Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

BTW
I have a cataract in my right eye. Can't hardly see anything. Have a rough time on the computer. Went to the large type. Will get the eye operated on. Here's squintin' at you. Roger :geek2:

[kikibalt]

BTW
I have a cataract in my right eye. Can't hardly see anything. Have a rough time on the computer. Went to the large type. Will get the eye operated on. Here's squintin' at you. Roger :geek2:

Hey Rog, I got one on the same eye, I take my glasses off and I tell Connie, "Hey Babe, without my glasses and now a cataract, damn! you look 40 years younger" can you believe she called me an asshole when I told her that....

[dagosd2000]

BTW
I have a cataract in my right eye. Can't hardly see anything. Have a rough time on the computer. Went to the large type. Will get the eye operated on. Here's squintin' at you. Roger :geek2:

Hey Rog, I got one on the same eye, I take my glasses off and I tell Connie, "Hey Babe, without my glasses and now a cataract, damn! you look 40 years younger" can you believe she called me an asshole when I told her that....

Frank
What's the old saying? Out of sight,out of mind.

[raylawpc]

The Harder They Fall: Sunset's Boxing Journal
By Sunset Thomas
RSR

When Oscar De la Hoya decided not to answer the bell at the start of the 8th Round at the MGM on Saturday night, I actually started to cry. Frankie Gambino (my enigmatic apparition of an associate) on the other hand, literally spit his disgust, “That would have never happened in my day!” he roared.

If you don’t already know, Frankie Gambino fought once—in 1943—in the Golden Age of Boxing (not to be confused with the Golden Boy of Boxing—as he is quick to point out).

Anyways, Frankie was pissed. “Who doesn’t get up and fight?” he ranted. “He still had one good eye and honestly he never looked hurt—maybe his pride but not his body. Why in my day, your corner would toss in the towel and if you could find it and lift it, you’d toss it back…”

I tried to reason. “Frankie,” I said, “Oscar couldn’t hit him. There were only four rounds left and Oscar had nothing left…”

“Nothing left!” Frankie fumed. “If he had anything he left it in his scrapbook! That guy never threw a meaningful punch. He never committed himself to take the punches that little Filipino fellow peppered him with. It’s one thing to get beat, it’s another to lie down and take a whooping. If I’da bet the bum I’d be knocking on his door trying to get my money back!”

There was nothing I could say. Frankie wasn’t buying it. He simply felt that Oscar fought without heart. He thought Manny Pacquiao was a tough, clever fighter—not a ton of power but plenty of zip. And he felt (strongly) that Oscar, like so many fighters before him, had overstayed his welcome in the squared circle…

“Rocky Marciano,” he roared.
“Lennox Lewis,” I added.
“Who names a kid after a hospital,” he cracked.
“Who names a kid after a mineral?” I countered.

The point of our little Tete-e-tete was, of course, that fighters sadly and sometimes tragically don’t get out when they should.

Often times it’s because of poor financial management (obviously not the case with De la Hoya), but more often than not it’s a case of ego—of the warrior not heeding Frank Sinatra’s warning that “…and now the days grow short, I’m in the Autumn of the year…”

Oscar, though he looked okay against Steve Forbes (whom Frankie Gambino called ‘nothing but a so-so sparring partner’), had nothing. No zip. No zig. No zag. Nada! When he didn’t gain anything but a lousy two pounds the day of the fight (while Pac-man packed on nearly seven), you had to feel something was amiss.

Frankie said he knew it was over right then. He asked me if I remembered when Arturo Gatti retired Joey Gamache in Madison Square Garden. How both had weighed-in at the 140 limit but how Gatti came into the ring closer to 160. And how Gatti almost killed the kid.

Frankie said it was unnatural for De la Hoya to gain so little weight and that it proved his body was messed up and the first round proved his heart wasn’t in it—the heart part is what pissed off Frankie the most.

