Jack Sharkey

was born Joseph Paul Cukoschay, also spelt Zukauskas. the son of Lithuanian immigrants. in Binghamton. New York state, on 26 October 1902. 541line Some years later when a young reporter told him he couldn’t pronounce Sharkey's
name, the fighter laughed:

“Neither can I, That’s why I changed it’s the damnedest conglomeration of letters I've ever seen!'

As a boy growing up in Binghamton Sharkey wasn't much of a scholar. He preferred fishing in the local streams to attending classes, and was something of a loner.

As a kid griming up I avoided fights, he recalled. When the Lithuanian’s fought they fought to kill. And my favourite occupation is breathing. He did do some rudimentary boxing at St Patrick's Academy in Binghamton, although he never thought of it as anything more than a diversion.

DRIFTING TO THE BIG APPLE

As soon as he was old enough Sharkey worked in a local shoe factory for $7 a week and, after a year he started to take on some laboring work. At one time he was employed to help build a dam on the Susquehanna River, but Ile constantly dreamed of leaving home.

When , at 15, he was turned down for the Navy because he was too young he left home anyway and drifted toward New York City, sleeping rough and in hostels, managing to scrape a few dollars together from menial laboring jobs in bars and rail yards . He later claimed that he had been a foreman in the Endicott Johnson Shoe Factory at $ I25 a week, but this has never been confirmed.

In June 1920. 17 years old, broke and bright-eyed, Sharkey crossed Brooklyn Bridge on foot. He had no prospects, no way out, and on impulse because he saw the sign, because it seemed a better idea than any others he'd had, he tried the Navy again. This time he was accepted and packed off to training school in Newport. Rhode Island. It was another world, with rigid discipline, regular work and reasonable food.

Sharkey was on a vessel that patrolled the Caribbean, the USS South Carolina, and he remembered: “ They called it the 'Banana Fleet'. We used to go ashore with another company of Marines and a cannon, and put down uprisings.'

Sailors stayed off the boredom in whatever way they could, and Sharkey liked to pound away at a heavy bag in the gym. At the end of two years, he signed for another term and this time travelled across the Atlantic.

After being ordered retake part in a boxing tournament Sharkey won his fight in 30 seconds and decided to stick with fighting. He w on 38 times losing the 39th in the Navy championships final to Biff Crowley from Arkansas.

In January 1924 he was discharged from the Navy. He walked into a sports arena in Boston told them that he could fight and was offered $100 to box, .as long as he changed his name. He had no problem with that, dreamed up Jack Sharkey — a combination of Jack Dempsey and Tom Sharkey —and knocked out his first professional opponent, Billy Muldoon, in the first round. Sharkey liked his new name so much that he later adopted it legally.

Seven weeks after his pro debut in his fourth contest. Sharkey suffered his first defeat — a points decision against Eddie Record. In a rematch a month later, he knocked out Record in seven rounds, and then beat Floyd Johnson on points over ten. Johnson had lost to the former world champion Jess Willard in 11 rounds the previous year.

WEDDED BLISS

In the summer of 1924, Sharkey married a divorcee by the name of Dorothy, much against the wishes of her parents. His new parents-in-law were naturally anxious for their daughters future second time around, and were far front impressed by the fact that her new husband was a boxer.

However, their initial fears were to prove groundless as the couple remained together for almost 50 years and had three children — two girls. Dorothy and Marilyn, and a boy, Jack, who played football for the University of Maryland.

The Sharkey’s settled down in the Chestnut Hill area of Boston, but Sharkey's career took a tum for the worse, he was knocked out in nine rounds by Quinton Romero, in August, outpointed by Jimmy Maloney, in November, and then to all intents and purposes beaten again in a No Decision bout against Chancy Weinert, in December.

Sharkey claimed he wasn't knocked cold by Romero, but was simply to exhausted to fight on... a direct result of his marital exertions. 'We were just two kids in love and didn't know that this was no way to get ready to enter a ring, where you need all the energy you can get. I did too much honeymooning!'

