Pugilists and policemen

Boxing a bloody affair in 19th century Arkansas

Professional boxer Jermain Taylor’s ongoing legal problems for shooting his cousin reminds me that professional boxing’s sordid reputation goes far back in the history of Arkansas. Professional boxing did not make its debut in Arkansas until November 1872, and that first match ended in an eye-gouging foul.

The late historian Margaret Ross said boxing “got off to a stormy start, but although it was considered a lowbrow form of recreation, there was a great deal of interest in it.” The editor of the Arkansas Gazette was biting in his criticism of this first bout: “The first regular prize fight — or rather the first time two men ever deliberately concluded to maul each other for money — in or about this city, took place yesterday evening about two o’clock, at Gibson’s fields, about two miles above the city.”

Fearing problems with local authorities, the fight was held outside the city limits of Little Rock, and the exact time was never advertised, though word-ofmouth ensured a crowd of about 200. The Gazette refused to cover the fight, but a highly critical correspondent wrote that the match took place at a picnic area “about one mile from the penitentiary (should have been inside that institution)” and that “so soon as the first round was through with, all were well satisfied that it was a put-up job.”

The correspondent, who signed his article “Eye Witness,” also injected the fight into partisan politics. In a swipe at the ruling Reconstruction government, Eye Witness wrote that no Democrats attended the fight “except your correspondent, who is sorry.”

The fighters — or “pugilists” as they were often called — were Sam Collyer, whom Margaret Ross believed to be the favorite, and Patsy McGraw, a railroad laborer from Argenta — modern North Little Rock. Collyer, who wore a pair of tights held up with a leather strap, was described in one newspaper article as making “a good appearance, although his flesh was a trifle too flabby for excellent work.” McGraw, who was considerably smaller than Collyer, was dressed like his opponent “with the exception of gaiters, and a green sash around his waist.”

Boxing without gloves, the fighters both ended up bloody and exhausted. McGraw suffered a serious eye wound when “Collyer sent a terrific blow on McGraw’s left peeper which effectually closed that organ for the rest of the battle.” While serious punches were thrown, the fight devolved into a series of “simple clinches and ineffectual blows around the head and neck.”

In the seventh and final round, both men were desperate, and while “the two men fought up near McGraw’s corner and against the ropes … it was claimed that McGraw had attempted to gouge Collyer.” Eye-gouging was a traditional component of frontier fighting, but the boxing rules forbade it — and Collyer was declared the winner. Though McGraw’s supporters were grumbling, “McGraw broke away from them, and having turned a couple of handsprings, went up to Collyer, shook hands with him and kissed him on the left cheek.”

The second prize fight in Arkansas was held at Baring Cross, a new town on the Cairo and Fulton Railroad next door to Argenta, in March 1873. The fighters were Jack Madden of St. Louis and Billy Ward of Kansas. Like the first fight, this one ended when “foul blows” gave the win to Ward. The decision was rendered just as Argenta police broke up the fight, and both boxers were hauled before a justice of the peace. Ward, the winner of the bout, used $9.50 of his winnings to pay his fine, but Madden managed to escape during the confusion resulting from a loud argument he had with the black justice of the peace.

Ward decided he liked boxing, and he teamed up with a sleazy manager-promoter named Marengo Joe — whose real name was Joseph Payne, or Amos Payne, or George Carryall, all names he used at various times. He was well known in Little Rock where he was a regular at the gambling houses, saloons and brothels in an area near the steamboat landing derisively called Fighting Alley or Battle Row.

Margaret Ross found Marengo Joe to be “a man of great ingenuity, whose talent for getting into scrapes was exceeded only by his ability to get out of them.” Joe was proud of his work, and he hotly denied being a “murderer or petty thief,” describing himself as “a genuine sharper and gambler.” He said he had killed only two men, one in self-defense and one killed as a deputy marshal in Hays City, Kan. He had served as a deputy to the illustrious “Wild Bill” Hickok on two occasions.

Since the Little Rock area had proved unwelcoming to boxing, in the summer of 1873 Marengo Joe arranged for Ward to fight in the small boom town of Fulton on the Red River in southwest Arkansas where the Cairo and Fulton Railroad terminated. Both Marengo Joe and Billy Ward also got hired as deputies to the local Hempstead County sheriff.

The stage was set for boxing matches free of those pesky Argenta policemen.