Ad Wolgast and the Incomparable Joe Gans Constitute a Glorious Chapter in Ring History. but the Stories of Thosefor Sheer Courag
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Name: Battling Nelson Career Record: click Alias: The Durable Dane Birth Name: Oscar Mattheus Nielsen Nationality: Danish Birthplace: Copenhagen, Denmark Born: 1882-06-05 Died: 1954-02-07 Age at Death: 71 Height: 5' 7? Reach: 67? Managers: Billy Nolan, Willus Britt Ad Wolgast and the incomparable Joe Gans constitute a glorious chapter in ring history. But the stories of thoseFor sheer courage and stamina, Battling Nelson stood in a class all by himself. His classic battles with Jimmy Britt, Nelson fights have been told time and again. Here, for the first time, is an intimate, heartwarming account of the fascinating, little-known incidents in the life of this fabulous old champion. MUMBLING INCOHERENTLY, the shriveled little man shuffled into the charity ward of Chicago State Hospital. The doctors looked at him with a mixture of pity and awe. His eyes were blank and his once muscular 133-pound frame had wasted away to a mere 80 pounds. A brash young attendant said callously: "Huh! Another derelict. We're sure getting a lot of them these days." An elderly attendant shot him a cold look. "Do you know who that 'derelict' is?" he snapped angrily. "That 'derelict' is Battling Nelson, one of the greatest fighters who ever lived." Old Bat, who had licked immortals like Aurelio Herrera, Young Corbett, Jimmy Britt, Terry McGovern and the incomparable Joe Gans, was 71 years old when he was ruled insane and committed in January of 1954. The psychiatrists' diagnosis had been chillingly brief: "Incurable senile dementia." Nobody will ever know what went on in Nelson's tortured mind as he dribbled away his last days amid alien surroundings. Occasionally a flicker of interest would light up his lustreless eyes and he would try to talk. But the words trickled out in a jumble of meaningless phrases. Those familiar with the ex-champion's spectacular career could pick out place names here and there and link them with some of the famous battles that had earned him riches beyond his dreams. Names like Colma... Goldfield... Point Richmond... But what could they make of such mystifying phrases as electric lights... cracks in the floor... sheets of snow... my seven dollar suit...? It was hard to make any sense of this babbling because Nelson, in his wild hallucinations, was conjuring up the broken images of a past less concerned with his great triumphs than with the vivid fragments of memory that often overshadow the important events in a man's life. One such fragment came glimmering out of Fond du Lac, Wis., early in his career: a strange bout with a crude battler named Young Scotty. Strange because everytime Nelson floored Scotty the electric lights would go out! The Bat was puzzled. Scotty's head had been slamming the floor with a jarring crunch. Was it possible, Nelson wondered, that the impacts were in some way disrupting the makeshift wiring? After six knockdowns - and six blackouts - it suddenly dawned on the Battler that he was being hoodwinked. By that time, however, Young Scotty had managed to last the eight-round route, robbing Bat of a well-deserved kayo victory. Battling Nelson was always ready 'to fight anybody, even if it was for only a ham sandwich' Nelson never forgot the incident Another that stuck in his mind involved two bouts with rugged Harry Fails two years earlier, in May of 1901. Nelson, only 18 at the time, had fought 25 bouts - some of them for as little as a $2.50 purse. This was peanuts even in those days, but comparatively good money to a boy who had made only 15 cents a day as an ice cutter in his home town of Hegewisch, Ill. Both Nelson and Fails were dissatisfied with their showing in the first bout, a six-round No Decision contest held in Omro, Wis. Eager to settle matters, they quickly agreed to a rematch, for which the promoter promised to sweeten the purse (Bat had gotten $5 for the first fight). They ran into their first trouble when the local sheriff threatened to arrest them. "Hey," one fan yelled after much futile planning, "how about going over to Rhinelander?" Rhinelander was just across the county line. On the morning of May 18, they set out for the new battle site. It was bitter cold and snowing hard. The fighters were offered a ride but chose to walk instead. As they slogged along, Nelson was worried. Not about the storm nor the bout. He had visions of some trigger-happy constable springing out of nowhere and hauling him off to jail. But even this dread possibility didn't faze