Heavyweight Champion Jack Dempsey The “Manassa Mauler” and his history at Kingsborough – The Kingsborough Blog Brooklyn , Coast Guard , CUNY , History , Merchant Marine , Photographs Lt. Commander Jack Dempsey at the Manhattan Beach Coast Guard Training Facility now Kingsborough Community College. During World War II , former World Heavyweight Champion Jack Dempsey was commissioned as a lieutenant in the Coast Guard Reserve. He reported for active duty on 12 June 1942 at Coast Guard Training Station, Manhattan Beach, Brooklyn, New York, (Now Kingsborough Community College) where he was assigned as “Director of Physical Education.” He was promoted to lieutenant commander (temporary) in December 1942 and commander (temporary) in March of 1944. Damon Runyan nicknamed Dempsey the “Manassa Mauler” during the fighter’s first, unsuccessful trip to New York, in 1916. In 1944 he was assigned to the transport USS Wakefield. In 1945 he was on the attack transport USS Arthur Middleton for the invasion of Okinawa.

Commander Jack Dempsey, holding rifle, rides a Coast Guard landing craft to the Okinawa Beach in the Philippines a few hours after the initial attack began on the Japanese Ryuku Island in April, 1945 during World War II. The former heavyweight champion is an officer in the U.S. Coast Guard. (AP Photo) In July of 1945 he assigned to the Commander, 11th Naval District for assignment to Military Morale Duty. In fact he even wrote a book about his time at the Manhattan Beach Coast Guard Training Station titled ” How to Fight Tough”. . His orders: “Make ’em tough!” His task: to teach rookie Coast Guardsmen how to fight down and dirty in the face of the very real threat of enemy troops infiltrating American shores. Get in the ring with “the Manassa Mauler” as he gives 18 fully illustrated lessons in the art of bashing and brawling on the battlefield, including Subduing an Armed Enemy, The Unbreakable Strangle, Beating the Punch, Hammering Your Way Jack Dempsey first started boxing professionally in 1914.

He first started boxing under the name of “Kid Blacky” and later boxed under the name of the “Manassa Mauler” after his home town of Manassa, Colorado. Throughout the 1920’s and 1930’s he was extremely popular and is probably one of the most popular boxing champions of all times. circa 1935: American heavyweight boxer Jack Dempsey (1895 – 1983) strikes a sparring pose for the camera while wearing his boxing gloves. (Photo by Keystone/Getty Images) Jack Dempsey and Babe Ruth-two of the most famous athletes of the 1920’s and good friends at the Ansonia Hotel in NYC. So when World War II rolled around he jumped at the chance to serve. He was first commissioned as a Lieutenant in the New York State Army National Guard, but he resigned and took a commission United States Coast Guard and would advance to the rank of Commander. Eulance Peacock, member of the 1930 American Olympic Team and co-holder with Jesse Owens of the world’s 100-yard dash record, leads a class in sitting up exercises at Manhattan Beach Coast Guard training station.

Dempsey was made Director of Physical Education at The Coast Guards Manhattan Beach Training Facility in Brooklyn New York. Instead of just teaching physical fitness Dempsey taught the new recruits how to fight. He worked with B.J. Cosneck, who was the Coast Guards hand-to-hand combat expert and a college wrestling champion. Dempsey and Cosneck would prepare the recruits to fight it out on the battlefield or in a barroom brawl. They would teach recruits self defense techniques from come-alongs to strangles. During his time with Cosneck, Dempsey would write his first book titled appropriately “How to Fight Tough.” Paul (Tiny) Wyatt, one-time leading contender for heavyweight boxing honors, sparring with Hart Kraeten, former Golden Gloves champ, at the Manhattan Beach Coast Guard station. The book was easy to follow guide that told soldiers and sailors how to fight. It included boxing, wrestling, and jujutsu techniques. B.J. Cosneck would write his own book called American Combat Judo after the war which is also another less known but no less important work in the field of martial arts and close combat. Manhattan Beach Coast Guard training station.

Lou Ambers, former world’s lightweight champion, sparring with Marty Servo, well-known pro, as Eristus Sams, former Tuskegee football and track star, referees. All three are boxing instructors at the Manhattan Beach Coast Guard training station Training countless sailors would have been enough for Dempsey to silence most critics, but while serving as a morale officer in the Pacific he would achieve heroic status. During the invasion of Okinawa the last Japanese strong hold before Japan Dempsey was serving on the attack transport USS Arthur Middleton as the morale officer which was a non-combat assignment. When Dempsey then age 49 saw men he trained going into combat he insisted he go along and join the fight. For that act he would make himself a Coast Guard hero. After the war he would continue to serve with Coast Guard Reserve until 1952. As a solider and a world class competitor, Dempsey understood the difference between sport combat and real combat, and made sure every man he trained knew it. Strangely, though, Mr. Dempsey’s popularity never approached its peak until he had lost the championship.

He was reviled as a slacker during World War I, and although a jury exonerated him of a charge of draft-dodging, the odium clung to him until the night Gene Tunney punched him almost blind and took his title. ”Lead me out there,” Jack told his trainer after that bout. ”I want to shake his hand.” Back in their hotel, Estelle Taylor Dempsey was appalled by her husband’s battered face. ”Ginsberg!” she cried, using her pet name for him. ”What happened?” ”Honey,” the former champion said, ”I forgot to duck.” From that day on, the gallant loser was a folk hero whose fame never diminished. Almost 23 years after he lost the championship, he was having breakfast with friends in Chicago, where Ezzard Charles and Jersey Joe Walcott were to box the following night for his old title, left vacant by the retirement of Joe Louis. A stranger passing their table recognized the old champion. Manhattan Beach Coast Guard training station. Boxing is compulsory in the four-week intensive course at Manhattan Beach Coast Guard training station. Lou Ambers, former world’s lightweight contender, show a class of enrollees how to lead and block punches.

