Jim Donavon Champ as Boche Boxer By Rob Snell


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Jim Donavon

By Robert Edgren

11 November 1917

"JIM" DONOVAN A CHAMP AS BOCHE BOXER.

We used to sit at the ringside in New York clubs and listen while the announcer introduced him. There would be a hush after the ending of the semi-final bout, and then the principals in the main event would take their corners and stare across at each other while awaiting the completion of the customary formalities. The announcer would clear his throat and, 1 holding up one hand in a plea for silence, would shout in that singsong voice of his;

"Gentleman – a little order - On my right, Jim Donovan; on my Left - " . Usually It was just "Jim Donovan," but sometimes the announcer added a line or two. It became "Jim Donovan, the Champion of the British Army," or "Jim Donovan of Ireland.". Whatever the announcement, Jim Donovan always sat smiling in his corner, apparently pleased with being there, calmly confident in his skill, regarding the whole thing with a Celtic love of battle.

He was a middleweight, symmetrical, smoothly muscled, and as smooth as oil in action. He had fine features and black, curly hair. In fact, he made a very pretty picture in the ring, and he wasn't afraid to fight.

Along about the beginning of the great war Jim Donovan, pugilist disappeared. It was rumored that he had gone to Canada to do some boxing, but his name never showed in the sporting columns.

Jim Donovan was nearly forgotten. Boxers come and go swiftly. Then one night a week or two ago an English officer in full uniform, wearing a curling black mustache and carrying himself with the swing of a born fighting man, came walking swiftly down along the ringside at a New York boxing show, slapping some of the sporting writers on the back. "When they looked up inquiringly the officer showed a white row of teeth in a wide smile and chuckled:

"You don't know me, do you?"

It was Jim Donovan. No, to be more exact, It was no longer Jim Donovan, but Lieut. Commander James P. Donovan of the Royal Canadian Dragoons, back from the front on leave after nearly two years of constant fighting "somewhere in France. Lieut. Commander Donovan,only professional boxer to become a commissioned officer in the king's army.

In the beginning, Jim Donovan was Irish The name was O'Donovan originally, but was slightly abbreviated in America. They did intend to make a priest of Jim, and he received a college education; but the love of adventure was in him and he went into the British army and served through the Boer war. He served in a campaign or two in India and then returned to Ireland. He was a sergeant major, a very skilful boxer and because of his athletic ability an all round fighting man with the weapons of war.

Donovan won some British army boxing championships, and then, the thirst for adventure growing, left when his term of enlistment ran out and came to America. Here he began boxing professionally and was soon in demand because of his skill. He never became a champion in this country – a little to reckless perhaps. He could never content himself with fighting

cautiously and waiting for an opening. When he found the championship title out of reach he quickly turned to another branch of his profession, opened a "health farm" in the Jersey hills and became boxing instructor at the City Athletic club. And then along came the war.

A Fighter—Not a Talker.

I have found more difficulty in digging out Jim Donovan's history after that. Bare facts and figures he is willing to give, and he takes some pride in showing a number of letters and official papers connected with his experience at the front. I know that Jim Donovan won his commission by a feat of daring on the battle field—a feat rare enough to be remembered and chronicled among the brave deeds of a war that has produced a host of known heroes and millions who are and always will-.be unknown. But there the information stops. I asked him for details, and he

almost ran away.

"That's one thing a British army officer never does," he said emphatically. "It is against every tradition of the service—even against the regulations – for an army officer to talk of his own exploits. It’s absolutely impossible. I can tell you of some things, but not a single thing that could possibly be construed as a boast or an effort to gain credit for myselfâ€.

“not even how you won your commission?"

Lieutenant Donovan smiled. "After the war," he said, "perhaps I'll tell you all about that."

Briefly, and as he told It, this Is the progress of Donovan, the fighting man: He went into the British army as a boy, served in South Africa and India, and received his service medals, retired after ten years of service and went to America. When the present war broke out Donovan went to Toronto and enlisted as a private, making no claim because of his previous experience In six weeks he was made a sergeant and went to England with his regiment. He was at the mobilization center only 5 days when he was sent to France.

Twenty two months of hard fighting at the front with the Irish brigade followed. It was twenty two months of trench warfare, going “over the top†frequently, of night raids and hand to hand fighting in shell holes and among barbed wire entanglements. Jim Donavon could tell some tales of his experiences there – If he only would – I asked him if he found boxing useful.

Where Fist Beat Gun

“I can tell you one incident†said Lieutenant Donavon . “There was an Irish lad with us who was a pretty fair boxer. He was a sergeant . One afternoon he was ordered to select six men and go out in front of the trenches that night and repair the barbed wire entanglements which had been destroyed. That was almost equivalent to a death sentence.

"The German trenches were only 150 yards away, and they sent up star shells every few moments and opened up with machine guns on everything that they saw moving out in front. After dark the sergeant and his men crawled out and began putting down the posts. Every time there was flare they lay flat on their faces and didn’t move until it was dark again. Then they’d renew the work. After a time they noticed that it was long time between the German flares. It was a pitch black night, but the Germans seemed to be relaxing their vigilance.

The sergeant was standing up when he felt somebody move right at his elbow and stand up beside him in the darkness. He thought it was one of his men. " 'How would you like to put some of those posts up for us?" whispered the man at his elbow, in perfect English.

"The sergeant thought then that the man beside him in the darkness was a patrol from further along the line of English trenches. He turned, and just then a flare went off and he saw the man was a German officer in full uniform.

"Men putting up wire wear heavy leather gloves, covered with iron studs to keep the wire from tearing their hands. The sergeant didn’t have time to reach for a weapon. He swung his right and the iron studded glove caught the German officer on the jaw and smashed him down. The sergeant dragged him back into the trench as a prisoner. At the same time his six men saw a bunch of Germans in a shell hole and were gathering there. They jumped in and killed them all.Star shells went up and the front was swept with bullets. The Germans had run a lead out to the shell hole and were gathering for a raid on the English trench when their officer bumped into a fist and spoiled it.

“have you ever been hit yourself†I asked. “Twice†said Donavon. “Once by a machine gun bullet and once by shrapnel from a shell that burst right over me when I was in a trench. The bullet wound became infected. I can thank my athletic training and clean life for coming out of that.If I had been a drinking man I would have died.

However Donavon earned his own chance for promotion, he was sent from a hospital to an officers training camp in England, where after a three months course he passed examinations with a high mark and was commissioned second lieutenant. Back at the front and in the thick of fighting again he was promoted to adjutant and Lieutenant commander. He obtained leave to come home to America to see if Uncle Sam needs him but with British troops or American he intends to get back into the big war. Love of fighting runs strong in the Donavon’s

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