I cried because I think it’s sad when it’s over. Like when the little boy’s dad had to shoot Old Yeller at the end of the movie, or more recently, when I found out my idol Bettie Page had fallen into a coma. See I think it’s sad. Even though you know it’s coming, like a straight right after the Ali-Shuffle and there isn’t a dang thing you can do about it. Even though that T.S. Eliot fella poignantly pontificated about how life doesn’t end with a bang, but a whimper—you just, call it sentimental or just plum stupid, but you just can’t bring yourself to accept the reality…

So I cried.

Unlike Frankie Gambino, however, I wasn’t so sure of the outcome until the Fourth Round. I gave Pac Man the first two—decisively. But when the Third rolled around Oscar finally seemed to loosen up a little and throw his jab. He seemed to have settled down some—finding a rhythm and then came the Fourth!

By this time Frankie was wondering how to spend his winnings. He’d picked Pacquiao (in fact he was so damn cocksure he predicated a 2nd Round K.O.), but me, I was silently hoping that Oscar had a plan—he didn’t.

By the end of the fourth, Oscar was back to being a sluggish and slow, plodding pug, with absolutely no punch! And even though the Fifth Round was perhaps the Golden Boys best, it still wasn’t enough for me to give it to him. In fact, I gave Pac Man each and every round.

After Oscar quit on his stool—and he did quit, I mean he never officially said ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to his corners question about stopping the fight (in fact, they asked if he wanted to go one more—and his taking the 5th sealed his fate).

That’s when Frankie Gambino said, “It’s déjà vu all over again” and the specter of Roberto Duran (a once fearless warrior equally known as the “No Mas Man”) permeated the proceedings…

Yep, it was a sad night. Sad to see the Lion go out like a lamb. “Sadder,” said Frankie, “to have paid fifty-four clams!” (the price of Pay-Per-View)…

Now Pac Man will fight Ricky Hatton and that’ll be a hoot. The Filipino’s and the Brits will turn the MGM into a flag-waving, barn-burner of a battle. However, judging from Hatton’s last two lackadaisical performances and his penchant for hitting every pub on the Strip—instead of Bangers, the Brit may get a taste of Bangus!

The other day I was making fun of Sunset Thomas saying she was parlaying her sex into this boxing gig. But after reading this,she writes pretty damn good. If you didn't know any better you'd think it was some old time sports beat writer who smoked cigars and drank warm whiskey. Maybe Sunset does those things. All I know is that was a pretty damn good story.

You are right - that's a great story. I wish I could write like that.

I haven't followed the fight too much (well - not at all actually - all I know is the result and that Oscar looked bad) because it happened right when I got back from NZ, and I slept all weekend - bad jet lag. But is that true that Oscar didn't gain weight after the weigh-in? How do they know? Did he weigh in his dressing room before the fight?

If so, that tells me something was seriously wrong with Oscar. Did he overtrain? Was he taking a weight loss drug? Even in the old days - when a fighter weighed in the day of the fight - he would put back on a few pounds between the weigh-in and the fight, and Oscar had more than 24-hours to bulk back up.

Does anyone know the story on that?

[kikibalt]

BTW
I have a cataract in my right eye. Can't hardly see anything. Have a rough time on the computer. Went to the large type. Will get the eye operated on. Here's squintin' at you. Roger :geek2:

Hey Rog, I got one on the same eye, I take my glasses off and I tell Connie, "Hey Babe, without my glasses and now a cataract, damn! you look 40 years younger" can you believe she called me an asshole when I told her that....

Frank
What's the old saying? Out of sight,out of mind.

Thats the one, Diego....

[raylawpc]

BTW
I have a cataract in my right eye. Can't hardly see anything. Have a rough time on the computer. Went to the large type. Will get the eye operated on. Here's squintin' at you. Roger :geek2:

Hey Rog, I got one on the same eye, I take my glasses off and I tell Connie, "Hey Babe, without my glasses and now a cataract, damn! you look 40 years younger" can you believe she called me an asshole when I told her that....

