headway. By the end of the Century, boxing was hugely popular, partly because of some of the extraordinary characters who were appearing in it now, andwould appear in it later. There was one in particular: James Wicks. He was born in Bermondsey in 1895 and was, like George Cooper, of Anglo-Irish descent.
George and Elizabeth Cooper produced a son, Henry William, on 23 May 1901. George was 37 by then, which was relatively late to start a family. But, given what would happen within 13 years, it was a happy coincidence that the child would be spared the horrors of the Great War. By that time, George and Elizabeth were living in Elsted Street in Walworth.
Less than a mile to the north, at 39 Queen’s Buildings, Collinson Street, just off Borough High Street, on 9 October 1906, a little girl, Lily Nutkins, was born. She was to have a very hard early life. Her mother, Maria, had been born Maria Bishop, and had married Henry Harvey Nutkins, a general dealer, at some day prior to 1886. It seems that Lily was a very late arrival, as she was the second of two children, the first, Henry Harvey junior, having arrived twenty years before. Clearly this was too much for Henry Harvey senior, as, aged 50, after having fathered yet another child, he soon fled the nest and simply disappeared, leaving Maria to bring up Lily and her little brother Tom on her own. She may have had some help from her son Henry junior, but it would be unlikely to have been substantial, as Maria worked extraordinarily hard. Condemned by her illiteracy to a life of hard labour, she rose at 4 a.m. and walked to work across London Bridge to clean out the fireplaces at the Bank of England.
George Cooper was still fighting at the age of 40. His bailiwick was as extensive as ever, and his son Henry William recalled that, just before the Great War, his proudfather returned home with half a sovereign in loose change, which he had won in a brawl in a pub yard in Denmark Hill. The chances are that it had been a bare-knuckle fight, as George’s hands were so swollen and sore that the young Henry William had to extract the specie from his father’s pocket. That handful of change would keep the family in food and rent for over a week, but it was a hard way to earn a living.
Less stressful was singing. George had a fine voice, and clearly realized it, as he would use any excuse to demonstrate his vocal skills or, failing that, to tell stories. At the drop of a hat he would wheel out ‘Donnelly and Cooper’, irrespective of who was listening. Henry William recalled the memory of a slightly befuddled George telling stories to an empty kitchen in the small hours.
George was fighting professionally as well, and as a measure of the quality of his efforts he too is to be found at Habbijam’s gym. Habbijam, fighter, promoter, matchmaker and referee, ran probably the tightest ship in London; any fighter not punching his weight was unceremoniously thrown out and denied his purse. Habbijam, from Birmingham, and clearly operating on the model laid down by Broughton, was probably the most significant figure in the English (or at least the London) ring.
George’s skills were also highly sought after by such organizers as both a bodyguard and bouncer. He ‘looked after’ Bombardier Billy Wells, and was present on the door when Jack Johnson was shamefully barred from the National Sporting Club – an event which took place in 1908.
Henry William Cooper just missed fighting in the Great War. He enlisted at the end of 1918 in the Royal Horse Artillery and was awaiting his posting to go to France when the Armistice was signed in November. He became a lead rider in the King’s troop of the Royal Horse Artillery (RHA), whose role then was rather more than ceremonial.
While he may have missed the war in France, he did not, unfortunately, miss the one in Ireland. He was, of course, of partly Irish ancestry, but then so was almost half the British Army by then, so there was little
George and Elizabeth Cooper produced a son, Henry William, on 23 May 1901. George was 37 by then, which was relatively late to start a family. But, given what would happen within 13 years, it was a happy coincidence that the child would be spared the horrors of the Great War. By that time, George and Elizabeth were living in Elsted Street in Walworth.
Less than a mile to the north, at 39 Queen’s Buildings, Collinson Street, just off Borough High Street, on 9 October 1906, a little girl, Lily Nutkins, was born. She was to have a very hard early life. Her mother, Maria, had been born Maria Bishop, and had married Henry Harvey Nutkins, a general dealer, at some day prior to 1886. It seems that Lily was a very late arrival, as she was the second of two children, the first, Henry Harvey junior, having arrived twenty years before. Clearly this was too much for Henry Harvey senior, as, aged 50, after having fathered yet another child, he soon fled the nest and simply disappeared, leaving Maria to bring up Lily and her little brother Tom on her own. She may have had some help from her son Henry junior, but it would be unlikely to have been substantial, as Maria worked extraordinarily hard. Condemned by her illiteracy to a life of hard labour, she rose at 4 a.m. and walked to work across London Bridge to clean out the fireplaces at the Bank of England.
George Cooper was still fighting at the age of 40. His bailiwick was as extensive as ever, and his son Henry William recalled that, just before the Great War, his proudfather returned home with half a sovereign in loose change, which he had won in a brawl in a pub yard in Denmark Hill. The chances are that it had been a bare-knuckle fight, as George’s hands were so swollen and sore that the young Henry William had to extract the specie from his father’s pocket. That handful of change would keep the family in food and rent for over a week, but it was a hard way to earn a living.
Less stressful was singing. George had a fine voice, and clearly realized it, as he would use any excuse to demonstrate his vocal skills or, failing that, to tell stories. At the drop of a hat he would wheel out ‘Donnelly and Cooper’, irrespective of who was listening. Henry William recalled the memory of a slightly befuddled George telling stories to an empty kitchen in the small hours.
George was fighting professionally as well, and as a measure of the quality of his efforts he too is to be found at Habbijam’s gym. Habbijam, fighter, promoter, matchmaker and referee, ran probably the tightest ship in London; any fighter not punching his weight was unceremoniously thrown out and denied his purse. Habbijam, from Birmingham, and clearly operating on the model laid down by Broughton, was probably the most significant figure in the English (or at least the London) ring.
George’s skills were also highly sought after by such organizers as both a bodyguard and bouncer. He ‘looked after’ Bombardier Billy Wells, and was present on the door when Jack Johnson was shamefully barred from the National Sporting Club – an event which took place in 1908.
Henry William Cooper just missed fighting in the Great War. He enlisted at the end of 1918 in the Royal Horse Artillery and was awaiting his posting to go to France when the Armistice was signed in November. He became a lead rider in the King’s troop of the Royal Horse Artillery (RHA), whose role then was rather more than ceremonial.
While he may have missed the war in France, he did not, unfortunately, miss the one in Ireland. He was, of course, of partly Irish ancestry, but then so was almost half the British Army by then, so there was little
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