Making a Sport of Fists: The Battles, Decline and Death of Tom Johnson, the Champion of England (1783 -1791). By Ray Esten
Abstract
This work looks at the life of prize fighter Tom Johnson, the champion of
England. His battles, his decline, and place of death. In essence unlocking a
window into eighteen century life in Britain, and Ireland. It contemplates
Johnson’s legacy, as one of the foremost of the scientific bareknuckle boxers,
and it concludes with ways in which this has impacted on the modern sport of
boxing.
Early Life
We know very little about the early life of Thomas Johnson. He was said to have been born Thomas Jackling in either Yorkshire or Derby. The Derby Mercury, however, generally recorded Johnson as being a local man. While the later publication Famous Fights argued that he liked to finish his personal letters with his signature followed by the words ‘of Derby’. Besides, the surname of Jackling is said to be common in Derby, but not in Yorkshire. His date of birth is also disputed, and is generally given as either 1750 or 1760.
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| Tom Johnson from old cigarette card |
Life in London
In any event, he arrived in London as a boy. The population of the metropolis
had climbed from 575,000 to 675,000 in 1750, and would grow more rapidly in
the coming decades. Brian Ladd depicts the city as one quickly becoming, ‘the
most populous in Europe since imperial Rome, and soon to be the largest the
world had ever known.’ The streets teemed with people from dawn until dark in
the evening. Newly arrived immigrants or migrants, vied for employment. It was
the beginning of the industrial age, and it was not uncommon for children from
as young as five years to be at work, for even their tiny wage was needed to
sustain the family.
The growth in population also increased the demand for food stuff, which
created a necessitate for healthy strong food porters. By the time Johnson had
reached manhood his physical strength, which was said to be immense, secured
him the position of corn-porter (a term used to include movers of corn, wheat,
barley, malt, beans and peas) at Old Swan Wharf, London Bridge. The porters
considered Johnson a robust fellow with a hardy humour and a ‘gentle almost
womanly kindness of heart.’ The latter can be illustrated through an account
in which a fellow porter was taken ill. Johnson, seeing that a wife and large
family depended on the man’s wage, undertook (unknown to them) to do the man’s
work alongside his own.
Introduction to the Prize Ring
Johnson, who impressed his co-workers with feats of strength, also engaged in
casual fisty cuffs with characters who frequented the dock. Yet, the key
moment in Johnson’s fighting career occurred in 1783 when Johnson clashed with
a professional pugilist named Jack Jarvas. Johnson, putting aside the fact
that his antagonist had several previous victories, agreed to settle their
dispute under the Broughtonian code (the rules which had regulated the Prize
Ring since 1743). This structured form of fighting may have had some appeal to
Johnson. He may have acquired some wrestling skills, and a good wrestling
base, was ideal for bare-knuckle boxing contests which comprised of throws
like ‘cross-buttock’ and head-locks such as ‘suit in chancery’
Broughton’s code had also eliminated such primitive practices as gouging and
purring, or hitting an opponent when on the ground. But it had its
limitations, including the fact that it neglected to allocate a particular
time for the duration of a round. This meant that a round ended when a man
went down. It prolonged many engagements, but it could also be exploited. A
good example of this was the contest between Big Ben and the Tinman. The
Newcastle Weekly noted in 1790 that, ‘the latter fell exactly one hundred and
thirty-three times, without giving or receiving a blow; -the number of rounds
in the whole 180.’
Champion of England
Nevertheless, Johnson overwhelmed Jarvas in half-an hour, and would perform similar feats against ‘the Croydon Dover’ and old ‘Death’ Oliver, once a favourite pupil of Broughton. He confronted Bill Love ‘the butcher’ at Barnet, ‘but the knight of the cleaver was, in a few minutes, so completely cut up, as to leave Johnson in possession of the ground.’ Johnson would defeat other notables including Jack Towers and Bert Fry, before securing his position as the best man in England against Bill Warr (Sometimes spelled Ward) at Berkshire in January of 1787, for £ 200 a side. On all accounts, Johnson made Warr look like an amateur. Warr's only answer was to adopt the ‘dropping system’ or going down on one knee (exploiting Broughton’s rules by availing of the right to a thirty second rest after going down). Overall, Warr put on a poor showing, and Johnson was the winner in one hour and thirty minutes.
