Classic American West Coast Boxing

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SOLID GOLD CLASSICS: THE MEMORABLE TRILOGY BETWEEN VICENTE SALDIVAR AND HOWARD WINSTONE
By Mike Casey

MARKS OF BATTLE: Mexico's Vicente Saldivar was a fantastic world featherweight champion who retired undefeated in 1967 and then came back in 1970 to rule again when he outpointed the dangerous Spanish-based Cuban, Jose Legra. Vicente's most intriguing battles, however, were his great trilogy with the brilliantly clever Welshman, Howard Winstone. The two men were made for each other as they traded skill and courage over a combined total of 42 rounds. Vicente won all three fights, but each had a fascinating story....

Who can beat Vicente Saldivar? That was the question being posed at the outset of 1967 after the tireless, barrel-chested Mexican ace had swept away the challenge of Japan’s leading challenger, Mitsunori Seki.

It was a very pertinent question to which few could furnish a valid reply. Saldivar was picking off his featherweight challengers with such class and relish that the field of possible successors was shrinking to the point of threatening to disappear.

He was relentless, this man Saldivar. He was smart, deceptively skilful, pounded the body mercilessly and set a formidable pace. He was born to fight and ultimately drank himself to death when he could fight no more.

Saldivar overpowered boxers and out-fought fighters. He was the first truly great featherweight since the golden days of Sandy Saddler and Willie Pep.

How I admired this glorious fighting man when I was a boy. For it was Saldivar who set the exceptional benchmark for the Mexican fighters of the future. Following hot on the heels of former bantamweight champion, Jose ‘Joe’ Becerra, Vicente was better and more durable than his predecessor and paved the way for such future legends as Ruben Olivares, Julio Cesar Chavez, Erik Morales and Marco Antonio Barrera.

“This is what I did,” Saldivar might well have said to his successors. “Now see if you can beat it.”

Vicente, alas, was also responsible for severely testing my allegiance. For there was another brilliant boxer in his world, a sublime and gifted matador who came to test the bull in a magnificent trilogy of fights. I speak of that wonderful wizard from Merthyr Tydfil, Wales: Howard Winstone.

What a beautifully gifted boxer Winstone was. He possessed the natural skills that legions of men can’t acquire in a lifetime of trying. On his best nights, his every move was so wonderfully fluid and perfect that even his opponents couldn’t help but marvel at his talent.

I believe it was Jimmy Anderson, the former British junior-lightweight champion, who remarked that his punches had repeatedly missed Winstone by fractions of inches due to Howard’s innate ability to deftly move his head at the right moment.

Watching the Welshman at his best was akin to seeing a top class Brazilian soccer ace threading a ball through a sea of befuddled players. Great soccer players and footballers don’t run, they glide. Great boxers don’t consciously plan their moves, they simply let them happen. Every punch, every tactical manoeuvre, comes across to the observer as a completely natural reaction. Howard Winstone was such a boxer.

His left jab alone was a thing of beauty, a rapier-like weapon that bruised and bewildered a succession of opponents. Combined with his many other skills, that rare jab helped to make Howard unbeatable in Britain and Europe from 1961 to 1967.

He became the idol of his native Welshmen, one of the few to bear the honour of being compared to his legendary compatriot, Peerless Jim Driscoll, whose brilliance had dazzled such titans of the game as Abe Attell and Owen Moran some 50 years before.

The one ingredient missing in Winstone’s otherwise flawless make-up was a knockout punch. Perhaps that was God’s way of giving his opponents a fair chance. It was often said that if Winstone had been able to marry his skills to true punching power, he would have been virtually invincible, perhaps one of the greatest featherweights.

Yet there was another obstacle that prevented him from attaining such heights, in the form of an omnipresent whirlwind of a man who persistently surfaced to frustrate him. That man was Saldivar.

It was cruel luck on Winstone’s part that by the time he had established himself as an outstanding contender for the world crown, Saldivar was the champion. For Vicente was Howard’s nemesis.

Clashed

The two fighters clashed three times over a two-year period, and had their bouts been ten-rounders, Howard would have won them all. On each occasion he had the beating of Saldivar in the early going, only to be overhauled in the later stages. To this day, traditionalists still regard the 15-round distance as being the true test of world championship quality, and Saldivar seemed to relish that crucial trio of closing rounds that mortal men of his era dreaded.

The tough Mexican was a throwback to Henry Armstrong, a precursor of Roberto Duran. Blessed like Armstrong with a slow heartbeat, Saldivar was a tireless puncher who seemed to grow stronger as the rounds wore on. He defended his title against Winstone at Earl’s Court, at Ninian Park and at Mexico City, and all three fights followed the same pattern where strength and superior punching power eventually prevailed over skill.

Those fortunate enough to have witnessed the three epic battles will have their own ideas as to which was the best. For my money, the second Saldivar-Winstone fight at Ninian Park on June 15, 1967, was the most thrilling.

It was the first world championship fight to be staged in Wales for more than 20 years and marked the resumption of a rivalry that had first exploded in glorious fashion nearly two years before at Earl’s Court in London. Then the two mighty little men had waged war for 15 fierce rounds, with Saldivar carving out a narrow points win.

I can remember listening to the radio commentary of that first terrific fight and feeling a growing sense of elation as Winstone appeared to be on the way to victory. Then came the decision and the disappointment that one feels when a gamecock has failed by an eyelash.

By the time Howard had steered his way back into contention, he had added six impressive victories to his record, including three European title defences. During this phase of his glittering career, only Saldivar was a superior featherweight and only then by the narrowest margin.

