Name: Career Record: click Birth Name: Albert Griffiths Nationality: Australian Birthplace: Millers Point, Sydney, NSW Hometown: Sydney, New South Wales, Born: 1871-01-01 Died: 1927-12-10 Age at Death: 56 Height: 5′ 4″ Reach: 173 Division:

 Was the first Australian to win a world title (1890)

Albert Griffiths (aka 'Young Griffo') was "Not known as much of a puncher, but his skill was uncanny. He had wonderful headwork, almost inpenetrable defense, dazzling feints, and rapid two-handed methods of attack. The cleverest boxers and hardest punchers were made to look ridiculous when exchanging swats with him. He had a dislike of training and was deemed lazy. There were times he got drunk before a match [such as the Ike Weir and Tommy Tracy bouts]." From the March 6, 1916 Tacoma Daily News, written by Tommy Sullivan.

In 2003, 'Young Griffo' was inducted into the Australian National Boxing Hall of Fame.

The Fort Wayne Weekly Gazette

16 April 1896

McKEEVER WON,

Didn't Put Young Griffo to Sleep but Scored the Greatest Number of Points

A Fair Sized Crowd Witnessed the Two Bullies Fight Twenty Rounds

Griffo the Heavier., But Both Men Said to Be in Very Good Condition

New York, April 13 —A fair sized crowd gathered at the Empire Athletic club, Maspeth, L. I., to night to witness a twenty-round boxing bout between Young Griffo, of Australia, and Charlie McKeever, of Philadelphia. The curtain raiser was a ten round bout between two colored men, namely, Fred Morris, 'Muldoon's Cyclone," of Newark, and Charley Strong, of Newark.

Strong won. McKeever weighed 139 pounds. Griffo looked to be about four pounds heavier. both men were in good condition. Round one

McKeever led off with a left on the jaw. Griffo got back with a right and left on the head. Griffo landed a left swing on the neck. Griffo sent a hard right on the body. At the sounding of the gong McKeever got his right on the body.

Round two

Griffo led off with a light right on the ribs and light left on the face. McKeever put in two light rights on the body. Griffo placed a light right on the wind and Charley replied with a left.

Round three

McKeever sent a right lightly on the ribs, and Griffo landed two hot lefts on the neck. Griffo toyed with the Philadelphian, then sent a left on the face. He repeated this blow, and McKeever landed lefts on the ear and body.

The fourth and fifth rounds were McKeever's by a large majority; the sixth went to Griffo, and in the seventh honors were about even.

The eighth, ninth and tenth rounds showed honors even. In the eleventh round McKeever got in a light left on the head and a good left on the body. He landed right and left on the body and neck without return. Charley put a right hand on the side of Griffo's head and then fought Griffo to the ropes, landing right and left on the body and neck. This was all McKeever's

In the twelfth McKeever landed a left on the body and again on the face. He then sent a right to the body and face, and Griffo sent a left on the head and staggered McKeever. McKeever came back with right and left swings on the body and then landed four left jabs on the face and a right on the body.

Rounds eighteen and nineteen were slow with the advantage slightly in McKeever's favor.

In the twentieth and last round, McKeever landed a left on the face. Griffo swung a left on the head and McKeever got in his right on the head. McKeever followed with a left on the head, and a right on the body. McKeever jabbed a left on the body and a right swing on the head. McKeever landed a left on the face a right on the stomach, which made Griffo back away. McKeever had the greatest number of points to his credit when the gong ended the bout.

Amidst a good deal of excitement Referee Hurst decided the Philadelphian man winner

End

The Fort Wayne Daily News

8 January 1903

YOUNG GRIFFO BACK AS GOOD AS EVER

AUSTRALIAN FIGHTER PROVES A PHYSICAL MARVEL.

AFTER LIGHTWEIGHT HONORS

Tuckhorn, His Manager, Says , His Reburnished Star Will Fight Any

135-Pound Man In the World.

If Young Griffo has really "come back" in the manner reported, he must be put down as the physical wonder of the age. Young Griffo is an Australian pugilist, who has been in this country for a number of years, but who owing to excessive dissipation, has been passed up as a physical wreck and a man who never again would be able to enter the ring.

