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Publican and playboy

Donnelly became a publican hoping his notoriety would entice extra customers eager to hear stirring tales of his prizering. But a landlord had to dring with his friends, and in serving others, he would also serve himself. The debts piled up and Donnelly realized he would have to go to England to fight.

He jumped a boat to Liverpool first where an Irish publican there put him up in his rooms for a couple of nights. One night, when both landlord and his special guest were inebriated, Donnelly slumped over the table and he didn't notice this pretty young maid coming over to him and said "Mr. Donnelly you look tired. Let me take you to your room." Donnelly didn't put up any resistance. He went up, they closed the door behind them, and the following morning, Donnelly woke up, the maid was gone, and so were his clothes, his wallet, everything he owned. So he said to the innkeeper "What am I going to do? I've got to meet Carter tomorrow in Manchester. I haven't even got clothes to put on my back." A tailor was hastily summoned and found something to fit him and sent him on his way.

skeptical Londoners

The English Fancy admired clever boxers, those who practiced the noble art. They were not impressed with a fighter who relied on power and not science, a fighter just like Dan Donnelly. The Irishman tried to make a living by putting on exhibition fights, but his standing with the Fancy took a plunge, and needed to win back the respect of England's sporting gentry. The only wasy he could do this was to take a real prize-fight and defeat one of the country's top men. Donnelly was determined to show he was every bit as good as his fellow countrymen said he was. Now he would have to go into training.

training-it's a bore!

A lot of emphasis was put on exercise and a bit of luck. Boxers were advised not to eat too much. They were also advised to limit their wine consumption, not to drink any wine at all, in fact. And, of course, they were told to stay clear of women.

Donnelly's most constant training companion was a bottle of whiskey. He even took one to bed with him. He needed a drop of stuff to make him sleep. As his tour of England progresed, it was clear that Dan was far from prime condition and was paying the price for his wild ways.

triumph over oliver

A call went out: you've got to see him in a real fight. You want to see him test himself against one of the top men. A match was arranged with Tom Oliver. Oliver, unlike Donnelly's two previous opponents, was a big, strong man. He was physically a very good match for Donnelly.

The fight with Tom Oliver generated great excitement among the Fancy in England and Ireland. Many of Donnelly's supporters made the journey across the Irish Sea to see their man's first prize-fight on English soil and over £100,000 was laid out in wagers. Both men looked to be in fine shape, but in Donnelly's case, his appearance was deceptive. it soon became clear that he was far from top condition, and that he was paying the price of his wild ways.

Dan Donnelly and Tom Oliver fought at 2 o'clock on 21st June, 1819. They were still fighting an hour after the match began. Both men drew blood early on in the fight. However, this was a bare knuckle fight. Bare fists on hard bone. No man could last throwing punch after punch in such a match. It went to the 24th round by which time it was clear who the winner would be.

Eventually, Donnelly forced Oliver by using his favorite cross-buttock tactic and falling on top of him, winding him. For a while Oliver looked so exhausted that people feared for his life.

Frantic efforts were made to revive Oliver. One scribe wrote that his head hung as if it had been disconnected. Donnelly was declared the winner but the celebrations were delayed until the Irishman was sure his battered opponent had recovered his senses. Within a few hours, both victor and vanquished were drinking to each other's health at a local tavern. The most fanciful of legends about Dan Donnelly started here.

the prince and "sir daniel"

Some reports claimed that the Prince Regent, later to be King George IV, was present both at the fight and the winner's celebration party. The legend story of the Prince Regent's meeting with Donnelly is in keeping with the period, one of the most romantic, extravagant, and wildly contrasting periods in English history. It produced more that its share of extraordinary characters, but none was more complex than the regent himself.

King George was keen on women and drink. It's no surprise, therefore, that he took and interest in boxing. Thats' why he wanted to meet Dan Donnelly.

It is said that on being introduced to Dan Donnelly, the Prince said: "I am glad to meet the best fighting man in Ireland." To which Dan allegedly replied: "I am not that, your royal highness, but I'm the best in England."

Donnelly himself told the story that he was in London, he was invited to meet the Prince at his private residence, Carleton House in Pall Mall. On calling there, he was invited up by the Prince who was sitting on his throne and on his regalia, according to Donnelly, his crown and all. they had several glasses of Irish whiskey together. Donnelly was astonished when the Prince said to him that he wanted to spar with him. He said that he couldn't spar with him, he ought to be afraid of what might happen. "fear not, I want to spar" So he duly obliged. Instinctively he threw a big right hand, knocked the Prince flying back into his throne, and all apologetic. Then the Price laughed, told Donnelly to go down on his knees, took the sword and laid it on both of his shoulders, said that he went down on his knees as plain Dan Donnelly, as will arise as Sir Daniel.

Whether they recognized him as Sir Daniel or not, Donnelly's backers were more convinced than ever that their fighter could beat any man in the world. But as one writer at the time commented, Donnelly's escapades as a "petticoat poacher" caused: a disease in the the promiscuousness of his amours

It was evident by now that Daniel had no real desire to box again. He was back in Dublin running a tavern again and his premises was reporting a brisk trade. One of his party pieces was a trial of strength with a spirit jug.

