Classic American West Coast Boxing

[bennie]

Julio Cesar Chavez vs Edwin Rosario

I was genuinely upset when Rosario died at an incredibly early age. It seemed Edwin never got over his wife leaving him and taking the kids.

[kikibalt]

"Secret Agent" was also big. It would televise in the U.S.A. on saturday nights, following "Gunsmoke" on CBS. Remember the theme song, "Secret Agent Man"? I think American Johnny Rivers recorded that early 60's hit. I would meet a man who directed a number of Secret Agent episodes, David Tomblin. When I asked David about it 1990, Tomblin just smiled and remembered, "we were all young then." David Tomblin and the actor became close friends. Tomblin passed in 2005. R.I.P. Patrick McGoohan.
-Rick Farris

Yes, I do remember "Secret Agent". Thanks for reminding me. That was another show that I used to watch. That song always sticks in my head whenever I hear it. I'll be humming or whistling that tune for the next few days.

Randy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6iaR3WO71j4
"Secret Agent Man"
Johnny Rivers

[kikibalt]

Johnny Rivers

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gvKKIfg7Sw
"Poor Side of Town"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2erJIWnL15Q
"Swayin To The Music"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ol9ZewsdLI
"Memphis"

[bennie]

McGoohan was brilliant in one of my favourite ever films. Here is a clip of McGoohan playing himself in the film: a big, menacing Irishman.

Don't miss it...

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=vUx3vj3lmT8

[kikibalt]

McGoohan was brilliant in one of my favourite ever films. Here is a clip of McGoohan playing himself in the film: a big, menacing Irishman.

Don't miss it...

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=vUx3vj3lmT8

Its great, Bennie, but they don't speak English....

[bennie]

McGoohan was brilliant in one of my favourite ever films. Here is a clip of McGoohan playing himself in the film: a big, menacing Irishman.

Don't miss it...

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=vUx3vj3lmT8

Its great, Bennie, but they don't speak English....

I don't have graphics on my computer, so I don't know.

[Randyman]

Randy, I think you may be confusing McGoohan with Patrick Macnee. McGoogan had a few major roles in Columbo, with his great friend Peter Falk, and might be best known in the States for his role as the unpleasant prison warder in Clint Eastwood's Escape from Alcatraz.

Bennie, you are absolutely right. I did confuse the two. I must have had Diana Rigg on my mind. Thanks for bringing that to my attention.

Randy

[bennie]

Randy, I think you may be confusing McGoohan with Patrick Macnee. McGoogan had a few major roles in Columbo, with his great friend Peter Falk, and might be best known in the States for his role as the unpleasant prison warder in Clint Eastwood's Escape from Alcatraz.

Bennie, you are absolutely right. I did confuse the two. I must have had Diana Rigg on my mind. Thanks for bringing that to my attention.

Randy

Aye, after Diana Rigg in that cat suit, who cares about the men.

[kikibalt]

Julio Cesar Chavez vs Sammy Fuentes

[kikibalt]

Julio Cesar Chavez vs Greg Haugen

[kikibalt]

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

Frankie Gambino was darn proud of me.

I was ringside, surrounded by such legends as Arthur Mercante, Mr. C – Cosell from Heaven and the one and only Mills Lane.

We were at the El Dorado Casino in Reno, Nevada. The UNR Wolfpack boxing team was hosting a big collegiate event and I was among the celebrities in attendance.

I was actually Mr. C’s arm candy and he was introducing me to everyone.
If you don’t know, Mr. C is the world’s preeminent Howard Cosell impersonator. He’s so recognized that the Ali Center invited him perform at their grand opening in Louisville, Kentucky, and “the Greatest” himself mugged for the cameras with Mr. C…

Of course, Frankie Gambino calls Cosell a “blowhard…a toupee-wearing trollop with absolutely no knowledge of the fight game.”

“He ain’t no Jimmy Cannon, Clem McCarthy, Nat Fleischer or even Bobby Sheridan,” he rants whenever Cosell’s name comes up…

On the other hand Frankie loves Mills and Arthur, to him they are stand-up fellas. Gentlemen who know the game of which they were so involved. They aren’t show-boaters or entertainers but the real deal. Frankie loves to talk about how the iconic image of Mercante standing over Muhammad Ali, waving off Joe Frazier after Smokin’ Joe dropped him with a vicious hook was actually shot by Frank Sinatra.