I've seen pictures of Connie when she was 40 year younger. If I was you, I'd leave my glasses off all the time when she's around.

[kikibalt]

BTW
I have a cataract in my right eye. Can't hardly see anything. Have a rough time on the computer. Went to the large type. Will get the eye operated on. Here's squintin' at you. Roger :geek2:

Hey Rog, I got one on the same eye, I take my glasses off and I tell Connie, "Hey Babe, without my glasses and now a cataract, damn! you look 40 years younger" can you believe she called me an asshole when I told her that....

I've seen pictures of Connie when she was 40 year younger. If I was you, I'd leave my glasses off all the time when she's around.

Hey, I never thought about that, that a good idea.....

[kikibalt]

Tom, Connie, 40 years younger.


Thats the way she looks to me when I take my glasses off....

[raylawpc]

Tom, Connie, 40 years younger.


Thats the way she looks to me when I take my glasses off....

You definitely need to lose the glasses.

[dagosd2000]

SWINGING DOORS

Back in the time when Revolution Street was catering to the Americans after dark,the Coahuila was there for the Mexican men. But towards the end of the decade Tijuana wanted to change its image on Revolution. Bring in the tourists who wanted no part of cantinas. Upscale the street with nice shops and boutiques. Posh resaurants. It worked for a while,but the economy in Mexico went sour. The tourists opted for the beach resorts like Can Cun and Mazatlan. Revolution Street died a unoticed death.

The Coahuila stayed pretty much the same. No one wanted to change that place. Even on a map of Tijuana that area isn't even described. Just a bunch of lines that denote streets. No names. Just a bunch of lines. But go inside those lines and it was, and is, a real honky tonk . A Red light district that rivals any of the infamous.

When Revolution died down,I started to frequent the Coahuila. Not many Americans. Me? I was a teenager. That was kind of taboo. The Coahuila was for grown up Mexican men established with the cultural mode of the cantina. I flowed into it without any problem. In fact I liked the Coahuila better than Revolution. I spoke Spanish ,and the way they did things in the Coahuila was more my way.

American men rushed things too fast on Revolution Street. There weren't any Mexican men on Revolution. They went where everything was understood between people. A raunchy way of behaving that had been in place for a long time. American men were afraid to go there. No one spoke English. They got too drunk. They insulted the women.

On Sunday I'd plop my seat at the Burro. A long straight bar. The hand carved wooden mermaid on the wall. It was tequila for me. Sauza Hornitos with a water chaser. Didn't want a head the next morning. Just before the day turned dark Beatriz would walk in to start her night. I remember the swinging doors. When looking out to the street you couldn't see anyone's head,just the feet passing by uderneath the swinging doors. Boots,sandals,high heels,sometimes dirty bare feet. I'd sit at the bar slowly bringing myself to a dream. The guy would come in with the salted pumpkin seeds. My elbows on the bar. Looking at the reflection in the shot glass. The bar filling up . Street musicians walking inside pounding on the tambora.
"Musicos!!"
Sometimes they'd play if they could find a fixed customer. You could hear them playing in the street. Sometimes two bands playing at once. Playing a different song. A mariachi group and a nortena group at the same time. The glasses tinkling,the music,the cash register working,the conversations all mixed up was a fuel that fired the dream.

At six Beatriz would come to the Burro. I'd wait to see her ankles from under the swinging doors.The closer it got to six the faster my heart would pound.The porceline ankles. The white high heels. We'd sit at a table. She'd put money in the juke box. That's how I learned the songs. The Golden Era of Mexican music. Los Trios,Pedro Infante,Jose Alfredo. People would sing inside the Burro.

When the night captured the day,the music would change to dancing. Perez Prado. Mike Laure. Sonora Dinamita. I'd dance with Beatriz. Her blonde dyed hair. The funny overbite. The rouge. Skinny legs. Girating hips. She was always happy. Laughing at everything.