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| Contemporary image of Michael Ryan |
The Ryan Johnson Rivalry
Johnson, now the rightful Champion of England, threw down the gauntlet, which
was taken up by an Irishman named Michael Ryan, who it was claimed was the
hardest hitter in the land. They met at Staines in December of 1787. For the
first fifteen minutes of this engagement noted the Leicester Journal, Johnson
contrived to appear so much exhausted, that two to one was laid on Ryan. At
one stage, Ryan delivered the coup de main and was about to finish the job
when Dick Humphries (Johnson’s second) grabbed Ryan’s arm. It looked like Ryan
would call a foul and be awarded the decision.
The fight continued, nevertheless, and Johnson, while terribly punished, grew strong and Ryan weak. At its conclusion, twenty-four minutes (some sources say thirty) Johnson was declared the winner. By this time, Johnson was considered to be a valued second or cornerman (the physical support system for the pugilist during a contest). The next year he was called upon to act as Dick Humpries second in a much-anticipated bout with Danial Mendoza. On this occasion, Johnson repaid Humpries for saving him from Ryan’s hammer fists, by intervening as Mendoza had Humpries on the rail. The London Jew was on the point of delivering coup de main when Johnson intervened, restraining his arm.
It could be suggested that Humpries saved Johnson from losing to an Irishman and in turn Johnson saved Humpries from losing to Mendoza, ‘the Jew’, and the winners remain ‘true’ sturdy Englishmen. Whatever the case, it did not damage Johnson’s standing as a second. In fact, he remained so impartial that Mendoza secured Johnson as his second for a rematch with Humphries. The Derby Mercury felt that, ‘when gentlemen in politics are sometimes found deserting their principles and changing sides, the pugilists imitating their betters, do the same.’
Ryan, for his part, did not forget Humpries insult, and the aggravated
question of fair play made the issue of a rematch, but a matter of time. An
agreement was made, and they climbed upon a wooden stage at Rabbit Dell in
Cassiobury Park, Hertfordshire, on a cold and wet February in 1789. The prize
money of 600 guineas, was a twofold increase on their last encounter.
By the midway mark of their contest, they had forgotten everything about
science and hammered away at each other with clubbed fists. The Irishman had
fought pretty well; however, Johnson’s superiority became evident by its
conclusion. The Times remarked that, ‘Johnson, at the end of the battle, was
so full of spirit, and Ryan so hurt and depressed, that after a very violent
blow upon the chest, which prostrated the adversary, it was declared to be
impossible to continue the unequal combat and victory.’ After thirty-three
minutes of fighting Johnson was, for a second time, the winner.
The rewards included £ 800 in admission fees, and Johnson was awarded £ 1000
from a supporter who had won a sizable amount of money through the victory.
Johnson’s fame was so considerable, noted boxing's first chronicler Pierce
Egan, that he was challenged, a few months after, by Isaac Perrins, of
Brummagem. The latter who stood 6 2" and weighed about 17 stone, was
considered to be one of the fiercest of the fighting breed. The champion, by
contrast, stood around 5' 9" and weighed close to 14 stone. On the stage, at
Banbury in Oxfordshire in 1789, they presented a marked contrast. Egan, who
observed them stripped, noted that ‘Perrins looked like a Hercules, and
Johnson a boy.’ The Perrins faction was so convinced of Johnson’s demise that
a number of them sported two to one against him.
It seemed a safe wager as Johnson appeared to be strained by the giant’s
force, and resorted to, ‘adopting the go-down game’ to avoid the terrific hugs
of his antagonist. This unmanly act, it was claimed, ‘lost Johnson many
staunch friends.’ Yet, as the fight progressed Johnson’s skilful footwork
flustered Perrins. By the sixtieth round the Birmingham giant appeared to be
devoid of most of his immense strength. By the sixty-second round Perrins
friends intervened, forcing their man from the stage. In an hour and a quarter
Johnson had proved himself the best man of the day, and a worthy champion. It
has been established that Johnson netted around £ 1500, from this contest.
