At the dawn of the 20th century, not only was boxing a completely different sport than what it is currently, most states and cities weren’t even sure they would be willing to host the sweet science.

States such as New York outlawed boxing entirely, while Minnesota technically banned the sport but didn’t really enforce the ban. Other places were more flexible and would allow fighting, but limited the number of rounds and disallowed decisions or points verdicts, presumably to deter gambling.

Illinois, and more specifically Chicago, experienced a nearly exponential increase of professional fight cards in 1898 despite a loose ban. It was still mostly a sport that took place in theaters, opera houses and athletic clubs, but one venue, Tattersall’s horse-showing ring, began hosting fight cards about once every other month.

The city of Chicago built Tattersall’s as a sort of ode to its London namesake at great cost, and it was similarly meant to showcase horses. The venue could hold a crowd of 10,000, however, and fighters like the great defensive wizard Young Griffo and strong-hitting Joe Choynski peddled their wares at Tattersall’s.

One of 1890s and 1900s boxing’s most intriguing and tremendous fighters, Joe Gans, experienced a few of his most peculiar career outings at the venue. The first happened in 1898 against Joe “Kid” Robinson, a poor fellow with only one pro fight. Gans scored a hard knockdown in Round 2 and Robinson came out for Round 3 “in pretty bad shape,” one report said. Then Tattersall’s suddenly lost power and 3,000 fans grumbled in the dark for a half-hour before rainchecks were given out and Gans finished scoring his points win the following evening.

Gans’ other Tattersall’s calamity ultimately shut the place down and broke the sport of boxing in Illinois for more than 25 years.

“Terrible” Terry McGovern was the scourge of bantamweight and featherweight in the late 1890s as he followed in the footsteps of the great George Dixon by winning titles in both divisions. McGovern didn’t have the agility or skill of Dixon, but during a time when no-contest and no-decision bouts were becoming more common, McGovern knocked most opponents out. He was aggressive and a devastating body puncher.

If the crowds filling venues to watch the young, pink-skinned battler destroy opponents weren’t proof enough of McGovern’s popularity, having a part written for him in a popular stage production called “The Bowery After Dark” more than confirmed it. He also headlined at Tattersall’s, Madison Square Garden and a few of the more prominent athletic clubs in New York City during 1900. Tattersall’s paid McGovern to return four times that calendar year, including a win over Dixon, before he was matched with Gans.

Prior to the full integration of boxing, and in truth even for some time after it, there existed full, all-encompassing world titles for white boxers, and “Colored” titles for Black fighters. The history of the Black heavyweight championship, for instance, goes back into the mid-1800s and the title was held by some of the greatest fighters of all time such as Sam Langford and Jack Johnson. Other divisions also had separate Black champions, but most of the non-heavyweight titles didn’t have the same kind of established lineage and are difficult to trace and research.

As Gans fought his way through the portion of the lightweight division that was accessible to him at the time, he fought for the Black lightweight title and various state versions of the Black title. Dixon broke the mold by becoming the first Black fighter to win a world title in 1892 and others, Gans included, would soon follow. In the meanwhile, most Black fighters had to run a veritable gauntlet and there might not be a title shot on the other side.

In the last few years leading to 1900, Gans fought most ranked lightweights in big city venues ranging from his native Baltimore all the way to Denver. At nearly 5-foot-7, he stood a few inches taller than McGovern and was the kind of fighter who used his jab like a rapier. If an opponent could get past it, they were met with heavy punching power in both hands, and usually Gans was in the wind before they could return fire.

Unfortunately for Gans, his first title shot ended in a TKO loss to champion Frank Erne when he bowed out after having been badly cut by an accidental headbutt. It may not have been a loss at all in modern times, but back then it was. The optics worsened when McGovern obliterated Erne in a non-title bout at Madison Square Garden a few months later.

Despite the complexities, Gans was initially made a natural favorite over McGovern. The contract specified that the winner would earn 65 percent of the purse, and that McGovern would automatically win if Gans couldn’t knock him out before the six rounds were up. Gans also had to make a 133-pound limit not long before the bout.

The exchange of untaxed money through gambling at boxing matches was a massive legal problem for the sport. Fighter safety and public perception were certainly among reasons to organize and regulate, but money was always the biggest issue. Betting movements and tendencies also influenced potential fight outcomes, and in hindsight they could transform a dominant performance into the epitome of all wrong with boxing.

At ringside in Tattersall’s, just before McGovern-Gans began, the betting swung sharply toward McGovern not only to win but to finish him inside four rounds. Then Gans reportedly became distraught when he weighed in more than 134 pounds, meaning he forfeited half of his end of the purse automatically.

The fight was even more disastrous for Gans. McGovern wasted no time dosing him with left hands to the jaw over and over, and Gans was badly hurt in the opening round. McGovern dug to Gans’ body and landed a left hook upstairs that deposited him to the canvas. When Gans beat the count, McGovern was already on top of him and sent him down again after the bell.

In the age before an antagonist was forced to head for a neutral corner during a knockdown, the prospect of staring down an offensive machine like McGovern must have been truly frightening. Indeed, Gans appeared bewildered as he exited his corner for Round 2.

McGovern chucked his left hook and Gans went down as the round began. Gans got up, and was knocked back down five more times. McGovern lined him up for right hands on a few, and on the last knockdown, a short right hand sent Gans down for the full count.

A few local Chicago newspapers said whispers through the crowd said "fix," though referee George Siler declared there was no evidence of foul play beyond the betting movement and insisted the result would stand. Both fighters aggressively pushed back against accusations of a fix before being briefly arraigned and set loose.

Gans said: “The better man won. I have no excuses to offer. I thought I was strong, but I could not hit as I should. The worst part of it is being accused of ‘faking.'"

The explosion of boxing cards in Chicago coincided with the growth of organized crime and population in the city, though boxing teetered on the edge of being banned all over the U.S. In the aftermath of McGovern-Gans, reports of a fix resonated so deeply that Tattersall’s brass got out of the boxing business altogether. It wasn’t quickly enough to keep the venue from being shuttered and torn down several years later.

Boxing suffered much longer in the “Windy City.” The religious zealots consistently opposing boxing pressed the issue with politicians, who killed boxing in Chicago for the next 26 years. McGovern-Gans became an epithet. Decades later, it would be common to hear boxing people say that a suspicious fight "stinks worse than Gans vs McGovern."

McGovern and Gans proved their sincerity in the ring countless times after their fight. Decades of boxing knowledge has taught boxing fans that simple weight troubles can turn a lion into a lamb. In 1900, a featherweight knocking out a lightweight was apparently unfathomable enough to jeopardize the future of boxing altogether.