‘FLASH HARRY’
Looking back on the career of a debonair defensive master
SOME pre-war fighters considered a cauliflower ear to be a badge of honour, a marker to distinguish them from non-fighting men. Not Leeds lightweight Harry Mason. For Harry, the cauliflower ear he’d acquired was a great embarrassment. First, it undermined his reputation (thoroughly earned) as one of the finest defensive boxers of his day. Second, it just didn’t look good, and Mason cared about his appearance.
Always immaculately dressed outside the ring, it was Harry’s proud boast that no opponent could ruffle his neatly brilliantined hair, even in 20 rounds of boxing. In an age of modest, no-nonsense fighters, Mason was an exhibitionist nicknamed “Flash Harry” and “The Little Fiddler”. The latter sobriquet had a double meaning. Harry, an accomplished musician, would play his fiddle in the dressing room before each bout, often to the chagrin of his opponent. Then, once in the ring, Mason would ‘fiddle’ his way to victory with clever and crafty tactics.
Harry, a Jewish East Ender, was born in Spitalfields in 1903. Boyhood outings to the famous Premierland fight hall inspired him to become a prizefighter, but he only took up the game after moving to Leeds for work. The cockney youngster became a big noise around the fight halls of northern England, and even after returning to London he was still billed as Harry Mason of Leeds.
Mason quickly built a brilliant record and in May 1923 beat Seaman Hall for British and European lightweight honours, with Hall disqualified for a disputed low blow. They met in a return non-title 20-rounder and Harry confirmed his superiority with a clever points win.
After seeing off title challenger Ernie Rice that November, Mason sailed to America, aiming for a world title fight with Benny Leonard. Appearing in several US bouts, Harry made a good impression, particularly when he beat George Carpentier’s stablemate, ex-olympic gold medallist Paul Fritsch, on the undercard of Carpentier versus Gene Tunney at New York’s Polo Grounds. Mason was managed in the US by the influential Jimmy Johnston, but his form wasn’t good enough to get a title fight with Leonard.
In Mason’s absence, the autocratic National Sporting Club declared his British title vacant, Ernie Izzard beating Jack Kirk to become new champion. On hearing this, Harry returned to Britain at once and scored a string of fine wins to secure a title match with Izzard in June 1925. Mason boxed brilliantly to reclaim his crown, with Izzard failing to come out for the ninth.
Then, that November, Harry became a two-weight champion, outscoring Johnny Brown of Hamilton for the welterweight belt. In February ’26, Mason was back at lightweight to defend again against Rice, who was disqualified in five. Then, in April that year, he saw off a challenge for his welter belt from the great Len Harvey. The result: a 20-round draw. But a month later, Harry lost his welterweight crown to Jack Hood on a dubious verdict, and then lost a return title tussle with Hood.
Mason fought on until 1937, with spells in Australia and South Africa. In June 1934, he recaptured the British welterweight title, beating Len “Tiger” Smith by disqualification. But Harry, then past his prime, lost the crown to Pat Butler six months later and never got another shot.
Along with those already mentioned, Mason’s list of victims included British champions Alex Ireland, Fred Webster, Harry Corbett, Mike Honeyman and Jack Hood (in a non-title fight), plus top-notchers such as Alf Mancini, Jack Hyams, Archie Sexton, George Rose, Stoker Reynolds, Jack Moody and Billy Bird. With his crafty ring tactics and flamboyant antics – which included arguing with fight crowds – Mason divided opinion. But love him or loathe him, he could not be ignored.