Leach Cross vs. Mexican Joe: A Great Boxing Rivalry Buried in the Sands of Time

Published

2 years ago

June 14, 2023

Leach-Cross-vs-Mexican-Joe-A-Great-Boxing-Rivalry-Buried-in-the-Sands-of-Time

The Jan. 14, 1913 fight between Leach Cross and Mexican Joe Rivers was a humdinger, but for some fight-goers it was a night to forget. The event was oversold. The aisles were jammed with standees and ticket-holders arriving late were left out in the cold when the fire marshal ordered the doors to be shut. Some of those that made it inside discovered that their wallet was missing. In the lobby of the arena and outside on the street, pickpockets worked the crowd to great effect. Such were the hazards of attending a major boxing show in New York during the early years of the twentieth century.

Cross vs. Rivers – the first salvo of a great rivalry – was staged at the Manhattan Casino which was situated on the corner of 155^th Street and Eighth Avenue in the upper reach of Harlem. This warrants a clarification.

The word “casino” has come to be associated with gambling. Back in those days, it carried no such inference. The most salient image was that of a place where couples came to dance to a live orchestra. Harlem hadn’t yet become a signpost of Black America. In 1913, it had a burgeoning population of upwardly mobile Jews who had escaped the tenements of the Lower East Side. And Leach Cross, born Louis Wallach to immigrants from Austria, was one of them, a landsmen.

Cross (pictured) and Mexican Joe were lightweights. No title was at stake when they locked horns that night in Harlem or in any of their subsequent meetings. Indeed, both were considered a notch below the topmost fighters in their weight class. However, it was a very sexy division which owed to two factors. The heavyweight class was bereft of charismatic fighters other than Jack Johnson whose career was in limbo because of legal problems. And in no other division was the talent pool as deep. “In those days,” reminisced the colorful fight manager Dumb Dan Morgan, “there was a good lightweight on every streetcorner.”

The principals: Leach Cross and Mexican Joe Rivers

Leach Cross didn’t look like a fighter. “He had the lean, cadaverous appearance of the professional distance runner who has overtrained,” wrote one reporter. But his appearance was deceiving. Prior to meeting Rivers, he had knocked out Young Otto and One Round Hogan, reputable opponents, and had feathered his cap with a clear 10-round decision over Battling Nelson. True, the Durable Dane was then past his prime, but in his heyday the former two-time lightweight champion was the most talked-about non-heavyweight on the planet.

By and large, young Jewish men were avid fight fans and from a ticket-selling standpoint it mattered greatly that “Leachie” was a member of the tribe. He had another distinction that made him stand out. He was a dentist with a flourishing practice in the Bowery.

Unlike Leach Cross, Mexican Joe Rivers, who turned pro in 1908 at age 16, looked very much like a boxer. Three inches shorter than Cross at five-foot-four, he had a well-defined physique. “Physically,” said a reporter for the Los Angeles Times, “Joe is one of the grandest pieces of furniture ever seen in a ring. His body is the body of a sculptor’s dream.”

Mexican

Mexican Joe had far less experience than Leach Cross but had fought stiffer competition. He had split two fights with future Hall of Famer Johnny Kilbane and with Joe Mandot, the Pride of New Orleans, and had TKOed Frankie Conley, an outstanding fighter from Wisconsin, after their first encounter ended in a draw. His most famous fight had come the previous year against world lightweight champion Ad Wolgast. In the thirteenth round of a 20-round fight, Rivers and Wolgast landed simultaneous knockout punches. Rivers hit the canvas first, Wolgast landing on top of him, whereupon referee Jack Welsh helped the semi-conscious Wolgast to his feet and named him the winner. The queer ending provoked a long-running debate.

Prior to meeting up with Leach Cross, Mexican Joe had fought exclusively in California. The West Coast vs. East Coast angle imbued their fights with a bit more cachet in a day when the country wasn’t as homogenized.

Cross-Rivers I (Jan. 14, 1913)

Those that navigated their way to their assigned seat without incident were treated to a riveting fight. “The bout never lagged,” said a reporter. “Action was rife from start to finish.”

