Mr. Joe Louis
The One and Only

In the 1930's, Joe Barrow was a teenager living in Detroit with his family, attending vocational school studying cabinet making. For his spare time, his mom tried to get him interested in learning to play the violin. But woodworking was already becoming a trade of the past, and Joe's huge hands just weren't made for fiddle playing. The only practical alternative to either avocation was working in one of Motor City's automobile manufacturing plants.

Uniquely in pre-WWII America, the factories, particularly Ford, paid the same wages for the same work regardless of race (even the White House paid its black workers less than white employees). But of course, advancement was tilted a wee bit in favor of whites. Still the Detroit factories provided a better living than most of the men had ever seen. But then the Great Depression hit, and car production was cut back 80 %. Most of the men - black and white - were out of work. So it wasn't clear what Joe had to look forward to.

In a day where the only electronic entertainment was listening to the radio, if you wanted to enjoy yourself you had to get out of the house. Travel was also much more onerous than today - it took four days to travel from New York to San Francisco by train (if you were lucky) and a week to go across the Atlantic if you were on a top notch steamer. Few people had cars, and trolleys and trains were the way you got around town (horses pulling delivery wagons could still be seen on the streets of many American cities). So living and entertainment were localized.

Then as now, sports were a primary pastime, and kids naturally aspired to be the next Babe Ruth or Jack Dempsey. So there arose a marketable service, the neighborhood gym or athletic club, which were the forerunners of the modern health club. True, the equipment was a bit more rudimentary, but the gyms not only offered routine training to help keep everyone in shape (ladies gyms were particularly popular), but they also became centers for official amateur events.

It's hard to believe in today's world of 24/7 non-stop sports broadcasts of football, basketball, golf, tennis, hockey, bowling, NASCAR, poker, and what have you, before the 1950's there were only three - count 'em - three professional sports to speak of: baseball, horseracing, and boxing. Horseracing was largely an adult sport, but sandlot baseball was a popular and reasonably wholesome pastime for the neighborhood kids. Of course, your local gym usually had a boxing ring set up for the aspiring pugalists.

It was inevitable, then, that Joe would put on a pair of gloves to spar with his buddies. One friend remembered when Joe first put on the mitts, he flattened his opponent with a single punch. Joe's clear ability attracted the attention of the amateur promoters, and Joe began to enter AAU bouts. Soon he was entering and winning Golden Glove tournaments.

A popular story is Joe dropped his last name so his mom, Lillian, wouldn't learn of his new found passion. But Vunies, Joe's youngest sister, remembered their mom, if a little concerned that her youngest son particpated in such a rough sport, knew what Joe was doing and felt that ultimately what her kids wanted to do was their business. Besides, boxing was a sport that held considerable prestige. The heavyweight champion was one of the most admired men in America, and if Joe got good enough, then he might actually make a decent living. It was really Joe's stepdad, Pat Brooks, who was a bit disapproving of his stepson's interest. But when Joe showed he had the ability, Pat not only approved of Joe's entering the sweet science, but became quite the fight fan.

After winning 50 out of 54 amateur matches, Joe turned pro at age 20. That wasn't really all that young for the time and place (a later competitor and friend of Joe's, Billy Conn, went professional at age 17). For nearly twelve years, Joe lost only to German heavyweight, Max Schmeling. That was on June 19, 1936. Then on June 22, 1937, Joe fought (and knocked out) heavyweight champion, James J. Braddock, the "Cinderella Man" of the Ron Howard movie and the book of the same name. Joe had reached boxing's highest pinnacle.

Jimmy had held his title for two years, which was not an unreasonable time for a heavyweight fighter. But Joe was the undisputed champ for nearly 12. To date no fighter has exceeded the duration of his tenure or the 25 times he defended his title. Today when a boxer might fight three times a year, Joe once fought seven bouts in seven months. He even once fought two matches in two weeks.

All his life Joe said the toughest battle was his first fight with Billy Conn on May 23, 1941. From the first, Billy had been winning the fight on points. After the 12th round, Billy's manager told him all he had to do was stay away from Joe for the last three rounds and he'd win.

But Billy decided that it would be more impressive if he could be the man to knock out Joe Louis. Billy came in to fight Joe up close and was knocked out. He later told Joe he thought Joe should have let him win. After all, he had the fight won through the 12th round. Besides, Billy added, Joe would have won the title back in six months, anyway. Joe laughed and asked how could Billy have held the title for six months if he could barely hold it for 12 rounds.