Frankie goes on to rave about Lane’s handling of the Tyson/Holyfield ear-eating debacle. How Mills warned Tyson, but let the fight go on, and then stopped it nobly once the chomping ex-champ turned cannibal for a second time.
Frankie Gambino calls Tyson, Oliver Twisted because going back for seconds got him in deep just like it did Dickens’s fictional character…

Yep, Frankie Gambino loves Mills Lane and Arthur Mercante and he was proud as heck to see me seated beside them even though Mr. C was thrown in the mix…

I love Reno. It’s so old-school Nevada. I’ve been told that Bugsy Siegel first went there to open the rackets but that the long-time families in residence gave him the heave-ho. Frankie Gambino likes Northern Nevada okay, it’s just that he’s still smarting about how they took Sinatra’s gaming license away when he owned the Cal/Neva Club back in the day.
Frankie’s never gotten over that.

Of course he’s equally critical of Vegas. He says that when the mob ran the place it had more class; it was more people friendly (unless, of course, you made enemies and then the desert became your ultimate destination)…

But I digress.

So I’m chatting with Mills Lane there at the El Dorado and he says, “Sunset, you’ve got to meet my boys, Terry and Tommy,” (and I’m thinking, what a cool dad—he’s trying to get his kids laid) but then he goes on to explain that his boys are taking over the reins of his company, Let’s Get It On Boxing. How they plan to kick-start boxing in the Biggest Little City in the World. And I’m all for that…

I call them the “Fast Lane Brothers” because they’ve hit the ground running. Not only have they promoted multiple bouts throughout Nevada as well as dabbling in some MMA events, but they’ve lined up the biggest bout Reno has seen since the Fight of the Century between Jack Johnson and Jim Jeffries!

I had to give Frankie Gambino a tranquilizer after he read my copy.

“There ain’t no bigger bout than that one toots,” he huffed. “Maybe Joe Louis/Max Schmeling but those contender kids ain’t in that league. Matter of fact, I just might pull some strings. Get reincarnated. And fight ‘em both—on the same card—myself!”

Oh that Frankie riles me so…

Of course I’m not comparing Jesse Brinkley and Joey Gilbert to Johnson and Jeffries—although there is a scary amount of J’s between the foursome! But, hey, whereas the original fight was an international sensation, this fight will be a regional sensation—the biggest boxing event in Northern Nevada in the 21st Century (Frankie, gives his blessing to that hyperbole).

Two local kids…two sluggers…two pugilists who starred in the first season of Sly Stallone’s and Ray Leonard’s Contender television show.

And they don’t like each other—there is venom.

When Johnson fought, there was plenty of venom too. The white establishment forced Jeffries out of retirement to silence Johnson—thus creating the first Great White Hope. Of course that didn’t work. In fact it took the Johnson/Mann battle of 1912 to get the belt off the gold-toothed title-holder! Frankie Gambino points out that it was a lot like when flag waving George Foreman was supposed to beat the black off Muhammad Ali in Zaire—that didn’t quite work out either!

Anyways, it’s kind of ironic that these two guys, who have no love for each other, will meet on Valentine’s Day.

So I’m telling Frankie that I’m planning on covering the bout. Maybe parley the stint into a couple of working days at the Wild Horse Ranch—share a little Valentine love with my fans.

Me, I’m thinking this bout is going to be a barnburner. Both of these kids love to mix it up. There will be tons of partisan pride on the line.

“Someone is going down,” I say…

Frankie takes a swig from his Peroni and says, “If anyone goes down, it’ll probably be you!”

The man infuriates me, but he’s so often right. Anyways, I dismiss his sexist disrespect and explain, “Going down for the count,” and he says, “Oh, you’re talking seconds not inches?”

I swear my Sicilian specter of a sidekick really pushes my buttons....

After many more beers and shots of Jameson (my personal favorite), Frankie finally agreed that the February 14th fight, while it may not rival that July 4th battle of 1910, still holds tons of cache with plenty at stake: Bragging rights and a cross-town type rivalry between Gilbert’s Reno (the city) and Brinkley’s Yerington (the rural community). This is a fight that just might A-Bomb the apathy that seems to have settled upon my neighbors to the north and Frankie Gambino is suddenly all agog about our upcoming road trip and a Saturday Night fight at the recently opened Event Center…

[Rick Farris]

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

Frankie Gambino was darn proud of me.

I was ringside, surrounded by such legends as Arthur Mercante, Mr. C – Cosell from Heaven and the one and only Mills Lane.

We were at the El Dorado Casino in Reno, Nevada. The UNR Wolfpack boxing team was hosting a big collegiate event and I was among the celebrities in attendance.

