With the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month once again upon us,
we take time to reflect on professional wrestling during wartime.
A new documentary, Lost Legend: The Story of Jack Munroe, provides a vivid and captivating biographical account of one of Canada’s most interesting turn-of-the-century personalities. A poster for a recent screening of the film at Cape Breton University’s Boardmore Theatre speaks to the many ways that Munroe can be remembered: “Boxer. Miner. Soldier. Mayor. Canadian. Legend.”
Appropriate to Remembrance Day, it is important that we remember Munroe for his sacrifices to Canada’s war effort as a soldier. However, one descriptor can also be added to the list on the poster: Wrestler.
Munroe’s career as a professional wrestler is intertwined closely with a boxing career which garnered him his greatest fame. Munroe seemingly emerged out of the dark, both figuratively and literally, to become a leading contender for the title when, working as a miner, he took up the challenge of reigning heavyweight champion James J. Jeffries to “go the distance” in a four-round contest in Butte, Montana, in December of 1902.
He accomplished the task, earning $250 and making Jeffries look bad in the process. News of the incident circulated across the country, immediately catapulting Munroe out of the Montana mining frontier and into the forefront of the American sporting world. He later challenged unsuccessfully for Jeffries’ title and fought an up-and-coming Jack Johnson, who would beat another Canadian, Tommy Burns, for the heavyweight boxing championship of the world 1908.
Munroe wrapped up his boxing career in 1906. While his time near the top of the pugilistic world was brief, it was remarkable enough to earn him recognition in the Nova Scotia Sports Hall of Fame (he was a native of Cape Breton) and the Canadian Boxing Hall of Fame. But between fights, he frequently took on wrestling engagements, and ultimately logged more time struggling for holds on the mat than exchanging blows in the ring.
The beginnings of Jack Munroe’s wrestling career mimicked his exploits in boxing. In both instances he was quickly catapulted to the forefront of the two sports, despite having very little competitive experience.
After his surprising performance against Jeffries in Butte, the once-and-future miner was besieged by a variety of offers. Capitalizing quickly on his fame, Munroe headed east at the beginning of 1903, and like many boxers of his era, took on theatrical performances, appearing in a production titled Road to Ruin.
Munroe was the quiet type. More an athlete than a thespian, the mat soon beckoned.
In 1900, the New York state legislature enacted a state-wide ban on prizefighting. New York City was a major center for the sport, so several prominent boxers, among them former middleweight and heavyweight champ Robert Fitzsimmons, and “Sailor” Tom Sharkey, who Jack Munroe later defeated in a six-round contest with the gloves, shifted to wrestling.
By the time he arrived in the east, Munroe was probably more familiar with wrestling than many of his fellow prizefighters, having taken on some amateur matches while in California. He also claimed to have received instruction from Dan McLeod, the recognized American catch-as-catch-can champion during Munroe’s early period in the public eye. The Cape Bretoner was no seasoned grappler, but he was an all-around athlete and by every account exceptionally strong, so his natural attributes compensated, at least in part, for his lack of finesse.
In Baltimore during February, he trained with former amateur standout Max Wiley and took on all comers under the stipulation that he defeat them in 15 minutes. Munroe often faced two men a day and while he pinned a number of his opponents, most stayed the limit. The New York Sun noted that he made a “fair showing.”
With little more than two weeks under his belt as a professional, Munroe was thrust to the forefront of the sport, signing for a match at Madison Square Garden on March 13 against Cleveland’s Tom Jenkins, the recently-deposed American titleholder. Nobody expected the upstart to beat the former (and future) champ in a standard two-out-of-three fall contest. The conditions of the match therefore called for Jenkins to pin Munroe four times in an hour.
