WHERE THE RED FERNS GROW…THE STORY OF SILK’S GROVE
South St. Paul’s forgotten paradisaical prize ring
I had been reading about it for a while; this “cloak and dagger” piece of land, which to most, served as one of the most scenic and relaxing spots in Saint Paul during the 1870’s and 80’s. Churches took riverboat excursions there for 4th of July celebrations, and journalists often wrote of a tract of land about a mile south of Kaposia that served as a hot spot for large picnics and fun. Known to all as “Silk’s Grove”, this scenic and lush plot of land had a secret; for the grasses that absorbed laughter and games, also soaked up blood and spit. And the many oak and spruce trees that made for excellent hide and seek spots, also made for strong ring posts. It was indeed, a picnic paradise…and a prize ring secret. Yet today, some 126 years later, time has managed to erase them both. Perhaps it is precisely this fact that led many to tell me that finding this spot would be almost impossible. Oh, ye of little faith.
When most of us think of boxing fights, we naturally picture them in large arenas, armories, or auditoriums, yet in 1880’s America, prizefighting and the law were at odds, and many “sneak fights” were indeed held in remote outdoor locations. But the more promoters turned to Mississippi barges and secret halls, the wiser the Twin Cities police became to those venues. Officially, there were no laws in Minnesota against prizefighting until 1886. That did not mean fights were given a free pass up until that time. Far from it. Prior or 1886, prize fighters still were often arrested and charged with disturbing the peace as well as assault and battery. Zealous Reformers of the day began to push authorities harder on preventing fights from happening. Though the charges of the time were only misdemeanors, the prevention or interruption of a fight could cost a promoter a lot of money. As a result, they began to get more secretive out of fear of this police interaction killing ticket sales, betting, and ultimately, the gate itself. To stage a prizefight and get away with it, one had to stay one step ahead of the fuzz. This meant getting creative. St. Paul fighter, turned promoter, John S. Barnes, was every bit of that.
In November of 1884, Barnes was to fight Tom McAlpine at an undisclosed place near St. Paul. The Reformers of the day urged the police to find out where this was to occur and to put a stop it. Barnes urged the need-to-know basis ticket holders to meet down at the Eagle Street Landing at 2:00 pm and board the steamship Luella. From there it was said they would be taken to the location of the action. The ship stopped at present day Pigs Eye Island where Barnes proceeded to pound McAlpine over seven brutal rounds. But Pigs Eye Island was still inside Ramsey County limits and Barnes had the Luella sail a little further downstream before turning around to bring the satisfied crowd back to Saint Paul, as he had promised them a little excursion down the river before turning back. It was not long before Barnes noticed the scenic plot of land about a mile downstream past Kaposia village. A few people commented on how that was their annual picnic spot for the 4th of July that the St. Paul Cathedral brought them to via steamboat. It was then t hat Barnes first got the idea of using this lush spot by the shore of the river as a future scene for a prizefight. This place was called Silk’s Grove.
Silk’s Grove was a tract of land which occupied the western bank of the Mississippi River in South St. Paul, and was owned by John Silk, the famous early settler of the Kaposia area. It was lush and green by the river, and thickly wooded a little inwards with a shallow stream that cut into it at an angle. Silk himself, did not live there, but did allow this beautiful undeveloped tract of land to be used by those within the community for their enjoyment, particularly the Cathedral. People loved playing games on the green grass and picnicking under the canopy of shade provided by the many trees. It was a fantastic, yet calm place that the people came to love. Perhaps it was the fact that it was used by so many church groups that inspired Barnes into thinking of it as the ideal location to host a prize fight with minimal risk. After all, it was out of the reach of Ramsey County authorities, and practically the last place one would think a match would be hosted from. Barnes’ intuition would prove correct. It would not be long before the innocent grounds of Silk’s Grove would get its first taste of blood.