In more than 60 fights, Winstone had lost to only two other men and even those blots on his record looked curiously unreal: a crushing second round defeat to American puncher Leroy Jefferey and a points loss to the world ranked Don Johnson.

To this day, the many men who struggled vainly to lay a glove on Winstone must marvel at Jeffery’s achievement. The close and controversial defeat to Johnson, whom Howard subsequently twice defeated, is easier to comprehend since the Californian was an able and shrewd ring mechanic. At the time, however, it was hard to believe that someone had actually outpointed the Welsh boxing master!

From the time of embarking on his professional career in 1959, Winstone had exuded that special quality that separates great fighters from the rest. In just two years he sailed to 23 successive victories, and when he mesmerised Terry Spinks into a tenth round defeat to win the British featherweight title in 1961, Howard began his rapid ascent into world class.

He relieved Italy’s Alberto Serti of the European crown and reigned supreme in that capacity for more than four years, turning back seven challengers before eventually relinquishing the title.

Winstone dazzled the cream of domestic and international competition during his peak years as a world title contender, defeating such class men as Rafiu King, Yves Desmarets, Lalo Guerrero, Jose Legra and Richard Sue.

Instalments

Some 21 months elapsed between the first and second instalments of the Saldivar-Winstone saga, but for Howard the wait was worthwhile. For the venue of Ninian Park presented him with a wonderful chance of revenge in the land of his fathers. But even with home advantage, his task was daunting.

During the interim period, Saldivar had added to his already glowing reputation, winning the respect of the critics as an outstanding world champion. At first glance, his record looked lean and almost insignificant alongside Winstone’s, until one measured the rate of Vicente’s progress and the quality of the opponents he had conquered. Forty years ago, it was still fairly uncommon for young fighters of limited experience to win world titles. And we are talking about undisputed world titles here!

The boxing world stood up and took good notice of Saldivar when, at the tender age of 21, he battered the featherweight championship from the talented Sugar Ramos.

The young Mexican slugger was having only his 24th professional fight on that night of September 26, 1964, yet he fought with tremendous authority as he wore down and finally stopped Ramos in the eleventh round with a punishing body attack.

Saldivar at once showed himself to be a highly accomplished champion and a typically tough and menacing product of the Mexican fight school. Powerful, rugged and a damaging puncher, he pressured his opponents with a constant attack and his great stamina made him a dangerous man from the first bell to the last.

His early record was studded with a succession of quick victories. He stopped the dangerous Dwight Hawkins in five rounds, Eloy Sanchez in one and needed less than two rounds to wrest the Mexican featherweight title from Juan Ramirez.

In later fights, Vicente proved he was no less effective over long distances. Indeed, he relished the marathon duel. Prior to lifting the world title from Ramos, Saldivar outscored Lalo Guerrero and future lightweight champion Ismael Laguna in hard-fought contests. In his first defence of the world championship, Vicente came through a vicious war with the tough Raul Rojas to post a stoppage victory in the fifteenth and final round.

A miniature powerhouse of a man with the upper body of a welterweight, Saldivar imposed his presence on opponents from the outset, daring them to challenge his authority as he bulled and punched his way forward. Like any great champion, he had his share of worrying moments during his reign, but his strength and his great will always saw him through. Saldivar refused to be denied in any circumstances, whether being tormented by the ringcraft of Winstone or forced to the limit by that fiery Japanese warrior, Mitsunori Seki.

It was Seki who gave Vicente his most torrid fight, with a performance that surpassed even Winstone’s spirited Earl’s Court challenge. Fighting before Saldivar’s home crowd in Mexico City, Seki matched Vicente punch for punch through 15 hard rounds before losing a unanimous but desperately close decision. It was a verdict that many neutral ringside observers disputed.

Saldivar knew he had a point to prove to his critics, and in a return match just four months later he removed any doubts about his supremacy over Seki by stopping the brave challenger in seven rounds. In doing so, Vicente gave one of his top performances, an exhibition of destructive punching that re-established him as the undisputed leader of his division and left him with a near perfect record.

He had avenged his sole professional loss, a disqualification in the early part of his career against Baby Luis, and Vicente knew that a second victory over Winstone would make that record shine even brighter.

Ninian Park

When Saldivar and Winstone came together again at Ninian Park, they were greeted by an emotion-charged crowd of 30,000 and the atmosphere was pulsating. Wales had not enjoyed such a feast of boxing since Ike Williams defended his lightweight championship against Ronnie James at Cardiff in 1946, and while the many thousands of Welshman who longed for a Winstone victory welcomed their hero with a tremendous roar, they sportingly cheered the mighty little Mexican as he approached the ring. They knew they were in the presence of a true fighting champion, a man who had defended his title against the best men in the division and beaten them all.

Soon the fight was on: Saldivar, the 24-year old bull, against Winstone, the 28-year old matador. The roles were well assigned, although on this occasion the matador did his own share of charging.

Winstone must have surprised even his most ardent fans as he immediately carried the fight to Saldivar in a confident and almost arrogant manner. Three left jabs, released with speed and grace, snapped into Saldivar’s face, and a following right brought a look of mild surprise from the champion. It seemed that Howard’s intention was to play his cards aggressively and utilise his full repertoire of skills to unsettle Vicente. And for the first half of the fight, Winstone’s cards were all aces wild.

He had an almost contemptuous air about him as he swept forward. Countless jabs found Saldivar’s face and perfectly timed right crosses reddened his nose.

Frustrated and angry, Saldivar lashed back with heavy hooks to the body, but many of his punches missed as Winstone glided out of range with almost balletic moves that took one’s breath away.