”Jack Dempsey!” he said, offering his hand. ”Oh, boy, Jack, do I know you! Do I remember how you gave it to Jack Willard back there in Toledo!” Leaning forward, he put his face close to Jack’s ear, and his voice dropped to a conspiratorial level. ”I hope you beat hell out of that guy tomorrow night,” he said and turned away. Speechless for an instant, Mr. Dempsey stared after him. ”Well, I’ll be damned,” he said. ”He thinks I’m still champion!” To many, Mr. Dempsey always remained the champion, and he always comported himself like one. He was warm and generous, a free spender when he had it and a soft touch for anybody down on his luck. After retirement from the ring, he made his headquarters in New York in Jack Dempsey’s Restaurant, first at the corner of 50th Street across Eighth Avenue from the old Madison Square Garden and later at 1619 Broadway, where his partner was Jack Amiel, whose colt, Count Turf, won the Kentucky Derby. At almost any hour, Mr.

Dempsey was on hand to greet friends and strangers with a cordial, ”Hiya, pal,” in a voice close to a boyish treble. (He wasn’t much better at remembering names than Babe Ruth, who called people ”kid.”) He posed for thousands of photographs with an arm around a customer’s shoulders or – if the customer preferred, and many males did -squared off face to face. Autographing tens of thousands of menus, he never scribbled an impersonal ”Jack Dempsey” but always took the trouble to write the recipient’s name and add ”good luck” or ”keep punching.” His ebullient good humor was even demonstrated against the occasional drunk who simply had to try out his Sunday punch on the old champion. circa 1926: Actor Rudolph Valentino (1895 – 1926) with heavyweight boxer Jack Dempsey (1895 – 1983). (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images) Grantland Rice said Mr. Dempsey was perhaps the finest gentleman, in the literal sense of gentle man, he had met in half a century of writing sports; Mr.

Dempsey never knowingly hurt anyone except in the line of business. Jack Dempsey and Charlie Chaplin In the ring, he was a tiger without mercy who shuffled forward in a bobbing crouch, humming a barely audible tune and punching to the rhythm of the song. He was 187 pounds of unbridled violence. That isn’t big by heavyweight standards, yet in the judgment of some, this black-browed product of Western mining camps and hobo jungles was the best of all pugilists. In 1950, a poll by The Associated Press named Mr. Dempsey the greatest fighter of the half-century. September 15, 1923: Jack Dempsey/Babe Ruth/Christy Walsh Certainly nobody surpassed him in color and crowd appeal. He drew boxing’s first million-dollar gate in fighting Georges Carpentier, boxing’s largest paid attendance in his first bout with Tunney and the biggest ”live” gate in their second meeting. As champion, Tunney received $990,445 for the latter fight, which grossed $2,658,660.

He gave Tex Rickard, the promoter, his personal check for $9,555 and Mr. Rickard wrote a check for $1 million, the biggest purse ever collected for a single performance in sports before the days of closed-circuit television. Dempsey was less than two weeks past his 24th birthday but had been through more than 80 professional fights, some unrecorded, when he burst upon the championship scene like a mortar shell. It was July 4, 1919, a blistering day on the shore of Maumee Bay outside Toledo, Ohio. Awaiting the opening bell as challenger for the heavyweight title, the 6-foot-1-inch contender was tanned and fit at 187 pounds. But he looked no more than half the size of Jess Willard, the champion, a pale tract of meat measuring 6 feet 6 1/2 inches tall and weighing 245 pounds. Three minutes later Willard looked like a case for the coroner. He had been down seven times, and one left hook had broken his cheekbone in 13 places.

Thinking the seventh knockdown had ended the fight, Dempsey and his manager, Jack (Doc) Kearns, left the ring but were called back. After two more rounds the helpless Willard was spared further damage when one of his seconds signaled surrender by throwing a towel into the ring. Now it was Dempsey, heavyweight champion of the world, and the bottom line of his record read: ”KO 3.” But the winner’s jubilation was tempered by the discovery that Mr. Kearns had bet $10,000 of their guarantee on a first-round knockout, taking odds of 10 to 1, and the remaining $17,500 had gone for ”training expenses,” an omnibus term in the manager’s lexicon. Joe Louis, Joe Frazier, and Jack Dempsey In a ghost-written autobiography many years later, Mr. Kearns took partial credit for the destructive effect of his man’s punches. He wrote that he had used plaster-of-paris bandages on Dempsey’s hand and that these had hardened into casts inside the gloves after being doused with water.

Dempsey denied that his gloves had been loaded, and the tale never won general acceptance because Doc Kearns was known to be a creative artist who seldom let truth spoil a good story. The destruction of Willard convinced boxing men of the new champion’s greatness, but the public was slow to accept Dempsey because of his war record. Ostensibly doing essential work in a Philadelphia shipyard, he had posed for a news photograph holding a riveting gun and wearing overalls, with patent-leather shoes. The fancy footgear raised noisy doubts about his contribution to the war effort. More than two years after the armistice, Mr. Rickard capitalized on this unfavorable publicity to build up the first million-dollar gate. Carpentier, the light-heavyweight champion, had been decorated in the French armed forces. When Mr. Rickard matched Dempsey with the Paris boulevardier in a wooden arena called Boyle’s 30 Acres in Jersey City, the ”hero” became a sentimental favorite over the ”slacker.” A crowd of 80,183 paid $1,789,238 to see Dempsey win by a knockout in the fourth round. Having broken all financial records, Dempsey and Mr.

