Jesse Hart, the son of Eugene "Cyclone" Hart, shares with ESPN boxing analyst Mark Kriegel what it's like living up to his father's expectations in the ring and how the death of his brother has fueled him. (6:58)

It was August 1876, and the venue was a barge anchored in the Delaware River near Pennsville, New Jersey. Most of those aboard were gamblers who had gathered to watch and wager on an illegal bareknuckle bout between "Philadelphia" Jimmy Weeden and Billy Walker, another local pug.

Jessie Magdaleno vs. Isaac Dogboe Where: Liacouras Center at Temple University, Philadelphia

When: Saturday

TV: ESPN2, 7 p.m. ET, ESPN Deportes, Tape delay, 10 p.m. ET

Details of the contest are few, but there's no doubt that Walker died of injuries incurred during the fight. Weeden was arrested and imprisoned in Trenton, where he died a year later, primarily because his battle wounds were never properly treated.

In an O. Henry-esque twist of fate, the double-death barge fight led to the legalization of boxing in the City of Brotherly Love.

Heavyweight Bryant Jennings will continue his quest for another title fight when he meets Alexander Dimitrenko in Atlantic City. Al Bello/Bongarts/Getty Images

In an effort to rein in the outlaw sport and pacify public outrage over the demise of Walker, the Philadelphia City Council, with cooperation from the sheriff's office, establish rules under which boxing was allowed to take place within the city limits.

Although bareknuckle bouts had been popular in Philadelphia since colonial times, the Walker-Weeden tragedy was the catalyst that changed everything.

Although there were rules about the location and duration of the bouts, they were just minor inconveniences. The punch-drunk genie was out of the bottle. Boxing was legit in Philly.

Philadelphia fighters enshrined in the International Boxing Hall of Fame Fighter Division Year of championship "Philadelphia" Jack O'Brien Light heavyweight 1905 Henry Lewis Welterweight 1908-1911 Battling Levinski Light heavyweight 1916-1920 George Godfrey Heavyweight Contender 1920s and 1930s Lew Tendler Lightweight Contender 1920s Tommy Loughran Light heavyweight 1927-1930 Benny Bass Featherweight/Junior lightweight 1927-1929/1929-1931 Midget Wolgast Flyweight 1930-1935 Bob Montgomery Lightweight 1943, 1944-1947 Harold Johnson Light heavyweight 1962-1963 Sonny Liston Heavyweight 1962-1964 Joey Giardello Middleweight 1963-1965 Joe Frazier Heavyweight 1970-1973 Matthew Saad Muhammad Light heavyweight 1979-1981 Jeff Chandler Bantamweight 1980-1984

The sport took root and flourished, especially among immigrant groups from Europe. When the 20th century dawned, Philadelphia was already a leading fight center, and boxing was well on its way to becoming an integral part of the city's culture and identity.

There's not another city in the United States where a boxer's hometown carries a cachet so potent that it implies certain admirable qualities, regardless of his or her ring record.

There's a mystique about the name itself, two words that say so much.

No matter if it's a four-round novice fresh from the Golden Gloves or a world champion, broadcasters always mention that so-and-so is a Philadelphia fighter.

They natter about how tough and determined they are and how the other guy had better look out for the left hook. But that is just shorthand for a more complex story.

How did Philadelphia gain its reputation as a city of badass boxers in the first place? Did the fighters make the city or did the city make the fighters?

Bernard Hopkins, a Philadelphia fighter, defended the middleweight title a record 20 times. Tom Hogan/Hoganphotos/Golden Boy Promotions

The safe guess is the confluence of both, set and setting, coming together to create the unique and lasting milieu that hosts Top Rank on ESPN Saturday's card at the Liacouras Center.

In the boxing world, Philadelphia fighters are a subset unto themselves. Like their city and its current king, Philadelphia Eagles center Jason Kelce, they have attitude, even the ones who usually lose.

"I think it's the lifestyle," said Philadelphia-born publicist Michelle Rosado. "It's the way they come up and are developed that makes the Philly fighters the way they are. It's a blue-collar town, and a lot of the guys work at hard-labor jobs. They know about the grind and the grit. It creates a different mentality."

"Philadelphia has always been a tough city. There are lots of poor neighborhoods," said Hall of Fame promoter J Russell Peltz. "I think our boxers are influenced by Philly's history of always having tough fighters. They know what's expected of them."

All of that and more goes into the making of a Philadelphia fighter, but there is no one-size-fits-all. They don't all come out smokin' like Joe Frazier.

Former light heavyweight Tommy Loughran is considered to be the greatest Philadelphia fighter of all time. AP Photo

Tommy Loughran, who is considered by some to be the greatest Philadelphia fighter of all time, tallied only 14 knockouts in 126 pro fights. Let that soak in for a moment. This guy went rounds, 1,179 all told.

Even though he had a measly 11-percent knockout rate, in his prime, the "Philly Phantom" was almost impossible to hit cleanly and could jab his adversary into a state of utter frustration. Tommy didn't really move that fast but knew when and why he did what he did, and he did it well.

There is no end to the stylistic variation among Philly fighters. The best of them are usually one-offs.

Lightweight champ Bob "Bobcat" Montgomery fought like his nickname; light heavyweight champion Harold Johnson was a textbook stylist with a punch. Then there's Gypsy Joe Harris, a one-eyed improvisational genius, and Bernard Hopkins, whose discipline and boxing IQ took him places where nobody else has gone.

