Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

Extinguished

The other day I mentioned Huffman's Barbeque joint in Southeast San Diego.I had an impromptu lunch with Archie Moore there many years ago.As my memory recalls there was Fargos Barbeque way out on Imperial Avenue and then there was R@M Barbeque next to Battle's Furniture at the end of Imperial Avenue. I knew that Fargos and R@M were no longer around.I don't know why Fargos left the scene. R@M(named after the two old gals that owned the place:Ruth and Martha)had to close doors because the ladies wanted to venture out by the state college area.When they brought the old kitchen fixtures from their old restaurant to use in their new place, the health department said they had to buy all new stuff. Adios Ruth and Martha. That left Huffman's to hold the fort in the hood.

Finding good barbeque has been a quest for me. I visited Dallas in May and asked the black kid behind the front desk at the hotel where I could find a good barbeque place. He recommended Dickey's. I asked him if it was near by so I could walk there(I had no car).He said I could, but I probably would get mugged either going or coming so I asked him to call me a cab. The cab driver,I thought, was taking me for a joy ride winding through a pretty beat up neighborhood. Finally, he pulled up to a small rundown strip mall.There it was,Dickeys.Well once I got out of the cab and started my approach I could tell by the smell that this was going to be an experience. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich layered with polish sausage on a crispy loaf of bread with big chunks of raw onions and a sweet tasty sauce inside. And two sides sides.A creamy cole slaw and mac and cheese.Dessert was pecan pie. I wanted to wrap up the place and bring it back with me on the plane.

When I got back to San Diego the drooling for barbeque began again. I had to get in my car and head out to Huffman's. As I was driving I thought about how you could see the place from afar by the smoke that drifted up from the top of Huffman's roof. They slow cooked their meat.It was what the people called "the stick."Yes,Huffman's was that,"the stick."Huffman's outgunned all the other barbeque joints.A landmark in the area. Not a tourist venue because it was in a tough neighborhood,but that was fine with me.It was all in someone's head if they thought there'd be a problem.Huffman's didn't need any tourists to keep the doors open anyway.The neighborhood kept the place afloat.

Ray Huffman opened his barbeque when he was working at one of the defense plants in San Diego. Eventually,he threw all his weight behind the restaurant because the food was so good that he had no shortage of customers.Huffamn's was down the block from Lincoln High School and that added to the foot traffic.The restaurant was small. Very plain inside. Some tables and chairs. You ordered at the front and sometimes it would take awhile to get your food. I remember the chicken took a little longer,but man it was worth the wait. As you sat at the table waiting, your mouth would be watering.There were some pictures on the wall.Some shots of Ray Huffman posing with M.L, King, Jesse Jackson,Ali,and of course the neighborhood fixture,Archie Moore. All the photographs were taken in the restaurant. You see the black celebraties went to Ray's joint. It was out of respect.

As I cruised up Euclid Boulevard and neared the intersection of Euclid and Imperial and didn't see any smoke. I felt anxiety starting to creep in.Then my woest fears became a reality. Huffman's was closed. All boarded up.I don't kmow what happened. I know Ray Huffman passed away about ten years ago,but it was still going strong.At least I thought it was.Some people in Logan told me that whoever was running the place was staring to cut some corners in recent times.Pasty gravy.The meat was getting a little tougher. The sauce wasn't the same. Less smoke from the roof.

Now there's no more smoke. The flame is gone. Another landmark taken" off the set" without a footprint .But you won't find me at the franchise barbeque restaurant at the mall. The tourists and the "sheep" can chatter noisily as they wait a half an hour in line thinking that they're eating at a "stick."Well,they can take that stick and shove it you know where.






Ray Huffman and the Mongoose

Rog, loved your take on the B-B-Q joints. Very vivid. So vivid i could feel a tightness around my left ventricle after reading what you ate at Dickey's. LOL! When you mentioned 'the smoke' I could only think of some of the BBQ joints here in Chicago that are well known but in a bit of dicey neighborhoods. They too have smoke billowing but that's due to the daily grease fires they're trying to extinguish. Huffman's now, sounded like quite a place.

