited him at camp, but was thrown out because he was a friend of Johnson.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by manos de piedra Mon 03 Oct 2011, 5:23 pm
Seems strange that most of the reports seem to portray the Johnson bout as not only legitimate but also something of a great effort by Ketchel and a fearless undertaking. Seems a bit stretched from the reality which depending on what you believe would either show Ketchel as willingly engaging in a fixed bout or trying an underhand move to nick Johnsons title by reneging on a previous agreement. Either way from what I have seen and read the bout was dreadfully lacklustre other than a moment of controversy and virtually all reasoning points to something being up.
Interesting read although Ive never really supported Ketchels claims as a top all time middleweight. Also quite interesting to read his claim that Keely was the best middleweight outside himself when there would appear to be little evidence to support this.
Interesting read although Ive never really supported Ketchels claims as a top all time middleweight. Also quite interesting to read his claim that Keely was the best middleweight outside himself when there would appear to be little evidence to support this.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by HumanWindmill Mon 03 Oct 2011, 6:40 pm
manos de piedra wrote:Seems strange that most of the reports seem to portray the Johnson bout as not only legitimate but also something of a great effort by Ketchel and a fearless undertaking. Seems a bit stretched from the reality which depending on what you believe would either show Ketchel as willingly engaging in a fixed bout or trying an underhand move to nick Johnsons title by reneging on a previous agreement. Either way from what I have seen and read the bout was dreadfully lacklustre other than a moment of controversy and virtually all reasoning points to something being up.
Interesting read although Ive never really supported Ketchels claims as a top all time middleweight. Also quite interesting to read his claim that Keely was the best middleweight outside himself when there would appear to be little evidence to support this.
Don't suppose we'll ever get to the botton of that one, manos.
I even have a theory that the famous double cross was, itself, an elaborate set up. Ketchel's haymaker actually catches Johnson behind the ear, ( unless there are frames missing, ) and Johnson seems already to be tumbling forward and on his way down.
Fighters still made money from transportation of fight films until such transportation would be banned following Johnson v Jeffries, so the ' double cross ' theory would add some spice, as well as upping Ketchel's profile as a puncher and Johnson's as a ruthless finisher when he wanted to be. Principle argument against all this is that Ketchel did, genuinely, appear to have been pole axed.
Who knows?
We differ as to Ketchel's claim to being an all time great middle, mind you, but that can wait for another day.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Waingro Mon 03 Oct 2011, 10:38 pm
I think if you fix fights in boxing you should be banned i dont think you should be considered a great imo its the same as cheating and it is also ripping off people who pay money to see a competitive fight.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Colonial Lion Tue 04 Oct 2011, 8:30 am
I would echo the comments above that it does seem strange that many of these reports seem to neglect what would appear to be a clearly fixed bout - be it partial agreement, double cross or a completely deided fixed. I have done alot of research into this myself in an effort to get to the bottom of what really happened but there is so much conflicting opinions, theories and views it seems impossible to know the full extent. What does seem apparent and widely agreed upon was that the two men had agreed for the bout to go a minimum distance in order for there to be a film worth showing and thus an increase in ticket sales. After that it becomes much more ambiguos as to whether the two had agreed to fight for keeps at a certain point, whether Ketchel had tried to pull a fast one (there are reports of Ketchells corner screaming "now" just prior to Johnson being knocked down) and I have even heard that Ketchel had agreed to lose the bout to Johnson but had become worried that the lacklustre bout would be seen as a fix and thus deliberately provoked Johnson into a full blooded attack in order to make the finish look plausible as he was wary about taking a dive while being filmed. And the reslting knock out ws simply Ketchel getting more than he bargained for from an enraged Johnson who believed he was the victim of a double cross. Other sources report the two fighters playing cards together later (with Ketchel minus a couple of teeth) which would lend some weight to this theory. However it still remains something of an unsolved mystery to me.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by cmoyle Tue 04 Oct 2011, 2:15 pm
Here's what I've written about the Ketchel - Johnson match in a chapter about Ketchel in a book I might produce one day concering various fighters:
"When the two men finally came together in the ring on October 16 Stanley was knocked out in the twelfth round. The well known story surrounding the fight is there was a prior arrangement to the match that Johnson would not attempt to knock Stanley out, but Stanley tried to double cross the champion with a knockout blow of his own, which failed, and he was subsequently knocked out by an angered Johnson.
George Little, Johnson’s manager at the time, later claimed it was agreed between the parties the fight would go 12 rounds, and Ketchel was to knock Johnson down ten seconds into the round. Johnson was to put a look of agony on his face, and then get up and knock Ketchel down, and Stanley would then be counted out.