That all went away with me. It had to I guess. Not too long ago I went back to the Burro.I ordered a club soda. I sat at the bar looking under the swinging doors.

[kikibalt]

De La Hoya-Pacquiao fight drew fewer than expected pay TV viewers

By Lance Pugmire
LATimes

Because of the economic downturn, Oscar De La Hoya's fight against Manny Pacquiao on Saturday did not reach anywhere near the financial success of his 2007 cash bonanza against Floyd Mayweather Jr.

Promoters had aimed for 1.5 million pay-per-view buys for De La Hoya-Pacquiao, but HBO announced today that the fight drew 1.25 million pay-per-view buys and $70 million in revenue. The live gate for the fight in Las Vegas was better than $17 million.

The lopsided Pacquiao victory -- De La Hoya retired before the ninth round started and may retire from boxing -- still stands as the third bestselling non-heavyweight pay-per-view bout in history, better than Mayweather-Ricky Hatton in December 2007 and De La Hoya-Shane Mosley in 2003.

Only De La Hoya-Mayweather (2.4 million pay-per-view buys) and De La Hoya-Felix Trinidad (1.4 million buys in 1999) topped Saturday's bout among non-heavyweight fights and only one other De La Hoya fight (versus Bernard Hopkins in 2006) met or exceeded 1 million buys.

"It was our hope that the fight would generate one million buys, but in this economy, it was only a hope, not our belief," HBO pay-per-view executive Mark Taffet said.

"This number could still go as far north as 1.5 million when all the numbers are counted," Pacquiao promoter Bob Arum said. "I'm elated, because in this economy, we knew anything could happen. It could've been a disaster, but it turned into a great achievement, for Oscar, for Manny, for everybody."

Arum said in a Tuesday interview that he would have "broke even" at 600,000 pay-per-view buys.

De La Hoya was guaranteed $20 million for the fight, and Pacquiao and his promotion company were guaranteed $11 million. The pot of profits will be divided up in a 68%-32% split favoring De La Hoya, and Arum said Pacquiao may receive an additional $3.5 million to $5 million as a result.

"The pay-per-view business is no different than the automobile business, the hotel industry, the gaming business or advertising revenue at your newspaper. Pick any industry, they're all down," said Richard Schaefer, De La Hoya's promotion company business partner. "Considering how everything has dropped like crazy, I'm thrilled."

HBO will replay the Pacquiao-De La Hoya fight on Saturday at 1:45 p.m. Pacific time as part of its coverage of the heavyweight title fight between Wladimir Klitschko and Hasim Rahman.

Pugmire is a Times staff writer.

[Rick Farris]

On Alfredo Escobar (the original from the 40s) shown in the above Knockout ad:

It is almost impossible to think of olden days without remembeing this kid, an awkward sort without much ring finesse who was somehow matched against several of the top lightweights of his time in southern Californa. He not only fought them all desperately, violently, but he was asked to take them on multiple times, as his record shows.

One series stands out in my mind, his incredible wars with Fabela Chavez. One of their blood and guts fights at the Legion Stadium ended with Fabelita being carted off to a local hospital for medical observation. That one happened in May of 1947. I still think that his highly spirited wars with Escobar and Bobby Jackson were reasons for Fabela's failure to reach the highest rung in his division ladder.
Alfredo Escobar was the personification of the "club fighter", a give an take guy who competed with the best among his peers.

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Hap . . . Weren't the Escobar brothers managed at one time by Frank Sinatra? I know Ralph Gambina worked as a trainer for Sinatra's boxers. Maybe I'm thinking of somebody else? In addition to Alfredo there was Andy, how did they compare? Back in the mid 60's, a younger brother, Herman, had several fights at the Olympic. I remember seeing him on the TV cards long after his older brothers had retired. Nothing special.