Dan,I imagine Chi Town still has its good ethnic eateries(Italian,Polish,German,Jewish,and barbeque).San Diego had always been lacking for good ethnic food.Mexican food is everywhere,but what a lot of gringos don't understand that most Mexicans eat off the vendors in the street for original food. There are good Mexican seafood restaurants and carnitas joints,but they are mostly in the older parts of the city where the white folk feel uncomfortable going to for the most part.The government has located a lot of southeast Asians to San Diego so you can get good Thai and Vietnamese food too.But restauarant for restaurant San Diego (for having great weather and on the water)is kind of a dud when it comes to eating out in my opinion.. Lots of tourist traps that offer overpriced and sub par food.The best Italian food I've found is a guy who goes around with a food truck. His name ids Dominic.He's from Milan. He calls his business "Mangia Mangia."He makes the food himself and goes around selling it. He's so popular,he can't keep up. They voted his "Mangia Mangia " number 1 food truck in San Diego. He has dishes like eggplant parmigiana and lobster ravioli.I'll go out to his kitchen and write something up on him and take some pics. I gave him a painting of Rocky Balboa.I can't walk of his joint paying for anything. Ciao,

[dagosd2000]

Tacos El Gordo(the original)best tacos in TJ and the world. Mulas,Carne asada,al pastor,tacos de tripas,lengua,cabeza.They have it all!This place is in a part of TJ that's really showing its wear. The owner opened another two Tacos El Gorgo(one in the Rio part of TJ and another in Chula Vista on the U.S. side). Business is booming,but unfortunately the original place has slowed down a lot,but of the three,it's still my favorite.

[dagosd2000]

When The Spirit Moves You

San Diego has a beautiful area in the city called Balboa Park. It was built to celebrate the opening of the Panama Canal in 1915.Within the grounds is the world famous San Diego Zoo,various museums,gardens,and an organ pavilion that offers free open air concerts during the summer months. These "Twilight Concerts" concerts are every Tuesday,Wednesday,and Thursday and begin around dusk. There is a broad steam of genres that are aimed to adhere to just about everyone's taste in music.Last evening the showcase was Uncle Bob and the Earth Movers.They specialize in Chicago Blues.The band is a local group that's been around for quite some time.I've heard them perform at the county fair,the Martin Luther King Day Festival,PetCo Park...they're well known and very popular. I'd say the musicians are sround my age(60ish) and the lead singer,Lady J,looks like Ella in stature,but wails her pipes like Etta.

Last evening's crowd filled up the seats and the weather was perfect.Lady J walked up to the microphone and warmed the audience up with some down home humor using her husky voice.Then, after introducing the band,she got into the music. A lot of standards like Crosscut Saw and In Old Chicago,and also some songs I'd never heard before.It was all blues,Chicago style. Right away the crowd was into it. People got up and started dancing.The beat was contagious and if you weren't dancing,your foot was tapping and your head moving.What caught me was that everyone was together. There were blacks and whites and Asians and Mexicans and whatever else there was and everyone joined a line dancing together or partnering up. We were all happy.Lady J and the band picked up on the spirit and the back and forth fed on each other growing with every note

I got to thinking.This is a real American thing. This is the energy people in other counties don't have.They're beat doesn't have our energy.It's not geared to the young or makes one feel like he's young.No matter what our country goes through,we have a" let it out" youthfulness that is most easily expressed in our music.It's the most popular music in the world and although it's not Beethoven,it's a sound that makes an opening for all people to feel good about themselves,life,the world.The blues is contagious. The thing about the blues is that it can blow the blues away.


Etta James

[dagosd2000]

A Sign Of The Times

I took my wife and her sister to the airport in Tijuana today so they could catch a flight to Jiquilpan,Michoacan were both of them were born. Well not exactly Jiquilpan.They were born on top of the mountain overlooking Jiquilpan on a ranch in the town of Paredones. I don't think you could call it a town because I don't think 50 people live there anymore.Maybe a village. You see the place is isolated and impoverished and is prey for robbers so just about everybody has left. Juan "The Bull" Diaz,who held one of the lightweight titles, was born there,but his parents got out of Paredones before it got really bad. Anyway I know my wife and sister I don't think will be going there.There's no family left except my wife's godmother who ,if she's still alive ,has got to be well over 100 years of age.

After I dropped them off at the airport I drove around TJ to take in some of the city which is a far cry from resembeling San Diego that's just across the "otro lado".I don't think there's a greater contrast between two burgs sitting on a border like Tijuana and San Diego.They always talk about tearing down the fence that separates the two countries.If that happened Tijuana,with a population of about a million and a half,would scramble over to the U'S. side within the week.It ain't like Canada is south of the U.S.I guess those Canadians got no beef where they're at so they don't have the urge to come runnin' over here.No need for any barriers between Canada and the United States.

