Peter Corcoran, The First Irish Bare-Knuckle Champ
The story of the bare-knuckle era of prizefighting in the United States is largely the story of Irish immigrants. And even within the first generation of bare-knuckle fighting becoming established in England during the Georgian era, the Sons of Eire were already making their mark in the sport.
The first champion born in Ireland was Peter Corcoran, a farm boy who moved to Birmingham, England while still very young. He may have fled Ireland after murdering another boy in a fight over a girl.
In Boxiana, Pierce Egan tells a story of Corcoran’s initial fame as a fighter arising shortly after he arrived in England, while he was traveling across country on foot toward London. Corcoran and another Irish lad went into a butcher shop in a village they were passing through, to inquire over the price of a joint of meat. The butcher, who was also the local boxing champion, greeted the two new immigrant from across the Irish sea with insults and an impromptu fight broke out, during which the teenage Corcoran thrashed the older man.
In London, Corcoran worked for awhile as a coal heaver, then went to sea as a sailor. Aboard ship, he became popular among his mates for entertaining them with feats of strength. It was also during this time that Corcoran’s reputation as a fighter took off.
Returning to London from the sea, Corcoran launched his fighting career in earnest and went into business running a public house, which was a fairly standard profession for prizefighters of the era. Egan describes Corcoran as a powerful and aggressive fighter “who did not know how to shift, and scorned to fall without a knockdown blow.” Shifting, or falling at strategic moments during an exchange, was a fairly standard tactic for fighters under the London Prize Rules, but Corcoran preferred to steamroll his opponents. Again, according to Egan, “Peter was denominated a straight fighter; put in his blows with uncommon force…his attitude was considered too erect, his arms not sufficiently extended, by which means his guard was incomplete.”
Corcoran was a rugged, athletic brute of a fighter with uncommon power and no yield. Many fighters throughout the centuries have used these qualities to overcome deficiencies in science.
However, Corcoran’s title win and loss are both shrouded in controversy. He ascended to the title in 1771, when he faced the champion, Bill Darts, at Epson Downs, following the Epson Derby. In the shortest heavyweight title fight in history, Corcoran knocked Darts out in less than a minute.
This fight was almost immediately disparaged as a “cross.” During this period of prizefighting history, boxing had considerably dropped off since the glory days of Jack Broughton. The sport was still another generation away from the Golden Age of Jem Belcher and Tom Cribb. Purses were small during this era and fixed fights were common. Of course, since a large part of the interest around prizefighting had always been driven by gamblers, the dubious nature of the outcome only served to drive interest down.
Corcoran’s backer as a fighter was the notorious Captain Kelly, a fellow Irishman who had purchased a military commission. He was a famous gambler and had a reputation as a rogue. Egan refers to him as “one of the most celebrated sportsmen upon the turf…undoubtedly awake to every maneuver in gambling.” It was well known that Kelly had bet a large amount of money on Corcoran and the rumor circulated that he had paid Darts to take a dive, in order to protect his investment. Egan, a near contemporary, does note that “upon the best information, we are assured, that Darts, in his prime, was never half man enough for Corcoran!”
Corcoran defended the title a few times, with his biggest win as champion coming against fellow strongman Sam Peter. But in 1776, Corcoran dropped the title to the lightly regarded Harry Sellers.
Egan’s description of Corcoran’s loss to Sellers sounds similar to Jake LaMotta’s famous dive against Billy Fox. Corcoran nearly beat Sellers in quick fashion at the start of the fight, only to completely slow his work rate and seemingly fight in a stupor until finally giving up after 10 minutes. For a fighter who had built a reputation for unmatched bottom, such a performance instantly stunk of a cross. Suspicions were further inflamed when Corcoran, who had appeared on the brink of going out of business the day before the fight, was suddenly able to lavishly resupply his pub.
Corcoran had been a huge favorite with the bettors for this fight, especially with his fellow Irishmen. Egan expresses sympathy for “the poor Paddies” who were “literally ruined, as many of them had backed their darling boy with every farthing they possessed.”
Ultimately, though, Ireland would get some small amount of retribution against Sellers. According to Egan, on St. Patrick’s Day in 1780, Sellers went out of his way to insult a group of Irish boys who were out celebrating, with shamrocks tucked into their caps. Without knowing who they were up against, one of the lads, named William Harvey agreed to meet Sellers the next morning for a proper set to.
When Harvey arrived the next morning, Sellers confessed who he was, but Harvey still wanted justice for his insulted sense of national pride. So the fight took place, and the obscure, untrained Harvey proceeded to pound Sellers in just a quarter of an hour, forever destroying any claim Sellers could make to being a legitimate champion.
