'run, Sullivan! Run!'

Those who complain that the fight game has grown dull and predictable might well consider making the sport illegal once again. For before boxing gained official recognition and eventually degenerated into a fuzzy dream sequence of Friday nights at tubeside, there was always the delicious possibility that the prefight cat-and-mouse game between entrepreneur and police captain would be more entertaining than the fight itself.

Take as an example America's heavyweight championship battle of Feb. 7, 1849. The combatants on that day were Tom Hyer, who was generally recognized as champ after having beaten Country McClusky at Caldwell's Landing on the Hudson eight years before, and Yankee Sullivan, who weighed in at only 155 but was undefeated after a tour that had taken him halfway around the world. But the battle between the fight promoters and the police was much more exciting.

The ballyhoo started months before, when Sullivan, infuriated by the suggestion that he was afraid of Hyer, stormed into a New York saloon one night and challenged the champion then and there. Hyer responded by pounding Sullivan into submission within three minutes, an act of commercial naivete which could have ruined the real fight but somehow did not. It helped, of course, when a boxing cohort of Hyer's was murdered. And the police promptly lost Round One of the three-way contest by being unable to locate the killer.

Having bested the New York authorities on this count, the fight promoters decided to cash in their chips by holding the battle in Maryland where a deserted piece of real estate named Pool's (now Pooles) Island offered a sanctuary in the middle of Chesapeake Bay. Maryland officials responded with the warning that the "disgusting exhibition" would be prevented. To back up their words they activated two companies of officers, the Independent Blues and Independent Greys, armed them and chartered the steamer Boston as the state's assault craft.

Stimulated rather than deterred by the police activity, fight fans, gamblers and other amateur and professional patrons of the art began pouring into Baltimore during the week before the fight. On Feb. 6 Hyer arrived at Carroll's Island, just south of the city, while the Sullivan group settled into one of the two buildings on Pool's Island. A crew of workmen began clearing an area within which the fight would take place. Simultaneously the steamship Cumberland left Philadelphia with about 100 fans, and two schooners carrying 40 fans each left Baltimore.

Just before midnight—the Boston, loaded with about 110 officers and towing a scow for the transporting of prisoners, pulled out of Baltimore harbor. Two hours later the expedition arrived at Carroll's Island and the men eagerly swarmed ashore to see who could be the first to lay official hands on Hyer.

To their dismay Carroll's Island was deserted. Forewarned, the Hyer party had left for Pool's Island at 6 p.m. Even more annoying was the fact that the scow had swamped and several boats which had been placed on board her were adrift about a mile astern. Another hour was lost recovering the boats.

In the meantime, Hyer and his friends had arrived at Pool's Island and gone to sleep in the second building. A careful watch was maintained to prevent their being surrounded, for the police outnumbered the fighters' parties by 10 to one.

Weather and police incompetence improved the odds considerably. By the time Captain Gifford's men arrived at Pool's Island the scow was barely afloat and the bay was so rough that only 10 men were able to reach land after struggling at the oars of the small boats for half an hour. Tired and discouraged, the landing force trundled up to the buildings with a maximum of noise and assaulted frontally.

Neither fighter's party was even remotely surprised. At the first sound of tramping feet Hyer had crept downstairs and hidden himself on the first floor of the building. When the police charged into the house, they went right by him and upstairs to the bedroom where Hyer's trainer, George Thompson, was sleeping. Assuming him to be the champion, they placed him under arrest while Hyer slipped out a ground-floor window and into a small boat.