The Cardiff-Wilson Affair
In the spring of 1885, a very loud, very intense, rivalry began to take public form between the two best Heavyweights the Northwest had to offer, in Patsy Cardiff and Billy Wilson. Besides being a powerful man who could take a punch as well as he could give it (and he could really give it), Wilson was also black. Few fighters in 1880’s America would agree to face black fighters and drew the color line often. Wilson’s handlers had been bragging for months that he was the best Heavyweight in the land, barring John L. Sullivan. Wilson was powerful indeed, but at this point in his career he was just starting to develop as a complete fighter. He had been relying almost completely on raw talent and power to win matches, and had just astonished the critics with his 1st round demolition of the highly regarded Mervine Thompson, for the vacant Heavyweight Championship of the Northwest. To be clear, the Heavyweight Championship of the World was, and continues to be, the highest title in existence, but in the late 19th Century, the many of the best fighters in the country were located in the Northwest, and as such, holding a Northwest title, was about the 2nd highest title a fighter could possess.
Enter, Patsy Cardiff; a recent transplant from Peoria, Illinois by way of Ontario, Canada. Despite living in Chicago for only a period of months, he was known as the “Peoria Giant”, a name bestowed upon him by his former manager, Charles “Parson” Davies. Patsy Cardiff was a man known for his punch, but more so for his ring science and generalship. He had already won the Heavyweight Championship of Illinois by beating James McClarney in 1884 while fighting for Davies. After a highly publicized argument and split with Davies, he left Illinois and took up temporary residence in Minneapolis where his brother James was living. But it would seem that the Twin Cities were not big enough for both himself and Wilson, at least not with a black antagonist writing letters to the Sports editor on a weekly basis calling him “yellow”. On May 29th, 1885 both men signed articles making the much talked about fight a reality.
John Barnes himself was a big believer in both men. Despite the fact that Wilson was the champ, most men still considered Cardiff to be the best Heavyweight around…but not Barnes. He thought the smart money was on Wilson, and did not believe the defensive skills of Cardiff could elude a power-puncher like Wilson in a finish fight, which it was scheduled to be; that is, the fight would only end at the knockout of one of the combatants. The fight was not one that went unnoticed by the authorities, as many were guessing as to where Barnes would stage the hotly anticipated match. Not only was Barnes constantly changing the date in the papers to throw off the authorities, but he also was tossing out multiple venues as to the place for the fight. No one could keep up with it. Barnes knew all along where he wanted to host the event, but only he knew. He could not stop thinking of that pretty spot on the bay in South St. Paul.
When the day of the fight arrived, they boarded the riverboat at the Chestnut Street landing and went downstream. Stories of the day, say that the authorities were waiting on the land known today as Pig’s Eye Island, but the boat with some 700 people on it, kept chugging right on by further south. They did not stop until they threw down their landing board at the upper most point of Silk’s Grove. They then sojourned a ¼ of a mile southwest until they found the sanguine spot that Barnes wanted to pitch the ring at. They did so, and at about 5:20 pm the fight began. It was a rough and tumble affair, with both men breaking the rules, Cardiff more so than Wilson, as Patsy resorted to using wrestling tactics allowed under the old London Prize Ring Rules, but no longer allowed under the jurisdiction of the very same edicts we use today, called the Marquis of Queensbury rules.
Both fighters were said to have went at it hammer and tongs in the first three rounds with little science to show for it, but it was Cardiff, who when in trouble, repeatedly threw his dark antagonist many times throughout the contest. Referee Pat Conley, surprisingly allowed Cardiff to get away with these tactics which greatly weakened Wilson, who already had a reputation for having a low reserve of stamina. Wilson did get in many telling blows however, one of which closed up Cardiff’s left eye, and punished him with wicked shots to the body that changed the tint of Patsy’s skin, but in the end it would not be enough. Both men had their lumps when the 9th round started, and Wilson bled freely from his mouth. They went at each other quickly but Wilson began to tire and wilt. When he did, Cardiff tore into his sable opponent with a two-fisted attack that put Wilson down and out. He tried, but could not beat the count. When it was over, Cardiff was the newly recognized Heavyweight Champion of the Northwest, and the era of Cardiff was born in Minnesota. Cardiff quickly became a local sports icon in the Twin Cities, and after this fight, stated that Minneapolis was his new home from that day forward. He was even offered a part ownership in a sports saloon just off of 2nd Ave. & Washington. But as famous as this fight was in our state’s history, there was another more famous, more brutal battle that occurred at Silk’s Grove, and its one worth the time expanding upon. Fate would prove to play a role in who else would fight next at this hidden locale. History would later reveal the deep rivalry between Patsy Cardiff and Pat Killen to be one of the greatest in state history, and this is really how it all began. Enter, Pat Killen.