Now comes San Tuckhorn, Griffo's latest manager, with a challenge to fight any 135-pound man in the world. If Tuckhorn’s words came unsupported, they would be taken as nothing more than the idle boast of a promoter seeking notoriety, but they do not lack for confirmation.

Lou Houseman, probably the best posted man on fight matters in Chicago, has this to say of Griffo. " I saw the clever little Australian put through a course of sprouts the other day, and the manner in which he carried himself was astonishing. He appears to be, if anything, faster than he ever was. His loot work, his assault and defense — particularly the latter — are perfect. Men weighing forty pounds more than "the feather” were handled like novices.

Heart Still Sound.

"The boy looks good. His hair has turned a bit gray — small wonder — but his eyes sparkle and his step is light and springy. I saw a certificate from Dr. Davis, who examined Griffo, in which the doctor states positively that the boy's heart is as healthy as any he had ever examined, and that there was not a physical flaw to be found anywhere."

Griffo had his first bout in more than two years a couple of weeks ago in Peoria, with Jack Bain. Griffo won easily, and surprised everyone with his great form. That Griffo was as clever a man with his fists as ever entered the ring, there has never been anyone to dispute, but that he would be able to go in and set a fast and furious clip for eight rounds and finish fresh and strong was more than the most hopeful expected.

One of the sporting men who saw this fight said: "Griffo certainly boxed beautifully, as only Griffo can box. His hitting was clean and hard, as Bain can testify to, and if Bain had not tin-canned, but stood up and exchanged blows, he would have been knocked out. I consider Griffo the greatest boxer in the world, and predict, if he works faithfully a couple of months, that the lightweight champions had better look to their laurels.

As Good as the Best.

Referee Lynch said: "I have refereed all the matches that have taken place in Peoria, and I have attended almost all of the big fights and I unhesitatingly say that I consider Griffo the greatest boxer I ever saw: He is the personification of cleverness and aggressiveness, and I think he has a chance with any man of his weight in the world."

Young Griffo's real name is Albert Griffiths. He is thirty- two years old. He fought draws with , Solly Smith, George Lavigne and many other crack fighters, when these men were at their best. He lost to Jack McAuliffe in a bout in which the great majority thought he had clearly the best of it.

Griffo has been in insane asylums on numerous occasions, driven insane by dissipation." He has been picked out of the gutters, has "hoboed" his way, endured privation and has been given up as a "goner" on numerous occasions. Yet here he is, back again. Griffo says he has "cut out the cup that cheers." He probably has made this promise a hundred times, so there is no likelihood that he will adhere to it this time. Yet if he does, the little fellow may yet smooth his path.

The San Antonio Light 18 July 1926

Fights I Can’t Forget

By Tad

America’s Greatest Boxing Authority When Young Griffo Fought Sweeney In a Bar Room

Name: Patsy Sweeney Career Record: click Nationality: Irish Birthplace: Galway Hometown: Manchester, New Hampshire, USA Born: 1879-03-03 Height: 5′ 7½″

Young Griffo won on a foul in the fourteenth round from Patsy Sweeney, March 6, 1905, in a private fight held in a “hide away” in a busy section of Harlem.

It was a ripping fight from start to finish, both taking an awful grueling, and when the unexpected happened every sport in the little room was breaking his neck looking for a .

It was 3 o’clock in the afternoon when the boys shook hands and started the ball rolling, but it was a hours wait before things were shaped and ready. At 2 o’clock the little hall, or rather room, was pretty filled with sports and business men from the section, and we waited and waited.

Some thought the delay might cause the cops to get Jerry, but for a change not one had a peek.

There was a lookout on the door to the main street where the fight was held, and he only arose once while a cop was beating it down the line. The sports came in one by one, and as there was only about one hundred there the crowd did not gather in bunches, nor act suspiciously. We came through the saloon door, passed the billiard tables in the back room and then walked down the little hall to the arena.