Joe's most famous fight, of course, was his second bout against Max Schmeling, on June 22, 1938, exactly one year to the day after winning the championship. Most of the American public saw the fight as a symbolic test of American's doctrine (but imperfect practice) of freedom and equality for all contending against Nazi Germany's tyranny and theories of racial superiority. People who knew Max, though, recognized the personable German was really a nice guy and a decent man who had the misfortune to be a celebrity in a country run by the worst dictator in history (Max and Joe it should be pointed out, later became good friends). But in this second bout, Joe defeated Max by a knockout in the first round. Within two years of winning the world heavyweight championship, Joe Louis had become one of the most famous men in America, equally popular with both whites and blacks.

With the Second World War underway, Joe entered the military. Of course, there was no way the army was going to put Joe Louis in danger. So after boot camp and a brief stint in the cavalry, Joe was assigned to Special Services to help boost morale. So he spent most of his time touring army bases, meeting the troops, and fighting exhibition matches. Joe received the Legion of Merit on September 24, 1945 and was discharged from the service.

But the long layoff from professional boxing had taken its toll, and Joe himself realized he was no longer the fighter he had been when he had gone in. Now in his thirties, he continued to box and win, but it was clear if he kept it up he would be defeated sooner or later. Finally, Joe officially announced his retirement. It was March 1, 1949, and Joe had been champ for 11 years and eight months, a record duration for the heavyweight title. He had defended his title an unprecedented 25 times. Both records stand today.

On paper Joe did quite well financially, Yes, there were people who tried to take advantage of him, but Joe himself said he received a full 50 % of the receipts - not bad considering the size of his entourage. He certainly never felt he was mismanaged by his promoters, who he realized had taken a gamble on the 20 year old kid from Detroit. Joe had made money and he didn't mind if his managers made money.

One thing that worried his promoters was that early on Joe soon acquired a most insidious and compulsive addiction they thought might hurt his boxing career. Yes, Joe Louis discovered golf. His trainers worried the more gentle but time consuming sport developed his muscles in the wrong way. It also took a lot of his time. When not in active training he might put in three rounds a day and when in camp he'd still get out onto the links whenever he could. In any case, Joe became quite the accomplished golfer and was very nearly a tournament quality player.

By the late 1930's Joe was one of the most recognized, successful, and wealthy men in America. But like most boxers Joe had a large group of followers and friends, many of whom were paid employees. He was also generous both to his friends and himself.

Of course, there were extra expenses that arose from Joe's fondness for the ladies. Married three times, he also had a virtually unbroken string of girlfriends of greater or lesser fame (Lana Turner and Lena Horne are two beauties that come to mind) and of shorter or longer duration (the relationships lasted anywhere from one night to decades). He set his special girls up with apartments, gave them lavish presents, and quickly went through whatever he made. "I don't know where the money went," he later said.

Joe's spending led to tax problems. Prior to World War II, there had been no witholding, and the taxpayer was supposed to make sure he had enough left over to pay Uncle Sam. So if you didn't have the money you either borrowed the money or (as oft times happened) just didn't pay.

Joe didn't try to buck the system, but like everyone else, he did take various types of deductions that even then were a popular modus for whittling down the amount of your taxable income. He took the deductions in good faith, but that didn't matter to the tax collectors who often found fault with what Joe was claiming as exempt. And we know there's really only one winner in that fight.

At the War's end, Joe found himself owing more than half a million dollars in back taxes and when he retired, his debt was closer to a million. The big question was how to pay what he owed. His first choice was a comeback in boxing. So in August 1950, he went back into the ring. He fought for the heavyweight title on September 27, 1950 against the reigning champ, Ezzard Charles. Ezzard was reluctant to fight (and likely beat) his boyhood idol who was seven years his senior, out of shape, and ten pounds overweight. But he agreed to meet Joe. Joe made it through all fifteen rounds, but Ezzard won the match easily. That was Joe's second professional loss.

After the bout, Joe announced he would retire, but with money problems continuing to mount almost immediately signed up for more fights. He won all eight of the next battles, and admittedly in some he looked great. But most of the contests were not against top notch contenders. Then Joe agreed to fight the twenty-eight year old Rocky Marciano. That was October 26, 1951, and Joe was knocked out in the eight round. Joe finally hung up his gloves for good.

Joe tried various business ventures (such as the Joe Louis Milk Company or marketing Joe Louis Punch). Reversing an earlier principle, he even began endorsing cigarettes. But nothing made him enough money settle his taxes. As other retired boxers have before him, Joe tried professional wrestling, debuting on March 16, 1956. Although the matches were then (as now) scripted, they still took stamina and were really too much for a 42 year old to handle. His wrestling career was short and ended after he cracked some ribs.