I was actually Mr. C’s arm candy and he was introducing me to everyone.
If you don’t know, Mr. C is the world’s preeminent Howard Cosell impersonator. He’s so recognized that the Ali Center invited him perform at their grand opening in Louisville, Kentucky, and “the Greatest” himself mugged for the cameras with Mr. C…

Of course, Frankie Gambino calls Cosell a “blowhard…a toupee-wearing trollop with absolutely no knowledge of the fight game.”

“He ain’t no Jimmy Cannon, Clem McCarthy, Nat Fleischer or even Bobby Sheridan,” he rants whenever Cosell’s name comes up…

On the other hand Frankie loves Mills and Arthur, to him they are stand-up fellas. Gentlemen who know the game of which they were so involved. They aren’t show-boaters or entertainers but the real deal. Frankie loves to talk about how the iconic image of Mercante standing over Muhammad Ali, waving off Joe Frazier after Smokin’ Joe dropped him with a vicious hook was actually shot by Frank Sinatra.

Frankie goes on to rave about Lane’s handling of the Tyson/Holyfield ear-eating debacle. How Mills warned Tyson, but let the fight go on, and then stopped it nobly once the chomping ex-champ turned cannibal for a second time.
Frankie Gambino calls Tyson, Oliver Twisted because going back for seconds got him in deep just like it did Dickens’s fictional character…

Yep, Frankie Gambino loves Mills Lane and Arthur Mercante and he was proud as heck to see me seated beside them even though Mr. C was thrown in the mix…

I love Reno. It’s so old-school Nevada. I’ve been told that Bugsy Siegel first went there to open the rackets but that the long-time families in residence gave him the heave-ho. Frankie Gambino likes Northern Nevada okay, it’s just that he’s still smarting about how they took Sinatra’s gaming license away when he owned the Cal/Neva Club back in the day.
Frankie’s never gotten over that.

Of course he’s equally critical of Vegas. He says that when the mob ran the place it had more class; it was more people friendly (unless, of course, you made enemies and then the desert became your ultimate destination)…

But I digress.

So I’m chatting with Mills Lane there at the El Dorado and he says, “Sunset, you’ve got to meet my boys, Terry and Tommy,” (and I’m thinking, what a cool dad—he’s trying to get his kids laid) but then he goes on to explain that his boys are taking over the reins of his company, Let’s Get It On Boxing. How they plan to kick-start boxing in the Biggest Little City in the World. And I’m all for that…

I call them the “Fast Lane Brothers” because they’ve hit the ground running. Not only have they promoted multiple bouts throughout Nevada as well as dabbling in some MMA events, but they’ve lined up the biggest bout Reno has seen since the Fight of the Century between Jack Johnson and Jim Jeffries!

I had to give Frankie Gambino a tranquilizer after he read my copy.

“There ain’t no bigger bout than that one toots,” he huffed. “Maybe Joe Louis/Max Schmeling but those contender kids ain’t in that league. Matter of fact, I just might pull some strings. Get reincarnated. And fight ‘em both—on the same card—myself!”

Oh that Frankie riles me so…

Of course I’m not comparing Jesse Brinkley and Joey Gilbert to Johnson and Jeffries—although there is a scary amount of J’s between the foursome! But, hey, whereas the original fight was an international sensation, this fight will be a regional sensation—the biggest boxing event in Northern Nevada in the 21st Century (Frankie, gives his blessing to that hyperbole).

Two local kids…two sluggers…two pugilists who starred in the first season of Sly Stallone’s and Ray Leonard’s Contender television show.

And they don’t like each other—there is venom.

When Johnson fought, there was plenty of venom too. The white establishment forced Jeffries out of retirement to silence Johnson—thus creating the first Great White Hope. Of course that didn’t work. In fact it took the Johnson/Mann battle of 1912 to get the belt off the gold-toothed title-holder! Frankie Gambino points out that it was a lot like when flag waving George Foreman was supposed to beat the black off Muhammad Ali in Zaire—that didn’t quite work out either!

Anyways, it’s kind of ironic that these two guys, who have no love for each other, will meet on Valentine’s Day.

So I’m telling Frankie that I’m planning on covering the bout. Maybe parley the stint into a couple of working days at the Wild Horse Ranch—share a little Valentine love with my fans.

Me, I’m thinking this bout is going to be a barnburner. Both of these kids love to mix it up. There will be tons of partisan pride on the line.

“Someone is going down,” I say…

Frankie takes a swig from his Peroni and says, “If anyone goes down, it’ll probably be you!”

The man infuriates me, but he’s so often right. Anyways, I dismiss his sexist disrespect and explain, “Going down for the count,” and he says, “Oh, you’re talking seconds not inches?”