Such an arena as it was too. In one corner was a stove going full blast, in another was a disabled pool table with chairs, boxes and other refuse piled up.

The managers of the fighters were in another corner putting up there side bets with the stake holder, and the fighters were behind them putting on their tights and spreading resin on the floor.

When all was ready it was discovered that the manager had forgotten the gloves so one of the seconds was sent out with a bucket to get them. He returned after a wait of about ten minutes with a paper covering the gloves in a bucket, and then all the boys took there places, drew a long breath and quieted down as the referee yelled “Let her Go”.

They started to fight from the moment time was called, and it was one long, long clinch until time was called again. Sweeney stayed in close shooting his right over on Griffo’s kidneys with great effect, in return stopping left jolts to the face without wincing.

From the first to the fourteenth this style of battle prevailed and it was the roughest hardest 'and fastest go seen in private in this city for many a day. Griffo, who was the cleverer of the pair, stuck in with Patsey in this' manner for seven rounds, until the lump over his kidneys began to bother him.

He was weakening under the pummeling, and thought it better to pull away and fight at long range after that. He did, and it looked as though Mr. Sweeney, of Manchester, might flop 'at any moment. Griffo would get in close , slug awhile and then pull away suddenly, letting out with left and right flush to his opponents jaw. Sweeney bounced around like a rubber ball but came in just as gamely as ever.

In the eighth round Griffo staggered Sweeney, cutting his ear and almost dropping him to the floor. It was a bad time for Patsey but he managed to stick it out and come through, strong at the finish. Griffo butted Patsey in the clinches, and Sweeney complained to the referee, but the latter cautioned Griffo and let it go.

From the eighth to the eleventh Griffo staggered Patsey quite regularly, keeping away from the heavy body punching as well as he could and making it a long range fight. Sweeney could not get in on the clever Griffo, but followed, him around gamely trying to fight in close. At the finish of this round there, was a hot mix and both fell on the hot stove, knocking it over and spreading the coals over the floor. There was a rush to put the fire out and then the gong rang.

Both were getting weak and tired from the pace, and the fight was one of those bing bang affairs with both grunting an puffing with every blow. Sweeney seemed very weary on the pins, but standing like a tiger slammed Griffo in the same kidney, making him wince with every punch.

The fight along like this well into the fourteenth round when suddenly Griffo dropped to the floor claiming foul. His seconds jumped up too and yelled like mad. On the other hand there were many who could claim that Sweeney’s blows barely glanced off Griffo, and did not bother him at all.

After yelling and hollering for fully five minutes the crowd settled down and then the referee declared Griffo had won. Sweeney’s backers demanded that a doctor examine Griffo, and after a wait of half an hour there was no sign of a foul blow been delivered. He said however that one might have been struck, but at that time no signs were in evidence.

Nebraska State Journal 28August 1928

It Made Them Mad

Unpopular Decision In the McAuliffe – Griffo Mill

American lightweight given the Fight Though Beaten On points

Hot Slugging From Start

SEASIDE ATHLETIC CLUB, CONEY ISLAND, N. Y., AUG. 27

Seldom has a limited round contest attracted such a widespread interest as that of tonight at the Seaside athletic club between Jack McAuliffe and Alfred Griffiths, better known as "Young Griffo," the former the lightweight champion of America and the latter the featherweight champion of Australia. Both men are far beyond the weight limit of their respective classes, but this cut no figure tonight, as the men fought at catch weights and the contest was decided on its merits.

The sporting fraternity turned out in a most liberal manner. In addition to the star event of the night the rest of the program was very entertaining. The arena and the building was comfortably filled an hour before the time set for the mill to commence.

The most prominent sporting men in the city and vicinity occupied seats in the private boxes surrounding the stage. The racetrack men were there in full force, as McAuliffe is a great favorite with them. The first of the minor boxing contests of the evening was between Connie Sullivan of New York and John Madden of Brooklyn. It was a six round bout at 105 pounds, all of which were in favor of Madden and he was declared the winner.

