Article by Joe Louis. From 1936

BackSports Legends Speak Out
How I Shall Beat Max Schmeling
"The First Time He Drops His Left, There'll Be a Race of Right Hands — Then the End," Says the Brown Bomber
By JOE LOUIS as told to GENE KESSLER
Reading Time: 8 minutes 7 seconds
My managers never joined the challenging league; they let opponents come to us — a policy they'll follow right up to the world's champion. That may seem strange. It sure puzzled me at first. When I started bowling over leading heavyweights during the winter of 1934-35, every one began talking about a possible title match for me with Max Baer. It made me mighty ambitious. Then my bubble popped suddenly, when Managers John Roxborough and Julian Black said: "Louis isn't ready for a killer like Max Baer. Joe's only a kid."


I never questioned the judgment of my managers, so I just poked my tongue in my cheek and went about the business of chopping chins. Yet I couldn't understand such caution, especially after seeing a movie of Baer's crowning victory over Primo Carnera. Max impressed me as a barnside target for my straight punches, and I was sure I could beat any man I could hit.

After we went into training at Pompton Lakes, New Jersey, for my bout with Carnera, I got an idea. "How about us going over to New York and seeing that killer defend his title against Jimmy Braddock?" I asked.

Roxborough looked at Black and both winked. "Why, sure, Joe," said Black. "Sure — we intended to take you over to the big fight all along."

So we sat at the ringside and saw Braddock elude those boyish Baer swings all evening to grab the crown. I could see that world's title drift right out of my grasp, and I cast a Grand Canyon scowl toward my managers.

"How come you say I'm not ready to fight such wide-open sluggers?" I asked.

Black saw I was upset. "Joe," he said, "I don't believe it is our place to go around challenging other fighters, especially the world's champion. Folks might think you're ****y. You have the respect of white people now because they like the way you knock out opponents in a hurry, and they like the way you mind your own business. We must lean backward in order to retain that respect."

"Just keep on knocking over heavyweights, Joe," added Roxborough, stepping into the conversation, "and you'll get a match with Baer — and one with Braddock, too — soon enough."

They were dead right. After I cut down Carnera, the Baer match was tossed into our laps, and a near-million-dollar gate came with it.

So we're not going around challenging Braddock now. You may ask, then, how I plan to be champion. My plan is simple: I'll be champion by knocking out Max Schmeling in June and Braddock in September.

Right now I'm concerned with Schmeling. We haven't underestimated the rugged German, by any means. Trainer Jack Blackburn took me into the mountains at Lafayetteville, New York, where I spent three weeks at hard work in the open, chopping and sawing wood, fishing, running uphill to harden my legs, and eating good wholesome food. Then we moved camp to Lakewood, New Jersey, for twenty days of boxing with my spar mates.

It was necessary to condition my body before starting any boxing, because I took my first vacation during the winter. Yet three months of ring idleness found me weighing only 207 pounds, just six more than I expect to scale for the fight. I keep in shape by never letting my diet or habits slice out of bounds, by riding horseback for recreation and dancing for a diversion. My strongest liquid is milk and my chief dissipation is ice cream and fried chicken.

I think ice cream is good food for a hungry man because it is made of milk and cream and a little sugar, and it will put plenty of steam in your boiler. And, that is what I want. I have always liked good wholesome food, and that is what I have always eaten and that is where I get my strength.

I like good meat, and to me that means lamb chops, steaks, and chicken fried or roasted. If I can have those three to choose from, that's all the meat I want. But I like a well balanced meal, and so I eat a lot of vegetables, salads, and fruits. I like soup, and I get a lot of vegetables in my soup; but I also like a lot of good vegetables with my dinner. I eat prunes and cereal with my breakfast, but I take a whole lot of orange juice and g****fruit any time of the day. I don't want any alcohol. If I am not hungry I don't eat. I wait. No one can make me eat if I am not hungry.

I have never had any stomach trouble, and because I eat good wholesome food I don't ever expect to have any.

