BILLY CONN – THE ONE AND ONLY PITTSBURGH KID

BY ANGELO PROSPERO

BOXING WRITER AND HISTORIAN

When Billy Conn was thirteen years old, his father, an employee of the infamous steel mills of Pittsburgh, took his son down to his place of employment. These ugly denizens of despair along the Monongahela River produced most of the steel in the United States before the U.S. rebuilt the Japanese steel mills after World War II.

They were dark, dirty places, an eyesore on the landscape, but they provided jobs for thousands of Irish and Poles. The stinking soot and grime from the smokestacks turned the city into a darkened cloud. At noontime, it looked like midnight.

Already, the elder Mr. Conn was suffering the signs of Black Lung disease after years of working in a hot, sweat filled foundry.

“Don’t ever end up in this place,” the elder Conn pleaded to his offspring.

Young Bill heeded these words well and at age 14, the scrawny 125 lb. Irishman was hanging out at the various gyms begging trainers to teach him rudiments of the fight game. He loved the aura of the smoke filled sweaty gyms, the sparring and the training.

The following year he caught the eye of Pittsburgh’s leading trainer, Johnny Ray, and was an apt, dedicated pupil. It was a relationship that would lead Billy Conn to super stardom and, in my opinion, the greatest light heavyweight of all times.

Why?

First of all, he was tall and strong with a great chin. He could match up size-wise with any contemporary in a tale of the tape. His left jab was like a rapier and Joe Louis called his left hook, the fastest he had ever seen. His combinations were a staccato of lightning strikes, his defense was almost impenetrable. Outside of a soporific punch, he was the complete package, a dream fighter.

Billy Conn also possessed another intangible. He was fearless and confident.

At age 16 after a year of training, he begged his manager for a couple of amateur fights. “The heck with the amateurs, you can’t learn anything fighting them,” responded Johnny Ray.

So at age 16 and ten months, in 1935, Billy Conn had his first pro fight, losing to an experienced 25 year-old, Dick Woodward. After the fight, Ray gave Billy a dollar and fifty cents. “Hey,” yelled Conn, “I was supposed to get two bucks and a half.” “You lost, didn’t you?” replied Ray.

Billy lost a couple more fights in 1935, but by 1937 he had developed into a solid 147 pounds pro and reeled off several consecutive wins including a 1936 win over a hometown rival. The other outstanding Pittsburgh professional was future welterweight champ, Fritzie Zivic, who knew all the filthy tricks of the trade and used them all.

Zivic and Conn, who disliked each other intensely, were matched in December 1936 for the mythical Pittsburgh bragging rights. In round one, Zivic gave Conn a sample of the laces on his gloves and said, “How do you like that, Mick?” In round two, Conn retaliated with a blow to the groin. “How’s that, Croat?” he shouted. No one intimidated Billy Conn. After that, Zivic fought according to the rules and Billy won a decision. Zivic was the first of ten champions to fall before the new Pittsburgh sensation.

In 1937, Billy Conn began an onslaught against the top middleweights of the day. His list of opponents was impressive and staggering. No soft touches for him, a virtual who’s who in two divisions.

Another reason for the greatness and high ranking of Billy Conn was the caliber of opposition he faced. He beat the champions, the contenders, the punchers, the cuties and the black fighters no one else wanted to face. From 1937-1941, he ducked no one.

Besides Zivic, other champions he beat were Babe Risko, Vince Dundee, Teddy Yarosz, Young Corbett, Solly Krieger, Fred Apostoli, Melio Bettina, Gus Lesnevich and Tony Zale.

The year 1939 found Conn at his peak. In two sensational fights at Madison Square Garden before capacity crowds of 18,000 fans, he decisioned Fred Apostoli, the San Francisco bellhop who later became middleweight champion. “The hardest body puncher I have ever faced,” claimed Conn. The two foes shouted racial epithets at each other for 25 rounds. The fans loved their slashing styles and non-stop action. They were two great fighters, handsome as movie stars in their prime. Later, they became great friends.

One of the spectators at the first Apostoli fight was Mary Louise smith, Billy’s girlfriend, one of the most beautiful girls in America. She was a student at a convent school in Philadelphia and Billy would sneak the 18 year-old beauty and her classmates into the fights.

Mary Louise’s father was Jimmy Smith, the fiery second baseman of the 1917 World Champion New York Giants. He had a quick temper and would fight at the drop of a hat. To say he didn’t approve of the Billy-Mary Louise relationship would be putting it mildly. “I’ll never allow that pug to marry my daughter,” he bellowed.