There was a slight stir when Al O'Brien of Philadelphia and Charles Burns of Cincinnati came upon the stage to prepare for the second bout of the evening. During the first three rounds the men fought like bulldogs. Burns did not make the least attempt at science. In the fourth round Burns knocked O'Brien down, but was rushed to the ropes and badly punished by the Philadelphian.Burns fell to the floor just as the bell rang and was carried to his corner by his seconds They worked vigorously to revive him, but he was practically knocked out and his seconds throw up the sponge.

The Event of the Night.

A short space of time elapsed between the ending of the O'Brien-Burns contest and the commencement of the star event of the evening between Jack McAuliffe and Young Griffo. McAuliffe came upon the stage at 10:15 and was greeted with a storm of applause. His training story was borne out by his seconds having a bottle of champagne in his corner. McAuliffe when stripped looked fully twenty pounds the heavier man. Griffo was only a minute behind McAuliffe in entering the ring. Round one — Both men appeared in the ring with nothing on but blue trunks. McAuliffe led off and planted his left on Griffo's face. Griffo retaliated, smashing Jack on the jaw. Mac led and was cleverly stopped and Griffo swung his right on Jack's wind. Griffo won the applause of the house by his clever ducking and countering. Jack led and landed a wicked left on Griffo's wind and got a smash on the jaw in return for it, the vast crowd yelling, when the gong sounded.

Round two — McAuliffe led with the left, but the blow was cleverly ducked. McAuliffe rushed and landed a hard right-hander on the body and got a stiff left on the neck. Griffo was much more clever than McAuliffe had expected to find him and his blows were returned with equally good effect. Jack did the bulk of the leading, but Griffo would counter on him every time and honors were pretty evenly divided. In fact, it was seen that McAuliffe had met his equal in every respect, if not his superior.

Round third — Griffo landed a terrific left on Jack's right eye and closed it as tight as a drum. Jack did not seem to be able to find Griffo's head, at which he was continually making play, Griffo, on the contrary, landed when and where he pleased. He hammered with right and left and soon had McAuliffe's nose bleeding. Every time Jack led he was met by Griffo and he appeared as though he wished it was all over. The round ended in Griffo's favor.

Fourth round — McAuliffe led, but fell short and landed on Griffo's arm. The Australian forced the fighting and landed two left-handed blows in rapid succession on McAuliffe's face, sending him over against the ropes, which he was obliged to grasp to keep from falling.

Round five — Jack led with his left, but Griffo ducked and swung an ugly uppercut on Jack's jaw. They clinched and in a rally he landed right and left on Jack's jaw in rapid succession.

Round six — McAuliffe rushed Griffo and landed his left, with but little effect. Griffo drove his right into McAuliffe's ribs with telling effect and smashed him on the mouth with the left. Once McAuliffe tried his rushing tactics, but the blows he delivered seemed to have but little or no effect.

Seventh round — Griffo feinted and landed his left on Jack's wind and a moment later landed right and left on Jack's face. Jack rushed and was met by a straight left from Griffo. Griffo smashed Jack on the jaw several times and it looked like all day for him.

Round eight - McAuliffe tried to rally in this round, but he was farming his face out as a punching bag for the Australian. There was scarcely a mark on Griffo, while Jack looked decidedly the worse for wear.

Round nine — The round opened with a rush. Jack sent a corking hot one on Griffo's jaw. It was hammer and tongs all over the ring. Griffo began to hug to avoid punishment. Jack- made play for his wind .but he had waited too long, he appeared to have gained some of his old time form and went at Griffo savagely.

Round ten — The crowd began to leave the building before this began. McAuliffe opened hostilities by planting his right on Griffo's stomach. The fighting in this round was of the fiercest nature, but desperate an McAuliffe was he could not regain his lost laurels. Pandemonium reigned when the announcement was made that the referee had decided McAulitfe the winner. They hissed and groaned until the building fairly trembled and all hands yelled "Griffo." When McAuliffe left the stage they hissed and groaned at him all the way back to his dressing room and yelled "Robber, robber." It was unquestionably the most barefaced decision that has ever been given at a boxing contest in this vicinity.

