The story of how John Morrissey came by the
nickname of ‘Old Smoke’ offers a glimpse of the life he led. During a brawl
about the affections of a woman, Morrissey’s opponent Tom McCann pushed him
down onto some burning coals and held him against them until his flesh began to
sizzle. His friends jumped to his assistance, poured cold water on the embers
and he recovered enough to beat McCann senseless. Yet to turn 20, the legend of
‘Old Smoke’ was born.
Every July, the attention of horseracing fans in
America turns towards Saratoga for the opening day of a five-week long festival
of thoroughbred racing. The centerpiece of the annual ritual is the Travers
Stakes, the ‘mid-summer Derby’ where the top three year olds are tested over a
mile and a quarter. A century and plenty more after his death, this prestigious
meet is the unique legacy of ‘Old Smoke’ to American sport.
Born in Templemore, County Tipperary on February
12th, 1831, Morrissey’s parents brought him to live in the town of Troy, New
York three years later. In search of a better life, they handed their son his
passport to an epic. By the time he died clutching a priest’s hand at the age
of 47, his financing and construction of the Saratoga Racecourse would merit
just a footnote in a rollicking obituary. A multi-faceted career that began
inauspiciously as a child laborer in a cannonball foundry took in spells as
hired thug, gold-miner, cat burglar, bare-knuckle fighter and esteemed
politician.
Following a violent apprenticeship spent shaking
down newly-arrived Irish emigrants at the New York piers, it was while running
a gambling operation in California that Morrissey began his professional
fighting career in earnest. After collecting $2,000 for a victory over George
Thompson, he met Yankee Sullivan (a native of Bandon, County Cork whose real
name was James Ambrose) in 1853 for the championship of America, an honor many
considered the nearest thing to a legitimate world title at the time.
For 37 rounds, Sullivan, a far superior technician,
pummeled Morrissey so bad that his nose would never recover its original shape.
When battling supporters of both men spilled into the ring however, Sullivan
failed to answer the bell for the start of the 38th in the required time and
the referee awarded Morrissey a dubious victory.
Quickly parlaying his newfound fame into a certain
type of prosperity, he opened a bar and a gambling parlor and gained renown as
the promoter of cockfights. He also deepened his involvement in Tammany Hall
politics, a vicious demi-monde where he could utilize his temper and physique
to good effect.
As Morrissey and his wonderfully-named gang ‘The
Dead Rabbits’ set about achieving hegemony in New York, only the timely
interventions of well-connected friends kept him from serving jail time for a
series of assaults and his role in masterminding the murder of William Poole, a
political rival. For his part in facing down Poole’s anti-Catholic and anti-immigrant
party, the Know-Nothings, he achieved mythic status within the Irish community.
Five years after his ‘defeat’ of Sullivan,
Morrissey emerged from self-imposed retirement to fight John C. Heenan, the son
of another Irish family in Troy. Again, Morrissey’s ability to absorb punches
allowed him to stay in the ring with a more skilled opponent and when Heenan
lost the use of his right hand after hitting it off a corner stake, ‘Old Smoke’
emerged victorious once more.
Unwilling to ride out what had already been a
fortuitous boxing career any longer, he concentrated on his other interests
from then on, quickly building a gambling empire around the card game ‘faro’.
In 1861, he left the tumult of Manhattan behind and moved to the sleepy town of
Saratoga, three hours away.
With $700,000 in cash, he underwent an image
makeover, changing his ways to suit his new improved status and in the process,
becoming a serious political force. He ran a plush, upscale casino called the
Club House, which counted Civil War generals like Sherman and Grant among its
regular clients, and was twice elected a Democratic member of the US Congress.
His transformation was so complete that he eventually played a key role in
bringing down Tammany Hall, the same political machine where he cut his teeth.
“As a politician, Morrissey maintained arms-length
contact with the gangs, brothels, and saloons of his youth, though his personal
manner had become quiet, even genteel,” writes Elliot J. Gorn in his fine book
‘The Manly Art; Bare-knuckle prize fighting in America.’
“Seeking not only power but respectability, he
merged honor with expediency. Morrissey rode the rollercoaster of New York
politics until he died, serving two terms in Congress and two in the State
Senate. More important, his popularity with working men and his organizational
skills made him a power broker in New York City politics. Most newspapers
praised the former pugilist on his death, observing that he had transcended his
rowdy youth to become a useful citizen, a man of shrewdness, rectitude, and
generosity.”
Always conscious of his past though, Morrissey kept
his own name off all official documents when opening Saratoga Racecourse in
1864. Reckoning that his checkered previous life might affect its chances of
success, he appointed William Travers, a respected figure in the horse-breeding
world, the venue’s first president and it is Travers who is commemorated in its
flagship race every August. Still, nearly 150 years after Morrissey had the
wit, not only to build Saratoga but also to employ the new technology of the
telegraph to facilitate off-course punters, his baby continues to thrive.
This year alone, up to one million spectators wagered
an estimated $120m over the five weeks. Even if fifteen thousand watched Morrissey
get buried in a graveyard in Troy, the gambler in ‘Old Smoke’ would surely
consider that sort of betting at his own track the most fitting epitaph of all.
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