18/01/2026
MIKE FARRELL (Two Articles)
FINDING FARRELL: KEYSTONE TO A TOWN'S LOVE AFFAIR. 2006
The Boxing Club in Loughrea, County Galway has a long and colourful history. Over the past fifty years, the club has been affiliated to the Irish Amateur Boxing Association. It has achieved the highest possible honours, with title holders in every division from County to National championships. Ciaran FitzGerald, the renowned Triple Crown winning captain, had his first taste of front rank sporting achievement when he captured two national titles with the club in the mid-60s.
Yet a number of basic questions perplexed club officials Eamon McNally and Stephen Shields, when they began to consider the club's history, as it approached its Golden Jubilee in 2006. What was the club's genesis? What inspired its foundation? How had a quiet country town developed such a tradition, even an obsession, with the sport, which by popular account stretched back almost a century. For while the sport only gets fitful mention in the annals of early twentieth century sport in rural County Galway, there is a strong thread in Loughrea lore of boxing through successive generations.
Of the club itself, records, up to date photographs and newspaper articles had been safely hoarded: they helped to preserve the day to day workings of the club and honours achieved, and there were still sufficient people around to give an account of the club's early years, even its inaugural meeting in the Temperance Hall in 1956.
True to Loughrea's love affair with the ring, tales of earlier legends and heroes surfaced. There were stories of the nights "the sweet science" took over Joe Gilchreest's Hall back to the 1920s, adapted from its normal use as a cinema and theatre, at the ominously named "Mob Hill". Names were recalled such as George Trapp, an itinerant steamroller driver, and his legendary confrontation with local hero, Vincent Finlay, from which Finlay emerged triumphant to the prolonged celebration of the townspeople. Many other locals were mentioned in dispatches: Rouser, Dan Murray, Tommy Holland, and, maybe most revered of all, the bout between Loughrea lightweight, Fardy Whelan, and future Golden Gloves winner in the USA, Sean Hynes, which was declared a draw, but many, including renowned sports pundit of the Connacht Tribune, J B Donohue, felt was shaded by the Loughrea man.
No wonder that Martin Thornton, the "Connemara Crusher", chose Loughrea for a public outing before his much-hyped challenge to Bruce Woodcock, the British Heavyweight champion, in the early summer of 1944. The championship fight was for a ÂŁ1,000 winner take all purse at Dublin's Theatre Royal in August of that year, and such was the national anticipation that there was even talk of the winner travelling to America for an elimination bout giving the chance to face the great Joe Louis for the blue riband of sport, the Heavyweight Championship of the World.
Martin had to make do with the contents of the hat, which was passed around after seven rounds of a fine exhibition against his cousin, Sean, in Loughrea. Unfortunately the Woodcock fight turned sour early on, and Thornton's seconds threw in the towel after three punishing rounds. Thus ended Ireland's, Galway's-and even Loughrea's-emergence onto the global stage of gloved combat.
Even after the club was formed outsiders of note made their mark. John Huston, the Oscar winning film director, attended tournaments, bringing with him a large entourage. He even presented prizes after some bouts to the young, star struck boxers. Yet through the highlights of the club itself and all the memories of the fading generations, it seemed to our investigators that the story of boxing in Loughrea had not yielded up its vital ingredient, the yeast that made the whole dough rise.
There was a figure, remembered in the town in the 1930s and 40s, blinded, and guiding himself with the characteristic white stick around the town, a curiosity on the streets, where he had been born but left a generation before. He proudly carried with him a tattered, faded photograph of himself as a young boxer in his prime with the words,"Mike FarrellâŠ.born LoughreaâŠ. Middleweight Champion of Canada."
The clues were cryptic. "What could we find out about him?" wondered our two club detectives, "Whom had he fought? When?" He was related to Vincent Finlay, of the legendary Trapp fight fame. He was an obvious inspiration for an era of boxers, who had introduced the sport to the town, a worthy adornment to the club crest. The time had come to reclaim his story. But how?
Inquiries through the normal channels proved fruitless. Some newspaper reports on fights in New York turned up, but nothing like the full story. An article by Gene Tunney, the World Heavyweight champion, recalled seeing Mike take on a grizzly bear as a prank in a fairground, (a confrontation which he incidentally won by use of his ringcraft). The Woodford Historical Research Group confirmed his date of birth as 1884 at the Westbridge, Loughrea, his parents' home. Further research yielded the information that he had died at Clonturk Institute for the Blind in Drumcondra, Dublin. Alas, over the coming months, little further light was cast on this fighter's career. The trail was cold. The "Find Farrell" project was petering out.
Then in May 2005, with one of those curious coincidences that might never recur in a hundred years, a retired Dublin writer and lifelong aficionado of the fight game was clearing out some old papers and newscuttings, before consigning the bulk to his green bin. Amongst them were some photos of Mike Farrell and the published accounts of Caprani's interviews with Farrell, while he was compiling a series of articles on famous Irish boxers, which subsequently appeared in The Irish Independent in 1961.
