PRIDE & JOY
Eighteen years after his death and a few weeks before a statue is erected in his honour, former British heavyweight champion David Pearce is remembered by Gareth Jones with a little help from the fighter’s brothers
EDDIE THOMAS was something of a god in Welsh boxing. A triple champion himself, he had become world famous as the manager and trainer who guided Ken Buchanan and Howard Winstone to world titles. So when he introduced a handsome teenager to the Welsh media as “potentially the best I’ve ever had”, we listened. And for a while, it seemed the maestro’s confidence was justified. But in the end, it was clear that David Pearce had been born just a few years too soon.
Across the planet, heavyweights had been getting bigger. No longer were the likes of Henry Cooper or Rocky Marciano, neither of whom ever scaled as much as 200lbs, capable of mixing it with the behemoths emerging on to the scene.
So the authorities reacted, introducing a new weight. Cruiserweight (once, confusingly, an alternative name for lightheavy, on these shores at least) would cater for men up to 190lbs, although that was later increased to 200lbs. But the British Board of Control, never the quickest to accept change, did not recognise the new class until 1985 – and that came too late for the lad from Newport.
By then, Pearce’s career had been abruptly ended by a failed brain scan. And although he was at the time the heavyweight champion of Great Britain, who knows what he might have achieved had he been able to campaign in this new, almost tailor-made division?
Former booth fighter Wally Pearce had seven sons, raised in the Pill area of the Monmouthshire town, and six of them went on to box professionally. That was no great surprise, given the environment in which they grew up.
“All our uncles used to come around on the weekend,”
recalls oldest brother Walter, universally known as “Bimbo”, “and it wouldn’t be long before the gloves were out. We were surrounded by boxing from when we were little.” David was, from an early age, clearly the most talented. “He used to come with me when I was boxing amateur – he must have been nine or 10,” says Bimbo, who won Welsh honours at junior and senior level. “I remember we fixed him up with a fight one time and he outboxed this kid. Turned out he was the British champion!”
When Bimbo turned pro, it was with that man Thomas, so he was the obvious choice to guide young David into the paid ranks. The enthusiastic pupil, with younger brother Gary for company, moved to Merthyr to be close to the Penydarren gym where Eddie honed his champions.
“When he was younger, he was a brilliant boxer, really outstanding,” says Bimbo. “But as he grew bigger he had to change his style.”
Gary, who himself became Welsh lightmiddleweight champion – though a natural welter – agrees.
“Some said David looked ponderous, but he was faster than me,” he insists. “He could bang, sure, but he could actually box as well. He had a fantastic jab, but because of his build he became more like Marciano in the ring.”
It was an appropriate comparison. When he lost his job at the local steelworks, David spent his redundancy money on a trip to the former world heavyweight ruler’s home city, Boston. And Gary, who went with him, remembers the teenager’s impact.
“When we arrived at the gym there were 20-odd heavyweights around the place,” he says. “David sparred with them all over the next few days and by the time we left there was only one. The rest had disappeared!” ➤
THE BOARD DIDN’T HELP, HE COULD HAVE BEEN WORLD CHAMPION”
Back in the 1970s, novice heavyweight tournaments were all the rage and Thomas staged one of his own to supplement that run by Jack Solomons at the World Sporting Club in London’s West End. Young David won both and boosted his bank balance by £3,000.
Victory in seven rounds over Southern Area ruler Denton Ruddock in 1979 paved the way for a crack at Welsh heavyweight champion Neville Meade the following year. And, for the first time, Pearce came up against a significant discrepancy in size. Despite scaling 14st 5lbs, his heaviest yet, he conceded nearly three stone to Meade, who also had experience on his side, having been punching for pay for more than five years after winning a Commonwealth Games gold.
The occasion may have taken its toll, as well. David, then only 20, was decked early in the second and was shipping punishment on the ropes when referee Jim Brimmell stepped in to rescue him.
“He got hit on the top of the head and that did him,” explains Gary. “But when the ref stopped it, he wasn’t happy. He reckoned he was OK to go on, but Eddie disagreed and they had a bit of an argument about it. But he was still young, only a child, really. And they say a loss does you good in the long run. It did with David.”
Apart from a disqualification when enthusiasm took over and he hit John Rafferty while the Scot was down, Pearce went on a run of success that included a third-round knockout of the unbeaten Tottenham giant, Larry Mcdonald, and victory in seven rounds over future world champion Dennis Andries, a result which restored some family honour: Andries’ debut, in Newport, had seen him flatten another Pearce brother, Ray.