By this point in his career, Sharkey, had got himself a manager, Johnny Buckley. but he was also prone to hand injuries. Boxing was Sharkey’s only obvious earning potential so, with a family to support, it was decided that he would have to abandon his swashbuckling style in favour of a more considered and thoughtful approach.

Sharkey's desire to look after his family also meant he developed the unusual habit of collecting his pay cheque on the day of a fight, taking it straight to a hank and depositing it, so that by the time he reached home it would have cleared.

THE START OF SOMETHING PROMISING

Sharkey got his career hack on track in 1925 by outlining strong Australian, George Cook, Johnny Risko and Jimmy Maloney, although he still lost decisions to Charley Weinert and Bud Gorman. It was the following year that saw Sharkey really start to make his mark on the heavyweight ratings, with victories over Gorman in a rematch. and against classy George Godfrey in Boston.

His biggest fight to date was set for October 1926 when he was matched with the great Harry Hills a man whose world title dream was frustrated purely because of the colour of his skin. No promotor was willing to risk money on marketing a black man, and even though Wills had signed terms to meet world champion Jack Dempsey he never got his title fight

Wills lost to Sharkey on a 13th round foul, and saw any lingering title pretensions disappear once and for all. “Wills was a physical culturist, a terrific fighter, and a hard puncher, but he'd been after Dempsey for so long and maybe he took me for a softie “: said Sharkey the fight. “ He was getting old, and age catches up with all of us.”

In March 1927, Sharkey stopped former light heavy champion Mike McTigue in 12 rounds, despite being adrift on points after 10, and so badly cut he needed 14 stitches in his mouth. Two months later, Sharkey fought Boston rival Jimmy Maloney for a 4th time in front of a crowd of 80,000 in the Yankee Stadium, New York City.

Sharkey knocked out Maloney in five rounds to earn a fight with his idol Dempsey, who lost his world crown to Gene Tunney eight months earlier. Dempsey knew be needed a fight before taking on Tunney in a return, and so he and Sharkey met at the Yankee Stadium in July 1927. A crowd of 75,000 supplied gate receipts of S1,083,530 - an astonishing figure for a non title fight .

KNOCKING HIS IDOL

Sharkey did his bit to sell the fight by describing Dempsey as a dynamo that has burned out, and for six rounds he appeared to be right. He staggered the former champion with a right hand in the opening round and Dempsey's legs were still wobbly when the bell rang. For the next five rounds his left jab was hardly out of Dempsey's face, bloodying his nose and mouth. Then in round seven the course of the fight changed dramatically. With the chance to throw body blows at close range Dempsey slammed away and one shot, a left, dropped low. Sharkey was furious — and in obvious pain - and cast a glance at referee Jack O'Sullivan. who was on the wrong side to see what had happened.

At that moment, Dempsey unleashed a terrific left hook to his opponents unprotected jaw. As Sharkey fell face firm to the canvas, the crowd roared their disapproval and manager Buckley made histrionic claims for a foul.

The knockout was allowed to stand, and Dempsey went on to his rematch with Tunney. For Sharkey what looked like being his finest hour had been snatched away from him. At least this fight and the past couple of year bad provided for his family's future: for the three fights with McTigue, Maloney and Dempsey, Sharkey had banked almost $300.000. The money allowed him to provide for his widowed mother and set up a trust fund for his children.

In old age, Sharkey chose to remember Dempsey with affection rather than bitterness. “ he broke every rule, and he'd do anything to keep you on the floor. Kick you even. he hit me in the nuts all night. With him you had a fight. He was the hardest hitter I ever faced - and I'm talking about the fair punches.' he recalled.

GETTING ON WITH IT

The pair never fought again, although Sharkey claimed that he asked Dempsey more than once, reminding him that whatever the outcome they would make a lot of money. Dempsey went on to lose the famous “battle of the long count” with Tunney in September 1927, and the announced his retirement in February 1928.

