Fighting roosters ruled Madera

For The Madera Tribune

Cockfighting has always been popular in Madera. Posing with their birds before a fight in 1905 are, clockwise from top left, John Barnett, Walter Brown, Frank Barnett, and Fred Barnett. John Barnett later became sheriff of Madera County.

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“Two men arrested in cockfight raid at Madera home.” “Deputies arrest 2 at cockfight.” “Maderan faces cockfighting charges.”

These recent headlines in the Madera Tribune give evidence of the persistence of cockfighting in our fair city. This illegal practice of pitting rooster against rooster in a fight to the death seems almost impossible to stamp out. It appears that on any given Saturday night a cockfight is in progress somewhere in Madera or its environs.

Law enforcement officers are perhaps puzzled by the tenacious hold gamecocks have on some of Madera’s residents, but they don’t have to be. It is a tradition of sorts. There has always been rooster fighting in Madera. From its birth in 1876 right up to the present day, cockfighting has had its local devotees. For a prime example of this, just consider the Valley cockfight championship of 1890.

Shortly before Christmas,1889, negotiations were opened up between the citizens of Madera and Merced. A cockfight was proposed, in which the Merced group would transport their roosters to Madera on February 1st, 1890, to settle once and for all which town had the bravest birds. This was to be the third such competition, and Merced had yet to go home the winner. Our neighbors to the north were hungry for a victory.

It was decided that each city would bring 11 birds to the fight. The first to win six matches would win the main and take home the booty; the losers would bury their birds.

News of the impending battle spread quickly, and on the appointed evening, cockfight fans poured into the arena. The Fresno Expositor reported that “A large contingent of Fresno sports were on hand, and they each carried well filled sacks containing the coin of the realm, which they were desirous of placing on the Madera birds.”

At 10 p.m. the action began. The first two birds that entered the contest were “beauties,” both weighing approximately 5 1/2 pounds. When the referee ordered the birds dropped, Madera’s representative, a Black Pyle, was beset by bashfulness; he seemed a bit shy at first. Finally, the Madera bird strutted around the ring proudly and made a dive at the Merced Red, who managed to evade the thrust. The Black Pyle quickly struck again, this time knocking a few feathers out of the Red. After a round of ferocious fighting, the Madera bird drew first blood and went on to win the match. The Maderans were delirious!

The second event turned out to be the longest; it ran for 20 minutes. When the dust had finally settled, the Merced crowd was given a chance to crow, for their bird was the victor.

In round three, the two smallest birds were pitted against each other. This fight was deemed “the most spirited of the evening.’’ The Madera bird cut his opponent to the ground in seconds and began crowing proudly over his victory. The Merced bird, however, was not finished. While completely prostrated, it continued to peck at the Madera bird. Finally the coup de grace was applied, and the Madera crowd cheered once more.

Madera lost the fourth event, setting the stage for a crucial fifth round. It was to be the quickest. The excitement ran high through the stands. With six more contests to go, the momentum would be with the winner of the fifth fight.

The Merced handler came to the line with a Black Spanish, while Madera unveiled its “unknown.” A quizzical ripple ran through the Merced section. “What is it?” was the question most asked. The Madera handler bid his guests to “Never mind; just watch it.” The spectators didn’t have long to wait.

The Madera “Unknown’’ made one desperate jump at the Merced bird and knocked him a distance of five feet. The bird never got up; it had received a fatal wound in the head. A closer examination of the Madera bird, which had no tail, nor comb, and very few wing feathers, proved it to be a common scrub hen!

At that revelation, the Mercedites refused to proceed with the fight and left Madera in a huff. The Expositor reported that “The Merced sports all returned home with rumpled feathers, not unlike those worn by their defeated birds, while the Madera boys who had placed their money on the victorious cocks, walked with high heads, assumed a boastful attitude, and stated that they never were and never would be defeated.’’

Open cockfighting continued in Madera for some time. The late George Barnett remembered stories of “Sureshot,” one of his father’s prize birds. On one occasion, just after the turn of the century, Fred Barnett, George’s father, and his uncles, John, Walter, and Frank, were involved in a 15 cock main!”

After the Maderans lost the first five fights, it was discovered that the practice of “booting their roosters in the dark and then dropping them suddenly in a lighted ring had placed them at a disadvantage.” The Barnetts, realizing the mistake, began to put the spurs on their chickens under the lantern, giving them time to adjust to the light. The Madera birds went on to win the main and the Barnetts pocketed $500, a sizable sum in the early 1900s.

In time, a more refined and civilized Madera rejected the sport of cockfighting. Now there are laws, which attempt to assure that there will be no repetition of the fighting festivals of years gone by. In the meantime, in scores of barns throughout the Valley, clandestine meetings of Big Reds and Black Pyles continue to perpetuate the primitive atavism that prompts folks to flock to the scene of a good fight. Some traditions die hard.