Glen Flanagan
The Featherweight No One Wanted...To Fight
By Jake Wegner

He had a jab that coaches drooled over, the heart of a lion, and a left hook so good he was asked to write a book about it. Like an alcoholic and the bottle, we boxing fans are taken in by fighters who can take a street fight to the Fancy Dan’s or play Matador with the sluggers. Tell us that this fighter will take his show on the road and can fight like Dempsey on crystal meth, and our boxing pheromones take over our senses. When it hits…well, we’re as helpless as a kindergartener to Fred Rogers. We’ll love that fighter forever. This article encapsulates just such a fighter; a fighter whose recent induction into boxing immortality has sparked a new wave of interest in the 126 pound showman.

When the World Boxing Hall of Fame announced their Class of 2005, it did more than release a press statement—it liberated a spirit –a spirit of years long past—a spirit that at one time, was not only one of the finest pound-for-pound fighters to lace them up, but remains one of most under-rated featherweights of all time. He’s Glen Flanagan. We so often hear about fighters and their pugilistica dementia. But we fans have it too, don’t we? We don’t want to admit it, especially those of us who consider ourselves “historians”. But if we’re such experts, then how can we live with the fact that we aren’t all familiar with the career of a fighter such as Glen Flanagan?

Born in late 1926, Glen Flanagan came into the world during a period of unprecedented prosperity, but was raised though the Great Depression. Flanagan knew the hardships of life, and had felt them as well. No doubt, the time period in which his persona was formed and developed, played a great role in the formation of the character he came to be known for, both inside and outside the ring. As a youth, Glen used to go down to Pott’s Gym in the Twin Cities and watch all the big names of the era shadowbox, spar, and practice their craft. While other kids traded baseball cards of DiMaggio, Gerhig, and Williams; Flanagan studied local pro boxers like Lee Savold, King Tut, and Mysterious Billy Smith hone their trades before mirrors and fans alike. He was hooked. Glen entered the Navy and rattled off 44 consecutive victories before turning pro.
Now…it is said that a great fight will get you talked about for years, but a grudge fight will get you talked about forever. If this is true, then Glen Flanagan will be getting press for the next five centuries, as Flanagan’s entire career was a grudge fight. His very first words to Earl Kaehn, the trainer who first put a glove on the young warrior was, “I want to learn to fight dirty,” words that are not representative of Flanagan’s overall attitude and style of boxing, but rather his intelligence of knowing that even the best fighters in the world were often stocked with a “tool box” of skills not spoken of, but used discretely in the trenches—and he did. Glen Flanagan exemplified what referees mean when they warn fighters to protect themselves at all times. In 1948, a 21 year-old Flanagan showed the gameness and the grit that came to define him throughout his career. In a rivalry with fellow Minnesotan Norm Mastrian, both men fell out of the ring in the 4th round and fought alongside the ringboards before beating the count of 8 and scurrying back into the ring for more of the same. The fight was stopped in the 7th round after Mastrian had been down a total of 11 times and required several stitches along with a trip to the hospital for an emergency appendectomy. Later that same year, Glen gave some mega performances, including an exciting win over highly ranked power-puncher, Charley Riley in December; a fight in which many had picked Riley to make quick work of the crafty young feather. Flanagan won easily. Using his lip-splitting left jab and his famous left hook thrown from the hip, Flanagan busted up Riley and won almost every round. “I never fought a guy the same way twice,” Flanagan stated during an interview in the early 1950’s, “I box with the punchers, and punch with the boxers.”
While most would be nursing their wounds and avoiding even roadwork, Flanagan took another fight just two weeks later with another top contender in Miguel Acevedo, holding the Cuban national champion to a Draw. In today’s world, that’s the equivalent of fighting Manny Pacquaio and Eric Morales within two weeks time of each other! Six months later he drew with contender Ernesto Aguilar, and six months after that, Flanagan took a shot at the Minnesota Featherweight champion, Jackie Graves. Graves, had owned the Minnesota title since his 7th pro fight and was sporting a record of 64-4-1 (37), and had knocked out 7 of his last 10 opponents. Graves couldn’t hurt his younger adversary, but easily outpointed him over 10 rounds in Minneapolis. But Glen, known for his craftiness, noticed something late in the fight that he thought he could exploit—Graves was susceptible to an educated head feint followed by a quick right hand, of which Glen was a master.
Now, most guys after winning just one round against a killer like Graves, would be looking to take a couple of easy fights, get back on track, and then move forward carefully with opponents so as to not to ruin their records and thus their careers. But Glen Flanagan was not like other fighters. Self-managed throughout most of his career stating, “No damn manager is worth 50% of me. I shed too much blood to be cut up in my own corner too,” and always one to avenge his defeats, Glen publically called-out Graves right away for a return bout the very next month. It worked. A different Flanagan entered the ring that night, and knocked out the highly-rated Graves in just 3 rounds, taking the state Featherweight title in the process. One month later he whipped future Lightweight Champion, Lauro Salas, followed by a solid performance and victory over world-rated Chico Rosa. In a period of just 13 months, Glen Flanagan had posted impressive victories and/or draws over 6 world-rated killers. The Irishman with the hammer-like jab and the strategic game plans of a Russian chess player, was a wanted man.

