Classic American West Coast Boxing

[THEHAMMER321]

Happy fathers day to all the fathers out there.

[Rick Farris]

Father’s Day

I love Father’s Day. It’s a time set aside for us dads to just sit back, enjoy a good meal with the family and reap the rewards for all our hard work. Makes me feel special. I’m lucky too because I have great kids. No, they’re not perfect and I don’t expect them to be but they’re good kids and they wake up everyday giving it their best shot. They work and take care of their own business. They make it easy for me to be a good father. My wife and I are proud of all of them, and of our grandkids too.

For some fathers it can be a bittersweet day. When I read the cards from a father’s perspective I can get emotional. As I read the words of the cards, or more importantly, the words that my kids write, I can’t help but think of my own father. We are both sons and fathers. We love our kids and we miss our dads. I might not always say anything but they know me well enough. So today I will celebrate Father’s Day with my kids and I will remember my father, Andrew De La O.



Men Like our Fathers

Tom Brokaw called the people of my father’s generation the “Greatest Generation”. I agree with him. The men and woman that grew up during the depression and then went on to fight WWII were a hardy and tough bunch. I didn’t know anything about that when I was growing up but looking back I can see how growing up during the depression and WWII era affected my father’s life and in turn, mine.

The men of his generation were old school and while it wasn’t their generation that birthed America, it was their generation that rebuilt it. They did it with hard work. Politicians and big business get the lion’s share of glory but it was men like my father, and yours, that put this country back on track. Getting up everyday, going to work, paying their bills, buying a home and car and creating more jobs in the process and raising their kids. They weren’t afraid to dispense out punishment if you screwed up.

I understand now why my father would keep me at the table till bedtime and make me finish what was on my plate. Or why when I left a room he would say “Turn off the light”. It wasn’t negotiable. My father was frugal and always had several $100.00 bills in his wallet. Just in case. They knew how to save. When something was wrong or broken at home he would find a way to fix it. It wasn’t always pretty but he always gave it his best shot. When there was something that he wanted to buy, he saved for it. He didn’t pile up the debt by using a credit card. That was for emergencies. The whole generation was that way.

With the exception of a few weeks in December of 1963, when he was hospitalized with pneumonia and was near death, my father never missed a day at work. It wouldn’t have occurred to him or men like him to wake up and say “Nice day today, I think I’ll call in sick and go to the beach”. You never heard one of them say “I’m stressing out” or “I have to find myself” They wouldn’t understand it. It would be a foreign concept to them.

My father could be hard man at times, it was his way, and he wasn’t perfect either but he was a man. He lived like a man. He had his rules and principles that he lived by and when he was right, and as far as he was concerned he was always right, he would stand his ground. He had his gentle side too. He wasn’t afraid to show his love to all of us; my mother, my sister and brother or to me.

My father’s word was his bond. He taught my brother and I how to shake a man’s hand. A firm grip and look’em straight in the eye. Let them know you mean business. These men were heroes to me and I’m not ashamed to say it. These are men worth emulating. Who is worthier of imitation than our own fathers?

My father in law, Henry Huizar ,was cut from the same cloth. He was older than my father but like my father he was a man’s man. Right or wrong neither one of them took any crap from anyone. When a man make’s his own way in life, why should he? Cross them and you were likely to find a hand on your throat or a fist in your face or worse.


I read this once though I can’t remember where. It has stayed with me and always will. The words describe how I feel.

“If I could be half the man my father was, I would be twice the man that I am.”


Lessons learned From a Father

My father spent his life teaching his kids how to live and how to survive. Sometimes we learned by listening to what he had to say, sometimes just by watching him. Often times it was the smallest things.

Some time around the mid 1960’s I went with my father to a friend of his, a mechanic, somewhere in Los Angeles to have some work done on his car. They were going to work on it together. Presumably, to save my father a few bucks. It was going to be an all day job so I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I found this house that had a huge pigeon coop, a large tower really, you couldn’t miss it. The owner of the house had just brought his lawnmower out to his front yard. I walked up to him and said “Hey, mister, would it be alright if I looked at your pigeons?” He took me to the back and I went inside the coop. It was huge. It was filled with Fantails, Tumblers and other show birds.

Suddenly I had an idea. “Hey, mister, I’ll cut your lawn for a pigeon.” “One pigeon?” he asked. “Sure”. So I cut his front lawn, emptied all the grass and cleaned and swept the sidewalk. “I’m done” I said “Can I have my pigeon?” Done? You’re not done yet you still have to cut the backyard. The backyard?” I said, almost choking on the words. “I was only going to cut the front lawn!” “well, you didn’t say, so if you want the pigeon you’ll have to cut the backyard too or forget about the pigeon”.

I went to the back and for the first time I realized just how big a yard it was. I was sorry I had said anything but a deal was a deal. To this day I don’t think I have ever mowed a lawn that big. I hope I never have to. When I was done he walked up to me and handed me a pigeon. “Here you go” he said. The bird was what we called a “commie”, short for common. It’s the pigeon you see under a freeway or an over pass. A rat with wings. “This isn’t the one I wanted” I said “I thought I could pick one myself”. He wasn’t going to budge. “You never said anything about that, take it and get out of here!”

I was gone a long time and I was sure my father was going to be pissed. I walked up to the garage where my father was and sure enough he was mad. “Where have you been? He asked. He looked at me and I was a mess, covered with, dirt, dust and sweat, with a pigeon in my hand. “What the hell were you doing? What‘s that?” I told him what had happened. I don’t know that I ever saw my father angrier. When he was done with the car he said to me “Show me the house!” I didn’t want to say anything but I wasn’t about to tell him no.

The man was still in the front yard when we pulled up. He was watering his lawn. He had a look of smug satisfaction on his face and I think that really ticked my father off. The man saw us and he recognized me but he continued to water his lawn. “Wait here!“ my father said to me. He got out of the car and pigeon in hand, made a beeline to the man. My father had a certain way of walking when he was mad. There was no mistaking his anger. The man saw this, dropped the hose and started backing up. My father let him have it. He stopped short of hitting him. My father let go of the bird and I saw the man pull out his wallet and give my father something. My father got back into the car and handed me the ten dollars the man had given him. “Here’s your pay” He said. “”Next time use your head a little”. Lesson learned.

In 1973, when gas was about 35 cents a gallon and a guy could fill up his tank with a few bucks I pulled into the 76 gas station on the corner of Rosemead and Washington Blvds, in Pico Rivera. I only had a few bucks on me. The gas station attendant, a young kid, came up to the window and asked me ”How much?” This was before all the self service gas stations popped up. I said” Two bucks” he put the gas in and came back and said “That’ll be three bucks”. “Three bucks“, I said “I only asked for two!” “Oh, I thought you said three”. He seemed more embarrassed than anything else. “I’m only paying two bucks, that’s all I asked for”

When I got home I saw my father and said “Hey, I got an extra buck’s worth of gas right now” I told him what had happened. I was feeling so good about scoring some extra gas but the look on my father’s face told me that maybe it wasn’t so good. I should have kept my mouth shut. “You stiffed him?” he asked me. “They‘re going to take it out of his pay!” he said. “Well, I only asked for two bucks”.

I went to my room for a while and when I came out later I asked my mom “Hey Mom, where’s dad? “He went to the gas station to pay for the gas that you should have paid for!” She said. ”Her tone of voice said it all. He’s paying for my gas? I only asked for two bucks worth!” I kept insisting. I was feeling lousier by the second. She just shook her head and walked away. I felt myself shrinking away in shame. My father never said a word to me about it and I never brought it up. Lesson learned.

My father was an upholsterer at Landmark Fine Furniture in Los Angeles. He was one of the best in the trade. When things were slow at work he would find customers and do some upholstery work in the garage. He was always working. Once, he was doing a job for some woman in Palm Springs. It was a big job, a sectional, and it turned out to be a lot of work and to top it off my father had misquoted her on the price. He was going to break even and nothing more. My mother kept after him, as any wife would, to call her up and tell her he made a mistake. He wouldn’t hear of it. He had given his word and that was that. He completed the job and the woman was happy with her furniture. My father didn’t skimp on the job. He still gave her his best. Lesson learned.

Sometimes we inadvertently learn a lesson from our fathers. Case in point. It was about 1967 or so and we were on vacation. I can’t remember if we were in Palm Springs or Arizona. We were at a motel. My mother and my brother Dennis and I went to the pool. My mother didn’t swim so she was lying on a chaise lounge soaking up the sun. My brother was three, maybe four years old, so I took him to the kids pool. My father stayed in the room and as always he was either listening to the L.A. Dodgers on the radio or watching them on the TV. There was no pulling him away from a ballgame.

