Wild Thing by Bernard O'Mahoney, Lew Yates Page A

he must have known it was a mechanical wreck.
    I read in the local paper that a man named Johnny Sullivan was appealing for top amateur fighters to join him at a gym in Preston and turn professional. I knew all about Johnny. He had started his remarkable boxing career in his father’s ‘Battling Sullivan’s Boxing Booth’, with which he travelled nationwide fighting all comers. After brawling in the booths, Johnny had turned professional at 16 and soon earned a reputation for being a very stylish, exciting, heavy-handed puncher with the ability to analyse his opponents’ style very quickly. Every one of his ninety-seven professional fights was a crowd-pleaser. After knocking out an opponent named Ronnie Grogan in the second round of a bout, Johnny was awarded the prestigious Boxing News ‘Fighter of Merit’ award. He then went to America and topped the bill at Madison Square Garden against top opponents Gordon Wallace, Mike Gillo, Rory Calhoun and Joey Giambra. On his return to Britain Johnny knocked out Gordon Hazel in the first round to win the British middleweight and Commonwealth (British Empire) middleweight titles aged just 22. But a controversial decision later saw him lose these titles to Pat McAteer. He returned to have six more bouts in America, then became a light heavyweight in Britain, where he finished his career against Tonga’s Johnny Halifihi and Trinidad’s Yolande Pompey.
    The opportunity to have such a seasoned fighter as Johnny as my manager was too good to miss. I telephoned the gym, and Johnny invited me over to assess my ability. I don’t know what came over me, but even before meeting Johnny I told Jean that we were moving to Preston. ‘Are you mad, Lew?’ she asked. ‘We have a home here. You have a job. In Preston we have nothing.’
    ‘And we will end up with nothing if we stay here,’ I replied. ‘I want to do something for us. I want you and Glynn to be proud of me. I want to be a champion fighter.’
    Jean looked at me as if I had finally gone mad. ‘Unfortunately you’re the boss, Lew,’ she said, shaking her head, ‘so if that’s what you really, really want, we will go.’
    I didn’t know it at the time, but leaving St Helens, where Jean and I had been so happy, was going to prove to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
    When I arrived at the gym for my assessment, I was told that I would have to spar with three separate opponents. ‘Each of these fighters has a different technique,’ Johnny said. ‘I want to see how you defend against different attacks and how you attack different defences.’
    When I turned to go and get changed, Johnny’s father, ‘Battling Sam’ Sullivan, stood in front of me. ‘Show me some moves,’ he said. As I took up various poses, ducked and weaved, Sam began jabbing me. I thought he was testing my jaw, because half-hearted taps into my face soon became explosive hard thuds. Determined to impress both Johnny and his father I took the punishment and stood my ground. ‘You will do, lad,’ Sam said. ‘Get changed. Show me what you can do in that ring.’
    In the very first round of the first bout I knocked the guy I was fighting down, and there he remained. In the second round of my second bout the referee stepped in, saying I was too strong for my opponent. In the third round of my third bout I knocked a tall lad with a long reach clean out. Sam came into the dressing-room as I was getting changed and said that the fighters were complaining because they had never been hit so hard. ‘We want you to turn professional,’ he said. ‘Believe me, lad, you have what it takes. Johnny has applied for his licence to manage fighters. We will be able to get you big-money bouts in America. You can go all the way, Lew, I know it.’
    When I got home, I could not wait to tell Jean what Sam had said. Visions of me winning titles and earning vast amounts of money swirled through my head. My dream could now become reality, but I would have to