-Rick

[kikibalt]

Johnny Bratton vs Livio Minelli
Philadelphia, January 5, 1948

[kikibalt]

Frank Bruno with sparring partners, Hurricane Hadley & Elijah Tillery
February 27, 1987

[kikibalt]

Frank Bruno & "Laughing" Larry Frazier
December 4, 1985, Wembley, London

[kikibalt]

[bennie]

Frank Bruno & "Laughing" Larry Frazier
December 4, 1985, Wembley, London

In the background there is Frank Black, a well-known and well-liked British cornerman who passed away on Sunday from a heart attack. Frank had worked a corner the previous night.

[Rick Farris]

HELLO,GOOD BYE

I've been kicking this around for a while. Prior to the WBHOF Banquet,Rick had posted a couple of times that Gwen Adair wanted to meet me. OK,I never asked why. I knew I had posted something earlier how I thought Gwen looked like a good 'ol gal. A pal. A female who could hang with the guys and still keep her femininity. A gal you could have a good time with as long as you knew your boundaries. I think you get my point.

Well that weekend Dan pointed her out to me. OK,I know I'm with my wife,but that don't mean nothin'. Don't get me wrong. Everything was above board in my mind. (You can always dream though).I saw her as she checked in. I saw her at breakfast. Nothing. I thought really nothing of it. Then after the banquet,we're all sitting in the lounge having a cocktail when Rick brings Gwen over to our table.
"Gwen wants to know who Roger is".says Rick.
I give a little wave.
"Hi Gwen. Would you like to join us?"I posed the question.
"She looked at me with a smile.
"No thanks,I'm with friends."
With that,she turned and walked back to her friends' table.

OK,I'm all right with that.However, I'm still wondering why she wanted to know who I was?

I recall the moment Rog. I was wondering what that was all about myself. She was friendly enough and she stayed with us for a couple of minutes. I thought it a bit odd that she would ask that and then leave without any explanation. Of course when all else fails we can always just rely on the old stand by "Wimmen"!. I mean who can figure'em. My old man couldn't so who the hell am I to try and figure them out. A strange but very necessary species. Maybe she wants to be painted.

Randy DD

Gwen didn't know that Roger was an artist..

-Rick

[bennie]

Frank Bruno with sparring partners, Hurricane Hadley & Elijah Tillery
February 27, 1987

Frank wasted the 1980s on bum sparring partners, bum opponents (like Larry Frazier, who was absolutely pathetic) and thus bum showings in the big ones, although he did wobble a Tyson who was just past his peak in 1989. Not until the 1990s, when he had longer, harder fights, did Frank really progress.

[bennie]

HELLO,GOOD BYE

I've been kicking this around for a while. Prior to the WBHOF Banquet,Rick had posted a couple of times that Gwen Adair wanted to meet me. OK,I never asked why. I knew I had posted something earlier how I thought Gwen looked like a good 'ol gal. A pal. A female who could hang with the guys and still keep her femininity. A gal you could have a good time with as long as you knew your boundaries. I think you get my point.

Well that weekend Dan pointed her out to me. OK,I know I'm with my wife,but that don't mean nothin'. Don't get me wrong. Everything was above board in my mind. (You can always dream though).I saw her as she checked in. I saw her at breakfast. Nothing. I thought really nothing of it. Then after the banquet,we're all sitting in the lounge having a cocktail when Rick brings Gwen over to our table.
"Gwen wants to know who Roger is".says Rick.
I give a little wave.
"Hi Gwen. Would you like to join us?"I posed the question.
"She looked at me with a smile.
"No thanks,I'm with friends."
With that,she turned and walked back to her friends' table.

OK,I'm all right with that.However, I'm still wondering why she wanted to know who I was?

I recall the moment Rog. I was wondering what that was all about myself. She was friendly enough and she stayed with us for a couple of minutes. I thought it a bit odd that she would ask that and then leave without any explanation. Of course when all else fails we can always just rely on the old stand by "Wimmen"!. I mean who can figure'em. My old man couldn't so who the hell am I to try and figure them out. A strange but very necessary species. Maybe she wants to be painted.

Randy DD

Gwen didn't know that Roger was an artist..

