Now that the election agony is over, the next excitement in New York is the big fight between Sullivan and Laflin at the Madison Square Garden on Monday night. Everybody knows all about Sullivan, but everybody wants to know something about Laflin. J. M. Laflin was born in Manchester, England just thirty-four years ago. He is of Irish extraction, his father havin’ been an Irishman by birth, and his mother, though born in England, bein’ of Irish descent. Her maiden name was Curran, and she claimed descent from the illustrious Irish patriot of that name. His father was a provision dealer and brought Laflin over to this country when he was but four years of age. The Laflins settled first in Milwaukee, then in Chicago, afterwards removin’ to New York. For a while young Laflin kept a saloon on Madison Street, Chicago, where his place became quite a resort for sportin’ men.
He took to water from childhood like a duck, and was always rowin’ when he wasn’t club- swingin’. He finally determined to devote himself altogether to athletic and aquatic sports, becomin’ “a professional athlete,” as it is called.
He first appeared at a club swingin’, and made quite a hit in this line. Goin’ over to England he gave club-swingin’ entertainments, and received a good deal of pecuniary encouragement, and made some acquaintances among the nobs. After givin’ private performances for awhile, he turned teacher of sparrin’, sword exercise, etc., and at Vienna was exhibited as the “Model Man,” physically speakin’. He is, in respect to form, almost, if not quite equal, to Sullivan, and as the song says, looks “as pretty as a picture.” If figure was to decide the contest, the battle would certainly be a “draw” between himself and Sullivan, for both the men are almost physically perfect.
After Vienna, he took to club-swingin’ again, and went in for the championship. He claims to be the champion club swinger of the world at the present time, and shows twelve medals and a leather belt to prove his claim. For some time he served as an artist’s model, sitting for Gerome and Bartlett in Paris and Foley in London. The picture of the Dyin’ Gladiator reproduces him as the Gladiator. At the suggestion of an artist he took to travelin’ round givin’ exhibitions of “Livin’ Tableaux” similar and about equal to those given by Jem Mace. His trump card in this line was a tableau of “Ajax Defyin’ the Lightnin’.”
Durin’ his travels in Europe Laflin picked up three or four languages, which he speaks pretty well, and had various “adventures” at the various Continental capitals, though, on the whole, he managed to keep out of any serious scrapes or sprees.
Returnin’ to this country, he tried his luck as in oarsman in a race at Chicago, which he won. Then he rowed against Haggerty and beat him. Since that time he has rowed against Preston, Wampole, Rogers and Lord, of Boston. Then he took to club-swingin’ exhibitions in this country, and had a match with William Riley in Chicago. In this match he swung twenty-pound clubs for one hundred and five minutes, makin’ sixty-five revolutions per minute right along.
Then he made a brief dash as an actor, and did Charles the Wrestler when Mrs. Langtry appeared in “As You Like It.” It is not givin’ Laflin much praise to say that he took his part quite as well as the lady played hers.
As a boxer he has done already some clever things, though nothin’ compared to the job he has undertaken for Monday. In the athletic tournament at Gilmore’s Garden, years ago, he had a glove contest with Joe Coburn. Everybody thought Joe would annihilate him, but he didn’t. On the whole, Joe got the worst of the encounter.
He has also stood up before Sullivan previously, and, altho’ seemin’ly a little doubtful before his redoubtable antagonist, managed to do better than anybody else yet has done, in that way, up to date.
Perhaps the most peculiar thing about Laflin is that he has a peculiar system of trainin’ for a fight which is at variance with the old ideas about trainin’. He believes that rare meat is not wholesome, but on the contrary is decidedly injurious. He maintainin’ that cooked meats are much better every way. The notion that “blood begets blood” he rejects altogether.
He also holds that early risin’ is not beneficial. “Gettin’ up with the lark” he holds is much better for the lark than for the man. The air, he says, is always damp and unwholesome in the very early mornin’, and besides it is n. g. to take a long walk or violent exercise on an entirely empty stomach, just as hurtful, in fact, as to take it on a full one.
Accordin’ to Laflin, the right way to do is to wait until the sun is up, then get up about half an hour after him, then get a light breakfast, and then get in your fine work in the way of exercise.
He also holds that in “coolin’ off” after severe exercise, a man should be treated and groomed just as they would treat a horse under similar circumstances. He should be “rubbed down” slowly–cautiously–and sponged with salt water; and durin’ the “coolin’ down,” the man should walk about moderately, under a blanket, so as to avoid any sudden extreme change from exercise to rest. I must say that all this sounds sensible enough, and I give it for what it is worth. I have never gone into trainin’ myself, and don’t know anything about it from personal experience–but the proof of the puddin’ is in the eating thereof–and there will be a hundred people believin’ in Laflin’s system of trainin’, if he beats Sullivan, to one who will believe in it if Sullivan beats him.
[Editor’s notes: Laflin lost the exhibition match with Sullivan, though at one point it appeared that he had Sullivan backed onto the ropes. Laflin managed gymnasiums for many years, then moved to Florida, where he was a highly-sought fishing guide. At age sixty-five, he still looked like a man twenty years younger. He died in 1915, having lived a life full of varied experiences.
Gérôme’s Pollice Verso (in which Laflin was the model for the fallen gladiator) is the source for the popular notion that “thumb down” meant death, and “thumb up,” mercy. That notion is disputed.]