Kearns proceeded to break the city of Shelby, Mont. After an oil strike near their small community, Shelby boosters gave way to delusions of grandeur and promised the champion $250,000 to defend his title against the light-hitting Tommy Gibbons. The promotion laid an egg, but Mr. Kearns collected the entire guarantee and had a locomotive and caboose waiting to rush the money and the champion’s party out of town as soon as Dempsey had won on points. Behind them, the banks that had put up the cash closed. Shelby had a hole in the seat of its civic breeches for a generation. To those who saw it, the Dempsey-Firpo bout of 1923 was the most wildly exciting ever fought for the heavyweight title. Luis Angel Firpo of Argentina, unpolished and untamed, dazed the champion with a right to the jaw seconds after the opening bell. Only half-conscious, Dempsey dropped Firpo four times. Firpo knocked the champion into the press row, where reporters instinctively raised hands and shoved to protect themselves. Thus aided, Dempsey got back in the ring and put Firpo down once more before the bell.

Two more knockdowns finished the Argentine in the second round. The Firpo fight was Dempsey’s fifth title defense (he had knocked out Billy Miske and Bill Brennan before meeting Carpentier). Three years later he made his sixth and last against Tunney, the Shakespeare-loving veteran of the Marine Corps who had moved into heavyweight ranks after winning the American light-heavyweight championship, losing it and winning it back. ”I never seed anything like it,” Mr. Rickard said, watching 120,757 customers crowd into the huge horseshoe in Philadelphia then called Sesquicentennial Stadium. The promoter had been told the fight would draw big in Philadelphia, but he had not dreamed what a stir it would make. Down in Maryland, for instance, was a racing official named Jim Milton. He was the starter when the Havre de Grace track opened in 1912, and when he retired half a century later he had started every race at that track except the last one on the program on Sept. 23, 1926. He left that to an assistant starter and caught a train for Philadelphia and the fight. Many years afterward Mr. Tunney was told about Mr.

Milton’s only dereliction. ”He probably was betting on Dempsey,” he said. If he was, he lost. Jabbing and circling through a drenching rainstorm, Tunney won going away. One day less than a year later, the pair met again in Soldier Field in Chicago in a match that would make Dave Barry the world’s most widely known referee. In the seventh round Tunney was knocked down for the first time in his life. Gracious outside the ring, Dempsey in battle was no slave to the rules. Not many years ago, when Joe Frazier was champion, he was scandalized by films of Dempsey crouching over a fallen Firpo ready to slug him as he rose. ”That’s bad for boxing,” Frazier protested. With Tunney on the floor, it did not occur to Dempsey to retire to a neutral corner until Barry stopped the count and led him across the ring. Returning, the referee started the count all over. Tunney got up at ”9” – it was established that he had had about 14 seconds to recuperate – and won a clear decision, scoring a knockdown in the eighth round.

To this day, the Dempsey cult believes Tunney was saved by the long count; Tunney always insisted he was in full control throughout. That was the last time around for Dempsey as a fighter of importance. Thirty-two years had passed since his birth on June 24, 1895, in Manassa, Colo., to Hyrum and Celia Dempsey, who had paused there with their brood on a meandering journey from Mudfork, W.Va. Manassa was only one of many stops for a nomadic family, but years later the fact that Mrs. Dempsey had given birth there inspired Damon Runyon, the sportswriter, to dub the new champion the Manassa Mauler. Hyrum Dempsey was a tough, restless descendant of Irish immigrants who had quit a job as schoolteacher to venture west. There was a strain of Indian blood in both parents revealed in the baby’s blueblack hair and high cheekbones. They named him William Harrison Dempsey and called him Harry, but at 16 he went his own way and adopted his own names. The first was Kid Blackie. For about three years he fought under that name in mountain mining camps.

Between saloon bouts he worked in the mines, shined shoes, picked fruit and hustled, riding the rods on trains and sleeping in hobo jungles. Meanwhile, his older brother, Bernie, was boxing as Jack Dempsey, having borrowed the name of an oldtime middleweight known as ”the Nonpareil.” One night in Denver, Harry substituted for Bernie and was introduced as Jack Dempsey. The name stuck. He was managed for a while by one Jack Price and later by John (the Barber) Reisler before he and Mr. Kearns became partners. They started slowly but picked up speed as they moved. By the time they reached Maumee Bay and the rendezvous with Willard, Dempsey’s record included 21 first-round knockouts. If any other puncher ever dealt such swift destruction to so many, the record books do not report it. Willard had won the championship in 1915 and defended it once in a 10-round no-decision match with Frank Moran in 1916. On Feb.

15, 1918, an item in The New York Times reported that Dempsey had knocked out Fireman Jim Flynn in one round, adding that Willard had agreed to meet the winner of a bout between Dempsey and Fred Fulton. That bout took place on July 28, 1918. It lasted 23 seconds. One punch was thrown, a right by Dempsey. Fulton was counted out and his name entered in the long list of Dempsey’s victims -Gunboat Smith, Carl Morris, Bill Brennan, Billy Miske, Battling Levinsky, Arthur Pelkey. There wasn’t a heavyweight of repute Dempsey hadn’t beaten, except Willard. After taking care of that oversight, the new champion took his time about defending his title. In 1920 he took on two of his old victims, Miske and Brennan, and disposed of them. In 1921 he beat Carpentier, in 1922 he rested, and in 1923 he beat Tommy Gibbons and Firpo. Three years intervened before he fought again and lost to Tunney. Like John L.

Sullivan, Jim Corbett and other champions before him, he gave the stage at least as much attention as he bestowed on the ring. He accepted a featured role on Broadway in a play called ”The Big Fight,” directed by David Belasco. The feminine lead was Estelle Taylor, his wife. In his early days in the mining camps, he had been married to Maxine Gates, a saloon piano player, but not for long. Miss Taylor was a star of silent films whom he met in Hollywood. After their Broadway adventure, they went back to Hollywood and made a movie called ”Manhattan Madness,” which was also a disaster. By this time Dempsey and his manager had fallen out. A series of suits and countersuits kept them in litigation right up to the Philadelphia match with Tunney in 1926. The distraction was no help to Dempsey in his preparation for the bout, but when he lost, he did not mention this as an excuse. He had learned that fighters suffer many distractions. ”Some night,” he told a young boxer, ”you’ll catch a punch between the eyes and all of a sudden you’ll see three guys in the ring against you.