It took Sharkey some time to get over the Dempsey defeat, and he was listless as he drew with the New Zealand 'Hard Rock' Tom Heeney, next time out, in January 1928. Six months later, Heeney challenged Tunney for the world title and lasted into the 11th. Two months after drawing with Heeney things looked even worse for Sharkey when he lost a decision to Johnny Risko, a stocky, solid pro whom he had previously outpointed. Risko was a quality fighter who was prevented from reaching the very top only by his lack of a punch - be scored only 20 knockouts in 140 fights in 16 years. Risko did, however, fight everyone who was anyone, including four heavyweight champions: Sharkey, Tunney, Max Schmeling and Max Baer.

Sharkey put his problems against Risko down to his fragile hands.” I hurt then most against Risko and Tom Heeney” he said. “That gave Tunney an excuse not to fight me. I knew in my heart that I could have beaten Gene. So did he.”

Still, whatever the reasons, Sharkey knew that after three consecutive defeats, he seemed to he sliding into the massed ranks of heavyweight second-raters.

Sharkey halted his decline, in April 1928, when he knocked out former undefeated tight-heavyweight champion Jack Delaney in one round, and set off on an unbeaten run that would take him, belatedly, to a shot at the championship itself. He outpointed the glamorous “Georgia Peach” Young Stribling, and then won the vacant American title with a three round stoppage of another former light heavyweight champ. Tommy Loughran.

Jack hit Tommy so hard he had him talking to himself. Knocked out standing up. reported writer Daniel M Daniel.

In February 1930 Sharkey battered the talented but fragile Englishman Phil Scott who was known as “phaintin Phil' because of his reputation for folding from body shots. In a battle billed as a final eliminator, both boxers had accepted a 'No Foul' rule regarding low blows.

Scott went down for a count of six in the second from a low blow and the minute's rest at the end of the round was not enough for him to recover fully. He was told to fight on or lose by retirement, so he got off his stool only for Sharkey to attack with a barrage of body blows. Some were legal and more strayed low. Scott went down again in the third, was given time to recover, and was disqualified amid a storm of controversy.

If you include the time outs the final round lasted a total of three minutes 42 seconds. Scott claimed he had been hit low six times, but officials remained unimpressed and the result is now generally recorded a KO.

JACK'S LOW BLOW

After six years as a pro. Sharkey finally got his world title shot. A fight with Germany's Max Schmeling took place in June I930...and yet again, Sharkey, who entered the ring draped head-to foot in the Stars and Stripes was involved in a controversial finish.

After dominating the early stages of the fight Sharkey threw a careless left hook to the groin and Schmeling collapsed in a heap. After consulting the ringside judges. referee Jim Crowley disqualified Sharkey and awarded the championship to Schmeling, who had to be carried back to his corner.

Nat Fleischer wrote in his report for Ring magazine: 'Sharkey outsmarted Max in every move. he outboxed him, hooked, uppercut and countered beautifully’

Nevertheless, Sharkey was out in the cold again as Schmeling went on to defend the championship with a 15th round stoppage of Young Stribling.

Sharkey admitted that the Schmeling verdict took a lot of his fire away and left hint with a sense of disgust for the business. When he finally appeared in the ring again against Mickey Walker 13 months had passed.

Former welter and middleweight champion Walker was trying to make an impression on the heavyweight division but it was a crazy task for a man who stood only 5ft 7 in tall. Sharkey , 25lb heavier and 5 inches taller, couldn’t take 'The Toy Bulldog’ seriously and was almost made to pay for his casual approach. At the end of 15 rounds the decision was a draw. “ I took it easy on him” Sharkey remembered. “Thought I was a big shot.”

A SHORT-LIVED REIGN

Sharkey's next contest was against the giant Italian Primo Camera So many of Carnera’s earlier fights had been fixed it was difficult for fans to know past how good the Ambling Alp really was. Against Sharkey in October 1931 he proved that whatever people might say about his ability nobody could question his heart. As he climbed off the floor in the fourth round to last the full I5. Afterwards Camera called it the worst thrashing I shall ever expect to get. The victory Over Carnera laid the Walker Past to rest and in June 1932. Sharkey stepped into the ring for a title rematch with Schmeling.

Sharkey at the age of 29 finally became heavyweight champion of the word, although not, of course, without a whiff of controversy .At the end of 15 rounds he was given a split decision which provoked the German's manager Joe Jacobs to yell furiously: “We wuz robbed.”