At some point my father came out of the room to get some ice. As he was getting the ice, some woman in a skimpy white bikini came to get some ice too. My father couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Who could blame him? My mother was watching him from the other side of the pool. My father got his ice but never took his eyes off this woman. He walked straight ahead, all the time just watching her.

We saw it coming but it happened so fast there was no stopping it. My father fully clothed and wearing a hat walked straight into the kids pool. From the other side off the pool you could hear my mother laughing with pure joy. The whole place was laughing including the girl in the white bikini. My father shot straight up out of the water in complete shock, holding an ice bucket filled with water and then he just burst out laughing. He was a sight. He was a good sport about it. Several lesson learned here.

Nothing pleases a father more than knowing you were listening to him, paying attention to what he was trying to teach., even the most trivial and mundane things. When I was growing up it was my job to pull the weeds and take care of the yard. My father’s pet peeve was the dirt being left on the roots of the weeds. By the time the trash can was filled it would weigh a ton. He wanted the roots shaken so the dirt would fall off. I rarely shook them.

Years later, in 1978, when Jeri and I moved into our first home in Uptown Whittier on Newlin Avenue, I was working in the yard, pulling weeds of all things. My father stopped by for a visit. We were talking while I was working. I was pulling the weeds, shaking the dirt off and then tossing them into the trash can. “So you were paying attention” He said. I looked up at him and he was smiling. We locked eyes for a few seconds. I smiled back and then continued to pull the weeds. The moment was not lost on me. I learned a hell of a lot more than just the proper way to pull weeds from my father over the years but that moment is locked in my mind. It was symbolic, perhaps, of a son who had learned a few things from his dad.

Happy Father’s Day to all my pals here on 'West Cost Boxing".

Happy Fathers Day to you, Randy, and to all our CAWCB amigos. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Jeri next week, as well as Frank and family, Tom, etc.
For me, receiving this award is an honor, however, getting together with great friends is what makes it special. It's like we've all come home for a reunion. Randy, we grew up with these guys, and when you add posters from our great thread, it feels like a family event. Don Fraser and Frank put together a nice event each year. Nobody does it better on the West Coast.
Enjoy your Father's Day guys!

[Rick Farris]

Showtimes Super middleweight tournament was on tonight, Andre Ward vs Allen Green. I just haven't been able to get into any of the fights. I forgot it was on and caught after they had just announced that Ward had won. Is anyone following this?

Randy

I watched it. Was also on the horn with Rick about 3 times during the bout. I'm one of these stalwarts where, if there is a fight on, I'm going to watch. Rick and I were dissecting the fight on what each would have to do to win, but we were in agreement, they weren't going to make us forget Jose Napoles or Rodrigo Valdez.

Scartissue

I will say this about Andre Ward, he threw some nice combos, worked the body and head, and pushed forward. He showed great spirit and worked hard. What I'm not impressed with is how "stiff" he looks. He was in great shape, but when they compared him with Sugar Ray Leonard I was shocked. As Dan mentioned, Ward will never make anybody forget Napoles or Rodrigo Valdez.

[kikibalt]

I didn't know today was father's day, till Connie said Happy father's day and I said "what fireplace?", no sh-t I heard "fireplace"... she then walked away mumbling..I think she was calling me an-a-hole....

[Randyman]

Showtimes Super middleweight tournament was on tonight, Andre Ward vs Allen Green. I just haven't been able to get into any of the fights. I forgot it was on and caught after they had just announced that Ward had won. Is anyone following this?

Randy

I watched it. Was also on the horn with Rick about 3 times during the bout. I'm one of these stalwarts where, if there is a fight on, I'm going to watch. Rick and I were dissecting the fight on what each would have to do to win, but we were in agreement, they weren't going to make us forget Jose Napoles or Rodrigo Valdez.

Scartissue

I will say this about Andre Ward, he threw some nice combos, worked the body and head, and pushed forward. He showed great spirit and worked hard. What I'm not impressed with is how "stiff" he looks. He was in great shape, but when they compared him with Sugar Ray Leonard I was shocked. As Dan mentioned, Ward will never make anybody forget Napoles or Rodrigo Valdez.

I had seen Jermaine Taylor's fight against Arthur Abraham and the Kessler vs Froch fight and wasn't overly impressed. Late last night they replayed the fight between Ward and Green. It was actually a pretty good fight, at least from Ward's standpoint. He was consistent, threw a lot of punches, fought well on the inside and landed the right hand with accuracy. He didn't do such a bad job with the left hook either. He had great stamina too. A good work ethic. It paid off.

Green had a lot of excuses after the fight but I think he was just out classed by a better fighter. Like you guys I was surprised at the comparison to a young Sugar Ray Leonard. Someday maybe,but not yet. Still it was a good performance by Ward.

Randy

[Randyman]

I didn't know today was father's day, till Connie said Happy father's day and I said "what fireplace?", no sh-t I heard "fireplace"... she then walked away mumbling..I think she was calling me an-a-hole....

[Randyman]

Father’s Day

I love Father’s Day. It’s a time set aside for us dads to just sit back, enjoy a good meal with the family and reap the rewards for all our hard work. Makes me feel special. I’m lucky too because I have great kids. No, they’re not perfect and I don’t expect them to be but they’re good kids and they wake up everyday giving it their best shot. They work and take care of their own business. They make it easy for me to be a good father. My wife and I are proud of all of them, and of our grandkids too.

For some fathers it can be a bittersweet day. When I read the cards from a father’s perspective I can get emotional. As I read the words of the cards, or more importantly, the words that my kids write, I can’t help but think of my own father. We are both sons and fathers. We love our kids and we miss our dads. I might not always say anything but they know me well enough. So today I will celebrate Father’s Day with my kids and I will remember my father, Andrew De La O.



Men Like our Fathers

Tom Brokaw called the people of my father’s generation the “Greatest Generation”. I agree with him. The men and woman that grew up during the depression and then went on to fight WWII were a hardy and tough bunch. I didn’t know anything about that when I was growing up but looking back I can see how growing up during the depression and WWII era affected my father’s life and in turn, mine.

The men of his generation were old school and while it wasn’t their generation that birthed America, it was their generation that rebuilt it. They did it with hard work. Politicians and big business get the lion’s share of glory but it was men like my father, and yours, that put this country back on track. Getting up everyday, going to work, paying their bills, buying a home and car and creating more jobs in the process and raising their kids. They weren’t afraid to dispense out punishment if you screwed up.

I understand now why my father would keep me at the table till bedtime and make me finish what was on my plate. Or why when I left a room he would say “Turn off the light”. It wasn’t negotiable. My father was frugal and always had several $100.00 bills in his wallet. Just in case. They knew how to save. When something was wrong or broken at home he would find a way to fix it. It wasn’t always pretty but he always gave it his best shot. When there was something that he wanted to buy, he saved for it. He didn’t pile up the debt by using a credit card. That was for emergencies. The whole generation was that way.

With the exception of a few weeks in December of 1963, when he was hospitalized with pneumonia and was near death, my father never missed a day at work. It wouldn’t have occurred to him or men like him to wake up and say “Nice day today, I think I’ll call in sick and go to the beach”. You never heard one of them say “I’m stressing out” or “I have to find myself” They wouldn’t understand it. It would be a foreign concept to them.

My father could be hard man at times, it was his way, and he wasn’t perfect either but he was a man. He lived like a man. He had his rules and principles that he lived by and when he was right, and as far as he was concerned he was always right, he would stand his ground. He had his gentle side too. He wasn’t afraid to show his love to all of us; my mother, my sister and brother or to me.

My father’s word was his bond. He taught my brother and I how to shake a man’s hand. A firm grip and look’em straight in the eye. Let them know you mean business. These men were heroes to me and I’m not ashamed to say it. These are men worth emulating. Who is worthier of imitation than our own fathers?

My father in law, Henry Huizar ,was cut from the same cloth. He was older than my father but like my father he was a man’s man. Right or wrong neither one of them took any crap from anyone. When a man make’s his own way in life, why should he? Cross them and you were likely to find a hand on your throat or a fist in your face or worse.


I read this once though I can’t remember where. It has stayed with me and always will. The words describe how I feel.

“If I could be half the man my father was, I would be twice the man that I am.”


Lessons learned From a Father

My father spent his life teaching his kids how to live and how to survive. Sometimes we learned by listening to what he had to say, sometimes just by watching him. Often times it was the smallest things.