I remember back in the 60's,70's,and 80's when Mexico had a slew of fighters wearing a title belt around their waists.Every colonia had a little boxing gym.It was the place to go for a" poor man's out." I saw a lot of kids skip school so they reach the heights of a Chavez or a Olivares in those fight clubs.

Now there aren't as many boxing gyms anymore in TJ. If you see a gym ,it's the MMA/Boxing combo.It's like it's getting to be here.Everyone wants to kick someone in the face.I guess you got to fight "dirty."But Mexico has some pretty good talent in the Mixed Marial Arts area. They've won some gold at the Olympics so a lot of kids are wearing black belts instead of the Lonsdale kind.But there isn't anything wrong with that. Whatever way you go when it comes to legal assault takes desire and a lot of work to reach the top.Too bad so many kids think they can get rich quicker and easier by being a drug trafficker.And that goes for both sides of the border.

[dagosd2000]

Larry "Yogi"Berra

[dagosd2000]

Override


Remembering back as a kid growing up in the Italian part of Chicago on the southwest side,I'd hear discussions about Italian athletes and who was the best.Pretty much so if the guy was Italian he could play ball or punch with the best of them. Even if ,let's say some ballplayer, like the Cub's Phil Cavaretta didn't necessarily scare Warren Spahn off the mound,Dago Phil was more than a match for Spanny any day.Even if he went O for 4.he mnst have made 4 tough outs.You see if you had Italian blood,you were something special. Gifted. Even you could say ,blessed.

I'd hear my uncles getting all worked up with my old man boasting how Marciano was the best heavyweight who ever lived.(He had to be. He never lost).And DiMaggio?Well Mantle couldn't carry his jock.There weren't many Italians that played basketball,but basketball was something that didn't interest the neighborhood.Only if the "vig" was right and the wiseguys could "get" to a player or two.Hockey was another sport on their" pay no mind" list until the Esposito brothers came along and hooked up the Blackhawks.And with that surname everybody on my father's side said they were distant cousins.

But this Italian lineage went even further when it came to wearing a badge of honor. You see if an athlete even had a trace of Italian blood running the course of his veins,that red stuff would override the other plasma that just along for the ride. Here's a pretty good stretch.The southwest side was as territorial as the any of the other sides of the city. If you crossed over where you didn't belong you'd get attention quickly. You could say there was just as much segregation in Chicago as in Mississippi.But it wasn't just a black and white separation. The Italians were at odds with anybody who wasn't "paisan." Call it rivalries or downright racism,the "badda bings"weren't too friendly with outsiders.Now back to the point I wanna' make about this blood issue. IF you had a drop of dago red in your veins you got a pass. For example,Roy Campanella was a real popular athlete with Italians. I think he even outranked Yogi,at least in Chi Town.The way the neighborhood would build him up,you'd think Garibaldi himself was squatting behind home plate.Franco Harris,I remember when he arrived on the scene,was greeted the same way. They were both really more Italian even if that part was just a little drop of blood.So what if they were black?The Italian blood made up for that.

Now Joe Louis and Sugar Ray were just"moolies"and I never heard a nice word about them. Besides,Marciano took care of Louis when the Brown Bomber was at the stage of his career when he was referred to as "Old Joe."And then Basilio gave Robinson a whuppin' when the Sugar Man's legs had long ago lost that sweetness. But let's not argue with those "goombas" unless you wanted to looked at as a defeatist.(Maybe you'd lose a few teeth in the process of your argument.)

No,sports is a touchy subject. It's a macho thing with a macho breed of cat. If you want to play it more safe,you can try saying DeNiro is more Irish than Italian.but I can't see him playing the roll of George M. Cohan in Yankee Doodle Dandy.



That 'ol spaghetti eater himself,Roy Campanella

[DaveyMac]

Say, do any of you West Coast folks have a good picture of Bazooka Limon?

[Chuck1052]

According to Roy Campanella's biography on Wikipedia, his father was the son of Sicilian immigrants, so Campy was at least 50 percent Italian if the information is accurate. I have also read that Campy was called a "half-breed."

If I were to choose between Campy and Yogi Berra as the catcher on my team during the 1940s and 1950s, Yogi would be my choice because he was far most consistent and had a longer career.

Compared to a number of his well-known teammates, Yogi was one stable fellow in his personal life and apparently had a very happy marriage which lasted over 60 years until the recent death of his wife.

- Chuck Johnston

[scartissue]

Say, do any of you West Coast folks have a good picture of Bazooka Limon?

