).
Tom . . . It was at that very intersection that Jeffries wife was hit by an auto and killed as she crossed the intersection walking home from the barn to their home across the street. The CBHOF used to hold their banquet in Studio City, which is right next to Burbank. I could show you that inrersection as well as nearby ''Jeffries Ave.,' where I attended Jr. high school in the sixties. My grandfather used to see Jeff in Burbank occasionally. I was only two when he died. He had trouble dealing with the death of his wife and died shortly afterwards. There is also big old Victorian style homelocated in the Mt. Washington area of L.A. that Jeffries had bought for his parents when he was champ. The home recently was on the market. -Rickraylawpc wrote:The only indication that Jim Jeffries ever lived in the area is a street named "Jeffries" a few blocks south of Victory Blvd off Buena Vista. For years, the following metal plaque was encased in concrete in front of the Jeffries home at the corner of Victory Blvd and Buena Vista:
Yes, I have some news accounts of her accidental death. He had a great deal of trouble dealing with her death, but he actually lived another ten years or so. (I'll double check, but I think she died in '42 or '43. He died in '53.) Frieda, his wife, suffered from some form of mental illness later in her life. But Jeff was extremely devoted to her. She was a tiny little German lady - barely 5'1" - spoke with a German accent, and called him "Daddy."Rick Farris wrote:Tom . . . It was at that very intersection that Jeffries wife was hit by an auto and killed as she crossed the intersection walking home from the barn to their home across the street. The CBHOF used to hold their banquet in Studio City, which is right next to Burbank. I could show you that inrersection as well as nearby ''Jeffries Ave.,' where I attended Jr. high school in the sixties. My grandfather used to see Jeff in Burbank occasionally. I was only two when he died. He had trouble dealing with the death of his wife and died shortly afterwards. There is also big old Victorian style homelocated in the Mt. Washington area of L.A. that Jeffries had bought for his parents when he was champ. The home recently was on the market. -Rickraylawpc wrote:The only indication that Jim Jeffries ever lived in the area is a street named "Jeffries" a few blocks south of Victory Blvd off Buena Vista. For years, the following metal plaque was encased in concrete in front of the Jeffries home at the corner of Victory Blvd and Buena Vista:
raylawpc wrote:In all seriousness, I'd like to invite any of our friends on this California Forum to join Frank and me at my table. Hap, Rick, Randy, Bruce, bennie, diego, El Gato, chuck, ex pug (Gee, I hope I'm not forgetting somebody) . . . The more the merrier, I say.
BTW, diego, I think I'm gonna be in San Diego with my son in February for the big rugby tournament. Let's try to get together.
PARMESIAN CHEESEkikibalt wrote:For my friend Diego
Behind a strong mafia town in Italy are strong women
Marcello Paternostro / AFP/Getty Images
A funeral cortege in August 2007 for two of six Italians gunned down outside a pizzeria in Duisburg, Germany. Authorities called the shooting a revenge hit in an escalating ’Ndrangheta feud.
Many women in San Luca are mothers, wives and even accomplices of mobsters, but some are standing up to the powerful 'Ndrangheta and calling for peace.
By Tracy Wilkinson, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer
SAN LUCA, ITALY -- The hardened women of San Luca want you to know a thing or two about their notorious town. Not everyone belongs to the mob, they will tell you. And many who do are driven to it by poverty and neglect.
It's a tough sell, no doubt. San Luca, a remote hilltop town in southern Italy, is the ancestral home and principal headquarters of a criminal organization that has emerged as the country's most powerful and dangerous mafia, the 'Ndrangheta.
The women here have always had a complex role in the dynamics of an insular society that seems to exist at the margins of mainstream Italy. They are the mothers of the mobsters, their wives and, prosecutors say, often their accomplices. Fiercely protective of their brood, they can be as ruthless as their men. In the last year, it also appears that some San Luca women have served as a counterforce to the violence spiraling from internal feuds.