I swear my Sicilian specter of a sidekick really pushes my buttons....

After many more beers and shots of Jameson (my personal favorite), Frankie finally agreed that the February 14th fight, while it may not rival that July 4th battle of 1910, still holds tons of cache with plenty at stake: Bragging rights and a cross-town type rivalry between Gilbert’s Reno (the city) and Brinkley’s Yerington (the rural community). This is a fight that just might A-Bomb the apathy that seems to have settled upon my neighbors to the north and Frankie Gambino is suddenly all agog about our upcoming road trip and a Saturday Night fight at the recently opened Event Center…

Mr. C, the Cosell impersonator, was regretably hired as MC for a couple WBHOF events when Jimmy Lennon Sr. and Tom Kelly were unavailable. I'm going to put Tex Cobb up for induction in the WBHOF for the great favor he did for boxing. According to Howard Cosell, he quit calling fights for ABC after watching Cobb take a beating from Larry Holmes. Cobb's sacrifice did the world of boxing a favor by ridding the sport of an image that was nothing more than a straight man for Muhammed Ali. We in L.A. were spoiled with ringside guys like Dick Enberg, Mickey Davies, Tom Kelly and Jim Healy. These guys would report on a fight like they were sitting right in your living room with you. You felt a part of the conversation.

Hey Scar . . . remember the forgetable Mr. C. ???? Cosell was bad enough, his knock-off was unbearbale. The above story teams him with Mercante and Mills Lane. Must have been an evening of pure excitment.

-Rick

[scartissue]

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

Frankie Gambino was darn proud of me.

I was ringside, surrounded by such legends as Arthur Mercante, Mr. C – Cosell from Heaven and the one and only Mills Lane.

We were at the El Dorado Casino in Reno, Nevada. The UNR Wolfpack boxing team was hosting a big collegiate event and I was among the celebrities in attendance.

I was actually Mr. C’s arm candy and he was introducing me to everyone.
If you don’t know, Mr. C is the world’s preeminent Howard Cosell impersonator. He’s so recognized that the Ali Center invited him perform at their grand opening in Louisville, Kentucky, and “the Greatest” himself mugged for the cameras with Mr. C…

Of course, Frankie Gambino calls Cosell a “blowhard…a toupee-wearing trollop with absolutely no knowledge of the fight game.”

“He ain’t no Jimmy Cannon, Clem McCarthy, Nat Fleischer or even Bobby Sheridan,” he rants whenever Cosell’s name comes up…

On the other hand Frankie loves Mills and Arthur, to him they are stand-up fellas. Gentlemen who know the game of which they were so involved. They aren’t show-boaters or entertainers but the real deal. Frankie loves to talk about how the iconic image of Mercante standing over Muhammad Ali, waving off Joe Frazier after Smokin’ Joe dropped him with a vicious hook was actually shot by Frank Sinatra.

Frankie goes on to rave about Lane’s handling of the Tyson/Holyfield ear-eating debacle. How Mills warned Tyson, but let the fight go on, and then stopped it nobly once the chomping ex-champ turned cannibal for a second time.
Frankie Gambino calls Tyson, Oliver Twisted because going back for seconds got him in deep just like it did Dickens’s fictional character…

Yep, Frankie Gambino loves Mills Lane and Arthur Mercante and he was proud as heck to see me seated beside them even though Mr. C was thrown in the mix…

I love Reno. It’s so old-school Nevada. I’ve been told that Bugsy Siegel first went there to open the rackets but that the long-time families in residence gave him the heave-ho. Frankie Gambino likes Northern Nevada okay, it’s just that he’s still smarting about how they took Sinatra’s gaming license away when he owned the Cal/Neva Club back in the day.
Frankie’s never gotten over that.

Of course he’s equally critical of Vegas. He says that when the mob ran the place it had more class; it was more people friendly (unless, of course, you made enemies and then the desert became your ultimate destination)…

But I digress.

So I’m chatting with Mills Lane there at the El Dorado and he says, “Sunset, you’ve got to meet my boys, Terry and Tommy,” (and I’m thinking, what a cool dad—he’s trying to get his kids laid) but then he goes on to explain that his boys are taking over the reins of his company, Let’s Get It On Boxing. How they plan to kick-start boxing in the Biggest Little City in the World. And I’m all for that…

I call them the “Fast Lane Brothers” because they’ve hit the ground running. Not only have they promoted multiple bouts throughout Nevada as well as dabbling in some MMA events, but they’ve lined up the biggest bout Reno has seen since the Fight of the Century between Jack Johnson and Jim Jeffries!