A five gallon copper jug was kept a Donnelly's premises until then. It has a small plaque attached saying "Sir Dan Donnelly, Irish Champion, Pill Lane, Dublin, 1820." This was the year he died. legend tells us that Donnelly could lift it full of spirits with one arm. When empty, an average man can barely lift it with two arms. Another Irish champion of later years, Peter Maher, tried this feat, and admitted defeat, saying it was impossible.

Death's knockout blow

Donnelly went on drinking sprees that lasted three of four days and he ignored all the well-meant advice to look after his health. He was convinced that his God-given strength would resist any illness. It turned out to be a sadly misguided assumption. In the early hours of February 18th, 1820, aged just 32, he passed away. Theories as to exactly how the fighter died abounded. In one, he was cruelly felled by the surprise blow of a man described as "one of the ugliest customers Dan had ever met". His final words were: "I have been given so much and I have done so little."

It seems the most likely explanation is he liked to keep himself fit and he played a ball game called fives. he would get into a tremendous state of perspiration and would then drink gallons of cold water to cool himself down, which is not recommended. It is thought he did this on this occasion, and got some form of seizure and fell ill, and after about two days, he just expired, at the age of 32.

"Death, tyrant Death, that fell relentless foe Our champion leveled by a mortal blow None else in single combat could do him harm No human foe resist his mighty arm"

This is what the epitaph on Donnelly's memorial reads.

The sack-'em-ups

Donnelly's hollow monument

Dan Donnelly's exploits were largely forgotten. It took the prize-fighting son of Irish emigrants and the man recognized as the world's first heavyweight champion to rekindle interest in the Donnelly legend. In the winter of 1887, John L. Sullivan was on an exhibition tour in Ireland. Sullivan had been inspired by the stirring tales of Donnelly and this world champion was the first to contribute to a fund to raise the memorial obelisk that still stands in the Curragh. It's the only statue in the world to mark the scene of a boxing match. After Donnelly's death, poets, authors, and ballad writers penned their sorrows in a great profusion of published tributes to the departed champion. When Britain ruled Ireland with brutal efficiency, Donnelly embodied the struggles of his people. He took on the best men that England could find, and beat them all.

Hall of fame an Irishman whose exploits in the bare-knuckle ring made him into an early 19th century folk hero. His victories over highly regarded English opponents came in the wake of several armed rebellions and were seen as symbolizing his country's fight for freedom from Westminster rule. A monument celebrating his triumph against George Cooper on the Curragh of Kildare stands in Donnelly's Hollow, named in his honour, alongside his carved-out footprints. One of the many legends about Donnelly claimed that he so impressed the Prince Regent (later King George the Fourth) that he was granted a knighthood. On being greeted by the Regent as 'the best fighting man in Ireland', Donnelly is said to have replied, 'I am not that, your royal highness, but I am the best in England'. Donnelly's life was less than exemplary outside the ring: a heavy drinker, he never made any profit from his four Dublin pubs, and his sexual adventures led to him paying the price for 'chasing petticoats' while supposedly training for a fight in England. Even after his sudden death at the age of 32, Donnelly continued to make news. His body was stolen from the grave by the notorious 'Sack 'Em Ups' and his mighty right arm was cut off. To this day, the grisly relic remains an object of fascination for countless viewers as it travels the world in exhibitions. In 2008, Donnelly was inducted into the International Hall of Fame.

Dan Donnelly 1788-1820: Pugilist, Publican, Playboy (Paperback) ~ Patrick Myler (Author) Dhónaill Uí Dhonnghaile It was the night of the 21st February, 1820. A cold, clinging mist shrouded Bully's Acre in Dublin and the riflers of the House of Death were hard at work. Spades clattered against the frost-hardened earth until, finally, came the dull crack of the coffin lid. Then, under the dripping trees, emerged the newly-buried remains of Sir Dan Donnelly, the hero of Ireland.

Dan Donnelly died suddenly on a winter's morning in 1820. His 32 years were laced with wine, women, and blood-soaked brawls. He became an idol whose bone-crunching fists brought hope to the hopeless and gave an Empire a bloody nose. Yet in death, Dan Donnelly's story had only just begun.

They had this huge funeral procession throughout Dublin where the whole city turned out to watch the funeral procession go by and then he was buried and for the first couple of nights there were actually friends stayed watch over the grave because grave robbing was a common occurrence then. A couple of nights later it got too cold and the friends went to the pub. They came back the next morning and Dan Donnelly was gone.

Anatomy was a science in its infancy in the early 19th century. The only bodies allowed by law to be used for dissection were those of convicted murderers. Naturally, there was a far greater demand than supply, and, so, body snatchers formed an unholy alliance with prominent professors starved of human flesh to dissect. A recently buried corpse could comfortably fetch £10. A small fortune at the time which was worth risking the fate of a seized snatcher--that of swinging by a rope from the nearest tree.

Minor riots had broken out when the news got out about the body being stolen. It just served to show what a folk hero Donnelly was with the people of Dublin, that they were prepared to raise arms in defending his honor. The body had been taken to the premises of a Dr. Hall, a professor of anatomy. It was advised that he had better hand it back quickly or he would be the one occupying the grave.

Hall, at first, refused, but after a violent argument he yielded to the pressure. However, he insisted that he be allowed to keep at least a part of his prize "catch." He got out his saw and took his grisly souvenir.

It was an unusual story about if not the oldest, the most unique piece of sports memorabilia existing in the world today.

http://books.google.com/books?id=wpRkFc_v8OsC&printsec=frontcover#v=onepage&q&f=false