Boxer Benny Leonard and the Lost Battalion
An episode from my upcoming book:
Benny Leonard was born in a Jewish ghetto on Manhattan’s Lower East Side in 1896. Just a month after his twenty-first birthday, he became lightweight champion of the world. Next, he taught New York City’s own 77th “Metropolitan” Division how to fight.
The United States entered World War I by declaring war on Germany on April 6, 1917. That was the easy part. America lacked an army capable of fighting a major conflict, and since voluntary enlistment moved slowly, Congress passed the Selective Service Act on April 28. The national draft came into effect a few weeks later. Millions of young men would be inducted into the army over the months that followed. Many of those from greater New York City were sent to train at a mosquito-infested Long Island swamp called Camp Upton, where the 77th Division was being formed. These men came from all walks of life. Many were immigrants or the children of immigrants, who had known nothing but poverty. A quarter of them were Jewish.
Benny Leonard came from the same background. The son of Eastern European immigrants, he began boxing professionally when he was only fifteen. Through determined training and experience in bouts over the following years, he capitalized on his natural speed and strength to become one of the best in his weight class. On May 28, 1917, Leonard claimed the world lightweight title by knocking out British champion Freddie Welsh at the Manhattan Casino in Harlem at 8th Avenue and 155th Street. He didn’t get much time to celebrate. That summer, Leonard was commissioned a boxing instructor for the U.S. Army with the rank of second lieutenant, and in October he was sent to Camp Upton, also known as Yaphank.
Leonard had to cancel most of his professional bouts, potentially losing thousands of dollars. But he loved his work with the soldiers. “You never saw a scrappier bunch than the boys at Yaphank,” he told reporters. “They are crazy to box and they plead for chances to put on the gloves.” He got in the ring with the men practically every day. “They’re full of pep, yes, chockful of it, every mother’s son of them,” he declared. “I was surprised to find when I got there the great number of boys who could box. Some of them are ex-pugilists and some had ambitions to go in the ring . . . By the time I get through with some of them they’ll make their mark in the ring if they come home safe from the other side.”
Leonard insisted on boxing individually with each of the officers. None of them could avoid a round in the ring and keep the respect of his men. To make things easier, the boxer let each officer take his best swing. Leonard blocked most of them but also came down with a black eye or two. One of the officers who likely gave him trouble in the ring was a burly Irishman named Captain George McMurtry, commanding the 308th Regiment’s Company E—widely regarded as the best-drilled in the whole division. McMurtry was a wealthy stockbroker in civilian life, but he packed a mean punch. Another officer who sparred with Leonard was a tall and awkward but fit and scrappy lawyer named Captain (later Major) Charles Whittlesey. He and McMurtry, along with many of the other officers and men who boxed Leonard, would later become heroes of the Lost Battalion. Maybe something of the determination they showed in the Argonne Forest came from their time in the ring with the champion boxer.
Leonard worked with the men of the 77th Division daily and carried them through regimental championships in six weight classes. By the time the division set off for Europe in March-April 1918, he had boxed personally with 3,500 men. But his work did not end there. Just before the war began, Leonard had gone to a New York orphanage and rescued a poor Jewish lad named Max “Fly” Gilbert. Leonard mentored the young man and taught him how to box. Ironically, Gilbert was drafted into the army in 1917 and sent to Camp Upton, where the two boxed again. But when the doughboys of the 77th Division sailed for Europe, Gilbert, who had been assigned to the 307th Regiment, went with them.
Leonard didn’t get to go to France. He had to stay stateside and keep training men. But he worried about “Fly,” who entered the front lines that summer. Not content with letters, which could take weeks to arrive and were heavily censored, Leonard sought somebody he could trust to keep a personal eye on his protégé. His choice: famed sportswriter Damon Runyon of the New York American, who had befriended Leonard while covering him in the ring and now was going to cover the war in France. Runyon would meet “Fly” Gilbert under fire in a muddy shell hole in the Argonne Forest in early October, while Whittlesey, McMurtry, and the men of the Lost Battalion fought for their lives.