Handicap stipulations of the kind seen in the Munroe-Jenkins encounter were very common at the turn of the century and helped build excitement around what would otherwise be mismatches. Theoretically, stipulations could be imposed that would make it almost impossible for the dominant athlete to secure a victory. For the challenger, it made him look good because he had thwarted someone regarded as a better wrestler. It didn’t kill the credibility of the handicapped athlete, either, because the public recognized the conditions they were operating under. That’s exactly how the Munroe-Jenkins match played out.
During the first period, Munroe “sidestepped and sprinted all over the mat” killing seven minutes of time. Jenkins, the former Cleveland millworker, was able to get the miner to the mat, but Munroe was able to get to his feet and continue to play against the clock.
Highly defensive handicap-style wrestling is more suspenseful than entertaining (think for example of the tension around the Bret Hart-Shawn Michaels Iron Man match from Wrestlemania XII), but the Jenkins-Munroe encounter had a bit of unexpected excitement. Borrowing a page from the future ECW playbook, someone hurled a chair toward the ring. Unlike the Hardcore Heaven show 90 years later, though, the projectile didn’t make it to the combatants.
Eventually, Jenkins got his man down and his superior skill won the first fall. More sprinting followed in the second and third contests, but Jenkins eventually pinned the Canadian’s shoulders to the mat two more times. With under four minutes to secure a final fall, Munroe managed to hold Jenkins off for a victory. A mob of supporters descended on the upstart grappler and he had to be escorted to the dressing room.
Munroe continued to succeed under handicap conditions. On July 1, he faced John Piening, the “Butcher Boy,” in a Greco-Roman match in New York. Piening was in the second-tier of American heavyweight wrestling talent, and under a four-fall handicap, he only got Munroe down twice in 60 minutes. In December of that year, they wrestled another handicap in Brooklyn, this time with the conditions reduced to three falls in an hour. Piening again only got Munroe down twice before the time ran out.
Remarkably, the second match with Piening occurred just two days after boxing Al Limerick in Boston.
Based on his performances against first Jeffries and then Jenkins, Munroe had earned something of a reputation as a “spoiler” on the American combat sports scene. Prior to the first Piening bout, the New York Evening World remarked, “Disappointing champions has been one of the pursuits of Monroe [sic].” However, defensive wrestling with a favorable handicap required a limited set of skills compared to the athlete who was required to beat the clock. When the tables were turned, Munroe did not fare as well.
The limits of Munroe’s technical abilities became apparent when matched against Harvey Parker. Nicknamed “The Little Demon,” Parker was a lightweight and already in his 40s by the time he met the former Butte miner in Worchester, Massachusetts, on September 16. Despite his size and age, Parker was a notorious and skilled grappler who commonly faced larger men. While Munroe was contracted to throw Parker twice in an hour, the smaller man had his way with him. Parker pinned Munroe in 29 minutes and then punished him for the remaining half hour.
Munroe also had trouble in non-handicap matches against top-tier heavyweights. On February 1, 1904, he lost in straight falls against Lancashire’s Jim Parr in Buffalo. Although largely forgotten today, Parr was the best British export of the period and, along with Jenkins, McLeod, and an up-and-coming Frank Gotch, among the most high-profile heavyweights operating in North America. Unlike Parker, though, Parr had the size, and apparently the willingness, to make Munroe look good. Munroe even appeared close to securing a pin on a few occasions before the Lancastrian skillfully extricated himself. The Waterbury Evening Democrat described it as “whirlwind wrestling.”
Parr was an extremely skilled grappler who could win while making a less skilled opponent look good. However, eight days after their encounter, Munroe faced Gus Ruhlin in Boston. Ruhlin was a veteran boxer who had been in the professional game since 1893. Although observers evidently felt both men did their best, after 50 minutes with no fall, the management felt compelled to declare that the match would be a draw if it went for another 35 minutes. It did. The New York Evening World declared, “What both men didn’t know about wrestling could fill a large-sized book.”
Newspapermen could scoff at Munroe’s wresting skill, but his toughness was undeniable. Just 16 days later he fought and defeated Tom Sharkey in what would be the Sailor’s final boxing match.
