Old timers' technique/style descriptions

This thread will be for quotes about old fighters of whom we have very little footage or none at all. Next-day reports are good, but sometimes I want to read not about some particular fight, but what the fighter's style and technique was like. If anybody has anything to add, feel free.

I'll start with Midget Wolgast who was recently mentioned in unique styles thread, and a little of Willie Davies. They met 7 times, Wolgast having the better of the series.

 

1928-02-21 Pittsburgh Post-Gazette (Pittsburgh, PA) (pages 14, 16)
By REGIS M. WELSH, Post-Gazette Sports Editor.
Davies, a better left hand hooker and puncher than Wolgast was a right hand puncher and an occasional left jabber, earned a decided margin in six of the 10 rounds and finished with a flurry that seemed to put the decision beyond pale of argument, even among two judges and a referee.
...
Wolgast, a will o' the wisp, with a left hand that made lightning look like a selling platter, made an auspicious start, darting and dancing about while flecking Willie plenty with this whistling and rasping rapier during the first round. His speed was so dazzling and his accuracy so true that ringsiders gasped as it looked as though Davies was in for a rough evening. But through the second, third and fourth the Charleroi mite became himself, walked in and tossed left hooks a plenty and left jabs by the score into Wolgast, who seemed to tire and began to miss under the onslaught which came from all corners and all angles.

Traveling at a dizzy speed these two kids kept the crowd in an uproar with their antics and performance, but even faster than he seemed to lose control in the three early rounds, Wolgast recovered and took the fifth and sixth by uncorking as hefty and true a right hand as has ever been hung on a kid his pounds. Time after time he nailed Davies, either coming in or going away, and in these two highly interesting sessions Midget had a good lead.

Then came the proverbial Davies' finish. Through the seventh and eighth he rained gloves on Wolgast from all angles. Not only that, but as a defensive fighter Davies showed his superb class by having even the smart and elusive Wolgast floundering around trying to lay hands on him. Willie ducked and dove, bounded from rope to rope like an acrobat, stopping only long enough to fleck Wolgast's face with a rasping left or plant a solid right to his head or body. Davies was in front by a mile when the eighth closed and no one knew this better than Wolgast.

The Philadelphian came out flat-footed like a middleweight in the ninth, putting plenty of power into several right smashes, three of which caught Willie head-on and spun him around. The Italian from Quakertown was on the hunt for a victory which had slipped away from him and throughout the ninth pasted Willie plenty when he finally located him. Meanwhile Davies became elusive as an eel and had the judges, although they probably know little about that sort of scoring system, taking points from Wolgast for missing he would have gone into the tenth round with his total for the night in red ink.

Even at that Wolgast started the tenth slowly, realizing that it would take several right hand wallops, maybe a knockdown, to put him in the running. Davies flitted and bounced about, stabbing and jabbing with a left and crossing a right until he took the round by a shade to add to his comfortable total.


1928-07-31 The Jersey Journal (Jersey City, NJ) (page 13)
Wolgast displayed a left jab that proved highly effective. Bouncing about the ring, darting in and out, Wolgast jabbed and jabbed until Tobias must have wondered where they all came from. Phil took it gamely enough during the early rounds of the contest but seemingly could do nothing in return. Wolgast, as he moved in and out, jumping about like a jack rabbit, flicked his left in Tobias' face and though it failed to do any damage scored often enough to give the Philadelphian the points that ultimately led to his victory.

 

1929-03-28 New Castle News (New Castle, PA) (page 20)
Is Midget Wolgast's left faster than Willie Davies?

Yes, say some; no, claim others.

Fans who have seen their gloved fists flying like rapiers will have a chance to see Monday when they clash at Jolly bowl.

While both lefts are fast their jab attack is in no way similar as recollections of past fights have shown.

Wolgast darts his hand three or four times for the face. None of the first three or four are intended for blows but he finally smashes it straight to the face.

Davies does not bother the fast and fancy misses but shoots his left in a sort of chopping way and once the glove lands he drops his left three or four times to the face before he stops.

To be frank their lefts remind the writer of a snake's tongue. The lefts dark like lightning. The intent of a jab is to force an antagonist off balance and sometimes it closes the eye.

The Midget has a wonderful amount of stamina and he works his feet incessantly. In fact all of his movements along this line are for the purpose of distracting an opponent.

The boy from Charleroi moves fast, seldom takes an unnecessary step and in his own mind believes that every extra move means one point toward loss of stamina.

But the coming battle, one of titular dimensions will not be fought entirely with fists, not by a jugful. It will be a battle of brainwork and woe be to the flyweight who makes an error.

They are like two panthers, ready for the spring. They have whipped most of the flyweights in the game and no better boxing bout for speed, class and science could be staged anywhere.

According to accounts they have fought four times. Wolgast is said to have taken three of the four decisions but Davies disputes this; he claims that he was robbed (ring vernacular) of one award.

Davies says that of the two fights he should have had two, instead of one decision. One of their battles was called a draw if reports from Davies camp are true but they claim Davies won.

Their past battles mean nothing. It is the bout Monday evening at the Jolly bowl which will count with local fans and every fan who goes there can be his own judge. He pays to see the bout and has a right to his own opinion.


1931-10-05 Oakland Tribune (Oakland, CA) (page 16)
By BOB SHAND
Local boxing fans who saw Speedy Dado belt out Obie Israel at the Oakland Auditorium thought they had seen the fastest fighting machine in the world--but they had never seen Midget Wolgast.

Yesterday several hundred enthusiasts watched the rivals go through their paces at the Duffy gymnasium and the consensus was that Dado would have to yield the speed palm to the New York Italian.

Wolgast bounces around the ring like a rubber ball. He punches with both hands from all angles and hits so fast that the average customer cannot tell if he is a right-hander or a southpaw. He dances around with both hands held close to his stomach and lashes out with right and left at the slightest sign of an opening.