Sharkey was champion for a year and eight days, until losing in his first defence, a return with Carnera.

The contest in June 1933 was ended by an uppercut in the sixth round that Sharkey never saw. Yet to many observers the champ had looked out of sorts from the opening bell,

THE WHISPER THAT WOULDN'T G0 AWAY

Sharkey's timing was off — he says he was ring rusty — and he was unable to trouble Carnera as deeply as he had done in their first meeting. The Italian's Mob connections were well known and many cynics suggested that the champion had thrown the fight. It was a rumour that was to follow Sharkey to his grave.

'Don't they understand that he just got better?' Sharkey said miserably late in life. When he was 80 he was still pleading his case, but understood that people “just couldn't accept that I lost the championship to a slow, muscle-bound bumpkin.

The “They” that he was referring to were all those who accused him of treating the heavyweight championship, the most prized of all boxing possessions , like 30 pieces of silver. His relationship with reporters had always been troublesome and even when he won the title he didn't endear himself to the press when he answered a leading question about what it was worth to him with a glib put down: 'oh. about 25 bucks. Maybe 50 if I knew the guy who a ran a pawn shop.' Now that he had lost the title Sharkey's detractors were ready and willing to condemn him for taking a dive. Nobody could believe that this emotional, most erratic of fighters, could have blown his title to Carnera. They refused to believe it. It was too illogical...unless he had taken mob money to do it.

Yet, as he continually said: 'I was on top of the world. Why would I purposely lose ?. Boxing was my business.”

He did, however, admit that the death of a one time protege and good friend Ernie Schaaf at the hands of Camera only four mouths earlier affected him. he also talked of discouraging occurrences in the build-up of the fact dim, as against Walker, he underestimated a man he should have beaten, and that in the wake of Schaaf s death he had conflicting emotions as to the nature of boxing.

“The haunting vision of Schaaf was constantly before me. I mean, I was with him the night he was killed. for Gods sake. I suppose everything closed in on me at once. I did not take a dive for the Camera fight. I wish people would get that notion out of their heads.”

NO WAY BACK

Starkey was never the same again after losing to Camera. He retired briefly to run a bar across the street from the Boston Garden, before selling it to Buckley and returning to the ring. He lost decisions to King Levinsky and Tommy Loughran, in the space of nine days in September 1933 and then faded into the boxing backwaters.

he briefly returned to the limelight when he fought the rising Joe Louis, in New York, in August 1936. Sharkey was still only 33 but he was a shadow of the vibrant, volatile heavyweight of the late I920s. Louis knocked him out in three rounds.

This time after 55 fights over the course of 12 years. during which time he had boasted a record of 38 wins, 14 defeats and three draws, he retired for good.

In 1952, he left Boston and moved to Epping, New Hampshire, living in the house which had belonged to his wiles grandparents and in which she had been born.They had visited it for years. and during his ring career Sharkey had used it a post-fight retreat. a peaceful place where his wounds could heal, his bruises subside and he could regain his strength.

GONE FISHING

In retirement, he refereed for a while, he controlled both of Archie Moore’s world light-heavyweight defences against Yvon Durelle - and ran another bar. But mostly he spent time watching his family grow up and indulged his lifelong passion for fly fishing.

He became a leading angler and gave demonstrations across the USA and Canada. Fishing most days of the week well into his late 70s. 'Sometimes you don’t care if the fish don't take the bait.' he said. 'You're just happy as hell to be out where the air is dean and the scenery is something that your eyes can value”

His wife Dorothy died in 1973 but Sharkey continued living in the home for almost another two more decades keeping it the way she liked it. “in this house. I have known life's sweetest moments”' he told veteran writer Laurence MacNamee in 1979. As well as his three children, he had 14 grandchildren and ten great-grandchildren. Most of whom he was proud to say had never even seen films of his fights. 'I'm just grandpa to them.' he said. His biting cynical wit remained through his long life. When Jack Dempsey died in 1983. somebody broke the news gently to him as he sat alone. He barely looked up.” So I finally beat the bastard.” he said.

Sharkey died of old age on 17 August 1991. He was 91.