The entire assemblage was highly indignant, and the police had to come to the front and clear the room. Griffo made a speech from the stage and said he would fight McAuliffe to a finish at any time he desired to fight. The crowd hung around the outside of the building yelling "Griffo."

It was his fight beyond a doubt.

San Antonio Daily Light 4 June 1900

A DEGENERATE YOUNG GRIFFO GONE BEYOND

HOPE OF REDEMPTION.

Dawson Labored All in Vain For Him.

He Threw Away Ten Thousand Dollars by Taking One Drink of Sherry

Not Long Since. . .

"What do you think of a glass of Sherry that cost $10,000 ?' said George Dawson one day recently, says the N.Y. Telegraph. "Not a cask or a barrel, But just one little glass—an ordinary drink, such as-a man would take over a bar. Well, I know an incident of that kind. Strange as it may seem, there is a young man in Chicago today who not more than a mouth ago paid $10,000 for cue glass of sherry wine. It was young Griffo. Of course, he didn't pass the money over in one bunch when he took the drink, but he might as well have done so, for he is out of pocket fully that much that I know of, and thousands of dollars besides. but it isn't a long story and

I'll let my friend Whitbeck tell it." John is the manager of George Williams' restaurant and a personal friend of Dawson's. When he was asked for the story he said:

"I think Dawson rather underestimates the amount that .Griffo paid for that one glass of sherry, but, then, Dawson is conservative, and likes to he on the safe side, even, when talking about prize fighers. It was like this: When Griffo came to life the second time and demonstrated by his bouts at the Chicago Athletic association that he was still a premier in his class, Dawson, who had his business interests in charge, was deluged with offers of matches for him. Not hard fights, but easy exhibitions with a sparring partner, and guaranteed purses ranging from $300 to $1,000. Every athletic club of note in the country wanted him.

"The peculiar conditions under which Griffo entered the ring made a big advertisement for him, and letters and telegrams poured in from all parts of the country. Right after his appearance with Young Kenny at Tattersall's engagements had been booked for the time up to the end of April which would have netted him $10,000, and there was a chance for a lot of profitable dates between them. Then some fool friend of Griffo's insisted on his taking a glass of sherry, and it was all off.

"All the sporting fraternity knows how he went to pieces, and how Dawson, in disgust, had to cancel all the $10,000 worth of engagements. No pugilist, aside from a heavyweight champion, ever had such an opportunity to reap such a golden harvest.

These $10,000 engagements were only a beginning. If he had kept sober, Griffo would have virtually coined money for two or three years to come. "But, to my friend, the most interesting part of the Griffo story is that relating to the experience of Dawson in trying to give him a new lease of life. It has been widely stated that Fitzsimmons was the man who induced Dawson to take Griffo out of the asylum at Dunning and give him a trial. This is not true. Fitzsimmons had nothing to do with it. Sometime last fall a veterinary surgeon — a man of high standing in his country came here from Australia on a visit .He is a devotee of the pugilistic art, and knew Dawson, Fitzsimmons and Griffo in the antipodes.

"Naturally he hunted up Dawson and renewed their acquaintance. In talking over old times he inquired for Griffo, and when told that he was hopelessly insane and in an asylum, he asked Dawson lo go with him and see the famous boxer. They went to Dunning and talked with Griffo, both of them coming away with the strong belief that Griffo was not so badly of as the doctors said. Later Dawson made another trip to Dunning, when Griffo, who appeared rational and in sound mind, said:

" For Heaven's sake get me out of here. I'm not crazy, but I will be if I'm kept here with this mob of lunatics much longer.”

Dawson was impressed with Griffo's statement, and having a warm spot in his heart for the boy, made arrangements to take him out .To secure his release a bond of $3,000 to indemnify the county for any damages the alleged crazy man might do while at liberty was demanded. Dawson and a friend of his, a business man with whom Dawson boards, signed the bond and Griffo was discharged. At that time George Connors was training the Carlisle Indian team at Carlisle, Pa., and Griffo was sent there to get in shape. The managers of the team became dissatisfied because Connors gave so much time to Griffo, and released him out of a $1,200 position. This was the beginning count of a list of troubles. Connors came back to Chicago, bringing Griffo with him. 'It will never do to turn him loose here in Chicago,' said Dawson. 'What the boy wants is the kindly restraint and influence of a home. He's been a waif all his life, and perhaps a home will have a good effect on him.

