Gentleman Jim Corbett, Chrysanthemum Joe and the Bloody Battle on the Barge

By Jim Lessenger

“THE PROFESSOR” JIM CORBETT — later known as Gentleman Jim or Pompadour Jim — fought Joe Choynski, aka The California Terror, Little Joe, Chrysanthemum Joe and The Fighting Jew, on a wheat barge anchored off Benicia on the Contra Costa-Solano County line in the Carquinez Strait on June 5, 1889.

But while it was one of the biggest, the Barge Fight, as it became known throughout the 19th-century boxing world, was not the first boxing match in Benicia, a working-class town that sported a race track, at least two cock fighting rings and duck shooting off the roof of one of its better brothels, now a restaurant.

The Benicia Boy

The boxing cult hero of Benicia was John C. Heenan, the Benicia Boy, who was arguably the best-known American fighter before John L. Sullivan. Heenan fought Tom Sayers, the British champion, at Farnborough, England, in 1860, putting Benicia on the map, though Heenan wound up on the mat.

In the bare-knuckle match, Sayers put a straight left into the Benicia Boy’s forehead, causing a large, bleeding gap that partially blinded him and resulted in the Boy decking two of Sayers’s seconds and three spectators. Heenan tried to strangle Sayers on the ring ropes but was thwarted when English partisans pulled him off, landing their own blows in the process.

The referee, who had disappeared earlier for a drink, was found and through an alcoholic haze deemed the fight a draw.

The Professor and the Terror

Both Corbett and Choynski were products of the Olympic Club of San Francisco, a famous nursery of athletes that still exists, having been rebuilt after the Great Earthquake. The Professor, still an amateur at the time, was known for his technical skills — science, it was called at the time — involving pirouetting, fluttering, toe-dancing, darting and peppering his opponent with punches. It was rumored that he had a college education, but he was called the Professor because of his scientific fighting style and the fact that he could read.

The California Terror was born in San Francisco. Well educated and from a scholarly family, Choynski was a solid fighter who could take punches and return with a deadly right-left combination.

The Irish and the Poles

There were ethnic and religious overtones to the contest. Corbett and his supporters were hard-drinking, hard-fighting Catholic Irish, many of them immigrants. Joe Choynski was the son of a Polish Jew. His father, Isador Nathan Choynski, a raconteur, antiquarian bookman, was publisher and acid-pen journalist of his own newspaper, The Public Opinion. The elder Choynski was what historians later called the muckraking gadfly of 19th-century San Francisco life.

Though he never captured the heavyweight title, in his long career the California Terror fought six world champions: Jim Corbett, John L. Sullivan, Bob Fitzsimmons, Jim Jeffries, Marvin Hart and Jack Johnson. He drew much of his support in the Jewish and Polish immigrant communities of the big cities.

The Professor shoots off his mouth

Before the fight, Corbett got a big head and started to shoot off his mouth about his greatness, his Irish allies joining him in the chorus. In turn, Choynski’s faction hurled insults at Professor Corbett and his father, until the latter ordered his son into action against the Terror and his associates.

The fight was on.

The Rumble in Marin

Prizefighting was felonious in 1889. The California Legislature at the time lacked understanding about the tax income value of boxing and looked upon the sale of tickets to a prizefight as a crime. So a purse was raised and, sworn to secrecy, hundreds of San Francisco sports crossed the Golden Gate straits on the morning of May 30, 1889, and crowded into a barn in Fairfax.

The local sheriff, seeing a long line of city dandies in carts or on horses, suspected either a lynching or a prizefight. A sheriff’s posse was formed to follow the chain to its source, confiscating side bets along the way and sliding the cash into their own pockets as they sportingly turned loose the sinful and illegal gamblers. Corbett and Choynski switched from two-once to sixteen-once gloves in an effort to convince the deputies that they were just holding sparring exercises, but it didn’t work and the deputies rounded up the usual suspects.

The war of words continued in the Olympic Club and spilled out into the surrounding streets and taverns of the Tenderloin. An “amphibious assault” was called for. It was decided to go to sea, and the result was what sportswriter Alva Johnson called the most picturesque land-and-sea action since the Texas cavalry captured the Mexican Navy in 1836.