Well, bravo, Tom Johnson! Your corn sacks have surely helped to make,
and keep you still -Champion of England.
His Last Fight as Champion
The question of who should challenge Johnson resulted in three celebrated contests between Humpries and Mendoza. Mendoza eventually triumphed with a final defeat of Humpries in 1790. By this time, it was said Johnson had retired. However, when Big Ben Brain (Sometimes spelled Bryan) challenged Johnson in 1791, he was still considered the champion. They had endeavoured to meet for a stand-up fight on a stage of 20 feet square in 1789, but it was surmised at the time that Big Ben was not likely to appear for he, ‘without provocation [had] broken the pipe of the former at a public house, we understand that a battle ensued, in which Johnson come off conqueror.’ However, Big Ben had been forced to forfeit that contest due to ill health. There must have been some bad blood between the men thereafter.
The Bristol collier, it was said, never let a day pass without reading the bible. But, on a bitterly cold January in 1791 he sacrificed the good book for a stage at Wrotham, Kent. On offer the championship, and a purse of £500. For the first eight minutes of the contest both men displayed their skills. However, Johnson, renowned for his feinting and slipping blows, refused to give ground; this warranted a desperate contest. By the fifteen-minute mark both men appeared tired and battered. Though Big Ben, who had a formidable fighting style, was having the best of their exchanges.
At one stage Johnson resorted to grabbing the Bristol fighter by the hair (in what was out of character for a man some considered a gentleman fighter) in an effort to land heavy blows. This tactic did not save Johnson or his claim to the championship. He was unable to answer the call for the nineteenth round, and soundly beaten in twenty minutes.
Johnson’s Decline.
It was noted that Johnson lost 700 guineas by Big Ben's conquest. The defeat also forfeited a two guineas per week allowance by the Jockey Club, ‘which he was to enjoy during his life, if he was not beaten before he had attained the forty third year of age.’ It is evident that over his fighting life Johnson collected considerable sums of money. It is also known that he invested a significant portion of what he received from his backer the Earl of Surrey in the ‘Grapes’ in Lincoln Inn Fields yet, alas! ‘The customers proving too flash, the licence was taken away.’ (it had been revoked due to gambling).
At this establishment, Johnson made the acquaintance of highwaymen and
other law breakers. In 1793 one John Wiltshire was on trial for
highway robbery. Johnson was called upon to give evidence, however, any
attempts he made to avoid giving incriminating evidence failed. Wiltshire was
turned off at Chelmsford, his body caged and suspended from a gibbet near the
scene of the crime. In a short time, Johnson was being detained in Chelmsford
prison on two capital charges, which consisted of stealing privately from one
John Underwood a bank note 20I., and from one Bernard Chapel seven guineas.
Johnson was granted bail on proving by his book that ‘he had 3000I in the
house of a celebrated banker.’ After his release he stopped for an elegant
light supper ‘from whence he and his suite proceeded the next morning in
five-post-chaises for London.’
Dark Times in Ireland
The economic depression caused by the war with revolutionary France initiated food riots and other disturbances in England. Money was hard to acquire, and Johnson, who had too many friends, was too easily influenced, or too fond of throwing dice, decided to leave England. With his social status and perhaps health diminished he boarded a ship for Ireland sometime in late 1795.
It does not appear that any relatives accompanied him. There is not much known about the family, a brother of Johnson's was recorded as a pugilist of lesser note, and a son (some sources say grandson) Ginger Jackling became a prize fighter in England later. Hence, it is fairly possible that the move across the sea followed some sort of family breakdown. It is also plausible that Johnson did not come to Ireland empty-handed. The funds he had left might have guaranteed a secure future, even if his propensity for dice had seriously reduced them. For, if he had £1000 in his possession, it can be set against the wage of a craftsman’s labourer in Dublin, which was twenty pence a day.