Killen vs. Lannon
Ever since Patsy Cardiff and Parson Davies split ways in 1884, Davies had been looking for a Heavyweight capable of beating Cardiff. Davies was a well-known manager and trainer of top-notch talent in those days. He made exuberant amounts of money off of finding unknown men with pugilistic talents and refining their abilities with both the advice and tutelage of himself and his chief trainer, Tom Chandler, who was the Middleweight Champion of Illinois, and then traveling about the country touring with his group of “unknowns”, challenging all the local city and state champions at various weights that his “unknown” nobodies could beat their local favorites. Naturally, many of Davies’ “unknowns” became quite well-known, and subsequently had to cease traveling with his pack. But during this renaissance of pugilism in 1880’s America, Philadelphia was making a name for itself as one of the top cities of talent when it came to fighters. One such talent that Davies heard about was a Heavyweight by the name of Pat Killen, a fighter that all of the writers said was knocking men stiff, both in the bars and in the prize rings. Killen was no joke. He was described as the fastest Heavyweight around, both in hand speed as well as foot. He also was a friend of the legendary Jack Burke and under his watch had learned to be one of the best counter-punching men in the game. There are still a great many boxing historians to this day that assert and maintain that Pat Killen possessed a punch in either hand, more devastating than even that of the immortal John L. Sullivan. Killen was that good. Davies took him under his wing and immediately put Chandler to work on his conditioning. Pat continued to improve his craft, as he knocked men out from town to town as “Davies’ Heavyweight Unknown.”
Davies believed in his heart that in Killen, not only did he have a man who could beat Cardiff, but also a man who could one day win the Heavyweight Championship of the World. Davies petitioned John Barnes and Pat Conley to get Joe Lannon into St. Paul for a fight in November of 1885. This was a strategic request. For not only was Lannon known as one of the best up and coming Heavyweights in the world, but he was also a man that Patsy Cardiff has sidestepped more than once. Many predicted the skilled fighter from Boston to beat “Davies’ Unknown”. Big money was backing Lannon as one of the “coming men” of his era, and Davies thought that by having young Killen beat Lannon, it would not only gain Pat notoriety and attention, but would also position him nicely for match with Cardiff and his title.
John Barnes had heard of Killen, but was not yet ready to cast his lots with the young and unproven unknown. The fight was scheduled to take place at an undisclosed location not far from the Twin Cities. Killen, however, had recently fought in Chicago on a tour for Davies, and had broken his right hand in his last match with Jack Morris and it had not completely healed. Nevertheless, he agreed to the match. Lannon had arrived early to finish his training. On October 30th, he fought a 4 round setto with Jim Brady at the Olympic Theater in St. Paul. He showed himself well and was credited with the victory. His showing gave him considerable amounts of new fans and betters going into the fight with Killen. Pat Killen arrived on November 4th from Chicago around 5:30 p.m. with his trainer, Chandler. They were greeted by dozens of curious onlookers, all wanting to catch a glimpse of the man with the fearsome power. They proceeded to the Ryan Hotel, where they were followed by the crowd all asking questions. “What weight will you be for the fight Pat?” cried one reporter, “I will be 193 pounds, down from 210 just three weeks ago,” was the Unknown’s reply. Like Lannon, Killen was unbeaten. When asked of his record, he told them that he was 7-0, all by knockouts, but that if you were to count his battles while on exhibition tours out east, he’d have close to 50 unbeaten battles. Naturally these exhibitions did not count on Killen’s record, but he must have known full-well the value of pointing out that no man, legitimate fight or soft sparring match, had ever been able to stand up before him, even in exhibitions, as his fists had put them all to sleep.
