One hundred years ago today Joe Louis, the owner of boxing’s greatest championship reign and the athletic catalyst for racial healing in America during the post-slavery era, was born. His life was one of supreme achievement, personal tumult and enormous influence and by the time he died in April 1981 he was arguably his sport’s most beloved figure, not just because of his feats inside the ropes but also because of who he was and what he meant to so many.
Joseph Louis Barrow was born May 13, 1914 in LaFayette, Alabama, the seventh of eight children of Munroe and Lillie Barrow. Living in the heart of cotton country Munroe and Lillie, both the offspring of former slaves, made their living alternating between sharecropping and rental farming. The ravages of mental illness caused Munroe to be institutionalized from 1916 until his death in 1938. Lillie’s uncle Peter helped with the work duties as they continually moved from harvest site to harvest site. Lillie eventually married Pat Brooks, a widower with nine of his own children, and settled in Camp Hill, Alabama.
Although slavery in the U.S. had been eradicated decades earlier, the racist sentiments that fueled it continued to rage. On their way home from visiting a sick friend late one night, the family was pulled over by a group of Klansmen who was about to pull them out of the car.
?Someone in the crowd recognized my stepfather,? Louis’ sister Vunies Barrow High recalled in ?Joe Louis: 50 Years an American Hero? by Joseph Louis Barrow Jr. and Barbara Munder. ?He said, ‘that’s Pat Brooks. He’s a good n*****.’ They didn’t bother my parents. My stepfather, however, made up his mind that night he was leaving Alabama.?
Brooks traveled by train to Detroit, where he first secured work as a street sweeper for the city before sending for Lillie, who brought five of his children and four of hers, including Joe. The boys built a boxing ring in the attic of a nearby barn and, unbeknownst to his parents, they boxed other neighborhood children. The positive boxing memories forged in that barn prompted Joe and his friends to visit the Brewster Recreational Center, where Joe began to take boxing lessons. At the time Louis, at the behest of his mother, was taking violin lessons and gave him 50 cents a week to pay for them. But Louis instead used the money to pay for a locker at the rec center. Though irked at first, Lillie was won over by her son’s drive to succeed.
?Very well,? she said. ?If you’re going to be a fighter, be the best you can.?
History would show that Joe’s best was far better than most. His named shortened to Joe Louis because there wasn’t enough space for his full name on the tournament application, Louis honed his skills under trainer Atler Ellis and a scientific young boxer named Holman Williams. Although he lost his first amateur fight against future 1932 U.S. Olympian Johnny Miler, who floored Louis seven times in two rounds, Louis ended his simon pure career with an outstanding 50-4 (43) record. While working out at the Brewster gym, Louis caught the eye of businessman John Roxborough, who, along with nightclub owner Julian Black, formed Louis’ management team when the fighter turned pro in 1934.
After moving Louis’ training headquarters to Chicago, Roxborough and Black hired Jack Blackburn as his trainer. Between 1900-1923, the lightweight Blackburn more than held his own against the best fighters of his era ? or any era ? in Joe Gans, Sam Langford, Harry Greb and Philadelphia Jack O’Brien. His ring smarts enabled him to compete against men far bigger than himself, including heavyweights, and his street smarts allowed him to navigate prison life (where he was jailed for murder) as well as the rough-and-tumble boxing landscape as a trainer. He guided the likes of Sammy Mandell, George Godfrey, Bud Taylor and Sailor Friedman (who challenged welterweight champion Mickey Walker in 1925) but when he was presented with the opportunity to train Louis he initially balked because of the difficulties of making money with an African-American fighter. All it took to change Blackburn’s mind was one look at Louis inside a boxing ring.
Not only did Louis have a magnificent physique for his chosen sport ? a 76-inch reach on a six-foot-one inch frame, laser-quick reflexes, smoothly formed muscles and concussive power in both fists ? he also was willing to spend long hours in the gym perfecting his craft. Blackburn taught Louis to shuffle his feet toward the target in order to establish ideal range for the short, compact punches that followed. The battering-ram jab that tenderized opponents was often changed to a howitzer hook in the blink of an eye and his spring-loaded right crosses tore through opponents with frightening efficiency. His crisp combinations were delivered at a speed that looked even faster when contrasted with Louis’ sleepy, deadpan demeanor.
Despite the fact that his pro debut took place 80 years ago, Louis’ weaponry would still be considered state-of-the-art in today’s game in terms of technique and delivery. Like Sam Snead’s golf swing, Ted Williams’ batting stroke and John McEnroe’s volleys, Louis’ form was the picture of perfection. Succeeding generations of teachers would use them as examples of textbook execution and because of that they were able to transcend time.
Louis’ professional career began on July 4, 1934 at Bacon’s Arena in Chicago in a scheduled six-rounder against Jack Kracken, a 27-7-3 light heavyweight from Norway who had spent the lion’s share of his four-year career fighting out of Seattle. Louis cracked Kracken with a trip-hammer hook that produced a nine-count knockdown, then knocked him into the lap of Illinois commission chairman Joe Triner. Though Kracken managed to crawl back into the ring within the mandated 20 seconds, referee Davy Miller waved off the fight. For less than two minutes of ring time, Louis earned $59.
Louis was moved quickly. He fought his first eight-rounder in only his third outing and was moved to 10-rounders by fight six. Every one of Louis’ 69 fights was a main event and his string of knockouts over gradually more demanding competition caused a stir throughout the country. However, to reach the ultimate goal ? the heavyweight championship of the world ? Louis needed to convince the white establishment that he would not rock the boat as Jack Johnson had a generation earlier.
While a number of blacks challenged for and won championships in lighter weight classes, the most prized possession in sports was sealed off from African-American contenders due to Johnson’s in-your-face behavior throughout his seven-year reign. To combat those fears ? and to draw a vivid contrast between Johnson and Louis ? Roxborough and Black had Louis follow a series of rules while in public:
* Never have your picture taken alone with a white woman.
* Never go into a nightclub alone.
* Have no soft fights.
* Have no fixed fights.
* Never gloat over a fallen opponent.
* Keep a solemn expression in front of the cameras.
* Live and fight clean.
Louis’ innate modesty and soft-spoken approach made those rules easy to follow and over time the resistance to Louis’ advancement softened. Meanwhile, the successes inside the ring continued unabated.
Louis completed a 12-0 (10) 1934 with an eighth-round TKO over Lee Ramage in their first of their two fights while in 1935 he surged toward the top of the heavyweight division with an 11-0 (9) campaign highlighted by consecutive knockouts over Primo Carnera, King Levinsky, Max Baer and Paulino Uzcudun. Unlike 1934, where all but one fight was staged in Chicago, 1935 saw Louis perform in Detroit, Pittsburgh, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Dayton and, most importantly, New York City. The Carnera and Baer fights were staged at Yankee Stadium while the Uzcudun bout represented Louis’ first appearance at ?The Mecca of Boxing,? Madison Square Garden. Long before then, Louis had earned an immortal nickname ? ?The Brown Bomber.?
The Baer fight, boxing’s first million-dollar gate in nearly a decade, was perhaps the best demonstration of the young Louis’ exquisite savagery. Before 88,150 spectators, Louis’ searing jabs, blazing hooks and pulverizing crosses landed with nearly unerring accuracy while Louis absorbed little save for a thrilling exchange near the end of round one. Louis, who married Marva Trotter earlier in the day, floored Baer twice in round three and a third time in the fourth in which Baer sunk to the canvas as if in slow motion.