Some time around the mid 1960’s I went with my father to a friend of his, a mechanic, somewhere in Los Angeles to have some work done on his car. They were going to work on it together. Presumably, to save my father a few bucks. It was going to be an all day job so I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I found this house that had a huge pigeon coop, a large tower really, you couldn’t miss it. The owner of the house had just brought his lawnmower out to his front yard. I walked up to him and said “Hey, mister, would it be alright if I looked at your pigeons?” He took me to the back and I went inside the coop. It was huge. It was filled with Fantails, Tumblers and other show birds.

Suddenly I had an idea. “Hey, mister, I’ll cut your lawn for a pigeon.” “One pigeon?” he asked. “Sure”. So I cut his front lawn, emptied all the grass and cleaned and swept the sidewalk. “I’m done” I said “Can I have my pigeon?” Done? You’re not done yet you still have to cut the backyard. The backyard?” I said, almost choking on the words. “I was only going to cut the front lawn!” “well, you didn’t say, so if you want the pigeon you’ll have to cut the backyard too or forget about the pigeon”.

I went to the back and for the first time I realized just how big a yard it was. I was sorry I had said anything but a deal was a deal. To this day I don’t think I have ever mowed a lawn that big. I hope I never have to. When I was done he walked up to me and handed me a pigeon. “Here you go” he said. The bird was what we called a “commie”, short for common. It’s the pigeon you see under a freeway or an over pass. A rat with wings. “This isn’t the one I wanted” I said “I thought I could pick one myself”. He wasn’t going to budge. “You never said anything about that, take it and get out of here!”

I was gone a long time and I was sure my father was going to be pissed. I walked up to the garage where my father was and sure enough he was mad. “Where have you been? He asked. He looked at me and I was a mess, covered with, dirt, dust and sweat, with a pigeon in my hand. “What the hell were you doing? What‘s that?” I told him what had happened. I don’t know that I ever saw my father angrier. When he was done with the car he said to me “Show me the house!” I didn’t want to say anything but I wasn’t about to tell him no.

The man was still in the front yard when we pulled up. He was watering his lawn. He had a look of smug satisfaction on his face and I think that really ticked my father off. The man saw us and he recognized me but he continued to water his lawn. “Wait here!“ my father said to me. He got out of the car and pigeon in hand, made a beeline to the man. My father had a certain way of walking when he was mad. There was no mistaking his anger. The man saw this, dropped the hose and started backing up. My father let him have it. He stopped short of hitting him. My father let go of the bird and I saw the man pull out his wallet and give my father something. My father got back into the car and handed me the ten dollars the man had given him. “Here’s your pay” He said. “”Next time use your head a little”. Lesson learned.

In 1973, when gas was about 35 cents a gallon and a guy could fill up his tank with a few bucks I pulled into the 76 gas station on the corner of Rosemead and Washington Blvds, in Pico Rivera. I only had a few bucks on me. The gas station attendant, a young kid, came up to the window and asked me ”How much?” This was before all the self service gas stations popped up. I said” Two bucks” he put the gas in and came back and said “That’ll be three bucks”. “Three bucks“, I said “I only asked for two!” “Oh, I thought you said three”. He seemed more embarrassed than anything else. “I’m only paying two bucks, that’s all I asked for”

When I got home I saw my father and said “Hey, I got an extra buck’s worth of gas right now” I told him what had happened. I was feeling so good about scoring some extra gas but the look on my father’s face told me that maybe it wasn’t so good. I should have kept my mouth shut. “You stiffed him?” he asked me. “They‘re going to take it out of his pay!” he said. “Well, I only asked for two bucks”.

I went to my room for a while and when I came out later I asked my mom “Hey Mom, where’s dad? “He went to the gas station to pay for the gas that you should have paid for!” She said. ”Her tone of voice said it all. He’s paying for my gas? I only asked for two bucks worth!” I kept insisting. I was feeling lousier by the second. She just shook her head and walked away. I felt myself shrinking away in shame. My father never said a word to me about it and I never brought it up. Lesson learned.

My father was an upholsterer at Landmark Fine Furniture in Los Angeles. He was one of the best in the trade. When things were slow at work he would find customers and do some upholstery work in the garage. He was always working. Once, he was doing a job for some woman in Palm Springs. It was a big job, a sectional, and it turned out to be a lot of work and to top it off my father had misquoted her on the price. He was going to break even and nothing more. My mother kept after him, as any wife would, to call her up and tell her he made a mistake. He wouldn’t hear of it. He had given his word and that was that. He completed the job and the woman was happy with her furniture. My father didn’t skimp on the job. He still gave her his best. Lesson learned.

Sometimes we inadvertently learn a lesson from our fathers. Case in point. It was about 1967 or so and we were on vacation. I can’t remember if we were in Palm Springs or Arizona. We were at a motel. My mother and my brother Dennis and I went to the pool. My mother didn’t swim so she was lying on a chaise lounge soaking up the sun. My brother was three, maybe four years old, so I took him to the kids pool. My father stayed in the room and as always he was either listening to the L.A. Dodgers on the radio or watching them on the TV. There was no pulling him away from a ballgame.

At some point my father came out of the room to get some ice. As he was getting the ice, some woman in a skimpy white bikini came to get some ice too. My father couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Who could blame him? My mother was watching him from the other side of the pool. My father got his ice but never took his eyes off this woman. He walked straight ahead, all the time just watching her.

We saw it coming but it happened so fast there was no stopping it. My father fully clothed and wearing a hat walked straight into the kids pool. From the other side off the pool you could hear my mother laughing with pure joy. The whole place was laughing including the girl in the white bikini. My father shot straight up out of the water in complete shock, holding an ice bucket filled with water and then he just burst out laughing. He was a sight. He was a good sport about it. Several lesson learned here.

Nothing pleases a father more than knowing you were listening to him, paying attention to what he was trying to teach., even the most trivial and mundane things. When I was growing up it was my job to pull the weeds and take care of the yard. My father’s pet peeve was the dirt being left on the roots of the weeds. By the time the trash can was filled it would weigh a ton. He wanted the roots shaken so the dirt would fall off. I rarely shook them.

Years later, in 1978, when Jeri and I moved into our first home in Uptown Whittier on Newlin Avenue, I was working in the yard, pulling weeds of all things. My father stopped by for a visit. We were talking while I was working. I was pulling the weeds, shaking the dirt off and then tossing them into the trash can. “So you were paying attention” He said. I looked up at him and he was smiling. We locked eyes for a few seconds. I smiled back and then continued to pull the weeds. The moment was not lost on me. I learned a hell of a lot more than just the proper way to pull weeds from my father over the years but that moment is locked in my mind. It was symbolic, perhaps, of a son who had learned a few things from his dad.

Happy Father’s Day to all my pals here on 'West Cost Boxing".

Happy Fathers Day to you, Randy, and to all our CAWCB amigos. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Jeri next week, as well as Frank and family, Tom, etc.
For me, receiving this award is an honor, however, getting together with great friends is what makes it special. It's like we've all come home for a reunion. Randy, we grew up with these guys, and when you add posters from our great thread, it feels like a family event. Don Fraser and Frank put together a nice event each year. Nobody does it better on the West Coast.
Enjoy your Father's Day guys!

Same to you Rick, and I'm really looking forward to next Saturday. Mel would be pleased with your honor.

Randy

[Panzerfaust]

Father’s Day

I love Father’s Day. It’s a time set aside for us dads to just sit back, enjoy a good meal with the family and reap the rewards for all our hard work. Makes me feel special. I’m lucky too because I have great kids. No, they’re not perfect and I don’t expect them to be but they’re good kids and they wake up everyday giving it their best shot. They work and take care of their own business. They make it easy for me to be a good father. My wife and I are proud of all of them, and of our grandkids too.

For some fathers it can be a bittersweet day. When I read the cards from a father’s perspective I can get emotional. As I read the words of the cards, or more importantly, the words that my kids write, I can’t help but think of my own father. We are both sons and fathers. We love our kids and we miss our dads. I might not always say anything but they know me well enough. So today I will celebrate Father’s Day with my kids and I will remember my father, Andrew De La O.



Men Like our Fathers

Tom Brokaw called the people of my father’s generation the “Greatest Generation”. I agree with him. The men and woman that grew up during the depression and then went on to fight WWII were a hardy and tough bunch. I didn’t know anything about that when I was growing up but looking back I can see how growing up during the depression and WWII era affected my father’s life and in turn, mine.

The men of his generation were old school and while it wasn’t their generation that birthed America, it was their generation that rebuilt it. They did it with hard work. Politicians and big business get the lion’s share of glory but it was men like my father, and yours, that put this country back on track. Getting up everyday, going to work, paying their bills, buying a home and car and creating more jobs in the process and raising their kids. They weren’t afraid to dispense out punishment if you screwed up.

