He was a little man, maybe a whisker over 5-foot-5, a lightweight/welterweight full of steam and vinegar with balls of iron at the end of his arms, fists loaded with the explosive force of tiny grenades.
He was popular among the fight crowds nation-wide but particularly lionized in Wisconsin, his home state, and Minnesota where he frequently fought and was easily recognized on the streets of Minneapolis.
He was the one and only King Tut, one-half of a fight recog- nized at the time as the greatest ever in Minnesota. He was a friend to Jack Dempsey, Hubert Humphrey and even Al Jolson, He fought 125 times with 78 wins (51 by knockout), 26 losses and three draws. His total bouts included a 15-2 record in newspaper decisions. He won his first six fights
by kayo. His knockouts generally came after implementing his crouching style to take the fight inside where he could land one grenade after another on an opponent’s chin and midsection.
Henry Roland Tuttle fought under the name King Tut, an appellation he used to increase recognition, a name chosen after he already had been known as the Blond Tornado.
The legacy of Tuttle’s namesake, the Egyptian King Tut, was becoming popular throughout the world at the time. “So dad took that name when he turned professional,’’ said his son, Jack.
King Tut’s impressive number of bouts took place over a 10 1⁄2 year span, so he was fighting on average 10 times a year, a remarkable figure by today’s standards but not uncommon at the time. He fought professionally from August of 1928 to February of 1939.
His son Jack was born the year he retired but was witness nonetheless to some of his father’s fights.
“Oh, I saw him fight a few times,’’ Jack recalled. “They weren’t sanctioned fights though and none of them lasted very long.’’
Jack described his father as an easy-going fellow under most circumstances but his smallish stature made him an inviting target for saloon toughs and drunks.
“Those fights weren’t started by him and they were over fast,’’ Jack recalled.
Jack said his father rarely talked about himself but everyone else made up for it. “Growing up, he was just my dad,’’ Jack said. “But everybody seemed to know him and would yell and wave at him across the street when we lived in Minneapolis. They’d say things like, ‘Hey, you owe me $40 bucks after that quick kayo.’ I used to live with stuff like that.’’
King Tut established one of the best Upper Midwest (Minnesota really) rivalries of the time against Billy Petrolle of Duluth. The two of them fought six times, each taking three matches, some of them in decisive fashion. They were willing to fight almost anywhere.
The first two bouts took place at the Hippodrome in St. Paul. Then they met up in Minneapolis and after that in Detroit, then again in St. Paul and finally in Madison Square Garden.
His knockouts generally came after implementing his crouching style to take the fight inside where he could land one grenade after another on an opponent’s chin and midsection.
They went 10 hard rounds in 1928 in Minneapolis and Petrolle reportedly told Tut afterwards that “he would fight for the title and he would win.’’
Petrolle had won their first two fights, the first when Tut was disqualified for low blows and the second when Tut was too cautious and lost a 10 round newspaper decision.
Tut would win on points in 1929 in Detroit, taking eight rounds according to the Moorhead Daily News and by a first-round kayo in St. Paul on February 2, 1931. They met for a final time 25 days later in Madison Square Garden and Petrolle evened the score with a fourth-round kayo.
Jack Tuttle learned much about his father from people who knew him. One of them was the seemingly immortal Jack Dempsey, whose exploits are legendary even today.
Jack Harrison Tuttle in fact was named after Dempsey, who was born William Harrison Dempsey. Tuttle was not only named after Dempsey but was known throughout most of his life as the great fighter’s godson, although he has no evidence or real reason to support it.
Nonetheless, while stationed in New Jersey in the Army he took several trips to New York and on one of them paid a
visit to the Dempsey’s well-known restaurant. The former champ was seated in a booth by himself. Tuttle caught a glimpse of him about the same Dempsey saw him and motioned for him to approach.
“I looked just like my dad and he recognized me instantly,’’ said Tuttle. “He said ‘you’re King Tut’s kid aren’t you’.’’
Dempsey and Tut were in San Francisco together at the time of Tuttle’s birth, which he associates to his naming and other connections to the former heavyweight champion.
Tuttle recalls accompanying his mother and father to a function in Minneapolis at one time and Dempsey was there, being interviewed. “Who do you think was the best ever?’’ he was asked.
Dempsey replied that one of the best fighters ever lived right there in Minneapolis and his name was King Tut.
Tut was also on a first name basis with the future Senator and vice president Hubert Humphrey as well as Jolson, the actor.
“I remember our house was pretty sad for several days after word came that Jolson had died,’’Tuttle recalled.
Spike McCarthy wrote about some of Tut’s bouts, particularly those with Petrolle, the Fargo Express, calling one of their early bouts among the best ever in state history.
Tut’s reputation preceded him. During his days in the military, word got around that the man they knew as Tuttle was actually King Tut, the fighter. “When the other guys heard that, that he was a prize fighter, they all crowded into his room to hear whatever stories he could tell.’’
Tuttle said that his father’s career as a fighter actually got started after an episode at a local carnival. When he and his companions were cheated in a certain contest and not paid what they had been promised so they proceeded to tear up the place.
“They made a mess of the carnival grounds from what I heard,’’ said Tuttle, “and they had to hop a freight and get out of town. Dad was only a teenager then and he wound up working on ranches, in rodeos and on farms. But along the tracks where they caught trains, the hobos all had their fights and that’s how dad started.’’
Tuttle said his father had so many broken bones in his hands from fighting over the years that “they were like balls of iron on the end of arms. The bones were as if they were petrified. He could break tables with his hands.’’
Or, as it turned out, opponents.
With enough regularity over a distinguished career to earn a prominent place in the Minnesota Boxing Hall of Fame.
