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By Pauline Masson –
A long washed away but remarkably substantial sandbar in the Meramec River – at approximately the location of the former Priest’s Ford – once flanked a small log hut and provided the backdrop for a spectacular bare knuckles ‘no holds barred’ boxing match that was recalled in the local newspaper seventy years later.
The boxing match was between two well known local lads, the unmistakeable hope of two pioneer families.
One was George Mcnamee, the stalwart scion of a founding family of Little Ireland who would go on to become the area’s first bonafide celebrity. The other, John Whitworth, who had the temerity to offend the young scion, would go on to be a prominent Catawissa merchant.
McNamee was 19 at the time and already a member of the St. Louis Police Department. Whitworth was 23 and well known as a purveyor of fine cigars.
Rumors of the upcoming fisticuffs captivated the community.
We can revisit all this now through modern technology of an on-line library research program that archives the big events of the past. Henry Williams, founder of the local newspaper, the Meramec Valley Transcript, wrote a from memory account of the spectacle that filled an entire column on the front page of the August 11, 1944 issue of the Transcript. The year of the actual event, as near as Mr. Williams could recall, was 1873.
“It took place at a time and place and characters involved in an incident of much importance to the participants and of prime interest to the public at large,” he recalled. “The occasion was a much publicized prize fight between George McNamee who was then on the St. Louis police force and John Whitworth who lived near Catawissa.”
Mr. Williams did not recall exactly how John Whitworth had offended George McNamee, but young George, “decided that honor and dignity of the clan McNamee must be maintained, and challenged Whitworth to a duel with bare fists, with no rules and no holds barred. The challenge was accepted and seconds were duly appointed to complete the arrangements. They set a date and the City of Pacific as the place.”
George McNamee, the offended party, made no bones about how serious he was about the challenge by going into training with big Tom Kelly, a prominent St. Louis pugilist.
The day of the big fight drew near, excitement was in the air with the public, whose interest was mainly in a good fight, regardless of the cause, eager and ready to cheer someone and that ever willing attitude of “let’s him and you fight.”
At the eleventh hour, Pacific Mayor Julius Seifert refused to permit the scrap to be staged within the city limits. After a hasty conference by the seconds, the riverbank near the sandbar and hut was selected as the site.
“That day witnessed a general exodus of all who could get away, towards the new rendezvous. They came afoot and on horseback, the latter being an excepted mode of transportation that day,” Mr. Williams recalled. “Even George McNamee’s mother was there on horseback, ready to cheer her son to victory.”
Henry Williams, a boy of fourteen at the time of the fight, “rolled up his trousers and crossed the river with the cavalcade, mingling with a ringside crowd where seconds had made everything ready,” and, McNamee’s original no rules stipulation not withstanding, the seconds established a few rules for the bout. There was to be no gouging and no interference from the spectators.
Big Tom Kelly was about in the crowd, offering odds of any kind on his pupil, but found no takers. The audience wanted action regardless of result.
“What a picture,” Mr. Williams remembered. “A little one-room log hut nestled among the tree, with a sand bar and the river for a background.”
“The trees, relics of a fast disappearing forest primeval, cast their inviting shade over a bare spot of ground surrounded by boys and men from the city streets mingling with those astride they’re still harnessed work horses had taken time out for a bit diversion and to root for their favorite. Girl and boy, man, horse and dog, an enchanting picture of anticipation devoid of tenseness, for this was only a scrap between scrapper today, friends tomorrow.”
“Seconds for both parties, soon had the decks cleared for action and action, it was, fast and furious while it lasted.
“Seconds for Whitworth, threw in his sponge or its equivalent, after a few pyrotechnical minutes, conceding, complete and unequivocal victory to McNamee and whatever it was that he was fighting for.”
In 1944 Mr. Williams reminisced over the occasion. “Many and many a gallon of water had gone over the spot that once was a ford since that day 70 years ago. The ford has long ago disappeared together with the log house and the trees that sheltered it. Only the river, and a very, very few individuals remain.”
George McNamee gained regional fame as the Captain of the St. Louis Mounted police. He died in 1934 and is buried in the St. Patrick of Armagh cemetery in Catawissa. John Whitworth, whose family settled in Catawissa in 1831 enjoyed the life of a local business leader. He died in 1884 and is buried in Whitworth