Cross put Rivers on the canvas in the second round, but Rivers — “the hot tamale from out West” in the words of a Connecticut scribe — was never deterred from pressing the action and at the final bell of the 10-rounder, Cross returned to his stool “very distressed.”

This was the no-decision era of boxing in New York. Prizefights were ostensibly sparring exhibitions (wink, wink) and referees were prohibited from naming a winner. Bets were decided based on the verdict of a designated ringside reporter or by the consensus of a panel of reporters whose judgments were culled from the next day’s newspapers. Chalk this one up to Joe Rivers, but softly, as few would have complained if the verdict was returned as a draw.

Cross-Rivers II (April 8, 1913)

Not quite 11 weeks later, Leach Cross and Mexican Joe Rivers had a do-over. The venue was St. Nicholas Arena on 66^th Street, a former indoor ice skating rink. There was no repetition of the hooliganism that had scarred the first meeting. The promoters, the McMahon brothers, Eddie and Jess (the latter was the grandfather of WWE impresario Vince McMahon) were on a short leash and extra security was hired to keep order outside the arena and turn away would-be gate crashers.

Cross and Rivers delivered another crowd-pleaser. The 10-rounder was a “whirlwind battle” wrote the stringer for the Chicago Inter-Ocean.

Many of the rounds were undoubtedly tough to score as one finds a great deal of variation in round-by-round reports. What everyone seemed to agree on, however, is that Cross showed more stamina than in the first meeting, dominating the ninth round and having a shade the best of it in the final stanza. But, in the eyes of New York’s foremost boxing writer Robert Edgren, his rally came too late.

“Rivers won easily” wrote Edgren, the sports editor of the New York Evening World. Rube Goldberg, who would achieve fame as a cartoonist but was then covering fights for the New York Evening Mail, thought otherwise: “It would be unjust to either man to call the fight anything but a draw,” he wrote.

A survey of 11 ringside reporters by the Brooklyn Daily Eagle found that six favored the Mexican, two gave it to Cross and the others had it a draw.

“It seems that only a longer battle will satisfy to determine which is the better man,” said a correspondent for a Buffalo paper. And before the year was out, he got his wish. The Cross-Rivers rivalry went west to Vernon, California, an industrial suburb of Los Angeles, where fights were allowed up to 20 rounds.

Cross-Rivers III (Nov. 27, 1913)

The third meeting between Rivers and Cross created a lot of buzz in the City of Angels. Three days before the Thanksgiving Day battle, on Nov. 24, a joint workout in Vernon attracted a reported crowd of 4,000.

Vernon was Mexico Joe’s turf. He was the “house fighter” at promoter Tom McCarey’s wooden pavilion. Ten of his previous 13 fights took place in this very ring.

Cross-Rivers III started at 3:30 in the afternoon and concluded after sundown with the ring illuminated by lights that were turned on as the fight was in progress.

Rivers knocked Cross to the canvas with a right-left combination in round four and again in round 12, but on each occasion Cross fought back feverishly. In round 19, with Rivers plainly ahead, there was high drama as the match turned sharply in favor of the New Yorker; Cross battered Rivers from pillar to post. But Rivers weathered the storm and, as it turned out, Cross had exhausted all of his bullets. He had no argument when the referee awarded the fight to Mexican Joe.

“It was the greatest battle ever fought in a southern [California] ring,” gushed Harry A. Williams of the LA Times.

Rivers-Wolgast IV (Aug. 11, 1914)

Prizefighters invariably have an alibi to explain why they lost, and Leach Cross had a good one. Seventeen days before the bout, he had fought lightweight champion Willie Ritchie in a non-title 10-rounder at Madison Square Garden and he was still feeling the effects of that hard tussle. “With proper rest,” said Cross, “I would have beaten this guy.”

That was sufficient inducement for promoter McCarey to summon up yet another sequel.

The fourth and final installment of the rivalry was redemption for Leach Cross who was deemed the winner in a bout so absorbing that one of the spectators passed out from all the excitement.

