A Man’s World: The Double Life of Emile Griffith by Donald McRae (Simon and Shuster, £20)
Emile Griffith was possibly the greatest welterweight in history – five times world champion at welterweight and middleweight in a career spanning 19 years, from 1958 to 1977. He fought 337 world championship rounds, more than any other boxer, and was world champion at a time when there were just eight weight divisions and eight world champions – unlike today, with champions galore in an embarrassment of weight divisions and governing bodies.
Griffith was as tough as they come, a man who would drag himself off the canvas and fight on to the bitter end. He fought in an era when regulations were less stringent, where there were no mandatory counts or three knockdown decisions and when boxers fought far more fights than were good for them. In 1960 alone, he boxed 10 times and over his career was averaging half a dozen fights a year. In his professional career, he fought 112 bouts, winning 85 of them.
The statistics make him one of the all-time greats, but throughout his boxing career he was leading a double life. He was gay, at a time when homosexuality was illegal in the US and most other countries, and in a sport where the very idea of a gay boxer seemed simply absurd. There had been whispers in the past, with Panama Al Brown rumoured to have had an affair in the 30s with French writer Jean Cocteau, but until Orlando Cruz recently came out no other boxer had ever publicly declared their sexuality. Many in the boxing fraternity knew of Griffiths’ double life but most chose to keep it quiet. Even the boxing writers were aware, but though they hinted at it in various ways, none ever actually spelled it out; they assumed, probably correctly, that their readers in 1962 would never believe such scurrilous tales. In London, the British press corps even caught Griffith in an embrace in the dressing room after his fight with Brian Curvis. They were shocked but kept quiet about the incident.
Outside the ring, Griffith was renowned for “outlandish” clothes, frequented gay bars and clubs, and had a boyfriend, Matthew, hidden away for many years. When things got a little “hot”, a former girlfriend was enlisted to help out; other girls were also happy to participate in the cover-up, for money or publicity for themselves. Griffith was also black, born in Saint Thomas in 1938, and an ardent supporter of civil rights throughout his life. Wherever he turned, he was damned.
He clinched his first world title in April 1961, beating the Cuban Benny “Kid” Paret, only to lose it in a rematch. A third fight in March 1963 was to go down in boxing history, for all the wrong reasons. At the weigh-in Paret, began to fool around, feigning intercourse with Griffith, calling him “maricon”, Hispanic slang for “faggot”. Griffith was outraged and turned on him with the result that the bout was almost staged there and then. The contest took on a new complexion and at the fight itself Griffith tore into Paret. After 10 fearsome rounds , he unleashed a 23-blow undefended attack of such ferocity the champion lay helpless against the ropes before crashing to the canvas. Griffith had regained his title but while he celebrated Paret was rushed to hospital, dying a few days later. The recriminations flew: the referee should have stopped the fight, Griffith should have been more controlled… A state investigation was set up, with Griffith and the referee eventually cleared of any culpability. Griffith, however, had to shoulder yet another burden as the ghost of Paret haunted him for the rest of his life. He continued fighting, even claiming more world titles, but always felt that he held back after Paret’s death.
Griffith’s sexuality was complex. In 197,1 he married dancer Mercedes Donastorg after a whirlwind romance but continued to visit gay bars, while in London he partied with Sinatra and others at The Stork before retiring to Le Duce or other Soho gay clubs. “I don’t know what I am”, he claimed. “I love men and women the same.”
Griffith quit in 1977 after three consecutive defeats. In 1992, he was badly beaten up outside a gay bar in New York and hospitalised. Though he recovered, the punches he had taken in the ring finally took their toll. He suffered with dementia and died in 2013.
Donald McRae has told a remarkable story of one of boxing’s greatest, his courage, and the shameless bigotry of the time. In another era he might, like Orlando Cruz, have been able to take a stance and might even have been a greater boxer than he was. The story is told with sympathy and skill, making it one of the best sports books I’ve read in some time. Yet it’s about much more than boxing. Sport has come a long way since the 1970s. Sportsmen and sportswomen can now feeling comfortable in discussing their sexuality in public and boxing is now far more regulated. “I kill a man and most people understand and forgive me”, said Griffith. “However, I love a man and many say this makes me evil.” How times have changed.