Decades before Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier in Major League Baseball, an African-American was the undisputed champion of a professional sport. Jack Johnson held the heavyweight boxing title from 1908 until 1914. Rarely, if ever, has an individual been so dominant or so reviled in sport.

A century ago in Pittsburgh B.S. (Before Steelers), boxing was the king of sports. Even with Honus Wagner in the starting lineup, the Pirates took a back seat to boxing.

Much has been written on the subject of Jack Johnson -- even Jack Johnson wrote about Jack Johnson in a 1929 autobiography, "In the Ring and Out."

Less known is Jack's many ties to Pittsburgh, vast bastion of pugilism past, the home of Harry Greb, Fritzie Zivic and Billy Conn to name a few.

Born John Arthur Johnson in 1878, to former slaves in Galveston, Texas, Jack was still a teen when he first ventured to Pittsburgh. He recalled fighting a towering white man in a Pittsburgh stockyard for a hatful of money. As new as he was to the sport, Jack would write, the fight raised his courage high.

Jack also wrote of being flat broke in Denver and making his way back to Pittsburgh where he found alleviation of his despair, where he has friends to lift him from his misery, friends who were liberal with their loans of money.

A longtime friend of Jack's was Frank Sutton. Frank was proprietor of the Hotel Sutton which stood at 518-520 Wylie Ave., a spot now covered by the soon-to-be-demolished Mellon Arena (née Civic).

It was at the Hotel Sutton that Jack married Etta Duryea, his first white wife (his first three wives were black). Their marriage proved disastrous for both. Their story makes for a vivid chapter in the history of race relations in America.

Frank Sutton also boxed a bit, well enough to serve as a sparring partner and trainer for Jack. Frank was part of Jack's entourage. As with Etta, Frank traveled to Reno, Nev., with Jack when he prepared to defend his title against former heavyweight champ Jim Jeffries in 1910, billed as the "Fight of the Century."

Frank purchased all of Jack's food while in Reno. He superintended its cooking with a watchful eye. Frank subjected everything to close scrutiny when it came to Jack.

Jack wrote that Frank "never slackened in his duty" toward him. He never lacked in his vigilance. Above all, Frank was Jack's friend.

The Depression brought hard times for many a Pittsburgher. Frank closed his hotel and lounge in the early 1930s. He went to work for Gus Greenlee, numbers man, banker, Negro League Baseball Team owner.

On the Fourth of July, Jack knocked Jim Jeffries out in the 15th round. Thousands had prepaid to watch the film of the fight, speedily delivered by an eastbound train. The Schenley Park Amphitheater was sold out. Fearing race riots, the federal government banned the film from being shown.

Had it not been for Pittsburgh's Frank Sutton, the Fight of the Century could have had a much different outcome, if it occurred at all.

Joe Choynski hung up his gloves in 1904 after a long boxing career and became boxing and athletic instructor for the Pittsburgh Athletic Club, a position he held for 10 years.

Born shortly after the Civil War, Choynski never held the boxing title, but he had been a serious contender. Choynski had fought John L. Sullivan. He had fought Gentleman Jim Corbett.

In early 1901, when few white boxers would agree to fight a black man in the ring, Choynski traveled to Galveston to fight Jack Johnson. Choynski knocked Jack out in the third round. It was the first time that Jack had been kayoed. It would be nearly 15 years and countless fights until Jack would be knocked out again. And then it would take 26 rounds.

Promptly after knocking Jack out, both boxers were arrested for violating Texas Anti-Boxing Laws. Held without bond, they spent the next three weeks behind bars. Boxing.

The older Choynski tutored Jack in footwork and block punching; two areas of the game in which Jack would excel. Although he never had a good thing to say about Jack in public, Choynski had a fondness for Jack.

In a 1909 interview with Jim Jab, who wrote the column "Fistic Foibles" for The Pittsburgh Press, Choynski was quoted that he didn't even like to hear Johnson's name. He failed to mention he had helped in Jack's development as a boxer.

Jim Jab, like most sports writers, hated everything about Jack. Jab's articles were often full of racial slurs.

