Sparring with Seaman Watson (1934)

By Jim Bird (Gateshead)

I sometimes wonder whether I am Tommy Watson's sparring partner or his protege. Some boxers at the top of the tree regard their sparring partners as mere animated punch-bags, or chopping blocks. I haven't found Tommy like that. He has been more like a tutor to me, and it was a fortunate day for me when I was allowed the privilege of partnering Tommy in his training.

Seaman Watson in training

I have known Tommy since he was a kid. We were brought up in the same district (Byker) at Newcastle. We went to the same school. I was only about last November, however, that I got the chance of becoming sparring partner to him.

It was about this time that my manager, Mr Tommy Walker, of Gateshead, asked Seaman Watson if he had any objection to me training with him. Tommy immediately fell in with the suggestion, and so I dropped in for the job of Tommy's sparring parner.

Tommy has an abrupt, blunt style that gives many the impression that he is a bit impatient and short-tempered. I hadn't been long in Tommy's camp before I found how wide of the mark that impression was. There would have been every excuse for him had he been a bit out of temper with me in my first few days' training with him, for gym work carried out by him was entirely new to me.

In the summer months I run my own boxing booth, and it was the rough and ready training of the booth that I had been used to. It consisted almost entirely of my nightly bouts with whatever members of the audience cared to "catch the gloves". Such things as shadow boxing didn't enter my curriculum. These were things Tommy had to teach me. Had he been lacking in patience or good temper he wouldn't have bothered with me. He is, however, the type of chap who is always out to do good turns.

On his return from America after beating Fidel LaBarba, he stood the Byker Bank children a party. He also raised a lot of money for the Newcastle Dispensary. And while we were training at the Walkergate Social Club he charged the public a small admission fee to see him train. This money he added to the fund being raised for a treat to the old people.

A few weeks ago he had a fine big gym built in the yard of his hotel, the Wolsington, where we are now training. The gym is well equipped, complete with a first-class ring, punch ball, punch bag, and spray. There is nothing spectacular in his training, just plain downright hard graft.

Some boxers are as spectacular as a film hero in the gym - and like sleeping beauties in the ring. Watson isn't. No one seeing him in the gym would imagine he was a champion. It is typical of him that he has no time for frills in his training.

Training for him - and his sparring partner - is a deadly serious business. The three or four rounds of sparring in our daily training are fought at full tilt. There is no exhibition stuff. Tommy lams into it, and expects his partner to do likewise. Blows are landed with full force.

One lad who went as a sparring partner to Tommy only lasted a day or two. Tommy knocked him out three times. That didn't suit Tommy. He wants someone who can take a rap - and give one in return.

Nor has he any great time for "armour plating" (pads over the head and ears) for protection during training. We had them on one night, but he soon discarded them.

"Oh, chuck that thing away," he said, pointing to my head harness. It's more of a hindrance than a help."

He Warns Me

Some of those who have watched us sparring during training have expressed surprise at the way we have gone at it "hammer and tongs".

"As good as a real fight," they say.

Well, it's got to be to satisfy Tommy.

Seaman Tommy Watson (Newcastle)

But there is nothing of the butcher about him. He doesn't belong to the class of pugilist who delights to knock a sparring partner out and then remark cold-bloodedly, "Bury that and bring me another."

When he does land one that knocks his partner a bit groggy, he remarks, "Just keep banging away at me until you have recovered yourself."

As his sparring partner, there is one thing I greatly admire about him. He keeps telling me if I have a fault. When, for instance, I commenced first with him I had the bad fault of going into him with my head shoved forward - shoving out my left with no snap behind it, and leaving my chin open for a bull's-eye. Tommy told me about it, but I didn't remember his advice.

"Next time you come in like that," he said quietly, "I'm going to rap you." And he did. It soon cured me.

On one occasion a fellow who was watching him training would persist in asking him every few minutes how he felt. It's a tribute to Tommy's self-control that he didn't chin the chap. He contented himself with saying to the fellow who looked after the place, "That daft beggar must be deaf. I've told him already I'm feeling fine, but he keeps asking his dam-fool question. Never let him in here again."

Before they were married Tommy's wife, Kitty, often acted as timekeeper to him when he was training. She doesn't come into the gym much these days, but the two younger children, Tommy, aged three or four, and Joan, aged two, like to be in there. Cathie, the eldest child, is now at school, so hasn't so much time as the others to spend in the gym.

'Marie Dressley'

Young Tommy and Joan, when there are no strangers in the gym, like nothing better than to put on an old pair of gloves and enter the ring. Joan looks quite pugnacious when she is doing her stuff. "Marie Dressler", Tommy calls her.

When you hear the Seaman laughing his loudest you know that he is watching young Tommy and Joan gravely skipping and shadow boxing. Young Tommy takes after his dad, and enjoys nothing better than a rough and tumble with his dad.

When the Seaman and Mrs Watson were in America for the Kid Chocolate fight, young Tommy, who was, of course, left on this side with relatives, had to have his tonsils removed just on the eve of the big fight. The news was kept from Tommy in case it would upset him for the fight.