Mexican Joe piled up points in the early rounds, but he lost some of the steam on his punches after suffering a bad cut on his lower lip in round five. Rivers landed the best punch of the fight in round 18, a left hook to the jaw, but he got discouraged when Cross stayed upright and failed to press his advantage. Had he done so, he would have likely pulled the fight out of the fire as the match very close.

How close was it? “Cross won by a shade as fine as that cast by a single strand of a spider’s web on a foggish day,” said the ringside reporter for the Los Angeles Evening Express.

And that was that; 60 rounds of boxing spread across 20 months with interruptions for a slew of intervening fights and when it was all over, one couldn’t say that one man was plainly superior. As rivalries go, Cross vs. Rivers will never rank with boxing’s most storied multi-fight rivalries, but it was chock full of pregnant moments.

Postscripts

Leach Cross was a wealthy man when he retired from boxing in 1916. With his ring earnings he purchased an 80-unit apartment building in Hollywood. He disposed of his California real estate holdings following the stock market crash of 1929, resumed his dental practice in New York, and kept his hand in the fight game as a referee and a judge. He was well-off financially when he passed away in 1957.

Mexican Joe Rivers had his last fight in 1924 in the Los Angeles County community of San Fernando. It was a 4-rounder which was all that the law allowed after voters in the Golden State had approved a constitutional amendment to abolish prizefighting in the November elections of 1914. When things were going good, Joe lived high. He owned a big touring car, expensive jewelry, and dozens of custom-made suits. In 1955, when he was 63 years old, a reporter for the Los Angeles Times found him living alone in a windowless room in a flophouse hotel, his only possession a 200-year-old violin passed down from his father. The reporter discovered that Mexican Joe wasn’t actually a Mexican. A fourth-generation Californian, born Jose Ybarra, Joe was of Spanish and Mission Indian stock.

Arne K. Lang’s third boxing book, titled “George Dixon, Terry McGovern and the Culture of Boxing in America, 1890-1910,” rolled off the press in September of last year. Published by McFarland, the book can be ordered directly from the publisher or via Amazon.

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Arne K. Lang

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Sam Goodman and Eccentric Harry Garside Score Wins on a Wednesday Card in Sydney

Published

1 day ago

May 14, 2025

Arne K. Lang

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Australian junior featherweight Sam Goodman, ranked #1 by the IBF and #2 by the WBO, returned to the ring today in Sydney, NSW, and advanced his record to 20-0 (8) with a unanimous 10-round decision over Mexican import Cesar Vaca (19-2). This was Goodman’s first fight since July of last year. In the interim, he twice lost out on lucrative dates with Japanese superstar Naoya Inoue. Both fell out because of cuts that Goodman suffered in sparring.

Goodman was cut again today and in two places – below his left eye in the eighth and above his right eye in the ninth, the latter the result of an accidental head butt – but by then he had the bout firmly in control, albeit the match wasn’t quite as one-sided as the scores (100-90, 99-91, 99-92) suggested. Vaca, from Guadalajara, was making his first start outside his native country.

Goodman, whose signature win was a split decision over the previously undefeated American fighter Ra’eese Aleem, is handled by the Rose brothers — George, Trent, and Matt — who also handle the Tszyu brothers, Tim and Nikita, and two-time Olympian (and 2021 bronze medalist) Harry Garside who appeared in the semi-wind-up.

Harry Garside

A junior welterweight from a suburb of Melbourne, Garside, 27, is an interesting character. A plumber by trade who has studied ballet, he occasionally shows up at formal gatherings wearing a dress.

Garside improved to 4-0 (3 KOs) as a pro when the referee stopped his contest with countryman Charlie Bell after five frames, deciding that Bell had taken enough punishment. It was a controversial call although Garside — who fought the last four rounds with a cut over his left eye from a clash of heads in the opening frame – was comfortably ahead on the cards.

Heavyweights

In a slobberknocker being hailed as a shoo-in for the Australian domestic Fight of the Year, 34-year-old bruisers Stevan Ivic and Toese Vousiutu took turns battering each other for 10 brutal rounds. It was a miracle that both were still standing at the final bell. A Brisbane firefighter recognized as the heavyweight champion of Australia, Ivic (7-0-1, 2 KOs) prevailed on scores of 96-94 and 96-93 twice. Melbourne’s Vousiuto falls to 8-2.