Chandler announced that he and Pat would be doing some friendly sparring the following night at the Olympic Theater. Parson Davies had made these arrangements prior to Killen coming to town, despite Olympic Theater’s manager, Pat Conley, wanting Killen to do a full-fledged exhibition. Davies knew that Pat was hurting, and did not want him further injuring his hand, and insisted that if the people wanted to get a look at Killen, it would be friendly with Chandler or none at all. Fans were impressed with the speed and finesse shown by Killen that night, but disappointed in the fact that he refused to get serious and knock out his trainer. The following day, drew the ire of Minneapolis sporting men, as it was announced that this fight would determine the Heavyweight Champion of the Northwest, a title that all knew rightfully belonged to Cardiff. This was merely a publicity ploy designed by Parson Davies to get Cardiff’s goat. It worked, as Cardiff announced that he wanted to face the winner.
The 8th of November had arrived. The 6:20 am train from Chicago brought in prominent businessmen from the Windy City, all wanting to wager on the result. Another train followed shortly after, carrying a large delegate of notables from St. Louis. The excitement held St. Paul with a tight grip. The Reformers kept urging the police to find out where the fight was to take place and to arrest all involved, but Barnes kept the entire city guessing. Only those who had purchased a ticket were told the pertinent information of where to meet and when, and even they were not told the ultimate location. The public speculated that the fight would be held at Silk’s Grove since that was where it was learned that Barnes staged the Cardiff-Wilson affair and urged the police to intervene, but Conley and Barnes threw static and confusion at that suggestion by telling the papers that the fight would be further downstream than that. Conley stated that if people wanted to waste their time and travel to Silk’s Grove, that he might consider stopping and picking them up along the way for a higher fee. This confused the city as to just where the fight would take place. But contrary to the popular notion of Barnes and Conley being afraid of the police, they were more afraid of crashers. Silk’s Grove was out of the jurisdiction of the Ramsey County authorities, and Dakota County was not well-enough organized to prevent the fight. If someone was going to kill this bout, then they would have to nip it in the bud by preventing people from leaving Saint Paul on the steamer. Crashers were a legitimate concern; those who on foot traveling to Silk’s Grove and seeing for free, what others on the boat were paying for the right to witness. This had happened to a smaller extent with the Cardiff-Wilson fight, and they did not want to see this happen again.
At 1:30 pm the boat left the Chestnut Street wharf and headed down the Mississippi. It was a chilly November day, but that did not stop the people from coming. Furthermore, the St. Paul police force allowed people to board there because they were assured that the violence would not be occurring inside their jurisdiction. It was speculated that Barnes had made a deal with the police. The Reformers were furious. Nevertheless, people came in droves. There were shuffle board games and other small gambling tables set up on board, and the people were delighted. The ship tugged downstream and as it came to Silk’s Grove, there was a large contingent of people there waiving their arms in the air. Some on board thought they were bandits, bluffing their distress and urged Barnes not to pick them up. Barnes did anyway. After they had boarded, Barnes himself smiled and got off with his cash tin. All on board laughed and said, “mighty clever trick”. Barnes knew all along that he wanted to stage the fight in Silk’s Grove. And though he managed to collect from the people who boarded there, thinking that the final destination was further downstream, there were quickly other crashers that came running from the nearby village. Billy Wilson, who had recently lost his title to Cardiff, was chosen to be the referee, and in doing so, inadvertently became the first black man to referee a prizefight in state history. At 3:50 p.m. Killen threw his hat inside the ring, putting all on notice that he was ready. Five minutes later, Lannon did the same. After being doted on by their seconds for a few moments, both men stripped and toed the line at precisely 4:01 p.m.; Killen wearing his trademark light pink tights with black shoes and Lannon wearing blue tights and dark shoes.