In 1908, Jack had won the World Heavyweight Boxing title in Sydney, Australia. He pummeled Tommy Burns. He would have won the belt sooner had Burns agreed to a fight.

Jack hounded Burns in the newspapers. Jack followed Burns to Europe and then Australia before Burns would finally agree to fight. Jack so bludgeoned Burns that police stepped into the ring to stop the bout.

One ringside spectators was the author-adventurer Jack London. Horrified by the sight of a white man so thoroughly beaten, London wrote an open letter to Jim Jeffries -- and so was born "The Great White Hope."

The victorious Johnson returned to North America in early 1909. Jack fought Victor McLaglen. Victor quickly gave up boxing and became an actor, appearing in nearly as many John Wayne movies as John Wayne did.

In April, Jack fought in the sold-out Duquesne Gardens against Pittsburgh heavyweight Frank Moran. Both local and national sport pundits wrote that Frank Moran was just the man to wipe the smile from Jack's face. Frank Moran made it through four rounds.

On June 30 of that year, Jack returned to Duquesne Gardens along Oakland's Fifth Avenue. Again the garden was packed to the rafters. This time Jack would defend his title against New Castle's Tony Ross, "Two Ton Tony." Tony lasted six rounds.

Earlier in the day, some 30,000 sports fans gathered a couple blocks away for the absolute first Pirates baseball game played at Forbes Field. U.S. Marshall Stephen Stone hung a sign in his office: "All jurors asking to be excused for the funeral of their grandmother, please make application one hour before game starts." Pittsburgh invited President Taft; he couldn't make it.

The game was too much of a sporting event for Jack, Choynski or any sporting man not to attend. Four decades would pass before a black athlete would play for the Pirates at Forbes Field. Jack would have been the first black athlete to watch the Pirates play at Forbes Field.

Etta Duryea was married to Clarence Duryea, a wealthy New Yorker involved with horse racing. Within weeks of meeting at the racetrack, Jack and Etta were riding a mattress at Frank Sutton's hotel in Pittsburgh.

Although Jack would always claim to have married Etta in Pittsburgh in January 1909, that was a lie. I found a copy of their marriage license at the City-County Building. The nuptials took place on Jan. 18, 1911 -- 99 years ago tomorrow. Where the marriage license asked for occupation, Jack wrote, "Teacher of Physical Culture," with boldness and flair, much like he lived his life. Jack autographed as much as signed the marriage license.

In 1912, Jack would lie through his gold teeth that he'd married Etta in 1912. By then, he was facing a long prison term for violating the "White Slave Traffic Act" -- taking a white woman across state lines for immoral purposes.

The White Slave Traffic Act (also known as the Mann Act) became law in June 1910, not long after Frank, Etta, Jack and entourage left Pittsburgh for Reno. With the possible exception of Terry Shiavo, the comatose Florida woman whose feeding tube was removed in 2005, such congressional specificity toward one citizen had rarely been displayed. The White Slave Traffic Act was written for Jack Johnson.

In his columns, Jim Jab spouted every racial slur imaginable. The sport would suffer, Jab wrote, as long as Johnson retained the belt.

Jack Johnson's rise to absolute supremacy in the world of sport coincided with and contributed much to a very ugly time in American history. Lynching occurred at a horrific frequency.

Still, Jack and Etta lived large. Like the rest of the country, they too awaited the arrival of a "Great White Hope." Legitimate contenders were scarce to nonexistent. Jack put together a vaudeville act and toured before opening his own lavishly furnished, integrated nightclub in Chicago. The Café de Champion served absinthe; Jack occasionally conducted the house jazz band.

Frank took some time from the Hotel Sutton to help Jack with his new nightclub. When the time came for Frank to return to Pittsburgh, Jack drove him to the train station. While Jack was seeing Frank off, Etta put a pistol to her head in a room above the Café de Champion. Etta killed herself.

Main Street press was livid. Even though dozens, if not hundreds, of people had seen Jack and Frank at the train station at the time Etta shot herself, many still felt Jack should be charged with murder.

Even C.W. Posey, editor at The Pittsburgh Courier, who had constantly reminded readers that Jack had won the title fair and square, had reached his limit. He wrote that he had enough Jack Johnson. Jack had become a failure as a representative of the race.