Pick out the one in the middle and hit him, because he’s the one who hit you.” Mr. Dempsey and Miss Taylor were divorced, and he married the singer Hannah Williams. They had two daughters, Joan in 1934 and Barbara in 1936. He and Miss Williams were divorced in 1943. In 1958 he was married for the fourth time, to the former Deanna Piattelli, who survives. He later adopted her daughter from a previous marriage. She took the name Barbara Dempsey and helped him write his 1977 autobiography, ”Dempsey.” In 1938 Mr. Dempsey was the first winner of the Edward J. Neil Memorial Plaque, awarded by the New York Boxing Writers Association to the man who had done the most for boxing that year. He was elected to the Boxing Hall of Fame in 1954. Except during World War II, when he enlisted in the Coast Guard and was commissioned a lieutenant commander, he remained identified with the ring, as a referee of boxing and wrestling and a participant in various promotions. In the early days of Louis’ reign as champion, Mr.

Dempsey lent his name and restaurant facilities to a ”white hope” tournament, a term that had survived in boxing long after its racial implications had evaporated. Dropping into Dempsey’s, John Lardner, the writer, saw a horde of young males devouring steak and chops. ”Finest bunch of white hopes ever assembled,” the proprietor said proudly. ”What about him?” Mr. Lardner asked, indicating a husky young black in the middle of the pack. Mr. Dempsey fetched him a slap on the shoulder. ”You got a good eye for a fighter,” he said.

”He’s the best prospect in the bunch.” Share this: UI Press | Randy Roberts | Jack Dempsey: The Manassa Mauler Jack Dempsey The Manassa Mauler An incisive and fast paced biography about one of boxing all time greats and Heavyweight Champion of the World from 1919 to 1926 Heavyweight Champion of the World from 1919 to 1926, Jack Dempsey, also known as the Manassa Mauler, began his boxing career as a skinny boy of sixteen, riding the rails and participating in hastily staged saloon bouts against miners and lumberjacks. In this incisive, fast-paced biography, Randy Roberts charts the life and career of a man widely regarded as one of the toughest ever to enter the ring. He details Dempsey's transition from barroom fights to professional boxing and his emerging reputation for fast, brutal knockouts. Roberts draws on a wealth of newspaper articles and interviews to chronicle Dempsey's rise to the heavyweight championship and his six title defenses.

Also included are accounts of the eventual loss of his title to Gene Tunney in 1926, and the rematch in 1927, which Dempsey also lost in the infamous "long count." After continuing to fight in exhibitions, Dempsey retired from boxing in 1940 with an astonishing 64 victories, 49 of them knockouts. Roberts tells of the building of this record, including accounts of Dempsey's forays into Hollywood, the controversy over his alleged draft-dodging, his long life after retirement, and his enduring legacy as one of the greatest fighters in boxing history. "In a creative and flowing literary style, but with keen attention to detail and judicious analyses of his material, Roberts approaches the heralded heavyweight champion as a legend and symbol of his age. . . . Jack Dempsey: The Manassa Mauler is a first-rate slice of Americana. It is fresh, witty, entertaining, and serious."--Washington Post Book World "This is Jack Dempsey complete, warts and all. . . .

Roberts' separate chapters on the great Dempsey fights, from Willard to Tunny, are not only superb but, by virtue of prodigious research, definitive."--Robert Nisbet, American Scholar "This biography abounds in detail, atmosphere, and anecdotes of the Dempsey career. . . . Randy Roberts has written a biography true to Jack Dempsey and to a forever gone era of boisterous innocence."--Wall Street Journal Randy Roberts is a professor of history at Purdue University. He is the author or coauthor of many books, including A Line in the Sand: The Alamo in Blood and Memory; John Wayne: American; Heavy Justice: The State of Indiana v. Michael G. Tyson; and Winning Is the Only Thing: Sports in America since 1945. To order online: Jack Dempsey Dies This Day May 23, 1983 Synopsis Jack Dempsey was born on June 24, 1895, in the Mormon village of Manassa, Colorado. As a boy, he worked as a farm hand, miner and cowboy and was taught to box by his older brother.

Dempsey’s early prize fights were in mining towns around Salt Lake City but on July 4, 1919, he beat Jess Willard “The Great White Hope,” and became world heavyweight champion. He defended his title five times but lost to Gene Tunney in 1926. Dempsey died in 1983. Early Years Born William Harrison Dempsey on June 24, 1895, in Manassa, Colorado, Jack Dempsey’s parents, Hyrum and Celia Dempsey, were originally from West Virginia, where his father had worked as a schoolteacher. Around 1880, a missionary group of Latter-Day Saints visited Dempsey’s parents and converted them to Mormonism. Soon after, they moved west to the tiny Mormon village of Manassa in southern Colorado, where Dempsey was born. Although Hyrum Dempsey later abandoned Mormonism, his wife remained faithful and observant throughout her life, and Jack Dempsey was raised in the church. The boxer later described his own religious beliefs: “I’m proud to be a Mormon.