I had to give Frankie Gambino a tranquilizer after he read my copy.

“There ain’t no bigger bout than that one toots,” he huffed. “Maybe Joe Louis/Max Schmeling but those contender kids ain’t in that league. Matter of fact, I just might pull some strings. Get reincarnated. And fight ‘em both—on the same card—myself!”

Oh that Frankie riles me so…

Of course I’m not comparing Jesse Brinkley and Joey Gilbert to Johnson and Jeffries—although there is a scary amount of J’s between the foursome! But, hey, whereas the original fight was an international sensation, this fight will be a regional sensation—the biggest boxing event in Northern Nevada in the 21st Century (Frankie, gives his blessing to that hyperbole).

Two local kids…two sluggers…two pugilists who starred in the first season of Sly Stallone’s and Ray Leonard’s Contender television show.

And they don’t like each other—there is venom.

When Johnson fought, there was plenty of venom too. The white establishment forced Jeffries out of retirement to silence Johnson—thus creating the first Great White Hope. Of course that didn’t work. In fact it took the Johnson/Mann battle of 1912 to get the belt off the gold-toothed title-holder! Frankie Gambino points out that it was a lot like when flag waving George Foreman was supposed to beat the black off Muhammad Ali in Zaire—that didn’t quite work out either!

Anyways, it’s kind of ironic that these two guys, who have no love for each other, will meet on Valentine’s Day.

So I’m telling Frankie that I’m planning on covering the bout. Maybe parley the stint into a couple of working days at the Wild Horse Ranch—share a little Valentine love with my fans.

Me, I’m thinking this bout is going to be a barnburner. Both of these kids love to mix it up. There will be tons of partisan pride on the line.

“Someone is going down,” I say…

Frankie takes a swig from his Peroni and says, “If anyone goes down, it’ll probably be you!”

The man infuriates me, but he’s so often right. Anyways, I dismiss his sexist disrespect and explain, “Going down for the count,” and he says, “Oh, you’re talking seconds not inches?”

I swear my Sicilian specter of a sidekick really pushes my buttons....

After many more beers and shots of Jameson (my personal favorite), Frankie finally agreed that the February 14th fight, while it may not rival that July 4th battle of 1910, still holds tons of cache with plenty at stake: Bragging rights and a cross-town type rivalry between Gilbert’s Reno (the city) and Brinkley’s Yerington (the rural community). This is a fight that just might A-Bomb the apathy that seems to have settled upon my neighbors to the north and Frankie Gambino is suddenly all agog about our upcoming road trip and a Saturday Night fight at the recently opened Event Center…

Mr. C, the Cosell impersonator, was regretably hired as MC for a couple WBHOF events when Jimmy Lennon Sr. and Tom Kelly were unavailable. I'm going to put Tex Cobb up for induction in the WBHOF for the great favor he did for boxing. According to Howard Cosell, he quit calling fights for ABC after watching Cobb take a beating from Larry Holmes. Cobb's sacrifice did the world of boxing a favor by ridding the sport of an image that was nothing more than a straight man for Muhammed Ali. We in L.A. were spoiled with ringside guys like Dick Enberg, Mickey Davies, Tom Kelly and Jim Healy. These guys would report on a fight like they were sitting right in your living room with you. You felt a part of the conversation.

Hey Scar . . . remember the forgetable Mr. C. ???? Cosell was bad enough, his knock-off was unbearbale. The above story teams him with Mercante and Mills Lane. Must have been an evening of pure excitment.

-Rick

Listening to that dude after 5 minutes was like having to listen to the same joke retold by the same dude. It may have been cute, but now it's lost it's lustre and it's getting old fast.

Scartissue

[kikibalt]

Arthur Mercante & Mr. C.

[kikibalt]

Julio Cesar Chavez vs Jose Luis Ramirez

[Rick Farris]

Arthur Mercante & Mr. C.

Never again!

[Rick Farris]

Arthur Mercante & Mr. C.

Hey Scar . . . In your conversations with Ruben Navarro, did you discuss Mercante as the ref in his 1971 Lightweight title fight with champ Ken Buchanan? Curious what Navarro has to say today, exactly 38 years (2/12/71) after the match. I was in Ruben's dressing room both before and after the fight. In the years since, I've thought a lot of that night, but not about the moment I listened as Mercante give Ruben some pre-fight instructions . . .Navarro sitting on a table, Johnny & Julio Flores behind him. I was off to the side with a commissioner and a couple others. Mercante is cold, formidable, stoic . . . talks to Navarro in robotic monotone. The ref is standing right in front of Ruben, hair combed to perfection, maybe some make-up? He stands at semi attention leaning forward, looking Navarro in the eyes, really making a show of it. He let the East L.A. boy know that HE was going to be boss in the ring, and to obey his commands.

