Agree!bennie wrote:Duran would have killed him.kikibalt wrote:Bennie,bennie wrote:Age is a funny thing. The late, great Harry Mullan had no time for Sugar Ray Leonard. Leonard just didn't turn him on. I feel the same about Oscar De La Hoya.
The Golden Boy bores me.
I feel the same way as you about Oscar De La Hoyo, not that he bores me, but I got the feeling that something was not true about him, what? I don't know.
Classic American West Coast Boxing
To beat Duran you had to be a great 'mover'. De La Hoya isn't clever enough on his feet.kikibalt wrote:Agree!bennie wrote:Duran would have killed him.kikibalt wrote: Bennie,
I feel the same way as you about Oscar De La Hoyo, not that he bores me, but I got the feeling that something was not true about him, what? I don't know.
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
kikibalt wrote:Expug wrote:Hey Expug has a picture on Boxrec .
Im the guy with the gray hair.
http://www.boxrec.com/media/index.php/i ... iggins.jpg
PUG
Last edited by Rick Farris on 10 Mar 2010, 03:00, edited 1 time in total.
Rick Farris wrote:kikibalt wrote:Expug wrote:Hey Expug has a picture on Boxrec .
Im the guy with the gray hair.
http://www.boxrec.com/media/index.php/i ... iggins.jpg
Hey Pug . . . That's really cool!
Rick
Thanks Rick.
Ive enjoyed all your contributions tremendously !
There are many fighters in DLH weight class that I think would beat him,bennie wrote:To beat Duran you had to be a great 'mover'. De La Hoya isn't clever enough on his feet.kikibalt wrote:Agree!bennie wrote: Duran would have killed him.
I aways said that DLH was a good fighter, but not great at all.
That's the idea . . .kikibalt wrote:You would be able to write a book with all the stories that would be told in such a meet.raylawpc wrote:What I'd rather do is put Hap, Don Fraser and you in a room with a sixpack, BBQ and a tape recorder, and let you guys talk about California boxing while I'm recording your stories for posteritykikibalt wrote: Tom,
Tell us some lawyer stories.
Maybe I'll post some lawyer stories later.
[/quote]Tom,
Don Chargin too, has some stories to tell, I have spent time with him, one on one, and he has told me some wild stories.[/quote]
He's invited too. I'll bring some extra beer and BBQ.
That's the idea . . .raylawpc wrote:You would be able to write a book with all the stories that would be told in such a meet.kikibalt wrote:What I'd rather do is put Hap, Don Fraser and you in a room with a sixpack, BBQ and a tape recorder, and let you guys talk about California boxing while I'm recording your stories for posterityraylawpc wrote: Tom,
Tell us some lawyer stories.
Maybe I'll post some lawyer stories later.
[/quote]Tom,
Don Chargin too, has some stories to tell, I have spent time with him, one on one, and he has told me some wild stories.[/quote]
He's invited too. I'll bring some extra beer and BBQ.
[/quote]Chargin don't drink anymore, when he was young he used to have a drink or two, Fraser drinks red wine, and me? I'll drink what ever you put in front of me..
I found this article in todays L.A.Times, it about Ersi Arvizu, Ersi was the daughter of the late Art Arvizu, Art was the manager/trainer of Danny Valdez who fought Davey Moore for the FW title.
Thought you might enjoy reading it.
El Chicano's Ersi Arvizu finds her voice again
Ry Cooder coaxes an East L.A. songbird out of retirement.
By Agustin Gurza, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
Ersi Arvizu was on vacation in Hawaii a few years ago when she heard that some guy named Ry Cooder was looking for her. She got the news from colleagues who knew her from her long-gone glory days as lead singer of El Chicano, the 1970s East L.A. band famous for her version of the classic old bolero "Sabor a Mi."
No way, shot back Arvizu, who had long before moved to Arizona. Besides, she was "fit to be tied," she says, over a money dispute involving a previous El Chicano comeback concert. She was in no mood to get back in the business.
Her colleagues insisted that this was the chance of a lifetime. How many veteranos wouldn't want to work with the producer who had turned a bunch of aging, forgotten Cuban musicians into the international superstars called the Buena Vista Social Club? Maybe Cooder could do the same for old-school East L.A. artists with "Chavez Ravine," the project he was working on at the time based on the razing of Latino barrios on the Dodger Stadium site.