And ashamed to be the Jack Mormon that I am.” Following their move from West Virginia, Dempsey’s father and his two older brothers worked as miners, and the family moved frequently around Colorado and Utah in pursuit of mining jobs. At the age of 8, Jack Dempsey took his first job picking crops on a farm near Steamboat Springs, Colarado. Over the next few years, he worked as a farm hand, miner and cowboy to help support his struggling family. As an adult, Dempsey often said that he loved three kinds of work—boxing, mining and cowboying—and would have been equally happy doing any of the three. During these years, Dempsey’s older brother, Bernie, earned extra money as a prizefighter in the saloons of hardscrabble Rocky Mountain towns. It was Bernie who taught young Jack how to fight, instructing him to chew pine tar gum to strengthen his jaw and soak his face in brine to toughen his skin. When Dempsey was 12 years old, his family settled in Provo, Utah, where he attended Lakeview Elementary School. He dropped out of school after the eighth grade, though, to begin working full time.

He shined shoes, picked crops and worked at a sugar refinery, unloading beets for a measly ten cents per ton. By the age of 17, Dempsey had developed into a skilled young boxer, and decided he could make more money fighting than working. For the next five years, from 1911-16, Dempsey traveled from mining town to mining town, picking up fights wherever he could. His home base was Peter Jackson’s Saloon in Salt Lake City, where a local organizer named Hardy Downey arranged his fights. Going by the name “Kid Blackie,” in his Salt Lake City debut, Dempsey knocked out his opponent, a boxer by the name of “One Punch Hancock,” in just one punch. Downey was so angry that he made Dempsey fight another opponent before he paid him. Bernie Dempsey was still prizefighting at that time, calling himself Jack Dempsey, after the great 19th century boxer Jack “Nonpareil” Dempsey. One day in 1914, Bernie fell ill, and his younger brother offered to fill in for him.

Assuming the name Jack Dempsey for the first time that night, he won his brother’s fight decisively and never relinquished the name. By 1917, Dempsey had earned enough of a reputation to book more prominent and better-paying fights in San Francisco and on the East Coast. A Boxing Champion On Independence Day in 1919, Dempsey got his first big opportunity: A fight against world heavyweight champion Jess Willard. Nicknamed “The Great White Hope,” Willard stood a menacing 6 feet 6 inches tall and weighed in at 245 pounds. No one in the boxing world thought the 6’1″, 187-pound Dempsey stood a chance. Despite his enormous disadvantage in size, Dempsey dominated Willard with his superior quickness and ruthless tactics, knocking the bigger man out in the third round to earn the title of world heavyweight champion. The Willard-Dempsey fight became the subject of controversy in 1964, when Dempsey’s former manager, Jack Kearns—who, by this time, had fallen out with Dempsey—claimed that he had “loaded” the boxer’s gloves with Plaster of Paris.

The “loaded glove” theory held some credence because of the seemingly extraordinary amount of damage Dempsey did to Willard’s face. However, film evidence revealed Willard inspecting Dempsey’s gloves before the fight, making it highly improbable that the fighter could have cheated. Dempsey successfully defended his heavyweight title five times over the next six years, in what is considered one of the greatest runs in boxing history. Despite his successes in the ring during this period, however, Dempsey was not particularly popular with the public. He had not served in the military when the United States entered World War I in 1917, leading some to view him as a slacker and draft dodger. Furthermore, an infamous and widely ridiculed photograph showed Dempsey at a Philadelphia shipyard, supposedly hard at work, but wearing shiny patent-leather shoes. Strangely, Dempsey finally achieved widespread popularity when he lost his championship title. On September 23, 1926, he was defeated by challenger Gene Tunney before a record crowd of 120,000 fans in Philadelphia. When the bruised and battered Dempsey returned to his hotel that night, his wife, shocked at his gruesome appearance, asked him what happened.

“Honey,” Dempsey famously answered. “I forgot to duck.” The hilarious and self-effacing anecdote made Dempsey something of a folk legend for the rest of his life. A year later, in 1927, Dempsey challenged Tunney to a rematch in a fight that would become one of the most controversial in boxing history. Dempsey knocked Tunney down in the seventh round, but forgot a new rule requiring him to return to a neutral corner while the referee counted, extending the pause in the fight. Dempsey’s slipup afforded Tunney at least five precious extra seconds to recover and return to his feet, and Tunney eventually won the fight. Although Dempsey fans argue that he would have won if not for the “long count,” Tunney maintained that he was in control throughout the fight. After his second loss to Tunney, Dempsey retired from boxing, but remained a prominent cultural figure. He opened Jack Dempsey’s Restaurant in New York City, where he was famous for his hospitality and willingness to chat with any customer who walked through his doors. He also tried his hand at acting.

He and his wife, actress Estelle Taylor, co-starred in a Broadway play called The Big Fight, and Dempsey appeared in a handful of films, including The Prizefighter and the Lady (1933) and Sweet Surrender (1935). During World War II, Dempsey put all questions surrounding his war record to rest by serving as a lieutenant commander in the Coast Guard. Personal Life and Legacy Dempsey married four times during his life, to Maxine Gates (1916-19), Estelle Taylor (1925-30), Hannah Williams (1933-43) and Deanna Piatelli (1958). He had two children with Williams, Joan and Barbara, and adopted a daughter with Piatelli. In 1977, he wrote an autobiography, Dempsey: The Autobiography of Jack Dempsey. He passed away from heart failure on May 31, 1983. Nicknamed the “Manassa Mauler,” Dempsey ranked second only to Babe Ruth among the great American sports icons of the 1920s.

He was inducted into the Boxing Hall of Fame in 1954, and many commentators still rank him among the ten greatest boxers of all time. Known for his ruthless, unbridled violence in a prizefight, Dempsey was renowned for his warmth, kindness and generosity outside of the ring. He displayed a level of sportsmanship perhaps unrivaled in the history of the notoriously violent sport. Half-dazed and heartbroken after his loss to Tunney in the controversial “long count” match, Dempsey offered his opponent nothing but his earnest congratulations. “Lead me out there,” he said to his trainer because he could not walk straight. “I want to shake his hand.” Fittest Boxers of All-Time | Men's Fitness Fittest Boxers of All-Time Five fighters who achieved physical greatness by Devin Pratt Based on in-ring stamina, raw power, and an obsessive commitment to fitness, MF judged these five legends to be the most amazing physical specimens to ever set foot in the ring.