Lannon did his best fighting in the first three rounds, bloodying Pat’s nose in the first, and getting in some heavy blows in the second, before Killen caught him with a strong counter left hook as Lannon was attempting an uppercut, which dropped the Boston man on his rear. Pat continued to counterpunch, taking his time and picking his shots, catching Lannon whenever he tried to lead and come inside. At some point in the 3rd round, it was reported that Killen re-broke his ailing hand, but he continued to fight with it. Many fouls by both men occurred, and it got ugly, but Lannon was getting weaker by the round, as Killen’s body blows and punches to the heart took a lot of steam out of the Bostonian. Both men were spitting blood by the end of 5th, a round in which Lannon again hit the ground. In between rounds, both fighters were seen being given massive amounts of whiskey to warm them up. Killen’s pummeling of Lannon continued, as Lannon went down again in the 6th and 7th stanzas, but would not give up trying for the knockout blow. By the start of the 8th, it was reported that Lannon could hardly come to the center of the ring, as he was wobbly and groggy. Killen was not hitting with the force he had shown in previous rounds, as his hands were sore and the cold weather was getting to him. Still, Killen tore into his foe late in the 8th round and sent him down for the 5th time. Lannon once again got up, but took a terrible pasting as the round closed. In the 9th round, Killen ended things with a hard right that sent Lannon crashing on his face. His seconds ran to assist him from the ghastly collapse. Referee Wilson, ruled the fight a knockout victory for Killen, as he stated there was no way possible the Lannon would have ever regained his feet within 10 seconds, had his backers not come to his aid. Even after they brought him to his feet, he collapsed again. Both men were a sight at the conclusion, but the crowd was well satisfied. The cold earth was covered crimson with both men’s DNA, and the crowd quickly got back on the boat, as both Killen and Lannon were helped to the ship by their handlers. They all arrived back in St. Paul at 6:15 p.m. and Killen, Chandler, and Davies caught the 8:40 train back to Chicago that night.
In the end, the crashers still crashed the gate. For all the abuse he took in the fight, Lannon was paid just $25.00 (about $600 today), while Killen did not get much more at just $34.50 (about $825 today). This would later prove to be one of principal reasons Killen split ways with Davies later in 1886, as he felt he should be taking a higher percentage of his winnings, as he was supposed to have received around $300 for the bout. These were paltry sums indeed for the intense beatings each man incurred.
The Aftermath…
After the Killen-Lannon battle, the word was out about the “double-life” Silk’s Grove was leading. Local authorities were promising not to look the other way anymore, they couldn’t, as a new state law banning prize fights was going into effect on January 1, 1886 (thought it would later prove to be one that was rarely enforced. Barnes never again considered Silk’s Grove for a fight. It was a gate crasher’s heaven, and without a gate from which to pay the purses of the fighters and their managers, you could not put on a fight at all. Silk’s Grove the prize ring, was no more. It had served its role, albeit a short one, in the annals of Minnesota boxing history, and its historical significance remains multi-dimensional. In just two prizefights, it was host to one Championship title fight, the site of the first African-American referee in state history, and marked of the beginning of the eras of Cardiff and Killen in Minnesota; two of our greatest Heavyweights who both made Minnesota their home after fighting their matches at Silk’s Grove, and whose rivalry and presence divided Minneapolis and St. Paul like few fighters have since.
The importance of the lush piece of land known for its colorful landscape and 3-D view of the river that brushed beside it, is now secure. It is no longer a mystery buried beneath the rubble of the past. For the one large tree that still stands there, is the only living witness to the laughs and the joys of Silk’s Grove, as well as the blood and violence that once stained its grasses, and he’s not talking. Exactly where is Silk’s Grove located? What is in its place today? And about where did the fights occur on the land? The area once known as Silk’s Grove now is the piece of land that stretches from where Bridgepoint Way and Hardman Avenue S. intersect and then the short distance to the river, all the way down to where S & S Tree is located at Armour Avenue, and then to the river. The exact spot where the 24 foot ring was pitched for these fights is not 100% known, but based upon descriptions in the newspapers of the time that gave details of about how far they walked southwest from their landing point, we can be very close in guessing that the ring was pitched on the present day vacant land that runs between the Holtkotter-Luechten plant’s south parking lot and the property of S & S Tree. There, you will find the large tree that I spoke of. Based off of the evidence uncovered, the ring was likely pitched southwest of that tree towards Hardman Ave. about 30 yards from the street. So the next time you drive in South St. Paul and have a chance to swing by old Hardman Ave S., drive just a little slower as you go by this piece of land and see if you can’t hear the ghosts still cheering. For if there is any truth at all to the native beliefs about blood and the energy left behind from it, then this piece of land still has four rough inhabitants. Watch your back.
