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The
local boy who makes good, the stuff from which legends
are made, well, it doesn't happen often. And when it does,
that boy can just as quickly forget his friends and those
rough early days when life was no bed of roses. But not
our hero Jack Doyle.
And what a career he had: never lacking in excitement,
it had all the ingredients of a first rate fairy tale,
with the added bonus of being true. Jack climbed to the
top by fighting every step of the way, and when he eventually
scaled the summit, lady luck disappeared for a moment,
or at least it seemed so, but failure at a critical stage
proved only that a success lay in a different direction
and Jack rose even higher in the world. The Gorgeous Gael
was born in Cotterls Row in 1913 in the heart of the holy
ground, Cobh, a fact that never slipped his mind. The
eldest boy in a family of five, Jack was early in life
determined to be somebody, but a favourable opportunity
was slow in presenting itself. And when his father lost
an eye, the youngster had to find work and help the family.
The 12 year old, then tall for his age and beginning to
shape like a boxer (not the many noticed at the time)
suffered an early disappointment when he came down to
Mrs Burkes Pub (now the Daunt Bar) at 3 Harbour Row, sneaking
a job washing glasses and stacking bottles, etc. Miss
Burke took one look at the big, ungainly youngster and
refused to believe he was a mere 12 year old. Suffice
it to say Jack lost the job!
Later he was to recall those rough days with a mixture
on nostalgia and humour. But it could not have bee fun
for one of his tender years to work on tenders hauling
coal from coal boats for 14 shillings a week. There must
be a better life than this he often thought. And there
was for anyone willing to grasp at the half chance which
came their way, or were prepared to use their talents
wisely.
Realising his fortune lay elsewhere, Jack chanced his
arm and applied to join the |Irish free State Army, an
attempt which ended in failure when the officious gentlemen
in the said force, checked on his age and discovered that
far from being 18 years old he was two years younger.
Perhaps if he had been successful, his future might have
turned out somewhat different. But then, people like Jack
are predestined for greatness no matter how insuperable
the odds. And if you can't join one army then there is
always another!
So back to the coal business went out hero determined
not to fail again. Having saved enough to pay his passage
he sailed on the boat to Fishguard where he quickly enlisted
in the Irish Guards. And that was where the Doyle legend
had its beginning.
It took no great intelligence on anyone's part to realise
that the Cobhman, standing over six feet tall and with
a build to match, was a good proposition in the boxing
arena. And that is where the Irish Guards used him. As
quick as his opponents walked into the ring they were
carried out on stretchers, the victims of a vicious right
hand, which they had failed to see.
The pugilist extraordinary rapidly earned a deserved reputation
for despatching adversaries inside the distance, usually
by the simplest and most efficient manner - a knock out.
And, indeed, Jack though not yet 18, was certainly a K.O.
specialist whose lethal fists were feared whenever they
were called into battle. And that was often!
The rise and rise of Irish guard Jack Doyle was attracting
the envious eyes of boxing promoters eager to entice him
out of the army and into a professional career but as
yet they were content to follow his progress and see how
he would fare in the British Army Championships.
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