He has a nice left hook to the body and a damaging right cross to the chin. He used both punches in succession yesterday and there was not a second's interval between them. He is that fast. In position or out of position he can still hit and there is a lot of force to his blows when he puts all of his 111 pounds behind his punches.

At times he holds the ropes with one glove while he weaves and bobs and slips punches thrown at him. He can lick most of his sparring partners with one hand--so Dado is going to be busy Wednesday night at the auditorium, when the champion starts work with both hands.

Last time out Dado failed to come up for the fifth round, claiming a dislocated shoulder. It was the fastest bout Los Angeles fans ever saw while it lasted and Dado was holding his own at the finish. There is nothing the matter with the Filipino's shoulder now, so his manager, J. Cortez, predicts a different result.

"Maybe Wolgast does appear a mile faster in the gymnasium than my boy," said Cortez yesterday, "but he is never set for a punch, while Dado slows up occasionally to toss one in. Wolgast cannot do any serious damage while he is bobbing around. My man has nothing to be afraid of."

Johnny Keyes, New York Chinatown's unofficial mayor, enters a dissenting opinion:

"We'll knock him over in de thoid or fort round."

 

Dave Holly

1904-10-01 Baltimore American (Baltimore, MD) (page 6)
They fought on entirely different principles. Holly was the better infighter. He showed the "turtleback" style, covering up when need be, so that he was impregnable to the assaults of the Boston man. Whenever Holly would open up and fight he would get the worst of it, because Langford was decidedly the cleverest at long range and open order. It was at infighting that Holly had the better of it. He developed a corkscrew punch in clinches that often landed on Langford's jaw and worried him.


1904-10-01 The Sun (Baltimore, MD) (page 9)
The style of the two men's boxing was very different. The pair weighed in at 6 P. M. at 142 pounds each. Langford has the credit of a decision over Joe Gans. In his fight last night he was very quick, shifty and exceedingly clever.

Holly, on the contrary, was an awkward customer and was very tricky. Holly's tactics are like those of Young Peter Jackson. He covers closely bores in and takes a chance to land a short punch. If unsuccessful at this he goes to a clinch, and at infighting he was Langford's superior. Several times while the pair were clinched Holly would twist his body in a corkscrew way, hitting for the head with his one forearm. By the time the forearm was stopped the corkscrew turn had been made and the other hand freed and ready to deliver a short jab to the face or head. Holly was full of clever tricks in clinches, but the spectators who filled the house fancied Langford's clean, scientific boxing and he was the more popular.

The bout, as had been anticipated, was one of the hardest ever fought before the Eureka Club. It was also the most uncertain in its outcome.

Holly began to rush from the start and never ceased. This boring in under cover caused continuous clinches and infighting, the results of which could not be clearly seen. Each man was good and strong until the end of the eighth round, when Holly got a bit slower. In the ninth round Langford drew blood from Holly's nose and mouth and nearly closed his left eye.


1906-01-11 Every Evening (Wilmington, DE) (page 6)
There were four good preliminaries and a hot six-round windup between Dave Holly and Fred Blackburn, both of Philadelphia. Much interest was centered in the bout between Holly and Blackburn, as both colored pugilists have good reputations for boxing. The bout was a disappointment to many who did not like Holly's manner of fighting and thought he showed too much caution. Those who were close enough to appreciate the contest properly, however, declare that Holly put up one of the greatest exhibitions of infighting that has ever been witnessed in the arena. He fought in a crouching attitude and kept his face well guarded all the time, but in rapid transformation tactics he would land repeatedly upon Blackburn's body and face, especially the nose.


1906-07-24 The Seattle Daily Times (Seattle, WA) (page 8)
Holly made the fight a burden to the spectators. He clinched and wrestled through the entire contest, trying to beat down Gans with the same kidney blows and short arm body punches that ruined Rufe Turner in his fight a month earlier. With Gans' glove pinioned under his left arm, Holly tried to use his right in the inside work, but Gans was too old at the blocking game and he took most of that punishment on his free arm. The lightweight champion kept ripping into Holly's midriff during the clinches and after the first few rounds pounded into Holly's kidneys whenever the two men came together. When the fight was over a great welt over Holly's right kidney and a raw spot that wiped out the black color showed the Philadelphian was the man who got the worst of the in-fighting.

 

1910-06-01 Boxing (London, England) (pages 319, 320)
McFarland's nose was bleeding, and had been for some time. His left eye was also cut and swollen, his mouth displayed a slight trickle, and his left kidney was also marked; while Welsh showed scarcely any marks save a swelling under the left eye, and I felt fully satisfied that "these outward and visible signs" would influence Mr. Scott.

Moreover, there can be no denying the fact that Welsh's guard and general defence throughout was simply superb. There is no other word which will adequately describe it, and though McFarland won the vast majority of rounds by a fair to moderate margin, and the actual fight itself by the length of a decent-sized street, something seemed to tell me that the marvellously clever manner in which Freddie blocked Packey's tireless attack would exercise its weight.

The general impression (which was evidenced by the odds of 6 to 4 on Welsh) at the commencement was that Freddie's reputed speed would flurry Packey and compel him to cover and protect himself for a considerable portion of the contest, so that when immediately after the opening spar McFarland commenced with a steady, surefooted advance, it occasioned no little surprise, which he relentlessly persisted in all through. Never once, save on the rare occasions when Welsh made a wildish swinging attack, did the Chicago boy retreat, and these retreats were only momentary, for with scarcely the faintest halt he was back again and pegging away at his opponent, driving him relentlessly before him and compelling him to confine himself almost entirely to guarding, blocking, and covering up.

Welsh might dance from side to side; might dodge and retreat; circle slowly round the ropes, and employ every wile or device of which he was capable, in the vain attempt to dodge past Packey, either right or left. Each and every manoeuvre was in vain.

There were, of course, occasions when Welsh did get by, but these might almost have been counted on one's fingers.

