1 TheBoxing Biographies Newsletter Volume3 - No1 10th July , 2008 www.boxingbiographies.com If you wish to receive future newsletters ( which includes the images ) please email the message “NEWS LETTER” [email protected] The newsletter is also available as a word doc on request As always the full versions of these articles are on the website Welcome to this special edition to celebrate Our 1st anniversary We officially launched the site on 4th July 2007 and the response from day one was quite staggering when we stood back and watched the visitor hits grow and grow. The introduction of a newsletter to go with the web site has proved to be a great success and the number of subscribers continues to rise, and the number of research related enquiries. None of this would have been possible had my good pal Grim , the owner of the wbf , not provided his expertise and resources to host the site. The mistakes on some of the layouts I hasten to add are all down to me – I will fix them. As far as the future goes with regards to the site it is to be quite honest a case of maintaining the level of new material introduced . I can think of no better way to celebrate the success than to share with you some of the stories about my dad – absolutely no bias in this choice then is there eh - 2 Name: Fred Snell Career Record: click Alias: Frederick John (Jack) Snell Birth Name: Frederick John Snell Nationality: British Birthplace: Birkenhead, England Hometown: Toronto, ON - Birkenhead Born: 1901-06-14 Died: 1996-03-01 Age at Death: 94 Stance: Orthodox Height: 5′ 8″ Division: Light Heavyweight Manager: Jack Jarvis Also fought as Jack Snell. He spent some two years in Canada (1924-26). Reportedly he had some 20 fights, including opponents such as Red Meech, Johnny Klesh, and Johnny Paske. Life Fred Snell was born in Birkenhead, Wirral, Uk and started boxing at the age of 16 and was a great lover of the outdoor life and spent much of his spare time at the Leasowe camping site a few miles from where he lived. By 1924 he had taken part in at least 100 fights but only some details of these are available at this time. He had completed his apprenticeship at the local shipyard as a boilermaker and had the urge to travel. He worked his passage to Canada in 1924 as a steward and settled at first in Toronto. One of his fights was with Chief Halftown which degenerated into something worthy of a music hall farce. Fred ( my Dad) was unaware that the local gangsters had there money on Halftown . Fred knocked him clean out of the ring only to find a mad dash of men in suits throw him back in. Fred lost the fight on an alleged foul as it was the only way Halftown could win. The night before this fight was also quite memorable and he wondered later if this was just a chance event. Sitting in his hotel room trying to relax when two men broke into the room and pointed a gun at him. Much to their surprise Fred's response was to say "How dare you point a gun at me I'am an Englishman f..k off" . They then asked him where some other guy was and got the same reply. They then left saying they would try upstairs where the sound of a party could be heard going on. Fred never found out what happened at the party. ( This is the only time I ever heard Dad swear ) In Oct of 1924 Fred had managed to save enough to pay for his future wife Peggy to join him from England. The day she arrived was not the best of timing as he had a fight that same day with Johnny Paske, which he won on points. When asked about whether she was non to pleased about this he simply said "she was a bit put out" " but seeing me win seemed to settle things". They married some 2 weeks later. 3 Stories about Leasowe camping site " TED COMES OUT TO STAY." I have to inform all and sundry both Mr.and Mrs, that Ted Fairbrother has commenced camping out. It has been a keen struggle against great odds to losing ones individuality among the flotsam and jetsam of the camping fraternity, but those people who observed Ted with a frying pan in one hand and a yard of bacon know that at long last he is one of us. He will be initiated into the brotherhood at the earliest opportunity, but under the loving caro ( care) of Fred Snell, himself a past master in the art of camping. Ted should obtain rapid promotion until he reaches that exalted stage only occupied by men who can fry an egg without inflicting a compound fracture on the yoke. "Hail brother, and how's yer rabbits? Published by -Birkenhead News Date pre 1924 JOTTINGS FROM THE "PIVI" (By "Mirk.") A very happy evening was spent at the "Pivi" on Wednesday on the occasion of the final of the fox-trot competition. Mr and Mrs Dutton, N.A.T.D., and B.M.U., were judges and one feels that the management of the "Pivi" are to be complemented on securing experts with such a comprehensive knowledge of the finer art of dancing. Twenty couples took to the floor to pass the keen eyes of the judges, and when Mr Dutton gave the decision it certainly was popular. The winners were; 1. Mr J. Tomlinson (dancing shoes) and Miss A.Ward (dancing shoes); 2, Mr F. Snell (wallet) and Miss P.Barnfather (handbag); Mr. W .Owens (gloves) and Miss Thornton (gloves). The winner will receive their awards this (Saturday) evening, when I am sure that they will give us an exhibition of the art of dancing. The only unpleasant feature of the programme on Wednesday evening was a presentation of a pocket wallet to Mr F.Snell on the occasion of his departure to Canada. I don't think Fred will go entirely out of our lives, for having known him for many years as a camper we know he wouldn't dare to leave that writing pad unused. I am sure we wish him good-luck, and when he has made that fortune he is going to seek he will come and look up his old pals in Moreton and perhaps give back the butter he borrowed from Len. Published by Birkenhead News Date pre 1924 TAKE NOTE Well, I have said enough for to day, so will hang fire with any further notes. Remember; please keep me posted with all the news of the camp. If you cannot find me at the Press Tent on the common write to CAMPER "Advertiser" Office, Birkenhead. 4 Our Lady Barber Fred Snell writes to thank me for kindly referring to his assistant cook last week. However, I am sorry that as last week's issue was being published, Ted Fairbrother was at home with sickness in the family, and I can only hope that by now the sickness has gone and that all is merry and bright in the Fairbrother household. This wish will be re-echoed by campers generally. It may not be known that Fred Snell has started a hair-dressing establishment presided over by his good lady, who can use the scissors splendidly. A basin gives the cut line and a carpet brush completes the stock-in-trade. There is no truth in the rumour of Fred's bandages indicate his first encounter with the lady barber, who is alleged to knock patrons unconscious before proceeding with the tonsorial operations. Fred's face is a legacy of the stadium where men do have such fun. Those Angels Again Then again there are the angels of Mons, who serenade me every Saturday and Sunday. Beyond Fred Snell there is not a singer in the whole gang, and if Fred Snell was a woman with paralysis in both arms, I'd knock his face through the embankment. But discretion is the better part of valour, and I am reluctantly compelled to say Fred can sing. I would also say something about Poll's tenor, but then again, he borrows my clock and theres nothing I hate more than the noise of an alarm bell in the still sacred hours of the morning. Warly can emit a ghastly shriek and Matt has a large piece of glass stuck tightly in his throat. In fact the angels are all affected in some way with the exception, may I hasten to add, of Fred Snell. However, I shall take further note of their songs on a future occasion, and may possibly be able to print a photo of this charming choir under the title of Should Worms Turn. Fred Snell explains Last week I inadvertently stated that our old pal Fred Snell had once falled in the ditch at Morton. Fred came down to interview me on Sunday, and I regret that such an error crept into these notes which usually are the embodiment of unadulterated truth. Over a cup of coffee and a cigar Fred and I tried to find out where the rumour about him falling in the ditch originated, but the quest ended in failure. It would appear however that the rumour might have gathered something in its telling, because really I think it began like this. ...Fred was making a stew for dinner and, after searching all the bins for potato peelings, cigarette ends, bandages, sardine tins, bits of rope, cabbage leaves and radish tops, in fact after searching for anything likely to make the stew appear rich, Fred looked for all the world as if he had fallen in the ditch but I was wrong in surmising, the only real misfortune that has befallen my friend occurred last week when he got stuck in the mud and had to cleave a passage through with his face.