The ‘amphibious assault’

Benicia was chosen because of its exceptional anchorage and the fact that it was close to the Contra Costa-Solano county line. The sports reasoned that the location would cause confusion in the minds of the county sheriffs, who would spend the time of the fight arguing over jurisdiction instead of chasing honest prizefighting spectators. In addition, as the Benicia constabulary were allegedly busy all night policing the waterfront and known to never rise before mid-afternoon, the fight was scheduled for sunrise.

In his autobiography, “The Roar of the Crowd,” Corbett tells of traveling by train the night before the fight to the little country town called Benicia. He stayed with the Mizners, the great baronial family of Benicia whose home held the first indoor outhouse in California, a fact celebrated with a grand party upon its installation. Yet another Benicia first.

The five Mizner boys were the great-nephews of Dr. Robert Semple, dentist and pioneer who had created Benicia — who had, in fact, practically created California. Papa was Lansing Mizner, lawyer, politician, railroad promoter, land speculator and presiding officer of the California Senate for many years. There were long-suffering daughters who cared for Mama Mizner into her old age.

A brief interlude to remember Wilson Mizner

The black sheep and the youngest son was Wilson Mizner. Inspired by the Barge Fight, he later became — in no particular order — a prizefighter, fight promoter, playwright, poet, pimp, Klondike prospector, hotel owner, brothel owner, bartender, bar owner, gigolo, fraud, card sharp, card dealer for Wyatt Earp, friend of Bat Masterson, opium addict, opium salesman, antique importer and raconteur. Once he married a widowed matron five decades older than himself and conspired to steal her jewelry.

Wilson was the author of “Deep Purple” and other famous Broadway plays. His four brothers spent a significant amount of their time and money over 30 years bailing Wilson out of jail so Mama Mizner wouldn’t worry about her little boy.

Among the more respectable family members, older brother Addison Mizner became a world-renowned architect who pioneered the neo-Spanish-colonial architecture of Boca Raton and Palm Beach — and, later, California.

North to Benicia and the Benicia Navy

San Francisco sports hired a wheat barge, named the Excel, and hauled it over the bay to Benicia to be placed squarely on the county line, three football fields off Nickel — now Dillon — point. Two hundred sports sworn to secrecy gathered at the San Francisco waterfront at 1 a.m. on June 5 and boarded the tugs Sea Queen and Richmond. The plan to hold the fight at sunrise hit a snag when the tugs got stuck in the mud off Nickel Point. The sports were transferred to rowboats and then had to make the dangerous scramble up the sides of the barge. Two important politicians of the day, J. J. Kenny and Phil Crimmins, fell into the bay and were nearly drowned when their Whitehall boat, the F. G. Wilson, capsized. Carpenters were called to re-plank the splintered deck of the barge, adding to further delay.

The word got out and hundreds of Benicia residents roused themselves from their slumbers and enlisted the Benicia Navy in an exodus to the barge. Row boats, skiffs, and fishing boats carried the residents out to the increasingly crowded Excel.

Patsey Hogan, himself a bare-knuckle Irish pugilist and a member of the Olympic Club, was elected referee. Also aboard the Sea Queen was Jack Dempsey, a fighter destined for future greatness, and Sheriff Haley of Marin County, who had stopped the previous fight in Fairfax.

At exactly six in the morning, a sailboat arrived from Benicia with Choynski, Graney Gorman, Referee Hogan, physician William Mizner — older brother of Wilson and Addison — and Ed Hoyt, a Benicia sport. At 6:12 Corbett and his seconds, Billy Delaney and Jim Carr, came from an adjoining stern-wheel steam boat lying about 100 yards away. The contestants and their entourages joined about 250 spectators on the barge that was in turn surrounded by dozens of boats of the Benicia Navy bobbing in the straits.

It was then discovered that there was only one set of gloves, and they were brought by Corbett. The seconds, managers, referee and others parleyed. There was considerable talk of forfeiture until Corbett, dressed in boxing shorts, angrily interrupted, “I am getting cold. Let the fight come off. I will waive all claim.” It was finally agreed that Corbett would wear his two-once gloves and Choynski would wear kid gloves used for driving carriages that were donated by a spectator.