Boxing Career: 1914 - 1927 Record: Won 66 (KO 51), Lost 6 (KO 1), Draw 11 Today's boxers benefit from modern training methods and nutritional supplements—that wasn't the case for old school brawlers like Jack Dempsey. Instead of learning the ropes at local gyms, the Manassa Mauler left home at 16 and made a living working odd jobs and challenging bar patrons to fight him for money. When he finally turned pro in 1914, he would prepare for fights by jumping rope, shadow boxing, situps, pushups, chopping firewood, and swinging a sledgehammer. Dempsey even chewed a type of thick, sticky gum made out of pine tar in hopes of building up his chin and jaw. It must have worked—the champ suffered only one KO in his professional career.

Notable Quote: "A champion is someone who gets up when he can't." Record: Won 66 (KO 52), Lost 3 (KO 2), Draw 0 Considered by many boxing aficionados to be the greatest heavyweight in history, Joe Louis was known for delivering short, compact, devastating punches. As a boy, Louis would help out his family by making a few extra dollars hauling ice up the steps of tenement buildings in Detroit. He said that helped him to develop a strong physique early on in life. When the Brown Bomber turned pro in 1934, his trainer, Jack "Chappie" Blackburn, would have Louis row around a lake to help build up the champ's arms and shoulders. Louis was also known to catch flies in midair to improve his reflexes. Another training tactic was to spar with his right hand tied to the ropes—this helped him improve his left. Notable quote: "Once that bell rings you're on your own.

It's just you and the other guy." Record: Won 50 (KO 44), Lost 6 (KO 5), Draw 0 Built like a pit bull (with a mindset to match), Mike Tyson was blessed with an abundance of brute strength and a strong work ethic. During his training days, Iron Mike used to get up at 4 a.m. for a three-mile jog, followed by a day of sparring, riding the exercise bike, 2000 situps, and a full battery of upper-body work. The end result was incredibly massive legs and a rock-solid core that left his opponents in awe. At his peak, Tyson had the lethal combination of tools needed to be a monumental fighter: phenomenal power, lightning quick punches, and a ruthless demeanor. Notable Quote: "I just want them to keep bringing guys on and I'm going to strip them of their health. I bring pain, a lot of pain." Record: Won 42 (KO 27), Lost 10 (KO 2), Draw 2 A fighter who shunned the old-school methods of training, Evander Holyfield instead saw the value of nutritional supplements, fitness experts, and pumping hard iron.

During the peak of his career, the Real Deal built a $100,000 gym next to his home and hired a strength and conditioning trainer to add bulk and stamina to Holyfield's repertoire. An emphasis was put on fully utilizing cutting-edge techniques, including a custom-made harness machine to maximize Holyfield's power and endurance. This modern approach, coupled with the champ's obsessive work ethic, resulted in near anatomical perfection. Notable Quote: "I always go to the gyms and watch heavyweights. I'm always casing the gyms because one of those guys may end up wanting to fight me. That is just my competitiveness." Jack Dempsey | American boxer | Britannica.com American boxer Alternative Titles: Kid Blackie, Manassa Mauler, William Harrison Dempsey Jack Dempsey Mike Tyson Jack Dempsey, byname of William Harrison Dempsey, also called the Manassa Mauler (born June 24, 1895, Manassa, Colo., U.S.—died May 31, 1983, New York , N.Y.), American world heavyweight boxing champion, regarded by many as the apotheosis of the professional fighter.

He held the title from July 4, 1919, when he knocked out Jess Willard in three rounds in Toledo , Ohio, until Sept. 23, 1926, when he lost a 10-round decision to Gene Tunney in Philadelphia . Dempsey fought 84 bouts, winning 62, 51 of which were by knockout. Dempsey started boxing in 1914 under the name Kid Blackie. In 1918 and early 1919 he compiled an impressive number of knockouts, most in the first round, to earn a fight with Willard. The 37-year-old champion proved no match for young Dempsey, who attacked ferociously from the starting bell and knocked Willard to the floor seven times in the first round. Even more primitive in its intensity was Dempsey’s title defense against Argentine heavyweight Luis Angel Firpo in New York City on Sept. 14, 1923. After being knocked out of the ring in the first round, Dempsey battered Firpo into defeat in the second. Jack Dempsey. Jack Dempsey.

Hirz—Archive Photos/Getty Images During the next three years Dempsey fought only exhibition matches, and at the age of 31 he found that he had aged too much to deal with the carefully trained Tunney in their first fight. On Sept. 22, 1927, in Chicago , they met again in the famous “ Battle of the Long Count,” in which Dempsey forfeited his chance for a seventh-round knockout by standing over the fallen Tunney rather than going to a neutral corner of the ring. Tunney recovered to win another 10-round decision. Gene Tunney (right) fighting Jack Dempsey, 1927. UPI/Bettmann Archive In his boxing style Dempsey kept on the offensive almost continuously, bobbing up and down and moving from side to side as he delivered short swinging blows out of a crouch. His constant movement and the speed of his attack constituted his defense. In the 1930s Dempsey appeared in many exhibitions, but he was never again a serious contender for the championship. In 1940 he had three knockout victories over unaccomplished opponents before retiring to referee boxing and wrestling matches.

