The Davis daughters grew up learning about their father’s athletic career in small bits and pieces of dialogue, shared with them over the years by their mother.
They knew their father had been a professional fighter, that he was a tireless worker and that on at least one occasion he was subjected to the discrimination of the times. They knew that he was industrious and sometimes held as many as three jobs and still found time to do the gym training and road work necessary to his sport.
“I was probably only four or five when he was boxing,’’ said Cheryl Pittman, Dan and Rita’s first-born. “I do remember one time that he was fighting somebody big, but the black fighters couldn’t go in the front of the building. They had to use the back door.’’
The Davis daughters, all six of them, were not aware that their father was among the best fighters in Minnesota at the time and still ranks near the top of the list. He was simply their father, the man who worked nonstop and was known as Mr. Wonderful. “He was tough. He was fast and quick, a very slick boxer who could mix it up. He did everything well,’’ said international referee Denny Nelson, an amateur boxer at the time who sparred with Davis to help get him ready for a fight against Jackie Graves. Graves was a southpaw and so Davis engaged Nelson, a southpaw himself, to help prepare him for the bout. “I think he was one of the best fighters to come out of Minnesota,’’ Nelson recalled.
Davis was originally trained by another Davis who was no relation – Harry Davis, long-time head of the Golden Gloves program in Minneapolis and a prominent member of the Minneapolis black community and well beyond.
Rita Davis wasn’t able to attend all of her husband’s fights after their marriage, yet it was because of boxing that she met him. “A couple of girlfriends and I heard about a boxing card. It was always in the papers, and we decided it might be an exciting thing to go see,’’ Rita recalled. “That’s how we met.’’ Family duties often precluded such opportunities in the years that followed, particularly once the family began to grow. For his part, Davis didn’t seem to regret the absence of a son among his six children. “No, he just said that he was lucky,’’ Rita said. “He had seven women waiting for him at home.’’
Cheryl didn’t recall seeing her father box but that was simply because she was too young to recollect those many times she accompanied him to the gym. “Dan used to take her to the gym with him when she was a tiny baby,’’ Rita said. “He had a duffel bag he used to carry his stuff in and he would put her in it while he worked out.’’
Davis had three memorable fights against World and Minnesota Hall of Fame fighter Glen Flanagan, losing decisions to him in the first two bouts, just three months apart in 1953, but finally beating him on points in 1955 with the Minnesota lightweight title on the line.
Dick Cullum of the Minneapolis Tribune wrote the following account, in part, of that fight at the Minneapolis Auditorium:
“It was one of the roughest fights the old auditorium has ever entertained. Flanagan used every trick of his long experience to fend off the persistent charges of the determined Davis. However, Davis’ aggressiveness and sharper punches gave him a strong early lead.’’ Perhaps the most heralded local fight during his career was held at the St. Paul Auditorium later that same year, 1955, matching Davis, the state’s lightweight champion, against Jackie Graves, Minnesota featherweight champion.
Any fans disappointed that the fight, which included no knockdowns, ended in a draw got their money’s worth nonetheless. Both fighters landed big punches and had their opportunities through the 10-round main event. Davis twice fought Kenny Lane, one of the leading lightweights in the world at the time, losing a 10-round decision in May of 1956 in St. Paul and by TKO in four rounds the following spring in a bout held in Chicago. Davis fought from January of 1950 until November of 1958, ending his career with a ninth-round knockout of Nat Simon in Sioux City, Iowa. Simon died as a result of that knockout, and Davis retired, distraught over his opponent’s death.
“He just couldn’t box any more after that,’’ Rita recalled. “He just didn’t feel right about it.’’ He completed his career with a 24-15-3 record that included 10 knockouts. If the Davis girls saw very little of their father during those years, it was simply because he was too busy supporting his ever-growing family. “He used to work three jobs at a time, as a maintenance worker for the City (of Minneapolis), driving cab and cleaning movie theaters,’’ Cheryl said. Davis acquired a single nickname, Mr. Wonderful , and it stuck with him throughout his life. It was a monicker he relished, and he kept a name plaque on his desk that included the title.
Cheryl recalled that her parents eventually opened a carpet business, called Ebony Interiors, that they operated for some time. She also recalled the time her father was sued for assault with a deadly weapon after he leveled a guy in the act of trying to kick a fellow in the head while he was helpless on the ground. “The judge ruled that this guy got what he richly deserved,’’ she said.
Danny Davis had a twin sister, Daisy, the only surviving member of 10 siblings that included one other set of twins. “He was born 10 minutes before me,’’ Daisy said, “and he would always introduce me as his older sister. Oh, yes, I do remember Danny and Harry Davis, and Jimmy Jackson and Eddie Lacey and their boxing. They had quite a boxing thing going.’’
Quite a thing indeed. Quite memorable enough, quite stellar enough and quite impressive enough that Davis is now a member of Minnesota’s Boxing Hall of Fame.
