Classic American West Coast Boxing

[Expug]

Thx Rog
Enjoying all of your writings and art my friend.
Yeah, Derek was definitely not the guy for the part.
Im pretty sure Bogart was in it too but I might be having a senior moment here.
Anyway, good book, not a very good flick. Derek I think came into notoriety later on when he married what the kids nowadays call a "dime".(10). She wasnt his first either.

[Chuck1052]

Faron Young, a Country Music star, had a hit record with a song called "Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young" during the middle 1950s. One lyric in the song was "I want to live fast, love hard, die young and leave beautiful memory."

- Chuck Johnston

[El Gallo]

I will have to pick up the Greb bio for sure. What a fascinating guy and great fighter he was.
The title of the book "Live Fast Die young" was also a line that was in a book about a small time hood that took place in Chicago.
The story was about Nicky Romano who grew up around what was skid row on west madison street.
The book was written by a fellow named Willard Motley back in probably the forties.
Later on it became a movie with John Derek playing the roll of Nicky.The movie wasnt very good but the book is solid. Romano while terrorizing the streets used to say "Live fast Die young and leave a good looking corpse".
Rog, are you familiar with this Chicago novel?
The book is called "Knock on any door".

Pug, John Derek was 23 when he did that film. Long before Ursula Andress, Linda Evans and Bo Derek.
Humphrey Bogart was in that one.

[El Gallo]

Faron Young, a Country Music star, had a hit record with a song called "Live Fast, Love Hard, Die Young" during the middle 1950s. One lyric in the song was "I want to live fast, love hard, die young and leave beautiful memory."

- Chuck Johnston

Guess where he got the idea?

[dagosd2000]

Thx Rog
Enjoying all of your writings and art my friend.
Yeah, Derek was definitely not the guy for the part.
Im pretty sure Bogart was in it too but I might be having a senior moment here.
Anyway, good book, not a very good flick. Derek I think came into notoriety later on when he married what the kids nowadays call a "dime".(10). She wasnt his first either.

Thanks Brian. A better boxing movie with Bogie:The Harder They Fall. His last pic before he died. Jersey Joe Walcott plays the part of a boxing trainer.

[dagosd2000]

Toronto Blues

In May of 1953 Charley Mingus,the great bass player,put together a jazz concert at Massey Hall in Toronto ,Canada.The ensemble consisted of Charlie Parker on alto sax,Dizzy Gillespie on trumpet,Bud Powell on the piano,Max Roach on drums,and Mingus playing the stand up bass. The recording was issued, and then reissued many times. I've seen record jackets refer to the concert as the "greatest jazz concert ever." It was the first time these musicians ever recorded together, and the last .

Unfortunately the concert was booked on the same date as the second Marciano/Walcott fight in Chicago. The fight was postponed once and reset ,non intentionally,on the same date as the the jazz concert. Charley Mingus,the producer of the concert,was hoping for a sell out crowd at Massey Hall,but because of the fight being televised the house was less than half full. The only musician that got his dough was Parker.Everyone was sore,especially Mingus(who had a short fuse anyway).

But there's a side angle to that night. The black musicians were constantly going back stage to hear the fight on the radio. Because of Walcott's good showing against Marciano in Philly,they thought that Jersey Joe would be the first man to regain the heavyweight title. When Rocky won in the first round,the quintet had another reason to gripe.

However the music they made was brilliant. What was a big plus was the sound quality of the tape. I think that's what makes the recording special. A lot of "live recordings" have poor sound quality. Though you can hear the greatness of the musicians,the muffled sound is a drawback. Most live recordings of that genre and era were what they call "phantom recordings." Someone walks into a club with a tape recorder and then takes the recording home to listen to it for his personal enjoyment. Later these recordings have been "discovered" and have been issued. Unfortunately the artists are either dead or the ones that are alive have never been able to cash in on royalties.

So getting back to May,1953 in Toronto."The greatest jazz concert ever" played to a small audience.I suppose those in attendance were more into jazz than boxing. I've got news for you.If any of those cats were alive today,they'd say they probably wanted to be in Chicago that night instead of up on the bandstand.

[dagosd2000]

Trumpet jazz great,"Fats" Navarro. Dead at twenty seven years of age from tuberculosis.

[dagosd2000]

Catfish

Those wiseguys always wanted to do everythng in style.Whether it was going out to a restaurant or a ballgame or buying a suit of clothes,it had to be first class. I remember one time my father took me to a Chicago Cardinal football game at Comiskey Park. The ticket seller put us behind a post. My father went back to that window and walked inside to where he was and grabbed him around the collar and threatened him with "So you put me behind a post.Just for that you're going to comp us two seats on the 50 yard line or you're going to wind up selling match sticks on the corner."
We watched the Cards beat the Giants that Sunday afternoon sitting in two beautifull seats on the 50 yard line. You'd have needed a compass to differentiate from one degree either way of midfield.

