My only joust with Jack Doyle, the boxer, was in the lavatory of Paddy Whitty's hospitable tavern, the Lord High Admiral, in Pimlico, London. The man who had earned millions asked me for a loan. A fiver would do nicely if I had it, he said, writes Wesley Boyd.
In those days of the 1960s a journalist such as myself, grubbing in Fleet Street, was lucky to earn £20 a week. A fiver was out of the question. How about a quid? Ten bob then? I parted with one of my few remaining half-crowns so it could not be said I had no regard for the glory of his past. Half-a-crown was good for a couple of drinks.
Honour and thirst satisfied, we parted friends never to meet again. Not long afterwards he was fined £5 for stealing a small portion of cheese from a shop. It was the most humiliating incident in the remarkable life of the fighter, film actor, singer and playboy who at the height of his fame was known the world over as The Gorgeous Gael.
Had he lived, Jack Doyle would have been 90 at the end of this month. Had he watched himself he could have been heavyweight champion of the world. Success came to him early. Born into a working-class family in Cobh, Co Cork, he was a robust six-footer at 16 when he enlisted in the Irish Guards, lying about his age. In the battalion's boxing championships he saw off his three opponents with each bout lasting only one round. With his powerful right hand, he went on to win the championship of the entire Brigade of Guards with a series of quick knockouts.
When he decided to leave the amateur ranks after turning 19 he had an impressive record of 28 wins and no defeats. A succession of quick wins made him a big crowd-puller and put him in line for a tilt at the British heavyweight championship, held by the Welshman Jack Petersen.
All 70,000 seats had been sold when Doyle met in the open-air arena at the White City, London in the summer of 1933. Doyle was anxious to win quickly and had the Welshman staggering from a right swing just at the end of the first round. Petersen hurt Doyle with a rain of punches to the head in the second round. Doyle punched wildly in return, hit Petersen several times below the waistline, and was disqualified. The British Boxing Board of Control suspended him for six months and imposed a fine of £2740 out of his £3000 purse.
Jack claimed that as a result of this "injustice" he lost his enthusiasm for boxing. He began to concentrate on vaudeville appearances. His singing earned him easy money and he released a dozen or so records. In 1935 he starred in an Elstree Studio production, McCluskey the Sea Rover. It was not a memorable performance but it brought the handsome Irishman to the attention of Hollywood. There he appeared in a couple of forgettable films and married the starlet Judith Allen. In America he decided to return to boxing.
As in Britain, he had a few early whirlwind victories and serenaded the audience from the ring. His publicity legend was: "He can sing like John McCormack and box like Jack Dempsey." At Madison Square Garden in New York he got his big chance against Buddy Baer, younger brother of the former world champion, Max Baer. At the opening bell Jack, ever the showman, turned to wave to his wife and Baer took the opportunity to floor him with a vicious right hand. The referee stopped the fight before the end of the first round. A ringside wag remarked: "They got it wrong. He sings like Dempsey and boxes like McCormack." It was the end of the road for Jack's championship hopes.
He drifted between America and Britain and became romantically involved with Delphine Dodge-Godde, heiress to the Dodge motorcar fortunes. Judith divorced him after four years of marriage. Mrs Dodge-Godde's father offered Jack $50,000 dollars to stay away from her. Jack accepted and, still only 26, vowed to devote himself to boxing again.
Back in London his comeback fight ended after one minute when he was disqualified for hitting his opponent when he was down. After another couple of bouts, he decided to chance his luck in America again. At a party he met the Mexican actress Movita and married her in Mexico three days later.
They teamed up as a singing double act and embarked on a tour of variety theatres in the States, Britain and Ireland. At the Olympia in Dublin they were jeered at the beginning of their recital but loudly cheered at its end.
While in Dublin they were married at St. Andrews Church, Westland Row on February 23rd, 1943. Their manager explained that they wanted to have a marriage valid in the eyes of the Church. But the relationship was stormy and in 1945 Movita left him for a promising young actor called Marlon Brando.
Through the years Jack could always attract big crowds when he entered the ring even when they knew the excitement was bound to be short-lived. At Haringey Arena in London he managed to achieve the difficult feat of knocking himself out against Eddie Phillips. In the second round he threw a wild punch at the British champion, missed, plunged through the ropes and was counted out.
In the return contest Jack opted to take a percentage of the gate instead of a fee and earned himself £40,000 for what turned out to be a brief appearance. The fight was over in two minutes when Phillips floored him with a right hook. Peter Wilson of the Mirror reported: "His early Guards training reasserted itself in this crisis, for he lay rigidly to attention while he was being counted out."
It was downhill all the way for Jack in his later years. The Glorious Gael died penniless just before Christmas 1978 in a Notting Hill boarding house, a couple of miles from the Lord High Admiral.