One may describe the contest in its entirety as a circumnavigation of the ring by Welsh, with Packey as the compelling force. Time and again was Freddie driven back on to the ropes, his only resource then being to close, and, leaning against his steady and persistent attacker, to work his way round somehow into the wider reaches of the ring again, only to be forced once more to continue his persistent and steady retreat.

Points in boxing contests are usually awarded for attack and also for the majority of clean hits delivered. Well, McFarland did 99 per cent. of the attacking, and at the very least scored a clear majority of the points in at least 14 of the rounds, and one could not credit Freddie with more than 3 of the remaining 6. Yet the verdict was a draw!

We had previously anticipated that Packey's chief method of attack would be the uppercut; but we scarcely expected to see him employ it so frequently or to get it home so frequently to the body. We must confess that we should not have been in the least surprised had he scored a decisive victory with the blow by connecting it forcibly with the English champion's chin, and we must congratulate Welsh on the effective system of defence to which he adhered and by which he safeguarded himself against the possibility of this calamity. There can be no shadow of a doubt that Freddie was early apprised of the risk he was running and was resolved to avoid it if he could possibly contrive to do so.

His crouching attitude, the manner in which he held his hands, the stoop and bend of his body, all showed his anxiety about those threatening upward blows.

McFarland boxed in an upstanding position throughout, and the speed with which he dropped his hands for an upward hook was really remarkable. Freddie watched those hands like a cat watching a mouse. They were never out of his mind for a moment, even when his head was turned away and his gloves were covering his face.

But they got home despite this. They ripped into his stomach and chest, and came further upwards into his mouth, chin, face and throat with really startling persistence. Block and guard as Freddie would, and surely there is no such perfect defence as his in all the wide world, those upper-cuts of Packey's were always finding their way home. Time after time in every round they discovered their target, but Packey had to employ endless wiles for the purpose.

It was alleged that, despite his punching powers, skill, and strength, despite his experience and reputation, he would nevertheless be exposed as a comparatively slow boxer when opposed to the lightning rapidity of "the Welsh wizard."

But on Monday night McFarland was the fast man. He was the one and only speed merchant. Welsh certainly danced about at a much faster rate; he dodged and ducked, shifted his guard, blocked, and parried with the utmost rapidity. But McFarland was faster, surer, and, above all, steadier.

That was really the outstanding feature of Packey's boxing. He was so amazingly speedy, and yet he never once appeared to be in the slightest hurry. Even when he broke ground before Welsh's desperate assaults, and appeared to go back slowly, it was always a jump, and a jump of exactly the right distance--which right distance was just one inch or so beyond Freddie's reach.

And then he was always back again, well within attacking distance, before one could wink an eye. He was back, and as he came down came his left with a chop on Freddie's neck, on the back of his head, and up whizzed his right with an upper-cut for Freddie's stomach or ribs; while Freddie would crouch, cover his face with his gloves, and desperately endeavour to fortify his body with his elbows and forearms.

McFarland's left was always going as well. He pegged away with it persistently in a manner which was quite at variance with the commonly accepted notion of the American style.

On the other hand, it differed very considerably from what is usually known as the English method. The English left (so-called) is generally a straight jab or lead, with plenty of powder behind it, but McFarland's left, as he showed it to us at the N.S.C., is a far more versatile weapon.

Packey can jab, lead, and hook with his left as well as the best exponent of the straight-left theory in existence. He proved this by simply superabundant evidence. But he is a most economical young gentleman in its use, as he is with every other weapon in the boxer's armoury.

He jabbed and stabbed away with that left, and found Freddie's face time and again, sending his head back on quite a multitude of occasions, but this was by no means the most salient feature of its use.

He proved himself to be the one and only "Gentle Tapper," as well as the proud possessor of a more than formidable punch. He was always tapping away at Freddie's head and warding gloves with that left of his.

I have called it "tapping," but I am not so sure that "flicking" would not be a better word. For, after all, he really was flicking too, with an open glove, the fingers of which were fully extended.

Those open-extended fingers were always wandering round Freddie's head and guard, in the hope of tempting him to make an offensive move.

Yet all the time his guard was as perfect as it could possibly be against any or everything which Welsh might attempt. And almost from the start Freddie gave up attempting much with any degree of confidence.

Freddie wasn't happy. He was far from looking so, whatever he may have felt; and, honestly, I don't think that he felt anything resembling the faintest approach to comfort until after the verdict had been given.

If he moved that glove barrier, even the merest shade, that left glove would flick to the unguarded spot. Whenever he ducked and so lowered the barrier automatically, down would chop Packey's fist, with the glove closed this time, on his exposed neck, cheek, or nape. The flicks might have been butterfly caresses, but the chops hurt. Of this last there could be no possibility of mistake.

We have described Freddie's defence as superb. It was all that and more. But McFarland's can only be described as having been impregnable. True that Freddie got through it more than once, as was evidenced by the ruddy trickles already alluded to, but then this was because Welsh was lucky enough to land on a telling spot on each of the rare occasions on which he did get through. Yet even these Welsh triumphs cannot be said to have stained the impregnable shield which Packey carried so skilfully throughout.

It was a rare thing for him to cover up. True that there were occasions when he drove in his attack so vigorously that its momentary failure forced him to fall back on the defensive. Usually his guard was a cross arm, with the palm outwards, in other words, the perfect academic guard. Critics have sneered at the old methods of defence, but Packey amply demonstrated that it is the only reliable and perfect one.

Welsh, who relies on the new style, which he has so perfected that he has almost transformed it, was the one opponent who would have been selected had it been desired to submit the classic and the modern styles to the test and comparison.

For while Freddie's guard was as superbly strong as we described it to have been, it was far less effective as a basis for attack than McFarland's. Packey's defence transformed itself into offence in an effortless and practically imperceptible fashion, while Freddie's had to be transformed.

The American's arms just swayed from the bent to the straight. There was no drawing back from the one position to shoot out into the other. It was the perfect rhythm of motion, whereas Welsh's gloves had to shoot up and over after a slight withdrawal.