Cooder Shmooder. Arvizu wasn't budging.
"I don't know him and I don't care," she recalls responding. "I'm not leaving Hawaii to go over there and audition for some man I don't even know. Heck no."
Famous last words. Tuesday brings the release of Arvizu's "Friend for Life," the first solo album of her career and her first recording since leaving El Chicano more than 30 years ago. The title song was written for her newest best friend, Cooder, the multicultural connoisseur who had tracked her down after hearing her teenage voice on a 1960s single by the Sisters, a vocal trio featuring Arvizu and her hermanas (sisters), Rosella and Mary.
Cooder was struck by the natural, timeless quality of Arvizu's voice, transcending pop trends with its heartfelt delivery. It was the female voice he was seeking for "Chavez Ravine," which featured several male artists from the macho-dominated East L.A. music scene of the '60s and '70s. Ironically, Arvizu is the only one who has emerged so far with a solo project under Cooder, à la his Buena Vista spinoffs.
And why not? As Arvizu told me over lunch this week, "I am unique."
Where else, she asks, will you find a woman who grew up in East L.A., had a Top 10 hit in her teens, trained boxers with her father, went undefeated in four fights of her own, drove a truck for FedEx to make ends meet and attended college to become a "woman cop." Yes, and who still sings with tenderness and perfect pitch after all these years.
Musical memoir
The album is a musical memoir featuring the first songs written by Arvizu, who turns 60 in September. At first, she says, Cooder had asked her to write for "Chavez Ravine," but she was too young to remember the controversial history. Later, he urged her to write about what she knows best, her life. Her new bilingual songs, many penned with pianist Joey Navarro, range from deeply nostalgic boleros to gently up-tempo tunes with shades of R&B, salsa and the blues.
In "Window of Dreams," we see the little girl forced to peek through a hole at the boxers practicing a boys' sport. In "El Arbol" (The Tree), she's the mischievous girl who climbed a tree in her frontyard to escape vocal rehearsals with her mother. And in "En El Tambo," she recalls a prison performance with El Chicano, "pretty nervous being the only woman in a sea of men."
The latest chapter of her life is captured in that title track, written as a tribute to Cooder for having faith in a singer who was all but forgotten. In the liner notes, she thanks the producer "for believing in me and reigniting my love of music."
For this column, a publicist sent word that Cooder was unavailable for an interview. It may seem weird that he wouldn't make the time to talk with his hometown paper about a pet project featuring a hometown girl. But Cooder hasn't taken my calls since I knocked Buena Vista, which I found oddly bland in light of the amazing history and evolution of Cuban music, a context which was totally ignored to hype the project's nostalgic value.
East L.A. is an entirely different world. Here, Cooder doesn't have to nurture nostalgia. The East L.A. scene virtually feeds on it. It's a neighborhood where oldies never die, they just get passed on to the next generation. In a few weeks, faithful fans will flock to the Greek Theatre for what is becoming a ritual, a revival concert featuring veteran Chicano bands, including Tierra, Thee Midniters, Malo and El Chicano, performing May 25 and 26.
Arvizu will appear as a special guest with her old band. But it's not an entirely rosy reunion. Some hard feelings are being set aside for the show.
Recent resentments arose from confusion about who would work with Cooder on "Chavez Ravine." The way Arvizu tells it, the audition sounds like an episode of "I Love Lucy," with people angling to get in on the act by playing up to Cooder, who, like Ricky Ricardo, was clueless about the scheming behind the scenes. ("Pobrecito Ry," she says. "He was the only one kept in the blind.") When Cooder finally made clear he just wanted the singer and didn't need the band, Arvizu says, not everyone was happy.
"It's not my fault. Why are you yelling at me?" she recalls saying during an angry confrontation. "If he wanted my voice and not the band, what am I supposed to say? Am I going to tell the man no? Am I stupid?"
Bobby Espinosa, El Chicano's original keyboardist, acknowledges there was bad blood. "I was shocked that she didn't call," he says, to use more of her old band members on her new album. (Only El Chicano guitarist Mickey Lespron was included on two tracks.) As for Cooder, he says, there was "not even a thank you" for helping coax the singer back from that Hawaii vacation.