I remember thinking to myself, "Navarro does what he wants, unorthodox or whatever, anything that scores and keeps him clean of unnecessary damage. Ruben will be his own boss and Buchanan better not let Ruben get on top of him or he's gunna slap the crap out of the Scot. Ken Buchanan was a greater fighter than he's credited for, but so was Ruben Navarro, and he was in no shape to challenge for a title. Still, he upended the Scot briefly, in the opening round, and made for a hard night for Buchanan.

-Rick Farris

[kikibalt]

Johnny Paychek: From Bellboy to the Garden
By Ted Sares

You don’t go into the ring with Joe Louis unless you’re tough. --Bob Pastor


Known as the “Corn Belt’s Pride” by his rabid fans, a tough looking guy by the name of John J. Paychek was making some noise in Des Moines, Iowa back in the late-thirties. In fact, in 1938, he chalked up 15 wins without a loss, including a TKO over the well-traveled Harris Krakow (Alias King Levinsky and 75-32-7 at the time) and the well-worn Charley Belanger, 96-50-2 coming in.

Paychek was working as a bellboy at the Hotel Chamberlain and sports writers began to wonder how this stylish Polish lad could run up a 15 (KO 11)-0 mark in just one year. Hell, where did he come from? Where did he learn his trade? Their inquires soon paid off. It turned out that one Johnny J. Pacek had been a tough amateur fighter in Chicago in the ‘30s. Though the exact date he turned pro is somewhat in question, I make it 1933 shortly after he won the Chicago Golden Gloves tournament. In short, he had an excellent boxing background and was well schooled to make some noise in the heartland..

Turning professional (and changing his name), he had early success both in Chicago and LA before inexplicitly making his home in, of all places, the Corn Belt city of Des Moines. When he first fought in Iowa on April 25, 1938, his record was a deceptive 10-3 with one loss coming by stoppage to Art Lasky at the storied Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. Fighting at 180 pounds, he was stopped due to a bad cut.

Speaking of cuts, the tall and balding Johnny (both of which made him look much older) was a slasher himself using a stiff jab to leave many of his opponents a bloody and bruised mess. As well, he was a busy and extremely accurate puncher fighting in the orthodox style. However, he lacked one-punch finishing power, though up until he fought Maurice Strickland in June 1939, it appeared he had a very solid chin.

Al Ettore and Maurice Strickland (1938)

After dispatching the hapless Steele in April 1938, Paychek began his run of wins that included eight more in 1939 and by the time he met Maurice Strickland on June 26, 1939, he had won 23 in a row including 19 stoppages. These wins came over some stiff opposition in the form of Red Bruce, Chicago cutie Art Oliver (thrice), and Al Ettore, 62-15-4 coming in. His second win over Oliver came by way of KO and raised eyebrows as Oliver was known for his granite chin. Ettore, though near the end of his long career, had wins over Gus Dorazio, John Henry Lewis, and an eight round KO of Jersey Joe Walcott. Incredibly, he also won a DQ from James J. Braddock in 1933 when the “Cinderella Man” was disqualified for “not trying.” The well trained Paychek stopped Al in six. As Sec Taylor reported in Ring Magazine’s June 1939 edition (page 25): “…Ettore, Nelson, Rugierello, and Wasser looked like some on had used a butcher’s cleaver on them…’

After icing Frank Rowsey and Willie Davis, Paychek’s chin was tested by Strickland and it failed the test as Johnny was decked in the fifth and the seventh. He avenged this decision defeat in August, however, by solving Strickland's stand-up style of fighting. During this time, he ran off nine bouts without a defeat including a KO over tough Pietro Georgi out of Buffalo.

Joe Louis (1940)

By the time Johnny was matched against the great Joe Louis on March 29, 1940 in Madison Square Garden, his record was an admirable 41-4-1 while The Brown Bomber was at 40-1. The Hawkeye state was hopeful it could brag about something other than corn. It was not to be.

Louis fought and beat Chilean Arturo Godoy seven weeks before fighting Pacek with less than satisfying results, but he would avenge that performance later. He seemed to take out his frustration by totally destroying Johnny in two cantos. He decked him for nine counts in the first before sending him to Corn Belt Dreamland in the second with a viciously economic, albeit typical Louis finish. It was frightening as the handlers needed to dump a bucket of water on Johnny’s head to revive him.