I understand now why my father would keep me at the table till bedtime and make me finish what was on my plate. Or why when I left a room he would say “Turn off the light”. It wasn’t negotiable. My father was frugal and always had several $100.00 bills in his wallet. Just in case. They knew how to save. When something was wrong or broken at home he would find a way to fix it. It wasn’t always pretty but he always gave it his best shot. When there was something that he wanted to buy, he saved for it. He didn’t pile up the debt by using a credit card. That was for emergencies. The whole generation was that way.

With the exception of a few weeks in December of 1963, when he was hospitalized with pneumonia and was near death, my father never missed a day at work. It wouldn’t have occurred to him or men like him to wake up and say “Nice day today, I think I’ll call in sick and go to the beach”. You never heard one of them say “I’m stressing out” or “I have to find myself” They wouldn’t understand it. It would be a foreign concept to them.

My father could be hard man at times, it was his way, and he wasn’t perfect either but he was a man. He lived like a man. He had his rules and principles that he lived by and when he was right, and as far as he was concerned he was always right, he would stand his ground. He had his gentle side too. He wasn’t afraid to show his love to all of us; my mother, my sister and brother or to me.

My father’s word was his bond. He taught my brother and I how to shake a man’s hand. A firm grip and look’em straight in the eye. Let them know you mean business. These men were heroes to me and I’m not ashamed to say it. These are men worth emulating. Who is worthier of imitation than our own fathers?

My father in law, Henry Huizar ,was cut from the same cloth. He was older than my father but like my father he was a man’s man. Right or wrong neither one of them took any crap from anyone. When a man make’s his own way in life, why should he? Cross them and you were likely to find a hand on your throat or a fist in your face or worse.


I read this once though I can’t remember where. It has stayed with me and always will. The words describe how I feel.

“If I could be half the man my father was, I would be twice the man that I am.”


Lessons learned From a Father

My father spent his life teaching his kids how to live and how to survive. Sometimes we learned by listening to what he had to say, sometimes just by watching him. Often times it was the smallest things.

Some time around the mid 1960’s I went with my father to a friend of his, a mechanic, somewhere in Los Angeles to have some work done on his car. They were going to work on it together. Presumably, to save my father a few bucks. It was going to be an all day job so I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I found this house that had a huge pigeon coop, a large tower really, you couldn’t miss it. The owner of the house had just brought his lawnmower out to his front yard. I walked up to him and said “Hey, mister, would it be alright if I looked at your pigeons?” He took me to the back and I went inside the coop. It was huge. It was filled with Fantails, Tumblers and other show birds.

Suddenly I had an idea. “Hey, mister, I’ll cut your lawn for a pigeon.” “One pigeon?” he asked. “Sure”. So I cut his front lawn, emptied all the grass and cleaned and swept the sidewalk. “I’m done” I said “Can I have my pigeon?” Done? You’re not done yet you still have to cut the backyard. The backyard?” I said, almost choking on the words. “I was only going to cut the front lawn!” “well, you didn’t say, so if you want the pigeon you’ll have to cut the backyard too or forget about the pigeon”.

I went to the back and for the first time I realized just how big a yard it was. I was sorry I had said anything but a deal was a deal. To this day I don’t think I have ever mowed a lawn that big. I hope I never have to. When I was done he walked up to me and handed me a pigeon. “Here you go” he said. The bird was what we called a “commie”, short for common. It’s the pigeon you see under a freeway or an over pass. A rat with wings. “This isn’t the one I wanted” I said “I thought I could pick one myself”. He wasn’t going to budge. “You never said anything about that, take it and get out of here!”

I was gone a long time and I was sure my father was going to be pissed. I walked up to the garage where my father was and sure enough he was mad. “Where have you been? He asked. He looked at me and I was a mess, covered with, dirt, dust and sweat, with a pigeon in my hand. “What the hell were you doing? What‘s that?” I told him what had happened. I don’t know that I ever saw my father angrier. When he was done with the car he said to me “Show me the house!” I didn’t want to say anything but I wasn’t about to tell him no.

The man was still in the front yard when we pulled up. He was watering his lawn. He had a look of smug satisfaction on his face and I think that really ticked my father off. The man saw us and he recognized me but he continued to water his lawn. “Wait here!“ my father said to me. He got out of the car and pigeon in hand, made a beeline to the man. My father had a certain way of walking when he was mad. There was no mistaking his anger. The man saw this, dropped the hose and started backing up. My father let him have it. He stopped short of hitting him. My father let go of the bird and I saw the man pull out his wallet and give my father something. My father got back into the car and handed me the ten dollars the man had given him. “Here’s your pay” He said. “”Next time use your head a little”. Lesson learned.

In 1973, when gas was about 35 cents a gallon and a guy could fill up his tank with a few bucks I pulled into the 76 gas station on the corner of Rosemead and Washington Blvds, in Pico Rivera. I only had a few bucks on me. The gas station attendant, a young kid, came up to the window and asked me ”How much?” This was before all the self service gas stations popped up. I said” Two bucks” he put the gas in and came back and said “That’ll be three bucks”. “Three bucks“, I said “I only asked for two!” “Oh, I thought you said three”. He seemed more embarrassed than anything else. “I’m only paying two bucks, that’s all I asked for”

When I got home I saw my father and said “Hey, I got an extra buck’s worth of gas right now” I told him what had happened. I was feeling so good about scoring some extra gas but the look on my father’s face told me that maybe it wasn’t so good. I should have kept my mouth shut. “You stiffed him?” he asked me. “They‘re going to take it out of his pay!” he said. “Well, I only asked for two bucks”.

I went to my room for a while and when I came out later I asked my mom “Hey Mom, where’s dad? “He went to the gas station to pay for the gas that you should have paid for!” She said. ”Her tone of voice said it all. He’s paying for my gas? I only asked for two bucks worth!” I kept insisting. I was feeling lousier by the second. She just shook her head and walked away. I felt myself shrinking away in shame. My father never said a word to me about it and I never brought it up. Lesson learned.

My father was an upholsterer at Landmark Fine Furniture in Los Angeles. He was one of the best in the trade. When things were slow at work he would find customers and do some upholstery work in the garage. He was always working. Once, he was doing a job for some woman in Palm Springs. It was a big job, a sectional, and it turned out to be a lot of work and to top it off my father had misquoted her on the price. He was going to break even and nothing more. My mother kept after him, as any wife would, to call her up and tell her he made a mistake. He wouldn’t hear of it. He had given his word and that was that. He completed the job and the woman was happy with her furniture. My father didn’t skimp on the job. He still gave her his best. Lesson learned.

Sometimes we inadvertently learn a lesson from our fathers. Case in point. It was about 1967 or so and we were on vacation. I can’t remember if we were in Palm Springs or Arizona. We were at a motel. My mother and my brother Dennis and I went to the pool. My mother didn’t swim so she was lying on a chaise lounge soaking up the sun. My brother was three, maybe four years old, so I took him to the kids pool. My father stayed in the room and as always he was either listening to the L.A. Dodgers on the radio or watching them on the TV. There was no pulling him away from a ballgame.

At some point my father came out of the room to get some ice. As he was getting the ice, some woman in a skimpy white bikini came to get some ice too. My father couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Who could blame him? My mother was watching him from the other side of the pool. My father got his ice but never took his eyes off this woman. He walked straight ahead, all the time just watching her.

We saw it coming but it happened so fast there was no stopping it. My father fully clothed and wearing a hat walked straight into the kids pool. From the other side off the pool you could hear my mother laughing with pure joy. The whole place was laughing including the girl in the white bikini. My father shot straight up out of the water in complete shock, holding an ice bucket filled with water and then he just burst out laughing. He was a sight. He was a good sport about it. Several lesson learned here.

Nothing pleases a father more than knowing you were listening to him, paying attention to what he was trying to teach., even the most trivial and mundane things. When I was growing up it was my job to pull the weeds and take care of the yard. My father’s pet peeve was the dirt being left on the roots of the weeds. By the time the trash can was filled it would weigh a ton. He wanted the roots shaken so the dirt would fall off. I rarely shook them.

Years later, in 1978, when Jeri and I moved into our first home in Uptown Whittier on Newlin Avenue, I was working in the yard, pulling weeds of all things. My father stopped by for a visit. We were talking while I was working. I was pulling the weeds, shaking the dirt off and then tossing them into the trash can. “So you were paying attention” He said. I looked up at him and he was smiling. We locked eyes for a few seconds. I smiled back and then continued to pull the weeds. The moment was not lost on me. I learned a hell of a lot more than just the proper way to pull weeds from my father over the years but that moment is locked in my mind. It was symbolic, perhaps, of a son who had learned a few things from his dad.

