Contrary to popular belief, past eras of boxing weren’t always everything fans and pundits dreamed of.

The sport limped through a few very tough times, and often it appeared as though everyone else wanted it gone. The early 1950s, for instance, nearly killed the sport.

From 1950 to 1955, the percentage of U.S. households with televisions went from less than 10 to nearly 80, and that changed boxing immensely. Suddenly the money stemming from a fight being taped or televised wasn’t limited to only the upper echelon of boxing stars and the take from live gates became less of a factor in the overall financial scheme. That also meant the powers controlling boxing were becoming more visible.

The International Boxing Club of New York rose to power in the late 1940s after New York promoter Mike Jacobs suffered a stroke, and various fighters, managers and venues fell under the control of an East Coast crime syndicate. It was boxing’s open secret as writers began referring to the IBC as “Tentacles, Inc.” and “Octopus, Inc.” due to the organization’s widespread reach into the Midwest and Great Lakes regions, well beyond just the East Coast.

As the IBC grew and involved more and more fighters, the federal government took notice. At the start of 1954, U.S. Attorneys launched an antitrust case against the IBC, which only further eroded the public’s confidence in the sweet science at a time when they were seeing it more than ever before. In 1955, TV networks showed 20 percent fewer fight cards compared to the year before, and boxing needed a boost as it headed into 1956.

The same year, The Ring conducted a mail-in fan poll asking about favorite TV fighters. Welterweight champion Carmen Basilio won, and former champion Tony DeMarco showed up at number 10. Basilio and DeMarco both made multiple appearances on network TV during the year, including two incredible fights against each other, making both natural choices on such a list.

Interestingly, Basilio reckoned with the IBC’s control over the sport before. The former Marine’s managers paid fees and the fighter was made to wait for title shots because he refused to outright sign with the organization. Basilio also lost a razor-close decision in 1953 to welterweight champ Kid Gavilán, who had been essentially bought off when the IBC loaned him five-figure sums of money. To be fair, the fight was legitimately close, but one wonders if Basilio might have nicked a decision in a fight with no IBC involvement.

Like Basilio, DeMarco was a durable fighter with a tendency to bruise, cut and mark up about the face, which was only made worse by an offensive-minded style. Neither was a one-punch knockout guy, but both could hurt opponents and both could be hurt. In truth, Basilio-DeMarco was the kind of matchup fans love.

As expected, Basilio and DeMarco combined made for a thrilling war in June 1955 at the War Memorial Auditorium in Syracuse, not far from Basilio’s Canastota, New York home. The judges’ cards, which all had Basilio comfortably ahead, didn’t tell the full story of a grinding and brutal affair. There were cuts over both of Basilio’s eyes and a few more inside his mouth, and DeMarco bled from both eyes and his nose. After Basilio wore DeMarco down and scored a 12th-round stoppage, the venue fell to pieces and the new champion was nearly crushed to death in his own corner by a stampede of fans who simply wanted to celebrate.

Becoming champion, and particularly in that manner, opened up numerous options for Basilio. He had to wade carefully, however, as the IBC maintained control over several stars from lightweight to middleweight. Instead of going for big fights, Basilio opted for two non-title bouts and a late-November rematch with DeMarco, who first defeated Chico Vejar in an eliminator rather than wait for a return shot.

As is, many, including brass at The Ring, felt the first Basilio-DeMarco fight was a leading contender for “Fight of the Year.” The rematch – which took place November 30, 1955, at Boston Garden in DeMarco’s hometown – somehow outdid their first clash and won The Ring’s annual award.

DeMarco liked to work at a mid-range, while Basilio’s inside work made fights difficult against most opponents. In the first fight, DeMarco’s biggest mistake was working too hard early and punching himself out by the middle rounds. His handlers swore that wouldn’t be the case this time, but DeMarco foolishly battled the same way as before. Basilio ate a lot of leather in rounds three and four as he tried to position himself for better trench warfare.

Suddenly in the fifth round, with his eyes already bleeding and his nose possibly already busted, DeMarco zapped Basilio with a left hook that sent the champion back into a corner.

The 13,300 fans in attendance shrieked in an attempt to spur DeMarco on for a stoppage, but Basilio was nothing if not hard as nails, and he made it to the bell.

After the bout, Basilio said: “After the fifth round, when DeMarco hurt me but didn’t have it, I knew it would just be a question of time before he ran out of gas.”

Basilio still had a little bit of hell to endure, though. DeMarco dealt Basilio a steady thrashing in rounds six and seven, even buckling Basilio's knees in the seventh. The champion’s fate seemed dire as he looked more and more like a one-defense champion, as DeMarco had been before him and Johnny Saxton before DeMarco. Round eight just added to Basilio’s woes as he was forced to catch a hail of shots, but he refused to go down or give up.

As quickly as Basilio had been hurt twice earlier in the fight, DeMarco’s energy and punching power vanished into thin air in round nine. Had Basilio not been softened up over the course of those rounds, DeMarco might have been in more immediate trouble. The battered and swelled-up version could still tax DeMarco to the body, though, and the latter had no way of fending the champion off anymore.

DeMarco tried to conserve his energy down the stretch and hang on to win a decision, and Basilio slugged to his body, each punch visibly draining the Bostonian. In round 12, Basilio slashed at DeMarco, landing a series of 20 or more punches as DeMarco pitched about the ring, instinctually trying to get away from the punishment. Finally, DeMarco sagged to the canvas and the crowd gasped.

The hometown fighter just barely beat the slow and generous count, only to stand helpless as Basilio landed another combination. The referee jumped to stop the bout, but he was too late to keep Basilio from landing a final right hand that flopped DeMarco to the deck face-first.

It was the fight the calendar year needed. In 1955, several world champions slowed their pace to the point that only 13 total championship bouts took place.

More importantly, the Basilio-DeMarco rematch was the fight boxing needed. It would take several years for the sport to recover from the damage done to its infrastructure, and boxing might have never fully regained the trust of the public.

In Basilio-DeMarco II, there was no decision, no bogus referee intervention, no suggestion of anyone on the take. The purity and fire of that kind of combat was honest and couldn’t deceive its viewers.

As fate would have it, Basilio was later among several fighters who testified at a U.S. Senate subcommittee hearing about corruption in boxing. The damning testimony led Octopus, Inc. toward burial at sea.