After Etta died, Jack was charged with violating the White Slave Traffic Act. Sportswoman Lucille Cameron had been an object of Jack's desire before Etta. Feeling betrayed, she agreed to testify about her sexual relations with Jack. But Jack, in a fine defensive move, married the prosecution star witness and victim. Lucille Cameron became Jack Johnson's second white wife. As the new Mrs. Jack Johnson, Lucille could not be compelled to testify against her husband.

Undeterred, federal agents traveled to Washington and found Belle Schreiber. Belle was a sometimes Pittsburgh prostitute and frequent guest of Jack's at the Hotel Sutton. She was more than willing to describe in graphic detail her sexual encounters with Jack, in various states. Jack didn't deny Belle's story but countered that there was no Mann Act at the time.

Belle's testimony was enough to convict Jack. While out on bond and appealing for a new trial, Jack fled back to Europe. No easy feat. Jack was arguably the most recognizable face in the United States. It took the help of Foster's Giants, a black Chicago baseball team that sneaked Jack onto a Canada-bound train.

In June 1914, Frank Moran traveled from Pittsburgh to Paris for a 20-round rematch. Again, Jack soundly thumped him. Finally, the following April, more than 14 years after being kayoed by Joe Choynski, six years after winning the belt and many defenses of the title, Jack was knocked out again, knocked out by a younger, larger Jess Willard. Neither John L. Sullivan nor Jack London lived to see the day.

In 1920, broke and homesick, Jack surrendered to U.S. marshals along the Mexican border. The marshal accompanied Jack to Leavenworth Penitentiary in Kansas, where Jack spent much of his sentence boxing.

After prison, Jack toured the country in a variety of boxing exhibitions and theatrical performances. He was still a great draw.

In 1924, the year Lucille filed for divorce, The Pittsburgh Press reported with glee that Jack had forgotten his lines in a local performance. As a young man, Jack had learned to speak quite eloquently, hinting at a West Indies-type accent. He could be a captivating public speaker, speaking at times in prose.

In 1925 Jack married his third white wife -- Irene Pineau. They remained happily together for the rest of Jack's life.

Jack's last visit, his last stop in Pittsburgh, was a posthumous, quiet affair in June 1946. Nothing like the grand entrances with hundreds of people clinging to his touring car. No headlines like "Great Reception for the Black Hero."

The Pittsburgh Courier published a photograph of Jack's casket being transferred by six railroad workers at the Pennsylvania Station to a Chicago-bound train.

Jack died from driving way too fast, crashing his Lincoln Zephyr into a utility pole in North Carolina. He had been on his way to Madison Square Garden to be ringside for the rematch between Joe Louis and Billy Conn, the Pittsburgh kid.

Jack's autobiography ends with these lines: "As I look back upon the life I have lived and compare it to the lives of my contemporaries, I feel that mine has been a full life and above all a human life. Who would dare to fight with that?"

In early 2005, a bipartisan pair of senators -- the late Sen. Edward Kennedy, along with Republican Sen. Orrin Hatch of Utah -- asked President George W. Bush to pardon Jack Johnson for violating the White Slave Traffic Act. That idea went nowhere.

More recently, two Republicans -- Arizona Sen. John McCain and New York Rep. Peter King -- have asked President Barack Obama to erase the act of racism and pardon Jack Johnson (an idea endorsed by the Post-Gazette's editorial board late last year).

There's no denying the government had robbed Jack of his income and his ability to live his life as he saw fit. It wiped the smile from Jack Johnson's face. Still, having studied Jack, I think a pardon would be another punch below the belt. In essence, the government of 2010 would pardon Jack, forgive Jack, for what the government of 1910 had done to him.

Jack felt he had committed no heinous crime and that his color, prejudices and jealousies had caused him to be persecuted and prosecuted.

He went to his grave, via Pittsburgh, believing there was nothing to pardon him for.

Cartoonist Rob Rogers does "Rob's Rough," an early look at his work and his creative process, exclusively at PG+, a members-only web site of the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. Our introduction to PG+ gives you all the details.