Happy Father’s Day to all my pals here on 'West Cost Boxing".

Great stuff Randy happy fathers day

[THEHAMMER321]

Showtimes Super middleweight tournament was on tonight, Andre Ward vs Allen Green. I just haven't been able to get into any of the fights. I forgot it was on and caught after they had just announced that Ward had won. Is anyone following this?

Randy

I watched it. Was also on the horn with Rick about 3 times during the bout. I'm one of these stalwarts where, if there is a fight on, I'm going to watch. Rick and I were dissecting the fight on what each would have to do to win, but we were in agreement, they weren't going to make us forget Jose Napoles or Rodrigo Valdez.

Scartissue

I will say this about Andre Ward, he threw some nice combos, worked the body and head, and pushed forward. He showed great spirit and worked hard. What I'm not impressed with is how "stiff" he looks. He was in great shape, but when they compared him with Sugar Ray Leonard I was shocked. As Dan mentioned, Ward will never make anybody forget Napoles or Rodrigo Valdez.

I think Ward looks like a young Buddy mcgirt facially.

[Rick Farris]

Found this pic in an old Ring, a young Chacon and an older Robinson. Sorry about quality and size, I am not much good at this photo resizing lark.

Robinson continued to train for at least ten years after his retirement, at age 45. He worked out almost daily at the Main Street Gym.
I almost always saw Robinson wearing his rubber sweat suit.
He and Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez would often spar together, and that alone was more exciting most main events.
Great story and memories of Bobby Chacon. He'll be sitting at Tom's CBHOF table next week.

[kikibalt]

Found this pic in an old Ring, a young Chacon and an older Robinson. Sorry about quality and size, I am not much good at this photo resizing lark.

Robinson continued to train for at least ten years after his retirement, at age 45. He worked out almost daily at the Main Street Gym.
I almost always saw Robinson wearing his rubber sweat suit.
He and Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez would often spar together, and that alone was more exciting most main events.
Great story and memories of Bobby Chacon. He'll be sitting at Tom's CBHOF table next week.

Tom better be ready for a wet kiss....

[Rick Farris]

Father’s Day

I love Father’s Day. It’s a time set aside for us dads to just sit back, enjoy a good meal with the family and reap the rewards for all our hard work. Makes me feel special. I’m lucky too because I have great kids. No, they’re not perfect and I don’t expect them to be but they’re good kids and they wake up everyday giving it their best shot. They work and take care of their own business. They make it easy for me to be a good father. My wife and I are proud of all of them, and of our grandkids too.

For some fathers it can be a bittersweet day. When I read the cards from a father’s perspective I can get emotional. As I read the words of the cards, or more importantly, the words that my kids write, I can’t help but think of my own father. We are both sons and fathers. We love our kids and we miss our dads. I might not always say anything but they know me well enough. So today I will celebrate Father’s Day with my kids and I will remember my father, Andrew De La O.



Men Like our Fathers

Tom Brokaw called the people of my father’s generation the “Greatest Generation”. I agree with him. The men and woman that grew up during the depression and then went on to fight WWII were a hardy and tough bunch. I didn’t know anything about that when I was growing up but looking back I can see how growing up during the depression and WWII era affected my father’s life and in turn, mine.

The men of his generation were old school and while it wasn’t their generation that birthed America, it was their generation that rebuilt it. They did it with hard work. Politicians and big business get the lion’s share of glory but it was men like my father, and yours, that put this country back on track. Getting up everyday, going to work, paying their bills, buying a home and car and creating more jobs in the process and raising their kids. They weren’t afraid to dispense out punishment if you screwed up.

I understand now why my father would keep me at the table till bedtime and make me finish what was on my plate. Or why when I left a room he would say “Turn off the light”. It wasn’t negotiable. My father was frugal and always had several $100.00 bills in his wallet. Just in case. They knew how to save. When something was wrong or broken at home he would find a way to fix it. It wasn’t always pretty but he always gave it his best shot. When there was something that he wanted to buy, he saved for it. He didn’t pile up the debt by using a credit card. That was for emergencies. The whole generation was that way.

With the exception of a few weeks in December of 1963, when he was hospitalized with pneumonia and was near death, my father never missed a day at work. It wouldn’t have occurred to him or men like him to wake up and say “Nice day today, I think I’ll call in sick and go to the beach”. You never heard one of them say “I’m stressing out” or “I have to find myself” They wouldn’t understand it. It would be a foreign concept to them.

My father could be hard man at times, it was his way, and he wasn’t perfect either but he was a man. He lived like a man. He had his rules and principles that he lived by and when he was right, and as far as he was concerned he was always right, he would stand his ground. He had his gentle side too. He wasn’t afraid to show his love to all of us; my mother, my sister and brother or to me.

My father’s word was his bond. He taught my brother and I how to shake a man’s hand. A firm grip and look’em straight in the eye. Let them know you mean business. These men were heroes to me and I’m not ashamed to say it. These are men worth emulating. Who is worthier of imitation than our own fathers?

My father in law, Henry Huizar ,was cut from the same cloth. He was older than my father but like my father he was a man’s man. Right or wrong neither one of them took any crap from anyone. When a man make’s his own way in life, why should he? Cross them and you were likely to find a hand on your throat or a fist in your face or worse.


I read this once though I can’t remember where. It has stayed with me and always will. The words describe how I feel.

“If I could be half the man my father was, I would be twice the man that I am.”


Lessons learned From a Father

My father spent his life teaching his kids how to live and how to survive. Sometimes we learned by listening to what he had to say, sometimes just by watching him. Often times it was the smallest things.

Some time around the mid 1960’s I went with my father to a friend of his, a mechanic, somewhere in Los Angeles to have some work done on his car. They were going to work on it together. Presumably, to save my father a few bucks. It was going to be an all day job so I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I found this house that had a huge pigeon coop, a large tower really, you couldn’t miss it. The owner of the house had just brought his lawnmower out to his front yard. I walked up to him and said “Hey, mister, would it be alright if I looked at your pigeons?” He took me to the back and I went inside the coop. It was huge. It was filled with Fantails, Tumblers and other show birds.

Suddenly I had an idea. “Hey, mister, I’ll cut your lawn for a pigeon.” “One pigeon?” he asked. “Sure”. So I cut his front lawn, emptied all the grass and cleaned and swept the sidewalk. “I’m done” I said “Can I have my pigeon?” Done? You’re not done yet you still have to cut the backyard. The backyard?” I said, almost choking on the words. “I was only going to cut the front lawn!” “well, you didn’t say, so if you want the pigeon you’ll have to cut the backyard too or forget about the pigeon”.

I went to the back and for the first time I realized just how big a yard it was. I was sorry I had said anything but a deal was a deal. To this day I don’t think I have ever mowed a lawn that big. I hope I never have to. When I was done he walked up to me and handed me a pigeon. “Here you go” he said. The bird was what we called a “commie”, short for common. It’s the pigeon you see under a freeway or an over pass. A rat with wings. “This isn’t the one I wanted” I said “I thought I could pick one myself”. He wasn’t going to budge. “You never said anything about that, take it and get out of here!”

I was gone a long time and I was sure my father was going to be pissed. I walked up to the garage where my father was and sure enough he was mad. “Where have you been? He asked. He looked at me and I was a mess, covered with, dirt, dust and sweat, with a pigeon in my hand. “What the hell were you doing? What‘s that?” I told him what had happened. I don’t know that I ever saw my father angrier. When he was done with the car he said to me “Show me the house!” I didn’t want to say anything but I wasn’t about to tell him no.

The man was still in the front yard when we pulled up. He was watering his lawn. He had a look of smug satisfaction on his face and I think that really ticked my father off. The man saw us and he recognized me but he continued to water his lawn. “Wait here!“ my father said to me. He got out of the car and pigeon in hand, made a beeline to the man. My father had a certain way of walking when he was mad. There was no mistaking his anger. The man saw this, dropped the hose and started backing up. My father let him have it. He stopped short of hitting him. My father let go of the bird and I saw the man pull out his wallet and give my father something. My father got back into the car and handed me the ten dollars the man had given him. “Here’s your pay” He said. “”Next time use your head a little”. Lesson learned.