Going out to dinner was always at some swank restaurant like the Palmer House. No reservation necessary. No waiting in line with the rest of low ballers. Always ordering the best on the menu. Veal,lobsters,the finest cuts of beef. The best wine in the house. Baked Alska or something similar for dessert. After dinner,a trip to the kitchen and a C note for the chef. Everybody's taken care of.


I never saw my father leave the house without a coat and tie. And for the schmucks who bought their threads off the rack at Robert Hall-well they were what the boys referred to as "catfish." Those losers were a bunch of cheap skates who lived scared and never took chances. Their weekend consisted of sitting on the couch ripping open a TV dinner singing along with Mitch Miller to the dancing ball.They were content with that.

For those Italians who grew up in the Patch in Chicago in the early twenties,it was either take some risk or wind up working yourself to death for some slave lord. Those dagos were just one step above on the pecking order from the blacks. Those big Irish cops loved kicking the crap out those little guinieas. So to avoid all that grief,you showed you had the balls to kick back twice as hard. You formed a group. A gang. You had to show you were tough.Assert yourself.There was no civil service brand rules of being promoted by "step" increases. If you wanted to move up in the Outfit ,you had to show it. Sometimes it meant that the guy above you would lose his senority by winding up buried out in a field.There was a lot of money to be made in the lime business,and I don't mean the fruit.

Like Al Capone used to say,"You can get more with a smile and a gun than just with a smile."

[dagosd2000]

Jazz great,pianist Teddy Wilson. Played in a lot of clubs run by Al Capone. Capone did more for bringing up jazz musicians than anyone at that time. Armstrong,Kid Ory,Bix Beiderbeck,Art Tatum,and Fats Waller to name a few.

[El Gallo]

d

[dagosd2000]

Below The Border

"So Scott,do you have any fights coming up",I asked the kid who was teaching the sparring class at the gym where my grandson Adam worked out.
"I have one coming up on the 28th,"he answered.
Scott was a strapling type who fought kind of crude,but made up for a lot of that with his strength. Gangly,but strong is what I'd call him.
"The 28th is Thanksgiving. Who in the hell is having a card on Thanksgiving?"
"I'm fighting in Guadalajara."
It was a drizzly Friday night.The gym was pretty empty.Four kids were there to spar. All were around Adam's size. In the 120 to 140 range.
"Have you ever fought in Mexico before?"I asked Scott.
"I've never even been to Mexico. Not even Tijuana."
Scott paired the boys off into the two rings. Adam was the youngest at 13.The other boys were in high school. Adam was to start out with the biggest boy who was a southpaw. The buzzer sounded and they touched gloves. The southpaw was stronger than Adam and pressed his advantage. Adam was moving away,but the southpaw knew that his stregnth would make up for a lot. After the round was over,I told Adam to use his right hand more.
"Adam,you need to fight back when he presses you like that. He's a lot stronger than you,but there's nothing we can do about that now."

The boys worked three more rounds. Adam pressed and threw more shots. The bigger kid wasn't bothered by what Adam was throwing. Adam was up against it,but moved in and gave as much as he took. During the last round of sparring the southpaw hooked low and caught Adam below the belt. Adam bent over. He had lost his breath. The other boy apologized. He asked Adam if he wanted to continue. Adam nodded to him to come on. They finished up fighting pretty even. After the workout,the four boys talked to each other as they took their wraps off. I walked away to talk to Scott.
"Who's going to go with you to Mexico?"I asked.
"Sid,the kid who teaches the aerobics class."
"Does he speak Spanish?"
"No."
"Who are you fighting?"
"They're going to tell me when I get there."
The four boys were still talking to each other as they walked by and thanked Scott. I walked to the car with Adam.
"How do you feel,"I asked him.
"I feel alright."
"You caught a low one."
"It's part of what happens,"he said.

I dropped Adam off at his house. As I was driving home,I thought about Scott. I couldn't figure why they wanted to put him in a fight in Guadalajara. I remembered talking to Gaspar Ortega years ago.After he lost his quest for the title against Emile Griffith ,he resumed his career fighting in Mexico. He traveled around the republic fighting in pueblos against the local heroes. Ortega told me about a bout one of those bouts. He was picked up at the airport by some guy and driven to some little town that I can't remember the name. They put him in a hotel room way outside of town that had the bathroom down the hall. The meal he ate the night before the fight made him sick. When he climbed into the ring,the guy who picked him up at the airport was working Gaspar's opponent's corner.

I thought of how many fighters,in boxing history,who were left holding their dicks in their hands like "Indio" Ortega. I thought of what was in store for Scott . I guess it's a part of what happens.

[dagosd2000]

Gaspar Ortega

[El Gallo]

West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame . . .

Boxing writer John Raspanti, who writes for both The Ring Magazine and Doghouse Boxing on-line, will serve as Publicist for the West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame. Mentored by Hall of Fame legend Bill Caplan, Raspanti is one of the finest and most knowledgeable boxing scribes on the planet. Today we discussed our next project. Like myself, John is associated with the Retired Boxers Foundation and has a keen interest in the correct preservation of boxing history and the well being of veteran professional boxers.

[dagosd2000]

Life After Death

Well Whitey Bulger ,I see, is going to die in jail.The Feds finally tracked him down in Santa Monica ,California. He had around a hundred grand in cash and some broad living with him.He's in his 80's so they'll put him with the other old men. He's going to appeal his verdict. Called the trial a "sham." How many guys did he murder? 30. 40. 50. He'll probably spend his time telling all the other old cons stories about the Irish mafia. The guards will be interested too.So will the warden. So will the Feds.If he's smart he'll write a book. He won't have it so bad. Not like Big Al when he went to Alcatraz.

They threw Capone in with the "common criminals." Lowlifers weren't impressed with the boss of bosses. He got in a lot of fights and lost most of them. The disease was eating his brain. They put him in solitary when he went off on one of his syphlitic tirades.When the guards saw him throwing his shit at the other prisoners,it was only a matter of time that he'd go back to his house in Miami Beach. He was nothing. Nothing to the Mob. His wife and son took care of him. Mae,his wife,turned to religion. Sonny,Al's boy,struggled to make ends meet the rest of his life. Al's clout was gone along with the swagger. His brain was so rotten he couldn't even tell his stories of what it was like to be the biggest of the big.

So Whitey you won't have it that bad. You can be somewhat of a celebrity wherever they put you. I wonder if you'll ask to show that movie about you in the recreation center. The one with Jack Nicholson. The one that won Scorcese the Oscar. I wonder if you'll go along with it or say it was all a bunch of bullshit.




Whitey Bulger. Ready to take a permanent vacation.

[dagosd2000]

Shooting Out The Porch Light

The night of March 21st,1928 Diamond Joe Esposito,my grandfather, was walking home from a meeting of the Chicago Hod Carriers Union. Dimey headed up the union. His young wife Carmela was waiting for him on the stoop of their house. Sitting beside her was her nine year old daughter Jeanette. As they saw him walking up the street,two doors down from his house on the corner of Polk and Oakley Boulevards,he was flanked by his two bodyguards,the Varchetti brothers.Jeanette got up and started to run towards him.
"Wait there,"he said. "I want to buy some flowers."
That was his last words. As Diamond Joe approached the flower stand a car pulled up fast to the curb.Two men jumped out of the car with shotguns. The Varchetti brothers dropped to the pavement. Dimey was standing alone. The men with the shotguns started blasting away. Over 50 garlic soaked slugs riddled his body. Dimey,the 19th district alderman.the head of the hod carriers union,the overseer of the Unione Siciliana,the owner of the Bella Napoli restaurant,member of the electoral college, patron to the Genna brothers and their gang,friends with state senator Charles Deneen,Joe Kennedy,and president Calvin Coolidge was gone.Diamond Joe who had tutored Frank Nitti, Paul "The Waiter"Ricca,(RIcca was a waiter at the Bella Napoli),Sam "Mooney"Giancana,Tony "Joe Batters"Accardo,all future dons of the Outfit was gone. It was my grandfather who brought out a young tough from Brooklyn(who my grandfather knew when he lived in New York)named Al Capone to introduce him to the bootlegging racket.

Diamond Joe's funeral was the biggest in Chicago.Bigger than Dion O'Banion's. 40,000 mourners of the Patch,holding umbrellas, stood outside his house on a cold and rainy day . Airplanes dropped roses onto the crowd. Joe's casket cost 10 grand. I have the newspapers from that time. The story was headline news for three days.

After the hysteria was over,my grandfather's fortune was grabbed up by the mob. Capone got my grandfather's diamond ring that he called "The Sun." It was worth 50 g's. Al also wound up with his diamond stickpin that my grandfather called"the Moon." That rock was worth 20 thousand. Diamond Joe's mob retreat at Bass Lake, Indiana was taken over. In a few years my grandmother would give up the Bella Napoli.Worse of all, the estimated 6 million that Diamond Joe had salted away went somewhere.It didn't go to his family.

My grandmother went to Capone to ask why it happened. With a typical mob response he replied."It was a accident." My grandmother asked if Capone could take in her son(my father). She said she couldn't handle him. Al obliged. My father lived with Capone and was a pal to Al's boy,Sonny. Later my grandmother remarried some low level mobster with the last name of Ladera. My father never talked about him much. I never saw the guy because my father at that time was moving up in the organiization and got Ladera deported back to Italy. However, prior to the oust my grandmother gave birth to my uncle Anthony. He took the name of Esposito instead of his father's last name.