But Saldivar, wonderful Saldivar, always had that ominous look about him. The few punches he was landing were solid and quietly menacing. There were times when Winstone’s aggression forced Saldivar to the ropes, each attack accompanied by a mighty roar from the crowd, but the determined champion was always slamming back with those bronzed and perfectly muscled arms. Howard was supremely fit, but even the fittest men were eventually weakened by the masterful body punching that was Saldivar’s speciality.

The roar of a crowd can do funny things and certainly blur one’s perception of a fight. Much of Saldivar’s quiet industry went unnoticed to the many who were entranced by Winstone’s brilliance. Howard was ghosting around Vicente, flashing out punches with amazing speed and not seeming to be greatly disturbed by the return fire.

Had Winstone finally found the key to defeating his arch-rival? Saldivar’s frustration was clearly visible in the fifth round as he momentarily dropped his arms and stood still, as if taking time out to revise his game plan.

But Vicente was a rare bird, possessed of great mental toughness. Regardless of how the gods were treating him, he just kept punching. He was struck by a gorgeous left-right combination in the sixth round, but still his piston-like arms kept pumping away and Winstone was forced to give ground after taking a couple of hefty blows to the body.

Howard’s pace didn’t slacken and he upped the tempo in the eighth round as he jabbed fast and accurately to have Saldivar on the retreat. Both men began to show the marks of the taxing encounter and Winstone appeared to slow a little in the ninth round as the champion bulled forward and slammed him about the body.

As the fight swung into its later stages, Saldivar began to catch Howard much more frequently, but the battle was full of twists. Each time Winstone appeared to be fading a little, he would rally gloriously. There was a golden moment in the tenth round when he tagged the champion with a perfect combination and quickly followed up with a burst of rapid-fire jabs.

However, the tide was most definitely turning. The crowd held its breath in the eleventh round as Saldivar shifted into top gear and winged in powerful hooks to the body. A big left hook hurt Winstone and a right to the jaw sent him to the ropes. Suddenly Howard looked weary and Vicente seemed to pick up the scent as he drew on his phenomenal stamina and increased his punch rate.

The following rounds were agonising for Winstone’s fans as Saldivar pounded away furiously. Too often Howard elected to trade punches with Vicente instead of retreating, and while these adventurous tactics had reaped dividends in the earlier rounds, they were now proving to be Winstone’s undoing. In his worst moments, though, the courageous Welshman refused to be overwhelmed. From somewhere, during one of those hectic bouts of slugging, he produced a stinging right that sent Saldivar reeling back, and the crowd thundered its approval.

Thrilling

The fight was approaching its climax and had flared into an absolute thriller, full of quality, courage and skill. While Winstone was beginning to wilt, he had carved out such a commanding lead with his whirlwind start that the battle was still an even affair. But the going was now tough for Howard. Like a golfer trying to maintain a fragile, one-stroke lead in a major championship, he was suddenly flagging and looking on the verge of being swamped by the immensity of the task.

In the fourteenth round, Winstone nearly went under as Saldivar stormed forward with a punishing two-fisted attack. A flurry of hard blows suddenly cut Winstone down and sent his supporters into a state of panic. Gutsily he scrambled to his feet, but the following seconds were tortuous for the Welshman as he was driven every which way by Vicente’s ceaseless onslaught.

Lost in the wonderful romance that comes from boxing, I pleaded silently for Winstone’s survival, trying to balance my bias with the contention that any man who has fought so magnificently for so long doesn’t deserve to get knocked out right at the death. Something or someone took Howard by the hand and guided him through the wilderness, but the gut feeling was that the fight had slipped from his grasp as he sat wearily in his corner and awaited the final bell.

Somehow Howard managed to pull himself together during his precious sixty seconds of rest. He fought valiantly throughout the last three minutes, even though he was sent scurrying all around the ring by Saldivar’s violent rushes. The champion was a revelation in that final round as he ripped home punches with a rare ferocity, and it was a measure of Winstone’s mettle that he was still able to fight back.

The crowd let out a deafening cheer at the bell and the optimists prayed for referee Wally Thom to raise Howard’s hand. But the decision was Saldivar’s, and for the second time in his career Howard Winstone was left to reflect on the tantalisingly narrow gap in class that separated him from the great little Mexican. This time the gallant Welsh maestro had failed by half a point to seal that gap and win the one title that had eluded him.

Dream

Undeterred, Winstone chose to pursue his dream. Four months later, his fascinating rivalry with Saldivar entered its third and final chapter in the fierce heat of Mexico City. Winstone boxed brilliantly for ten rounds, but Saldivar’s wave-like attacks proved even more debilitating in the heat and high altitude. Brave Howard was eventually ground down and stopped in the twelfth round.

Three defeats against the same stubborn and ferocious man would have broken the will of many other fighters, but the proud Winstone couldn’t leave it at that. The unexpected retirement of Saldivar as undefeated world champion imbued Howard with fresh ambition and encouraged him to try for the big prize one more time. In January 1968 his persistence finally paid off when he won the WBC version of the vacant title by stopping Mitsunori Seki in the ninth round at the Royal Albert Hall in London.

Much of the old magic was missing in Howard’s work that night, but that was of little importance to his supporters. Winstone was at last a world champion and nothing else seemed to matter.

Great article! I think I'm right in saying that some of the reason for Winstone not carrying much of a punch was because he was actually missing the tops of two of his fingers, which makes his achievements or the more remarkable.

[kikibalt]

Great article! I think I'm right in saying that some of the reason for Winstone not carrying much of a punch was because he was actually missing the tops of two of his fingers, which makes his achievements or the more remarkable.


"WOW"
I didn't know that, yes remarkable!!