By 1952, Flanagan was now rated as one of the top-five featherweights in the world, and was set to face the undefeated Gene Smith in Madison Square Garden in April of 52’. Smith, a world-rated fighter himself, was sporting a KO percentage of 76% and had recently knocked the senses out of contender Corky Gonzales. Smith floored Flanagan twice in the 5th round, but something happened to Flanagan after the second trip to the canvas. Glen felt something run through his veins. He recognized this sensation as one part adrenaline, two parts Irish pride. Glen got up, smiled at Smith, and returned to his corner. From the start of round 6 through the rest of the fight, Flanagan had Smith more confused than a hungry baby in a topless bar. He lost the decision and the crowd booed loudly. What happened next? You get extra credit points if you guessed that Flanagan challenged Smith to an immediate rematch. He did, and won a unanimous decision in Smith’s hometown of Washington D.C. Glen Flanagan was death in rematches, as he avenged nearly half of his losses; something most fighters won’t even risk attempting for the health of their records.

The victory over Smith catapulted Flanagan into a shot at the interim Featherweight title against Tommy Collins, as the title was vacated by Sandy Saddler while he was in the Army. Flanagan, who went into the fight with an injured right hand, was met at the airport by Collins, who ribbed him saying, “I just wanted to see if you had the guts to show up Flanagan. If I were you, I’d get back on that plane before you get killed. You won’t last three.” This is the same Collins who just two months earlier knocked out the great Willie Pep. Flanagan smirked and looked Collins right in the eye and said, “Just so the check don’t bounce buddy.” Flanagan lost the decision to Collins in a heart-breaker. The following year he began what came to be a three-fight rivalry with fellow Minnesotan, Danny Davis. Davis, a skilled fighter in his own right, was no joke, and was a highly regarded comer with a great right cross and crazy speed. They battled it out for 10 fierce rounds and the end result was a victory for Glen. They again fought later that same year for the vacant state Lightweight title and the result was the same, with Flanagan taking home the state crown, as he now held both the Featherweight & Lightweight titles in Minnesota. Glen then went onto to post nice victories over Charley Riley and Sonny Luciano before facing the immortal, Jimmy Carter in August of 54’, dropping a 10 round decision in Chicago.
By the 1955, Glen was nearing the end of road in his career. He was no longer at his peak, but was still capable of splitting some lips and clever enough to usurp the young comers of the game. He started that year off with a difficult fight against fellow Hall of Famer, Duilio Loi; losing a tough decision down in Miami. He fought a few more times that year, including an epic 3rd match with Danny Davis. This time, Davis came out the victor, and took Flanagan’s state Lightweight belt. A few months later, he retired former rival, Jackie Graves via the KO route in the 3rd in 1956. After this win, Glen seriously contemplated retiring, but instead fought five more times before doing so; going 3-2, including a big win over highly rated Bobby Bickle, showing the younger that he still was dangerous. He then retired and went into sales. This lasted for four years until Glen realized just how much he missed hitting people and announced his comeback in 1960, and fighting journeyman Bobby Terrance and taking the victory as well. He then faced Terrance again a month later for the vacant state Welterweight title and won a lopsided 10-round decision. Glen had now won a state title in 3 separate weight classes in his long and illustrious career. He took one more fight in April of 1961 with the tough Javellana Kid—a man known for his dirty ring tactics. He was about to learn a few lessons from the grand master of dirty warfare in Mr. Flanagan. Glen boxed the ears off his younger opponent, and roughed him up in the clinches so much that the Kid was a mess. Glen laughed and chuckled and enjoyed himself out there, as the Kid tried to figure him out. In the 7th, the Kid got frustrated and tried to hit Flanagan low when on the inside, but Glen made him miss and proceeded to show the Kid the correct way on how to properly nail a guy in the balls. Referee Pete Morelli saw it and immediately deducted a point from old Glen. Flanagan laughed it off, knowing it was his last fight. But the point deduction cost him his final victory, as the scores then ended up being a Draw.