Caprani had sought Farrell out in the 1950s, and established such a strong friendship with him that they met up on almost a weekly basis, Caprani providing a link for the boxer to his old haunts around O'Connell and Parnell Streets, after the Richmond Institute had moved from the city centre. They talked boxing. Farrell reminisced about his career in the USA. The younger man warmed to the ex-fighter's lack of vanity, his dignity. Mike, it turned out, had been involved in 386 bouts in a career that stretched from 1907 to 1918. He had traded thumps with four world title holders-Gibbons, McCoy, McTigue and Tunney-and had never been knocked out. Though only a natural (10st 7lb) welterweight, he had taken on taller and heavier opponents from the more senior, middle and light heavyweight divisions, and all of this while blind in one eye. He was probably the most important native-born Irish boxer of his era. Only McTigue, the World Light Heavyweight champion, who won his title in Dublin, could possibly overshadow him.
Loyalty to a friend, a desire to see him duly recognised made Caprani hesitate before tossing such memorabilia into a mere rubbish bin. Yet there had been no recognition of his friend in the intervening forty years. Where could his own research and memorabilia find a fruitful home? Who nowadays recalled such feats? On an impulse, he gathered all together and forwarded the lot to "The Librarian/ Local Historical Society, Loughrea", with a letter, which included the following:
"On the offchance that some local historian, or sports club, may not have details about the career of one Loughrea's great sporting heroes of the past, Mike Farrell, I thought I should send the enclosed to you in case they might be of interestâŠ."
He was to be pleasantly surprised but not as much as the team at Loughrea Boxing Club. The "Find Farrell" project, so recently "out on its feet" had got its second wind, was up off its stool, bouncing out of the corner and skipping confidently into the centre of the ring.
Loughrea's proud boxing tradition and the recorded feats of its greatest practitioner, the redoubtable Mike Farrell, were now on hand to celebrate the club's golden jubilee. And Vincent Caprani! he became a Loughrea man by adoption and an honorary Doctor of the Pugilistic Arts conferred by Loughrea Boxing Club.
Loughrea Boxing Club Historical Research Team
Irish Independent, Friday, March 23, 1961
"âŠNine, Ten, Out! - By M. V. Caprani
Irish Middleweight Fought The Best
Living in Dublin to-day is a great fighter who is a link with that great period of ring history - the first quarter of the twentieth century. He is Mike Farrell, a tough little battler from Loughrea, Co. Galway, and one of the greatest Irishmen ever to grace the American fistic scene.
In his hey-day when Farrell was fighting two, three and even four times a week, he traded punches with the best, including three world champions - Al McCoy, Mike McTigue and Gene Tunney. The newspapers record the number of Mike's contest as over 380 and this figure includes amateur, professional and private fights.
It speaks volumes for Mike's all-round ring ability that he was never once counted out. His success at the game is all the more surprising when we consider that for the last six years of his career he took on all comers, although severely handicapped by the loss of sight in one eye.
Furthermore, the majority of Farrell's opponents were men who were not only fully-fledged middleweights, but many of them were bordering on the light-heavy poundage. Mike himself never weighed more than 10st. 11 lbs. during his career and as his height was only 5ft. 4œ ins., it is easy to imagine the disadvantages which were his when fighting men heavier and taller.
CURRAGH APPRENTICE
Mike's earliest introduction to the sporting world was as an apprentice jockey at Parkinson's stable, the Curragh, but many factors contributed to his to his quitting this branch of sport. Increasing weight, wanderlust, and a passionate love of the fight game forced Mike to pull up his stakes, leave the race world behind and hit out for the U.S.A.
But he carried one souvenir of those early days as a horseman with him: it was an injury received from a stallion which later resulted in the loss of one eye, and eventually in total blindness.
Farrell's family tried to dissuade him from going abroad, but the young man was adamant. In 1907, while still in his early twenties, he arrived in New York and was met by a chap from Ballinasloe named Micky Harris, who was making his presence felt amongst the lightweights in and around New York about that time. The very next day Harris brought Mike down to the New Westside Club and there introduced him to a group of Irish fighters named Jerry Casey, Tommy Lavery, Billy Leech and Tommy Hamilton.
A warm friendship quickly developed between these battlers and the newcomer, and for the majority of his subsequent bouts Mike usually had one or more of these experienced ringsters in his corner. As he says himself: "With such men in your corner, constantly urging you on and encouraging you, you just had to fight."
Mike's close friends in the U.S.A include Bartley Madden (Co. Galway Heavyweight), Pat McKenna (Irish Middleweight, and Champion of the Pacific Coast). Pat McKenna was a bouncer in a Chinatown nightclub and was later stabbed or shot? Mike was also friendly with Marty McCue (Middleweight from Co. Cavan), who died after collapsing from a blow received in a sparring session with Roscommon Heavyweight Jim Coffefy, circa 1919.
Soon there was little they could teach the lad, and he began making a name for himself in the amateur ranks. When ran up a string of 50 wins, most of them inside the distance, and all the time he was perfecting his skill and punching power. Farrell now felt ready to make his professional debut by invading the monied ranks, and invade them he did. He scored a few impressive wins, and then the matchmakers at the New Westside Club engaged him to meet the ring-wise coloured man, the late "Cyclone" Billy Warren.