Joe's income became less and less. By 1961, he was making only $10,000 a year. True, by the standards of the day, this was a decent wage when you realize the median family income was $7000. But Joe continued to live well, and he still had a family and a lot of friends whom he supported. What the tax collectors didn't take, he spent, and he fell behind even with his current taxes. What he owed had ballooned up to 1.3 million by 1962, which would be about 10 million in today's money.

The constant worry over money problems began to take a toll on Joe's state of mind and this influenced his behavior. One night one of his - ah - lady friends showed Joe how a little stick of a needle could take all his worries away - at least for the time being. Soon Joe was suffering from what is now too courteously referred to as a substance abuse problem. This plus a fear he would go to jail over his tax problems made things worse.

Soon Joe began to act strange. He became convinced his enemies (whoever they were) were pumping poison gas into his room, and he would take mayonnaise and seal up his bedroom windows and door cracks. He would pile pillows and blankets into makeshift caves to sleep. He also became convinced "they" were poisoning his food, and he wouldn't even eat meals that his wife prepared.

Joe clearly needed professional help, but he would not admit there was a problem. Also California law (where Joe was living) was strict. Treatment in mental hospitals had to be voluntary without a long and arduous legal process. But his family got Joe to take a trip to Colorado where, taking advantage of a local law, they were able to get him committed to a hospital. Fortunately, Joe responded well to treatment, and the doctors found that Joe's normally cheerful nature also had a positive effect on his fellow patients. He kicked his drug dependency, and even after he left for California would return voluntarily for his periodic check ups. But his problems with drugs had left a permanent effect on his health, and he was never a completely well man afterwards.

In the end, Joe was never able to pay off his debts. As the years went by the government realized they had gotten everything they could from Joe Louis. Finally they simply accepted payment on current income, leaving the unpaid debt at over two million.

Through most of the 1950's and 60's Joe had been without real work. He managed to make some money with personal appearances on quiz programs like Groucho Marx's You Bet Your Life or Truth or Consequences with Bob Barker. But these were not enough to live on, particularly with a wife, two ex-wives, and kids to support.

Fortunately Joe was a man who as they say had no acquaintances, but only friends. Many of the people whom Joe had helped over the years had prospered and were now in a position to repay his kindness. At one time a boxing show had been arranged, and Joe was on the program. But the receipts didn't meet expenses, and Joe simply told the organizer he would waive his fee. The promoter - a fellow named Frank Sinatra - never forgot Joe's generosity. Now the Chairman of the Board and others of the Las Vegas crowd stepped in to help.

Joe had previous connections to the Mecca of the gambling world. In the 1950's he had been a promoter and casino host or "greeter" at the Moulin Rouge, the first integrated hotel on the Strip. The Moulin had closed in 1955, but in 1971, Joe's friends at Caesar's Palace hired him as their greeter. A sad ending to an iconic twentieth century public figure? Not really. It paid $50,000 a year plus he could gamble up to $5000 in house money each night. This was the time when the minimum bet on most of the games was a dollar. But even then as like as not Joe gave many of his chips away. He met the public, shook their hands, and signed autographs. Joe was gregarious and liked people, and there are a lot worse ways to make a living.

Joe had suffered from heart problems for a number of years. In 1977, he underwent surgery performed by the famous heart surgeon, Michael DeBakey, to repair an aneurism. During his stay, though, he suffered a debiliating stroke. After that he often remained in bed at his home in Las Vegas and used a wheelchair to get aound. He had good days and bad days and could sometimes go to a dinner or sporting event. On April 11, 1981 Joe attended the boxing match between Larry Holmes and Trevor Berbick. Early the next morning he suffered a heart attack. He was rushed to the hospital but died soon afterwards at what was then becoming a fairly young age, 66.

References

Joe Louis: The Great Black Hope, Richard Bax, Taylor Publishing (1995). A very readable biography, gentle but frank. At the time of the writing, there were a number of Joe's friends and family still alive who provided information.

"Joe Louis, 66, Heavyweight King Who Reigned 12 Years, Is Dead", Deane McGowen, New York Times, April 13, 1981

"Joe Louis: The Best Heavyweight Ever!", Monte Cox, Boxing Scene, p. 76 (1992)

You Bet Your Life, Broadcast, June 29, 1950. Joe was a guest on the popular quiz program with Groucho Marx. In the pre-quiz banter, Groucho asked Joe about his various boxing matches including the first one with Max Schmeling (which Joe lost). Joe, of course, responded with good humor. Joe also said the toughest fight was the first fight with Billy Conn and that he didn't remember hardly anything of the first fight with Max.