Espinosa shares one thing with Cooder: a deep admiration for Arvizu's talent.
"I never heard her go flat. I never heard her go sharp," he says. "Her intonation was almost perfect. I would never hear her warm up before a show and she could come on stage and belt out the tunes."
Old neighborhood
One afternoon this week, Arvizu returned to the East L.A. neighborhood where it all started. She visited the boxy little bungalow on Fisher Street, near the intersection of the 60 and 710 freeways, where she and her five siblings were raised. Her father's backyard boxing gym is no longer there, but the beautiful shade tree she used to climb still stands tall and sturdy in the frontyard.
It's a typical barrio street, with a touch of graffiti and a lingering gang problem. Dogs yelp as kids glide by on bikes and an ice cream truck slowly passes, playing "It's a Small World," that tune from Disneyland. But it feels strange for her to be back after many years. Both her parents have died, and everything now looks so small.
Her arrival brings out a couple of curious neighbors, including a tattooed man in a wheelchair who remembers her father, Arturo, as a local standout, "The Magnum P.I. of the barrio." He was not only good looking, he also fixed Harleys, trained boxers (including Oscar De La Hoya as a boy), played guitar and sang duets at parties with his wife, Rita, a farm worker's daughter and former beauty queen.
Arvizu pays tribute to her father in a moving song from the album, "Mi India" (My Indian Girl), his term of affection for her. But she doesn't gloss over his faults. "He was a very jealous man, oh my God," she recalls. He didn't want his wife to drive and even stopped her from writing songs, Arvizu recalls, because he was suspicious when she'd get out of bed at night to sit quietly in the kitchen and write lyrics in her tablet.
That memory inspired "Angel de Mil Voces" (Angel of a Thousand Voices), Arvizu's tribute to her mother. The CD also includes one of four surviving songs her mother wrote, "Sin Tu Querer" (Without Your Love), dedicated to her husband.
"It's sad because he held her back," says Arvizu, who never married. "And he regretted it after she passed away. But too late."
For the visit, Arvizu has brought along her sister and back-up singer, Rosella, to apply a touch of eye liner for a photo shoot.
"She doesn't like makeup," Rosella says.
"I'm not a pretty girl," Arvizu offers. "I'm not like those models. But of course, they don't have my voice."
[email protected]
Thought you might enjoy reading it.
El Chicano's Ersi Arvizu finds her voice again
Ry Cooder coaxes an East L.A. songbird out of retirement.
By Agustin Gurza, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
Ersi Arvizu was on vacation in Hawaii a few years ago when she heard that some guy named Ry Cooder was looking for her. She got the news from colleagues who knew her from her long-gone glory days as lead singer of El Chicano, the 1970s East L.A. band famous for her version of the classic old bolero "Sabor a Mi."
No way, shot back Arvizu, who had long before moved to Arizona. Besides, she was "fit to be tied," she says, over a money dispute involving a previous El Chicano comeback concert. She was in no mood to get back in the business.
Her colleagues insisted that this was the chance of a lifetime. How many veteranos wouldn't want to work with the producer who had turned a bunch of aging, forgotten Cuban musicians into the international superstars called the Buena Vista Social Club? Maybe Cooder could do the same for old-school East L.A. artists with "Chavez Ravine," the project he was working on at the time based on the razing of Latino barrios on the Dodger Stadium site.
Cooder Shmooder. Arvizu wasn't budging.
"I don't know him and I don't care," she recalls responding. "I'm not leaving Hawaii to go over there and audition for some man I don't even know. Heck no."
Famous last words. Tuesday brings the release of Arvizu's "Friend for Life," the first solo album of her career and her first recording since leaving El Chicano more than 30 years ago. The title song was written for her newest best friend, Cooder, the multicultural connoisseur who had tracked her down after hearing her teenage voice on a 1960s single by the Sisters, a vocal trio featuring Arvizu and her hermanas (sisters), Rosella and Mary.
Cooder was struck by the natural, timeless quality of Arvizu's voice, transcending pop trends with its heartfelt delivery. It was the female voice he was seeking for "Chavez Ravine," which featured several male artists from the macho-dominated East L.A. music scene of the '60s and '70s. Ironically, Arvizu is the only one who has emerged so far with a solo project under Cooder, à la his Buena Vista spinoffs.