The more popular version of the fight most frequently shared today continues to be it was agreed by both parties that neither would try and knock the other out, and Stanley double crossed an unsuspecting Johnson with the hopes of knocking him out, and an incensed Johnson got up and proceeded to knock him out.
Stanley gave up a good three to three-and-a-half inches in height and thirty to forty pounds in weight to the champion and was also at a large disadvantage in terms of reach. The difference in size between the pair is readily apparent from the film of the fight and it’s clear the champion was much too big and strong, as well as skilled for the middleweight champion to defeat."
"When the two men finally came together in the ring on October 16 Stanley was knocked out in the twelfth round. The well known story surrounding the fight is there was a prior arrangement to the match that Johnson would not attempt to knock Stanley out, but Stanley tried to double cross the champion with a knockout blow of his own, which failed, and he was subsequently knocked out by an angered Johnson.
George Little, Johnson’s manager at the time, later claimed it was agreed between the parties the fight would go 12 rounds, and Ketchel was to knock Johnson down ten seconds into the round. Johnson was to put a look of agony on his face, and then get up and knock Ketchel down, and Stanley would then be counted out.
The more popular version of the fight most frequently shared today continues to be it was agreed by both parties that neither would try and knock the other out, and Stanley double crossed an unsuspecting Johnson with the hopes of knocking him out, and an incensed Johnson got up and proceeded to knock him out.
Stanley gave up a good three to three-and-a-half inches in height and thirty to forty pounds in weight to the champion and was also at a large disadvantage in terms of reach. The difference in size between the pair is readily apparent from the film of the fight and it’s clear the champion was much too big and strong, as well as skilled for the middleweight champion to defeat."
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Rowley Tue 04 Oct 2011, 2:26 pm
cmoyle wrote:Here's what I've written about the Ketchel - Johnson match in a chapter about Ketchel in a book I might produce one day concering various fighters:
Personally I think a better idea would be for you to produce a full biography of Ketchel Clay, the more I read about him the further up my list of guys who is crying out for a decent biography.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Scottrf Tue 04 Oct 2011, 2:28 pm
Yeah, I've never even heard of Ketchel Clay.rowley wrote:Personally I think a better idea would be for you to produce a full biography of Ketchel Clay, the more I read about him the further up my list of guys who is crying out for a decent biography.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Rowley Tue 04 Oct 2011, 2:30 pm
Scottrf wrote:Yeah, I've never even heard of Ketchel Clay.rowley wrote:Personally I think a better idea would be for you to produce a full biography of Ketchel Clay, the more I read about him the further up my list of guys who is crying out for a decent biography.
And you call yourself a boxing fan.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by cmoyle Tue 04 Oct 2011, 3:18 pm
Yeah, I had given some serious thought to tackling a biography on Ketchel at one point and even went so far as to compile quite a bit of research materials. But, then a biography came out about him not too l ago and I decided to forget about it for the time being. Maybe one day.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Fists of Fury Tue 04 Oct 2011, 3:25 pm
A biography on Ketchel would certainly be well received, I'd imagine.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Rowley Tue 04 Oct 2011, 3:27 pm
cmoyle wrote:Yeah, I had given some serious thought to tackling a biography on Ketchel at one point and even went so far as to compile quite a bit of research materials. But, then a biography came out about him not too l ago and I decided to forget about it for the time being. Maybe one day.
Do you know the name of the biography Clay, think I saw one on Amazon but it was pretty poorly received from the couple of reviews I read, if there is another one or the reviews I read are not correct would be great if there was a decent book on him out there.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by cmoyle Tue 04 Oct 2011, 4:00 pm
It was the one you saw on Amazon, 'Stanley Ketchel: A Life of Triumph and Prophecy.' There are some problems with the book but a lot of it is correct. I do think there would be room for another one on him, I just decided not to tackle it at this time because that one had come out and there were plenty of other deserving subjects that nobody had written about yet.
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by Waingro Tue 04 Oct 2011, 5:31 pm
If the fight was a fix then they should both havve been suspended or banned imo
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Re: Articles in Week of Ketchel's Death
by The Galveston Giant Thu 06 Oct 2011, 7:54 pm
It was agreed a lot that fights would go a certain distance for the camera's and fans Waingro, there was strange circumstances which we'll never know the truth about now though in the Johnson/Ketchel fight. My belief is that whatever the arrangement was Stanley tried to KO him with a cheap shot, the punch seemed a decent one which caught Jack high on the head and square on. Johnson seemingly knocked a few of Ketchel's teeth out with his punch when he got up and they stuck in his glove, when he goes to the corner you can clearly see him look down at his gloves and wipe them, but again we don't know if thats the truth. They both looked like genuine knockdowns to me whatever arrangement was in place, Ketchel looked like he was out cold.
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