[kikibalt]

Bo Diddley, 79; singer-songwriter's beat marked rock 'n' roll

Karen Tapia-Andersen / Los Angeles Times

Diddley performs at a blues festival at Doheny State Beach in 1999. His swaggering stage presence influenced artists including James Brown, Mick Jagger and Jimi Hendrix.

A primal guitar sound and stage swagger influenced music from Elvis to rap. But he never got the full rewards of a pioneer.
By Chris Lee, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

Primal rock and blues musician Bo Diddley, who helped cast the sonic template of rock more than 50 years ago with a signature syncopated rhythm that became universally recognized as "the Bo Diddley beat," died Monday. He was 79.

Diddley died of heart failure at his home in Archer, Fla., spokeswoman Susan Clary said.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame singer-songwriter, who often referred to himself as "the Originator" to emphasize his contribution to rock music, had long battled hypertension and diabetes, among other health problems, and was hospitalized for 11 days after suffering a stroke onstage in Iowa in May 2007.

In August, he had complained of dizziness and nausea during a routine medical checkup and was hospitalized with a heart attack.

Alongside Chuck Berry, Diddley is recognized as one of rock's most influential guitarists, expanding the instrument's vocabulary with a crunching, tremolo-laden sound. He played a rectangular "cigar box" guitar of his own design, an instantly recognizable visual counterpart to the distinctive chank-a-chank, a-chank, a-chank-chank rhythm that bore his name and provided the backbeat for his own songs, including "Bo Diddley," "Mona" and "Who Do You Love."

That beat -- fusing blues, R&B, Latin and African rhythms -- resurfaced over the decades in countless other rock and R&B songs, among them Buddy Holly's "Not Fade Away," Johnny Otis' “Willie and the Hand Jive,” Bruce Springsteen's “She’s the One,” David Bowie's “Panic in Detroit,” U2's “Desire” and George Michael's “Faith.”

"Bo's one of the guys who invented rock 'n' roll," said Eric Burdon, lead singer of the Animals, the British Invasion band that recorded the tribute song “The Story of Bo Diddley” in 1964. "He took two cultures that existed in separate forms -- country and western and the kind of blues that used to be known as 'race music' -- and put them together. His beat was a jungle beat. That's what he called it."

Diddley's most famous songs -- "Who Do You Love," “Mona,” "I'm a Man" and "Bo Diddley" -- are the foundation of a huge catalog of songs that have been covered by the Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, the Grateful Dead and the Doors and even sampled by the rap group De La Soul.

In fact, Diddley is considered by some as a pioneer of rap with his 1959 Top 20 hit "Say Man." On that track, Diddley and maraca player Jerome Green trade jive-talking insults over a percolating beat, a precursor to rap performers' fondness for dissing one another. "That came out of the black neighborhood way back," Diddley told The Times in 1989. "We used to call it 'signifying.' "

He has also been cited as a progenitor of hard rock and heavy metal music for his distortion-drenched sound and near-brutal manner of attacking the fret board.

"He was a wonderful, original musician who was an enormous force in music and was a big influence on the Rolling Stones," the group's lead singer, Mick Jagger, said Monday. "He was very generous to us in our early years and we learned a lot from him. We will never see his likes again."

Bo Diddley was born Otha Ellas Bates in McComb, Miss., on Dec. 30, 1928. His father died shortly after his birth, and his 16-year-old mother was unable to support him. Diddley was later adopted by her first cousin, Gussie McDaniel. She legally changed his name to Ellas McDaniel and brought him north with her family to the South Side of Chicago.

There, he began studying violin at age 7 and taught himself to play guitar in the early 1940s. But it was in grammar school that the rambunctious young Ellas acquired the nickname that would provide his future marquee identity.

He circulated various explanations for the name over the years, but by most accounts, neighborhood kids started calling him "bow diddley" -- slang for "bully." The name also recalled the diddley bow, an African single-string guitar that was seminal to blues music.

After dropping out of Foster Vocational High School in Chicago at 15, he began playing his guitar on street corners for change and later joined a small-time group called the Langley Avenue Jive Cats. Around that time, Diddley held various day jobs -- truck driver, boxcar loader, construction worker -- and boxed as a light heavyweight. But he hung up his gloves at 19 because, as he put it, he "kept getting whupped."

By 1954 he was married and a fixture on the local music circuit when he decided to cut a two-song demo of his original songs "Uncle John" and "I'm a Man." Although he usually adhered to the restrained blues style of his hero, Muddy Waters, Diddley based his recordings on the exultant, frenetic music he had been exposed to in the Pentecostal church as a child.

In 1955, the demo landed him a deal with Chicago's Chess Records label, home to blues stalwarts Willie Dixon, Howlin' Wolf and the young Chuck Berry.

According to the biography "Spinning Into Gold: The Chess Brothers and the Legendary Chess Records," label head Leonard Chess was looking for a stage name catchier than Ellas McDaniel when a studio harmonica player blurted out, "Bo Diddley." The name stuck, and the title for "Uncle John" was changed to "Bo Diddley."

When the single was released that year, it shot to No. 1 on the national R&B chart. Diddley landed an appearance on "The Ed Sullivan Show" before hooking up with disc jockey Alan Freed's rock 'n' roll revue that toured the country.

Diddley's raw, distorted guitar sound connected with audiences from coast to coast. Almost immediately, the singer-songwriter began making an impression on other musicians. Upon seeing Elvis Presley perform in 1956, a reviewer for the Harlem, N.Y., newspaper the Amsterdam News said he had "copied Bo Diddley to the letter." In 1957, Buddy Holly commandeered the Bo Diddley beat for "Not Fade Away." Some have suggested that Holly's horn-rimmed glasses were a nod to Diddley as well.

