BY THE NUMBERS: King Levinsky by Don Stradley • Illustration by KronkAAArt He’s not in the International Boxing Hall of Fame, but hard- hitting Harris Krakow of Chicago, better known as “King Levinsky,” was more entertaining than 80% of the people enshrined in Canastota. After all, this is a man who claimed he once lost a fight because his feet hurt. It was only later that he realized he’d put his shoes on the wrong feet. Here’s his story by the numbers.
seconds against Joe Louis » In 1935, a whopping crowd of 39,195 came out to Chicago’s Comiskey Park to see Louis destroy Levinsky in less than a round. Levinsky went down four times before referee Norman McGarrity stopped the debacle. For perhaps the only time in his career, Levinsky heard boos from a Chicago audience. He’d never fight in his home city again. The fight spurred rumors that a terrified Levinsky begged the referee to stop it, which Levinsky denied. There were also allegations that gangsters had paid Levinsky to flop. Adding to Levinsky’s woes, his purse was held up by a local fishmonger who claimed Kingfish owed him money for a shipment of herring.
title shots » The closest Levinsky came to a title shot was in 1934, when he boxed an exhibition with reigning champion Max Baer. In Round 2, Levinsky made the mistake of taunting the champ. Baer responded by knocking Levinsky cold. According to the AP report, Kingfish “had to be carried to his corner” and needed five minutes to recuperate.
suitcase full of neckties » Levinsky tried several occupations, including stints as a tavern owner and a professional wrestler. His real talent, and what he became best known for, was hustling neckties. The old fish peddler became a necktie peddler, cutting a swath from Chicago to Miami to Las Vegas, his merchandise displayed in a giant cardboard case. He managed to sell enough of the gaudy things to make a living of sorts. It became common to see Levinsky at major fights or baseball training camps putting the squeeze on someone to buy one of his items. Boxing insiders made jokes about him and his ties, and at least once every few years some sportswriter would fill a column with tales of the pathetic old heavyweight reduced to selling ugly neckwear. Yet Levinsky seemed happy. He was usually driving a flashy car with an attractive lady for company. Life was good. Levinsky claimed his customers included Frank Sinatra and other celebrities, and by the 1970s his wife (number three) was giving the ties a personal touch by ironing on a special “King Levinsky” autograph. Levinsky had a few different sales pitches, one of which was “Hey, I’m punch drunk. Can you help me out by buying a tie?” Another had Kingfish saying, “I’m only selling neckties until I can get a rematch with Joe Louis.” Perhaps his greatest hustle involved a simple wristwatch. Levinsky would show it to some sucker and say, “Dempsey gave this to me after we fought. It’s probably worth a few hundred bucks, but I’ll sell it to you for 20.” Once the sale was made and the happy customer walked away, Levinsky would reach into his pocket and produce another watch identical to the one he’d just sold. There’s no telling how many people thought they owned the very watch that Dempsey had given to Levinsky. People often debated if he was as dumb as he acted, but when it came to separating people from their money, all agreed Kingfish was a genius.
fights » Levinsky (1910-1991) was primarily a heavyweight gatekeeper. If you were a young prospect during the Great Depression era or a faded star making a comeback, you’d inevitably cross swords with him. He wasn’t clever or crafty, just a slugger who somehow managed to win more fights than he lost. Levinsky’s record of 74-35-7 (with 40 KOs) reflects an erratic career, but not his ability to draw customers or the stunning power of his overhand right. The Brooklyn Times Union once described Levinsky’s right hand as “a fearful thing to watch as it goes swishing through the air.” Having grown up in Chicago’s largely Jewish west side, Levinsky first earned money at his family’s fish market on Maxwell Street. When he turned to boxing, his wild- swinging style and fun-loving personality earned him a local following. Because of his earlier vocation, Levinsky became known forever as “The Kingfish.” Levinsky’s most significant win came in 1931, when he conquered the brilliant Tommy Loughran. In what the Associated Press called the “biggest ring upset of the season,” Levinsky defeated the former light heavyweight champion by 10-round decision, dropping him multiple times in the process. Though Loughran defeated him in two other bouts, Levinsky’s victory over him was a career peak. Levinsky also triumphed over Leo Lomski, Jimmy Slattery, Paulino Uzcudun, former heavyweight champion Jack Sharkey and Don McCorkindale, whom Levinsky decked seven times en route to a decision win. There was also a surprise first-round knockout of the highly regarded Charley Retzlaff. Unfortunately, he failed against Max Baer and Primo Carnera. “Da Preem” beat Levinsky twice on points. Baer did the same.
equally colorful sister » Not trusting the people around her brother, Levinsky’s sister, Lena, left the family fish business and became his co-manager. “She was crazy,” said promoter Chris Dundee. “She would cuss like a man, and when she was at ringside, she was jumpin’ all over the place. That’s why they called her ‘Leapin’ Lena.’” Known for constantly changing her hair color and for a shrieking voice that could be heard up in the cheap seats of any arena, Lena amused sportswriters with her bold behavior. Among her many stunts was when she came between Kingfish and his new wife, a 19-year-old fan dancer named Rosie Glickman. Thanks partly to Lena’s meddling, the marriage lasted only six weeks. (Rosie sued Lena, claiming she had turned Kingfish against her.) Indeed, Lena was a unique character. But in 1935, after she’d suffered a nervous breakdown, a trio of psychiatrists declared Lena insane. After a period at Kankakee State Hospital, Lena resurfaced in the 1940s as the owner of a dress shop. Though famously protective of her brother, Lena was sometimes accused of mishandling his finances. Even Kingfish said, “Lena lost the money because she fell in love with a con man.”
did the crowd. Dempsey blamed his poor performance on a head cold, but Levinsky’s 15-year edge in youth had something to do with it, too. “When the bell clanged at the finish of the fourth round,” Dempsey wrote in his 1977 autobiography, “I knew I no longer had any business being in the ring.” Being known as the man who thwarted Dempsey’s comeback was nice publicity. Kingfish milked it for the rest of his life.
rounds with
Jack Dempsey » When Dempsey’s post- retirement barnstorming tour brought him to Chicago in February of 1932, Levinsky was the obvious opponent. The exhibition drew more than 23,000 fans to Chicago Stadium, breaking the city’s previous indoor attendance record for boxing. When it was over, 18 of the 24 sportswriters polled thought Levinsky got the best of it, as
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