Tim Tsyzu.

The oddsmakers have installed Tim Tszyu a small favorite (minus-135ish) to avenge his loss to Sebastian Fundora when they tangle on Sunday, July 20, at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.

Their first meeting took place in this same ring on March 30 of last year. Fundora, subbing for Keith Thurman, saddled Tszyu with his first defeat, taking away the Aussie’s WBO 154-pound world title while adding the vacant WBC belt to his dossier. The verdict was split but fair. Tszyu fought the last 11 rounds with a deep cut on his hairline that bled profusely, the result of an errant elbow.

Since that encounter, Tszyu was demolished in three rounds by Bakhram Murtazaliev in Orlando and rebounded with a fourth-round stoppage of Joey Spencer in Newcastle, NSW. Fundora has been to post one time, successfully defending his belts with a dominant fourth-round stoppage of Chordale Booker.

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Thomas Hauser’s Literary Notes: Johnny Greaves Tells a Sad Tale

Published

4 days ago

May 11, 2025

Thomas Hauser

Johnny Greaves was a professional loser. He had one hundred professional fights between 2007 and 2013, lost 96 of them, scored one knockout, and was stopped short of the distance twelve times. There was no subtlety in how his role was explained to him: “Look, Johnny; professional boxing works two ways. You’re either a ticket-seller and make money for the promoter, in which case you get to win fights. If you don’t sell tickets but can look after yourself a bit, you become an opponent and you fight to lose.”

By losing, he could make upwards of one thousand pounds for a night‘s work.

Greaves grew up with an alcoholic father who beat his children and wife. Johnny learned how to survive the beatings, which is what his career as a fighter would become. He was a scared, angry, often violent child who was expelled from school and found solace in alcohol and drugs.

The fighters Greaves lost to in the pros ran the gamut from inept local favorites to future champions Liam Walsh, Anthony Crolla, Lee Selby, Gavin Rees, and Jack Catterall. Alcohol and drugs remained constants in his life. He fought after drinking, smoking weed, and snorting cocaine on the night before – and sometimes on the day of – a fight. On multiple occasions, he came close to committing suicide. His goal in boxing ultimately became to have one hundred professional fights.

On rare occasions, two professional losers – “journeymen,” they’re called in The UK – are matched against each other. That was how Greaves got three of the four wins on his ledger. On September 29, 2013, he fought the one hundredth and final fight of his career against Dan Carr in London’s famed York Hall. Carr had a 2-42-2 ring record and would finish his career with three wins in ninety outings. Greaves-Carr was a fight that Johnny could win. He emerged triumphant on a four-round decision.

The Johnny Greaves Story, told by Greaves with the help of Adam Darke (Pitch Publishing) tells the whole sordid tale. Some of Greaves’s thoughts follow:

* “We all knew why we were there, and it wasn’t to win. The home fighters were the guys who had sold all the tickets and were deemed to have some talent. We were the scum. We knew our role. Give some young prospect a bit of a workout, keep out of the way of any big shots, lose on points but take home a wedge of cash, and fight again next week.”

* “If you fought too hard and won, then you wouldn’t get booked for any more shows. If you swung for the trees and got cut or knocked out, then you couldn’t fight for another 28 days. So what were you supposed to do? The answer was to LOOK like you were trying to win but be clever in the process. Slip and move, feint, throw little shots that were rangefinders, hold on, waste time. There was an art to this game, and I was quickly learning what a cynical business it was.”

* “The unknown for the journeyman was always how good your opponent might be. He could be a future world champion. Or he might be some hyped-up nightclub bouncer with a big following who was making lots of money for the promoter.”

* “No matter how well I fought, I wasn’t going to be getting any decisions. These fights weren’t scored fairly. The referees and judges understood who the paymasters were and they played the game. What was the point of having a go and being the best version of you if nobody was going to recognize or reward it?”