The Times recently was given a rare glimpse of the life of a San Luca family and the strong women who run it. Saveria Giorgi and her adult daughter, Teresa Giampaolo, insist that they are not part of the 'Ndrangheta (pronounced en-DRAHN-geh-tah), and their small home does not reflect any of the drug wealth typical of the hard-core mafiosi. Furniture is sparse and worn; there are no fancy appliances.
Yet, San Luca is a town of interconnected clans, and there is no one who cannot claim a mobster among his or her relatives. In virtually every family, someone has been imprisoned or killed.
"Journalists always speak badly of San Luca," Giorgi, a stocky, weathered woman in her 60s, told two visitors over a lunch of soft pasta and dried basil picked from the family's fields.
"Anything that happens, the blame ends up here," complained her daughter, Giampaolo.
San Luca, a town of about 4,500 people, is a jumbled collection of houses in various stages of construction scattered over several hills. It is surrounded by olive groves, cactus, pines and a trash dump. The main local job is a kind of minimum-wage forest ranger; that means real employment is elsewhere.
The women raise many children, plant and harvest the crops and guard their homes while the men are often away. Giorgi's husband, now retired, worked for years in factories in Germany; Giampaolo's husband is gone for long spells driving a truck all over Italy.
Mother and daughter railed against what they see as the national government's neglect of southern Italy, which deepens the region's poverty, unemployment and lack of opportunity. Calabria, the toe-of-the-boot region of Italy where San Luca is located, is the nation's poorest, on paper at least; the women complained that the only time they see an arm of the government it's in the form of police rounding up suspected gangsters.
"It is not fair," said Giampaolo, 34, a short woman with a quick laugh and a mane of black curls. "There are humble, respectful, generous people here. We'd like to see the presence here of the state, and not just the army."
As the women chatted, and Giorgi's husband poured beer for the guests, a television news report flashed on-screen, recounting the arrest a few hours earlier of Gianfranco Antonioli, an alleged gun broker for the 'Ndrangheta who had been on the lam for a year.
Smiles vanished. Conversation hushed. The family exchanged glances. Nothing more was said. When someone tried to raise again the topic of the 'Ndrangheta, lunch was abruptly over. It was time to move on. The women, who never uttered the word " 'Ndrangheta," were worried neighbors would overhear.
San Luca sits on the edge of the densely forested Aspromonte mountain range, a favorite spot of the 'Ndrangheta for hiding its kidnapping victims in the 1970s and '80s. The organization has existed in some form for more than a century, evolving as a protection racket after World War II and then graduating to drug trafficking a decade or so ago. The 'Ndrangheta developed a multibillion-dollar enterprise in the last few years when it took over cocaine routes from Latin America to Europe, the fastest-growing market for illicit narcotics.
This region is like few others. The minute a stranger enters San Luca, a kind of silent alarm is sounded. Outsiders will be followed, their movements tracked. The people have their own body language, not to mention their own actual language: All speak a Calabrian dialect. An Italian speaker unfamiliar with the dialect will grasp only parts of a conversation.
San Luca gained international notoriety last year when six Italians were gunned down outside a pizzeria in Duisburg, Germany. Authorities called it a revenge hit in an escalating 'Ndrangheta feud. Three of the dead, including a 16-year-old boy, were from San Luca, and the others from nearby Calabrian towns.
The killings -- the most public evidence to date of the international reach of the 'Ndrangheta -- shocked Italians and unleashed fears of further violence. But more than a year later, no one else has been killed, and the credit, at least partially, goes to a woman.
Teresa Strangio is the mother of the slain teenager, and one of her brothers was killed in the same shooting. At a tense funeral for the Duisburg dead in San Luca in August 2007, instead of demanding revenge, as many mothers and wives had, Strangio insisted on forgiveness. It was a remarkable moment that broke a pattern and illustrated the singular influence of women in this society.
"She made a choice, she made it in the flesh, and other mothers followed her," said Father Giuseppe Strangio, the parish priest in San Luca.
Diego Trotta, a senior police investigator in Calabria who has led many operations against the 'Ndrangheta, thinks reprisals have only been delayed, not canceled. Any relative peace, he said, is thanks to scores of arrests in the last year. Trotta said the women of San Luca may have influence, but they do not really call the shots; they are more victims than movers of their circumstances.