In 1973, when gas was about 35 cents a gallon and a guy could fill up his tank with a few bucks I pulled into the 76 gas station on the corner of Rosemead and Washington Blvds, in Pico Rivera. I only had a few bucks on me. The gas station attendant, a young kid, came up to the window and asked me ”How much?” This was before all the self service gas stations popped up. I said” Two bucks” he put the gas in and came back and said “That’ll be three bucks”. “Three bucks“, I said “I only asked for two!” “Oh, I thought you said three”. He seemed more embarrassed than anything else. “I’m only paying two bucks, that’s all I asked for”

When I got home I saw my father and said “Hey, I got an extra buck’s worth of gas right now” I told him what had happened. I was feeling so good about scoring some extra gas but the look on my father’s face told me that maybe it wasn’t so good. I should have kept my mouth shut. “You stiffed him?” he asked me. “They‘re going to take it out of his pay!” he said. “Well, I only asked for two bucks”.

I went to my room for a while and when I came out later I asked my mom “Hey Mom, where’s dad? “He went to the gas station to pay for the gas that you should have paid for!” She said. ”Her tone of voice said it all. He’s paying for my gas? I only asked for two bucks worth!” I kept insisting. I was feeling lousier by the second. She just shook her head and walked away. I felt myself shrinking away in shame. My father never said a word to me about it and I never brought it up. Lesson learned.

My father was an upholsterer at Landmark Fine Furniture in Los Angeles. He was one of the best in the trade. When things were slow at work he would find customers and do some upholstery work in the garage. He was always working. Once, he was doing a job for some woman in Palm Springs. It was a big job, a sectional, and it turned out to be a lot of work and to top it off my father had misquoted her on the price. He was going to break even and nothing more. My mother kept after him, as any wife would, to call her up and tell her he made a mistake. He wouldn’t hear of it. He had given his word and that was that. He completed the job and the woman was happy with her furniture. My father didn’t skimp on the job. He still gave her his best. Lesson learned.

Sometimes we inadvertently learn a lesson from our fathers. Case in point. It was about 1967 or so and we were on vacation. I can’t remember if we were in Palm Springs or Arizona. We were at a motel. My mother and my brother Dennis and I went to the pool. My mother didn’t swim so she was lying on a chaise lounge soaking up the sun. My brother was three, maybe four years old, so I took him to the kids pool. My father stayed in the room and as always he was either listening to the L.A. Dodgers on the radio or watching them on the TV. There was no pulling him away from a ballgame.

At some point my father came out of the room to get some ice. As he was getting the ice, some woman in a skimpy white bikini came to get some ice too. My father couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Who could blame him? My mother was watching him from the other side of the pool. My father got his ice but never took his eyes off this woman. He walked straight ahead, all the time just watching her.

We saw it coming but it happened so fast there was no stopping it. My father fully clothed and wearing a hat walked straight into the kids pool. From the other side off the pool you could hear my mother laughing with pure joy. The whole place was laughing including the girl in the white bikini. My father shot straight up out of the water in complete shock, holding an ice bucket filled with water and then he just burst out laughing. He was a sight. He was a good sport about it. Several lesson learned here.

Nothing pleases a father more than knowing you were listening to him, paying attention to what he was trying to teach., even the most trivial and mundane things. When I was growing up it was my job to pull the weeds and take care of the yard. My father’s pet peeve was the dirt being left on the roots of the weeds. By the time the trash can was filled it would weigh a ton. He wanted the roots shaken so the dirt would fall off. I rarely shook them.

Years later, in 1978, when Jeri and I moved into our first home in Uptown Whittier on Newlin Avenue, I was working in the yard, pulling weeds of all things. My father stopped by for a visit. We were talking while I was working. I was pulling the weeds, shaking the dirt off and then tossing them into the trash can. “So you were paying attention” He said. I looked up at him and he was smiling. We locked eyes for a few seconds. I smiled back and then continued to pull the weeds. The moment was not lost on me. I learned a hell of a lot more than just the proper way to pull weeds from my father over the years but that moment is locked in my mind. It was symbolic, perhaps, of a son who had learned a few things from his dad.

Happy Father’s Day to all my pals here on 'West Cost Boxing".

Happy Fathers Day to you, Randy, and to all our CAWCB amigos. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Jeri next week, as well as Frank and family, Tom, etc.
For me, receiving this award is an honor, however, getting together with great friends is what makes it special. It's like we've all come home for a reunion. Randy, we grew up with these guys, and when you add posters from our great thread, it feels like a family event. Don Fraser and Frank put together a nice event each year. Nobody does it better on the West Coast.
Enjoy your Father's Day guys!

Same to you Rick, and I'm really looking forward to next Saturday. Mel would be pleased with your honor.

Randy

Remembering Mel . . .

Mel wouldn't be smiling, he would be angered that they are rewarding a boxer he trained that did not follow his orders to the number.
He would then spin off to a story about Harry "Kid" Mathews, Hubert Dennis or Young Firpo, and state these are the fighters who belong in the HOF. He would point out that all were not only great boxers, but had a "fighter's haircut". Case in point. In 1976, I lost a very close decision in a very rough fight that Don Fraser made at the Forum. Just a six-rounder, but a toe-to-toe war. I had been drunk a couple nights before the match, Mel was upset. The fight was so action packed, that Don gave me a watch the following week, after requesting I take a bow in the ring before the main event. It was a televised event. I was there with my girlfriend and Mel. I didn't tell Mel what Fraser wanted me to do, and when he saw Don come over to tell me to step into the ring, he blew up. "If you step into the ring I'm done with you!" I said Good bye, and stepped into the ring. From then on, he sat with his arms folded, a scowl on his face. All the way home, he bitched that I was rewarded for a fight that I should have won easily, and lost.

Would Mel be smiling? No way!

[Expug]

Happy Fathers day Gents.
Randy,thats a wonderful tribute to your Dad.
He was a man of character. He passed it on to you.

[Rick Farris]

Found this pic in an old Ring, a young Chacon and an older Robinson. Sorry about quality and size, I am not much good at this photo resizing lark.

Robinson continued to train for at least ten years after his retirement, at age 45. He worked out almost daily at the Main Street Gym.
I almost always saw Robinson wearing his rubber sweat suit.
He and Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez would often spar together, and that alone was more exciting most main events.
Great story and memories of Bobby Chacon. He'll be sitting at Tom's CBHOF table next week.

Tom better be ready for a wet kiss....

That's no joke, Tom. He'll nail you when you aren't looking. He'll walk over to you, stick out his hand and point behind you, with a look of surprise on his face. You'll turn to see what he was looking at, and when you turn back, he'll plant one on your cheek. You gotta be on your toes to avoid Bobby's lips.

[Randyman]

Happy Fathers Day to you, Randy, and to all our CAWCB amigos. I'm looking forward to seeing you and Jeri next week, as well as Frank and family, Tom, etc.
For me, receiving this award is an honor, however, getting together with great friends is what makes it special. It's like we've all come home for a reunion. Randy, we grew up with these guys, and when you add posters from our great thread, it feels like a family event. Don Fraser and Frank put together a nice event each year. Nobody does it better on the West Coast.
Enjoy your Father's Day guys!

Same to you Rick, and I'm really looking forward to next Saturday. Mel would be pleased with your honor.

Randy

Remembering Mel . . .

Mel wouldn't be smiling, he would be angered that they are rewarding a boxer he trained that did not follow his orders to the number.
He would then spin off to a story about Harry "Kid" Mathews, Hubert Dennis or Young Firpo, and state these are the fighters who belong in the HOF. He would point out that all were not only great boxers, but had a "fighter's haircut". Case in point. In 1976, I lost a very close decision in a very rough fight that Don Fraser made at the Forum. Just a six-rounder, but a toe-to-toe war. I had been drunk a couple nights before the match, Mel was upset. The fight was so action packed, that Don gave me a watch the following week, after requesting I take a bow in the ring before the main event. It was a televised event. I was there with my girlfriend and Mel. I didn't tell Mel what Fraser wanted me to do, and when he saw Don come over to tell me to step into the ring, he blew up. "If you step into the ring I'm done with you!" I said Good bye, and stepped into the ring. From then on, he sat with his arms folded, a scowl on his face. All the way home, he bitched that I was rewarded for a fight that I should have won easily, and lost.

Would Mel be smiling? No way!

Well, okay, if you say so.

[Randyman]

Robinson continued to train for at least ten years after his retirement, at age 45. He worked out almost daily at the Main Street Gym.
I almost always saw Robinson wearing his rubber sweat suit.
He and Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez would often spar together, and that alone was more exciting most main events.
Great story and memories of Bobby Chacon. He'll be sitting at Tom's CBHOF table next week.

Tom better be ready for a wet kiss....

