Jack Dempsey

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Lore & Background

Dempsey was one of the so-called "big five" sports legends of the 1920s. It was widely rumored that he had refused to join the military during World War I, but he actually had attempted to enlist in the Army and had been turned down; a jury later exonerated Dempsey of draft evasion. For the rematch with Tunney, Al Capone reportedly bet $50,000 on Dempsey, which fueled false rumors of a fix. Dempsey was favored by odds makers in both fights, largely because of public betting which heavily tilted towards Dempsey. The rematch was held at Chicago's Soldier Field and drew a gate of $2,658,660 (equivalent to $49,277,000 in 2025). It was the first $2 million gate in entertainment history. Tunney received a record purse of $990,445. The match was broadcast by announcers Graham McNamee and Phillips Carlin to more than 60 NBC radio stations.

Reader's Guide

Jack Dempsey's significance lies in his transformation of boxing into a major commercial spectacle. The fight took place under new rules regarding knockdowns: the fallen fighter would have 10 seconds to rise to his feet under his own power after his opponent had moved to a neutral corner. The Dempsey camp requested the new rule, which was not yet universal, be used. Dempsey, in the final days of training prior to the rematch, apparently ignored the setting of the new rule. Also, the fight was staged inside a 20-foot ring, which favored the boxer with superior footwork, in this case Tunney. Dempsey liked to crowd his opponents, and normally fought in a 16-foot ring that offered less space to maneuver. After the fight, Dempsey lifted Tunney's arm and said, "You were best. You fought a smart fight, kid." It was Dempsey's last career fight. Dempsey later joined the United States Coast Guard, and he and Tunney became good friends who visited each other frequently.

Did You Know?

• Dempsey was one of the so-called "big five" sports legends of the 1920s.
• Al Capone reportedly bet $50,000 on Dempsey for the rematch, which fueled false rumors of a fix.
• The rematch drew a gate of $2,658,660, the first $2 million gate in entertainment history.
• Dempsey later joined the United States Coast Guard, and he and Tunney became good friends who visited each other frequently.
• After the fight, Dempsey lifted Tunney's arm and said, "You were best. You fought a smart fight, kid."

The Seventh-Round Knockdown

For six rounds, Gene Tunney controlled the pace exactly as he had a year earlier, circling at range and accumulating points while Dempsey pressed forward. Then, in the seventh, the 104,943 fans at Soldier Field watched history unfold. With Tunney pinned near the ropes, Dempsey unleashed a combination of punches that floored the champion. Two rights and two lefts landed on Tunney's chin and staggered him, and four more punches put him on the canvas. It was the first time in Tunney's career that he had been knocked down. Dizzy and disoriented, Tunney grabbed on to the ring's top rope with his left hand. Dempsey, who often stood over downed opponents and rushed back at them after they got up, looked down on Tunney. Referee Dave Barry ordered Dempsey into a neutral corner to no avail; Dempsey remained standing near Tunney, observing his opponent. By the time Dempsey finally walked to a neutral corner, Tunney had been down for around 3 to 8 seconds. Barry could not start to count on Tunney until Dempsey reached the neutral corner, but he was still able to count to nine before Tunney got up. In the fight film, a clock was superimposed that recorded Tunney's time on the floor as 13 seconds, from the moment he fell until he got up. Because of this delay, it became known as "The Long Count Fight."

A Rivalry Forged a Year Apart

Just 364 days before September 22, 1927, Tunney had already dethroned Dempsey in Philadelphia, winning by unanimous decision at Sesquicentennial Stadium. The original bout had been relocated from Chicago because Dempsey discovered that Al Capone was a big fan of his and wanted no mob involvement. For the rematch, Capone reportedly bet $50,000 on Dempsey, which fueled false rumors of a fix. The Chicago venue, Soldier Field, produced a gate of $2,658,660—the first two-million-dollar gate in all of entertainment history—and Tunney collected a then-record purse of $990,445. More than 60 NBC radio stations carried the broadcast. The fight also featured a new knockdown rule, requested by Dempsey's own camp, requiring the standing fighter to retreat to a neutral corner before the count began. Dempsey, a member of the 1920s "big five" sports icons and a man whose draft-evasion rumors were later disproven by a jury, preferred a cramped 16-foot ring where he could smother opponents. This bout was staged in a 20-foot ring, a dimension that played directly to Tunney's superior footwork. Tunney, who enjoyed literature and the arts, was a former member of the United States Marine Corps. His nickname was "The Fighting Marine."

The Controversy That Would Not Die

The moment the final bell rang, a firestorm of dispute engulfed the boxing world. A 1912 federal statute, originally enacted after the riots that followed Jack Johnson's 1910 triumph over James J. Jeffries, forbade the interstate transport of fight films. Because of that law, virtually no one outside the immediate area could view the footage and verify exactly how long Tunney lay on the canvas. The controversy simmered for years until the statute was repealed and the film reached a wide audience; once fans could see Tunney's alertness for themselves, much of the heated debate cooled. Yet the argument never fully died. Boxing fans still argue over whether Dempsey could or should have won the fight. What everyone agrees on is the opposite effect the two defeats had on public sentiment. Dempsey's popularity actually swelled after losing both bouts. Washington Post sportswriter Shirley Povich captured it perfectly: "In defeat, he gained more stature... He was the loser in the battle of the long count, yet the hero." Tunney later recalled hearing the count reach "two" and choosing to wait until "nine" for tactical advantage, and Dempsey responded, "I have no reason not to believe him. Gene's a great guy."

The Last Bell and a Legend's Farewell

In the eighth round, Tunney shook off the seventh-round scare and floored Dempsey with a punch. This time the referee started counting right away, before Tunney had moved to a neutral corner. Dempsey rose and fought on. Tunney then dominated the final two rounds and went on to retain the world title by a unanimous decision. In the aftermath, Dempsey lifted Tunney's arm and said, "You were best. You fought a smart fight, kid." It was, as it turned out, the last professional fight of Jack Dempsey's career. The former champion, who had been the public's darling in both bouts—favored by odds makers largely because of the sheer volume of public betting on his side—retired from the ring forever. He later enlisted in the United States Coast Guard, a quiet coda to a life that had once made him one of the "big five" sports icons of the 1920s. For Tunney, the victory was the penultimate chapter of his own career. Two men, one ring, and a count that would be argued over for a century.