When it was all over—when the fans went home, the bruises had healed, and the smoke had cleared, a legacy had been left behind. Glen Flanagan personified what it meant to be tough, tactful, and skilled all-in-one. He was a boxer who fought three world champions and 26 different ranked fighters for a total of 35 times (he fought some more than once). A slugger who wasn’t afraid to take his show on the road and face a killer in his own backyard with hand-picked judges. A pugilist whose style and wit befuddled opponents from which sprang memorable quotes such as the one from Hall of Fame Lightweight champion Jimmy Carter, who said while shaking his head after their clash, “Glen Flanagan is the cleverest boxer that I ever fought,” (and Carter fought them all). A game scrapper who often fought opponents much heavier than him because he loved to fight. On top of all of this, Flanagan competed in what historians call the most talent-rich era in Featherweight history, being ranked a total of 29 months. His 84 wins are almost more than recent stars Manny Pacquaio and Prince Naseem Hamed combined! And all this in an era of just 8 weight classes, with only one recognized champion, period.

In a sport where most participants either come from prison or the streets (and usually return); Glen Flanagan’s life is a shining reminder that there are glaring exceptions to the usual sad paths most boxers’ lives take. Most professional boxers stick around too long, lose their reflexes and speed, and thus end up taking exuberant amounts of punishment and KO losses at the tail ends of their careers. Most boxers, having come from nothing, also have no financial management skills, and thus end up penniless and punch-drunk. Glen possessed the intelligence and personal honesty with himself to know when to get out of the game. After drawing with Javellana Kid in April of 1960, a fight Flanagan was winning until he lost a point for a low blow (most likely intentional), Flanagan soaked his sore knuckles for the last time. He was 33.
Glen, earnings still in the bank, a nice home in the suburbs, and an Ozzie & Harriet family to boot; went into real estate and the insurance business. Applying the same dedication and acumen that made him a wily professional boxer, Flanagan made a name for himself in the community, the business world, and at home.

Sadly, while vacationing in Mexico with his family in January of 79’, Glen suffered a massive heart attack and died shortly thereafter. He was just 52. Newspapers around the world ran the story. Local columnists who followed Flanagan’s career decades earlier, wrote moving and heartfelt obituaries. The boxing community took a ten count. Glen himself, had never heard one—in 120 professional fights, he was never knocked out (His loss to Danny Martin in May of 47’ was stopped due to a cut, not a punch).

Though some the dynamics of the game have changed over the years, fans have never lost their desire for likeable talents who give it all in the ring and leave nothing behind. The life and career of Glen Flanagan is proof that the Irish sometimes bring more than luck to the table—sometimes they bring a jab, a hook you never saw coming, and an occasional “accidental” foul to let you know what kind of night you’re in for.