 

A small point, you may say, but nevertheless a most important one. For whereas McFarland's style was the perfect economy of effort and of time, Welsh's however rapid and speedy it might be--and honestly many of Freddie's moves were as fast as lightning--yet were always made after an expenditure of both time and energy.

Freddie swung quite a lot--that is, when one remembers how little real attacking Freddie did during the contest. And what is more, he swung badly. But that, of course, is one of the drawbacks of the swinging method.

Against Johnny Summers it almost appeared as though the swing as exemplified by Welsh would always beat the straight delivery as demonstrated by Summers. For Johnny was always regarded as a really great exponent of the straight-arm blow. Yet against Packey the swing was a woeful failure. It simply didn't land. Freddie tried hard to get it home in the first two rounds, particularly in the first, when he slung away some half-dozen times, only to miss, and to miss badly, by at least six inches, and often more. He tried again in the 2nd with a similar result, and appeared to get discouraged. During the 3rd, 4th, and 5th he relied almost exclusively upon hook-blows for his openly offensive movements, only swinging about six or seven times in the three rounds. He never landed one of these swings, and scarcely any of the hooks, save on McFarland's gloves or arms. Of course, he jabbed at times for the body, and banged away at the kidneys, but he made surprisingly little use of this, his supposed favourite blow (of which more anon), and though he tried several upper-cuts, he can scarcely have congratulated himself on their success.

In rd. 6, however, Freddie made a great effort, of a wild and whirling description. McFarland had come in on a determined assault, which was well parried, and with Freddie breaking ground cleverly and very smartly, Packey was for just a couple of seconds distinctly open to attack. He had baulked a trifle in his attack, and seemed as though he found a difficulty in recovering his footing. Welsh had a distinct chance, and sprang like a panther to seize it. He had gone back with a leap before McFarland's charge, and had got clear. The only fault in his position was that he was a trifle too far away. But a bound might remedy this. So Freddie bounded, and as he bounded he whipped up a most savage right upper-cut with which he may have fondly hoped to decapitate Master Packey. But Packey, as always, was cool and quick. To all appearances he just stayed where he was, but as a matter of fact he must have moved back a good six inches. He seemed to have held his ground, and Welsh certainly appeared to have well covered the space between them. But that right upper-cut missed by fully half a foot. Freddie did not wait to see whether it had missed, but sent his left upwards on the heels of his right.

Did McFarland move? He did not appear to do more than sway, but that swirling left was at least an inch farther away from McFarland than the right had been. Welsh's arms were both right up in the air, and, save from the fact that he was again bounding forward, he might have been offering up a petition to the high gods! Then with a gesture which might have been of despair or indignation, but which was probably a last despairing attempt to score something out of the opening, he banged both hands downward in a savage chop at Packey's face. Again Packey merely appeared to sway, although on no single occasion did he deflect more than an inch or so from the upright, yet once more did those Welsh gloves merely cut the air a good half-foot from his opponent.

Freddie had lost the one golden opportunity Packey gave him during the whole battle, and he knew that he had lost it, for as his arms came down they bent sharply inwards, the elbows closed on his sides, and the gloves closed round his face. The whole movement was rapidly conceived and most marvellously smartly executed. But quick as Freddie was he wasn't quite quick enough, for Packey, who had been admiring Welsh's amazing energy, returned to the attack simultaneously with the drop of Freddie's arms. He was on top of his man at once, hooked both hands to the head, and slammed a right upper-cut to his stomach before the English champion could half complete his line of defence.

But Welsh has not earned his title of Wizard for nothing. He had been caught, and badly caught, but he had no desire to be disastrously trapped. Back and away he went with a sudden spring, but although he avoided paying too severe a penalty for his errors, he was unable to do more than tamely cower before the hail of hooks and upper-cuts which fell upon him as Packey came hot foot on his trail.

This was not the only occasion on which Freddie appeared to partially lose his nerve; or perhaps it would be fairer to say on which he resorted to desperate tactics, in the wild hope of evening up a little that long score which was so steadily mounting against him.

 

1910-06-01 The Sporting Life (London, England) (page 1)
Reports from America seemed to indicate that "Packy," one of the mildest-mannered of lads outside the ring, was an exponent of "rough house" tactics inside the "squared circle," and we have had ocular demonstration vouchsafed to us before now that when it comes to the all-in-catch-as-catch-can game, Freddie Welsh is ready and willing to hold his own with any man alive. Contrary to his usual custom, however, Welsh almost entirely cut out the clinching game, and boxed as scrupulously fairly as the heart of man could desire. Just once or twice the "old man" showed out for a second or two, but taking his performance as a whole, Fred's tactics left nothing to be desired.

But if Welsh was a surprise, what of McFarland? Here was a man who we were told, boxed in the typical American style, but whose methods would on the contrary have gladdened the heart of the most ardent devotee of the school of Mace. Adopting Driscoll's classic pose, McFarland relied largely upon a straight left hand to earn him points. Far from devoting himself to in-fighting, as we were led to expect he would do, he indulged rather in long range shots, and in that department of the game showed himself the Welshman's superior in the proportion of about 3 to 1. At in-fighting, too, he was at least Welsh's equal, his right uppercuts to the body, delivered at close quarters, doing fearful damage during the earlier rounds, though in the latter half of the contest Welsh contrived to block the majority of them with his elbow.

Reams of paper were consumed in extolling Welsh's speed after his victory over Johnny Summers. Well, as trainers say about racehorses, "they can all go fast past trees," and when he met McFarland the boot was altogether on the other foot. Compared with the American, Welsh was as slow as a hearse in four rounds out of five. It was extraordinary to see how easily McFarland was able to outfoot the English champion. Yet he never seemed to be travelling really fast. There is nothing flashy about his style. Like Driscoll's, it is effortless, but wonderfully effective.


1910-06-02 Boxing World and Athletic Chronicle (London, England) (page 429)
In the first half-minute it was very evident that Packy was out to force the pace, and he never once let up from that intention.