* “When I first stepped into the professional arena, I believed I was tough. believed that nobody could stop me. But fight by fight, those ideas were being challenged and broken down. Once you know that you can be hurt, dropped and knocked out, you’re never quite the same fighter.”

* “I had started off with a dream, an idea of what boxing was and what it would do for me. It was going to be a place where I could prove my toughness. A place that I could escape to and be someone else for a while. For a while, boxing was that place. But it wore me down to the point that I stopped caring. I’d grown sick and tired of it all. I wished that I could feel pride at what I’d achieved. But most of the time, I just felt like a loser.”

* “The fights were getting much more difficult, the damage to my body and my psyche taking longer and longer to repair after each defeat. I was putting myself in more and more danger with each passing fight. I was getting hurt more often and stopped more regularly. Even with the 28-day [suspensions], I didn’t have time to heal. I was staggering from one fight to the next and picking up more injuries along the way.”

* “I was losing my toughness and resilience. When that’s all you’ve ever had, it’s a hard thing to accept. Drink and drugs had always been present in my life. But now they became a regular part of my pre-fight preparation. It helped to shut out the fear and quieted the thoughts and worries that I shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”

* “My body was broken. My hands were constantly sore with blisters and cuts. I had early arthritis in my hip and my teeth were a mess. I looked an absolute state and inside I felt worse. But I couldn’t stop fighting yet. Not before the 100.”

* “I had abused myself time after time and stood in front of better men, taking a beating when I could have been sensible and covered up. At the start, I was rarely dropped or stopped. Now it was becoming a regular part of the game. Most of the guys I was facing were a lot better than me. This was mainly about survival.”

* “Was my brain f***ed from taking too many punches? I knew it was, to be honest. I could feel my speech changing and memory going. I was mentally unwell and shouldn’t have been fighting but the promoters didn’t care. Johnny Greaves was still a good booking. Maybe an even better one now that he might get knocked out.”

* “Nobody gave a f*** about me and whether I lived or died. I didn’t care about that much either. But the thought of being humiliated, knocked out in front of all those people; that was worse than the thought of dying. The idea of being exposed for what I was – a nobody.”

* “I was a miserable bastard in real life. A depressive downbeat mouthy little f***er. Everything I’ve done has been to mask the feeling that I’m worthless. That I have no value. The drinks and the drugs just helped me to forget that for a while. I still frighten myself a lot. My thoughts scare me. Do I really want to be here for the next thirty or forty years? I don’t know. If suicide wasn’t so impactful on people around you, I would have taken that leap. I don’t enjoy life and never have.”

So . . . Any questions?

****

Steve Albert was Showtime’s blow-by-blow commentator for two decades. But his reach extended far beyond boxing.

Albert’s sojourn through professional sports began in high school when he was a ball boy for the New York Knicks. Over the years, he was behind the microphone for more than a dozen teams in eleven leagues including four NBA franchises.

Putting the length of that trajectory in perspective . . . As a ballboy, Steve handed bottles of water and towels to a Knicks back-up forward named Phil Jackson. Later, they worked together as commentators for the New Jersey Nets. Then Steve provided the soundtrack for some of Jackson’s triumphs when he won eleven NBA championships as head coach of the Chicago Bulls and Los Angeles Lakers.

It’s also a matter of record that Steve’s oldest brother, Marv, was arguably the greatest play-by-play announcer in NBA history. And brother Al enjoyed a successful career behind the microphone after playing professional hockey.

Now Steve has written a memoir titled A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Broadcast Booth. Those who know him know that Steve doesn’t like to say bad things about people. And he doesn’t here. Nor does he delve into the inner workings of sports media or the sports dream machine. The book is largely a collection of lighthearted personal recollections, although there are times when the gravity of boxing forces reflection.

“Fighters were unlike any other professional athletes I had ever encountered,” Albert writes. “Many were products of incomprehensible backgrounds, fiercely tough neighborhoods, ghettos and, in some cases, jungles. Some got into the sport because they were bullied as children. For others, boxing was a means of survival. In many cases, it was an escape from a way of life that most people couldn’t even fathom.”