Davey, on the first page of this long-running thread there is a pic of Bazooka against Bobby Chacon. Not a great pic since Bazooka's on the receiving end, but check it out anyway. Also if you want to page through this thread there may be another in there.

[DaveyMac]

Say, do any of you West Coast folks have a good picture of Bazooka Limon?

Davey, on the first page of this long-running thread there is a pic of Bazooka against Bobby Chacon. Not a great pic since Bazooka's on the receiving end, but check it out anyway. Also if you want to page through this thread there may be another in there.

I was amazed I went through 1641 pages of this thread and never found a good one :)

Just hoping maybe someone had one and never posted it.

[dagosd2000]

The Town I Live In


One of my old principals when I was at the high school teaching the class for the kids who were at risk was a Mexican gal who I really took a liking to. She was around ten years older than me and I was in my early fifties.She had kept herself up quite well. She was a button of a thing and always reminded me of the actress Leslie Caron. Dark eyes and a flip haircut.Her name was Christine and she was born in East LA.She lived with her grandmother and her father growing up. Her father owned a bar in Boyle Heights and couldn't stay away from the hooch on either side of the bar. She told me that he would take her with him when he'd tend bar at parties.He'd have her help serve and mix the drinks.She also told me that a lot of the Mexican fighters frequented his bar and that he'd did his best to keep them out of the gym. She remembers her father and Bobby Chacon and Mando Ramos closing up the joint night after night and then leaving in in Mando's convertible with a blond on each arm. .She told me that Jackie McCoy would come in the place and have to beg Ramos to come to the gym instead of quenching his thirst.

That period of Mexican/Chicano boxing during the 60's and 70's was living fight scene life on the cusp.There was plenty of action at venues like the Olympic Auditorium and ,if the gate demanded,at the ballparks. Mickey Davies,one of the matchmakers in the Southland area, told me you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a fighter who could draw a big card.Though I lived in San Diego I'd travel up to LA a few times a year to see some of the big fights. San Diego and Tijuana had plenty going on too,but when it finally came down to a big showdown you could bet the Fabulous Forum would hold house to a fabulous fight.One time I remember going to the Forum to watch Lional Rose,the bantam champ,put it on the line against Chucho Castillo. After the final bell I knew it was close and I kept my fingers crossed the judges would throw the belt to Castillo,but it was Rose's hand that was held up.I almost didn't get out of there alive.

Those were the Golden Days of LA boxing. It's all gone. The venues.The gyms. And of course a lot of the fighters.Art Aragon passed away awhile back. Shortly after,Mando Ramos.Bobby is still with us,but he's a little boy again.Big Red resurfaced,but died from dementia. His brother Danny is looked at carefully by his adoring wife Bonnie.Gato Gonzalez keeps in touch. He's still looking for that "hot prospect."The fighters from below the border are fond memories. Napoles lives in Ciudad Juarez in a very dangerous part of the city(they are pretty much all dangerous).Carlos Slim,the billionare,helps him out. Vicente Saldivar died of cancer.Ruben is still kicking up his heals. Good for him.Oh,there's more of those names I could name. What a great bunch of fighters. They should have fared better. Great memories.

A couple of Fridays ago I cruised Barrio Logan in San Diego. It use to be called just Logan or Logan Heights. That's when it was mostly black. Now it's mostly Mexican. I guess it's Barrio Logan for now.Anyway, as I was living in the past driving through the neighborhood,I saw this little beer/wine joint.The name painted on the building and lit up by a single light was "Rosey's."I thought of my old principal's father's joint so I stooped the car. The place looked about as lonely as the street. Second hand stores.Born Again storefront churches. Tacito shops.Papers lying still by the curb. Not much moving around anywhere.When I got inside there was no one in the place. Only a older Mexican gal behind the bar who looked like she was trying hold on to her looks. Lots of eye shadow and rouge made the desperation stand out even more.I pulled up a stool. the .
"What will you have?"she asked me as she leaned her big tits on the bar showing me her cleavage, I could tell she was held together by pushup bras and corsets to rearrange a body what was once,I imagined, very sexy.
"A Budweiser,"I answered glancing around. The room was dimly lit and the ceiling low.Everything was old looking. There were some advertising signs in Mexican and some faded green,whte,and red streamers hanging from the ceiling.
"You live around here?"she asked as she put the bottle in front of me without a glass.
"No,but my father used to have an office farther down on Logan Avenue."
"So you know the area?"
"I used to come here a lot."
I could tell she was interested in knowing me better by the way she moved those big tits closer to my face.
"Business is slow for me here ever since they opened up the Gaslamp. The men would rather leave and go there."
I fiddled around with the beer bottle.I excused myself and walked to the jukebox.
"What kind of music you got?"
"Take a look."
I couldn't believe to my satisfaction that the songs were those lowrider oldies fro the 60's.The music that drifted around the streets of Long Beach,San Pedro,and Boyle Heights.The music the Mexican kids loved to listen to on Whittier Boulevard.There were some other Mexican songs,mostly corridas,but what caught my eye was the lowrider stuff. I remember when I was first married living in Tijuana in the old Canon Jhonson barrio. These songs were also very popular.Las canciones de los novios.