Welsh attacked on a couple of occasions, but only for very brief intervals, and McFarland was the man who was on the aggressive, nearly all through the contest. He did the major part of the scoring, and for fifteen rounds was too quick and too clever for our light-weight champion.

We expected to see Welsh prove too speedy for the American, but such was not the case. Fred met a man who could meet him at his own style, and who could beat him at it. Packy was ever on the move, he never let up for a single instant. There was always that look of dour determination on his countenance that told plainer than words, he meant to do or die. He led, led, and kept leading, and though his hard battle, combined, perhaps, with the poundage at which he had to weigh-in, told their inevitable tale, and he showed signs of tiring in the closing rounds, yet he kept after Fred, and was always moving in ready and eager to drive home left and right, or willing to stand up and slog if Fred cared for that sort of game.

Welsh, on the other hand, showed no eagerness to come to Packy. He kept away as much as he possibly could, and was on the retreat throughout the greater part of the contest. His well-known cleverness enabled him to evade some very dangerous punches unshipped by the "Stockyards boy," but it could not keep him out of harm's way altogether, and he was the recipient of many a left on the head, and of innumerable right-handed uppercuts.

It was this latter blow, the right-hand uppercut, either on the body or head, that caused Fred most trouble, and that must have made his teeth rattle now and again. Packy's left was good, and used with precision and judgment at times, but the right was the most reliable, and it was the right that Welsh seemed unable to keep out of the way of. It was landed with annoying regularity by the American, and proved his greatest asset. It was the punch he practised so assiduously during his preparation at Jack Straw's Castle, and he made free use of it.

Whenever Fred came in close, that right uppercut was sent out on its errand of mischief, and it played a well-nigh continuous rat-tat on the Welshman's ribs and head. It is one of the most effective blows in the whole repertoire of the boxer's art, and requires much study, good timing, and a perfect judgment of distance to be used with effect. McFarland is an artist at it, and got it in on Welsh repeatedly, and with plenty of steam.

Packy boxes somewhat after the style of Jim Driscoll, but his left is not as precise or as straight as that of out feather-weight champion. There are many points of similarity about their styles, and whatever difference is to be found in the methods of boxing as practised by Jim and Packy is due to their teachings in different schools of boxing.

At times the American shoots his left out straight, but, unlike the followers of the English school, he does not rely on the left, the right being his favourite weapon.

The contest on Monday night was a comparatively clean one. Both are boxers of the American school, and it was naturally expected that much hanging on and rough work in the clinches would be indulged in. Such did not prove to be the case, however, and the referee did not have much trouble with them. They broke away at the word of command, and, though the clinches may have been too frequent in the closing rounds of the contest, this was only to be expected from two men who had come through a gruelling display. The boxers had need to be cautious, as it was quite evident from the referee's decision in the Curran-Thomas contest that he was not in a playful humour and would stand no trifling.

 

1910-06-04 The Illustrated Police News (London, England) (page 10)
As far as appearances went, there was not a pin to choose between them, but the affair had only gone about half a round when it was seen that Welsh was up against a very stiff proposition. There was none of that wonderful aggression that had characterised his meeting with Johnny Summers, and, in place of hunting McFarland round the ring, it was the American who did most of the hunting.

To such good purpose did Packy hunt, too, that points began to accrue in his favour. He cleverly drew Welsh on and then with a lightning upper-cut he nailed the English champion on the mark with a right-upper-cut. It was the very blow to show Welsh's weakness, in going in head first, up, and Packy played it most successfully throughout the whole twenty rounds.

Welsh was generally regarded as the fastest thing on two legs until Monday night but in McFarland he found a man who could travel with him all the time, in addition to hitting with greater power. And when it came to a mix-up Packy was also on the premises, and it was generally noticed that it was the Welshman who was the first to break ground.

For half a dozen rounds the Welshman did not know "what to buy" for McFarland, who kept scoring with the right on the chin or body as the other tried to get to close quarters, and the betting began to veer round until in some quarters odds were laid on the American.

It was certainly an extraordinary reversal of form. Welsh's great asset was supposed to be his ability to hit from all positions, while his judgment of distance was supposed to be uncanny. And yet there he was at times hitting inches short and swinging viciously at the air, while McFarland kept plugging away with that right of his on the body and the side of the head.

It must not be supposed, however, that the American is a one-blow boxer. That he made so much use of his right was solely due to the fact that the opening for it was always present. Welsh's one idea was to get to close quarters, and in trying to effect this he bored in with his head down, and ran into that nasty jarring punch, which, if it did not always reach the chin, it certainly put a strong brake upon the Welshman's impetuosity.

At times Freddy essayed a long left lead at the head, and in the later stages of the battle it was his most effective weapon. McFarland, however, was by no means idle with the left, and although at times he flicked rather than hit, he still more than held his own, and up to the fifteenth meeting he had a good margin in his favour.

If Welsh showed to advantage at all it was in defence. His covering up was certainly good, and with elbow and glove he stopped many a hard drive, but of attack he was woefully deficient, and it was generally conceded around the ring that McFarland had only got to stand up right for the remainder of the journey to win.