And why not? As Arvizu told me over lunch this week, "I am unique."
Where else, she asks, will you find a woman who grew up in East L.A., had a Top 10 hit in her teens, trained boxers with her father, went undefeated in four fights of her own, drove a truck for FedEx to make ends meet and attended college to become a "woman cop." Yes, and who still sings with tenderness and perfect pitch after all these years.
Musical memoir
The album is a musical memoir featuring the first songs written by Arvizu, who turns 60 in September. At first, she says, Cooder had asked her to write for "Chavez Ravine," but she was too young to remember the controversial history. Later, he urged her to write about what she knows best, her life. Her new bilingual songs, many penned with pianist Joey Navarro, range from deeply nostalgic boleros to gently up-tempo tunes with shades of R&B, salsa and the blues.
In "Window of Dreams," we see the little girl forced to peek through a hole at the boxers practicing a boys' sport. In "El Arbol" (The Tree), she's the mischievous girl who climbed a tree in her frontyard to escape vocal rehearsals with her mother. And in "En El Tambo," she recalls a prison performance with El Chicano, "pretty nervous being the only woman in a sea of men."
The latest chapter of her life is captured in that title track, written as a tribute to Cooder for having faith in a singer who was all but forgotten. In the liner notes, she thanks the producer "for believing in me and reigniting my love of music."
For this column, a publicist sent word that Cooder was unavailable for an interview. It may seem weird that he wouldn't make the time to talk with his hometown paper about a pet project featuring a hometown girl. But Cooder hasn't taken my calls since I knocked Buena Vista, which I found oddly bland in light of the amazing history and evolution of Cuban music, a context which was totally ignored to hype the project's nostalgic value.
East L.A. is an entirely different world. Here, Cooder doesn't have to nurture nostalgia. The East L.A. scene virtually feeds on it. It's a neighborhood where oldies never die, they just get passed on to the next generation. In a few weeks, faithful fans will flock to the Greek Theatre for what is becoming a ritual, a revival concert featuring veteran Chicano bands, including Tierra, Thee Midniters, Malo and El Chicano, performing May 25 and 26.
Arvizu will appear as a special guest with her old band. But it's not an entirely rosy reunion. Some hard feelings are being set aside for the show.
Recent resentments arose from confusion about who would work with Cooder on "Chavez Ravine." The way Arvizu tells it, the audition sounds like an episode of "I Love Lucy," with people angling to get in on the act by playing up to Cooder, who, like Ricky Ricardo, was clueless about the scheming behind the scenes. ("Pobrecito Ry," she says. "He was the only one kept in the blind.") When Cooder finally made clear he just wanted the singer and didn't need the band, Arvizu says, not everyone was happy.
"It's not my fault. Why are you yelling at me?" she recalls saying during an angry confrontation. "If he wanted my voice and not the band, what am I supposed to say? Am I going to tell the man no? Am I stupid?"
Bobby Espinosa, El Chicano's original keyboardist, acknowledges there was bad blood. "I was shocked that she didn't call," he says, to use more of her old band members on her new album. (Only El Chicano guitarist Mickey Lespron was included on two tracks.) As for Cooder, he says, there was "not even a thank you" for helping coax the singer back from that Hawaii vacation.
Espinosa shares one thing with Cooder: a deep admiration for Arvizu's talent.
"I never heard her go flat. I never heard her go sharp," he says. "Her intonation was almost perfect. I would never hear her warm up before a show and she could come on stage and belt out the tunes."
Old neighborhood
One afternoon this week, Arvizu returned to the East L.A. neighborhood where it all started. She visited the boxy little bungalow on Fisher Street, near the intersection of the 60 and 710 freeways, where she and her five siblings were raised. Her father's backyard boxing gym is no longer there, but the beautiful shade tree she used to climb still stands tall and sturdy in the frontyard.
It's a typical barrio street, with a touch of graffiti and a lingering gang problem. Dogs yelp as kids glide by on bikes and an ice cream truck slowly passes, playing "It's a Small World," that tune from Disneyland. But it feels strange for her to be back after many years. Both her parents have died, and everything now looks so small.