"So Griffo, the Dunning outcast, was taken into the private circle of the business man's home, and coddled and petted and cared for by the family. Why, that man's wife — a woman of social standing — even took Griffo to the theatre with her. It was distasteful to her, but she thought itmight make him understand that he had friends if he would behave himself.

Everything went well for a time. He got two or three profitable engagements through Dawson's influence, and had several hundred dollars to his credit. Not a dollar was taken out of his earnings except for actual expenses. Dawson and his business friend were encouraged, and began to think that they had really reformed the Australian pugilist.

"But suddenly they were rudely undeceived. One day, just after a profitable engagement had been made for Griffo's second, appearance at Tattersalls he turned up missing. The levee was hunted over but no trace of him could be found. Late that night hackman who know where Dawson lived drove up to the house with the information that Griffo was making a ruction in a south side saloon. It was then after midnight, but Dawson and his friend dressed, went to the extreme south side and found the fighter in a wild stale of intoxication.

He objected to going home and they had to make him by force. At the house they had to remove his clothes by main force, and even then he refused to got to bed, declaring he would go down town in his night gown. Finally, in despair Dawson and his friend gave him back his clothes and told him to get out of the house and keep out.

"The next morning Griffo was heard from at the Harrison street station, abjectly contrite. Dawson was appealed to take him out, but said it would be no good. It seems, however, that the clever showing made in the ring by the Australian had pleased a number of the older members of the C. A. 'A. and these men requested as A personal favor that Dawson make one more trial to reform the outcast.George Dawson was never known to stand out very long against any charitable movement so, persuaded against his will, he went to Harrison street and secured Griffo's release. It was then he heard the story of that fatal l glass of sherry.

"'Blime me bloody heyes “ said Griffo “Hime a bloody, bloomin fool. Gawge, and if you'll take me out this time I'll never touch another bloody drop.”

"George took him out and inside of a week he was out on a debauch again. It would take a page to tell all the tricks he played on Dawson and the latter's friend, at whose house he had been sheltered. One day, for instance, he went down early in the morning and drew $23. Two hours later he showed up decidedly drunk and minus his overcoat. An effort was made to induce him to go home and sober up, when he surprised his backers with a request for car fare. He had spent every cent of the $25 in two hours and pawned his overcoat beside.

"I never put in such a time in my Life said Dawson, “and I do not want any more of it.”

"When it was decided that Griffo was beyond redemption, and that it was idle to waste time on him, Dawson had $400 to his credit. What to do with his money was a conundrum. To give it to Griffo was like throwing it in a sewer. At the same time neither Dawson nor his friend wanted lo keep It. They had not taken a cent from him for their work in his behalf, and didn't want any pay. But there was George Connors, who had lost $1,200 position through trying to train the degenerate fighter. 'Whose more entitled to the money than Connors?' queried Dawson. “Nobody on earth," said his friends, and the $400 was turned over to Connors.

"Griffo is a degenerate of the worst type. It is absolutely impossible to keep him in a respectable condition. Given $500 tonight he will be broke tomorrow, and no inducement, not even the guarantee of $10,000 for twenty minutes work with the gloves would make him forego a drinking bout with the lowest of levee characters. I wouldn't go through what George Dawson has for all the money a sober Griffo could earn, and that's a big pile.

