Caution Took It on the Chin : 50 Years Ago Today, Conn Had Louis Beaten--Almost

Fifty years ago today, for 50 minutes 58 seconds, Billy Conn was the heavyweight boxing champion of the world.

But then, because he had lost his fear of Joe Louis, he became the heavyweight chump of the world. As Conn himself put it after the fight: “What’s the use of being Irish if you can’t be dumb?”

On June 18, 1941, 54,487 paid $451,800 to watch Louis fight Conn at New York’s Polo Grounds. A 23-year-old, cocky light-heavyweight with a Hollywood smile who was outweighed by at least 30 pounds let boxing’s most valuable prize slip from his grasp. But as a fight, it was a classic.

One of boxing’s best-remembered matchups happened as the world was being torn in half. In Europe, Hitler, winning in the West, would hurl 3 million men at the Soviet Union four days later. Pearl Harbor was six months away.

In sports, Joe DiMaggio, on his way to 56, hit safely that afternoon in his 31st consecutive game. Lou Gehrig had recently died. Whirlaway had won the Belmont, becoming the fifth Triple Crown winner.

Louis-Conn I matched a dominating heavyweight champion, Louis, who was defending his title for the 18th time, against a former light-heavyweight champion who had beaten 20 world champions in his 68 fights. Conn is still considered one of the sport’s classic boxers.

He grew up in the East Liberty section of Pittsburgh. As a kid, he sometimes made deliveries of bootleg whiskey in milk bottles. When he was 13, he walked into a gym one day and asked the man who would train him throughout his career, Johnny Ray, to teach him to box.

Pittsburgh, as was the case in most other major cities in Depression America, was a busy boxing town. There were regular cards at Motor Square Garden in East Liberty, Duquesne Gardens, the South Side Market House and Forbes Field, the Pirates’ baseball park. And nearly every small town in western Pennsylvania had at least a monthly boxing show.

In the gym, Ray observed raw athletic talent in Conn. He also noticed that more experienced fighters found Conn hard to hit. Conn never fought an amateur bout, instead learning his trade for a period of years by sparring in the little East Liberty gym with established pros.

In his first pro bout in 1935, at Fairmont, W.Va., he lost a four-round fight and was paid $2.50. Actually, Conn netted 50 cents. Ray took out $2 for “incidentals.”

But over the next four years, fighting primarily in Pittsburgh, Conn beat some of the best middleweights of the day. He became prominent in New York in 1939 when, within five months, he beat contenders Fred Apostoli (twice) and Solly Krieger in Madison Square Garden. He earned $15,000 for the first Apostoli fight.

In July of 1939, he won a decision over Melio Bettina in New York for the vacant world light-heavyweight championship. He defended the title three times, then, in 1940, moved up in search of bigger paydays, against heavyweights.

He beat seven heavyweights--”They’re easier to hit than smaller guys,” he told a friend--then got the match with Louis. Conn would earn $77,202.40, Louis $153,905.

In the aftermath, the weigh-in at the New York State Office Building in Manhattan was nearly as intriguing as the fight. The weights, as announced by promoter Mike Jacobs, were 199 1/2 pounds for Louis, 174 for Conn.

It was learned later, though, that Conn actually weighed 169 and that Louis was more than 200, just as he had been for 12 of his previous 13 fights. But Jacobs, fearing a drop in interest if the true weights were known, fudged. As it was, Louis went off as a 4-1 favorite.

Today, a study of the fight film shows a slow-starting, cautious challenger befuddling a much bigger champion with superior boxing skills, growing in confidence over the middle rounds, then steadily becoming recklessly confident.

And at the end, the film confirms Louis as one of boxing’s great finishers. He was confused and seemingly off balance all night, but the moment Conn got in trouble, Louis closed the show.

Conn, always a slow starter, lost the first two rounds. But he went on the attack in the third and rattled Louis with a sneaky right hand at close range. He threw the same punch in the fourth, and it hurt Louis even more. The champion stumbled after the blow and covered up.

