Sometimes the rhetoric about fighters, or people in general, being tougher in different eras is over the top, but some eras were just that gritty and tough. A few divisions in the 1910s and 1920s, for instance, were jammed with the remnants of men who survived World War I or the poverty it created. Harry Greb, the middleweight champion at the start of 1926, served in the U.S. Navy during the Great War, and he knew the dangerous contrast between the tough times in the teens and the relative prosperity of the '20s. Most people in boxing, whether fans or pundits, understand the depth of Greb’s greatness by now. Back then, he was certainly highly respected and considered one of the sport’s best technicians, but many weren’t convinced. Apart from being fond of night life like any of history’s great degenerates, he could fight like a monster. Not a knockout artist, but a vicious animal willing to do anything, and that means the classical definition of “anything,” to win. In describing Greb’s latter-day style, founder and editor of The Ring Nat Fleischer wrote: “Greb employed the methods of 50 years ago, that of gouging, slashing, shoving, heeling and the use of many other tricks which Yankee Sullivan and his fellow fighters of the bare knuckle days employed.” With just under 300 pro fights on his ledger, naturally there were various opponents Greb faced more than once. The closest he came to finding a true rival might have been Gene Tunney, but they went their separate ways after Tunney won their five-fight series 3-1-1. From the time Greb captured the middleweight title in 1923 until he lost it in 1926, he fought 56 times and lost only four times: twice to Tunney, once to light heavyweight great Tommy Loughran and on a DQ to the underrated Kid Norfolk in a foul-fest. Greb wasn’t unbeatable, but at middleweight he reigned supreme. A challenge from welterweight champion Mickey Walker was thought to kickstart a new rivalry, but they could only manage to fight once. Theodore Flowers was a religious man, said to recite prayers before he fought, and sometimes as he fought. Flowers admitted to punishing opponents in the ring when they swore or used the Lord’s name in vain. He was a southpaw they called “The Georgia Deacon” and “The Fighting Deacon” because he was a deacon at a Methodist church who didn’t drink, smoke or gamble. “Tiger” Flowers was the anti-Harry Greb. Outside the ring, anyway. Inside the ring, Flowers’ style meshed perfectly with Greb’s. They were both busy and loved to mix it up inside, and they were both tough as nails and used to facing bigger opponents. They fought once in 1924 in a non-title bout where a decision couldn’t be rendered, and Greb had a hell of a time dealing with Flowers’ speed. When news wires reported the two would fight for Greb’s title at Madison Square Garden on February 26, 1926, it had all the makings of a distance fight. It doesn’t make sense to give Greb credit for doing the correct thing, though it should be acknowledged that he refused to do what many of his contemporary white champions did by “drawing the color line.” Greb not only fought Black fighters, but he fought opponents regardless of weight, height or background. And New York State Athletic Commission chairman James Farley made it a point to report that Greb had not drawn the color line against Flowers.

While Greb fought six times in the first six weeks of 1926, Flowers and his manager, Walk Miller, cherished the title shot and refused to risk it in a non-title fight. For years, Greb’s partying was the stuff of urban legend. He drank and danced and caroused from coast to coast. Somehow he still managed to fight once every two weeks on average and keep the level of his opposition sky high for most of that time. It was a low level miracle. Nobody knew how he did it, but everyone knew it couldn’t last. As Greb drank his time away, Flowers wired reporters that he was on a hunting trip and would begin training in early February. His camp, a solid three weeks long, ensured the Tiger would arrive in terrific shape. Greb made weight, but according to The Ring’s Jersey Jones, “There was little of the usual confident, cocky Greb that fidgeted nervously in his corner while the introductions were being made. Harry appeared pale and worried.” Flowers took the fight to Greb from the outset and the two traded rounds back and forth until about the sixth round. The difference was that Flowers rocked Greb several times, and the champion appeared to be struggling with his timing. Even so, Greb got his act together and appeared to take control in rounds seven through nine. Then they went back to alternating rounds, with Greb fighting with everything he had for his rounds and still absorbing enough punches to get hurt. The champion was dead tired and gave away the last two rounds. Announcer Joe Humphreys kept the crowd of more than 16,000 waiting for the announcement of the decision, which was considered a minor mistake but in hindsight might have stifled any rejoicing on Flowers’ part when the split decision tipped his way. The newspaper reporting on the bout was split between calling the verdict fair and declaring it unpopular. Over the last century, it has been called a controversial or contentious decision, but it seems any actual protest was minor, and Greb reportedly admitted to fighting poorly. It could have been, and almost certainly should have been a celebration of the first Black middleweight world champion. Perhaps some did celebrate it. But mostly it was the beginning of Harry Greb’s end. He had to wait, but Flowers got his celebrating in. Not the way Greb would have, but Flowers wasn’t Greb.