The historic fight on July 4, 1910, between Jack Johnson, the first Black heavyweight champion of the world, and James J. Jeffries, the former white champion who came out of retirement to dethrone the “usurper,” always comes to mind for boxing history enthusiasts when delicate issues of multiethnic coexistence in the USA come to the forefront. Exactly 114 years after it took place, we have decided to recount that epochal fight.
Rampant Racism and the Outrage to Avenge
If American society today appears imbued with racial prejudice, the situation was far worse a century ago. In the early 1900s, hatred towards the Black population was not confined to the less educated social strata but was incredibly widespread within the white majority. So when, in July 1908, Johnson crossed the so-called “color line” by defeating the white Tommy Burns and becoming the heavyweight champion of the world, the outrage was general. Consider that Jack London, a world-famous writer and author of several literary masterpieces, commented on the event with these words: “There remains but one thing to do, and Jim Jeffries must emerge from his Alfalfa farm and remove that golden smile from Jack Johnson’s face. Jeff, it’s up to you. The White Man must be rescued.” Jeffries, undefeated in the ring but inactive since 1904, had retired to private life and, according to some accounts, weighed more than 285 pounds, but public pressure forced him to get back in shape to try to reclaim the throne.
From a Saloon Basement to Nevada: The “Fight of the Century” Finds Its Venue
Not everyone knows that the first venue where Johnson and Jeffries could have faced each other was the basement of a saloon managed by the white boxer! It was 1903, and Johnson had just won the “Colored” heavyweight world title, but not satisfied with that partial recognition, he visited the “real” champion in his establishment to ask for a chance. According to what has been passed down to us, Jeffries said to him: “I won’t face you in the ring because you’re not a known name and we wouldn’t draw a crowd. But I’ll go down to the basement with you and lock the door from the inside. Whoever comes out with the key will be the champion.” After realizing that his rival wasn’t joking, Johnson simply turned his back and left. Seven years later, the real showdown was supposed to take place in San Francisco, but California Governor James Gillett, only three weeks before the scheduled date, succumbed to pressure from religious groups calling for the abolition of boxing for moral reasons, and thus an arena was specially constructed in Nevada, in the city of Reno, where nearly 16,000 spectators poured in.
The Conspiracy Theory: A Last-Minute Broken Deal?
There are some conspiracy theories suggesting that Johnson was initially convinced to fix the fight, letting Jeffries win, but then changed his mind and decided to fight seriously. Among others, the historian, journalist, and writer Bert Sugar and the boxer Ed “Gunboat” Smith, who had sparred with Johnson a year earlier, supported this view. Sugar recounted that the Black boxer decided to break the agreement after the venue moved from California to Nevada, while Smith claimed that the decision was communicated to Jeffries the night before the fight, so much so that the challenger couldn’t sleep due to the tension. These theories have never been proven, and today it is impossible to determine their veracity with certainty. Adding to the mystery is the strange negotiation that took place over the distribution of the purses: initially, it was established that the winner would receive 75% of the earnings, but just five days before the fight, Johnson proposed an equal split regardless of the outcome. Jeffries finally agreed to a 60-40 split in favor of the winner.
Jack Johnson Remains on Top of the World!
The referee and sole judge of the bout was the event’s promoter, Tex Richard. He had proposed the delicate task to several prominent personalities, from the famous writer Arthur Conan Doyle to U.S. President William Howard Taft, but the refusals convinced him to act personally. The fight, scheduled for a maximum distance of 45 rounds and won inside the distance by Johnson in 15 rounds, has come down to us in extensive excerpts that, despite the modest video quality, allow us to get an idea of the events. It was a very different boxing from today’s, characterized by frequent and interminable clinches never interrupted by the referee, making it seem boring and hard to interpret to our eyes. Nonetheless, Johnson’s superior physical strength and greater reactivity in freeing his arms and inflicting damage stand out even to a modern spectator. The three knockdowns with which the “Galveston Giant” concluded the fight were achieved in rapid succession, also thanks to rules that allowed a boxer to stay close to the opponent during the count to hit him as soon as he got up from the ground.
From Furious Reactions to a New Beginning
As often happens, Jeffries’ immediate reaction to his stinging defeat was the most genuine and sincere: “I could never have beaten Johnson, not even at my peak. I couldn’t have hit him. I wouldn’t have reached him even in a thousand years.” These praiseworthy words of admiration, which Jeffries would later take back in his 1929 autobiography, where he made improbable accusations against an unknown member of his team for drugging him before the fight, were not enough to calm people down. The defeat of the idol of white America sparked scuffles, fights, and riots across the nation, with about ten people losing their lives in the clashes. The tension grew to the point where many mayors and governors banned the screening of the match film in their cities’ theaters, and two years later, the U.S. Congress even passed a law, remaining in force for nearly thirty years, to prevent the transportation of boxing films from one state to another. A crucial step for the inclusion of Black American athletes in elite sports was taken that day, but much more water would flow under the bridges before whites and Blacks had equal opportunities to make their way in the world of the sweet science. Great Black heavyweights like Sam Langford and Harry Wills never had their title shot, and only the long and glorious reign of Joe Louis finally led to a sort of reconciliation and a new beginning.