In the fifth, Louis whacked Conn’s ribs with one of his trademark left hooks, but the punch didn’t seem to faze the challenger. In the seventh and eighth, Conn piled up more points with his hippity-hop footwork, stinging Louis with crackling left jabs and straight rights.

Three times in the eighth, Conn smacked Louis with lead left hooks and inside combinations, then darted from harm’s way before Louis could counter. He hurt Louis with a left hook at the bell.

At the bell ending the ninth, Conn said to Louis: “Joe, you’re in a fight tonight.” And Louis replied: “I know it.”

The momentum was all Conn’s when Louis came out aggressively in the 10th, as if his cornermen had told him his championship was in the balance. But Conn won that round, too, as well as the 11th. At the end of the 11th, the grinning Conn raised his right fist jubilantly.

Throughout the 12th, Conn seemed to be grinning at Louis. Working inside now, Conn, no doubt buoyed by the cheers of thousands of his Pittsburgh followers, showed no fear as he pounded on Louis at will. And when Louis missed badly with two left hooks, Conn grinned again, obviously no longer afraid of Louis.

Near the end of the 12th, Louis’ knees dipped after a smashing right-left-right combination by Conn, but the champion righted himself.

Between the 12th and 13th, Ray gave Conn good advice, which, both agreed later, the fighter ignored.

Ray: “We’ve got him! Stay away! Box!”

Conn: “No. I’m going to fix him up.”

And so the cocky kid from Pittsburgh went out for the 13th . . . and blew it all.

Midway through the round, Conn was hurt for the first time by a right uppercut and two left hooks. For a second, he was frozen in his tracks. Then, fighting through pain and confusion, he abandoned his superb defense and opened up wildly.

Louis caught the advancing Conn with a right uppercut that snapped Conn’s head back. The challenger clinched, for the first time, then Louis pounded Conn with seven punches and Conn sank slowly.

He seemed to rise at the 10-count, but referee Eddie Joseph waved him off with two seconds left in the 13th.

After the 12th round, one judge had the fight even, six rounds each. Another had Conn ahead, 7-4-1. Joseph had Conn ahead, 7-5. The Associated Press card had Conn ahead, 8-4.

What would have happened if Conn had survived the 13th? Had he won one of the last two rounds, he would have won eight rounds on two cards. But Louis, since he won the 13th, probably would have won the fight by decision had he won both the 14th and 15th.

Regis Welch of the Pittsburgh Gazette wrote in his fight story that night: “Conn got caught trying to stretch a home run into a five-bagger.”

Conn had a second chance. But boxing followers had to wait out World War II for the rematch. Both men were lesser boxers after the war, but Conn had slipped far more than Louis. In a dull fight, Louis knocked out Conn in the eighth round June 19, 1946, at Yankee Stadium.

Conn-Louis II is more remembered for its gross receipts than for the fight. It had boxing’s first $100 ringside seats, the crowd was 45,255, and the gross was $1,925,564. Louis earned by far his largest purse, $625,916.44. Conn made $312,958.22.

Louis, however, kept very little. He had borrowed against future purses from the promoter, Jacobs, throughout the war.

Conn invested in Pittsburgh real estate and has lived comfortably since. At 73, he still lives in the same large home in Pittsburgh’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood that he bought for $17,500 shortly after Louis-Conn I.

Louis died in 1981.

Conn and Louis became friends. Once, at a banquet, Conn said to him: “Joe, why couldn’t you have let me keep that title? I probably would have let you have it back in the rematch.”

Responded Louis: “Six months? Billy, you couldn’t even hold onto it for 12 rounds.”

After the first fight, Conn married Mary Louise Smith. The two of them then went to Hollywood, where Conn played a character named Kid Tinsel in a boxing movie, “The Pittsburgh Kid.” Later this month, they will celebrate their 50th anniversary in the home where they reared four children.

There will be no big party, though. A lifelong friend, J. Knox McConnell of Keystone, W.Va., recalls a Conn testimonial a year ago at a Pittsburgh hotel.

“It was just something a lot of people in Pittsburgh wanted to do . . . everyone but Billy,” McConnell said. “Billy’s a gruff-talking sort of guy, but basically very shy. He just enjoys staying at home.”