That's no joke, Tom. He'll nail you when you aren't looking. He'll walk over to you, stick out his hand and point behind you, with a look of surprise on his face. You'll turn to see what he was looking at, and when you turn back, he'll plant one on your cheek. You gotta be on your toes to avoid Bobby's lips.

Ain't that the truth!

[Randyman]

Happy Fathers day Gents.
Randy,thats a wonderful tribute to your Dad.
He was a man of character. He passed it on to you.

Thanks Brian!

[Randyman]

Father’s Day

I love Father’s Day. It’s a time set aside for us dads to just sit back, enjoy a good meal with the family and reap the rewards for all our hard work. Makes me feel special. I’m lucky too because I have great kids. No, they’re not perfect and I don’t expect them to be but they’re good kids and they wake up everyday giving it their best shot. They work and take care of their own business. They make it easy for me to be a good father. My wife and I are proud of all of them, and of our grandkids too.

For some fathers it can be a bittersweet day. When I read the cards from a father’s perspective I can get emotional. As I read the words of the cards, or more importantly, the words that my kids write, I can’t help but think of my own father. We are both sons and fathers. We love our kids and we miss our dads. I might not always say anything but they know me well enough. So today I will celebrate Father’s Day with my kids and I will remember my father, Andrew De La O.



Men Like our Fathers

Tom Brokaw called the people of my father’s generation the “Greatest Generation”. I agree with him. The men and woman that grew up during the depression and then went on to fight WWII were a hardy and tough bunch. I didn’t know anything about that when I was growing up but looking back I can see how growing up during the depression and WWII era affected my father’s life and in turn, mine.

The men of his generation were old school and while it wasn’t their generation that birthed America, it was their generation that rebuilt it. They did it with hard work. Politicians and big business get the lion’s share of glory but it was men like my father, and yours, that put this country back on track. Getting up everyday, going to work, paying their bills, buying a home and car and creating more jobs in the process and raising their kids. They weren’t afraid to dispense out punishment if you screwed up.

I understand now why my father would keep me at the table till bedtime and make me finish what was on my plate. Or why when I left a room he would say “Turn off the light”. It wasn’t negotiable. My father was frugal and always had several $100.00 bills in his wallet. Just in case. They knew how to save. When something was wrong or broken at home he would find a way to fix it. It wasn’t always pretty but he always gave it his best shot. When there was something that he wanted to buy, he saved for it. He didn’t pile up the debt by using a credit card. That was for emergencies. The whole generation was that way.

With the exception of a few weeks in December of 1963, when he was hospitalized with pneumonia and was near death, my father never missed a day at work. It wouldn’t have occurred to him or men like him to wake up and say “Nice day today, I think I’ll call in sick and go to the beach”. You never heard one of them say “I’m stressing out” or “I have to find myself” They wouldn’t understand it. It would be a foreign concept to them.

My father could be hard man at times, it was his way, and he wasn’t perfect either but he was a man. He lived like a man. He had his rules and principles that he lived by and when he was right, and as far as he was concerned he was always right, he would stand his ground. He had his gentle side too. He wasn’t afraid to show his love to all of us; my mother, my sister and brother or to me.

My father’s word was his bond. He taught my brother and I how to shake a man’s hand. A firm grip and look’em straight in the eye. Let them know you mean business. These men were heroes to me and I’m not ashamed to say it. These are men worth emulating. Who is worthier of imitation than our own fathers?

My father in law, Henry Huizar ,was cut from the same cloth. He was older than my father but like my father he was a man’s man. Right or wrong neither one of them took any crap from anyone. When a man make’s his own way in life, why should he? Cross them and you were likely to find a hand on your throat or a fist in your face or worse.


I read this once though I can’t remember where. It has stayed with me and always will. The words describe how I feel.

“If I could be half the man my father was, I would be twice the man that I am.”


Lessons learned From a Father

My father spent his life teaching his kids how to live and how to survive. Sometimes we learned by listening to what he had to say, sometimes just by watching him. Often times it was the smallest things.

Some time around the mid 1960’s I went with my father to a friend of his, a mechanic, somewhere in Los Angeles to have some work done on his car. They were going to work on it together. Presumably, to save my father a few bucks. It was going to be an all day job so I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. I found this house that had a huge pigeon coop, a large tower really, you couldn’t miss it. The owner of the house had just brought his lawnmower out to his front yard. I walked up to him and said “Hey, mister, would it be alright if I looked at your pigeons?” He took me to the back and I went inside the coop. It was huge. It was filled with Fantails, Tumblers and other show birds.

Suddenly I had an idea. “Hey, mister, I’ll cut your lawn for a pigeon.” “One pigeon?” he asked. “Sure”. So I cut his front lawn, emptied all the grass and cleaned and swept the sidewalk. “I’m done” I said “Can I have my pigeon?” Done? You’re not done yet you still have to cut the backyard. The backyard?” I said, almost choking on the words. “I was only going to cut the front lawn!” “well, you didn’t say, so if you want the pigeon you’ll have to cut the backyard too or forget about the pigeon”.

I went to the back and for the first time I realized just how big a yard it was. I was sorry I had said anything but a deal was a deal. To this day I don’t think I have ever mowed a lawn that big. I hope I never have to. When I was done he walked up to me and handed me a pigeon. “Here you go” he said. The bird was what we called a “commie”, short for common. It’s the pigeon you see under a freeway or an over pass. A rat with wings. “This isn’t the one I wanted” I said “I thought I could pick one myself”. He wasn’t going to budge. “You never said anything about that, take it and get out of here!”

I was gone a long time and I was sure my father was going to be pissed. I walked up to the garage where my father was and sure enough he was mad. “Where have you been? He asked. He looked at me and I was a mess, covered with, dirt, dust and sweat, with a pigeon in my hand. “What the hell were you doing? What‘s that?” I told him what had happened. I don’t know that I ever saw my father angrier. When he was done with the car he said to me “Show me the house!” I didn’t want to say anything but I wasn’t about to tell him no.

The man was still in the front yard when we pulled up. He was watering his lawn. He had a look of smug satisfaction on his face and I think that really ticked my father off. The man saw us and he recognized me but he continued to water his lawn. “Wait here!“ my father said to me. He got out of the car and pigeon in hand, made a beeline to the man. My father had a certain way of walking when he was mad. There was no mistaking his anger. The man saw this, dropped the hose and started backing up. My father let him have it. He stopped short of hitting him. My father let go of the bird and I saw the man pull out his wallet and give my father something. My father got back into the car and handed me the ten dollars the man had given him. “Here’s your pay” He said. “”Next time use your head a little”. Lesson learned.

In 1973, when gas was about 35 cents a gallon and a guy could fill up his tank with a few bucks I pulled into the 76 gas station on the corner of Rosemead and Washington Blvds, in Pico Rivera. I only had a few bucks on me. The gas station attendant, a young kid, came up to the window and asked me ”How much?” This was before all the self service gas stations popped up. I said” Two bucks” he put the gas in and came back and said “That’ll be three bucks”. “Three bucks“, I said “I only asked for two!” “Oh, I thought you said three”. He seemed more embarrassed than anything else. “I’m only paying two bucks, that’s all I asked for”

When I got home I saw my father and said “Hey, I got an extra buck’s worth of gas right now” I told him what had happened. I was feeling so good about scoring some extra gas but the look on my father’s face told me that maybe it wasn’t so good. I should have kept my mouth shut. “You stiffed him?” he asked me. “They‘re going to take it out of his pay!” he said. “Well, I only asked for two bucks”.

I went to my room for a while and when I came out later I asked my mom “Hey Mom, where’s dad? “He went to the gas station to pay for the gas that you should have paid for!” She said. ”Her tone of voice said it all. He’s paying for my gas? I only asked for two bucks worth!” I kept insisting. I was feeling lousier by the second. She just shook her head and walked away. I felt myself shrinking away in shame. My father never said a word to me about it and I never brought it up. Lesson learned.

My father was an upholsterer at Landmark Fine Furniture in Los Angeles. He was one of the best in the trade. When things were slow at work he would find customers and do some upholstery work in the garage. He was always working. Once, he was doing a job for some woman in Palm Springs. It was a big job, a sectional, and it turned out to be a lot of work and to top it off my father had misquoted her on the price. He was going to break even and nothing more. My mother kept after him, as any wife would, to call her up and tell her he made a mistake. He wouldn’t hear of it. He had given his word and that was that. He completed the job and the woman was happy with her furniture. My father didn’t skimp on the job. He still gave her his best. Lesson learned.