In government wiretaps of alleged 'Ndrangheta telephone communications, mothers tell their sons when the coast is clear and it's safe to return to San Luca, according to court documents made available to The Times. In other calls, they calmly but obliquely discuss a pending operation, or can be heard weeping over the shooting death of one of their kin.
The women of San Luca are for the most part locked into a certain fate. They are married off to other families within the clans to seal the impervious unity of the 'Ndrangheta. Only in the last decade or so did San Luca families allow their daughters to go to high school.
"They are extraordinary women who have lived under great pressure for years," said Rosy Canale, a businesswoman and volunteer social worker in Calabria. "They know they are destined to suffer, even if it is in silence. They grow up sliding into this mentality."
Still, Canale said, the women are the engine of the family, and that gives them power. A mother can keep her children out of the mob; she can also give subtle approval to a hit or relay intelligence to the gangsters.
"Their power may not be recognized, but it's there," Canale said. "If a woman says no in a house, then 80% it will be no."
Though not from San Luca, Canale is trying to organize the town's women into a sewing collective to give them independence. She formed the San Luca Women's Movement and said about 300 have joined. For her efforts, her car was burned, she's been threatened and she's afraid to spend much time in San Luca, Canale said.
Giorgi and Giampaolo are members of the collective. Giorgi sits behind a giant loom and weaves flax, silk and broom into delicate place mats, table runners and linen towels, most of them given as gifts. It's a handicraft that has disappeared in most parts of Europe. Giorgi has harvested and hauled the raw materials for a generation, as her dark, calloused hands attest.
The women hope to eventually sell their work outside of San Luca as a way to project a better image of the place and earn a small income.
Giorgi was related to one of the people killed in Duisburg but said she managed to keep her five children away from the clutches of the mafia by showing them prison movies when they were young and warning that was where they would end up.
"And so, we are honest, even though it means we are poor and have very little," she said.
Her daughter nodded soberly.
"Yes," she said. "Here, when you are honest, you are nothing."
[email protected]
Will do, Roger. I look forward to meeting you.dagosd2000 wrote:raylawpc wrote:In all seriousness, I'd like to invite any of our friends on this California Forum to join Frank and me at my table. Hap, Rick, Randy, Bruce, bennie, diego, El Gato, chuck, ex pug (Gee, I hope I'm not forgetting somebody) . . . The more the merrier, I say.
BTW, diego, I think I'm gonna be in San Diego with my son in February for the big rugby tournament. Let's try to get together.
Sounds good Tom. That rugby tourney will be at Robb Field in Ocean Beach. One of my old hangouts. Beautifull spot. Let me know on the specifics. Roger
Hap, thanks for sharing that with us. Frank and I both knew Keeny Teran. I grew up with Keeny's nephew Mike Teran and have remained friends with him to this day. I remember Keeny well, of course it was after his career. He was not only a diamond in the rough but he is also one of boxing tragic stories, as far as unfulfilled talent goes and his life long battle with drugs. It is something that still haunts the family. It meant a lot to his family when he was inducted into the California Hall of Fame earlier this year and that was due to Frank. I had the privilege of sitting at the Keeny Teran table that night.kikibalt wrote:About a week ago I asked Hap Navarro to write something for me on the 1951 fight between Enrique Bolanos vs Eddie Chavez, the main, and Keeny Teran vs Gil Cadilli on the semi and he e-mail me this today, this boxing card sticks in my mind above all of the fight cards that I seen, I was there that nite to see Bolanos and Keeny, both were great fights.
Thanks Hap.
Kiki:
The Fight for Lives benefit show was a Hollywood Legion Stadium annual event looked forward to with great anticipation by the L.A. fans since 1943, when it had its very humble inception. The first two shows didn't have a 10-round feature bout, just three 3 eights and 3 fours. They were meant to be talent shows, not artistic galas.
But the people in charge of the promotion, a prestigious Sportsmen's Club, persisted in elevating the event to an annual feature, which they soon did in no uncertain manner.The beneficiary was always the same: all proceeds went to the City of Hope Children's Hospital located at Duarte, east of Los Angeles.
