A black and white history of the heavyweight division Tuesday May 23, 2000 When John L Sullivan toured America a hundred years ago and more he would offer a thousand dollars to any man who could last four rounds with him - as long as he wasn't black. In his bareknuckled and gloved career, the world's first heavyweight champion fought only men of his own colour, and not many complained. Another Irish-American, James J Corbett, who followed him, was similarly reluctant. So when Jack Johnson became the first black heavyweight champion - by brutalising Tommy Burns for 14 rounds in Sydney in 1908 - he turned the sporting world on its head. Jack came to London the following July, performing on the bass viol and singing Baby's Sock is a Blue-bag Now for a white audience at the Oxford Music Hall. The Times noted that in the United States Johnson 'passed for a "flash nigger", a type not to be encouraged by those who have to keep ten millions of black men in subjection to the dominant race.' The Home Secretary sent him home, scotching a challenge by 'Bombardier' Billy Wells. After Jess Willard beat Johnson in Havana in 1915, Tex Rickard made a pile with Jack Dempsey in the Twenties. Each of five fights Tex organised drew more than a million dollars at the gate - but Dempsey too refused to defend his title against black challengers. It was left to Joe Louis in the Thirties to answer back, ever so quietly. 'Uncle' Mike Jacobs, heir to Rickard's baloney, promoted Louis and told him to keep his mouth shut. White America remained unthreatened by the polite but lethal Joe. By the time Rocky Marciano arrived in the Fifties, the Mob had really moved in and boxing went off-white again. Marciano, a terrific champion, did not dodge black contenders - he took the title from Jersey Joe Walcott in 1952 and beat Ezzard Charles and old Archie Moore - but he let in some ordinary white guys, including Roland LaStarza and Don Cockell. Floyd Paterson settled in for an undistinguished reign, before Sonny Liston frightened him out of the title. A few white heavyweights popped up - and down - around this time, none of them much good: Peter Rademacher, a first-fight world title challenger to Floyd; Ingemar Johannson, who won once and lost twice to Paterson; Brian London and Tom McNeeley, father of the even more awful Pete, who would be barged aside by Mike Tyson. After Muhammad Ali beat Liston to reinvigorate boxing, he accommodated his share of pale meat: George Chuvalo, Henry Cooper, London, Karl Mildenberger, Chuck Wepner, Joe Bugner, Jean-Pierre Coopman, Richard Dunn, Alfredo Evangelista, Oscar Bonavena, Jerry Quarry... with a few exceptions, not a galaxy of talent. Quarry, Joe Frazier, George Foreman gave poor Joe Roman his few moments in the headlights, Osvaldo Ocasio went in with Larry Holmes, John Tate beat Gerrie Coetzee, Holmes got back to Scott Le Doux, Mike Weaver stopped Coetzee, Gerry Cooney and Randall Cobb were brave against Holmes... and so it went. If you were white and breathing, with the right telephone numbers, you got a shot. But the white supply was drying up fast and the meaningful fights were confined to the black contenders after the Holmes era. Between the time Greg Page stopped Coetzee in Sun City in 1984 in defence of the WBA version and Francesco Damiani beat Johnny Duplooy in an all-whiter for the WBO title five years later, only Steffen Tangstad disturbed the ebony hegemony. The spectacularly obscure Daniel Netto went a couple of rounds with Damiani in Italy in December 1989 and then Tommy Morrison stumbled on to and off the set. A couple of South Africans, Frans Botha and Corrie Sanders, are currently pressing their claims - as, of course, are the Klitschkos.