Her arrival brings out a couple of curious neighbors, including a tattooed man in a wheelchair who remembers her father, Arturo, as a local standout, "The Magnum P.I. of the barrio." He was not only good looking, he also fixed Harleys, trained boxers (including Oscar De La Hoya as a boy), played guitar and sang duets at parties with his wife, Rita, a farm worker's daughter and former beauty queen.
Arvizu pays tribute to her father in a moving song from the album, "Mi India" (My Indian Girl), his term of affection for her. But she doesn't gloss over his faults. "He was a very jealous man, oh my God," she recalls. He didn't want his wife to drive and even stopped her from writing songs, Arvizu recalls, because he was suspicious when she'd get out of bed at night to sit quietly in the kitchen and write lyrics in her tablet.
That memory inspired "Angel de Mil Voces" (Angel of a Thousand Voices), Arvizu's tribute to her mother. The CD also includes one of four surviving songs her mother wrote, "Sin Tu Querer" (Without Your Love), dedicated to her husband.
"It's sad because he held her back," says Arvizu, who never married. "And he regretted it after she passed away. But too late."
For the visit, Arvizu has brought along her sister and back-up singer, Rosella, to apply a touch of eye liner for a photo shoot.
"She doesn't like makeup," Rosella says.
"I'm not a pretty girl," Arvizu offers. "I'm not like those models. But of course, they don't have my voice."
[email protected]
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
I fought the heat and the traffic and the line at the border to drop by "Terrible" Morales's Gym today in Tijuana. It had been a while,and I'd heard the gym was converted inti some kind of spa.
Well here's the point. A typical Mexican cultural response. Some guy is leaning on the wall outside ,next to the steps going up to the gym.
"Is there still a boxing gym upstairs(Hay un gimnasio de box arriba todavia)?,I ask the guy who looks like he's part of the wall.
"Yo no se"(I don't know)
I know the dick head knows,but he ain't going to tell me. Then he ducks around the corner into the little "abarrotes"(store)that the Morales family owns and strikes up a conversation with the guy behind the counter like he's his long lost cousin. I ask the guy behind the counter if there still is a boxing gym upstairs and he says there is. I look at Mr. Hospitality and he keeps up the chatter with the guy behind the counter like,"F--K You Gringo". Happy as a clam and laughing at the top of his lungs at what he's conversing about,but I know that's his way of giving me the "finger."
Here's another example: God forbid if you're looking for an address. One time me and the wife are invited to a party in TJ in Colonia Morelos. The house is on "Juan Sarabia" Street. Well in Tj they ain't gonna spend money on sign posts,so they nail the street sign on the wall of the corner house. Let me tell ya',when it gets dark,it's hard to see nothin' in those colonias,let alone the street signs. Me and the wife know approximately where the house is,but we still can't find it. We must have asked a dozen people walking on the street where "Juan Sarabia"Street was.
"Yo no se." The usual response. I'm looking at my wife and tell her they're jerking us around. We're helpless. "Juan Sarabia" Street is on their "Pay No Mind List", and they act indifferent. But I do know enough not to show anyone that I'm frustrated. If they sense frustration,they'd give me directions to Nicaragua.
Just then a car pulls along side us. It's someone we know that's going to the party.
"Que pasa?"
"I'm looking for "Juan Sarabia" Street",I answer.
"Hey man,you're driving on it", the guy laughs.
It turns out the party was around the corner up a couple of blocks. Good thing it was close by. I didn't have enough gas to get me to Nicaragua.
Well here's the point. A typical Mexican cultural response. Some guy is leaning on the wall outside ,next to the steps going up to the gym.
"Is there still a boxing gym upstairs(Hay un gimnasio de box arriba todavia)?,I ask the guy who looks like he's part of the wall.
"Yo no se"(I don't know)
I know the dick head knows,but he ain't going to tell me. Then he ducks around the corner into the little "abarrotes"(store)that the Morales family owns and strikes up a conversation with the guy behind the counter like he's his long lost cousin. I ask the guy behind the counter if there still is a boxing gym upstairs and he says there is. I look at Mr. Hospitality and he keeps up the chatter with the guy behind the counter like,"F--K You Gringo". Happy as a clam and laughing at the top of his lungs at what he's conversing about,but I know that's his way of giving me the "finger."