Forever after Diamond Joe's death,the family lamented the loss of their patron. It was always the same tune,"Things would have been different if he had lived." . All I know is the family languished. Trying to be like Diamond Joe didn't get them anywhere. By that time all of my grandfather's former underlings were in control of Chicago. Later, my father got in a beef. Lucky he didn't go on a "vacation."The Outfit spread some money around. But that was enough for my mother. We came out to California,but it was only a physical movement. Mentally,my father longed for his pals.

Looking back ,moving out to the Sunshine State was the lesser of two evils. Even though my father couldn't pull himself together out here,he didn't wind up getting whacked or going to jail like those his pals. Only "Joe Batters" Accardo didn't go to prison,but he was constntly hounded in lockstep by the FBI and was always being hauled into in court. It drove him crazy. Honestly,all those guys wantred out at the end. Even Capone. He turned himself in after the Saint Valentines Maasacre serving a year in the slammer in Philly.He felt he was protected there. He couldn't take the heat.

So when Diamond Joe was gunned down the family said their lives where ruined. I don't buy it. Let's face it my father, at least,died in his bedroom from a heart attack. He could have been found floating face down in Lake Michigan.

[scartissue]

Shooting Out The Porch Light

The night of March 21st,1928 Diamond Joe Esposito,my grandfather, was walking home from a meeting of the Chicago Hod Carriers Union. Dimey headed up the union. His young wife Carmela was waiting for him on the stoop of their house. Sitting beside her was her nine year old daughter Jeanette. As they saw him walking up the street,two doors down from his house on the corner of Polk and Oakley Boulevards,he was flanked by his two bodyguards,the Varchetti brothers.Jeanette got up and started to run towards him.
"Wait there,"he said. "I want to buy some flowers."
That was his last words. As Diamond Joe approached the flower stand a car pulled up fast to the curb.Two men jumped out of the car with shotguns. The Varchetti brothers dropped to the pavement. Dimey was standing alone. The men with the shotguns started blasting away. Over 50 garlic soaked slugs riddled his body. Dimey,the 19th district alderman.the head of the hod carriers union,the overseer of the Unione Siciliana,the owner of the Bella Napoli restaurant,member of the electoral college, patron to the Genna brothers and their gang,friends with state senator Charles Deneen,Joe Kennedy,and president Calvin Coolidge was gone.Diamond Joe who had tutored Frank Nitti, Paul "The Waiter"Ricca,(RIcca was a waiter at the Bella Napoli),Sam "Mooney"Giancana,Tony "Joe Batters"Accardo,all future dons of the Outfit was gone. It was my grandfather who brought out a young tough from Brooklyn(who my grandfather knew when he lived in New York)named Al Capone to introduce him to the bootlegging racket.

Diamond Joe's funeral was the biggest in Chicago.Bigger than Dion O'Banion's. 40,000 mourners of the Patch,holding umbrellas, stood outside his house on a cold and rainy day . Airplanes dropped roses onto the crowd. Joe's casket cost 10 grand. I have the newspapers from that time. The story was headline news for three days.

After the hysteria was over,my grandfather's fortune was grabbed up by the mob. Capone got my grandfather's diamond ring that he called "The Sun." It was worth 50 g's. Al also wound up with his diamond stickpin that my grandfather called"the Moon." That rock was worth 20 thousand. Diamond Joe's mob retreat at Bass Lake, Indiana was taken over. In a few years my grandmother would give up the Bella Napoli.Worse of all, the estimated 6 million that Diamond Joe had salted away went somewhere.It didn't go to his family.

My grandmother went to Capone to ask why it happened. With a typical mob response he replied."It was a accident." My grandmother asked if Capone could take in her son(my father). She said she couldn't handle him. Al obliged. My father lived with Capone and was a pal to Al's boy,Sonny. Later my grandmother remarried some low level mobster with the last name of Ladera. My father never talked about him much. I never saw the guy because my father at that time was moving up in the organiization and got Ladera deported back to Italy. However, prior to the oust my grandmother gave birth to my uncle Anthony. He took the name of Esposito instead of his father's last name.

Forever after Diamond Joe's death,the family lamented the loss of their patron. It was always the same tune,"Things would have been different if he had lived." . All I know is the family languished. Trying to be like Diamond Joe didn't get them anywhere. By that time all of my grandfather's former underlings were in control of Chicago. Later, my father got in a beef. Lucky he didn't go on a "vacation."The Outfit spread some money around. But that was enough for my mother. We came out to California,but it was only a physical movement. Mentally,my father longed for his pals.

Looking back ,moving out to the Sunshine State was the lesser of two evils. Even though my father couldn't pull himself together out here,he didn't wind up getting whacked or going to jail like those his pals. Only "Joe Batters" Accardo didn't go to prison,but he was constntly hounded in lockstep by the FBI and was always being hauled into in court. It drove him crazy. Honestly,all those guys wantred out at the end. Even Capone. He turned himself in after the Saint Valentines Maasacre serving a year in the slammer in Philly.He felt he was protected there. He couldn't take the heat.

