Judge Bean holds banned boxing bout in Langastry

A special train rolled into Langtry on Feb. 21, 1896 with 200 passengers, a handful of Texas Rangers and two bewildered boxers looking for a place to fight.

Five days earlier, a frustrated promoter was on the verge of calling the whole thing off, when he received an invitation from Judge Roy Bean. The "Law West of the Pecos" volunteered to host the championship bout at Langtry, where no power on earth could stop the much maligned match.

The 1890's were gay in name only for an angry America bitterly divided by debates over a variety of social and political issues. For example, temperance crusaders finally were making headway in their campaign to put the country on the wagon. Another target of the moral housecleaners was prizefighting, denounced by squeamish critics as a cruel and barbaric spectacle masquerading as sport.

By 1895 Texas was one of the few states that still allowed boxing, a fact which did not escape the attention of a wellknown promoter. Searching for a site for the much anticipated heavyweight title contest featuring champion Gentleman Jim Corbett and challenger Bob Fitzsimmons, Dan Stuart selected Dallas. But Gov. Charles A. Culberson quickly called the legislature into special session, and within 48 hours boxing was banned in the Lone Star State.

Stuart moved the match to Hot Springs only to run into more politically inspired resistance. When Corbett and Fitzsimmons crossed the state line, the Arkansas governor ordered their arrest for conspiracy to commit assault.

Corbett, who wanted no part of the brawler Fitzsimmons, abruptly retired. He agreed to pass the crown onto the winner of a Nevada battle between Peter Maher and a nobody named O'Donnell. After Maher polished off his outclassed opponent, he signed with Dan Stuart to take on Fitzsimmons.

Assuring the promoter that they and not the governor called the shots in El Paso, a group of businessmen urged him to bring his banned bout to Texas' westernmost town. To sweeten the offer, the wellheeled sponsors gave Stuart a $6,000 bonus. The pocket money closed the deal, and the Maher-Fitzsimmons fight was scheduled for Valentine's Day 1896.

Stuart was cut from the same flamboyant cloth as the boxing showmen of today. Nearly a century before multimillion dollar gates and slick publicity stunts, he created coast-to-coast excitement by hawking a weeklong "fistic carnival" with four championship bouts. By Christmas El Paso was crawling with free-spending fans.

The exact location of the main event was shrouded in strictest secrecy to foil any attempt to prevent it. But the wily promoter and his local backers soon found themselves under attack on every front.

The influential Ministers Union of El Paso mobilized their congregations for a direct appeal to Austin. Gov. Culberson responded to their pious petition by dispatching a detachment of Texas Rangers with orders to enforce the boxing ban.

Not to be outdone by his Lone Star counterpart, the Arizona chief executive called out the state militia. To discourage Stuart from sneaking into New Mexico, congress passed emergency legislation outlawing prizefighting in any U.S. territory. Mexican officials in Juarez, sister city of El Paso, put 150 cavalrymen on standby, and army troops at Fort Bliss went on alert in case disappointed ticketholders turned violent.

The unprecedented federal and international cooperation seemed to eliminate every option. As Valentine's Day approached, everyone wondered what Dan Stuart would do.

The promoter reluctantly announced on Feb. 13 the postponement of the heavyweight match. He claimed Maher had been temporarily disabled by a severe inflammation of his eyes. Overnight the scheme collapsed like a house of cards, as the three other bouts were canceled and most of the fans departed in disgust.

Three days later, Judge Roy Bean answered Stuart's prayer. Just bring the show on down to Langtry, the eccentric frontier jurist suggested, and he promised the fight would come off without a hitch.

Bean met the train on Feb. 21 and personally welcomed the paying customers, their Ranger watchdogs and, of course, Stuart and the pair of pugilists to his private fiefdom. Stretching their legs after the 400-mile ride from El Paso, the visitors spotted a makeshift ring on a sandbar in the Mexican half of the Rio Grande.

For an hour, small boats ferried grumbling spectators to their seats. In spite of canvas walls that surrounded the ring to keep onlookers from taking a free peek, the Rangers enjoyed an unobstructed view from the high ground on the Texas side of the river.

After months of headline-grabbing hoopla, the fight was over in a flash. Fitzsimmons landed a haymaker two minutes into the first round, and Maher went down for the count.

The disgruntled fans boarded the train for the dusty trip back to El Paso, and Judge Roy Bean returned to his bench in the Jersey Lily.

"Entertainers" - "Best of This Week in Texas History" Vol. VII available for $10.95 plus $3.25 postage and handling from Bartee Haile, P.O. Box 152, Friendswood, TX 77549 or order online at www.twith.com!