The Transition from Bare Knuckles to Gloves
It’s a common assumption that the transition from bare-knuckle prizefighting to gloved combat was the result of a more civilized society demanding additional safety concessions for a brutal and primal sport. The adoption of gloves for competition, along with the institution of the Marquess of Queensberry Rules, was an attempt to dress up boxing with a touch of respectability. Whether it actually made boxing “safer” is very questionable.
The use of gloves as a training device had been pioneered by the great Jack Broughton in the 1740s. He called them “mufflers.” They allowed the gentlemen students at his academy to spar without risking too much damage to their gentlemanly hands. They also let the actual fighters who trained with Broughton to practice without breaking fingers or knuckles.
It’s true that gloves pad the concussive impact of a blow, to a degree. I supposed I’d rather take a hook from a trained fighter wearing an eight-ounce glove than one who was bare-fisted. But either shot is pretty likely to knock me cold.
Gloves primarily protect the hand, which is a valuable consideration. Hand injuries are a constant concern for boxers. But the fact that they provide so much protection for the hands has almost certainly led to more trauma to the head.
In the bare-knuckle era, fighters had to carefully aim and select their punches, in order to protect their hands. In-the-pocket trading of four, five or six punch combinations was far more rare than in modern times. Whereas referees under the Marquess of Queensberry rules are forced to break up clinching fighters, in order to force a return to trading punches, under the less “gentlemanly” London Prize Rules of the bare-knuckle era, wrestling and throwing were allowed, so far more time was spent in the clinch, grappling for positions.
The records of fights from the bare-knuckle era indicate that the punishment absorbed was often brutal. Post-fight sketches show grotesquely disfigured combatants. Still, most of the fights were marathon sessions of standing and grappling, punctuated by bursts of punching, or “milling.” Battles were most often decided by fatigue. The type of contemporary, uneducated bleacher bum who boos the slightest lull in the action during a boxing match today would have found plenty to be impatient about during many of the great bare-knuckle fights of the distant past.
The central figure in the transition from bare-knuckle to gloved rules is, of course, John L. Sullivan. He was the last, true, bare-knuckle world champion, but he did more than any other person in history to popularize the use of gloves and the format of three-minute rounds, with a one-minute break in between.
Sullivan was an excellent wrestler. His trainer for his most famous bare-knuckle defense, against Jake Kilrain in 1889, was William Muldoon, the greatest American wrestler of the era, and Sullivan spent long hours grappling and pummeling with him. But what made Sullivan truly great was his ability to feint on the outside, then explosively counter punch. He was a dangerous, swarming puncher.
So Sullivan preferred the Queensberry rules because they allowed him to exploit his greatest strengths and win much more easily. Under the London Prize Rules, a knockdown forced an immediate break of 30 seconds, with the downed fighter given an additional 10 seconds to reach the scratch line from his corner, to begin a new round. Crafty fighters would employ the tactic of “shifting,” or dropping to the ground from minor blows or even out of the clinch, in order to force another break in the action. Smaller fighters would use these tactics to extend the bout and fatigue bigger men. The single blemish on Sullivan’s record, prior to his eventual loss to James J. Corbett, was a draw with the clever, 160-pound Englishman, Charlie Mitchell, who simply exhausted Sullivan through defensive shifting.
With the Queensberry Rules, a downed opponent was given the count of ten to reach his feet, and then Sullivan could immediate resume his pounding. The gloves protected Sullivan’s hands for the flurry of blows he administered.
The gloves also had a very important promotional value. Prizefighting was illegal, but prizefighting meant “bare knuckles.” With the use of gloves, Sullivan’s bouts could be presented as “exhibitions.” Sullivan’s bare-knuckle bouts had to be held in secret locations, with fans forced to wait until the last minute to board trains or barges to far-flung spots, beyond the easy reach of authorities. Even after the fight took place, legal repercussions were likely to follow. Sullivan ended up paying almost as much in fines as he made for fighting Kilrain.
Giving gloved exhibitions, though, proved to be a never-ending cash cow for Sullivan. He undertook famous barn-storming tours, visiting cities and towns across the country with the challenge that he could knockout all comers within four three-minute rounds, wearing gloves. Takers for this challenge were rare, and more often, Sullivan would end up sparring for the crowds. But the crowds were huge. Sullivan was a phenom and nearly every man in the country was anxious to see him in person and perhaps even get the opportunity to become somebody who could boastfully offer others the chance to “shake the hand that shook the hand of Sullivan!” These public appearances were wildly popular and no local authorities would have been anxious to shut them down. The use of gloves gave them a fig leaf of protection against community moralists who complained, since it wasn’t truly “prizefighting.”
Since the Queensberry rules did specify defined rounds, it did provide a manageable framework for setting a length for fights, rather than making every fight a “fight to the finish.” If a fight that could only be decided by one fighter surrendering or being rendered unable to continue, determined, evenly matched opponents would very often end up taking tremendous punishment.
Even after the adoption of gloves and three-minute rounds, the tradition fighting “to the finish” hung on for another generation or so, and some remarkable marathons continued to take place. In 1906, the legendary Joe Gans defended his lightweight title over 42 rounds against the aptly named Battling Nelson. In 1909, Joe Jeannette stopped Sam McVea after an astonishing 49 rounds in Paris.
Originally published at medium.com on December 26, 2015.