So when Diamond Joe was gunned down the family said their lives where ruined. I don't buy it. Let's face it my father, at least,died in his bedroom from a heart attack. He could have been found floating face down in Lake Michigan.

These stories fascinate the hell out of me, Rog. I was showing someone that famous pic of Capone at the ballpark with the kid next to him and proudly was able to tell him who that kid really was.

[El Gallo]

Shooting Out The Porch Light

The night of March 21st,1928 Diamond Joe Esposito,my grandfather, was walking home from a meeting of the Chicago Hod Carriers Union. Dimey headed up the union. His young wife Carmela was waiting for him on the stoop of their house. Sitting beside her was her nine year old daughter Jeanette. As they saw him walking up the street,two doors down from his house on the corner of Polk and Oakley Boulevards,he was flanked by his two bodyguards,the Varchetti brothers.Jeanette got up and started to run towards him.
"Wait there,"he said. "I want to buy some flowers."
That was his last words. As Diamond Joe approached the flower stand a car pulled up fast to the curb.Two men jumped out of the car with shotguns. The Varchetti brothers dropped to the pavement. Dimey was standing alone. The men with the shotguns started blasting away. Over 50 garlic soaked slugs riddled his body. Dimey,the 19th district alderman.the head of the hod carriers union,the overseer of the Unione Siciliana,the owner of the Bella Napoli restaurant,member of the electoral college, patron to the Genna brothers and their gang,friends with state senator Charles Deneen,Joe Kennedy,and president Calvin Coolidge was gone.Diamond Joe who had tutored Frank Nitti, Paul "The Waiter"Ricca,(RIcca was a waiter at the Bella Napoli),Sam "Mooney"Giancana,Tony "Joe Batters"Accardo,all future dons of the Outfit was gone. It was my grandfather who brought out a young tough from Brooklyn(who my grandfather knew when he lived in New York)named Al Capone to introduce him to the bootlegging racket.

Diamond Joe's funeral was the biggest in Chicago.Bigger than Dion O'Banion's. 40,000 mourners of the Patch,holding umbrellas, stood outside his house on a cold and rainy day . Airplanes dropped roses onto the crowd. Joe's casket cost 10 grand. I have the newspapers from that time. The story was headline news for three days.

After the hysteria was over,my grandfather's fortune was grabbed up by the mob. Capone got my grandfather's diamond ring that he called "The Sun." It was worth 50 g's. Al also wound up with his diamond stickpin that my grandfather called"the Moon." That rock was worth 20 thousand. Diamond Joe's mob retreat at Bass Lake, Indiana was taken over. In a few years my grandmother would give up the Bella Napoli.Worse of all, the estimated 6 million that Diamond Joe had salted away went somewhere.It didn't go to his family.

My grandmother went to Capone to ask why it happened. With a typical mob response he replied."It was a accident." My grandmother asked if Capone could take in her son(my father). She said she couldn't handle him. Al obliged. My father lived with Capone and was a pal to Al's boy,Sonny. Later my grandmother remarried some low level mobster with the last name of Ladera. My father never talked about him much. I never saw the guy because my father at that time was moving up in the organiization and got Ladera deported back to Italy. However, prior to the oust my grandmother gave birth to my uncle Anthony. He took the name of Esposito instead of his father's last name.

Forever after Diamond Joe's death,the family lamented the loss of their patron. It was always the same tune,"Things would have been different if he had lived." . All I know is the family languished. Trying to be like Diamond Joe didn't get them anywhere. By that time all of my grandfather's former underlings were in control of Chicago. Later, my father got in a beef. Lucky he didn't go on a "vacation."The Outfit spread some money around. But that was enough for my mother. We came out to California,but it was only a physical movement. Mentally,my father longed for his pals.

Looking back ,moving out to the Sunshine State was the lesser of two evils. Even though my father couldn't pull himself together out here,he didn't wind up getting whacked or going to jail like those his pals. Only "Joe Batters" Accardo didn't go to prison,but he was constntly hounded in lockstep by the FBI and was always being hauled into in court. It drove him crazy. Honestly,all those guys wantred out at the end. Even Capone. He turned himself in after the Saint Valentines Maasacre serving a year in the slammer in Philly.He felt he was protected there. He couldn't take the heat.

So when Diamond Joe was gunned down the family said their lives where ruined. I don't buy it. Let's face it my father, at least,died in his bedroom from a heart attack. He could have been found floating face down in Lake Michigan.

Another great story! I have posted it to my Facebook Page and it's already getting great reviews!