After many delays and setbacks, Munroe got another fight against champion Jim Jeffries, this time for the title, on August 26, 1904. The Canadian lost in two rounds.
Much of the “hype” around Munroe centered on his push for a shot at Jeffries’ championship. After he was decisively defeated, his star started to fade.
Still, Munroe continued to fight until 1906 with a mostly-winning record. He also continued to wrestle, often in the southern states, appearing in Alabama, Georgia, and Florida against M.J. Dwyer, a middleweight who had trained US President Theodore Roosevelt during his time as the governor of New York.
In 1906, Munroe decided it was time to end his days in the ring.
If you skim the biographies of famous athletes, you’ll typically find that only about one or two chapters follow their athletic career before the book wraps up. Not so with Jack Munroe.
In Dorothy Farmiloe’s Jack Munroe: Canada’s Forgotten Hero, Munroe hangs up the gloves by the end of chapter six. Twelve more chapters follow.
After he was done with combat sports, Munroe headed north to the mining frontier of Northern Ontario, where he made his real fortune. However, after eight years in centers such as Cobalt and Elk City (where he served as mayor), he was ready again to fight.
With the outbreak of the First World War, Munroe immediately enlisted with the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry (PPCLI) and was part of the first Canadian contingent to sail for England. Since 1905, Jack Munroe had been joined in his adventures by Bobbie Burns, a dog he had befriended while in Mexico. Although Bobbie Burns had to be smuggled around to avoid detection, he soon became the PPCLI mascot.
Munroe had been a famous athlete, but he was years removed from his time in the ring. Although certainly well-known among his fellow soldiers, his involvement with the PPCLI was not ceremonial. The PPCLI was the first Canadian infantry unit to depart for France, and by the beginning of January, Munroe was plunged into the horrors of trench warfare.
The early months of the war were catastrophic for the PPCLI. On May 8, during the Battle of Frezenberg Ridge, of the 546 men who went out to the line, 392 became casualties.
In the face of overwhelming carnage, the attitude that Munroe cultivated as a gutsy fighter, as well as his experience as a miner, came together when he earned a reputation for clearing trenches. His weapon of choice against the Germans was a prospector’s pick.
Munroe served for six months before he also joined the PPCLI’s long list of men unable to keep fighting.
During the first week of June, he was struck by a bullet just below the right collar bone. The bullet travelled through his body and exited through his shoulder blade. The subclavian artery sustained damage, and his arm and shoulder were paralyzed.
Munroe lost a massive amount of blood before finally being sent back to England, where he underwent emergency treatment at the Royal Victoria Hospital.
The wounds were considered catastrophic. In time, he regained movement in his arm, but complete loss of power in his hand remained, and so did chronic pain. His hospital stay lasted for many months. Fortunately, Bobbie Burns was able to join him.
Munroe returned to Canada in 1917, but his period of service wasn’t over. He travelled to the United States in 1918 to aid in recruiting. He also penned the book Mopping Up, one of the first memoirs of the Great War by a Canadian soldier. It was told through the eyes of his dog.
Remarkably, after the war ended, he also returned to prospecting.
Munroe suffered what was perhaps his greatest loss in 1919, when Bobbie Burns failed to meet him at the train station after a trip, as was the custom. He never sought the companionship of another dog. He did, however, marry.
His last years were spent in Toronto, where he succumbed to cancer on February 13, 1942.
Jack Munroe’s time near the forefront of the American fight world lasted around the same amount of time as his service to the Dominion of Canada during the Great War. It was a relatively brief professional career, but it was marked by intense publicity and an equally intense schedule of public appearances.
The physical demand Munroe imposed upon himself, bouncing back and forth between boxing and wrestling engagements, would have buried many men. It is likely that same ruggedness that allowed him to thrive in the isolated Canadian mining frontier, and ultimately kept him from dying in the trenches in Europe.