him as much as the fact that the snow was ruining his $7 suit. Poor Bat loved that suit even more than the green trunks ("my lucky color") which he had bought for his third bout. The suit was part of a "swell-looking outfit" that included a $1 derby, a $1.50 pair of knickers "and the prettiest green necktie you ever saw in your life." Bat almost cried when he plucked at his sodden suit after stamping into the freezing old goat barn selected for the 10-round fight. The sports quickly chose the referee - a tall, lanky fellow. "How come they picked him?" Nelson asked. "Him?" someone replied. "'Cause his daddy owns this here barn." At the end of ten brutal rounds, both fighters were still fresh and raring to go. But the referee refused to let them continue and, hoisting their right hands, declared it a draw. If Nelson was apprehensive about money (there was no purse), he needn't have been. The sports were so satisfied with the action that they showered $300 in coin all over the wooden floor. There was a wild scramble as Nelson and Fails raced around picking up the money. Some of the coins had rolled into large cracks in the boards The boys made sure they didn't miss any by prying up the planks with a crowbar. Nelson felt like a millionaire with his half of the take - the largest he had ever received When he got back to town, he headed straight for a fancy clothing store. He stacked $12.50 in coins on the counter and told the clerk with a big grin, "Gimmie the best suit in the house!" Bat could be as big a sport as the next guy! But he never forgot his folks. A hefty portion of his winnings always went to his mother, Mary. Nelson's top purse was the $23,000 he received for his first title fight with the great Joe Gans. It was a gruelling match. But then, so was the one with Joe Hedmark in September of 1900. He got only $15 for that battle, his eleventh, yet considered it "one of my hardest." Nelson managed to score five knockdowns during the blazing six rounds. But Hedmark in turn floored him 17 times. "I was licked thoroughly, fairly and squarely," said Bat. It was one of the few times he ever admitted defeat. Though McGovern (left) was at the end of the line, Bat still thought him dangerous and tried to trick him He always insisted: "I have lost several fights, but I have never been beaten. Sounds rather paradoxical, doesn't it? But it's true. The reason for my 'defeats' is that I am not a 'short distance' or 'parlor' boxer. I believe that all fights should be fought to a finish to determine which is the better man..." Of course, Nelson said this before he lost his crown to Ad Wolgast, the "Michigan Wildcat," in one of the most savage contests in ring history. But even then he refused to quit. Though Nelson denied he had ever been beaten, there was one fellow "I never could lick," Mickey Riley, a clever boxer from Wisconsin. Bat had a lot of respect for Riley. Though they met four times, the Durable Dane, as Bat was called, never got the satisfaction of beating him "and clearing up my old record." Nelson remembered the first Riley bout with particular vividness because of the silver dollar incident. The bout was held in Milwaukee on April 19, 1901. Milwaukee was a Jinx town to Bat and he often referred to it as "Hoodooville" or "Jonahville." After he lost a decision to the slippery Riley, Nelson's rooters hooted the decision and called on him to make a speech. Bat paled. He had always been "ready and willing to fight anybody, even if it was for only a ham sandwich." But the very thought of making a speech terrified him. Finally, besieged by his supporters, he began, "Gentle..." That was as far as he got. A silver dollar came spinning through the air and landed right in his mouth. He almost swallowed it. Bat chuckled whenever he recalled that incident. President Teddy Roosevelt, he liked to say, earned a dollar a word writing magazine articles about lion hunting. But he, a poor Danish boy from Copenhagen, had bested Roosevelt's record by getting $1 for just half a word! The Riley bout made a businessman out of Nelson. Fighters of that era frequently passed the hat around to scrape up a living. But more often, the fans would show their appreciation, if any, by tossing coins into the "ring." Many of these coins rolled into cracks or were filched by stickyfingered camp followers. So when the spectators started raining money into the roped area, Nelson quickly whispered to his seconds "I'll give you fellows 10 percent of all you find." Scrambling around, the seconds scooped up $109.23 from coppers to silver dollars, of which Bat pocketed $98.31, plus the $35 purse he got from the club.