The more one gets to know Tommy the better one likes him. When he takes an interest in anyone he can't do enough to help him. Since I joined him in his training he has improved my fighting a hundred per cent.

The remarkable run of bad luck that Tommy has had through cancelled and postponed fights would have sickened most boxers. It has only made Tommy all the more determined.

His is a thorough good sport, and he'll be the first to congratulate whoever succeeds in taking the title from him.

Sparring with Seaman Watson

By Billy Charlton (Gateshead)

'...He began his lightweight class, as he had always done in the feathers' class, by beating such men as Con Flynn, George Odwell, Camile Desmet, Harry Brooks, Norman Snow, to finish 1934. Starting 1935, is where I came in.

His first bout in '35 was a return with Sonny Lee at Portsmouth which Tommy won over 12 rounds. His next bout was an eliminator with Tommy Spiers, the Scottish champion, at St. James' Hall, Newcastle, on May 20th. I was boxing on the Wednesday preceding that date; I boxed a boy called Harry Edwards, of Birmingham, and when I went into the office for my money Mr Paget, the promoter, said: "Billy, Tommy Watson wants you to go down to his Walkergate Gym to be his chief sparring partner."

Well, it seemed that I was the best sparring partner in the North-East. First of all it was Norman Dale who wanted me, next it was George Willis and now it was Seaman Tommy Watson. Mind you, being wanted by Watson seemed an honour but, there again, it was an honour even to be wanted by Willis and Dale.

Well, it was the Walkergate gym of Tommy Watson that my father and I arrived at that following afternoon; it was about 10 to three when we arrived and Tommy was getting himself ready for his afternoon session of training and, anyone who knew Tommy Watson would know how outspoken he was, and what Tyneside language he used. Well, as we went into the gym, Tommy said: "What dt the caal ye son?" or "What do they call you son?" "Billy Charlton of Gateshead," I replied. "Mr. Paget said you wanted me as a sparring partner," I added. "Aye, that's right," said Tommy. "Now get ready and we'll have a round or two sparring to see how you are."

"Right" said I and began to undress and listen to Tommy's chatter. "You'll be alright here son so don't worry, just do your best and try to stick me on the floor because I'll stick you on the floor if I can." At that I began to pull back on my trousers and Tommy said: "What are you doing, man?" "I'm getting ready and going home," I said. "What for?" said Tommy and I replied: "I didn't come down here to try and knock anyone's block nor to get my block knocked off; I came down here for sparring."

"Take no notice," said Tommy, "I'm only kidding, man, but don't be afraid to get stuck in and do your best to beat me." I replied: "I won't, don't worry." Well to tell the truth I eneterd the ring that afternoon full of fire and grim determination to show Tommy Watson what I could do, which of course suited Tommy except for one thing - I was no fighter. But, by heavens, I could box and I went in that afternoon to show Watson just how fast I was but I also, very soon, found out what a good box-fighter Tommy Watson was.

My job was to pop my left hand upon Tommy's nose and jump smartly back and then side-step to one side. It was alright the first round and I thought I was going to be alright with the speed I had but the second round was different, because when I jumped back and moved smartly to my right, Tommy just stepped smartly over to his left and there I was right in front of him. Naturally I jumped back smartly again but most times I was near to the ropes then and that was when Tommy went to work.

He would push me on the shoulder so that I fell back onto the ropes, then in he would come, under my lead, right up to my body and then he would punch away underneath. All I could do was grab him and hold on like hell until we broke.

As Tommy was boxing on the Monday I don't think he worried much about me running away from him and after all it was my first day there but, as I say, Tommy was always helping charity and he always let people in to watch us train because he always had a money box on view and people used to put whatever they could afford into the box. When it was full the money went to some charity or other. He also had his manager up for the training and the fight, so it was natural that Tommy wanted to look good.

So on the Friday after we had finished our three or four rounds of boxing and were going for a shower, Tommy said to me: "You will never be any good just boxing, son, because you will never be able to draw the crowds in and that's what the promoters want - a crowd-pleaser." "I've never been shown anything about fighting," I said and Tom replied: "Well, I'll teach you all I can; the rest is up to you." So from then on we had a wee lesson or two when the gym was quiet.

Well, believe me, when I say that if anyone tried to be a box-fighter, it was I. I took in everything that Tommy Watson taught me: how to get the fullest power from my punches, punching from the toe right up through the lateral and dorsal muscles. How it was necessary to turn your knuckles on top, using those four knuckles to sink into the rib cage. How to move a fellow just enough to find the bile. There was such a lot he tried to teach me and I was learning slowly but surely. But it all takes time; as Tommy once said: "One day it will all come to you and you'll just think you are outside watching what you are doing in the ring." I think now that Tommy Watson was trying to bring me on like he had been but I wish he had taken me more into his confidence and talked with me more often...'

Left to right: Seaman Watson (Charlton's second), Billy Charlton, Tommy Murphy, Ginger Roberts and Norman Dale (Roberts's second).

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