“MAULING THE MAULER” and “GRIMES’ PRIME TIME CRIME”
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880. JACK DEMPSEY VS BILL BRENNAN
HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP FIGHT
DECEMBER 14, 1920
MADISON SQUARE GARDEN
QUALITY OF PLAY—6.94
DRAMA—6.76
STAR POWER—8.22
CONTEMPORARY IMPORT—7.05
HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE—6.70
LOCAL IMPACT—7.28
TOTAL: 42.95
“MAULING THE MAULER”
Make a list of New York sports demigods, and you will probably name quite a few before coming to Jack Dempsey. But the “Manassa Mauler” was arguably the most popular of all NYC sports legends in his time, and a strong case could be made that he was the most Big Apple of them all, thanks in large part to his fabled and eponymous restaurant that he presided over on Broadway for decades after retiring from the boxing ring. A rite of passage for any fight fan or sportswriter in the middle part of the 20th Century was to have a drink with the proprietor at Dempsey’s joint and listen to the man himself—for he was always there—talk about the sweet science in his curiously high-pitched voice, complete with an accent that retained a hint of his Rocky Mountain mining town upbringing.
Dempsey skyrocketed to fame across the land when he felled Jess Willard, the Great White Hope who had seized the heavyweight belt from Jack Johnson, on a blazing July Fourth afternoon in 1919 in Toledo, Ohio, of all places. A ferocious body puncher who went all out at all times, Dempsey dismantled the supposedly unbeatable Willard with shocking ease. The following months were anything but easy, as Dempsey was beset by attacks in the press on his lack of patriotism and courage for not fighting in World War One, as well as a bizarre, contentious trial in which his prostitute ex-wife attempted to railroad him.
By 1920, however, Dempsey had mostly shrugged off the bad publicity and was riding the wave of the newfound love of sports in America. Babe Ruth had come to New York, Man O’ War had won the Triple Crown, Bill Tilden was dazzling tennis fans, and so on. But the king of them all was Dempsey, and the natural place for him to fight was Madison Square Garden II, the Stanford White-designed, Beaux-arts masterpiece on 26th Street, the one actually at Madison Square (the “old Garden” at 8th and 50th wouldn’t open until 1925, and the current Penn Station locale came 43 years after that in 1968).
Boxing had been only quasi-legal for years in NYC, but just recently the Walker Law (named for Mayor Jimmy Walker, aka “Beau James,” who had been instrumental in pushing the law through—and was extremely popular as a result) had been passed, giving the sport the legitimacy it required. That set the stage for the Garden to enter its prime as the Mecca of boxing. The arena was run by Tex Rickard, who was dying to promote a Dempsey fight but loathed Jack’s manager, “Doc” Kearns. Pragmatism trumped hatred, however—there was too much money at stake. A fight was arranged in the Garden for late in the year, with a tough veteran named “KO Bill” Brennan.
Brennan claimed Irish ancestry, but he was actually German, born Wilhelm Schenck in Louisville in 1893. The War to End All Wars had made German ancestry problematic, hence the ruse. Brennan was known as “The Battling Bartender” thanks to his past as a mixologist and street fighter in Chicago, and he had fought as a pro over 60 times, making him a worthy opponent, even if Dempsey was installed as a 4-1 betting favorite. Brennan and Dempsey had already fought, back in 1918—Dempsey whacked Brennan to the canvas so violently that KO Bill broke his ankle twisting down.
Dempsey trained for the rematch aboard a battleship, the USS Granite State, moored off 96th Street, but mainly he trained in the City nightclubs, where the new Prohibition laws were merely an irritant. “Dempsey had been doing the town each night with a sleek, sophisticated divorcee,” Kearns recalled in his memoir. “The lady was showing him the town. All of which turned out to have been exceedingly exhausting.”
“Everybody wants to see the slashing, tearing titleholder,” wrote the Times of Dempsey, and tickets, priced from $2-$25, went instantly. On fight night, Tuesday, December 14, 1920, with Christmas in the air across the City, nearly 17,000 people, far beyond capacity, slammed into the Garden. While everyone wanted to watch Dempsey, more than a few still held a grudge over his “slacker” status as a wartime noncombatant, and Jack heard more than a few boos as he entered the ring, wearing just his white trunks and a towel slung over one shoulder.