1910-06-04 The Mirror of Life and Sport (London, England) (page 2)
McFarland boxed with scrupulous fairness from beginning to end, and was the aggressor for about seven-eighths of the contest. He kept Welsh on the defensive nearly all the time, and time after time uppercut him with both left and right hands. Welsh did not seem so speedy as usual, nor did his boxing appear so clever, but this was not so in reality, as it was a man of different calibre to the opponents to which we had seen him opposed. When Welsh met Josephs, Fletcher, Summers and Daniels, he was meeting men his inferior in speed, and therefore he looked fast by comparison; but when he met a man as fast or faster than himself, he appeared to have lost his speed, or some of it, though, as I have already said, this was not really the case. I have never been a great admirer of Welsh's style of boxing, as it savours too much of the American school for my liking. Of course, when opposed to men of inferior speed or skill it looks and no doubt is wonderfully effective, but when opposed to one equal in speed and not inferior in skill, his defects become glaringly apparent. Welsh's defence is his strong point. In fact, it is the best--by far the best--feature of his boxing. He judges his distances badly, seldom hits straight, and misses many blows by inches. I was surprised to see McFarland boxing more in the English style than Welsh, and he scored with a straight left and a right uppercut, Welsh continually leaving himself open to that blow, and never, like a good general, using it as a draw and punishing McFarland's attempt. Not once did Welsh draw this blow, though Mac sent it in every time he saw, or thought he saw, an opening. McFarland hit much the straighter of the two, and I particularly noticed that whenever either of them used a straight left they invariably got home. Welsh missed some heavy right hand swings by a foot or more. When about to deliver a round blow it is impossible to do so without first drawing the hand back. This gives notice of your intention to hit, and prepares your opponent for what is coming. As most of Welsh's blows were of the circular variety, McFarland always heeded the notice of Welsh's intention, with the result that most of his blows went very wide of their mark--so wide, indeed, that Welsh looked almost foolish, and the faults and weaknesses of his style--the American style--were clearly shown. McFarland kept on piling up points, and I fully expected to see Welsh suddenly flash into brilliant and bewildering attack, but it never came, and he looked a loser round after round, and never seemed to me to equal his opponent in either speed or skill. McFarland was far more precise in his hitting than Welsh was, and he varied his attack very nicely; he judges his distances well, and his footwork was really splendid. His ducking and slipping reminded me of Pedlar Palmer in his best days, and, taken altogether, he was much the superior boxer, in style, execution, speed, footwork, judgment and precision of hitting. There was not a stage of the contest when McFarland could not have been declared the winner. He won from beginning to end, and I tender him my sincere sympathy at being deprived of the victory he had so fairly earned.

 

1894-04-12 The Chicago Record (Chicago, IL) (page 12)
The object of the following article is two-fold: first, to talk a little about Jackson's ring tactics, and secondly to prove, if appearances go for anything, that he has not "gone back" and can put up as good a fistic dish as ever. The idea is not to figure on the probable winner in case he and Corbett come to terms of battle; there is plenty of time for that yet. That, as the serial-story fellow says, will be continued in our next.

Of the proposed match neither the Parson nor Jackson will express any opinion as to the winner, except to say that they think they have an even show and want to fight. Any one, however, with an ear to the small voices between their lines cannot but see signs of unbounded confidence in the Australian champion.

Peter himself appears to be the most modest of all the champions, which accounts for the fact, perhaps, that while others of his profession are skewered and roasted right and left he sails free from such bothersome stuff. He is very unassuming, indeed, for the fighter that he is; he seems impregnated with the meek and lowly Uncle Tom character, that haunts him off the stage. Jackson is not introduced from the footlights in his nightly set-to with Choynski as the champion of Australia, and the heavyweight belt of that country, which he brought over from the antipodes on his first trip to San Francisco, is still in that town. He refuses to talk much of his style of fighting and what follows in that line is drawn from the writer's having seen him at it in earnest in the ring on several occasions. The accompanying pictures, after some persuasion, and with the aid of Joseph B. Choynski, the famous California pugilist, were obtained the other evening at the Alhambra theater just before the sparring act, where Peter is playing Uncle Tom to big houses. The cut showing Jackson compared with Corbett proves that he has little adiposity to work off; that his frame is as athletic and molded as well as ever; that he is, in fact, all right to work himself into good fighting fettle at short notice.

"Put twenty men to learn the game under the same master and no two of them will box alike at the end of a year," says Jim Corbett. If they are built differently and amount to anything at the business they certainly will not. Though Peter and James had come polished from the same shop, they would still be Peter and James, the one with his flashing ducks and stinging half-swings, the other with his straight-in, straight-arm work, in which his great reach is put constantly to the front.

A man must fight according to the build of him, and Jackson, like all great pugilists, works along lines of his own. He has an acreage of body to take care of against an opponent, which was generally supposed to be one of the greatest handicaps by which a fighter could be burdered; the long-bodied fellows used to get hammered in that region and the short-bodied, compact sparrers were the ones to do the business. When Jackson came on the scene, however, he brought along a dodge that took his stomach out of reach when that member was threatened that was the despair of body-fighters of all degrees. The trick is not easily explained or pictured.

In sparring about an opponent Peter keeps the left leg bent pretty well at the knee, but at the moment of passing the weight of the body on it in readiness for delivery he stiffens it straight as a poker. During the stiffening process, which is the fraction of time that the body-smasher is liable to take a try for an inning, as that member is then closer to him, if he makes the attempt, the movement is extended into a back jump or slide, followed with a little forward hop to get the feet under the body. If, during the moment the weight is passing on the stiffening leg, the adversary does not try for the body, either as a lead or to stop a head blow, the weight is instantly dropped back on the right foot and the left leg is again flexed for reiteration of the tactics. The colored champion has made such a specialty of this maneuver--always carrying the body so well poised for slipping back--that it gives his sparring an ambling or shuffling appearance, which was mistaken for a long time by American boxers as simple awkwardness. It is a sort of jack-knife dodge. The cut shows an attempt at picturing it, Jackson having jerked his body out of reach of a blow sent for the stomach and thrown his left in for the face at the same time. It is a bad stop for the body-fighter and the nimble back dodge makes Peter the most slippery man in the ring to-day to land on about the body.

Jackson has the longest reach of any man in the ring and that accounts for some of his peculiarities in the fighting line. His arm, as shown pushed out against Choynski, himself over 5 feet 11 inches in height and with a good reach, shows his wondrous arm length. This advantage makes it safer for Peter to dodge on the inside of a blow often when others with a shorter reach must be contented with an outside dodge. The heart blow, which Jim Corbett offered a few remarks on a short time ago, is taken by Jackson by dodging to the inside and planting his right hand in the region of the heart or lower ribs.

