The Appapaloif Zipper

This was the nickname of a diminutive pugilist famous for a brief time in the last decade of the 19th century. An unlikely heavyweight, the Zipper stayed for the most part on the periphery of the American boxing scene, competing for small purses in bare-knuckle bouts held as far away from local New England police as possible. In his posthumously published memoir "What I Seen," Hall of Fame sportswriter Ring Lardner recalled watching the Zipper as a young boy:

Thirteen years old and I knew then and there I'd never forget the sight: this fellow about knee-high to a grasshopper so fast in the ring it was a pure human blaze of frenetic, unrestrained violence. Before the bell had stopped humming on the first round's gong the Appapaloif Zipper was cutting the big round face of his bruiser opponent to ribbons with hook and cross, jab and cross, jab jab jab roundhouse. He was a swarmer if ever a swarmer there was. The big guy unfortunate enough to be on the other side of the purse didn't last to the third. It was like watching a building engulfed in flies, only the flies were one person and two fists. When the guy didn't get up after a ten count, the Zipper did the splits. I think it was his signature.

By all accounts, the Zipper enjoyed as much success as his stature would permit for a handful of years. Many of the reigning boxers of his day refused to fight him on account of perceiving the matchup unfair - ostensibly for the Zipper. Then Gentleman Jim Corbett agreed to a bout and did not step into the ring blindly. He had heard all about the Appapaloif Zipper's technique and was ready for it. His career, typified by frantic acceleration and breakneck speed, ended just as abruptly. The fight began, the Zipper raced across the ring, and Gentleman Jim flattened him with one devastating hook. Not long after this he was committed to an insane asylum, leaving behind his wife - a mute - and their three boys Proctor, Gamble, and Ajax. It was eventually learned that the Zipper's Christian name was Appa Paloif. It was only that he spoke so fast that people thought it either his last name or the town of his birth. 

You may well be curious as to how I know so much about this strange little man. Well, I'll tell you: my father Brandeis (may he burn in hell), long a champion of the underdog, was personally avid about the Zipper. Much of my largely intolerable childhood was whiled away listening to tales of the spirited warrior Gentleman Jim ended with one stroke.