Here's another example: God forbid if you're looking for an address. One time me and the wife are invited to a party in TJ in Colonia Morelos. The house is on "Juan Sarabia" Street. Well in Tj they ain't gonna spend money on sign posts,so they nail the street sign on the wall of the corner house. Let me tell ya',when it gets dark,it's hard to see nothin' in those colonias,let alone the street signs. Me and the wife know approximately where the house is,but we still can't find it. We must have asked a dozen people walking on the street where "Juan Sarabia"Street was.
"Yo no se." The usual response. I'm looking at my wife and tell her they're jerking us around. We're helpless. "Juan Sarabia" Street is on their "Pay No Mind List", and they act indifferent. But I do know enough not to show anyone that I'm frustrated. If they sense frustration,they'd give me directions to Nicaragua.
Just then a car pulls along side us. It's someone we know that's going to the party.
"Que pasa?"
"I'm looking for "Juan Sarabia" Street",I answer.
"Hey man,you're driving on it", the guy laughs.
It turns out the party was around the corner up a couple of blocks. Good thing it was close by. I didn't have enough gas to get me to Nicaragua.
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
\yancey wrote:I have so enjoyed this thread. Many of these names, such as Aileen Eaton and Don Fraser and the Olympic Auditorium , I remember reading about
in the Boxing magazines when I was a very avid fan in the '60s and '70s.
I remember well those two Patterson-Quarry fights from that era.
Tell me, is the great West Coast boxing manager/trainer, Johnny Flores, former manager for Quarry, still around and active?
Yancey, Johnny Flores was my manager. I regret to say that Johnny died in a strange accident that took place in the building that housed his city funded gym in Lincoln Heights, in 1994. The old Lincoln Heights jail had been closed for years, and Flores had the city fund a youth athletic facility in an area plagued with gangs. The idea was to give kids an alternative to gang involvment, etc. The gym opened in the early 1970's, and is still open today, thanks to Johnny's inititiative. Sadly, the building had a lot of issue regarding maintenance, etc.
Flores didn't come home from the gym for dinner one night. Johnny ALWAYS made it home on time. He couldn't be reached, and his son, John Jr. would find his father's body at the bottom of the gym's elevator shaft. The elevator had a history of trouble, and that's all that can be said. I'll send Frank a clip from the L.A. Times I have about Flores strange death, at age 78.
Johnny Flores is a California boxing legend, whose name wsas respected world wide. Without question, one of the most unique individuals I'll ever meet, very special. Frank wsas close with Johnny for decades, and has shared a lot of history with the man known in Los Angeles "Mr. Golden Gloves".
-Rick Farris
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
Frankkikibalt wrote:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bQXpJbeCZNc
Earl Bostic, on of my fav horn player
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sebbktK31zc
Earl Bostic
Earl Bostic was a good one. Red Prysock and Willis Jackson could play a good blues or "honk" with the best of them. Bands today don't use any horns. That's why those oldie "Low Rider" groups are still better than what's going on with hip hop and heavy metal. How many of those "oldies" had a sax in the band? The tenor sax is a very "romantic" instrument. It's easier to get a girl in the sack if the music you're listening to has a couple of horns in the band.
diego,dagosd2000 wrote:Frankkikibalt wrote:
I always thought Dick Young was a good referee. Saw him refereee Napoles/Backus II at the Forum. A lot of confusion at the end,but I thought Young did a good job sorting things out.
Dick Young was a good referee, no doubt about that, he had some fancy footwork in the ring, btw, I don't know if you notice that the M.C. at the father/son luncheon was Dick Young's son.
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
kikibalt wrote:diego,dagosd2000 wrote:Frankkikibalt wrote:
I always thought Dick Young was a good referee. Saw him refereee Napoles/Backus II at the Forum. A lot of confusion at the end,but I thought Young did a good job sorting things out.
Dick Young was a good referee, no doubt about that, he had some fancy footwork in the ring, btw, I don't know if you notice that the M.C. at the father/son luncheon was Dick Young's son.
I sure did Pal. His wife won the painting of Art Aragon. He thanked me when I was leaving and said he was going to hang it behind his desk in his office. Another man's man that's a dying breed of cat in today's society.