As counterintuitive as it might sound, you don't have to be born in Philly to be a Philadelphia fighter. If you're good enough, it doesn't matter where you're from. Some of the most celebrated members of the club were born elsewhere: Frazier, Montgomery and Wesley Mouzon were all from South Carolina. Bennie Briscoe was born in Augusta, Georgia.

They were part of the Great Migration of approximately 6 million African-Americans from the rural South to the urban Northeast, Midwest and West, which occurred between 1916 and 1970. The boxers among them swelled the ranks, and there was no looking back.

Sylvester Stallone's character in the movie Rocky, Rocky Balboa, was a Philadelphia fighter. Bastiaan Slabbers/NurPhoto via Getty Images

Philadelphia's golden eras are receding further and further into the past. The flame has flickered now and then, but boxing has survived because what would Philly do without it?

The Eagles, Sixers, Phillies and Flyers are the big dogs for sure. But the fighters are the city's heart and soul, closer to the truth than the rest.

There was a reason Sylvester Stallone chose Philly for the geographical center of the Rocky movies. It's a fight town, and everybody knows it. It's a given.

The small-venue scene has been busy in recent years, with regular cards at the 2300 Arena, Sugar House Casino and the Fillmore.

Successful big-budget shows were already just a memory by the time the Spectrum was demolished in 2010.

There were several ill-advised attempts to go upscale again, but they all ended badly. It didn't work when Mike Tyson blew out Buster Mathis Jr. in 1995. It didn't work when Bernard Hopkins was fed inept Frenchman Morrade Hakkar in 2003, and it sure didn't work when Danny Garcia flogged Samuel Vargas in 2016.

Philly fans aren't going to turn out en masse to watch mismatches, never have, never will, not even if it's "Iron Mike" butchering the sacrificial offering. They're too savvy for that.

Former two-division world titlist Danny Garcia owns his own boxing gym in Philadelphia. Corey Perrine/Getty Images

Why overpay to watch a marque name fight a no-hoper when for $50 you can see Tyrone Brunson come off the floor in the fourth round and stop Kermit Cintron in the fifth? That's the sort of stuff that sells in Philly.

Although the nominal main event Saturday is the Jessie Magdaleno-Isaac Dogboe junior featherweight title fight, it's the battle for the vacant Pennsylvania heavyweight title between Bryant Jennings and Joey Dawejko that will likely sell the most tickets.

It's the kind of match that has always been the key to the hearts of Philadelphia fans -- a showdown between two of their own, the original "Philly Special."

It's been that way down through the decades. It didn't matter if it was Benny Bass knocking out Harry Blitman in 1928, or the two savage Montgomery-Mouzon wars in 1946.

It was the same in the 1970s and '80s, when Briscoe and Eugene "Cyclone" Hart did their thing not once but twice, and bantamweight champion Jeff Chandler cut down homey Johnny Carter after a free-swinging start.

When the big fights moved down the road to the Atlantic City casinos, a SRO crowd at the legendary Blue Horizon was still virtually guaranteed when crosstown rivals clashed. Philly vs. Philly got to be such a hot ticket, hustlers were selling counterfeits on the corner the night Troy Fletcher beat Bryan "Boogaloo" Jones for the vacant Pennsylvania bantamweight title in 1985.

Then, around the turn of the millennium it became increasingly difficult to match two Philadelphia fighters, much to the dismay of Peltz, who has spent close to 50 years doing just that.

The legendary Blue Horizon was a big part of Philadelphia boxing for many years. Jonathan Newton/The Washington Post via Getty Images

"The main criticism of me in recent years, and I love it, is that I promote for the fans, not the fighters," said Peltz. "Young fighters ask me, 'Why should I fight for you, Russell? You're going to put me in tough, and if I get beat I won't be able to get on TV.'

"They are influenced by Floyd Mayweather making such a big deal about his "O". Everybody wants to be undefeated, and I understand their point of view. Television executives don't want the best fights. They want fighters with undefeated records."

Peltz has, however, figured out a way to partially combat the epidemic of house fighters vs. low hanging fruit.

"I've narrowed the circle of people I want to work with, people who understand the system. It's like a basketball coach, say, Phil Jackson. He had the triangle offense system and he needed his players to buy into it. My system is that you've got to fight [tough opponents], but if you lose I won't abandon you.

"Making a fight like Jennings-Dawejko makes me feel good. I told Jennings he was going to be involved in a terrific fight. Who wants to see him fight Derric Rossy or some other used-up heavyweight? Jennings-Dawejko is selling this card."

It also helps that Jesse Hart, son of Cyclone, is on the show, fighting Demond Nicholson. Jesse came up short in his super middleweight title shot against Gilberto Ramirez but earned a lot of respect rallying down the stretch after a rough go of it early on.

Immediately after the fight, even though his son had lost, the old left-hooker looked joyful. When Jesse reached the corner, his beaming father kept saying, "You fought him. You really fought him."

That was the important thing as far as Cyclone was concerned. His son did what he used to do back in the day, took it to the dude, on the inside Philly style.

Jesse didn't win, but he fought like a Philadelphia fighter down the stretch.

This is not necessarily to say that Jesse Hart, or the winner of Jennings-Dawejko, for that matter, is the future of Philadelphia boxing. It's just good to know the spirit lingers and the city still celebrates its unique breed of boxer.