A lot of people have asked me how I like married life and if I think it'll affect my fighting. I think married life is the only thing for a man, if he's happily married. It makes him contented and gives him something to fight for. I've already had three bouts since our wedding and have done pretty well — knocking out Max Baer, Paolino Uzcudun, and Retzlaff.

My wife and I have an understanding about my career. We separate completely when I go into training for a fight, so when I left for the East she went back to her parents. We're not going to raise a family until after I retire from the ring.

When I started earning big purses I promised to hang up the gloves just as soon as I saved a million dollars. I haven't changed from that plan, except that I want a crack at the title before quitting. If I do get the crown, I want to defend it once. After that I'll have my million, and I'll quit the ring, raise a family, and live like any-body else.

Right now I'm paying off my first $200,000 worth of annuities, have an apartment building in Chicago, and another $500,000 in sight this summer.

I never saw Max Schmeling in action, but the movies of his knockout over Young Stribling in Cleveland in 1931 left a lingering impression of a great fighter. I was just a kid then, getting my baptism with gloves at the Detroit A. A., and hadn't been in any real bouts. But I was warming up to the game mighty fast, and saved my pennies to see the Schmeling-Stribling film when it arrived at my neighborhood show. Then I sat with my mouth open and marveled at the way Schmeling slipped under Stribling's piston jabs and countered with short jolts to the body, gradually raised his fire to the chin, and scored a knockout in the fifteenth round. At that time I got the idea Stribling might have done better by drawing away from the German's fists and stepping in with counters.

Now I know just how I'm going to fight Schmeling. I'll let him come winging into me, pull away from his gloves by doing my "backward shuffle," and then step in with counters. If he rushes too fast and furious, I'll grab his arms and spin him before opening up.

I know the "tip" that I'm weak against rushers has spread like a scandal in an old maids' home. That's partly because Adolph Wiater, a mediocre heavyweight, gave me the toughest s**** of my career by pushing me back off balance and churning windmill arms. At the time I fought Wiater, which was my first ten-round shindig, I hadn't learned to shuffle in reverse.

Blackburn taught me a system of boxing on balance, as I explained in Liberty last November. At first he showed me how to shuffle forward into an opponent and keep my feet always in position for leverage so I could punch without waste motion. My right foot always is slightly behind the left — not too far, but enough to keep me from falling forward off balance when I strike. Blackburn had me watch a shot putter heave the iron marble at a track meet.

"Push your right cross off the right foot something like that," Jack said. "At the same time hold that right toe against the floor for an anchor to keep from falling into a clinch as you punch. Imagine that toe's a stake holding down the corner of a circus tent."

So I learned to shuffle into an opponent, and quick knockouts resulted. Then Wiater came along, hurtling headfirst into me, and I was fuddled for a couple of rounds, but never in distress.

Blackburn immediately taught me the backward shuffle. I simply moved the same way in reverse gear. I discovered I was at my best when a foe came charging into me, because primarily I'm a counterpuncher. In my first clash with Lee Ramage I shuffled ahead for seven rounds before catching up with the retreating Ramage in the eighth. Then, in our return match, Lee decided to wage a charging fight and take a chance on outslugging me. This time I shuffled out of his range, made him miss, and stepped in with counters that iced Lee in the second round.

Maybe Schmeling will switch from his usual style and wait for me to lead; but I don't think so. The German has forced the fighting in all his bouts and would be foolish to change at this time.

Blackburn says Max drops his left hand when he shoots the right. The first time he drops his left, there'll be a race of right hands, and I think mine will ring the button. I know the Teuton has a cast-iron jaw.

I never expect to hit another man as often with hard punches as I hit Baer before melting his chin, but I expect Schmeling to swing at me plenty. And I expect to get tagged by a few. I am prepared to take as well as dish out the leather poison this trip.

Schmeling is the big hurdle in my path to the championship match. If I can whip him decisively, I expect to leap right into a title shot as the next stop, although we might take on a warm-up bout in midsummer.

I feel that I've got a mission to fulfill for my race — to win the title and then prove that a colored man can wear the crown and still act like a gentleman.

Publication Date: June 20, 1936

 

I wonder if Louis really wrote this. Does not sound like him at all.