By the 1960s, the British Invasion threw the spotlight to an onslaught of performers from the U.K. who had been inspired by American blues musicians. In 1973, after the success of Chess' album "The London Howlin' Wolf Sessions," Diddley was teamed with several key British rockers on "The London Bo Diddley Sessions" album in hopes of a career resurgence. But the album failed to duplicate the commercial success of Wolf's outing two years earlier.

Diddley's panache and swaggering stage presence influenced musicians on both sides of the Atlantic, among them Jagger, James Brown and Jimi Hendrix. Diddley's early use of amplified electric-guitar effects -- including reverb, echo and distortion -- also played an important part in the evolution of the sound of rock music when they were taken to further extremes by Hendrix, the Doors and others.

Dressed head to toe in black cowboy regalia or loud plaids, Diddley had a high-kicking, hip-wiggling stage repertoire that included playing the guitar behind his head and with his teeth.

Although Diddley maintained a 76-acre property in Florida, he was rarely home. Touring extensively until last year -- he performed in Australia just a month before his stroke -- Diddley cut a striking figure, sporting a black cowboy hat and thick-rimmed glasses, coaxing space-age, effects-heavy sounds out of his rectangular Gretsch guitar.

"Bo Diddley was a music pioneer and a legend with a unique style," blues legend B.B. King said in a statement to The Times. "We always had a good time when we played together, but his legacy will live on forever."

Blues singer-songwriter Duke Robillard, who covered "Who Do You Love" on an album he released last year, recalls being impressed when the two performed on a bill together 11 years ago. He noted Diddley's mad-scientist approach to tweaking his sound with a customized guitar.

"His guitar had effects and delay built into it so when he'd play a line it would repeat in time with the music," Robillard said last year. "That's pretty futuristic. You wouldn't think of Bo as a guy who could do that electronically. But he had more to him than his one beat."

Even though Diddley helped establish rock 'n' roll's rhythmic bedrock, he never enjoyed the financial success or critical recognition of his two chief contemporaries, Chuck Berry and Little Richard. "Diddley remained firmly rooted in the ghetto," author George R. White wrote in his biography "Bo Diddley: Living Legend." "Both his music and his image were too loud, too raunchy, too black to ever cross over."

Until the end, Diddley remained embittered about both his musical legacy and being exploited by the music industry -- he received no royalties from his classic songs until 1989 -- becoming a vocal champion of fair treatment for veteran blues and R&B musicians.

"Have I been recognized? No, no, no," Diddley told the New York Times in 2003. "Not like I should have been. Have I been ripped off? Have I seen royalty checks? You bet I've been ripped off."

When he was inducted in 1987 into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame -- by the members of the Texas blues-rock trio ZZ Top -- he was part of the second group of rock pioneers granted entrance.

He also toured that year with Rolling Stones guitarist Ron Wood. And into Diddley's final decade, he never faded from the public consciousness, performing at President George H.W. Bush's inaugural gala in 1989 and the Democratic National Convention for Bill Clinton in 1992, collecting a lifetime achievement Grammy in 1998, opening for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers on tour in 1999, performing at fundraisers for Hurricane Katrina and having his songs included on soundtracks for movies, including "Gone in Sixty Seconds," "Ghost Rider," "Joe Dirt" and "Wild Hogs."

As recently as a year ago, in a display of Diddley's determination to regain his health and return to his life on the road, his scheduled British tour was "postponed" rather than canceled.

Divorced from his fourth wife, Diddley is survived by four children, 15 grandchildren, 15 great-grandchildren, three great-great-grandchildren and a brother, the Rev. Kenneth Haynes.

A funeral is scheduled for Saturday in Gainesville, Fla., at the Showers of Blessing Harvest Center. A memorial service at the Martin Luther King Jr. Multi-Purpose Center, featuring members of Diddley's touring band and guest musicians, will follow.

[email protected]

[BoxBuzz]

Winstone and Diddly articles were both good reads...thanks! Bo was an innovator and most contemporary musician's owe this guy some respect. Quite an impact on modern day music from both the rhythmic and lyrical aspects.

[dagosd2000]

Once the home of Archie Moore and Ken Norton. Now the home of the homeless.




The old Coliseum

Diego,

In the mid-late 1970s there was a amateur fighter named Byron Lindsay fighting out of San Diego, my son Tony fought him at the San Diego Coliseum and lost, then fought him in L.A and he beat Byron, anyway Byron got killed in a plane crash in Poland (1980?), also killed was his coach, whom's name I can't recall, he was also out of San Diego, also killed was Carlos Palomino's brother, I believe his name was Paul, did you know Byron Lindsay and his coach?

Yes, I did Frank
"Junior" Robles was Lindsay's coach. The city of National City recently named two streets after them.They were loved by the community.They were always doing things in National City to help kids and older people. !4 boxers and their coaches were among those victims in Poland including Palomino's brother. Robles gym was a fixture in National City.

[dagosd2000]

Frank
BTW,In tribute to Bo Diddley,I will begin to paint his portrait this weekend. I will send it to you.

[kikibalt]

2 streets named for coach, boxer

By David Berlin
UNION-TRIBUNE

NATIONAL CITY – After decades of red tape zoning loopholes and a little finesse two streets this week were named this week after for National City boxing coach Yrenio "Junior" Robles and boxer Byron Lindsay who died in a plane crash in Poland 28 years ago.

K.C. ALFRED / Union-Tribune
National City Councilman Luis Natividad (right) and consultant Augie Baréño spearheaded the effort to name streets in honor boxing coach Yrenio "Junior" Robles and boxer Byron Lindsay.
National City Councilman Luis Natividad and consultant Augie Baréño, longtime friends of Robles, spearheaded the effort.