The anti-Dempsey contingent didn’t arrive at MSG with much hope of seeing Jack fall, but early in the second round, he nearly did, thanks to a dandy right uppercut from Brennan. “Had Bill seized the opportunity,” Dempsey later said, “the title would have changed hands then and there. For a second or two, I was helpless.”
“It looked for a moment as if Dempsey would go crashing to the floor and be counted out,” thought an unbylined witness for the Times. “Brennan seemed surprised. He stepped back to look the champion over. Bill could hardly believe his eyes. He did not seem to be able to grasp that he had the champ in a dangerous way. That brief hesitation allowed Dempsey to regain his scattered senses.”
This was the fight that where Dempsey proved he was more than just a windmilling knockout artist. He was, in fact, tougher than leather. Shaking off the near-knockdown, Kid Blackie (as he was known in his early fighting days out west) began a wehrwill, or war of will, with the pseudo-Irish German fighter. He pounded relentlessly on Brennan’s body while he ate shots off the top of his head. It was a merciless, shockingly tight fight throughout.
In the tenth, Brennan landed another big blow, a scything right that almost took Dempsey’s ear clean off. “Suddenly the whole side of my head was warm with my blood,” Dempsey recalled. “I touched my ear and it felt like it was hanging off. I was afraid that if Bill hit me with a solid punch, or even a glancing one, he might knock the ear off. I was afraid of losing my title, too, losing it in the first real test I had.” Brennan, naturally, zeroed in on the wounded ear—which just made Dempsey angry. Coming out for the 12th round Jack shot KO Bill a look one reporter described as “white with ghastly rage.”
Dempsey had wobbled Brennan late in the 11th, and now found Brennan’s underbelly with a savage uppercut that almost cut the underdog in half. “I dug a right into his solar plexus up to my wrist,” said Dempsey, “and when he doubled over I got him on the ribs with a left hook that had everything I owned.” Brennan went flying to the deck. Incredibly, he rose and nearly beat the count, but was just a hair late. Dempsey was declared the winner by knockout at 1:57 of the 12th round, and kept his title—barely.
Dempsey acknowledged the wild cheers of the huge throng, now solidly in his corner. He looked by far the worse for wear. His white trunks were “as bloody as a rag in an abattoir.” His right ear hung down like a dying slug. His lip was opened, his eyes swollen, his face caked in gore. But he was still champ, and his career was only beginning to soar. And New York was about to become the epicenter of boxing.
AFTERMATH:
Dempsey’s legend will be covered in more depth as he appears on this list in later fights. As for Brennan, he beat Jack into the service industry, using his cut from the fight to open a speakeasy—“Brennan’s Club Tia Juana”—uptown in Washington Heights, at 600 West 171st Street. In June of 1924 a pair of ruffians came in to the club and told Brennan he needed to switch beer distributors, posthaste, or else. “The Battling Bartender” was no neophyte to the ways of the mob, having worked for so long in Chicago, and indeed may have been secure in the knowledge he was protected by this don or that capo. Either way, he tossed out the two toughs.
A couple of nights later, as Brennan sat in the club with a showgirl and a state trooper (who drank more than anyone), the wise guys showed up again at the door. When Brennan appeared, one pulled a pistol and shot the fighter, once in the gut, once near his collarbone. Brennan started to chase his assailants down the street, then stopped and collapsed. He died before he could be put in an ambulance.
“I guess poor Bill bought the wrong beer,” said Dempsey.
WHAT THEY SAID:
“Dempsey’s ear looked like a cross between a veal cutlet and a bloody sponge.”
—Grantland Rice, New York Tribune
FURTHER READING:
When Jack Dempsey Warred With Bill Brennan, by Carlos Acevedo, Hannibalboxing.com
VIDEO:
879. VIRGINIA CAVALIERS VS IONA GAELS
NCAA TOURNAMENT
FIRST ROUND
MARCH 16, 1984
BRENDAN BYRNE ARENA
QUALITY OF PLAY—7.66
DRAMA—7.89
STAR POWER—6.28
CONTEMPORARY IMPORT—7.75
HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE—6.46
LOCAL IMPACT—6.92
TOTAL: 42.96
“GRIMES’ PRIME TIME CRIME”
Rory Grimes was one of the best guards ever to play at Iona, the small Catholic school in New Rochelle. He’s in the Gaels Hall of Fame, for chrissakes. But he saved his worst game for his biggest game, in the first round of the 1984 NCAA Tournament against Virginia.