[dagosd2000]

Dan,Rick,Thanks

[dagosd2000]

Baby

It was after we moved to California when I remember two guys from back east stopped by to visit my father. I was little then and it was before I knew the story behind my grandfather,Diamond Joe,or what the real reason was why we made the move to the west coast. My father welcomed them at the door with a big hug.It was like it was all planned.One of the guys you could tell wasn't as important.He was always behind the other guy.He hardly spoke a word that afternoon.They both were wearing sharkskin suits and I could tell they were tailored .The guy who didn't talk was wearing dark glasses. All those guys that flew in from back east I could tell were Italian.The main guy didn't look Italian. His silent partner could have been. I remember my father calling the main guy "Longy."

My father and the two other guys sat on the couch.There was a pro football game on the television. My father and I were following it,but when the two guys showed up the attention was shifted to conversation. The talk had nothing to do with football and I was told to play in my room. Meanwhile my mother was cooking in the kitchen. The aroma of the spaghetti sauce boiling from the kitchen filled the living room.It smelled wonderfull.

My father and his friends must have talked for an hour or so. Even if I had stayed in the living room I don't think I would have heard much. They were speaking carefully.After a hour I guess what they needed to talk about was finished because my father told my mother to bring out the food. Everyone sat around the table enjoying the baked lasagna and meatballs my mother had baked. The two guys from back east ate like there was no tomorrow. The quiet guy with the sunglasses would stick his fork in a meatball and put the whole thing in his mouth."Longy" turned to my father. There was splotces of gravy on his tie.
"Joe,this sure beats a corned sandwich,"he laughed.

After eating my father and the two guys went back to the couch. I sat down next to them. I guess the important stuff had been discussed because I wasn't sent away to play in my room.
"You like football?""Longy"asked me.
"Yes,it's my favorite sport,"I answered.
"You have to be pretty tough to be a football player,"said "Longy" laughing a little.
"I can take it,"I said.
"You've got to be able to take it,"said "Longy."
"Longy" then got up from the couch. The game was still going on. I remember the score being tied.
"Well Joe",said "Longy"."when I stop back in Chicago on my way to the east coast,I'll tell Mooney what the deal is."
My father and the two guys from back east hugged each other.
"Come on Knuckles," "Longy said to the quiet one.
As they were walking out the door,my father turned to me.
"You know "Longy" used to go out with Jean Harlow ."
I just stood there. "Longy" broke out into a smile.
"She was quite a gal,"he said. "Everyone called her "Baby."
As my father walked them to their car,I was trying to put together how a guy from back east could take out Jean Harlow.

After my father saw them off about ten minutes later four guys in suits came to the door. I could tell their clothes were bought off the rack. They introduced themselves as FBI agents.They were real friendly. They didn't talk about much with my father. They all sat on the couch after awhile and watched the end of the football game.



Baby

[El Gallo]

Looking forward to Manny Pacquiao laying a beating on Brandon Rios manana!

[dagosd2000]

Jukebox Saturday Night

The Outfit in Chicago controlled the jukebox racket. They controlled the companies that made them and put them in their joints. Jake Guzik oversaw this operation. Collecting the coins from the machines was a way to skim money from the IRS.Big money.

The Outfit also had the juice to put certain artists' records in the machines. This was a good method to reach an audience and launch a career. Often a mobster would have a kid who was a talent and knew he could approach the mob and have his kid's recordings flood the jukebox markets. Mike Laraia,who headed up the public works department in Melrose Park,had a daughter named Carol who could sing a note or two. Laraia ,who was sponsored by the Outfit,made sure mob companies got the majority of work in Melrose Park. When Laraia's daughter cut her first disc,he approached Joe Bulger(Imburgio) the boss of the Unione Siciliana for the OK to have his kid's songs in the machines. Soon after that the girl's records were in every jukebox in the city. However,Laraia convinced his daughter to change her last name. Something easier to pronounce. Today we know her as Carol Lawrence.

With jukebox makers like Wurlitzer being greased and strongarmed by the Outfit just about every box distributed in the country was like a one armed bandit for the mob.The take was into the hundreds of millions a year.

[dagosd2000]

Billie Holiday

[Randyman]

My Father, Green Chile and Duran vs Leonard II

Thirty three years ago today my father came to our home on Newlin Avenue in Whittier for the last time. I remember the date well because this was the day of the Roberto Duran and Sugar Ray Leonard rematch. The fight was taking place at the Superdome in New Orleans.

My father had been suffering from cancer at the time and was not doing well at all. I knew he wanted to see the fight but didn't have ON TV (subscription television). ON TV and Select TV were still a new concept and not every one had it installed in their homes. I told my father that if he wanted to see the fight I would order it. He and I were both big Duran fans and I just knew that regardless of how he felt, he would not want to miss it.

In the early evening my father, mother and my brother Dennis arrived at the house. Also there were some friends of mine that knew my father well. With all the guest and the kids running around, it was a full house. We were all looking forward to a good fight and hopefully another victory for Duran. Duran had already beat Leonard in their first fight, why would we think otherwise?

