On This Day: The Legendary John L. Sullivan Was Born

Who is, or was, the greatest fighter who ever lived? To some, in fact to many, John L. Sullivan is the man. The terror. The beast. The born to fight warrior who had an insatiable appetite for fighting, for boozing, and for fighting some more. Sullivan, who was born on this day in 1858, in Boston, Massachusetts, lived fast, he fought harder than hard, and he died young; at age 59.

Throughout his relatively short life, “The Boston Strong Boy,” all 5’10” and approximately 190 pounds of him, did way more than enough to fill a filmmaker’s mind if he or she wished to make not one but two movies dedicated to the man who some say ranks all by himself when it comes to the greatest of the greats to ever wear a pair of gloves. But of course, as we know, John L. didn’t don the padded gloves until he was reaching the end as a fighter; and there wasn’t much padding inside a fighter’s gloves at this time.

No, it was way, way, way tougher for a prizefighter in the days of John L, and Sullivan regularly destroyed any man who had no business being in the sport he himself was the king of. And when it comes to the simply awesome fights Sullivan engaged in, there are too many that are generally undocumented, at least properly. While of the precious filed articles that covered a Sullivan super-fight, opinions differ on who, the various writers of the day wrote down the most accurate description of what actually went down in the ring; or on the field.

But in the opinion of most boxing historians, the fight that took place on July 8th in 1889, this the very last bareknuckle title fight in history, ranks as Sullivan’s most unforgettable battle/war/fight to the finish – call it what you may.

At the time of what is arguably his greatest as well as most famous fight, Sullivan, for most people THE heavyweight champion of the world – the man who said he would “lick any sonofabitch in the house,” and did so – was challenged by Jake Kilrain. Kilrain had a claim to the heavyweight championship himself (given to him by the publisher of the influential paper of the day, ‘The Police Gazette’) and the two would meet at an undisclosed location to settle the argument.

Bareknuckle fighting was illegal in 38 states at the time, and word of mouth had to be relied upon if one wanted to see the Sullivan-Kilrain showdown. Some 3,000 fans made it to the field in Richburg, Mississippi where the fight would take place. The first round would start at 10AM, the fight to see the winner collect $10,000 a side, winner take all. The temperature at the time was a brutal 100 degrees in the shade. And, as the saying goes, there wasn’t much shade.

Sullivan’s reputation proceeded him grandly. A prodigious drinker, Sullivan fought both drunk and sober, mostly the former. Regularly seeing off vast quantities of bourbon that he would drink from a beer stein – yes, a beer stein – Sullivan had boasted, correctly, that no man could go four rounds with him. Touring across the country, taking on all comers, John L. had wiped out 59 challengers on the bounce. Not one lasted past the fourth round, with most being taken care of in round one.

But the thinking in Kilrain’s camp was, Sullivan’s legs were only good for around 20 minutes, that his legs, like the legs of all drunkards, would fail him after that point in the fight if it went that far. And Kilrain was exquisitely conditioned, his game plan to take Sullivan into the later rounds and then take over and win. And Kilrain was a clever boxer who could box and move.

The early rounds that historic day saw Kilrain take the lead (a round would only end if a man went down, and could therefore last minutes or mere seconds), as he refrained from slugging it out with Sullivan, instead focusing on avoiding the big-hitting John L’s lunges. Furious, Sullivan bellowed at his rival, “Why don’t you fight! You’re supposed to be the champ, ain’t ya?”

In round seven, Kilrain landed a hefty shot to the head that drew blood from Sullivan’s ear. In the next session, Sullivan scored the first knockdown of the fight. Both men must have been suffering already, the heat and the intensity of the battle punishing. But the fight was only getting started. For 30 rounds, the warfare continued, the blood of both men pouring, the savage heat doing damage to the stripped backs of both fighters.

After the 30th round, it was Kilrain was who tiring, slowing down, not Sullivan. It turned out Sullivan could fight for long periods after having downed large amounts of liquor; or had Sullivan been “on the wagon” as he trained for this fight? In any case, Sullivan was now in command, scoring more knockdowns and falls. But there was no quit in Kilrain, and he kept coming ‘up to scratch’ again and again. Astonishingly as well as agonisingly, there were still over 40 rounds of battle to come! Finally, by the point of the 75th round, a doctor informed Kilrain’s corner that, if they allowed their man out for more, “he will die.” It was over. The very last title fight in bareknuckle history had lasted a gruelling, indeed an unimaginable, 2 hours and 16 minutes.

John L. Sullivan was the king of kings. There was no doubt at all about it.

Sullivan would lose his next fight, over three years later, this when he boxed Jim Corbett in the first world heavyweight title fight fought under Marquees rules. The great man would die in February of 1918, aged just 59. Jake Kilrain, who lived to be 78, was one of the pallbearers.

This was not just a great fight – and just imagine, fellow fight fan, being there live that day – it is a history lesson.