In World War II he served as a lieutenant commander in the Coast Guard. He eventually became a successful restaurateur in New York City. Dempsey published several books on boxing. His autobiographies include Round by Round (1940), Dempsey (1960), and Dempsey: The Autobiography of Jack Dempsey (1977). He was inducted into Ring magazine’s Boxing Hall of Fame in 1954. Jack Dempsey. The Best-Ever British Boxing Nicknames | Bleacher Report The Best-Ever British Boxing Nicknames Use your ← → (arrow) keys to browse the slideshow Associated Press David Haye and Gavin Rees 8.0K 13 Comments Perhaps no sport is as linked with nicknames as boxing, so much so that when Sylvester Stallone penned Rocky, he gave no fewer than five to fictional heavyweight champion Apollo Creed .

Fighters have always attracted monikers, going back to 19th-century champ Nonpareil Dempsey and beyond, but really took off around the 1920s, spearheaded by that era's heavyweight king Jack Dempsey—"The Manassa Mauler." British boxing was not always so enamoured with the nickname, associating it more with the hoopla and razzmatazz of the US, where it was a sport for the press pack to coin a nom-de-guerre for upcoming contenders. Plenty of British champions such as Benny Lynch, Ken Buchanan and John Conteh never attracted a moniker that stuck. It's maybe not entirely coincidental that it was in the 1980s, the decade of the Big Bang and rampant commercialism, that the UK truly embraced the nickname. The likes of "Ragamuffin Man" Lloyd Honeyghan and "Clones Cyclone" Barry McGuigan won world titles and almost edge their way into this list. Consequently, this countdown is dominated by fighters of more recent vintage or those who fought on American soil and picked up a nickname there.

Among those who just missed out are Sheffield super-bantamweight Kid Galahad, lightweight contender Anthony "Million Dollar" Crolla and the always enigmatic early 2000s light-middleweight Richard "The Secret" Williams—a name that divides opinion but lodges itself in the memory. And now, here are the 15 best-ever nicknames in British boxing. Years Active: 1989-2003 Record: 41-2-1 with 32 KOs Early in his career, Lewis was known as "The Lion," but later on he coined his own more distinctive moniker as "The Pugilist Specialist." It fit Lewis' self-styling as a cerebral fighter who talked of his fondness for chess, and although this didn't always go down well with American audiences, he ultimately emerged as the king of the 1990s heavyweights, avoided by Riddick Bowe before defeating Evander Holyfield and Mike Tyson. This nickname may not inspire fear in the heart of opponents but suited a fighter who could systematically take opponents apart, ultimately registering wins over every man he faced.

Years Active: 1986-2002 Record: 31-12-1 with 11 KOs Pictured above is Silky Jones on the left in a British title fight against one of the worst nicknamed Brits—"Spice Boy" Ryan Rhodes. Before footballers had "good tekkers" or other such recent abominations, they had "silky skills." Paul Jones brought the term to boxing even if wasn't always as silky as he may have made out with 12 losses on his record, four by way of knockout. However, he did claim the WBO light-middleweight title back in 1995 with a huge upset win over Verno Phillips, a great effort on the night and what remains his claim to fame. With a distinctively British use of the word "silky" and the telling fact that he was often referred to in print as just Silky Jones, so that some may not even know his first name, this has to rank highly. File alongside "Sugar" Ray Robinson and "Mantequilla" Jose Napoles.

Years Active: 1901-1913, 1919 Record: 53-3-5 with 35 KOs (plus 8 "newspaper decisions") Jim Driscoll wasn't literally undefeated, but like Nonpareil Dempsey before him, he lost very few fights at a time when top fighters took more risks and thus suffered more defeats. Driscoll had lost just once when in 1909 he beat world featherweight champion Abe Attell on points in a fight where it was stipulated that only a KO could win the Welsh challenger the crown. Despite winning 10 straight fights on US soil from late 1918 to early the next year, he never got the proper title shot he deserved but did claim the British and European belts. On the back of his excellent form in America, it was the legendary cowboy and U.S. newspaperman Bat Masterson who dubbed him "Peerless Jim," a label he thoroughly deserved.

Years Active: 2003- Record: 23-12 with 12 KOs Losing six of his first 11 fights, Ovill McKenzie was never supposed to get anywhere in the sport and hasn't benefited from major promotional backing at any point in his career. His nickname, "The Upsetter," recognises that he is reduced to the role of the away fighter looking to spring a surprise on the local favourite—but it's a role he has relished with notable successes. He nearly did for future world-title challenger Tony Bellew in Liverpool back in 2010, flooring Bellew hard in both of the opening two rounds before the Liverpudlian rallied. After losing a rematch with Bellew, he has bounced back, latterly as a cruiserweight holding both British and Commonwealth titles with five of his last six fights being early KO wins. London's Tony Conquest and County Durham's Jon-Lewis Dickinson are the two most recent victims to be upset in their backyards by McKenzie.

Years Active: 1926-1953 Record: 84-34-17 with 24 KOs In the 100-year span between the two undisputed British heavyweight champions—Bob Fitzsimmons and Lennox Lewis—Tommy Farr probably came closest to claiming the crown. He gave champion Joe Louis an unexpectedly tough night at Yankee Stadium in 1937, winning several rounds and going the distance whilst taking his own fair share of licks. It was his impressive performances on a US tour that continued into 1938 that won him the respect of US sports-writers, which has often been in short supply for British heavies, and with it the sobriquet of "The Tonypandy Terror." This evocative name was typical of the early 20th century and heavyweights such as "The Ambling Alp" Primo Carnera, "The Boston Gob" Jack Sharkey and "The Pottawatomie Giant" Jess Willard. Farr was a British champion and registered a win over former world champion Max Baer.