.In time it grew to become the outstanding benefit boxing show in the southland, rivaling in prestige, if not in magnitude, the famed Milk Fund Show held annually at Madison Square Garden, in New York. The Legion Stadium turned out to be the ideal venue for the evemt, as many of the program directors were established business men in the film city. Because of that sellouts on fight night presented no problem.
The Legion Post's association with the sponsors only ended when a rift developed between the Legion board and a local managers' guild. Rather than become involved in controversy, the FFL directprs chose to move crosstown to the Olympic Auditorium.
The last time the FFL ws held in Hollywood was on June 22, 1951 when Enrique Bolanos and Eddie Chavez
clashed in a rematch of their corking battle held at San Jose the previous March. Interestingly, despite the obvious caliber of the two main eventers, Bolanos and Chavez, plus the added distance of two rounds, it was generally believed by the mass that attended the show it was the six round semi-final that lured a capacity crowd to the club that night.
I had suggested to Matchmaker Cal Working that I thought we could match Keeny Teran with Gil Cadilli, six rounds, at 118 pounds. Cal sorta threw his hands up saying the fight could not be made because of Gil's manager, Johnny Forbes, who had also developed Keeny from his earliest days. Forbes was a stickler for weight limitations, and he figured we would ask Cadilli to trim down to flyweight for the match. I had envisioned th efight for so long that I tried not to be dissuaded, even if we had to pay them each more than scale. (Which we did)
In time, Johnny relented and I had them sign at 119 lbs. Forbes actually thought he had gained an added advantage for his boy because boxing contracts in those days allowed a leeway of "give or take a pound", so he figured his kid would come into the ring at 120, a decided weight edge over flyweight Keeny.
The rest is trivial history, of sourse, with one notable exception.......Cadilli actually weighed in at 118 lbs, one pound lighter than the contracted weight,
Some people have told me that the fight ws one of the greatest-paced matches over the six round distance, and I really believe that to be true. The fight ebbed and flowed, but it was a closely contested match between two superbly conditioned youngsters on the threshold of main event stardom. And being a filght fan first, it will always stay in my mind. I could feel the respect the local fight mob, those who knew it was my baby, accorded me from that day forward.
For the record, Keeny Teran was a diamond in the rough. He had it all, if only fleetingly. You don't see wonders like that very often and I'm glad I had the privilege of making him Flyweight Champion of the United States.
hap navarro
YFrank . . . Great memory! I still have my two jackets. A blue one from '67 and a gold one from '68. I also have runner up trophy from '66 when I was in the 76-85 pound weight class. No use posting photos of my jackets since they are identical to the two you posted, just the years are different. I used to think you hadn't made it until you had one of those jackets to wear to the fights. It was our equivalent to a Ring Magazine World Championship belt. -Rickkikibalt wrote:Rick, Look what I found, the boys Jr.Golden Gloves jackets]
Count me in too, I look forward to meeting "the gang" in person;Rick Farris wrote:Tom . . . count me in for the CBHOF next year. By the way, I grew up in Burbank where Jim Jeffries had his home and famous barn. That photo of Jeff on the farm with his cattle was actually taken in Burbank less than a mile from where I lived as a kid. However, it wasn't country land, it was and is a thriving media/studio center. That's what it looked like when my mother was growing up. -Rickraylawpc wrote:In all seriousness, I'd like to invite any of our friends on this California Forum to join Frank and me at my table. Hap, Rick, Randy, Bruce, bennie, diego, El Gato, chuck, ex pug (Gee, I hope I'm not forgetting somebody) . . . The more the merrier, I say. BTW, diego, I think I'm gonna be in San Diego with my son in February for the big rugby tournament. Let's try to get together.