“A street is forever,” Baréño said. “It's a symbol. Junior and Byron gave their all to the community and their legacy lives on forever.”

Robles and Lindsay were part of a U.S. amateur boxing team that was traveling to Poland for bouts with the Polish team. Their plane, with 87 people aboard, crashed on March 14, 1980, as it approached Warsaw's Okecie airport. All 87 people aboard, including the 14 boxers and eight officials of the U.S. team, were killed.

Tuesday, Robles' and Lindsay's families and friends, National City Mayor Ron Morrison and other city officials and dignitaries gathered at the new Pacific Scene Homes housing development near Rachael Avenue and Blueridge Street in National City to unveil the new signs.

“This is a blessing,” said Lindsay's mother, Venoria Lindsay, when the street signs reading Junior Robles Road and Byron Lindsay Way were revealed. The honor was long overdue, said Baréño, 60.

“Every time we had a new city councilman we brought up the idea,” he said. “We've probably had 10 of them in the last 30 years and each one would try and then get turned down.”
Almost everyone in attendance had a story about Robles and Lindsay.

“Everybody knew Junior,” said Natividad, 65. In addition to being a professional boxer, Robles founded or was involved in many athletic events in South County during the 1970s.

“The only running in the barrio used to be gangs running from police,” Natividad joked. “Then Robles founded the Barrio Run (which went across the San Diego-Coronado Bridge), and all of a sudden, people from all over San Diego were coming just to run in the race.”

Robles and Natividad founded a Sunday softball league in which gang members and police officers played each other. Robles frequently visited high school principals, rounding up troubled students to bring to boxing gyms, Baréño said.

“He used the gyms to get kids out of trouble and put their energy into more positive things,” Natividad said.

David Soliven, a district attorney investigator, was one of those youths.

“I was about 12 at the time and I could have gone either way, towards a gang or the good side. Junior introduced me to boxing and I got so into it and that was it,” Soliven said. “Junior used to make us breakfast and drive us to school. He was really like a second father.”

Lindsay might have been Robles' greatest protege, but Robles never told him how great he was going to be, Natividad said.

“He would only concentrate on the next fight,” he said.

“Lindsay was the real symbol for all the youth,” Baréño added. “Kids can still look at the success Lindsay had as a boxer and look up to that.”

A photo of Robles and Lindsay hangs prominently at the Community Youth Athletic Center on National City Boulevard, watching over a new generation of boxing students.

Baréño said Robles was the first person to convince high schools to open up their gyms to the community.

“Nobody would say no to him,” he said. “People responded to Junior. He had a way of capturing all the existing energy of the community back then.”

“Everyone knew who he was,” Natividad said. “So if you were acting up, you saw him and nobody would do anything if Junior was there.”

But Natividad said he hated to be around Robles when he was boxing.

“He was so focused he didn't pay any attention to me,” he said. “We went out and had all this fun, but when he started boxing he was so serious.”

The deaths of Robles and Lindsay were a tremendous loss for the community, Natividad said.

“I remember seeing it on TV and I sat down in the kitchen with my wife and we just cried. It was very tough,” he said. “Doing this will hopefully make things right.”


David Berlin is a Union-Tribune news assistant

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diego,

Any chance you could get some pics. of Junior and Byron to post here?

[dagosd2000]

diego,

Any chance you could get some pics. of Junior and Byron to post here?

Frank
Thanks for posting that touching story on "Junior" and Byron. I'm going to go to National City this weekend to the Community Center and take some photos of "Junior" and Byron and then I'll send them to you.

[kikibalt]

diego,

Any chance you could get some pics. of Junior and Byron to post here?

Frank
Thanks for posting that touching story on "Junior" and Byron. I'm going to go to National City this weekend to the Community Center and take some photos of "Junior" and Byron and then I'll send them to you.

Thanks!

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Clarence Henry (R) vs John Holman

[kikibalt]

AN APPRECIATION
The night Bo Diddley banned the Beat
How do you play with a legend without doing it the legendary way? By learning his lesson of keeping himself new.
By Dave Alvin, Special to The Times

"Whatever you do, do not play 'the Beat!' "

That was the first thing Bo Diddley said to us before we walked onto the stage of the Music Machine club in West L.A. for two sets in 1983. We were a mix of members of the Blasters and X who had agreed, with great enthusiasm, to back up one of our greatest heroes for free at a benefit show for the Southern California Blues Society.

To say that we were upset by his announcement/warning would be an understatement. How could you play Bo Diddley songs and not play the powerful, infectious and sensual Bo Diddley Beat?

Since Bo's first records for the Chess label back in the mid-'50s, his "Beat" (a primal and relentless mix of the old shave-and-a-haircut riff, Chicago blues grooves and Latin rhythms) had been borrowed, stolen or adapted by everyone from Buddy Holly to the Rolling Stones to David Bowie for their own hit records.

Now, even though Bo had used various permutations of the Beat over the course of his long career, he was asking us to abandon it entirely in favor of . . . what? It's sort of like asking an actor to do "Hamlet" but don't use any of Shakespeare's words.

Blasters drummer Bill Bateman and X drummer DJ Bonebreak, sharing the drum and percussion duties for the night, asked Bo to clarify what beat they should play. He tapped out some rhythm that stressed a different accent, but, to be honest, I couldn't tell what the difference was. Fortunately, Bill and DJ picked up on his instructions, and by the end of the first song Bo seemed pretty happy.

It was a very good band, with Bill and DJ teaming for the essential duties on drums, timbales and maracas, X's John Doe and Blasters bassist John Bazz sharing the bass position, while my brother Phil, who also played some harmonica, and I followed Bo as best we could on guitars.