This eastern subregional was held at the Meadowlands, as the 7th-seeded Wahoos took on the 10th-seeded Gaels. Iona had been a respectable 23-8 for the season, but were just third in the Metro Atlantic Athletic Conference. But they rolled to win the conference tournament, earning a place in the Big Enchilada. Virginia, coached by Terry Holland, likewise was a conference also-ran, finishing just sixth in the rugged ACC. But nine of their eleven losses came to tournament teams, and the tough slate earned them a tournament bid. With Othell Wilson, Olden Polynice and Rick Carlisle, the Cavs were talented enough, but not much more so than Pat Kennedy’s Iona team, who were led by the backcourt of Grimes and Steve Burtt, a tremendous player and honorable mention All-American in 1984. Iona played an up-tempo style, while the Wahoos liked to slow the pace, so the team that best foisted its will on the other would likely win.
The 16,714 in the crowd on Friday evening, March 16, 1984, were overwhelmingly for the team from across the Tappan Zee. Iona was 8-1 in games at Brendan Byrne Arena at that point, having just won the MAAC tournament there, and thought of the Meadowlands as a second home. But the MAAC final had been played a full two weeks earlier, and the Gaels had been waiting impatiently since. Either the rust or the crowd support seemed to make the Gaels tight. Grimes in particular was struggling, missing every shot he took in a ragged first half. Burtt kept the Gaels from going under, but Virginia opened up an early 16-9 lead and led throughout the first twenty minutes. A Polynice tip-in at the halftime buzzer gave UVA a 5-point lead. Iona managed just six fast break points in the half, a telling sign.
Virginia kept up the game control until a wild burst by Burtt turned the game on its foundation. With Iona down at the 8:15 mark Burtt scored 11 straight for Iona, and his final hoop pushed the Gaels in front, 56-55. UVA began a stall ball approach to try and cool Burtt off, and the approach seemed to throw off both clubs, especially from the charity stripe.
The entire game proved a free throw nightmare—Iona was 9-17, UVA 8-20. And the blown opportunities continued right to the end. Both teams took turns missing free throws, six in all in the final three minutes (all front ends of 1-and-1s, compounding their importance), leaving the game knotted. With 12 seconds to go, UVA inbounded after a timeout. Wilson dribbled away some clock then charged in against Burtt, who was hampered by playing with four fouls. He created a hint of separation and put up a stop and pop one-hander, which went in to give Virgina a 2-point lead, 58-56 (Wilson finished with 17). Six seconds remained. Iona called timeout.
Despite being 0-12 from the floor, and scoreless in the game, Kennedy put the ball in the hands of his floor general, Grimes, rather than Burtt, who had 28 points, a dubious decision.
“Rory is one of our leading foul shooters, so I was confident,” Kennedy explained after the game. “I have no regrets about having the ball in his hands at the end.”
Sure enough, Grimes weaved through traffic and got to the hole, where his layup was prevented by a Polynice foul. Grimes would go to the line with 2 seconds left and a chance to rewrite his goat status. He hit the first try, remarkably the first point he had scored in the 39:58 of game time.
But he missed the second, clanging it off the left side of the rim. UVA wrapped up the rebound, killed the final two ticks, and advanced to the second round. Grimes and his teammates fell to the floor in agony. They had shot just 43 percent from the field, and scarcely better from the free throw line. One of the best Iona teams in school history went home after 40 frustrating minutes.
“I certainly am glad to see the last of Steve Burtt,” said Holland.
AFTERMATH:
Like fellow conference mates NC State the season before, the Cavs adopted the saying “survive and advance,” playing and winning tight affairs all the way to the Final Four. In round two they edged Arkansas by a bucket, and in the regionals in Atlanta eased past Syracuse by eight before winning another two-point encounter, this one over Bobby Knight and Indiana. They fell at last in the national semifinals, in yet another game decided by just two points, to Houston's Phi Slamma Jamma club led by Akeem Olajuwon and Clyde Drexler.
Pat Kennedy used his strong work at Iona (and the recommendation of Jim Valvano, whom Kennedy was an assistant to at Iona) to grab the Florida State job in 1986. He went on to coach for 35 years across a number of schools, but never approached the Final Four.
WHAT THEY SAID:
“I was thinking about it too much. I was thinking about all the field goals I had missed. I was thinking too much instead of just shooting it."
--Rory Grimes
FURTHER READING:
Maroon & Gold Legacy: Chronicling 75 Years of Iona College Sports by Peter Kollmann and Jeff Castellano
VIDEO: