Classic American West Coast Boxing

[bennie]

great photo.

it reminds me of the writing of the grea British sports writer, Hugh McIlvanney. He said that whilst Macgowan's skin was paper-thin and obviously prone to cutting, the Thai 'looked like a woodsman's axe would fail to make a dent in it'

McIlvanney is certainly a great, great writer.

[Counter-puncher]

yep, best british boxing writer I have read, i think. he has that way with phrases - 'the fight between Saldivar and Winstone was one that was decided in the womb' - that just makes fights and incidents within fights stick in my mind. plus he had the honesty and integrity to speak out when our sport's uglier side reared it's head.

[bennie]

yep, best british boxing writer I have read, i think. he has that way with phrases - 'the fight between Saldivar and Winstone was one that was decided in the womb' - that just makes fights and incidents within fights stick in my mind. plus he had the honesty and integrity to speak out when our sport's uglier side reared it's head.

I remember when he told Sugar Ray Leonard during a TV interview in England that he felt Hagler had beaten him, Leonard just stood up, shook his hand and walked out.
Funny.

[kikibalt]

Letters, L.A.Times

He can pick them

Oscar De La Hoya always had a special talent, especially in his early career, for picking safe opponents and ducking those who might have provided a true test for him. He fought has-beens and up-and-comers, carefully selecting from a cornucopia of safe choices.

And when you feel as good as Oscar did (in his prime) beating fighters long past their own, such as Julio Cesar Chavez, and gloat and relish to have punished this man at a time only glimpses of his skill remained, then you know someone is pushing his ego and marketing machine more than his boxing skills could ever have justly allowed.

Now he wants to fight a little guy, Manny Pacquiao, who started out as a straw-weight, to give him the best chance at closing with a win.

How can you respect someone like that?

Michael E. White

I couldn't agree more with the writer

[kikibalt]

Korean Mexicans learn more of their Asian roots on visit to Southern California

Luis Sinco / Los Angeles Times
ALIGHT: Plaza Mexico, a Lynwood shopping center designed to look like Mexico, was the vision of Donald Chae, a Korean American who grew up among Latinos and has traveled throughout Mexico. “I am a Korean American Mexican,” he quips. More photos >>>
The visitors are descendants of Koreans lured to the Yucatan Peninsula a century ago by false promises. In ensuing decades, they spread to other parts of Mexico and abandoned the Korean language.

By Hector Becerra, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
August 16, 2008

The teenagers and young adults struggled as they rehearsed an ancient Korean song, a kind of lamentation to leaving home.

"Uno, dos, tres," began Fermin Kim, 48, a chaperon for the group.

Los Angeles is a city where the large Mexican and Korean communities co-exist in ways that both bring them together and separate them. They share the immigrant experience and communication barriers that come with it. But the different languages -- Spanish and Korean -- can also be an obstacle.

Here, however, the fusion was literal. The teens and twentysomethings bear strong Korean features but consider themselves true Mexicans. Even their older chaperons, Fermin Kim and David Kim, 70 (not related), no longer spoke Korean -- though they are third- and fourth-generation Korean Mexicans who have no Mexican blood.

The group of 20 were to perform that night for Korean and Mexican dignitaries in one of the banquet halls. They practiced the Korean folk song over and over, as Korean Americans and Latino waiters looked on. They only really felt comfortable when they started to consider which Mexican song to perform.

"And all for what, and all for what, if in the end you lose?" Rafael Kim, 23, of Mexico City crooned.

They were the descendants of Koreans lured in 1905 by ship to plantations on the Yucatan Peninsula in southern Mexico. Instead of finding a better life, they were sold to plantation owners and forced to cultivate henequen, a plant whose tough fiber was used to make things like rope.

The Koreans and their descendants would come to be known as the Henequen, in part because they were so hardy and hard-working. They had fled a Korea that was under Japanese rule, and despite their struggle, they sent money back home, hoping to help their countrymen gain independence. But few ever saw their homeland again.

In the ensuing decades, they spread to other parts of Mexico -- and increasingly intermarried with Mexicans. Little by little, they abandoned the Korean language. Alberto King, a 23-year-old college student in Tijuana, said that although his mother looked Korean she spoke only Spanish. Her own parents had stopped speaking Korean.

"The Mexicans at first would not accept them. So their own parents decided to cut off the language and just talk Spanish," King said. "It went really badly for them because of the language."

Fermin Kim said fights were a part of life in grade school, when they would be called chinos (Chinese). In the beginning, intermarriage was strongly discouraged. He said he had a Mexican girlfriend and his grandparents reacted by asking, " 'Where did you find her?' They got mad." He ended up marrying another Korean Mexican. David Kim, his fellow chaperon, said that despite being one of the older Henequen, he married a Mexican woman.

For decades, as Korea struggled under foreign rule and wars, the Korean Mexicans were largely forgotten. Various estimates place their numbers at up to 30,000. But as South Korea began to prosper economically and the centennial of the Koreans' arrival in Yucatan drew near, attention focused on them.

They were visited by South Korean politicians and were invited to their ancestors' homeland. Korean Mexicans were flown to South Korea to get special job training. South Koreans built hospitals and schools in Mexico and were feted by Mexican officials.

"When the centennial happened in 2005, we almost got celebrity treatment," Fermin Kim said. "That's something we never had in 99 years."

That year, a group of Korean Mexicans was brought by the Korean-American Foundation to Plaza Mexico in Lynwood. The visitors were surprised by how many people of Korean descent live in the Los Angeles area.

"We didn't even know there was such a large Korean community so close by," Fermin Kim said. "We didn't even know there was a Koreatown. We hadn't integrated with Koreans here."

Plaza Mexico, which opened in 2002, was the vision of Donald Chae, a Korean American who grew up among Latinos and who has traveled throughout Mexico. Chae tells people that, "I don't speak Spanish. I speak Mexican."

"I am a Korean American Mexican," he quips. "I'm still waiting for my pasaporte."

The center was built with Mexican stone and boasted touches like a swap meet with a facade designed after the colonial-era governor's mansion in Guadalajara and a shrine for the Virgin of Guadalupe.

Chae said that when he spoke to the young Korean Mexicans, he could tell they were surprised he spoke Spanish fluently. He in turn was struck by how strongly their identity was rooted.

"They're real Mexicans," Chae said. "They have a real Mexican way of talking. They use a lot of doble sentidos (double entendres). Mexicans use a lot of double meanings."

But he said it was important that they learn about the other culture that informed their lives and those of their ancestors.

"When you don't know your culture," Chae said, "you get lost."

By 6:30 p.m., the spectators had taken their seats. A Korean woman dressed in a blue sequined dress sang the American and Korean national anthems. A few of the Korean Mexican youths tried to gamely mouth the words of the latter.

The consul generals of Mexico and Korea gave speeches. Four of the Korean Mexicans performed a tea ceremony as Hyun Kim led them with hand signals. Then a Mexican folkloric group and a Korean dance troupe took turns on the stage.

Dressed in their mix-and-match outfits, the young Korean Mexicans looked on with mouths slightly agape as the teenage Korean girls used wooden sticks to rapidly beat elevated drums.

Then the 20 Korean Mexicans took the stage.

Arirang, Arirang, Arariyo. . . . The song describing a woman, looking as her husband walked away up a crooked road.

The audience smiled and clapped. Moments later, the youths jumped into the Mexican song they had decided to sing: "Cielito Lindo."

From the brown Sierras,

Heavenly one, they come descending,

A pair of dark eyes, heavenly one. . . . .

Ay ay ay ay, sing and don't cry. . . . .

As people streamed out of the hall, Rafael Kim said he was moved most of all by the Korean girls who danced so gracefully and full of purpose, as if they knew full well who they were.

"You feel a sensation of pride, because you're a Korean descendant, just like them," he said in Spanish. "I see them dance so beautifully, and that I didn't know of things like this as a child, it makes me a little sad. It's a feeling of discovered feelings."

As he walked away, Woo Jun Lee, a stocky middle-aged Korean American, ran over to Kim so they could all take a picture together.

Waving his hand, Lee cried out: "Hey, paisano!"

[email protected]

[kikibalt]

Jose Young Aladro Chio, center, a Korean Mexican, stands for the singing of the Korean national anthem during the Lynwood dinner.

[kikibalt]

Beyond the silhouette of a mariachi player is an image of early Korean immigrants to Mexico.

[kikibalt]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GBwSN0Yw5l0
Dusty Springfield

"You don't have to say you love me"

[kikibalt]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kv8q9JN5gmc
"What am I living for"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JOzg5-XGmk4
"Betty and Dupree"

And the Stroll

[Rick Farris]

You know, Rick, I really appreciate the invitation and all the friendliness exhibited toward this old Okie by all the regulars on the West Coast thread. But I will either be in New Zealand or getting ready to depart for New Zealand at that time to visit my son (and Bob Fitzsimmons' ancestral home in Tamaru.) Can I have a rain check for next year?[/quote]



No problem, Tom. As long as I am associated with the WBHOF you will be welcome to join us. By the way, my grandfather was an "Oakie". He was born on Indian territory in Bartlesville, Ok. in 1900. He was half Cherokee and after WWI returned from Europe with my grandmother (whom he'd met in England) to work in the oil fields, where he also was boxer. They came to California in 1920 and started a family.

My grandfather and I were very close and it was he who made it possible for me to box. I might also ad that shortly before the depression in 1927, he went to work for Warner Bros. Studios which had just been built in Burbank. He did pretty well for an orphaned half breed Okie, becoming a legendary figure in the film industry, winning two academy award citations, and designing lighting for films such as "Casablanca", "Rebel Without A Cause", "The African Queen", "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Wolf", "The Great Race", "My Fair Lady", to name a few.

In 1967, I fought in the annual Jr. Golden Gloves tournament, and drew a boxer named Claude Durden in my first elimination bout. The bout was held at Hawaiian Gardens Teen Post and Frank Baltazar made the match. Durden was a powerful young kid who was knocking kids out left and right. Before the match, Durden's trainer Billy Mitchell came up to my grandfather in the dressing room and told him, "My boy Durden is gunna knock your boy out". My grandfather looked Mitchell in the eye and reached into his pocket for his wallet, answering "well, how much money you want to bet on your boy?" Mitchell, a guy with a bully nature just blinked and started to laugh, "I like you" he said, but it was good for him he didn't take my grandad up on his offer.

In the first bout of the 86-95 pound eliminations, I dropped Claude Durden flat on his back in the opening round with a right, then proceeded to easily win a three round decision thus advancing to the quarter finals. I was really proud of what my grandfather did and, needless to say, he was kinda proud of me that night. And just for the record, a few months later we fought in a rematch at a hod carrier's Union Hall in Santa Ana. Once again, I easily decisioned Claude Durden, Hey Frank, do you remember that?

-Rick

[Rick Farris]

You are important, Rick, and I truly appreciate the offer, although, sadly, I cannot see myself making the trip. The taxman, you know. I have met Calzaghe once or twice and he seems like a nice guy, if a little moody, and I 've never been able to understand a word Enzo (his dad/trainer) says; Lewis, no BS, lived right next door to a relative of mine in Crayford in Kent (near London) when he turned pro. His mum came round in tears when Roger Levitt, who backed Lewis, went bust and the house was repossessed. I don't think Lewis has ever forgiven Levitt for allowing that to happen. In court Lewis is a much better fighter than he is in the ring. Incidentally, when the Lewis 'gay' rumours were flying around, I knew for a fact they were false. My auntie told me they could hear him 'entertaining' women (cough, cough) through the rather thin walls we have over here. I also found it amusing when I heard that Lewis, before his biggest (first biggest) win over Razor Ruddock, was 'pumped up' in the back garden by his team before he set off for the fight. They were all stomping around chanting things, much like Araon Pryor's "Hawk Time!"
It beats a barbeque.[/quote]




Bennie, you will always be welcome to join us in the future and, without a doubt, we will all toast you that night. That was really interesting info you provided on Lennox Lewis. By the way, my ex-girlfriend, who is a production designer in the UK film community, just moved to Kent last year, from a village in Hertsfordshire, Radlett. By the way, I know the tax man better than I'd like to. Just got the bastard off my back last year!

-Rick

[raylawpc]

You know, Rick, I really appreciate the invitation and all the friendliness exhibited toward this old Okie by all the regulars on the West Coast thread. But I will either be in New Zealand or getting ready to depart for New Zealand at that time to visit my son (and Bob Fitzsimmons' ancestral home in Tamaru.) Can I have a rain check for next year?

No problem, Tom. As long as I am associated with the WBHOF you will be welcome to join us. By the way, my grandfather was an "Oakie". He was born on Indian territory in Bartlesville, Ok. in 1900. He was half Cherokee and after WWI returned from Europe with my grandmother (whom he'd met in England) to work in the oil fields, where he also was boxer. They came to California in 1920 and started a family.

My grandfather and I were very close and it was he who made it possible for me to box. I might also ad that shortly before the depression in 1927, he went to work for Warner Bros. Studios which had just been built in Burbank. He did pretty well for an orphaned half breed Okie, becoming a legendary figure in the film industry, winning two academy award citations, and designing lighting for films such as "Casablanca", "Rebel Without A Cause", "The African Queen", "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Wolf", "The Great Race", "My Fair Lady", to name a few.

In 1967, I fought in the annual Jr. Golden Gloves tournament, and drew a boxer named Claude Durden in my first elimination bout. The bout was held at Hawaiian Gardens Teen Post and Frank Baltazar made the match. Durden was a powerful young kid who was knocking kids out left and right. Before the match, Durden's trainer Billy Mitchell came up to my grandfather in the dressing room and told him, "My boy Durden is gunna knock your boy out". My grandfather looked Mitchell in the eye and reached into his pocket for his wallet, answering "well, how much money you want to bet on your boy?" Mitchell, a guy with a bully nature just blinked and started to laugh, "I like you" he said, but it was good for him he didn't take my grandad up on his offer.

In the first bout of the 86-95 pound eliminations, I dropped Claude Durden flat on his back in the opening round with a right, then proceeded to easily win a three round decision thus advancing to the quarter finals. I was really proud of what my grandfather did and, needless to say, he was kinda proud of me that night. And just for the record, a few months later we fought in a rematch at a hod carrier's Union Hall in Santa Ana. Once again, I easily decisioned Claude Durden, Hey Frank, do you remember that?

-Rick[/quote]

Thanks Rick. And thanks for the story about your grandfather. My Grandfather was my best friend. I still miss him and think about him everyday.

P.S., I am a bit Cherokee myself from my paternal grandmother (1/32 I believe).

[kikibalt]

No problem, Tom. As long as I am associated with the WBHOF you will be welcome to join us. By the way, my grandfather was an "Oakie". He was born on Indian territory in Bartlesville, Ok. in 1900. He was half Cherokee and after WWI returned from Europe with my grandmother (whom he'd met in England) to work in the oil fields, where he also was boxer. They came to California in 1920 and started a family.

My grandfather and I were very close and it was he who made it possible for me to box. I might also ad that shortly before the depression in 1927, he went to work for Warner Bros. Studios which had just been built in Burbank. He did pretty well for an orphaned half breed Okie, becoming a legendary figure in the film industry, winning two academy award citations, and designing lighting for films such as "Casablanca", "Rebel Without A Cause", "The African Queen", "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Wolf", "The Great Race", "My Fair Lady", to name a few.

In 1967, I fought in the annual Jr. Golden Gloves tournament, and drew a boxer named Claude Durden in my first elimination bout. The bout was held at Hawaiian Gardens Teen Post and Frank Baltazar made the match. Durden was a powerful young kid who was knocking kids out left and right. Before the match, Durden's trainer Billy Mitchell came up to my grandfather in the dressing room and told him, "My boy Durden is gunna knock your boy out". My grandfather looked Mitchell in the eye and reached into his pocket for his wallet, answering "well, how much money you want to bet on your boy?" Mitchell, a guy with a bully nature just blinked and started to laugh, "I like you" he said, but it was good for him he didn't take my grandad up on his offer.

In the first bout of the 86-95 pound eliminations, I dropped Claude Durden flat on his back in the opening round with a right, then proceeded to easily win a three round decision thus advancing to the quarter finals. I was really proud of what my grandfather did and, needless to say, he was kinda proud of me that night. And just for the record, a few months later we fought in a rematch at a hod carrier's Union Hall in Santa Ana. Once again, I easily decisioned Claude Durden, Hey Frank, do you remember that?

-Rick

Rick,

I have to be honest with you, I just don't remember any particular show/shows of those years, I ran the JR's for ten years, can you imagine the number of fight I supervise and seen, I don't remember Claude Durden in the Jr's, I just remember him as a pro because he fought Frankie, losing by 7rd ko.

[Expug]

Hello gents.
Been on vacation for the past week.
Playing Cowboy at a Ranch in Michigan with the Family.
Great time.
I see things are rolling along beautifully here.

[sockdolager]

Hello gents.
Been on vacation for the past week.
Playing Cowboy at a Ranch in Michigan with the Family.
Great time.
I see things are rolling along beautifully here.

Welcome back, hope the time away was fun.

[Expug]

Hello gents.
Been on vacation for the past week.
Playing Cowboy at a Ranch in Michigan with the Family.
Great time.
I see things are rolling along beautifully here.

Welcome back, hope the time away was fun.

Thanks Sock.

[kikibalt]

Hello gents.
Been on vacation for the past week.
Playing Cowboy at a Ranch in Michigan with the Family.
Great time.
I see things are rolling along beautifully here.

Was wondering where you were at Puggys.

[Randyman]

You know, Rick, I really appreciate the invitation and all the friendliness exhibited toward this old Okie by all the regulars on the West Coast thread. But I will either be in New Zealand or getting ready to depart for New Zealand at that time to visit my son (and Bob Fitzsimmons' ancestral home in Tamaru.) Can I have a rain check for next year?

No problem, Tom. As long as I am associated with the WBHOF you will be welcome to join us. By the way, my grandfather was an "Oakie". He was born on Indian territory in Bartlesville, Ok. in 1900. He was half Cherokee and after WWI returned from Europe with my grandmother (whom he'd met in England) to work in the oil fields, where he also was boxer. They came to California in 1920 and started a family.

My grandfather and I were very close and it was he who made it possible for me to box. I might also ad that shortly before the depression in 1927, he went to work for Warner Bros. Studios which had just been built in Burbank. He did pretty well for an orphaned half breed Okie, becoming a legendary figure in the film industry, winning two academy award citations, and designing lighting for films such as "Casablanca", "Rebel Without A Cause", "The African Queen", "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Wolf", "The Great Race", "My Fair Lady", to name a few.

In 1967, I fought in the annual Jr. Golden Gloves tournament, and drew a boxer named Claude Durden in my first elimination bout. The bout was held at Hawaiian Gardens Teen Post and Frank Baltazar made the match. Durden was a powerful young kid who was knocking kids out left and right. Before the match, Durden's trainer Billy Mitchell came up to my grandfather in the dressing room and told him, "My boy Durden is gunna knock your boy out". My grandfather looked Mitchell in the eye and reached into his pocket for his wallet, answering "well, how much money you want to bet on your boy?" Mitchell, a guy with a bully nature just blinked and started to laugh, "I like you" he said, but it was good for him he didn't take my grandad up on his offer.

In the first bout of the 86-95 pound eliminations, I dropped Claude Durden flat on his back in the opening round with a right, then proceeded to easily win a three round decision thus advancing to the quarter finals. I was really proud of what my grandfather did and, needless to say, he was kinda proud of me that night. And just for the record, a few months later we fought in a rematch at a hod carrier's Union Hall in Santa Ana. Once again, I easily decisioned Claude Durden, Hey Frank, do you remember that?

-Rick[/quote]

Rick, that was a great little story and it really touched me. You seem to appreciate and realize what a gift it was to have had your grandfather in your life. One of my life's biggest regrets, or perhaps sorrow would be a better word, is that I never knew my paternal grandfather, Santiago De La O. I was a year old when he passed away in 1955. He was 69. I have heard so many stories about him while I was growing up, that I almost felt like I knew him, almost but still, it wasn't the same as really knowing him. He was a scrapper though from all I've heard. My grandfather, who was an alcoholic, worked on the rail roads, he would get his paychecks, and head for the saloons, in Las Cruces, New Mexico, drink until the roosters came home and then he would walk home.

One day, as he was walking down the street, two men, were waiting in an alley, they grabbed him at knife point, intending to kill him and rob him. It cost them their lives. He owned a stiletto and knew how to use it. He slit both their throats and left them in the alley. He was hard. But from all I've heard he was also a kind and generous man.

My mother's father, Auggie, died just before I left for the Navy Boot camp, in 1972. I only saw him about three or four times in my life. he was a traveling man. He would jump the trains, or hitchhike across the country, live somewhere for few years, live with a woman, and move on. He was also an alcoholic. He died in jail cell in Los Angeles. He was found beaten to death. my mother took it hard.

My own father passed at the age of 57 in 1981, my oldest daughter was two weeks shy of three. My other kids never knew him. I try to make up to it by being the best grandfather I can to my own grandkids. My only grandson Nathan passed away in 2001. I didn't mean to go on and on, it's just that your story about your grandfather just kind of hit home.

Randy

[Randyman]

You know, Rick, I really appreciate the invitation and all the friendliness exhibited toward this old Okie by all the regulars on the West Coast thread. But I will either be in New Zealand or getting ready to depart for New Zealand at that time to visit my son (and Bob Fitzsimmons' ancestral home in Tamaru.) Can I have a rain check for next year?

No problem, Tom. As long as I am associated with the WBHOF you will be welcome to join us. By the way, my grandfather was an "Oakie". He was born on Indian territory in Bartlesville, Ok. in 1900. He was half Cherokee and after WWI returned from Europe with my grandmother (whom he'd met in England) to work in the oil fields, where he also was boxer. They came to California in 1920 and started a family.

My grandfather and I were very close and it was he who made it possible for me to box. I might also ad that shortly before the depression in 1927, he went to work for Warner Bros. Studios which had just been built in Burbank. He did pretty well for an orphaned half breed Okie, becoming a legendary figure in the film industry, winning two academy award citations, and designing lighting for films such as "Casablanca", "Rebel Without A Cause", "The African Queen", "Who's Afraid Of Virginia Wolf", "The Great Race", "My Fair Lady", to name a few.

In 1967, I fought in the annual Jr. Golden Gloves tournament, and drew a boxer named Claude Durden in my first elimination bout. The bout was held at Hawaiian Gardens Teen Post and Frank Baltazar made the match. Durden was a powerful young kid who was knocking kids out left and right. Before the match, Durden's trainer Billy Mitchell came up to my grandfather in the dressing room and told him, "My boy Durden is gunna knock your boy out". My grandfather looked Mitchell in the eye and reached into his pocket for his wallet, answering "well, how much money you want to bet on your boy?" Mitchell, a guy with a bully nature just blinked and started to laugh, "I like you" he said, but it was good for him he didn't take my grandad up on his offer.

In the first bout of the 86-95 pound eliminations, I dropped Claude Durden flat on his back in the opening round with a right, then proceeded to easily win a three round decision thus advancing to the quarter finals. I was really proud of what my grandfather did and, needless to say, he was kinda proud of me that night. And just for the record, a few months later we fought in a rematch at a hod carrier's Union Hall in Santa Ana. Once again, I easily decisioned Claude Durden, Hey Frank, do you remember that?

-Rick

Rick, that was a great little story and it really touched me. You seem to appreciate and realize what a gift it was to have had your grandfather in your life. One of my life's biggest regrets, or perhaps sorrow would be a better word, is that I never knew my paternal grandfather, Santiago De La O. I was a year old when he passed away in 1955. He was 69. I have heard so many stories about him while I was growing up, that I almost felt like I knew him, almost but still, it wasn't the same as really knowing him. He was a scrapper though from all I've heard. My grandfather, who was an alcoholic, worked on the rail roads, he would get his paychecks, and head for the saloons, in Las Cruces, New Mexico, drink until the roosters came home and then he would walk home.

One day, as he was walking down the street, two men, were waiting in an alley, they grabbed him at knife point, intending to kill him and rob him. It cost them their lives. He owned a stiletto and knew how to use it. He slit both their throats and left them in the alley. He was hard. But from all I've heard he was also a kind and generous man.

My mother's father, Auggie, died just before I left for the Navy Boot camp, in 1972. I only saw him about three or four times in my life. he was a traveling man. He would jump the trains, or hitchhike across the country, live somewhere for few years, live with a woman, and move on. He was also an alcoholic. He died in jail cell in Los Angeles. He was found beaten to death. my mother took it hard.

My own father passed at the age of 57 in 1981, my oldest daughter was two weeks shy of three. My other kids never knew him. I try to make up for it by being the best grandfather I can to my own grandkids. My only grandson Nathan passed away in 2001. I didn't mean to go on and on, it's just that your story about your grandfather just kind of hit home.

Randy[/quote]

[Randyman]

I'm not sure why that last post popped up twice.

[kikibalt]

[kikibalt]

Charley Riley vs Raul Campos...1949

[kikibalt]

[dagosd2000]

Bat Battalino
Circa 1932

Two fighters died after bouts with Battalino.

i thought one of you guys would catch my mistake. It was Bud Taylor who killed two fighters in the ring.

[kikibalt]

Bat Battalino
Circa 1932

Two fighters died after bouts with Battalino.

i thought one of you guys would catch my mistake. It was Bud Taylor who killed two fighters in the ring.

Ain't nobody here old enough to know...