For more on the Lost Battalion, see my website at www.edwardlengel.com
Benny Leonard was born in a Jewish ghetto on Manhattan’s Lower East Side in 1896. Just a month after his twenty-first birthday, he became lightweight champion of the world. Next, he taught New York City’s own 77th “Metropolitan” Division how to fight.
The United States entered World War I by declaring war on Germany on April 6, 1917. That was the easy part. America lacked an army capable of fighting a major conflict, and since voluntary enlistment moved slowly, Congress passed the Selective Service Act on April 28. The national draft came into effect a few weeks later. Millions of young men would be inducted into the army over the months that followed. Many of those from greater New York City were sent to train at a mosquito-infested Long Island swamp called Camp Upton, where the 77th Division was being formed. These men came from all walks of life. Many were immigrants or the children of immigrants, who had known nothing but poverty. A quarter of them were Jewish.
Benny Leonard came from the same background. The son of Eastern European immigrants, he began boxing professionally when he was only fifteen. Through determined training and experience in bouts over the following years, he capitalized on his natural speed and strength to become one of the best in his weight class. On May 28, 1917, Leonard claimed the world lightweight title by knocking out British champion Freddie Welsh at the Manhattan Casino in Harlem at 8th Avenue and 155th Street. He didn’t get much time to celebrate. That summer, Leonard was commissioned a boxing instructor for the U.S. Army with the rank of second lieutenant, and in October he was sent to Camp Upton, also known as Yaphank.
Leonard had to cancel most of his professional bouts, potentially losing thousands of dollars. But he loved his work with the soldiers. “You never saw a scrappier bunch than the boys at Yaphank,” he told reporters. “They are crazy to box and they plead for chances to put on the gloves.” He got in the ring with the men practically every day. “They’re full of pep, yes, chockful of it, every mother’s son of them,” he declared. “I was surprised to find when I got there the great number of boys who could box. Some of them are ex-pugilists and some had ambitions to go in the ring . . . By the time I get through with some of them they’ll make their mark in the ring if they come home safe from the other side.”
Leonard insisted on boxing individually with each of the officers. None of them could avoid a round in the ring and keep the respect of his men. To make things easier, the boxer let each officer take his best swing. Leonard blocked most of them but also came down with a black eye or two. One of the officers who likely gave him trouble in the ring was a burly Irishman named Captain George McMurtry, commanding the 308th Regiment’s Company E—widely regarded as the best-drilled in the whole division. McMurtry was a wealthy stockbroker in civilian life, but he packed a mean punch. Another officer who sparred with Leonard was a tall and awkward but fit and scrappy lawyer named Captain (later Major) Charles Whittlesey. He and McMurtry, along with many of the other officers and men who boxed Leonard, would later become heroes of the Lost Battalion. Maybe something of the determination they showed in the Argonne Forest came from their time in the ring with the champion boxer.
Leonard worked with the men of the 77th Division daily and carried them through regimental championships in six weight classes. By the time the division set off for Europe in March-April 1918, he had boxed personally with 3,500 men. But his work did not end there. Just before the war began, Leonard had gone to a New York orphanage and rescued a poor Jewish lad named Max “Fly” Gilbert. Leonard mentored the young man and taught him how to box. Ironically, Gilbert was drafted into the army in 1917 and sent to Camp Upton, where the two boxed again. But when the doughboys of the 77th Division sailed for Europe, Gilbert, who had been assigned to the 307th Regiment, went with them.
Leonard didn’t get to go to France. He had to stay stateside and keep training men. But he worried about “Fly,” who entered the front lines that summer. Not content with letters, which could take weeks to arrive and were heavily censored, Leonard sought somebody he could trust to keep a personal eye on his protégé. His choice: famed sportswriter Damon Runyon of the New York American, who had befriended Leonard while covering him in the ring and now was going to cover the war in France. Runyon would meet “Fly” Gilbert under fire in a muddy shell hole in the Argonne Forest in early October, while Whittlesey, McMurtry, and the men of the Lost Battalion fought for their lives.
For more on the Lost Battalion, see my website at www.edwardlengel.com
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