Yesterday was the anniversary of James "Rube" Ferns capturing the welterweight title by knocking out Matty Matthews in Toronto. There were about 3,000 spectators. Ferns is a fighter largely unknown even to historians, but he's actually a very interesting guy.

For a while Rube Ferns was managed by a dude named Jack Hanley, who also worked with fighters like Kid Lavigne, Mysterious Billy Smith, Benny Yanger, a few others. Hanley firmly drew the color line. When Ferns signed to fight Joe Walcott later in 1901, Hanley objected, then split

So "The Rube," this random cat from Kansas, at least on some level stood up to boxing's institutionalized racism, which led to Walcott becoming the first black welterweight champion.

Hanley later wrote a long piece for a Texas newspaper claiming Ferns got lazy, slept in until 10 or 11 every day, lost the championship because he got soft. But it was also framed by the same insecure stuff still hear TODAY: "WAHH! There aren't any great white fighters anymore!"

[Hanley also claimed Ferns signed to fight Walcott without Hanley's consent and that they couldn't back out because they owed money to the athletic club. But again, Hanley goes on to whine in a very "when men were men" tone about how the cool whites are all gone.]

Fern's ring accomplishments (mostly just beating Matthews and Smith) were overshadowed by the union work he did on behalf of miners for several decades. Here he is in 1932, fighting for the rights of regular miners like a real fuckin' guy over here.

If that's enough to convince you that he's at least an interesting character, here's a story about the time in 1902 that a horse was dragging a young girl about the street, so old Rube stepped in and served a plate of equine mollywhop. Salute this man.