"One of the most pathetic incidents in Griffo's career was the receipt of a letter, when he was too drunk to appreciate its worth, from Johnson, of Sydney, New South Wales, the man who taught the fighter how to spar. This letter was written just after the reformation had reached Australia, and no words from a. mother to her son could have been more loving or solicitous. Johnson, in homely, but burning language, besought Griffo to tread the straight and narrow path, told him how all his old time friends were rejoicing over the good news concerning him and admonished him to remain under the guardianship of George Dawson, who was his 'best and truest friend.' " Bronx: Young Griffo, boxing’s forgotten genius

By Mike Casey

The story goes that when Young Griffo was in the premature autumn of his incredible life and ever more dependent on his famous love of alcohol, he would keep himself in drinks by spreading a handkerchief on the floor of his local saloon, placing a foot on one corner, and challenging any man in the bar to punch him off it.

History doesn’t record how many takers Griffo had, but such were his God-given skills and reflexes, it is probably safe to assume that he finished ahead of the house.

Who was Young Griffo? The question shouldn’t need to be asked of hardcore boxing buffs. But as the years rush past, so it becomes vital to explain and justify the merits of boxing’s bygone aces to a new and eager audience, be they genuine fans or dilettantes just passing through.

Griffo seemed to drop straight out of some fistic heaven, and perhaps the gods were balancing the scales when they took him back at the age of fifty-six. Boxing came as naturally to him as it did to , Packey McFarland, Willie Pep and Pernell Whitaker, yet Griffo was fatally flawed, his thirst for alcohol being both insatiable and incurable.

The irony of his addiction is that it magnified his ring achievements, since he was frequently in some state of drunkenness when fighting and beating some of the greatest lightweights and of his generation. The demon drink may have shortened Griffo’s life, but it failed to short-circuit his astonishing boxing brain.

This point cannot be sufficiently stressed and is certainly not exaggerated. , founder and editor of The Ring magazine, once wrote of Griffo: “He never was one to take his professional career seriously. Training was a nuisance to him and he preferred hanging around bar-rooms and guzzling his liquour. Seldom indeed was Griffo sober for a fight, yet so amazingly clever was he that regardless of his physical and mental condition at the moment, he invariably held his own or could and did whip his opponent.”

In March 1894, Griffo failed to show for a bout with Ike ‘Spider’ Weir in Chicago. The maestro was found that afternoon, drunk as a skunk, in a local dive bar. The police officers who hunted him down hauled him off to a Turkish bath to sober him up. Refreshed and ready to go again, Griffo gave Weir an educated thrashing and knocked him out in the third round.

Conversation

If it were possible to bypass séance rooms and just have a good old-fashioned conversation with those who have passed on, then perhaps George Dixon, the legendary Little Chocolate, could be persuaded to verify Fleischer’s assessment of Griffo. Dixon, no slouch himself for ring cleverness, was driven to exasperation and a state of near exhaustion by trying to land a significant blow on Griffo in their memorable contests at the Seaside Athletic Club at Coney Island in January, 1895.

Rolling, feinting, blocking and just being a general evasive nuisance, Griffo peppered Dixon as he pleased throughout the twenty-five round battle, which was recorded as a draw in the era when the knockout was paramount.

However, two crucial aspects of Griffo’s make-up were evident in the fight, two weaknesses that prevented him from crossing the final threshold and becoming the master of his generation.

First, he couldn’t hit with any commanding power. Secondly, and more significantly he was a cavalier spirit for whom glory ran a distant second to having fun. Much like Max Baer in later years, Griffo wasn’t driven to stamp his name on history or obsessed with how he would be perceived. Knowing he was the best on his day seemed enough for him.

Carefree and unpredictable from the start of his crowded and colourful life, it is doubtful whether he ever had a definitive game plan for anything he did. As a young fighter, his first attempt to leave his native Australia was typically impulsive in its outcome. Having made up his mind to test his skills in the competitive furnace of America, Griffo set sail with a group of other young Australian fighters in 1892. The young maestro was on his way. Then he wasn’t. A sudden change of mind prompted him to dive overboard and swim back to the shore. It was 1893 before he set sail again and stayed on the ship for keeps.

Chinks

For all the mental chinks in his armour, for all the drinking that took its slow toll on his bullish body, Griffo would lose just nine times in his 232 recorded fights, and we will never know how many of those losses were on the level. The mind boggles at what he could have achieved if he had been blessed with the mental toughness and the total commitment of a Julio Cesar Chavez or a Marco Antonio Barrera.