Hogan gave Choynski the kid gloves saying that Corbett waived all claims and that he had to take the gloves to fight with. Hogan launched into a speech — cut short by cat-calls — stating that he was going to be neutral and honest, unlike previous fights where he was roundly criticized for some of his calls. He then announced that he would strictly enforce the Marquis of Queensberry rules, despite the differences in gloves that seemingly gave Choynski the edge.

The Barge Fight

At twelve minutes before 7 o’clock in the morning, the crowd quieted and the men were ordered to shake hands and get ready. The bell rang.

For twenty-seven rounds the fighters sparred and pummeled each other in the ring that had been loaned by the Golden Gate Athletic Club. Choynski mostly stood his ground, while Corbett ducked and weaved, landing powerful left hooks into Choynski’s face. The Terror responded with bone-crushing body blows to the Professor’s ribs. Corbett drew blood when a right-left combination broke Choynski’s nose.

It must have been a great day by the bay. The crowd on the barge and on the surrounding boats of the Benicia Navy roared at each blow, giving unheeded recommendations to the boxers on how to hit and insulting the ancestry of the fighters, seconds, and referee. Imagine, if you will, men chomping on cigars placing bets on each blow, round, and for the match, and winning or losing great sums of money.

While the crowd on the barge was fairly well mannered, several side fights broke out on the ships of the Benicia Navy and side bets were placed on those. Newspaper accounts reported that thousands of dollars changed hands that day.

In the 17th round, Choynski came up with a red and puffed face, with blood running from nose and mouth and bubbling at every breath drawn. Corbett battered Choynski’s face until the Terror caught Corbett under the left eye with a straight left, staggering the Professor. “Good boy, Joe,” yelled the crowd.

An unnamed heroic sports reporter for the Daily Alta California — there were no bylines in that day — sat at ringside and recorded every blow, adding to the historic record. The seconds and managers, dressed in suits and bowler hats, continued a war of words over the gloves, purse and other issues. The sports were betting on Corbett to win and offered $25 at 2 to 1.

Choynski’s battered nose started to spurt blood by the 26th round, but Corbett was tiring. Still, the constant dancing and feints of Corbett were taking a toll and forcing the Terror into the center of the ring, where he slipped on his own blood. It was later suggested that had the fight been held at the Marin barn, the earth would have absorbed the blood and Choynski would not have slipped.

In the 27th round, Choynski came up with a wild and terrible rush that forced Corbett to the ropes, where Choynski landed a right-left combination on the Professor’s face. A clinch followed until Referee Hogan broke them apart. Then Corbett responded with a hard straight left haymaker to Choynski’s nose that sent him to the mat. The California Terror got up and rushed the Professor again. There was another clinch and a fair break directed by Hogan. Corbett slowly worked Choynski into a corner with a series of combination punches to the ribs and face. Finally, Choynski caught a right to the chin and went down to the mat. Patsey Hogan started counting. Joe got to his knees by the eighth count and staggered to his corner. It was 8:40 when Referee Hogan called the fight and declared Corbett the winner, to cheers from the crowd.

A ‘Bloody Battle Fought Gamely’

After the decision, Corbett’s brother rushed up and kissed him. Porter Ashe and Tom Williams, San Francisco sports, collected $200 for Choynski. Referee Hogan also passed the hat. For the trip back to the city, the principals were given staterooms on the tugs. Their entourages crowded the decks. The procession left the battleground by boat at 9:30. Along the way Dr. Stanton, one of the two fight doctors, found a broken bone in Corbett’s hand. The faces and torsos of both men were swollen and black with bruises. Choynski’s nose seeped blood. They arrived at the Vallejo Street Dock in San Francisco before noon and both fighters were taken to the Hammam baths to soak away the pain and bruises.

The Daily Alta California carried a full account of the fight the next day. It can be read at the California Digital Newspaper Collection. The headlines read, “A Brutal Fight. Jim Corbett Knocks Out Joe Choynski in Twenty-seven Rounds. Worse than Bare Knuckles. Choynski Uses Driving Gloves, Corbett Breaks His Hand — A Bloody Battle Fought Gamely.”

Dr. Jim Lessenger is a docent at the Benicia Historical Museum and the author, most recently, of “Commanding Officer’s Quarters of the Benicia Arsenal.”