The blow is got in a mix-up or flashed in quickly behind a long left lead that has landed all right.

The recent criticisms that the champion of America has given the press in the east, comparing Charley Mitchell with Jackson as an opponent, are hardly fair. In the article it is claimed that the Englishman is shiftier than the Australian; that Mitchell is in two places at once; that he must be outgeneraled, while Jackson has simply to be outboxed. The truth of the matter seems to be that Champion Jim Corbett has been ridiculed considerably for adding such a specimen of fighter as Mitchell to his scalp-belt and he naturally likes to have it appear that Charley was not the dub he found him to be. During the preparations for the fight with Mitchell, it is said that Corbett wished it to appear that his opponent was the champion of England; one always likes his fish to weigh as much as possible.

Jackson has proved in a good many fights with a good many men that he is of the highest rank of pugilists. It has been claimed that he is not a dangerous fighter, like Sullivan used to be; he is not a swinger or a one-punch performer, but he has whipped good men with great dispatch when they came to him fast enough.

The best judges of the manly art are alive to the fact that the championship of England, Australia and America lies between Corbett and Jackson, with no one else just now in touching distance. The proud winner of that go must be considered the champion of champions.
JOSEPH DONOVAN.

 

1889-03-03 The Daily Examiner (San Francisco, CA) (page 13)
Some weeks ago when a match was arranged between Joe Choynski and Frank Glover and the former chose Joe Dieves' as his training quarters, Peter Jackson and Choynski for the first time entered on a little more than a bowing acquaintance.

Joe Choynski was only an amateur boxer about to enter the professional ranks for the purpose of meeting one of the gamiest professional fighters who ever left Chicago to come here, and Jackson admired Joe's temerity.

Peter's daily exercise brought him in frequent contact with Joe, whose magnificent physique, youth and pleasant disposition attracted him. He saw that in this beginner there was material out of which to make a first-rate pugilist, and if there is one thing above all others that is pleasing to Jackson it is to impart to others the knowledge he has acquired.

However, it was not until the last few days before the Choynski-Glover battle took place that Jackson boxed at all with Joe. It was mutual exercise, and Peter having such a tractable pupil in hand did not hesitate to impart to him a few points that stood him well in hand when he defeated Glover in fourteen punishing rounds last Tuesday night at the California Athletic Club.

A couple of days before the fight took place an Examiner reporter and an artist attached to the paper took a trip to Joe Dieves', on the San Leandro road, for the purpose of securing a photograph of Choynski, which appeared with the account of his victory, on Wesnesday morning last.

Peter was in the gymnasium at the time warming up with a little bag-punching exercise.

Shortly afterward Choynski left his dressing-room and in orthodox ring costume joined his recently acquired exercising partner.

In a little while Joe had acquiesced to Peter's invitation to "have a little go," and the two perfect men, typical representatives of distinct races, were donning big ten-ounce pillows with which to spar.

Jackson, standing over six feet in height and weighing in the neighborhood of 215 pounds, did not look so very much larger than his more youthful friend. The latter weighed very nearly 174 pounds and stood within an inch as high as Jackson.

It might be well right here to give a word of explanation which may account for the fact that there did not appear to be so much difference between the two men in point of size and weight as there really was. It is always the case when a black and white meet. Black objects invariably look smaller, while the eye seems to magnify to some degree the lighter objects it looks at.

It is true that in this case Peter wore a singlet, but the dark arms, neck and head were bare, and had the usual effect.

There was no intention on the part of the boxers to do anything more than gentle work, but every little while they would break out of the slow jog into a pretty rapid canter, making a really brilliant set-to for a very limited audience to enjoy.

Jackson's blows, parries and foot action were simply grand, some of them impressing the reporter to that extent that he recalled them to Jackson later on, when the gloves had been cast aside.

The two good-natured pugilists listened pleasantly to the scribe, and when they seized his meaning kindly assumed the poses alluded to. It was in this manner that the Examiner photographer was enabled to catch the attitudes accompanying this article.

When on guard Jackson holds his hands in an easy and apparently careless position. He poises gracefully on his feet and is always ready to spring well backward or to bound in towards his man, accordingly as he scents danger or sees an opening.

His arms work loosely from the shoulder joints and at every little feint or motion on the part of his opponent they are raised and advanced slightly so as to cover head and neck, while an attack at his body is generally met by a straight left-hander in the face.

His manner of working on his feet is as near perfect as can be and it is a rare thing to see him slip or stumble while sparring within the rope arena.

The left-hand counter is not courted to any extent by the dusky Australian nor, in fact, by any other pugilist. It is generally the result of both men making up their minds to lead with their lefts at the same instant, and it does not require much knowledge of fisticuffs to understand that the man with the shorter reach has very much the worse half of this blow-for-blow bargain.

As, however, the Australian, like all good boxers, inclines his head toward the right shoulder, the chances are that in a left-hand collision he will meet an inexperienced boxer squarely in the face and only receive a glancing chin or shoulder blow in return.

When the fistic maneuver entitled crossing with the right is carried out in a thorough manner the one crossed, especially if he receives the accompanying smash on the point of the chin or above the ear, feels within his innermost soul that boxing is not all beer or skittles. He has timed his man nicely apparently and sends on a straight left-hander. He hears no dull thud, reaches nothing but empty air, but all in a second he feels a jar somewhere on the left side of his head and sees a mocking face looking at him over his own straightened left arm. The vision is a momentary one and before he can recover his equilibrium and bring his own right around, the deliverer of the blow has slipped back again into position and is on guard and smiling.

To cross properly requires extreme nicety in timing and wonderful coolness and confidence in one's own ability. A left-handed facer is seemingly invited, the other man attempts one, then the crosser ducks adroitly with his head to the right, takes a step forward and as he raises his head sends his right across his opponent's left near the shoulder and scores a punishing blow.

Jackson is an adroit side-stepper. The motion is very similar with the feet to that employed in going in to cross a man with the right. The left foot, however, is not carried so far forward and the right foot step is taken both forward and to the right.