There was much that was mysterious and contradictory about Griffo. Even his physique was against type. Thick set, big shouldered and almost paunchy at times, he was as much a physical deception as Argentina’s recently departed boxing master, Nicolino Locche.

The record books tell us that Griffo was born on March 31, 1871, yet his gravestone in New York’s Bronx has his birth date as 1880. Even the great man’s death was prematurely reported, although it is now fairly certain that he died in 1927.

His real name was Albert Griffiths, and his boxing career began as a bare knuckle fighter in his native Sydney, where he would test his ability against the local toughs on the waterfront.

Griffo made rapid progress and his great natural talent quickly became evident. He won the Australian featherweight title in 1889 with a points decision over Nipper Peakes at the Apollo Athletic Hall in Melbourne, and followed up with a fifteenth round stoppage of Torpedo Billy Murphy at the Sydney Gymnastic Club to gain recognition in Australia and Britain as the world featherweight champion.

Griffo had whipped a top man in the dangerous Murphy, a big-hitting New Zealander who is credited with 78 in his 91 wins.

Griffo won their return match on a disqualification and also notched successful defences against George Powell and Mick McCarthy.

On his belated arrival in America, Griffo outpointed Young Scotty in Chicago and then went hunting for bigger game. In two drawn fights with George Lavigne, the great Saginaw Kid, Griffo went through his amazing box of tricks to make The Kid look almost inept.

Jack McAuliffe, the great lightweight legend, didn’t fare much better against Griffo’s silky skills when the two men clashed at the Seaside Athletic Club in 1894. Fortunately for Jack, referee Maxie Moore was a good pal and awarded him the decision.

Such shenanigans were not uncommon in less stringent times, and the lightweight division certainly had its share. Probably the most famous example of blatant favouritism was that perpetuated by referee Jack Welch on behalf of his friend Ad Wolgast, in Ad’s title defence against Mexican Joe Rivers at Vernon, California, on July 4, 1912. When Wolgast and Rivers floored each other simultaneously in the thirteenth round, Welch promptly lifted Ad to his feet while he counted Rivers out.

If injustice ever ruffled Griffo, then most likely he would drink copiously at the nearest bar and belt out any man who crossed his path. Too much of the hard stuff certainly changed his normally genial and easy going nature.

Nor did Griffo regard alcohol as being out of bounds within the roped square. Stories abound, though few can be verified, of the maestro entering the ring worse for wear and having to be slapped into life by his seconds. They needn’t have worried, for it was impossible for Griffo to look bad once he started boxing.

However, there was one man whom Griffo couldn’t master: the Old Master himself, Joe Gans. These titans of the lightweight division fought two official draws, the first in Baltimore, the second in Athens, Pennsylvania, before Joe stopped Griffo in their eighth round of their final meeting in Brooklyn in 1900.

Information is sadly scant on how these fights panned out, but perhaps the most significant pointer is that there are no stories of Griffo embarrassing the great Gans.

Wiped out

In 1904, what was left of Griffo as an effective fighter was wiped out in one round by Tommy White in Chicago. The Australian legend’s subsequent life was a jumbled mystery, as fickle fans and writers quickly lost track of him. He remained in America, and every once in a while stories would circulate about his drunkenness, his arrests by the police and even the odd trip to the insane asylum.

How did Young Griffo die? I don’t know, though I would imagine that it was his beloved booze that finally did him in. It is sad indeed that the trail runs cold on so many of the old- time fighters, and that the technology of their times was either too primitive or too limited to cover their great battles and exploits.

In Griffo’s case, we can only hope that a rare treat is yet to come. In 1895, he knocked out Battling Charles Barnett in four rounds in New York in what might well have been an historical first for the motion picture industry. A short black and white film was made of the fight, directed by Otway Latham, which was believed by the 1920s’ film historian, Terry Ramsaye, to be the first film to be publicly projected onto a screen.

The survival status of the film is unknown, but it could just be that Young Griffo lives on, blinding his opponent with science and taking the odd shot of something between rounds!