I saw a lot of songs sung by the Midniters. I always liked their songs. They were very popular back then.I fed the jukebox. I was like the kid in the candy store. So many songs to play. So many memories to stir up.I punched in "The Town I Live In."This song,in a way, exemplified the times. It's not the same times today like it was back then,but the song speaks in the present tense too..Whatever the barrio is,the song is an anthem. A bittersweet song that's eternal.As I listened standing by the jukebox,the gal must have turned up the volume.The sound carried out to the street,but there was nobody there to hear it.

http://youtu.be/rwwM__ZIYSs

The Town I live In-The Midniters

[dagosd2000]

Mr. Inbetween

When you bring up San Diego in a discussion of boxing there are two names that are recognized around the world with fans,Archie Moore and Kenny Norton. Legit Hall Of Famers,they were very popular in a city that played second fiddle to its northern neighbor, Los Angeles.Though both fighters were not born in San Diego,their identity was with this town.Los Angeles,with all the great fighters that made the City of Angeles their base can't boast of two quality big men like Moore and Norton.Jerry Quarry comes close, and I always liked him because he came to fight.But Archie and Kenny were something San Diegans had something to shout about in a town where there haven't been many championship banners hanging in local sport venues. When Moore was finally sent to pasture by Cassius Clay in 1963 there was a void for another big man who had the talent to pack an arena. We pined for the Mongoose..It wasn't until Norton came out of the Marines in the late 60's that San Diego fight fans had another vital fighter over 175 pounds.

However there were some interesting if not mediocre sorts that people paid their hard earned money to see at the old San Diego Coliseum during the lull.I remember ,as do others in this town,the fighter, Ski Goldstein. Like Moore and Norton,he wasn't born here but migrated from the Midwest.He started off his pro career in San Diego and had his way the "so so" pugs they threw in front of him. Ski Goldstein,who wasn't Jewish at all but thought that having a Jewish moniker would jump start his popularity,was starting to get attention in the local papers.But then like it frequently happens,his handlers put him together with a fight in New York, and Ski(who was actually a Pole with a last name that ended in s k I-that's where the Ski came in ),couldn't pass muster. But that was OK with us in San Diego. We really didn't think he could last long with a Frazier or Ali anyway.

I used to see Ski around the local beachfronts a lot. He played Over The Line and would swig beer in all the watering holes in Mission Beach and Pacific Beach. in the meantime he'd lace them up and go to some other guy's hometown and be the "stepping stone." He didn't mind it though. He was having fun and we were having it likewise .Ski will always be associated with being "colorful."

Ski isn't with us anymore.If you talk to the boxing buffs in the Southland they still remember him.If it wasn't always for what he did in the ring,there are plenty of tales about how he enjoyed being the" happy go lucky" that if got as many cheers in the ring as he did when he partied.

[dagosd2000]

Jerry Quarry

[dagosd2000]

Pals

I made the foolish mistake of investing my hard earned dough in sports memorabilia.At the time I thought ,along with a lot of others,that something like a Jose Canseco rookie card would pay for my grandkids' college.With the downturn in the economy and being snookered by all the shills who boasted on TV that if you don't order withuin 5 minutes there won't be anymore "Joe DiMaggio autographed Yankee Clipper "bats left. Well,I admit,to my my good fortune,that I didn't have enough scratch to come up with twenty five hundred bucks to buy one of those timbers. Turns out the faker that was trying to palm his load off paid DiMaggio 900 a bat to put his john Hancock on those bats. Joe made more money wearing out his wrist in three days than he garnished with his career as a Yankee. But what made me content was that phony salesman got stuck with around a thousand of those things and could unload only a handful.Very heartbreaking. Anyway,I've got a ton of cards,bats,programs,and autographs(most of them counterfeit I bet) along with everything imaginable stored in the back of my old Astro Van. I was keeping this stuff in a warehouse that was knocking 22 hundred a month out of my bank account. So at the first of the year I cleared that space out and stashed the contents in the van.