This brings the one stepping in on an angle with his adversary and the step is made generally to avoid a left hander and gain an advantageous position where a hot drive can be sent in at the other man's body or head, just as fancy or the seemingly better opening dictates.

Among the many positions the most catching in the reporter's fancy was what Peter called "stopping a body-blow."

This is probably the position, too, that was noticed most in the battle in which Jackson won the heavy-weight championship by putting Joe McAuliffe to sleep at the California Athletic Club.

Prior to that great fight the adherents of McAuliffe pointed out Jackson's alleged defects, the principal of which they claimed was his great length between the armpit and the hip.

"Wait till Joe hits him there once, and he'll break him in two," was freely given out.

It was on hearing this said that Sam Fitzpatrick, Jackson's attendant, broke from his customary silence to tell the speaker:

"Hit strikes me bleedin' funny that if hits so bloomin' big none of these ducks can find hit."

Well, to get back to "stopping a body blow." Jackson called the attention of his hearers to the fact that nearly all the stopping work in fighting was done by contraries.

"The most effective work is done in that way," he said. "If a man goes for your wind get your body as far from his reach as necessary and land him with your right or left, as the case may be, in the jaw.

"A body blow must be stopped by giving a head blow, a left hand being used for that purpose when the opponent leads a left.

"If the blow is aimed at the head, a great counter may be made by striking at the striker's body."

During the McAuliffe-Jackson fight, the former made repeated lunges at his opponent during the first few rounds of the battle, hoping to reach Jackson's weak point. It was then that Jackson, with a peculiar skip, got his body out of the way and landed on Joe's neck with the full weight of his body, delivered in a straight blow.

 

That skip is a peculiar one. As Jackson illustrated it the other day he jumps his left foot into the place occupied by the right while the latter acts as a balance for his whole body. That movement did not disturb the upper portion of his body excepting to allow him to get in his left fist while the lower portion of his frame had retreated at least a foot.

The photograph taken of the posture is perfect. Joe had led out for a body blow which would have reached with ease but for Jackson's retreat, and in retreating with the lower part of his body he landed Joe on the left side of the jaw.

The shadow of the fighters shows better even than the figures do the space between Choynski's left and Jackson's body.

It is a repetition of such counters and the natural tendency that they have of putting the receiver to sleep that accounts for so many pugilists falling by the wayside while trying to find Jackson's "weak point."

During the progress of a hot rally Choynski piled in right and left handers as body blows, lowering his head as he did so. Jackson gently skipped backward and avoided the heavier concussion, at the same time admonishing his pupil of the danger he was in.

"Don't take those chances, Joe," he advised. "Look at your man when you're hitting."

"Why did you advise that?" the reporter asked when the men had taken off their gloves.

In a moment Joe and Peter were in position again, the latter saying:

"I'll show you."

The two men sparred quietly a moment, when Joe, who was instructed to do so, began his old tactics. Instead of skipping away as he had done before, Jackson closed in, bringing up his right clinched fist, timing his blow with neat precision, meeting Joe's head as it lowered.

Had this upper cut been in earnest, and the blow delivered with full force, the crash would have been terrible for Joe, while the body blows he attempted to get in had no effect.

These upper-cuts are frequently delivered when at long range one of the opponents leads and the other, instead of stepping backward, seeks to avoid the blow by ducking his head.

Naturally, the ducking habit is dangerous, because one might avoid the upper-cut a dozen times and finally be reached once, which generally is enough to turn the tide of battle or end it right there.

Those members of the California Athletic Club who witnessed the battle between Peter Jackson and George Godfrey will always remember the terrific punishment which Godfrey had to take an eventually drop under.

Jackson made no effort to defeat his opponent with head blows. He hit him above the chest only sufficiently to cause Godfrey to give him an opening below.

Godfrey received fifty straight blows from Jackson's right or left just in the region of the heart. These repeated assaults almost stopped the action of Godfrey's heart.

In his exercising with Choynski, Jackson several times delivered his terrible body blows, but of course without putting fighting strength to them.

Watching his opportunity, when Joe led with his left, Jackson moved his head a little to the right, allowing Joe's left hand to slip by over the shoulder. In that position Jackson's face and neck were virtually guarded from punishment from Joe's right. Being safe from harm himself, Peter had nothing to do but put the entire weight of his body in one lunge forward, landing his left fist on his opponent's bare skin.

There are few more punishing blows than these, and they are surprises, too, to the receiver. The surprise is double in so much that the receiver is astonished at his own lead missing the mark and he is surprised again at the result.

In the same class as the left-hander, just explained, may be classified the "right-hand heart-warmer."

Instead of leaning the head to the right, as he had done in the previous illustration, Jackson tossed his head to the left just as Joe's lead came out. Joe's left fist slipped over Jackson's shoulder, and, while Peter raised his left hand toward Joe's face, he threw the whole weight of his 200 and odd pounds in a "right-hand heart-warmer."

Of course such blows, when repeated, are bound to batter in the frame of the stoutest opponent. It is true enough, too, that it is not everybody who is clever enough to do the head dodging business as displayed by Jackson, but that the thing is done was well illustrated when Jackson, without being hit a blow, worked like a battering ram on Godfrey's frame.

There is one fact that must be observed by pugilists and that is that they must be careful in a clinch, careful especially that the other fellow does not get in his punishing work.

It frequently occurs that the opponent's arms are so located that the first man to break away or unlock himself leaves an opening which the other man will certainly not overlook.

Jackson gave a good illustration of the genuine clinch where neither man is at a disadvantage and each has the power by pushing his opponent off with the left to avoid being hit on the break-away.

In the position photographed, should Jackson let go Choynski's left elbow so as to hit him either in the ribs or face, Choynski's movement of self-protection would be to throw his left hand up, thereby pressing his wrist on Jackson's windpipe and forcing his head backward in a most painful and unsteady attitude.