Jack Johnson

FROM THE BOOKS

   Where does he stand among the champions? Would he have beaten Sullivan-Corbett-Dempsey-Tunney-Marciano? What was his influence on boxing? Was he, the ring apart, a good citizen soured by ill luck, or a bad man to the marrow of his bones? One cannot leave Jack Johnson stranded on the beach of immortality without raising such queries as these.
   As a boxer it has been claimed that he stands at the very top, perhaps in magnificent loneliness. His enemies attack him on two grounds. First, they say he was a great defensive boxer; secondly, they point out he fought very few fights indeed against really first-class men. The first argument is quite fallacious: the second has some truth in it.
   The point about Johnson's defensive skill is that it was so marvelous and so rare that it was apt to obscure his much more commonplace gift of a punch. Early in his career George Gardner thought he had the heaviest punch in the business: so did Marvin Hart. Burns would never be just on the subject of Johnson's merits, but those who saw him up-ended by that historic right uppercut in the first round at Sydney had no doubt that Johnson could punch his weight. Jeffries (and Corbett in Jeffries' corner) knew that the Negro was one of the hardest hitters anyone had ever unleashed in the ring. Notice that even against Frank Moran, when he was out of condition and ageing, he had one chance of smashing home that right uppercut; and the blow broke Moran's nose in two places.
   The chief evidence in support of Johnson's power as a puncher is contemporary, and it doesn't come from boxing circles at all, but from the common speech of people. A heavy shell in World War I was nicknamed a "Jack Johnson". The world could have thought out no braver accolade than this spontaneous tribute.

Denzil Batchelor-Jack Johnson and His Times