Sometimes we inadvertently learn a lesson from our fathers. Case in point. It was about 1967 or so and we were on vacation. I can’t remember if we were in Palm Springs or Arizona. We were at a motel. My mother and my brother Dennis and I went to the pool. My mother didn’t swim so she was lying on a chaise lounge soaking up the sun. My brother was three, maybe four years old, so I took him to the kids pool. My father stayed in the room and as always he was either listening to the L.A. Dodgers on the radio or watching them on the TV. There was no pulling him away from a ballgame.

At some point my father came out of the room to get some ice. As he was getting the ice, some woman in a skimpy white bikini came to get some ice too. My father couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Who could blame him? My mother was watching him from the other side of the pool. My father got his ice but never took his eyes off this woman. He walked straight ahead, all the time just watching her.

We saw it coming but it happened so fast there was no stopping it. My father fully clothed and wearing a hat walked straight into the kids pool. From the other side off the pool you could hear my mother laughing with pure joy. The whole place was laughing including the girl in the white bikini. My father shot straight up out of the water in complete shock, holding an ice bucket filled with water and then he just burst out laughing. He was a sight. He was a good sport about it. Several lesson learned here.

Nothing pleases a father more than knowing you were listening to him, paying attention to what he was trying to teach., even the most trivial and mundane things. When I was growing up it was my job to pull the weeds and take care of the yard. My father’s pet peeve was the dirt being left on the roots of the weeds. By the time the trash can was filled it would weigh a ton. He wanted the roots shaken so the dirt would fall off. I rarely shook them.

Years later, in 1978, when Jeri and I moved into our first home in Uptown Whittier on Newlin Avenue, I was working in the yard, pulling weeds of all things. My father stopped by for a visit. We were talking while I was working. I was pulling the weeds, shaking the dirt off and then tossing them into the trash can. “So you were paying attention” He said. I looked up at him and he was smiling. We locked eyes for a few seconds. I smiled back and then continued to pull the weeds. The moment was not lost on me. I learned a hell of a lot more than just the proper way to pull weeds from my father over the years but that moment is locked in my mind. It was symbolic, perhaps, of a son who had learned a few things from his dad.

Happy Father’s Day to all my pals here on 'West Cost Boxing".

Great stuff Randy happy fathers day

Thanks and the same to you Panz!

[Chuck1052]

Randy, that was a great tribute to your dad.

Happy Fathers' Day to all dads!

- Chuck Johnston

[Chuck1052]

According to an article in the June 17, 2010 edition of the Ventura County Star, Joseph Louis Pecora, Fernando Vargas' former business manager, was arrested on Monday (June 14, 2010) for embezzlement and forgery. It was alleged that Pecora stole about $400,000. from Vargas while using various ploys, which included forging Vargas' name on checks.

Pecora allegedly mismanaged Vargas' financial affairs. According to their lawyer, Vargas and his wife estimate that their losses to be in the millions, resulting in moving from their house in Camarillo. The lawyer added, "He thought that he had millions of dollars in the bank, and now he might have to start training to get back in the ring again. He's got a family to support."

Note- It seems that so many former boxers end up broke no matter how much they made during their ring careers. But in fairness to them, I myself don't know very much about finances even though I am a college graduate.

- Chuck Johnston

[CNorkusJr]

Sorry Guys, I was out of the house all day today- Happy Belated Fathers Day to you All. I myself dont have children,but I got a million cousins with their kids and Rosie has brothers, so I have nieces and nephews who jump on me just the same. No future fighters in the bunch though, all very young computer geeks.
Charlie Norkus Jr.

[Rick Farris]

Sorry Guys, I was out of the house all day today- Happy Belated Fathers Day to you All. I myself dont have children,but I got a million cousins with their kids and Rosie has brothers, so I have nieces and nephews who jump on me just the same. No future fighters in the bunch though, all very young computer geeks.
Charlie Norkus Jr.

The future . . .

Charlie, they are better off computor geeks.
People often ask if I can help them get into the technical end of the film industry.
There is no future for anybody under forty doing what I do for a living.
Film making is changing dramatically, and those who want to be a part of it will master the computor.
Boxing? As far as I'm concerned, boxing as we knew it is pretty much gone.

[Panzerfaust]

Theres been so much good writing on this thread, so i thought id give it a go
and share a story of my own.

Remembering My Friend Øystein

When i was 16 or 17 i used to work at a italian resturant(wich I later bought and bankrupted bigtime)
A couple of times a week this retired old sailor would stop by and order 1/2 cup of coffee
and a alcohol free beer . He would sit there for hours and joke and tell tales,Always with a smile on his face.
We became fast friends. I enjoyed the stories he would tell from his sailor days, and i guess he just
needed an audience.

After he retired he had begun to hand make canoos , But by the time i met him his health condition
did not allow him to work much on his canoos(he was allready dying). So I told him id help out when i had some free time
and he started to teach me how to make canoos.

While working on the canoos he opened up and told me about his family . He had three daughters
But the last time he had heard from them was when they cheated him out of his last money.
His grandchildren he had barely seen and understandably it hurt him bad. Somehow he always
kept high spirits though even when he was dancing around the workshop to Frank Sinatra(whom he loved)
I could see the hurt in his eyes.

When i turned 18 i got drafted in the army and went of to serve my conscription and i lost touch with him.
One time when i was home on leave i met him in the resturant i used to work. I sat down ordered a beer and we started talking.
We came to talk about his health condition wich had deterioated much since the last time i saw him and continued
over to religion (Øystein had a very deep belief in God)
By that time i had a few to many beers and started discussing with him and we didnt see eye to eye on that subject in other words we had an arguement.
I could see I hurt him ,but we made a truce and i walked out and went back to the army the next morning.
That was the last time i saw him. I came home a couple of months later and got the word that he had passed.

Now I take the buss past his house from time to time and it gets me thinking of this poor man
and i wonder where he is buried, I never knew his last name or anyone that did.
Now his house is repainted and a new family has moved in .

He taught me alot of lessons on life, through our conversations and through his passing R.I.P

[kikibalt]

Theres been so much good writing on this thread, so i thought id give it a go
and share a story of my own.

Remembering My Friend Øystein

When i was 16 or 17 i used to work at a italian resturant(wich I later bought and bankrupted bigtime)
A couple of times a week this retired old sailor would stop by and order 1/2 cup of coffee
and a alcohol free beer . He would sit there for hours and joke and tell tales,Always with a smile on his face.
We became fast friends. I enjoyed the stories he would tell from his sailor days, and i guess he just
needed an audience.

After he retired he had begun to hand make canoos , But by the time i met him his health condition
did not allow him to work much on his canoos(he was allready dying). So I told him id help out when i had some free time
and he started to teach me how to make canoos.

While working on the canoos he opened up and told me about his family . He had three daughters
But the last time he had heard from them was when they cheated him out of his last money.
His grandchildren he had barely seen and understandably it hurt him bad. Somehow he always
kept high spirits though even when he was dancing around the workshop to Frank Sinatra(whom he loved)
I could see the hurt in his eyes.

When i turned 18 i got drafted in the army and went of to serve my conscription and i lost touch with him.
One time when i was home on leave i met him in the resturant i used to work. I sat down ordered a beer and we started talking.
We came to talk about his health condition wich had deterioated much since the last time i saw him and continued
over to religion (Øystein had a very deep belief in God)
By that time i had a few to many beers and started discussing with him and we didnt see eye to eye on that subject in other words we had an arguement.
I could see I hurt him ,but we made a truce and i walked out and went back to the army the next morning.
That was the last time i saw him. I came home a couple of months later and got the word that he had passed.

Now I take the buss past his house from time to time and it gets me thinking of this poor man
and i wonder where he is buried, I never knew his last name or anyone that did.
Now his house is repainted and a new family has moved in .

He taught me alot of lessons on life, through our conversations and through his passing R.I.P

Great story on your friend Oystein, Panzer.....

[raylawpc]

Last time I saw Chuck Connors, it was in late 1970, at the Olympic, sitting ringside for the Mando Ramos-Raul Rojas fight.
Chuck has a rep in Hollywood, and it's quite contrary to the image one might have of "The Rifleman".

in other words he makes the A hole list.

Wasn't Chuck Connors a ballplayer before he became an actor?

Randy

Chuck Connors was a good all-around athlete. He played for the Boston Celtics in the old Basketball Association of America right after the war. Only one season as I recall. In baseball, he played for numerous minor league teams, and, in the majors played briefly for the Brooklyn Dodgers and the Chicago Cubs. He was also drafted by the Chicago Bears but never played. He was playing baseball with the minor league LA Angels when he entered the motion picture industry.