Meade, meanwhile, had acquired the Lonsdale Belt in a stunning upset, knocking out Ulsterman Gordon Ferris inside a round at Villa Park. A rematch with David was inevitable – and this time things were very different.
By the time the pair met at Cardiff’s spanking new St David’s Hall in September 1983, the Swansea man had just passed his 35th birthday - although there were rumours that he had seen the light of day in Jamaica a year or two before the “official” date. His challenger was now a mature and confident 24, a man in his prime.
The encounter was the last British title fight to be contested over 15 rounds - the contracts had been signed before the Board reduced the duration to 12 - but few expected it to last that long. Meade had, unusually, applied himself in training, and came in more than 20lbs lighter than for their first meeting; that was still a full stone heavier than the challenger.
The way David bounced around his corner during the introductions suggested to some that he was over-excited by the significance of the night – and by the fact that he was going up against the one man who had battered him. Yet even when the holder dominated the opening stages with his left lead,
HE WASN’T INTERESTED IN RICHES. HE JUST WANTED TO BOX, AND TO WIN”
HE SLEPT ON A BENCH BUT FLOORED A MAN LARRY HOLMES COULDN’T DROP”
the Newport youngster was unflustered, calmly avoiding the onrushing veteran.
When Neville landed a solid right uppercut in the fourth, Pearce merely grinned. Meade suffered a further reality check when he managed to land a desperate right in the eighth, only for its recipient to turn to the crowd and laugh.
Oozing with self-belief, David stepped in and, as the bewildered champion slipped on water in his corner, landed a right which dropped him. The ninth brought the official passing of the baton. Allowing Meade’s final effort to subside, Pearce landed a thumping left which draped the old man across the top rope and prompted referee Roland Dakin to move to the rescue.
Six months later Pearce found himself in Limoges to tackle European champion Lucien Rodriguez. The Frenchman had been outpointed by WBC boss Larry Holmes, but was making the sixth defence of his second reign in charge of the continent’s big boys.
“He was up against it before he faced Rodriguez,” says ‘Bimbo’. “Both his hands were giving him problems and then a mix-up over the hotel booking meant he spent the night before the fight on a bench. He still did well - after all, he floored a man Larry Holmes couldn’t drop.”
In fact, the Welshman decked him twice in a torrid eighth round - there was a suspiciously long count the second time - but overall Rodriguez was on top and emerged with a unanimous decision, although the brave loser was given a prolonged ovation by the French fans. Yet the hardest blow came when David returned home.
A routine scan in 1982 had revealed a cyst on his brain, but evidence from a Harley Street specialist convinced the Board to let him box on. Prior to his European adventure, there were further queries, but he was allowed to go through with the bout. Then, after further discussion, they dropped the bombshell.
“He was born with this thing on his brain - most of us have them, apparently - and there was no evidence that boxing made it worse,” says Bimbo. “But they still took his licence off him.”
The Board explained that new regulations meant they would not licence anyone with an abnormality of the brain, however caused. Thousands of pounds on legal and medical fees were wasted.
“He didn’t get much help from the Board,” says Gary. “Then, just after they took his licence away, they brought in the cruiserweight division - and Glenn Mccrory won a [IBF] world title. That could have been David, but there you go.”
Apart from one best-forgotten appearance six years later on an obscure card in the US, the dream was over. And retirement brought little consolation, with ill-health dogging him until a premature death at the age of 41.
But the people of Newport still hold him in their hearts. The gym of Alway ABC, which he helped found, is now the David Pearce Memorial Hall, while public donations have raised £60,000 for a statue to be erected in the city centre. And its unveiling on June 9 will not mark the end.
“We will continue raising money for community causes in Newport and the region,” says campaign organiser Luke Pearce, David’s nephew.
“It will be part of the ‘Newport’s Rocky’ legacy. Maybe we can sponsor some young boxer who wants to be a champion.”
Let David’s brothers have the last word.
“He was just born to fight,” says Gary. “From an early age he just wanted to be a champion. He wasn’t interested in riches. He never drank, never got involved with drugs or anything like that. He just wanted to box - and to win.”
“He was such a talent,” adds Bimbo. “He proved it when he beat Andries. And a gentleman - a genuine, nice man.”
And so say all of us who were privileged to know him.