During this time, Mike Miley of the New York Post is given “credit” for calling this succession of less than compelling opponents the “Bum-of-the-Month Club, supposedly as a takeoff of a then recent phenomenon known as the Book of the Month Club. Of course, to do this, was a great show of disrespect. To quote Bob Pastor, “You don’t go into the ring with Joe Louis unless you’re tough.” Certainly, Miley, behind the safety of his typewriter, never would.

Post Louis

Returning to his roots three months after his loss to Louis, Paychek was KOd in the tenth stanza by Altus Allen at the Chicago Coliseum. Allen, no slouch, had gone 1-1-1 with Lee Oma and later would beat future Hall of Fame enshrinee Joey Maxim and then tough Joe “The Sergeant” Muscato. Paychek’s last bout came in 1941; a SD loss to limited Selman Martin after which he announced his retirement. His final slate was a fine 41 (KO 26)-7 (KO 3)-9.

Johnny passed away in 1988 at the age of 74. Prior to his death, he held several coaching jobs in Lyons Township near Chicago. While he never reached the top, he managed to do what others could only dream about; he earned a title bout at Madison Square Garden. Unfortunatelyfor him, it was against Joe Louis.

[dagosd2000]

QUE BARBARO

The first time he lost. The crowd knew it. The referee Berumen knew it. So did Sulieman. He gave the order to end it the way it did. And Mantequilla knew it. He was out of shape ,but he was in there with a hungry kid by the name of Armando Muniz.

Jose by that time did as little training as possible to get by. You'd see his genius. He'd win,but he wasn't pushin' it. Between the race track,his night club,his trumpet,and drinking late at night with Jose Alfredo,Jose Napoles had discarded the Spartan way of training.

However that night in Acapulco, that Muniz kid was kicking the shit out of him. He couldn't keep him off him. It was getting late and the Butter Man was melting. So Jose started swinging low. Figure Muniz would retaliate hitting below the border too,but Mando kept his cool. Do that and you lose on a DQ. So Sulieman sees his meal ticket waning and tells the ref to award Jose the winner on a foul anyway. It stunk. Even the aficanados knew it stunk.

They have to fight again. It's only fair. Right? This time the old master trains. He'll be in shape to catch him with hooks and uppercuts. His skill will determine victory. He'll train for this one. And the kid? He knows only one way. Put pressure on those old legs. But Mantequilla was his old self. It was the last time we'd see it.

I saw the rematch on the big screen in Tijuana at the auditorium. Jose looked fit. The definition showed. Mando pressed. Mantequilla used his craft expertly. Yes ,he was against the ropes,but he countered everything. After a few rounds began the blood.

Muniz knew the old man had him figured out this time around. He pressed like before hoping Jose would tire. They both fought for their lives. Napoles's eyes started to tear apart worse than ever,but so did Mando's. No DQ's tonight. Both guys were crimson. They were wearing their red badges of courage. It was all over the ring,the ringsiders,and we were bleeding with them. They were rocking each other. The announcer,the crowd,everyone watching the big screen was enthralled.
"Que barbaro!"
That was every other word from the mouths of the witnesses to this carnage.
"Que barbaro!"we were gasping.
Incredible. You want it to stop because you think one of them might get hurt seriously. Maybe die. But let it act out. Don't stop it. The conclusion must be seen. Painfull,but it must be seen to its conclusion.

The final bell. Both men standing impassively in the ring. Eyes shredded. Purple welts all over their bodies.Lips torn apart. Blood matted on their chests. Sweat and blood everywhere. To watch them after 15 rounds of attrition stand silently. The blood trickling down their faces. They seemed at peace.At peace after all they had given to each other.
"Que barbaro!"*

"que barbaro" means "wow" in Spaniosh.

[dagosd2000]

This painting that I'll leave untitled, has been selected to be exhibited at the San Diego Museum of Art.

[dagosd2000]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n6DT6RyOz38
Te Solte Rienda

Jose Alfredo Jimenez

[dagosd2000]

I had an exhibition in Jiquilpan a few years ago. It was well received. This kid comes up to me and says that I'm his favorite artist. That I'm his inspiration.

I asked him what he was holding in his hand. He said it was a landscape he had painted in his crafts class on Spanish tile. I took one look at it and fell over. The kid's name is Juanito. I asked him if I could take a picture of him with his painting. He asked my why. I told him I'm inspired by genius. I don't think it translated well.

[Rick Farris]

This painting that I'll leave untitled, has been selected to be exhibited at the San Diego Museum of Art.

Damn!

