A Man's World: The Double Life of Emile Griffith

One of the podcasts I listen to a lot is the brilliant Irishman Abroad presented by comedian Jarlath Regan. Each week he interviews a guest that has some personal connection with Ireland (originally it was people who were born in Ireland and moved abroad, thence the title, but because of the popularity of the show the parameters have relaxed and he now pretty much speaks to anyone. Last week for example he had Jerry Butting and Dean Strang, the Defence Attorney’s in Making a Murderer). The episode I want to touch on this week is the one he had with Guardian sports journalist, Donald McRae.

In listening to the conversation I was in my element. I’ve always loved sport, admittedly channeling most of my passion into football, but I have a working knowledge of different ones too. The South African McRae is a three-time Interviewer of the Year winner, feted for his interviews with the likes of Chris Gayle, Usain Bolt and Andy Murray. You may remember that Gayle was in trouble a few months back for propositioning a female interviewer after a game, McRae did not let him off the hook, calling ‘bullshit’ on the cricketer’s assertion that he wouldn’t mind his daughter being treated this way. He’s an interviewer that admires his subjects but not to the detriment of asking the vital questions. His skill is turning the interview into a conversation, whereby he as an interviewer shares some of his life to get the subject to share theirs. The mistake that many interviewers make, he says, is that they go in with an agenda: the talk feels like an interrogation, leading the defendant to call ‘no comment’ in the form of platitudes and evasion. McRae doesn’t forget to bait his rod with a compliment before casting it into the water – the result? he often lands his catch.

The bulk of the interview with Regan involved them discussing McRae’s book, A Man’s World: The Double Life of Emile Griffith. Regan was obviously enthused by the biography, which made me want to read it too. The pair spoke of its genesis with McRae talking about how as a child he’d sneak into boxing matches. This was a dangerous venture for a young white boy, given how most of the contests were held in black townships. Although McRae was on the right side of apartheid, he hated the injustice of it, vowing to get out of South Africa as soon as possible. Until he could make his getaway to a foreign land, he would drink up as much black music and sport as he could, remembering of course to hide the ensuing bottles under the bed. So a love of boxing was born in South Africa, a love that has seen him go on to write two pugilist texts.

A Man’s World is a story for our time. Today in sport homosexuality is still a thing that people don't do. The Welsh rugby player, Gareth Thomas, came out after national retirement, so too German footballer, Thomas Hitzlsperger. It is admirable the stand these men have taken, but how devastating that they’ve only felt able to after they’ve left the spotlight. In life, in entertainment, in politics we appear to welcome all sexuality, yet in sport homosexuality isn’t allowed past the turnstiles. Simply in macho sports the risk is too great for players: how will their manager react? Will their teammates cope? What might the fans say? These men are imprisoned by their gender and can see no way out.

Eight years later Justin Fashanu committed suicide.

Imagine then how difficult life would be if you were a black gay boxer in the 1960’s? Life for gay sport stars today is difficult, but homosexuality is now legal with gay rights enshrined in law. It wasn’t always this way. Up until 1962 homosexuality was illegal in America: loving another man could land you in jail. Not only that but it was regarded as a mental illness. If you were gay, you were an abomination, a sick fiend that needed exorcising. In the Land of the Free so many were contained by others prejudice. If it wasn’t hard enough that Emile Griffith was gay, he was black too. His was a life of segregation within segregation. In being born into such prejudice Emile Griffith had been dealt a very bad hand; his life is a testament to how hard he played it.

Griffith was born in the Virgin Island to an unstable home. There were many children and an absent mother trying to make bread in America. As a young boy he was sexually abused by his uncle, a crime that led him to flee home. Eventually Griffith received the draft notice from his mother that he was expected in America. On arriving he worked at a hat factory where his bulging torso caught the eye of his boss. It wasn’t long before Griffith was sent down the local gym to be trained for the Golden Gloves Championship, an amateur tournament that he fared well in. Enjoying the factory work, Griffith was nonplussed by the boxing game but as his stock grew so too did his interest. It didn’t take long for him to rise through the ranks and become a contender for the major championships.

Emile Griffith.

His most famous fights were against Benny Paret. Paret was from Cuba which only intensified the rivalry between these two superpowers. In fact Castro by this point had banned professional boxing, meaning Paret had to relocate to Miami. Despite this, Paret was Cuban and therefore the enemy. If Griffith won he would become an American hero. The first fight was fought with good grace with Griffith coming out on top. The second was a nastier affair that Paret took on a dubious points decision. The final episode would be remembered as one of the darkest days in boxing history. 

The lead up to the bout was mired in hurtful name calling: Paret shocked the establishment by branding Griffith a ‘marcion’ – Spanish for ‘faggot.’ It was an open secret by this point that Griffith frequented different bars to other boxers. In Greenwich Village there was always a stool for the champ. The gay community adored Griffith because he showed you could be strong and gay. Although he could never be out as a homosexual, he had a home in Greenwich. Nearly everyone in the boxing business knew he was gay, but they knew exposing would open up a Pandora’s box of shit they simply couldn’t deal with. America was not ready to hear anyone was gay, let alone a boxer.

The famous feud.

Going into the 24^th March 1962 bout with these taunts fresh in his mind, Griffith battled hard. Unfortunately, he battled too hard. Just as a round was threatening to peter out, he launched a spring offensive so vicious that people cried at their television screens. Uppercut after uppercut besieged Paret’s defences rendering him all but obsolete. When Paret could lift his hands no more, Griffith raised his murder weapons one last time, unleashing a torrent of jabs that brought an end to the fight - and the life of Benny Paret. 

Paret was dead. Griffith had killed him. For years his ghost stalked him.

Acknowledging that death was on his hands but knowing that he had mouths to fill, Griffith continued to wade in blood like a Scottish king. Those initial fights were hard: every time he had a boxer against the ropes he saw Paret’s face staring back at him. To second-guess your instincts in any job can prove stifling; in boxing it can be suicidal. Fortunately, Griffith’s street smarts took him through this mourning period, allowing him and his opponents to come through unscathed. Over time he learnt to live with the death of Paret: he reasoned that the insults had angered him but not enough to want to kill him. It was just terrible luck. The hardest fight remained his sexuality, something that he had to keep under his gloves until late in life.

Paret Jr. later forgave Griffith for his father's death. 

The Emile story is being made into a film by the brilliant Lenny Abrahamson (Room) and will hopefully depict a brave man that fought the times he lived in and survived. In some worlds - and certainly in Griffith's- sometimes survival is the greatest victory of all.

A Man’s World: The Double Life of Emile Griffith is available now.