US Navy Smokers

Back in the dark ages before everyone flipped out over sex and politics, I served in the US Navy. It was hard but I didn’t know any better and so I prospered once I got to know the ropes, so to speak. Navy bases, ships, and Marine compounds had post exchanges where one could purchase whatever one needed, like gedunk (candy), sodas, uniforms and civilian clothing, stereo gear, laundry services, and even a bus ticket home at Christmas. Bases had gymnasiums, and pool halls, and a football field, and tennis courts too. All sorts of traditions went along with that stuff. One of the lesser known of these were Navy “smokers”.

Smokers were pre-arranged boxing matches that existed from the early 1900s up through the Vietnam War. These athletic competitions were held every other Friday in the evenings and always drew a large crowd. Everybody likes a good fight. Sailors who became crossways with another shipmate could throw down a challenge and the two would meet up and lace up a pair of gloves and then have it out inside a roped ring complete with a referee and a bloodthirsty crowd. It was great fun and a choice way to blow off steam and settle a score.

Teddy Roosevelt was a huge boxing fan and figured the smokers would be a great way to enhance morale and camaraderie during peacetime training. In 1908, he directed naval captains to start incorporating Smokers into the naval routine.

The matches were a hit with the Navy, evolving into formal prizefighting spectacles and even formal boxing tourneys against the Royal Navy.

Boxing is a sport that empowers human ambition and drive unlike any other form of activity. The physical preparation boxers make before a fight is unparalleled and the adrenaline rush after a well-deserved victory is irreplaceable.

By the end of the Spanish-American war, the US Navy occupied the Dominican Republic and sent a heavy naval force along the shores of this small Caribbean island in order to protect the US government’s financial interest.

Everything seemed to be going according to Roosevelt’s plan until one match went too far and turned fatal on July 8, 1908, aboard the USS Yankee. On July 8, 1908, onlookers cheered and mocked the fighters as the contestants took the stage. Raphael Cohen, a Jewish coal shoveler on the USS Yankee, awkwardly took the ring, awaiting the confident Jordan R. Johnson, a black gunners-mate from the USS Olympia, whose experience could be seen in his cold, unbroken deathly glare.

Both men came from humble beginnings, hardened by their fair share of turmoil, which may have been what brought them into the ring – or as the fighters would call it, the circle of truth. Johnson joined the military at age 15 and quickly became a victim of physical abuse by his fellow shipmates. This was easily identifiable by unexplained scars on his ribs, abdomen, and neck. Growing up, Johnson spent nights shackled in irons, which turned him into a hardened fighter and earned him fear and respect on the Olympia. The ship’s decks became his training ground as he fought anyone who would meet him.

Cohen, on the other hand, was a young man looking for his identity, merely trying to to find where he belonged in this testosterone-heavy environment. After marrying at a young age, he believed the Navy would turn him into a man (or at least the man he thought he should be) so he searched to prove to himself that he was tough enough to hang with the other fighters.

Both fighters were eager to get the fight going once the bell rang. The fully-charged Cohen fearlessly ran straight at Johnson, whose patience and experience kept him calm throughout the exchange. They fought hard, throwing caution to the wind, and neither giving in as the rounds continued.

Hundreds of sailors and Marines went wild as the two boxers pummeled one another. As each round continued, the crowd could see Cohen weakening. Even the referee questioned Cohen’s condition before allowing him to remain in what would become Cohen’s last stand.

By the eighth round, Cohen had enough, finally slumping to the ground after a crisp shot to the temple landed by Johnson left him unable to continue. Johnson was victorious. Cohen was raised onto a stool and carried out of the ring. Two hours later, he was pronounced dead in the medical bay.

An autopsy revealed the cause of death as a massive blood clot found inside of Cohen’s brain, attributed to the excessive beating he received. Captain Edward Francis of the USS Yankee later denied all involvement with the organization of the fight and reported Cohen’s death as “not in the line of duty.”

Cohen’s remains were buried in the Dominican Republic but later sent back to his family in New York in 1911. His remains were finally laid to rest in Maimonides Cemetery in Brooklyn. Jordan Johnson was cleared of all wrongdoing and left the Navy a year later. In 1929, Johnson passed away at the young age of 46, leaving the events of that day as a piece of untold military history.

This tragic event did not end Navy Smokers, but it persuaded commanders to insure men were adequately matched and protected by knowledgeable and experienced referees. Yet, the end of Smokers did arrive in the years following the Vietnam war as political correctness and the installation of females aboard Navy warships intervened.

Now, I hear tell of some installations that still employ Smokers, though it’s hard to say exactly where and when. Naturally, I am old school and believe Smokers invoke a warrior spirit and camaraderie. Maybe we should bring ‘em back and let the men be men again. What do you think?