It does appear that he set-up a drinking/ gambling house in Dublin’s Copper
Alley [Cooper Alley]. And while this alley was close to Dublin Castle, it was
also secluded and rather notorious. In March of 1785 Sheriff Jenkins in the
late hours visited some of the infamous houses in this alley in an effort to
suppress seminaries of vice, particularly low gambling houses. Though it
continued to be included as one of the places in which, ‘the common
receptacles of every species of nocturnal villains and robbers … [are]
secreted in some lurking holes or private apartments.’ And it was described,
after the robbing of a young man of his shoes and silver buckle by some
villains, as one of these infamous seminaries of vice in copper alley.
By the 1790s, there remained a close link between gambling, drinking as well as prostitution in this vicinity. With many of the gambling houses or brothels being let out by magistrates who demanded higher rents. This period also saw stern efforts to control alcohol consumption, at a time of great social unrest. The sale of spirits, in particular, was adversely affected by licensing acts that spanned 1791 to 1797. It is not clear to what extent these particulars injured Johnson’s venture. Nevertheless, plus ça change, for Johnson according to Egan was, 'rooted by the magistrate from Cooper-alley [Copper Alley] from his house not providing so consonant to the principles of properties as were wished.'
The Death of Johnson
Johnson was in a country which lacked a system of public welfare, and a
general policy by the government that may have contained poverty. It has been
suggested that after his abortive business venture he sustained himself by
giving boxing lessons. Therefore, he was offering his services at Cork as the
country edged closer to turmoil (1798 Rebellion). A feature of which was a
deterioration in law and order that coincided with smaller and infrequent
boxing events, and small purses. Gloved exhibitions at the theatre and boxing
tuition would also have suffered. Even so, an x-champion might have tempted
the amateurs and those attracted to self-defence. Yet if Johnson had exhibited
at Cork there ought to be an advertisement in the local newspapers. Because
they are lacking it is more likely that Johnson was merely running a gambling
den in Cork in 1796, as one newspaper recorded. He perhaps moved from there to
Dublin.
While it cannot be ruled out that Johnson had enough money collected to
sustain himself in Ireland, it is also possible that he did what he had done
before and mishandled his gains. He may have relied on charity, in a city in
which the poor, and rural immigrants were jammed into rookies, and on the
verge of starvation. A strange fusion of Georgian grandeur as well as
squalor.
His health would have been a determining factor in his ability to maintain a standard of living, which he had become accustomed to. It might be expected that a life of gambling had taken some toll. However an indication that his physical condition was not what it once was can be deduced by the terrible punishment he received from Big Ben, for it was recorded that he suffered badly as a result. It is true that while he would not have taken the drumming that gloved boxers later received, the accumulation of bare fisted blows as well as trips, throws and falls on a wooden or turf stage could have resulted in severe damage to the brain, and in particular
Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE). The Derby Mercury attributed 16 stage battles (a considerable amount for the eighteenth-century Prize Ring) to Johnson. A man who, it could be argued, became withdrawn, and displayed erratic behaviour and cognition problems. Some of which shocked those who regarded him as an honest pugilist. This reflects somewhat Pete Carvill’s assessment of damage in the modern sport of boxing. One fighter Cavill explored, ‘became unbalanced in his late fifties, moving from easy-going to paranoid and irritable.’
Place of Burial
In Boxiana Egan tells us that Johnson wandered around in distress and died at Cork ,21 January 1797, aged forty-seven years. The Derby Mercury noted, however, that February that Johnson had died at Phesborough/Phelbourough. This place name pays little resemblance to any in the county or city of Cork (Bessborough being the closest). Yet, if the focus is turned to Dublin, then Phelborough might be a corruption of Phibsborough or Philipsburgh strand ‘that extended from one bridge to the other’ (it is situated near present day Cadogan Road in Fairview). Had Johnson died in this locality a record of the burial may exist. It is feasible that Johnson, most likely a protestant, would have been buried at the Church of St. John the Baptist, Drumcondra, which although known as Drumcondra Church, is officially the Church of the Parish of Clonturk. The burial cannot be ascertained by way of record, as Brian Freeman, Hon Sec & Treasurer of the church has noted, the records were destroyed in the course of the Irish Civil War (1922-1923).