The big man must have truly loved Frieda. In the midst of life...raylawpc wrote:Yes, I have some news accounts of her accidental death. He had a great deal of trouble dealing with her death, but he actually lived another ten years or so. (I'll double check, but I think she died in '42 or '43. He died in '53.) Frieda, his wife, suffered from some form of mental illness later in her life. But Jeff was extremely devoted to her. She was a tiny little German lady - barely 5'1" - spoke with a German accent, and called him "Daddy."Rick Farris wrote:Tom . . . It was at that very intersection that Jeffries wife was hit by an auto and killed as she crossed the intersection walking home from the barn to their home across the street. The CBHOF used to hold their banquet in Studio City, which is right next to Burbank. I could show you that inrersection as well as nearby ''Jeffries Ave.,' where I attended Jr. high school in the sixties. My grandfather used to see Jeff in Burbank occasionally. I was only two when he died. He had trouble dealing with the death of his wife and died shortly afterwards. There is also big old Victorian style homelocated in the Mt. Washington area of L.A. that Jeffries had bought for his parents when he was champ. The home recently was on the market. -Rickraylawpc wrote:The only indication that Jim Jeffries ever lived in the area is a street named "Jeffries" a few blocks south of Victory Blvd off Buena Vista. For years, the following metal plaque was encased in concrete in front of the Jeffries home at the corner of Victory Blvd and Buena Vista:
I've been to the intersection several times. A strip mall is now located on the lot on which his house sat. The lot on which the barn was located is now home to a supermarket.
I wasn't aware that Jeff's family homestead was still standing. I have photos of the house from the time that Jeff's dad built it, and when Jeff lived there growing up. Jeffries' biographies always describe his Dad as an "itinerant street preacher" - and that's correct as far as it goes. But he became an itinerant street preacher because he was so rich he didn't have to work. His "street" was the world. He traveled around the globe preaching the Gospel.
I double-checked; Frieda died in 1941.
You can almost smell the greed.kikibalt wrote:
Oscar De La Hoya & the Pac-man
Thanks Randy, some pics. of Keeny and Gil.Randyman wrote:Hap, thanks for sharing that with us. Frank and I both knew Keeny Teran. I grew up with Keeny's nephew Mike Teran and have remained friends with him to this day. I remember Keeny well, of course it was after his career. He was not only a diamond in the rough but he is also one of boxing tragic stories, as far as unfulfilled talent goes and his life long battle with drugs. It is something that still haunts the family. It meant a lot to his family when he was inducted into the California Hall of Fame earlier this year and that was due to Frank. I had the privilege of sitting at the Keeny Teran table that night.kikibalt wrote:About a week ago I asked Hap Navarro to write something for me on the 1951 fight between Enrique Bolanos vs Eddie Chavez, the main, and Keeny Teran vs Gil Cadilli on the semi and he e-mail me this today, this boxing card sticks in my mind above all of the fight cards that I seen, I was there that nite to see Bolanos and Keeny, both were great fights.
Thanks Hap.
Kiki:
The Fight for Lives benefit show was a Hollywood Legion Stadium annual event looked forward to with great anticipation by the L.A. fans since 1943, when it had its very humble inception. The first two shows didn't have a 10-round feature bout, just three 3 eights and 3 fours. They were meant to be talent shows, not artistic galas.
But the people in charge of the promotion, a prestigious Sportsmen's Club, persisted in elevating the event to an annual feature, which they soon did in no uncertain manner.The beneficiary was always the same: all proceeds went to the City of Hope Children's Hospital located at Duarte, east of Los Angeles.
.In time it grew to become the outstanding benefit boxing show in the southland, rivaling in prestige, if not in magnitude, the famed Milk Fund Show held annually at Madison Square Garden, in New York. The Legion Stadium turned out to be the ideal venue for the evemt, as many of the program directors were established business men in the film city. Because of that sellouts on fight night presented no problem.
The Legion Post's association with the sponsors only ended when a rift developed between the Legion board and a local managers' guild. Rather than become involved in controversy, the FFL directprs chose to move crosstown to the Olympic Auditorium.
The last time the FFL ws held in Hollywood was on June 22, 1951 when Enrique Bolanos and Eddie Chavez
clashed in a rematch of their corking battle held at San Jose the previous March. Interestingly, despite the obvious caliber of the two main eventers, Bolanos and Chavez, plus the added distance of two rounds, it was generally believed by the mass that attended the show it was the six round semi-final that lured a capacity crowd to the club that night.