My father did not have much of an appetite around that time but Jeri and I decided to make some Chile Verde (Green Chile) for him. It was his favorite dish but just making it was not enough. I knew my father well and he believed that no one made Chile Verde like he did, and he was right. The thing is, I learned by watching. I always paid 100% attention when he made it. I was confident I could make it for him, it would be just like eating his own chile. I also wanted to make it with potatoes on the side, a sort of home fries but not quite (nowadays we just call them “grandpa's potatoes”. It was a unique style taught to him by his father (as was the Chile Verde). It was this simple way of cooking that my father loved best. Jeri and I would put our hearts into it for my father.

We ate our dinner informally, in the living room and with tv trays. As I recall, we were watching the undercard while we ate. I'm happy to tell you that my father not only finished his meal but wanted seconds. It was a shock to my mother who had been unable to get him to eat anything. He really enjoyed it and he let us know. It gave us some hope.

It was now time for the main event, Roberto Duran, "Manos de Piedra" (Hands of Stone) vs Sugar Ray Leonard. The die was cast and the stage was set. My dad and all the rest of us were getting anxious. We expected Duran to win, but he was fighting Leonard, and in boxing, as you know, anything could happen. Years later HBO boxing analyst/announcer Larry Merchant would call boxing "The Theater of the Unexpected". Boy was he ever right. Especially on this night. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

First we had to get through the formalities and the introductions. This was made all the easier when the great Ray Charles sang 'America the Beautiful”. I don't believe anyone ever sang it better. That bothered my father though. He could see it giving Leonard some juice. You could see Leonard moving around behind Ray Charles. He looked pumped up and confidant, he was smiling. Duran, by contrast, showed no emotion on his face. The savage panther that paced to and fro was not there.

Duran and Leonard met in the center of the ring and referee Octavio Meyran gave the final instructions. As always when one of my favorite boxers is fighting, especially in a big event, my heart is in my throat. I always get nervous. Howard Cosell, love him or hate him, God rest his soul, was the announcer. Ray Arcel, along with Freddie Brown, were in Duran's corner. Angelo Dundee in Leonard's. The two best fighters in the world backed by the best cornermen loyalty and money could buy. But it wasn't only money that brought everyone there that night. It was a true battle for welterweight supremacy. It didn't get any better, it didn't get any bigger. This was it.

Suddenly the fight was on. It was quiet at first. You could see right way that Leonard was fighting differently. He was feinting and boxing right off. I wasn't worried though, it was still early in the fight but as the rounds went on we could see that this was a different kind of fight. Duran seemed to be a step or two behind Leonard. I felt uncomfortable. My father, God Bless him, was yelling for Duran to pick it up. It was hard for all of us to watch Duran get hit with the sucker bolo punches, harder still to watch him get mocked by Leonard. Duran certainly did as much in his career, so sometimes Karma picks the worst time possible to give it back. You could see the frustration in Duran's eyes. “Stand still and fight me, Cabron”, they seemed to say. Leonard would have none of that. Let me say right here and now to dispel any notion of Leonard being a runner. Leonard was a fighter. He could hit, move side to side, get inside, hit and get out of the way, and he could take it. I wouldn't be an honest fan of the sport of boxing if I said otherwise. He was one of the greats.

Still, going into the eighth round, and despite the fact that Leonard was ahead on points, it was still anybody's fight. Duran was never close to being hurt. There seemed to be a moment of confusion. We all stopped talking and tried to figure out what just happened. It's been shown over the years; on television, Youtube and with countless stories and photos but on that night it unfolded so fast, so damned unexpectedly, everyone was in a state of shock. My father, the entire household, were dumbstruck! They announced that Roberto Duran had just quit. Leonard had won the fight. It was unthinkable.

The ending was a blur. I remember Duran walking away, his hands down and Leonard walking up to Duran and landing a blow but Duran was unfazed by it. He waved his arms and the fight was stopped. Leonard was ecstatic. He jumped up to the ring corner and and threw his hands up in victory. At that moment we knew it was true. Duran quit! That was the long and short of it and try as we might nothing was going to change it. The era of Roberto Duran was over.

My father was disappointed to say the least. We all were. I was hoping Duran would win this one for my father. It didn't happen. Instead it was the worst of all possible scenarios. It was a dark day in boxing if you were a Latino boxing fan. There was no argument to fight back with. No legs to argue with. There was no opportunity to make up a reasonable (however unlikely) excuse.

That was the last time my father visited my home. His cancer worsened and he was in and out of the hospital or home in bed. Either way he was mostly bedridden until his death the following year at the Whittier Hospital, where he finally succumbed to prostate cancer on May 7, 1981.