Yet, this theory can be proved
thanks to a death notice in The Oracle. It recorded, a week after Johnson’s
death, that, ‘last week the remains of Edward Johnson, the celebrated champion
of England was interned at Drumcondra Graveyard. The name Edward is either a
mistake (as Johnson had faded from memory) or he used it while in Ireland.
What is crucial in establishing the place of death is the date of expiry, and
the fact that the newspaper referred to the deceased as ‘the celebrated
pugilistical champion of England.’
Johnson’s legacy
Johnson’s tale of fame and fortune followed by destitution is one that haunts
the Prize Ring. His status as a gentleman fighter perhaps owed more to his honour in the ring than outside. Still, anonymity in later life and an unsung burial challenges our
idealised view of the pugilist as universally celebrated. Yet, his contribution
to boxing's development has surpassed this unfortunate conclusion.
Fighting with naked fists had assumed the characteristics of a sport when it was first subjected to Broughton’s rules. After such heights it was resigned to the criminal elements. Yet, by the early years of the industrial revolution (mid 1780s-1820s) it had reached new heights. For, whatever of its legality, it had reached the point of respectability.
But, how had it proceeded from a practice coupled with bribery and chicanery to an accepted sport. To truly understand this, Johnson’s role is an imperative. For, it was when he emerged as an honest champion (someone who would not fight a fake) that sportsmen returned ringside, royal interest resumed and the Prince of Wales and his entourage were a feature of contests. Considerable crowds followed, and some of Johnson’s most memorable contests attracted spectators by the thousand.
In the days of Broughton (mid-eighteenth century) boxing had been a static
affair. The re-emergence of it as an excepted practice was not exclusively the
work of Johnson, but he did appear as a man who could make a sport of fists.
Therefore, his greatest asset, his ringcraft, was his greatest contribution to
the sports survival. This marked a period which Viscount Knebworth observed to
be a time in which footwork was introduced and exploited by Belcher, advanced
training set forth by Captain Bartley and the water bottle had replaced the
brandy bottle. Johnson’s practice of wearing colours became a symbol of the
prize fighter, his own being sky blue. Though it was Jem Belcher who
popularised it by’ wearing his ‘fighting colours ‘tied in a certain styling
manner around his neck.’
Nevertheless, the advanced skills, cited by Knebworth, can be traced to Johnson, whom Egan remarked, ‘worked around his antagonist in a way peculiar to himself, that so puzzled his adversary.’ Take for example, Perrins v. Johnson. This contest Egan argued displayed ‘the advantage of science over weight and strength.’ Offering a good depiction of Johnson’s eye for scientific fighting, ‘watching every moment of his antagonist, with coolness unequal; receiving the attack unappalled; and scarcely ever failing in the return of planting a most desperate hit.’ Amateur boxing champion (1920s) Dudley S. Lister considered Johnson a first-rate boxer, who studied beforehand the temperance and technique of his opponents.’ He augmented Johnson, ‘although courageous, he never risked unnecessary punishment.’ By sheer force of character wrote James Brady and clean sportsmanship he had restored the prestige of the game.
His time possibly ushered in a wave of popularity that was carried through till the time of Tom Sayers (Champion of England 1857-1860). Tom Johnson was officially inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1995.
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Online
Dennis Baker, ‘The Marketing of Corn in the First Half of the Eighteenth
Century: North East Kent’ https://www.bahs.org.uk/AGHR/ARTICLES/18n2a3.pdf
Ray Esten,
https://www.theirishstory.com/2020/09/25/scrapping-the-early-years-dublin-boxing-in-the-late-18th-and-early-19th-centuries/
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