While I was addicted to this hobby of collectables,I made friends with the guy who owned the local sports card store. There aren't many left in San Diego anymore.The business has run its course.A Babe Ruth autograph(there are a lot of phony ones out there)or a Mantle rookie card(there are also a lot of bogus ones in circulation) have held their value,but things like a Bo Jackson rookie card or an A Rod bobble head are better served perhaps by used as fodder lighting your barbeque during the summer.

The other day I get a call from the guy who owns the card shop. His wife is out of town and he wants me to drop by to watch his collection of boxing tapes. I've done this before so I knew what to expect. The guy lives in a dark kind of rundown trailer park. He's anxious to get started and sits me on the couch with the duct tape on the arms.He's got a portfolio of the fights he's got on tapes. A very big collection. But instead of settling down to watch a good fight in its entirety,he puts on film of "one punck KO's" and the "Top 50 fighters of all time." So I sit through 3 houts of watching Marciano putting Walcott to sleep and Sugar Ray being hailed as the greatest P4P.YAWN.

But the thing that wants me to jump through the window watching all this are the Bert Sugars,Steve Fahoods,and Howard Cosells giving their two cents worth on why Muhammad Ali could have outboxed Joe Louis. These "never have played the game know it alls "who are so damn sure that what they opine is gospel makes my head explode. I missed my calling.I can go on as well as these guys,but that's what boxing threads are for. The "experts" who,for whatever reason,didn't get to run their mouths off on the boob tube.

The name of the forum is "Boxers Of The Past."Ever wonder why ex pugs who once wore the title belt very rarely post on the threads?Why would they want to get second guessed by all the "experts",who,for whatever reasons,never reached a seat behind a desk on ESPN.

That's the reason I try to stay on the periphery of the subject.At least I try to.

[dagosd2000]

John Belushi. He could have outboxed Marciano

[dagosd2000]

The Gap

When I worked across the border at that" prepatoria" school coaching American football, there were a few surprises that stuck with me over the years.The school's name was CETY's.I think the letters stood for something like Centro Ensenanza Tecnico and something else.A "prepa" is trhe equivalant of the U.S. high school. CETY's is a school where many of the "aristocracy" in Tijuana send their kids. Since it's a private institution you have to pay,but it's not that much. Maybe a few grand a year. Similar schools in San Diego can run into 20 thousand or more.I'm sure most of the families that enrolled their kids at CETY's could have afforded to shell out the dough at a private school in San Diego,but there were some factors to consider. One,the Mexican school can match any high school in San Diego for the quality of education.The Mexican kids are required to take a tough entrance exam and ,if accepted,8 or 9 courses a semester. The bar is set high and the kids are held accountable. If they don't perform ,they're looking at somewhere else to crack the books. Two,the courses at CETY's are all accredited for entry into the California State University system. Then it's onward to cream of the crop universities like Stanford or Cal Tech.Believe me,most of these CETY's kids can deal with the best schools in the U.S. and the world.

But I was the football coach. Here was a school that didn't have a soccer team,but played pigskin football.In a sad,but typical way,the aristocracy of Mexico doesn't want to be associated with the poor people of Mexico ,and that's mostly everyone else.Again,status is very important in Mexico with the rich.Maybe there's some correlation .The CETY's kids could speak English and all had the proper documents,courtesy of the our State Department to cross to the U.S. side.I remember once when of the kids on the team lost his visa. Well,the director of the school calls the U.S. Embassy in TJ and the next day the director,me,the kid and his parents are sitting in easy chairs in the councilate generals office. He tells us that he played for Duffy Daugherty at Michigan State and before we leave to go home the kid has a new visa and he can cross north to play in the game. You see,we liked to play in the U.S. It was a big status thing. Before I came into the picture CETY's couldn't win up here. In fact the scores were as lopsided as you can get.But what these kids needed was how to play together as a team. In a nutshell,that was the problem. In another shell,it's Mexico's big problem. How,as a country,to work together for the good of the nation. I don't think that will ever happen. Here's a caveat.Although the kids and the families were a bunch of mucky mucks,the teachers got bum pay. The proprietor of the school(there were three campuses.TJ,Ensenada,and Mexicali)was a guy named Jose Fimbres. He owned all the Cali Max super markets in Baja California.The guy was flush with pesos and you can bet U.S. coin,but he was cheap when it came to paying his help.They wanted me to stay on.When I asked them for a raise from my 60 dollars a week,the grocery tycoon threw tomatoes at me.So it was adios after a year.But it was an interesting experience.

