with a good left jab and a florid turn of phrase, both of which made him popular with reporters. Once, when asked what he thought of the great and much-avoided black fighter Sam Langford, O’Brien replied seriously, ‘When he appeared on the scene of combat you knew you were cooked.’
In 1906, O’Brien became one of the few professional boxers to appear in newspapers other than on the sports or crime pages. He achieved a brief notoriety on a stopover in New York City when, because of his avocation, he was refused admission to a succession of good hotels. With his huge shoulders and a nose spread magnificently over his face it would have been difficult to mistake O’Brien for a librarian, and boxers were personae non gratae in respectable company. The New York American commented drily on the matter in an editorial, which with some hyperbole referred to the champion as ‘the most eminent professor of the squared circle in the United States’, and went on to sneer, ‘yet when, with his valet and business manager and the rest of the staff necessary to the comfort and dignity of a champion heavyweight, he drove from hotel to hotel on Fifth Avenue, he was politely, but firmly, asked to seek some other spot, or, in the language of his associates in his own profession, “to skidoo”’.
By the time Johnson won the heavyweight title, O’Brien’s career was coming to an end. He had plenty to look back on. He had won the world light-heavyweight title by knocking out Bob Fitzsimmons. The title fight had been in the nature of a grudge match, as in an earlier no-decision bout, Fitzsimmons was convinced, only the intervention of the police had saved his opponent from a knockout. ‘I had it on him when I boxed him in Philadelphia until he yelped for help from the police and the bluecoats came to his assistance,’ claimed the Cornish fighter sourly.
O’Brien paid little attention to his light-heavyweight title, preferring to look for good-money bouts among the big fighters. He had even fought twice for the heavyweight championship, in Los Angeles in 1906 and 1907, drawing with and then losing to Tommy Burns, a heavyweight as diminutive, shrewd and cunning as the experienced O’Brien himself.
Those bouts with Burns displayed O’Brien’s sense of realism in spades. The first fight, refereed by retired champion James J. Jeffries, started with mutual tantrums when O’Brien objected to a curious trusslike belt being worn by Burns to protect, he claimed, an old injury. O’Brien objected hotly, declaring that the belt was just another example of Burns’s gamesmanship and was an added source of protection for the champion. The challenger then tried to tear the belt from Burns’s waist. In turn Burns tried to hoist down O’Brien’s shorts. The dignified James J. Jeffries, who had been looking on in amazement, stepped forward and ordered Burns back to his dressing room to get rid of the support.
The actual fight was an anticlimax. It ended in a tame and apparently overrehearsed draw. The next day, a sheepish Jeffries, fed up with the whole tawdry affair, disclosed that he had been approached beforehand by both contestants to announce the verdict of a draw if the action had seemed at all close. Later, O’Brien, who had a tendency for garrulity, admitted, ‘The promoter, (Bill) McCarey, had figured it out that, if we fought a spirited draw, he could bill the return match during fiesta week and make a small fortune by charging top prices.’ To call the ensuing bout spirited would be an exaggeration, but the controversy gave the encounter far more publicity than the lack of action in the ring had merited. A return match was set up for six months later.
The second fight caused a sensation before it had even started. Burns walked to the centre of the ring and shouted self-righteously to the crowd, ‘Gentlemen, I declare that all bets that have been made up to now are off! I agreed to lose to O’Brien but now we are both in
In 1906, O’Brien became one of the few professional boxers to appear in newspapers other than on the sports or crime pages. He achieved a brief notoriety on a stopover in New York City when, because of his avocation, he was refused admission to a succession of good hotels. With his huge shoulders and a nose spread magnificently over his face it would have been difficult to mistake O’Brien for a librarian, and boxers were personae non gratae in respectable company. The New York American commented drily on the matter in an editorial, which with some hyperbole referred to the champion as ‘the most eminent professor of the squared circle in the United States’, and went on to sneer, ‘yet when, with his valet and business manager and the rest of the staff necessary to the comfort and dignity of a champion heavyweight, he drove from hotel to hotel on Fifth Avenue, he was politely, but firmly, asked to seek some other spot, or, in the language of his associates in his own profession, “to skidoo”’.
By the time Johnson won the heavyweight title, O’Brien’s career was coming to an end. He had plenty to look back on. He had won the world light-heavyweight title by knocking out Bob Fitzsimmons. The title fight had been in the nature of a grudge match, as in an earlier no-decision bout, Fitzsimmons was convinced, only the intervention of the police had saved his opponent from a knockout. ‘I had it on him when I boxed him in Philadelphia until he yelped for help from the police and the bluecoats came to his assistance,’ claimed the Cornish fighter sourly.
O’Brien paid little attention to his light-heavyweight title, preferring to look for good-money bouts among the big fighters. He had even fought twice for the heavyweight championship, in Los Angeles in 1906 and 1907, drawing with and then losing to Tommy Burns, a heavyweight as diminutive, shrewd and cunning as the experienced O’Brien himself.
Those bouts with Burns displayed O’Brien’s sense of realism in spades. The first fight, refereed by retired champion James J. Jeffries, started with mutual tantrums when O’Brien objected to a curious trusslike belt being worn by Burns to protect, he claimed, an old injury. O’Brien objected hotly, declaring that the belt was just another example of Burns’s gamesmanship and was an added source of protection for the champion. The challenger then tried to tear the belt from Burns’s waist. In turn Burns tried to hoist down O’Brien’s shorts. The dignified James J. Jeffries, who had been looking on in amazement, stepped forward and ordered Burns back to his dressing room to get rid of the support.
The actual fight was an anticlimax. It ended in a tame and apparently overrehearsed draw. The next day, a sheepish Jeffries, fed up with the whole tawdry affair, disclosed that he had been approached beforehand by both contestants to announce the verdict of a draw if the action had seemed at all close. Later, O’Brien, who had a tendency for garrulity, admitted, ‘The promoter, (Bill) McCarey, had figured it out that, if we fought a spirited draw, he could bill the return match during fiesta week and make a small fortune by charging top prices.’ To call the ensuing bout spirited would be an exaggeration, but the controversy gave the encounter far more publicity than the lack of action in the ring had merited. A return match was set up for six months later.
The second fight caused a sensation before it had even started. Burns walked to the centre of the ring and shouted self-righteously to the crowd, ‘Gentlemen, I declare that all bets that have been made up to now are off! I agreed to lose to O’Brien but now we are both in
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