My father was a boxer in the Army, a featherweight. He was proud of the fact that he remained at 126 pounds all of his life. He believed that the best punch a fighter could possess was a good jab. Everything else worked off the jab. His heavyweight champions were; Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano. He was a boxing fan to the core, a knowledgeable boxing fan.

A side note: my father was still alive when the Leonard vs Tommy Hearns fight was announced. We made a twenty dollar bet on the fight. He thought Hearns would knock out Leonard. He died before the fight. His reasoning's for his picks were sound. Again, it's like Larry Merchant says, Boxing is the Theater of the Unexpected”, to which I would add, so is life.

So you see, whenever I think or hear of Duran and Leonard's second fight, I automatically think of my father.

[Randyman]

Shooting Out The Porch Light

The night of March 21st,1928 Diamond Joe Esposito,my grandfather, was walking home from a meeting of the Chicago Hod Carriers Union. Dimey headed up the union. His young wife Carmela was waiting for him on the stoop of their house. Sitting beside her was her nine year old daughter Jeanette. As they saw him walking up the street,two doors down from his house on the corner of Polk and Oakley Boulevards,he was flanked by his two bodyguards,the Varchetti brothers.Jeanette got up and started to run towards him.
"Wait there,"he said. "I want to buy some flowers."
That was his last words. As Diamond Joe approached the flower stand a car pulled up fast to the curb.Two men jumped out of the car with shotguns. The Varchetti brothers dropped to the pavement. Dimey was standing alone. The men with the shotguns started blasting away. Over 50 garlic soaked slugs riddled his body. Dimey,the 19th district alderman.the head of the hod carriers union,the overseer of the Unione Siciliana,the owner of the Bella Napoli restaurant,member of the electoral college, patron to the Genna brothers and their gang,friends with state senator Charles Deneen,Joe Kennedy,and president Calvin Coolidge was gone.Diamond Joe who had tutored Frank Nitti, Paul "The Waiter"Ricca,(RIcca was a waiter at the Bella Napoli),Sam "Mooney"Giancana,Tony "Joe Batters"Accardo,all future dons of the Outfit was gone. It was my grandfather who brought out a young tough from Brooklyn(who my grandfather knew when he lived in New York)named Al Capone to introduce him to the bootlegging racket.

Diamond Joe's funeral was the biggest in Chicago.Bigger than Dion O'Banion's. 40,000 mourners of the Patch,holding umbrellas, stood outside his house on a cold and rainy day . Airplanes dropped roses onto the crowd. Joe's casket cost 10 grand. I have the newspapers from that time. The story was headline news for three days.

After the hysteria was over,my grandfather's fortune was grabbed up by the mob. Capone got my grandfather's diamond ring that he called "The Sun." It was worth 50 g's. Al also wound up with his diamond stickpin that my grandfather called"the Moon." That rock was worth 20 thousand. Diamond Joe's mob retreat at Bass Lake, Indiana was taken over. In a few years my grandmother would give up the Bella Napoli.Worse of all, the estimated 6 million that Diamond Joe had salted away went somewhere.It didn't go to his family.

My grandmother went to Capone to ask why it happened. With a typical mob response he replied."It was a accident." My grandmother asked if Capone could take in her son(my father). She said she couldn't handle him. Al obliged. My father lived with Capone and was a pal to Al's boy,Sonny. Later my grandmother remarried some low level mobster with the last name of Ladera. My father never talked about him much. I never saw the guy because my father at that time was moving up in the organiization and got Ladera deported back to Italy. However, prior to the oust my grandmother gave birth to my uncle Anthony. He took the name of Esposito instead of his father's last name.

Forever after Diamond Joe's death,the family lamented the loss of their patron. It was always the same tune,"Things would have been different if he had lived." . All I know is the family languished. Trying to be like Diamond Joe didn't get them anywhere. By that time all of my grandfather's former underlings were in control of Chicago. Later, my father got in a beef. Lucky he didn't go on a "vacation."The Outfit spread some money around. But that was enough for my mother. We came out to California,but it was only a physical movement. Mentally,my father longed for his pals.

Looking back ,moving out to the Sunshine State was the lesser of two evils. Even though my father couldn't pull himself together out here,he didn't wind up getting whacked or going to jail like those his pals. Only "Joe Batters" Accardo didn't go to prison,but he was constntly hounded in lockstep by the FBI and was always being hauled into in court. It drove him crazy. Honestly,all those guys wantred out at the end. Even Capone. He turned himself in after the Saint Valentines Maasacre serving a year in the slammer in Philly.He felt he was protected there. He couldn't take the heat.

So when Diamond Joe was gunned down the family said their lives where ruined. I don't buy it. Let's face it my father, at least,died in his bedroom from a heart attack. He could have been found floating face down in Lake Michigan.

Great story Rog! I was living it s I was reading it. authentic stuff!

[Randyman]

Billie Holiday