"CYCLONE" MEETS TORNADO"
This was Mike's biggest test to date; Warren was a cagey battler, who had come up the hard way, having served his ring apprenticeship in what was then known as the "battle-royals." These events were an unusual feature of the American ring at that time. The idea of the "battle-royal" was to put four coloured fighters in the ring at the same time blindfolded and at the sound of the bell all four would leave their corners and start whaling into each other. This went on round after round, until only one remained on his feet, and be he collected the purse.
It was a rugged practice, and a fighter required speed, skill and toughness if he hoped to emerge as victor. Warren was a consistent winner of these battles, and as he was accustomed to fighting three opponents blindfolded. He was not particularly concerned about meeting a single scrapper who would be conceding height, as well as weight. That's where he was wrong.
"YOU AM MAD"
He might as well have been confronted by three men for the fury of Mike's opening attack took him completely by surprise. The Irishman came in, letting punches go from all angles. It was fortunate for the Negro that he was fast on his feet. He moved back poking out his long left while Mike kept stalking him. Farrell never let up in his attack for an instant and in the third round he succeeded in ripping home with some hooks to the body which slowed Warren down considerably. By the end of the session he had "Cyclone" worried.
He knew this was the signal to speed up his attack. At the sound of the bell for the fourth round he shot from his stool and went right, for his opponent. Quickly he manoeuvred Warren on to the ropes. He kept up a powerful barrage of short-range hits and battered through the negro's guard. Then he belted a sickening right hook into the black-man's midriff and as Warren slumped forward Mike crashed a right cross to the jaw. That right did the trick. It put the big Negro through the ropes and he ended up sprawling in the front row.
Commenting on his defeat later, Warren said of Mike: "That man am mad." He never changed his opinion either. He later boxed with great success in Britain and Ireland and he was held in high regard by the Dublin fightgoers. Warren settled down in the Irish capital and Mike tells me that years later, after his return to Ireland, he frequently met Warren. Over a pint the two veterans would often discuss their various contests in the rough old days and Warren often reiterated his remark about Farrell's sanity. He would say " You am mad. Mike, you am mad."
NO DECISIONS
Although only a welter, Mike was soon engaging in battles with some of the finest middles in the Eastern American States. He had two meetings with "K.O." Sweeney, but the famous "K.O." expert was unable to drop the tough Irishman and both fights went the distance. The honours were about even and neither gained a verdict as the "no decision" rule was then in force.
As many of Mike's bouts were "no decision" affairs it would be no harm to explain the idea behind them for the benefit of any reader who may not be acquainted with this unusual feature of the U.S. in the old days.
In an effort to ban gambling, and particularly crooked gambling, on the result of fights, many State boxing authorities prohibited a referee from rendering a decision at the close of a contest. While well-intentioned, this action did not always have the desired effect. Bets were still made and settled on the following morning's newspaper reporter's verdict.
This led to frequent bribing of fight reporters to favour a particular fighter and often to back-handers to boxers for taking a dive. The "no decision" law was in force during the first quarter of the present century and it eventually fell into disuse.
Another greater fighter who provided Mike with many a good pasting and the fans with many thrills was "Bull" Anderson. In their ten hectic battles Mike reckons he just about got the better of the "Beautiful Bull" in seven mills, while Anderson proved stronger in the remaining three.
Anyway, there was very little to choose between the pair. Whenever Farrell and Anderson were billed to fight, the promoter who was fortunate to have secured them was assured of a packed house and the fans were guaranteed first-rate fighting fare.
That Mike's punching power was held in great respect by the American fistic fraternity is obvious from the following incident during his fight with the famous Billy Glover of Boston. Glover, a professor of boxing who is credited with having taught the immortal Sam Langford many tricks of the trade, relied entirely on science in the ring.
For the first three rounds of their bout it was touch and go. Mike carried the fight to his man, always, trying to find an opening for one of his dynamite-laden punches. But Glover was fast, smart, and able to avoid the possibility of having to mix-it.
"NOT TO-NIGHT, MIKE"
In the fourth session, Farrell managed to get in close, only to be tied up skilfully by Glover. While in the clinch, the Boston boxer said:
"You'd like to fight, Mike, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," answered Mike. "Let's fight."
"Not to-night, Mike." said Billy.
Not even a ring maestro like Glover was anxious to attempt out-punching the fighting Irishman. Glover kept out of trouble for the remainder of the contest, and in so doing earned a very close decision. The onlookers had been treated to the spectacle of a first-rate fighting man engaged in a skilfully and closely- contested battle with a first-class boxer.
Mike ran up an impressive string of successes scoring as many as a half dozen wins in a week in 1910. His biggest pay packet came when he fought Jules Leunard for Middleweight Championship of Canada in Toronto and earned a draw. Relating to his experience there, Mike said as the doctor examined him before the fight with a shining torch in his sightless eye he (the Doctor) exclaimed "Ah zee eye". Mike retorted "I didn't come here for a beauty contest, let's get on with the fight". In the return contest the same year Mike won the title by a K.O in the thirteenth round. Mike's manager was Charlie Desserick.