After practice,the coaching staff would have coffee and maybe a bite at one of the classier spots on the boulevard. One night we plopped at a table and as we were ordering,I spotted a familiar face.It was a guy sitting alone at a table in the corner of the restaurant.I was sure it was Ruben Olivares. I got up to go to the bathroom so I could walk by the guy to get a better look.He saw me staring and lowered his head a little,but I was even more positive it was El Puas. His face was undeniably the giveaway.I saw him open his mouth a little and then saw the gap between his teeth. It had to be him. He was a lot heavier,but I could not find an error to his facial features that would convince me it was not Olivares. I think he knew that I knew,but he didn't want to reach out. He was alone. What he was doing there was anyone's guess.

I was in Mexico City with my wife when I saw on the TV that Olivares to fight his last fight at the historic Arena Coliseo. It would be a send off.I went to the arena that night with my brother in law. They put Ruben in there with a "mark."It would be a four rounder with a "set up guy."Well, the mayor and the mariachis and Senorita Mexico were there and the old place was packed to the doors. It was the last fight on the card. Before the fight there wee luminaries like Napoles,Joe Medel,and Salvador Sanchez to embrace the former champ in his corner. Even Kid Azteca took a walk across the apron to give him an abrazo.But too much rust and too many cervezas made Ruben look like the stiff that night. I think it was a punch on the shoulder that put him away for the night. The aficianados didn't like that.Like any fallen Mexican hero that embarasses himself,Ruben was serenaded with the "chifles" and pelted with tepid beer.

After faking my bathroom run, I returned to the table with my coaching staff. I had to ask them.
"Isn't that Ruben Olivares sitting over there?"
The group rubbernecked in synch.
"If it is,"one of them remarked,"I wonder if he can read the menu."
The table broke out laughing.
"He looks like an old Indian,"wisecracked another.
"Maybe he'll order using smoke signals,"scoffed a third.
Now they were all trying to outdo each other with the insults.
After they drank 14 cups of coffee without any of the comedians making a move for the check,I waited to see if anyone of them would leave a tip.About as much of a chance as Olivares had with that stumble bum in Mexico City that night.


Rockin' Ruben Olivares

[dagosd2000]

Cleaning House

My wife was going to arrive at the airport in Tijuana yesterday in the late afternoon,but before I was going to meet her there,I wanted to get a painting of mine framed at Esther's Gallery. I've been having my framework done there for years. But when I drove my car inside the parking lot next to her store, the familiar attendant asked me if I was going to Esther's. I nodded, and then he said that the shop was closed for the day. So there went my plan to get the painting mounted.

I told the attendant that I'd park my car in the lot anyway.I thought I'd get a bite to eat and then drive over to the CREA to see if there were any fighters working out in the gym. I walked a block to the Caesar Hotel to get a Caesar salad. The Caesar Hotel is the place, in 20's during Prohibition, where one night the chef ran out of ingredients to make the regular salads and came up with his original concoction to put his own "salad"together from scratch. The eggs,nuts,anchovies(an anchovy paste made with Worcester Sauce),lemon juice,parmesian cheese,and croutons made a dish that is now internationally famous. Of course to make it the right way the waiter mixes it together in front of you like he did for me at my table. As I sat there enjoying the salad with a Pelligrino and fresh baked bread,I couldn't get over how that Italian chef,who lived across the line in San Diego,brainstormed his invention in in this hotel which had seen better days. One of the last landmarks in a town that was the getaway for the rich and famous. Now the Revolution Street area creeps along with few people walking past closed up buildings and lonely arcades. I'm sitting at a table outside under a blown up black and white photograph of Chef Cardini making one of his salads thinking that this spot and the immediate vicinity must have been full of energy. While I was eating ,a drunk at an adjacent table passed out into his food plate and fell to the floor.Two waiters carried him outside to the street.