Most of the songs in the first set were new songs that Bo had recently recorded but none of us had ever heard, let alone studied. We (and just about every other musician in the modern age) had been dissecting all of his old records for years with the passion of theology students poring over the Dead Sea Scrolls or physicists debating string theory. A couple of the songs in the set were straight blues that easily fell into a comfortable pocket, but the rest were extended one-chord, semi-funk jams that wound up sounding as much like "Bitches Brew"-era Miles Davis as they did classic Bo Diddley.

As the set progressed and I began to get comfortable with Bo's new beats, I started thinking that it was close-minded of me to expect him to play the old songs the same old way. Wasn't Bo Diddley as much of a musical revolutionary as Bob Dylan? Weren't his original recordings of "Mona" or "Who Do You Love?" as musically unique, pivotal and influential in their day as Dylan's?

Maybe Bo wasn't the genius lyricist that Dylan is, but in rock 'n' roll (or blues and folk), lyrics aren't everything. If Dylan could change the melodies, grooves and even lyrics to his songs to keep exploring the possibilities of his art, why couldn't Bo Diddley?

Some people would argue that Bo was one of the architects of funk and, if that's the case, why shouldn't he be allowed to follow his own rhythmic path to wherever it might lead him? Why should Bo Diddley have to be stuck in the past just because that's where a part of his audience (and perhaps his backing bands) wanted him to remain?

I remember smiling on stage like a goofball as I realized all of this and came to the conclusion that if you really dig Bo Diddley, then let Bo Diddley be Bo Diddley! I was a young guy at the time who was trying his best to replicate old music -- and that's the best way to learn, believe me -- but that night Bo taught me a lesson about growing and surviving as a musician/artist: Stay true to yourself.

After the first set I approached Bo backstage and told him what I had been thinking while I played with him. "That's right," he said, laughing. "I already made all them old records years ago. Now I'm keeping myself new."

But as we walked back onstage for the second set, Bo turned to us, smiled and said, "You know, you boys are pretty good, so I'll tell what: The first song is gonna be 'Mona' and you can play with the Bo Diddley Beat." And we did.

Thank you, Bo, for all your incredible music over the years and, especially, the wise life lesson you taught me.

Singer, songwriter and guitarist Dave Alvin has been a member of the Blasters X and the Knitters and leads his own roots-rock group, the Guilty Men.

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In N Out Double Cheese Burger

[Rick Farris]

In N Out Double Cheese Burger

It looks like some of the 80's heavyweights who challenged Larry Holmes for the title.

-Rick

[kikibalt]

In N Out Double Cheese Burger

It looks like some of the 80's heavyweights who challenged Larry Holmes for the title.

-Rick

Greg Page? did Page challenged Holmes?

[kikibalt]

Joe Louis

"The Brown Bomber"
By Diego

[scartissue]

In N Out Double Cheese Burger

It looks like some of the 80's heavyweights who challenged Larry Holmes for the title.

-Rick

LOL! How many of those did we see? I remember Leroy Jones and David Bey. And of course there was James Broad whom Holmes did not fight but I'm sure wanted to. Man, this was the dawning of the age of the fat heavyweight. No more 185-200 pounder. This was embarrassing. I recall some announcer intentionally referring to James 'Broadaxe' Broad as 'Broadass'.

Scartissue

[dagosd2000]

In N Out Double Cheese Burger

It looks like some of the 80's heavyweights who challenged Larry Holmes for the title.

-Rick

LOL! How many of those did we see? I remember Leroy Jones and David Bey. And of course there was James Broad whom Holmes did not fight but I'm sure wanted to. Man, this was the dawning of the age of the fat heavyweight. No more 185-200 pounder. This was embarrassing. I recall some announcer intentionally referring to James 'Broadaxe' Broad as 'Broadass'.

Scartissue

Maybe you guys can recall some names,but in the 50's and early 60's I don't remember any soft heavyweights. Rex Layne,at times ,I thought could have been trimmer. Cockell another. The first guy that caught my attention was Buster Mathis,but I didn't think I'd see many more heavyweights like him afterwards. Today you see fighters go up in weight when they give up serious training and you see fat middleweights. Guys like Duran and Tony Ayala Jr. looked bad at the end. I kept thinking of all the booze and drugs that were still in their systems.

[scartissue]

Guys, a news tidbit that seemed to get no press, only a brief blurb. Tony Licata passed away last week. He was only 56 and died of a heart attack. I believe I only saw Licata fight once (the Monzon fight) but read about him intently as I picked up every magazine during the '70s. Beat Emile Griffith, Mike Rossman, Denny Moyer, Vinnie Curto and Mike Nixon. Although he got tagged early in the Monzon fight, he fought his way back into it doggedly, until getting nailed in the 10th. Nice boxer, not a banger but one who didn't mind getting tucked in. Damn shame it didn't get a bit of press. Frank, do you have any photos of Tony?

Scartissue

[kikibalt]

Dan,
This is all I have on Tony Licata, I posted this at CBZ.
by Jim Amato



One of the better middleweights of the 1970’s died recently. Tony Licata was a victim of a heart attack at the age of 56.

The smooth boxing Licata turned professional in 1969 and was undefeated in his first 52 fights. ( 49-0-3 ). During that streak he defeated the likes of Mike Pusateri, Luis Vinales, Jose Chirino, Art Hernandez, Denny Moyer, Emile Griffith, Cubby ” Top Cat ” Jackson, Mike Baker and Vinnie Curto. He suffered his first loss in 1975 on an upset decision to Argentina’s Ramon Mendez. Tony came right back to outscore Mendez in a rematch. On June 30, 1975 Licata met another native of Argentina, the great Carlos Monzon. This was for the middleweight title and they fought at New York’s Madison Square Garden. It would be Monzon’s only appearance in the United States. Licata fought gamely but was overpowered by King Carlos in round ten.

