Williams was matched again with Kid Gavilan. While he had soundly beaten Gavilan before, this time he was told to lose by Palermo. The Mob had a big interest in Gavilan and believed he was headed for bigger things.
For his acceptance he would be ‘rewarded’ $100,000. Williams refused and Gavilan took a close decision that most, including ringside observer Sugar Ray Robinson, thought Williams had more than won. This was the other side of the coin when being managed by Palermo and the Mob. Even though Williams was active, he hardly saw any of the money he had made. But the one thing they couldn’t take was his pride and fighting heart. He dropped another decision to Gavilan, conceding nearly ten pounds in weight, and then, after two wins, he defended his title against old foe Bolanos. Again, another mobster, West Coast’s Mickey Cohen offered him money to throw the fight. Williams flat out refused. On 21st July 1949, with Jack Dempsey as referee, and Hollywood stars gathered ringside, Williams produced his finest performance, knocking out Bolanos in four. That he could recall that night and every punch years later tells you how much it meant to him. He made his last successful defence five fights later against Freddie Dawson, in another fight he was supposed to throw and another one he refused, winning a unanimous fifteen round decision. He campaigned mainly at welterweight, taking on the best contenders the division could offer, Johnny Bratton, Sonny Boy West and Lester Felton being amongst his victims. He swapped a pair of decisions with Charley Salas and was bested two out of three times by Joe Miceli. Rudy Cruz was outpointed before Jose Maria Gatica was handed just his second loss in forty seven fights when Williams flattened him in the first. But, it seemed a combination of mob control, a tough career and competing at a higher weight were taking something out of Williams.
He was dropping a few here and there, some bad decisions, some not. On 25th May 1951 he ventured back down to lightweight, defending his title against Jimmy Carter. It was the first fight he had fought at the weight in nineteen fights. Was it a factor? Who knows. But on this night he came up short, being floored four times before being stopped in the fourteenth, losing his championship. That was to be his last fight as a lightweight. He returned, three months later, losing on points to Don Williams before being stopped in ten by then unbeaten Gil Turner. It was the only time he lost three in a row. He garnered a win stopping Johnny Cunningham in five before being stopped in five by Chuck Davey. There were rumours this fight was fought under ‘suspicious circumstances’; Williams himself claims he threw the fight, but reports claim Williams was taking too many when the fight was stopped. Nevertheless, it was clear to all that he was no longer the fighter of old. He fought his final twelve fights in good company, beating Claude Hammond and Vic Cardell along the way but losing to Carmen Basilo and up and comers like Georgie Johnson and Jed Black. He finished his career however, with two fights against old rival Beau Jack, drawing the first before stopping Jack in eight, finishing with not only a win, but also in the place where it all began, his hometown of Georgia. He finished with a record of 127-24-4 with 61 knockouts. A fitting end for this once great champion.
Boxing on TV was in its infancy at the tail end of Williams career, a real shame as the man with the smooth style and knockout punch would have been a mainstay ten years earlier. That was Williams unfortunate dilemma, always ahead of his time. Fifty years later he would have been a multiweight champion and millionaire. As it was, he finished up with hardly anything, thanks to Palermo who spent his purses as soon as Williams earned them. In 1960, Williams testified before a US Senate subcommittee that was looking into the link between organised crime and boxing. He confirmed he was offered money to throw fights against Kid Gavilan, Freddie Dawson, Jimmy Carter and Juste Fontaine, refusing all. He did concede though that he wished he HAD taken the offers of $100,000 and $50,000 against Gavilan and Carter respectively, as he lost both anyway.
He was inducted into The Ring magazine Hall of Fame in 1978, the World Boxing Hall of Fame in 1983 and the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 1990. The Associated Press named him the fourth greatest lightweight of the 20th Century in 1999, whilst The Ring magazine voted him the fifth greatest lightweight in history in 2001 and the 78th greatest puncher of all time in 2003.
All of his inductions not only immortalised his abilities as a fighter but also his self respect and integrity as a man. That, above all, counts for more than anything.
‘He could have played piano with boxing gloves on,’ said a ringside reporter as quoted in Bert Sugar’s Boxing’s Greatest Fighters.
‘Ike was more than a world class fighter to me. Ike was a mythic. Ike was quite simply, with apologies to Benny Leonard, Henry Armstrong, Lew Jenkins, Beau Jack, Jimmy Carter, Bob Montgomery and even Roberto Duran, the best lightweight fighter who ever lived.’ (Bill Kelly: The History of the Sweet Science) Ring News 24 online article Dean Berks 9th September 2015
[8.6] PACKEY McFARLAND 70-0-5; newspaper decisions 36-1-1 [Welterweight & Lightweight]: Boxing.com online -
One could be forgiven for thinking that Packey McFarland, the wonderfully clever boxing ace from the Chicago stockyards, had a sneak preview of his life to come and was allowed to edit out the bad bits. Time and again, McFarland got his timing right. He knew when to change his style, when to be adventurous and when to be circumspect and how to preserve and prolong his great gifts. He also knew when to get out of the fight game and launch a new career as a highly successful businessman.
Packey McFarland lost just once in well over a hundred professional fights, that single blot on his magnificent record occurring when he was just a sixteen-year-old novice.
His defense at its best was virtually impregnable, he boxed with sublime skill and speed and carried a formidable knockout wallop when the occasion demanded urgency. Quite simply, he was one of the greatest and most complete boxing masters of all time. So how did the gods get their own back? They made McFarland a misfit. They gave him the natural body of a 135-pounder at a time when the official lightweight limit was an agonizing two pounds below that number.