I had suggested to Matchmaker Cal Working that I thought we could match Keeny Teran with Gil Cadilli, six rounds, at 118 pounds. Cal sorta threw his hands up saying the fight could not be made because of Gil's manager, Johnny Forbes, who had also developed Keeny from his earliest days. Forbes was a stickler for weight limitations, and he figured we would ask Cadilli to trim down to flyweight for the match. I had envisioned th efight for so long that I tried not to be dissuaded, even if we had to pay them each more than scale. (Which we did)
In time, Johnny relented and I had them sign at 119 lbs. Forbes actually thought he had gained an added advantage for his boy because boxing contracts in those days allowed a leeway of "give or take a pound", so he figured his kid would come into the ring at 120, a decided weight edge over flyweight Keeny.
The rest is trivial history, of sourse, with one notable exception.......Cadilli actually weighed in at 118 lbs, one pound lighter than the contracted weight,
Some people have told me that the fight ws one of the greatest-paced matches over the six round distance, and I really believe that to be true. The fight ebbed and flowed, but it was a closely contested match between two superbly conditioned youngsters on the threshold of main event stardom. And being a filght fan first, it will always stay in my mind. I could feel the respect the local fight mob, those who knew it was my baby, accorded me from that day forward.
For the record, Keeny Teran was a diamond in the rough. He had it all, if only fleetingly. You don't see wonders like that very often and I'm glad I had the privilege of making him Flyweight Champion of the United States.
hap navarro
I also knew Gil Cadilli fairly well. As you know after his career was over he became a trainer at the Main Street Gym. That is where I met him. He was a good guy that really cared for his fighters.
Frank, I know Keeny is smiling down at you. No one has done more to keep his memory alive than you. As a friend of the Teran family, I thank you.
Randy
Without Mando, Stracey would never have been 'moved' to a shot at Napoles. It was Mando who essentially finished Napoles.kikibalt wrote:
Mando Muniz & wife Yolanda
Mando looks good considering all the wars he was in.
I once ran into a friendly cow while walking the dogs. Cows will always shy away if you get too close but this one stayed put and, I swear, was smiling at me. I patted it like a dog.raylawpc wrote:Jeff discovered a new use for cattle:
You're right Rick, until you won one of those jackets, you were just another jr. fighter, Frankie and Tony won their first jackets in 1964, I couldn't get them to take them off, I still remember Tony sleeping with his on on the night he won it, Frankie was already in school (K), he was so proud of his jacket when he would wear it to school and he gain some respect from his peers.Rick Farris wrote:YFrank . . . Great memory! I still have my two jackets. A blue one from '67 and a gold one from '68. I also have runner up trophy from '66 when I was in the 76-85 pound weight class. No use posting photos of my jackets since they are identical to the two you posted, just the years are different. I used to think you hadn't made it until you had one of those jackets to wear to the fights. It was our equivalent to a Ring Magazine World Championship belt. -Rickkikibalt wrote:Rick, Look what I found, the boys Jr.Golden Gloves jackets]
Thanks Hap, my friend, you're a walking encyclopaedia.....Dongee wrote:You are right, Kiki:
Funny thing, boxing shows were also staged (by Joe Louis) across the street from the Palladium, at Earl Carroll's Vanities Theater. Those were my old stamping grounds because the Legion Stadium is just three blocks north of the corner of El Centro and Sunset Blvd., where those two buildings stand. And Barney Ross ran a bar about a block west of Earl Carroll's, on the same side of the street.
I remember going to the Palladium to check out a new singer, Frank Sinatra, who was so hot that nobody was dancing. Instead everyone stood quietly at the bandstand, his date in front, with his arms around her waist and either rocked or swayed to the music. It was surprising to see that Frank had been scarred on the back of his neck by what looked like a bad burn. It was later reported as a memento of his birth, when forceps were allegedly used on him.
memories
hap navarro
Thanks Boxing, I had never seen that one.Boxingnut wrote:http://www.boxingnewsonline.net/BN08/detail.asp?id=582
Apologies if this has already been posted but I have only just noticed this anyway.