[Rick Farris]

QUE BARBARO

The first time he lost. The crowd knew it. The referee Berumen knew it. So did Sulieman. He gave the order to end it the way it did. And Mantequilla knew it. He was out of shape ,but he was in there with a hungry kid by the name of Armando Muniz.

Jose by that time did as little training as possible to get by. You'd see his genius. He'd win,but he wasn't pushin' it. Between the race track,his night club,his trumpet,and drinking late at night with Jose Alfredo,Jose Napoles had discarded the Spartan way of training.

However that night in Acapulco, that Muniz kid was kicking the shit out of him. He couldn't keep him off him. It was getting late and the Butter Man was melting. So Jose started swinging low. Figure Muniz would retaliate hitting below the border too,but Mando kept his cool. Do that and you lose on a DQ. So Sulieman sees his meal ticket waning and tells the ref to award Jose the winner on a foul anyway. It stunk. Even the aficanados knew it stunk.

They have to fight again. It's only fair. Right? This time the old master trains. He'll be in shape to catch him with hooks and uppercuts. His skill will determine victory. He'll train for this one. And the kid? He knows only one way. Put pressure on those old legs. But Mantequilla was his old self. It was the last time we'd see it.

I saw the rematch on the big screen in Tijuana at the auditorium. Jose looked fit. The definition showed. Mando pressed. Mantequilla used his craft expertly. Yes ,he was against the ropes,but he countered everything. After a few rounds began the blood.

Muniz knew the old man had him figured out this time around. He pressed like before hoping Jose would tire. They both fought for their lives. Napoles's eyes started to tear apart worse than ever,but so did Mando's. No DQ's tonight. Both guys were crimson. They were wearing their red badges of courage. It was all over the ring,the ringsiders,and we were bleeding with them. They were rocking each other. The announcer,the crowd,everyone watching the big screen was enthralled.
"Que barbaro!"
That was every other word from the mouths of the witnesses to this carnage.
"Que barbaro!"we were gasping.
Incredible. You want it to stop because you think one of them might get hurt seriously. Maybe die. But let it act out. Don't stop it. The conclusion must be seen. Painfull,but it must be seen to its conclusion.

The final bell. Both men standing impassively in the ring. Eyes shredded. Purple lumps on their faces.Lips torn apart. Blood matted on their chests. Sweat and blood everywhere. To watch them after 15 rounds of attrition stand silently. The blood trickling down their faces. They seemed at peace.At peace after all they had given to each other.
"Que barbaro!"*

"que barbaro" means "wow" in Spaniosh.

Roger . . . Armando Muniz will love this. He and I are supposed to talk by phone in the morning. I'll make sure he sees it.

-Rick Farris

Let me say again, excellent. Something must be done with this. These words need to accompany an image, maybe a photo of the fight that relects the text? This is a keeper, Roger. I think it should be posted in next years WBHOF program, along with the image of our new President. History and Art . . . hand in hand.

Gracias Rojelio

[scartissue]

Arthur Mercante & Mr. C.

Hey Scar . . . In your conversations with Ruben Navarro, did you discuss Mercante as the ref in his 1971 Lightweight title fight with champ Ken Buchanan? Curious what Navarro has to say today, exactly 38 years (2/12/71) after the match. I was in the dressing room with Navarro after the fight, and beforehand when Mercante gave him his instructions in the dressing room prior to the fight. I hadn't thought of that night in years . . .Navarro sitting on a table, Johnny & Julio Flores behind him. I was off to the side with a commissioner and a couple others. Mercante is cold, formidable, stoic . . . talks to Navarro in robotic monotone. The ref is standing right in fron of Ruben, hair combed to perfection, maybe some make-up? He stands at semi attention leaning forward, looking Navarro in the eyes, really making a show of it. He let the East L.A. boy know that he was going to be boss in the ring and to obey his commands.

I remember thinking to myself, "Navarro does what he wants, unorthodox or whatever, anything that scores and keeps him clean of unnecessary damage. Ruben will be his own boss and Buchanan better not let Ruben get on top of him or he's gunna slap the crap out of the Scot. Kenny was a greater fighter than credited for, but so was Ruben Navarro, and he was in no shape to challenge for a title. Still, he upended the Scot briefly, in the opening round, and made for a hard night for Buchanan.

-Rick Farris

Yeah, Rick, Ruben insisted that Mercante was Buchanan's Ref. He said Mercante began separating them and bending Ruben's arm in a manner that it wasn't supposed to bend. He said he told off Mercante in mid-ring. I wish I could see that fight. I actually have it but the version I have is so grainy it is worthless. Your opinion, Rick. Did the knockdown look legitimate?

Scartissue