-Rick

Gwen is playing hard to get.

[Rick Farris]

Frank Bruno with sparring partners, Hurricane Hadley & Elijah Tillery
February 27, 1987

Bruno benefitted from the demise of Mike Tyson. After a nine month layoff, dropping his original handlers, tied up with Don King, it took a less than well conditioned Tyson five rounds to dispose of Bruno. If focused, Mike should have taken Bruno out in less than a minute. He was made to order for Mike Tyson. Shows how far Mike had deteriorated after just nine months without Jacobs, Cayton and Rooney.

-Rick

[bennie]

Frank Bruno with sparring partners, Hurricane Hadley & Elijah Tillery
February 27, 1987

Bruno benefitted from the demise of Mike Tyson. After a nine month layoff, dropping his original handlers, tied up with Don King, it took a less than well conditioned Tyson five rounds to dispose of Bruno. If focused, Mike should have taken Bruno out in less than a minute. He was made to order for Mike Tyson. Shows how far Mike had deteriorated after just nine months without Jacobs, Cayton and Rooney.

-Rick

Bruno should have won. Tyson was already ripe for the taking but Frank did not believe in himself and stood off when he wobbled Tyson in the early moments. Our reserved, polite, ever so English commentator, Harry Carpenter, was forced to scream: "Get in there, Frank!"

[Dongee]

Friend Rick:

I am having trouble, as usual. posting intelligently here, so I hope this bit sees the light of day.

You are thinking of two Escobars, or more, that happened along many years later. My post on Alfredo Escobar refers to the original, a kid with a crab-llike ring style who fought his heart out each time he entered the ring back in the 1940s.

Frank Sinatra had befriended Ralph Gambina in the 50s and lent his name to some of the boys managed by Ralph, including Cisco Andrade. It was a common practice back then to have movie celebs lend their names to publicizing young fighters. Sinatra sorta sponsored Andy Escobar's kid brother Alfredo, but not Andy, who was always managed by a Redondo Beach policeman named Ed Connors.

When my daughter clues me as to how to retrieve a "saved" bit on manager Mike McNulty, I will try to post it for our guys on this thread.

take care

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[Dongee]

On manager Mike McNulty, shown above with heavyweight Gene Felton:

The man could have been the model for casting the old time, Big, gruff, hard as nails, no nonsense fight managers. Mike was a good buddy back in my day. He had an enomous resume as a fight man, having worked as a second, manager, promoter and commissioner during his prime time in Minnesota. He was a lifelong friend of old Tom Gibbons, who had become Sheriff in their home state. McNulty always carried a batch of letters written to him by Gibbons.

Without being asked to do so he presented me with an autographed photo of himself, probably because I found him and his deep knowledge of boxing lore most interesting. He was very proud of his young niece at the time, Dorothy McNulty, who after struggling to make it big in films, changed her name to Penny Singleton and portrayed Dagwood Bumstead's wife in the "Blondie" hit series.

Mike had a dozen yarns about the only champion he ever managed, bantamweight Johnny Ertle. He also guided the ring careers of Roger Bernard, Marty Simmons, Johnny Miler, among others, but lost out when he sold Mexican welterweight Nick Moran's contract to Gus Wilson for $1,000 just before Moran beat Bob Montgomery to break into the limelight.

While visiting me one morning as he stood outside my Legion office window, he suddenly became offended at a crude remark made by another manager who was with me. Without hesitation he challenged the much-younger guy to step outside and tangle asses with him. The culprit swallowed hard once or twice, shut his mouth and declined.

Mike McNulty, Willie "Gig" Rooney, Dolph Thomas, Harry Fine, Parnassus, and a band of "Pops" named Foster, Hubley, Burdick, and Nealis, formed the nucleus for years in the California fight game. Characters, one and all, bless them.

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[Dongee]

Friend Rick"

I finally posted an answer to your question about the Escobar brothers at the end of Page 470.

regards

hap navarro