Licata would go on to lose five more times in his career to Jean Mateo, Mike Colbert, Alan Minter, Fred Johnson and Tony Chiaverini. After the loss to Monzon he did defeat Mike Rossman, Mike Nixon and Mel Dennis. Tony retired in 1980 after 72 fights. His overall record was an outstanding 61-7-4 with 27 knockouts. He was halted on four occasions. He met four world champions. May he rest in peace.

[kikibalt]

Code woes of Hollywood's Cadillac Corner

Richard Hartog / Los Angeles Times
Frank Corrente stands at his Cadillac Corner vintage car lot in Hollywood,. Los Angeles building inspectors say he opened his 21-year-old store without the proper permits. They have ordered him to retroactively file the paperwork and bring the lot up to current standards.
It may be the end of the road for the landmark that has run afoul of the city.
By Bob Pool, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

It may be fin for Hollywood's house of fins.

After 21 years of waxing chrome bumpers and wreathed crests and washing white sidewalls and wrap-around windshields at 7614 Sunset Blvd., Frank Corrente might have to haul his fleet of vintage V-8s out of town.

Cadillac CornerLos Angeles building inspectors say Corrente opened his Cadillac Corner car lot in 1987 without the proper permits. They have ordered him to file the paperwork and bring the lot up to current standards or else padlock its gate permanently.

That means replacing his sales office, reducing his 45-car inventory, and removing the fluttering flags and circus-style tent that sometimes shades shark-finned classics such as the '59 El Dorado convertible and the boat-sized '60 Coupe de Ville hardtop.

Corrente says that after more than two decades of taking his car lot taxes and business license fees, authorities ought to cut him some slack.

He said he cannot afford to lose the vintage car display space that the ordered modifications would require and he cannot afford to pay for a new office structure.

"Running people out of business doesn't help L.A.," he said.

Building and Safety officials have summoned Corrente to a Thursday hearing to determine if a criminal complaint will be filed against him.

The department's Code Enforcement Bureau violation notice cited issues with the car lot itself, its sales office and the 60-foot-long tent. It threatened him with a $200 fine for each vintage Cadillac sold from the unapproved lot.

A department spokesman said the city has an ongoing inspection program designed to bring automotive sales lots into compliance with city rules. He said Corrente's lot may have been reported by a tipster as failing to comply with zoning requirements or it may have been randomly chosen for inspection.

But the city does not reveal tipsters' names, said Robert Steinbach. And it is unlikely that Cadillac Corner pre-dates the current city zoning code, which has existed since the 1960s, Steinbach said.

Corrente can appeal any compliance order to the city Board of Building and Safety Commissioners, although it is unlikely that the handicapped-access requirement would be waived since it is a state law, Steinbach said.

Cadillac Corner is stuffed with classic Cadillacs, requiring Corrente and his customers to park on Sunset Boulevard or in a next-door copy shop's parking lot.

His sales office is a small, trailer-mounted modular building reached by metal steps.

As part of the city-ordered upgrade, Corrente also must install a sewer line connection. Currently, the lot's toilet is hooked up to a neighboring auto body shop's line.

Corrente said his landlord, who also owns the body shop building, is willing only to give a three-year extension to his $6,000-a-month lease, which is set to increase by $1,400. That makes remodeling and updating the car lot unfeasible, he said.

"It would cost up to 50 grand. I can't amortize that in three years," he said.

"If you forgive me for saying it, but I'm famous all over the world. Tour buses stop out front. This is Hollywood. I don't detract from it, I add to it."

Corrente, who lives above the Sunset Strip and drives a 1947 Cadillac convertible, speaks with an East Coast Italian accent as he recounts the celebrities who have visited Cadillac Corner over the years.

His tiny trailer office is lined with photos of him with such figures as Elizabeth Taylor, James Brown, Kathy Lee Gifford and Pamela Anderson.

His lot and its vintage V-8s are a frequent backdrop for photo shoots.

"People come from all over the world to take pictures. I don't have a junkyard here," he said.

Model Yesica Toscanini was pictured on the hoods of 1955 and 1970 El Dorado convertibles and with half a dozen other of Corrente's cars for Sports Illustrated's 2006 swimsuit edition. Corrente himself is in one picture.

The city's requirement that he give up used-car display space in the crowded lot is especially galling, Corrente said.

"I'd have to give them six parking spaces, plus space to turn around. I'd have to give up space along the front for a landscaped setback from Sunset," he said. "They want a wheelchair ramp. In 21 years I've never had a handicapped person come in here."

Last month he wrote Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa asking for help.

"I'm not saying I have a right not to obey the law. But I'm not hurting anyone," Corrente said. "The mayor could have thrown me a pass, don't you think?"

If the city doesn't bend, Corrente said, he is prepared to corral his Cadillacs and head for wider spaces -- perhaps in Las Vegas.

That would mean Hollywood's fanciful family of fins is finished.

[email protected]

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Frankie Baltazar training in La Puente,Ca. circa-1978

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John Martinez and I working Tony's corner in one of his earlier fights.
Circa--1979

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[Expug]

I like that article about Rodolfo and Mando.
The thing that jumps out at you is, its just an article about a couple fighters.
It didnt have to be a promo for a pay perview extravaganza which is the only time a fight or fighters seem to get any ink nowadays.
I also like that Rodolfo didnt wanna be treated as a mere sparring partner.
Its attitude like that that makes a champ.