Years Active: 1978-1992, 1996-1998 Record: 48-6 with 28 KOs It has become something of a truism that Herol Graham was one of the best British fighters never to win a world-title, dropping a split-decision to Mike McCallum in 1989, knocked out by Julian Jackson the next year and stopped late against Charles Brewer on his comeback in 1997. The British WBO champions of the early 1990s, Nigel Benn and Chris Eubank, were none too keen to face Graham, seeing him as a high-risk, low-reward opponent. His nickname, "Bomber," was deliberately misleading, characterising him as a guy who would be looking for a big punch when he was in actuality a defensive maestro who could frustrate opponents with his unorthodox style and lightning reflexes. The name stuck firm, however, and to this day he is mentioned in print and on the airwaves as just "Bomber" Graham. Latterly Tony Bellew has adopted the same moniker but with less resonance.

Years Active: 2008- Record: 10-8 with 9 KOs Larry Olubamiwo is proof that a great nickname can only take you so far. A confessed comicbook fan, he adopted "The War Machine" from an Iron Man character. He was seen as something of a prospect, despite turning pro aged 30, and won 10 of his first 11 fights, all but one of them by KO. The former bodybuilder's limitations were brutally exposed in 2011 at the York Hall when John McDermott finished him inside the first round. Olubamiwo hasn't won since and sullied his reputation by failing a drugs test in 2012 before admitting to using 13 banned substances. Perhaps it's a shame that a name that conjures so much didn't find a better home, but it's a really good one and deserves its high placing.

Years Active: 1911-1921, 1923 Record: 132-3-1 with 99 KOs (plus 8 "newspaper decisions") Jimmy Wilde is arguably the best-ever British boxer pound-for-pound and was the world flyweight champion from 1916 to 1923. He attracted several nicknames including "The Mighty Atom" and "The Tylorstown Terror," but the most pictorial remains "The Ghost with the Hammer in His Hand." For much of his career, Wilde weighed in below 100 pounds when the flyweight limit is 112. At 5'2.5", he looked small and emaciated yet he still racked up an incredible 99 career knockouts. In 1999, The Ring ranked him the 13th-best fighter of the 20th century across all weight classes.

Years Active: 1904-1915 Record: 19-8-1 with 16 KOs Nearly 100 years before there was "Iron" Mike Tyson and Paul "Scrap Iron" Ryan, there was a Yorkshire heavyweight called Iron Hague. He won the British and European heavyweight titles in 1906 by first-round KO but lost against pound-for-pound legend Sam Langford in the same year, the American fighter himself memorably dubbed "The Boston Tar Baby." According to local historians from Mexborough, Hague's hometown, his was a childhood nickname bestowed on him for his iron self will and the ability to take severe corporal punishment without betraying any pain—good preparation for the prize ring. Iron Hague is not to be confused with his namesake and fellow Yorkshireman William Hague, the former Foreign Secretary and one-time Conservative leader. Years Active: 1987-1996 Record: 42-5-1 with 35 KOs Few fighters have embodied their nickname better than '"he Dark Destroyer" Nigel Benn, one of the flat-out most intimidating British boxers ever.

Benn came to destroy or be destroyed and only nine of his 48 fights went the distance—he was memorably outlasted by domestic rivals Michael Watson in 1989 and Chris Eubank in 1990. The Ilford man is notable for his willingness to travel and take on tough challenges, winning world titles on the road in two weight classes, seeing off Doug DeWitt, Iran Barkley and Mauro Galvano along the way. Benn was part of a glamorous era for British boxing when fights on ITV brought in more than 10 million viewers on several occasions . With his flash suits, menacing persona and impressive KO ratio, Benn was a popular favourite who more than lived up to his billing. Years Active: 2002-2012 Record: 26-2 with 24 KOs Some things are just meant to be. A big-swinging, big-punching cruiserweight turned heavyweight with the surname of Haye could only become "The Hayemaker." Incredibly the clip above shows that Haye made it many years in boxing before the lightning bolt struck and the seemingly most obvious of nicknames was adopted.

A pre-national treasure status Clare Balding makes some terrible alternative suggestions as well. Haye says in the interview, "I'm not going to use a nickname," which is probably the first of many occasions that he told the British public one thing and then did another. "The Hayemaker," now nearly 34, has not fought since 2012, but if he can return to fitness, there are some big domestic fights available against young up-and-comers Tyson Fury and Anthony Joshua. Years Active: 1910-1925 Record: 41-1 with 34 KOs Technically this is not a nickname but a military rank because Stepney heavyweight Billy Wells was a bombardier in the British Army before he became a professional boxer, with the perfect moniker already at hand. Wells followed Iron Hague as British heavyweight champion and also scored a win over Gunner Moir, who held the rank below bombardier in the Royal Artillery. After the outbreak of World War One, many of Wells' opponents had military-inflected names such as Guardsman Charlie Penwill, Soldier Jones and the less-than-fearsome-sounding Bandsman Dick Rice.

Wells would not have much success on the international stage, twice being knocked out in European title challenges against France's Georges Carpentier who had the singular nom-de-guerre of "The Orchid Man." Years Active: 1992-2002 Record: 36-1 with 31 KOs "You know I bring drama, excitement, you know me, Larry—from my wicked entrance, my flip over the ropes, to a knock-out." So the Prince summed himself up speaking to HBO in 2000. It was often remarked in the 1990s, a time when the Royal Family was perceived to be out of favour, that Prince Naseem was the most popular prince in the land, even if he wasn't too high up in the line of succession. The long-time world featherweight king elevated himself with his own title early in his boxing career, a typical act of bravado from a showman who ran on confidence.

The story may well be apocryphal, but when Hamed arrived in America for his first showcase fight against Kevin Kelley (pictured) with a huge HBO advertising spend behind him, it was said that some US observers genuinely believed he was descended from Yemeni royalty. Such was the pervasiveness and brilliance of the nickname Prince Naseem, a grandiose moniker which Hamed earned the right to bear with his hugely entertaining boxing career. All boxer records from BoxRec .

Question: ‘The Manassa Mauler’ was the nickname of which heavyweight boxing champion?
Answer: Jack DEMPSEY