Billy Conn then went after the light heavyweights; gaining the championship by beating Melio Bettina of Beacon, New York and repeating it in a return engagement. The other challenger in the division was Gus Lesnevich and Conn decisioned him twice within six months. The second fight was a shutout.

Billy’s cut after the second Lesnevich fight after expenses was $15,000. “You can have the title now, Gus, I’m going after Joe Louis, the heavyweight and big money,” said Billy.

Billy Conn fought ten heavyweights and the only one to beat him was Joe Louis. This, despite weighing only 169.

The number one heavyweight contender was Bob Pastor who had just fought a great title fight against Louis, losing in ten rounds. In over fifty fights he had been stopped only once, by Louis. Pastor and Conn were matched for a 15 round elimination bout at Madison Square Garden.

In a furious fight, Conn knocked Pastor out in thirteen sensational rounds. He was now number one heavyweight contender by Ring Magazine, the Bible of Boxing. He also took time off to elope with Mary Louise Smith, much to the dismay of her father.

While champion Joe Louis was completing his “Bum of the Month” campaign, Conn kept busy defeating six heavyweights including Lee Savold and Gus Dorazio.

Finally Louis and Conn signed for their memorable fight on June 18, 1941. It was a classic.

For twelve rounds, Billy Conn was at his masterful best using his vaunted left jab and hook. Louis kept shuffling forward trying to land his feared right hand that had kayoed so many opponents. Round twelve was Conn’s finest as he actually staggered the champ and he went back to his corner at the end of the round raising his right hand triumphantly.

Round thirteen was more of the same for two minutes with Conn getting the better of furious exchanges. Then, in one careless moment, he dropped his guard and Louis landed a vicious right to the chin. Conn’s legs turned to rubber and Louis, the master finisher, sensing victory threw ten punches. All of them, including two perfect uppercuts, landed squarely. Billy Conn fell and was counted out. His valiant effort as a 4-1 underdog had ended.

When I once interviewed Conn at his Pittsburgh home, I asked him why he had decided to slug with the feared Brown Bomber instead of boxing the last three rounds, especially when he was leading on the scorecards. He said, “I found out before the fight my mom was terminally ill and I promised her a knockout.”

The Louis fight brought instant stardom to Billy Conn. He was featured in magazine articles, radio interviews and even Hollywood beckoned for the sexy, handsome, dashing general of the ring. He made a movie, called naturally,” The Pittsburgh Kid.”

Also, the fight world demanded a return bout and promoter Mike Jacobs scheduled the two for a November 1942 fight. Then tragedy struck. At a christening party for Billy and Mary Louise’s first born Tim, Billy Conn and father-in-law Jimmy Smith got into a fight. Billy broke his right hand and the proposed return had to be postponed. The Unites States entered World War II after Pearl Harbor, Billy and Joe went into service and Secretary of War, Henry Stinson, banned all title fights and the elusive return bout had to wait four years.

Unfortunately, four years in the service during WWII took away most of his skills and in the long awaited rematch with Joe Louis; he lost on an eight round kayo. Louis was the only boxer ever to knock out Billy.

“That’s it,” he said, “The pool cue is back in the rack.” Except for a couple of fights in 1948, he never fought again.

They never had to hold any benefits for Billy Conn. He invested his money wisely thanks to the advice of Art Rooney, millionaire owner of the Pittsburgh Steelers. He took the money from the films of the second Louis fight and bought a beautiful five bedroom home in the prestigious Squirrel Hill section of Pittsburgh where he and Mary Louise raised their four children.

Billy Conn never had to work again. Well, almost. He did take a similar job as Joe Louis had shilling for Caesar’s Palace. Billy worked at the Stardust, meeting and greeting the customers. He used to banter with the great Brown Bomber. “Joe, you had the title for twelve years. Couldn’t you have let me have it for six months?” Louis deadpanned back, “you had the title for twelve rounds and didn’t know what to do with it. How could you keep it for six months?” The two became great friends and were a mutual admiration society.

Meeting people wasn’t Billy’s strongest asset. Often he could be found in a corner reading a newspaper. Eventually, he quit his $100,000 a year job. He would rather be back with the guys in Pittsburgh, a city he loved and who loved him. Recently, they named a street after him. He is still considered the Steel City’s greatest athlete and favorite son.

They called him the “Pittsburgh Kid.” A few years ago the city rebelled when a nefarious character, lightweight Paul Spadafora tried to usurp that title. There’s only one Pittsburgh Kid, Billy Conn. His kind comes along once in a lifetime.

Archie Moore, Bob Foster, Ezzard Charles, Floyd Patterson – were all great light-heavyweights. But there’s only one Billy Conn, the greatest light heavyweight of all times.

Billy Conn died in 1993 at age 75.