Packey, the lightweight who was never truly a lightweight, never won an official world title. He didn’t have the constant menace and aura of Joe Gans, nor the obvious majesty and magnetism of Benny Leonard. In the stark and tougher days of eight divisions, McFarland skipped and hovered between the lightweights and welterweights and beat a golden generation of fighters from both divisions.
Those who saw Packey in action never forgot him. Huge crowds marveled at the hard-hitting, ghost-like maestro who possessed the visual tricks and elusiveness of a shadow. Boxing journalist tapping out their reports for the morning editions couldn’t find enough superlatives when praising him.
When McFarland exploded onto the world stage at the Mission Street Arena in Colma, California, in the spring of 1908, he was hailed as a boxing wizard without a discernible fault. Former lightweight champion Jimmy Britt was scientifically bewildered and battered to a sixth round knockout defeat and everyone was talking excitedly about the new kid on the block.
Ringside reporter Eddie Smith wrote of Packey: ‘McFarland is everything, a hitter, a boxer, a good general and wonderfully clever and fast.’
What a pity, then, that Packey constantly had to wage separate battles to make the lightweight limit. His title chances were frustrated as a result. Three times he was meant to challenge Ad Wolgast. Three times the proposed fight fell through because of McFarland’s weight difficulties.
But how the kid from Chicago made his mark in spite of it all! His clever and quietly brutal dismantling of the artful Britt was a revelation to West Coast fans who had read of Packey’s exploits in the Eastern press.
Britt was apparently wrestling with weight problems of his own at the Mission Street Arena. Jimmy looked drained and uncharacteristically subdued when the two fighters came to mid-ring for their instructions. It was normally Jimmy’s manner to stand tall and stare into the eyes of his opponent, but now the dapper little San Franciscan was shaking hands with McFarland with a weary air. When the photographers asked the fighters for another pose, Britt dropped his hands and shuffled irritably.
Britt’s lethargy shocked reporter Eddie Smith, who noted: ‘In the former days, he would have grasped the hand of that opponent and tried to jerk it out of its socket.’
What followed from McFarland, however, was a master class of box-fighting in any circumstances. Jimmy Britt fought with terrific courage but simply couldn’t handle the natural brilliance coming back at him. Jimmy’s sluggish pre-fight demeanor gave no hint of the fast and enthusiastic start he made to the contest.
He dashed from his corner at the opening gong, slipping into his familiar crouch and feinting for an opening. He would discover that openings in Packey McFarland’s defense occurred with depressing rarity. When the fighters came to close quarters for the first time, McFarland quickly demonstrated his superior strength and speed of thought with a right hand smash to the body as they broke from a clinch.
Packey’s clever footwork was quite exemplary as he frequently made Britt miss by wide margins. Jimmy stumbled to the floor after missing by a good foot with a left swing. His work was far too urgent and intense, his fiery aggression denying him the necessary time he needed to assess and measure McFarland’s capability. Jimmy did have some success with several hard lefts to the body, but Packey was jabbing and moving around him beautifully.
McFarland was giving the crowd only a foretaste of what was to come, for it was quite obvious that he was not yet showing his full hand. From the second round, like a teasing magician, he began to reveal his most impressive tricks. While Britt was still able to score to the body with his left, most of his leads and counters were being blocked with great skill by the young master from Chicago. By the end of the round, Packey was doing all the leading and out-muscling Jimmy in the clinches.
Britt’s goose was more or less cooked at that early stage. He simply couldn’t match McFarland for strength or skill. Packey’s seconds told him to work Jimmy’s body in the third round as the breaking down process gathered momentum. McFarland glided in and out like a man on castors during his rapid and skilful raids, sometimes making Britt look inept. When Jimmy finally hit the mark with a right to the head, Packey seemed momentarily disturbed. In fact he was inspired.
He fired back, taking complete control of the fight and forcing Britt to employ some clever ducking and blocking to temper the backlash. Suddenly Jimmy couldn’t keep his assailant out and was punched all around the ring as McFarland stepped up another gear. Brave Britt managed to summon a brief rally, but he looked a distinctly dispirited man at the bell.
It was all or nothing for Jimmy from that point on. He knew that he had encountered a superior talent in all-round skill and that only a knockout would save the day. He tried gamely to find the big punch, but his greater daring and its accompanying recklessness only sucked him into further trouble. Packey smothered Britt’s best efforts and very nearly decked him with a right to the jaw. Jimmy was being struck repeatedly by his opponent’s hard and accurate jabs and was being taken apart in the clinches. Then Britt was heard to groan as he took a hard right hook to the body inside.
As he stumbled back uncertainly, McFarland pursued him and floored him with a right cross to the jaw. Jimmy looked all through, but the bell saved him and he showed his courage in the fifth round as he bought himself some extra time with a final attack. But even as he tried to find the one big shot that would turn his fortunes around, he was being smothered and shaken by short, jolting blows.
The gutsy little San Franciscan, a plumber by trade, still looked surprisingly strong as he came up for the sixth round, but no longer was he able to land a significant blow on his evasive tormentor. Coming out of a clinch, Britt had the last of his fighting spirit knocked out of him with a big shot to the jaw. McFarland went for the kill and scuttled Jimmy with a beautifully timed right cross. There was no hiding place for Britt when he struggled to his feet, another blow to the jaw sending him to the deck again. When a final right to the jaw crumpled him for the third time, one special man in the crowd had seen enough.
Jimmy’s grey-haired father clambered into the ring and pushed Packey back, signaling that the Britt family was through for the day. McFarland was overjoyed at his victory, running and jumping around the ring until his seconds calmed him and took him back to his corner.