"The Day Joe Louis Fired Shots Heard 'Round The World", James A. Cox, Smithsonian Magazine, November 1988, p. 170. An excellent article about the fight between Joe and Max in June 1938. Despite being used as a German propaganda tool - although not very successfully - Max had always refused to join the Nazi party, much to Hitler's chagrin. Although you can read it on the Internet, it is true he once hid two Jewish teenagers in his hotel room during the Kristallnacht pogram and his American manager was Jewish. Although the upper echolons of the German government told Max to get a new manager, Max never did.

At the time the Smithsonian article was written, Max was alive and well, and although in his eighties. After the war, Max had become a distributor for Coca-Cola. and eventually rose to high level executive position in the German branch of the company. He died in 2005, age 99.

Related References

Cinderalla Man: James J. Braddock, Max Baer, And The Greatest Upset In Boxing History, Jeremy Schaap. Houghton Mifflin, 2005. Which came first, the book or the movie? Anyway this is the story of James J. Braddock's rise to the heavyweight championship. Jim, with injured hands, losing more fights than he won, and no prospects, took a job as a longshoreman. But when the dock job folded, he had to go on relief. Joe Gould, Jimmy's manager, also went downhill with Jimmy and was begging anyone to give Jimmy a fight. Finally, with only two days notice, Joe was offered a warm up spot for Jimmy on the Primo Carnera/Max Baer ticket. Jimmy would be paired with a fighter named Corn Griffin. Everyone expected Jimmy to be pummeled, but Jimmy won convincingly in three rounds and began his climb to the heavyweight championship, ultimately to lose to Joe Louis. Not exactly a rags to riches story, but Jimmy's life was more a middle-class to well-to-do to rags to riches to back to middle class story.

At a time when racism was still largely an accepted philosophy even in America, Jimmy was completely without prejudice. He hired black sparring partners and employees who lived, ate, and roughhoused with everyone else. Later they had nothing but good to say about their boss. Joe also appreciated Jimmy's attitude, and in later years always greeted Jimmy as "Champ".

The Odds Against Me, John Scarne, Simon & Schuster, (1966). John Scarne puts a bit of a different spin on the Cinderella Man comeback for which he claimed first hand knowledge. Jimmy, John tells us, had learned two weeks in advance about the match and so had time to practice his sparring. The following is John's account.

Between his gigs as a performing sleight of hand magician, John, a long time boyhood friend of Jimmy, would occasionally scout out fighters. He saw Corn Griffin spar with Primo Carnera and recognized Corn's style was similar to that of Tuffy Griffiths who Jimmy had once defeated handily. Corn was scheduled for a warm up match in the Carnera/Baer match, but no opponent had been chosen. John then said he suggested to Primo's manager, Owney Madden, that a well-known, but "washed up" fighter would be a great match for Corn. Who was the fighter, Owney asked. James J. Braddock, replied John. Great idea, said Owney, but keep it mum. We don't want Braddock to have time to get into shape. No problem, said John, and the warm up match was set with Corn and Jimmy.

Naturally John zipped over to Jimmy's house and spilled the beans. Although Jimmy was still in shape from the longshoreman's work, he knew he was ring rusty and so began training in secret at the North Bergen Athletic Club. So when the deal was signed with supposedly only two days notice, Jimmy had been primed with more than a hundred rounds of sparring. Such - at least according to John Scarne - is the genesis of the Cinderella Man.

The trouble is John's story has no confirmation outside his autobiography and the other accounts don't mention Johnny at all. On the other hand, that John was always a close friend of Jimmy is certain, and as far as we know, Jimmy never contradicted John's account. Both the The Odds Against Me and an earlier account in The Amazing World of John Scarne were published during Jimmy's lifetime, and John and Jimmy remained friends and neighbors in North Bergen, New Jersey. At the same time we have to remember, John was also a strong self-promoter and some of his other stories (such as helping Harry Houdini figure a stunt of Houdini's rival, Rahman Bey) also don't gibe with more fully documented accounts.

Oh, yes. For anyone who wants to see Primo Carnera in a non-boxing film, see the movie Mighty Joe Young. Primo, playing himself, was one the strongmen selected to fight Mighty Joe on stage.