At one point, Steve recounts a ringside ritual that he followed when he was behind the microphone for Showtime Boxing: “I would precisely line up my trio of beverages – coffee, water, soda – on the far edge of the table closest to the ring apron. Perhaps the best advice I ever received from Ferdie [broadcast partner Ferdie Pacheco] was early on in my blow-by-blow career – ‘Always cover your coffee at ringside with an index card unless you like your coffee with cream, sugar, and blood.’”

Writing about the prelude to the infamous Holyfield-Tyson “bite fight,” Albert recalls, “I remember thinking that Tyson was going to do something unusual that night. I had this sinking feeling in my gut that he was going to pull something exceedingly out of the ordinary. His grousing about Holyfield’s head butts in the first fight added to my concern. [But] nobody could have foreseen what actually happened. Had I opened that broadcast with, ‘Folks, tonight I predict that Mike Tyson will bite off a chunk of Evander Holyfield’s ear,’ some fellas in white coats might have approached me and said, ‘Uh, Steve, could you come with us.'”

And then there’s my favorite line in the book: “I once asked a fighter if he was happily married,” Albert recounts. “He said, ‘Yes, but my wife’s not.'”

“All I ever wanted was to be a sportscaster,” Albert says in closing. “I didn’t always get it right, but I tried to do my job with honesty and integrity. For forty-five years, calling games was my life. I think it all worked out.”

Thomas Hauser’s email address is thomashauserwriter@gmail.com. His next book – The Most Honest Sport: Two More Years Inside Boxing – will be published this month and is available for preorder at:

https://www.amazon.com/Most-Honest-Sport-Inside-Boxing/dp/1955836329

In 2019, Hauser was selected for boxing’s highest honor – induction into the International Boxing Hall of Fame.

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Argentina’s Fernando Martinez Wins His Rematch with Kazuto Ioka

Published

4 days ago

May 11, 2025

Arne K. Lang

Argentina's-Fernando-Martinez-Wins-His-Rematch-with-Kazuto-Ioka

In an excellent fight climaxed by a furious 12^th round, Argentina’s Fernando Daniel Martinez came off the deck to win his rematch with Kazuto Ioka and retain his piece of the world 115-pound title. The match was staged at Ioka’s familiar stomping grounds, the Ota-City General Gymnasium in Tokyo.

In their first meeting on July 7 of last year in Tokyo, Martinez was returned the winner on scores of 117-111, 116-112, and a bizarre 120-108. The rematch was slated for late December, but Martinez took ill a few hours before the weigh-in and the bout was postponed.

The 33-year-old Martinez, who came in sporting a 17-0 (9) record, was a 7-2 favorite to win the sequel, but there were plenty of reasons to favor Ioka, 36, aside from his home field advantage. The first Japanese male fighter to win world titles in four weight classes, Ioka was 3-0 in rematches and his long-time trainer Ismael Salas was on a nice roll. Salas was 2-0 last weekend in Times Square, having handled upset-maker Rolly Romero and Reito Tsutsumi who was making his pro debut.

But the fourth time was not a charm for Ioka (31-4-1) who seemingly pulled the fight out of the fire in round 10 when he pitched the Argentine to the canvas with a pair of left hooks, but then wasn’t able to capitalize on the momentum swing.

Martinez set a fast pace and had Ioka fighting off his back foot for much of the fight. Beginning in round seven, Martinez looked fatigued, but the Argentine was conserving his energy for the championship rounds. In the end, he won the bout on all three cards: 114-113, 116-112, 117-110.

Up next for Fernando Martinez may be a date with fellow unbeaten Jesse “Bam” Rodriguez, the lineal champion at 115. San Antonio’s Rodriguez is a huge favorite to keep his title when he defends against South Africa’s obscure Phumelela Cafu on July 19 in Frisco, Texas.

As for Ioka, had he won today’s rematch, that may have gotten him over the hump in so far as making it into the International Boxing Hall of Fame. True, winning titles in four weight classes is no great shakes when the bookends are only 10 pounds apart, but Ioka is still a worthy candidate.

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