After finishing my meal ,I ordered an espresso and got lost in my thoughts.When instinct told me to move,I left and drove to the CREA. It was a late afternoon and that's when the fighters usually show up.I can never predict the crowd scene in Tijuana. Sometimes when I expect a long line at the border,the traffic is light.The day was sunny and hot and I expected the athletic fields at the CREA to have a full crowd taking advantage of the facilities.But there were only a few people walking around the track.The boxing gym was just opening up when I got there.The custodian was sweeping up before there were any arrivals. I asked him if he was expecting any fighters. He said he didn't know. He said you can never really predict. I asked him what it cost to join the gym and workout. He surprised me with his answer.It doesn't cost anything. If you bring something like a broom or a mop,something to help clean the place.(towels and detergents are always welcomed)you can workout in the gym. The CREA,where the likes of Mantequilla Napoles,El Puas Olivares,and Julio Cesar Chavez trained and sweated to get in shape for their fights. The gym where all Mexuican know that eventually you have to migrate up to to find the quality of training partners that will get you ready to fight for the big purses in the big venues in the States.

I waited around for awhile,but nobody showed up.No fighters.Nobody. It was just me and the custodian in there on that hot aftrernoon.So I left. I had to get to the airport to pick up my wife.As I was driving,I thought maybe nobody had arrived at the gym yet because they were still at the store buying something to help keep the place in order.

[dagosd2000]

Carlos Zarate

[dagosd2000]

Two

I just got finished watching the movie "Two Women" starring Sophia Loren. It was the first time an actress earned an Academy Award in a foreign language film. The year was 1961. A tour de force.She deserved the award. Of course she was beautifull,but she was also a tremendous actress. Her Italian films showed her best work. Her American films didn't do her justice,but her husband Carlo Ponti told her she needed to learn English and get exposure with American audiences.We loved her here with leading men like Clark Gable and Cary Grant,but the American films were awkward for her.She struggled to "act" in those flicks. When she acted, wirh DeSica directing, it was all so natural. Especially when she costarred with Mastroianni.It wasn't hard for her at all.Three Neopolitans(she was born in Rome but moved to Naples after the war)the triad understood each other.It was spontaneous. They were,in a sense,inside each other's minds. Italians are acting when they are living so you could say the whole country is a stage. Shakespeare got it almost right.

So what is the magic with her films?Some make you laugh.Some make you think.All share the Italian life's language that's philosophical with every syllable. You can see the two sides and those sides have everything in it in life's spectrum. Life is serious,and then it's not so. Whatever inspires the paisan. Whatever pops into his head.Life is much richer if things are unexpected. From second to second life is an adventure.The unexpected is free from control .

When Sophia said that she attributed her success to spaghetti,she was more on target than if she had gone into a soliloquy.I've seen her on TV giving interviews and read her biography. She doesn't paint her life as being melodramatic. She doesn't dwell on suffering. A laugh feels better than a cry even if sometimes something very beautifull can bring tears.Her performance in "Two Women"was that powerful that a tear or two would be appropriate.But then I liked her better in her comedic roles which were also very moving. I think she did also. Like I said she doesn't share her problems with the rest of the world.She doesn't want to burden anyone with her personal issues.Besides,if you tell people your problems half don't care and the other half are glad you have them. I heard Tommy Lasorda say that. He is also fond of spaghetti.



"Life Is Just A Bowl Of Spaghetti" Loren

[dagosd2000]

Jack Dempsey Muscles

I worked with this old guy back when I ran a spray rig for the County Agriculture Department. We'd go along the asphalt roads spraying herbicide on weeds from a platform attached to the side of the truck. We'd be crews of two men. This old timer liked working with me because I'd do all the heavy lifting. Besides,he knew that I'd go along if he wanted to pull over and rest, or stop at a coffee shop.I acquired the coffee habit working civil service.

The old guy called himself "Tiz." His real name was Harold,but everyone except his wife called him "Tiz." It was a name he said his grandmother hung on him.He was near retirement and was pretty much worn out when I got to know him. He referred to himself as "lily white" and was one of those old timers who still combed his hair straight back though he didn't have much left on top to cover his baldness. He wore horned rimmed glasses and was a three pack a day smoker.He complained about all the new wave movement that was against cigarettes because they said smoking was bad for you. He liked to say"we smokers were here first."

Tiz was from Nebraska and joined the army when he was 19.At the time he was in the National Guard.The army kept his guard unit together when they shipped out to North Africa. It was at the Kasserine Pass that those boys got a taste of what a hardened outfit like Rommel and his men were like. After that debacle is when they brought in Patton. But Tiz held up under fire. I saw the medals he got from that battle. One was a Purple Heart.

Tiz didn't like black people and made no bones about it. He was a red neck through and through and proud of it. I never once heard him say anything nice about blacks except for Joe Louis. I guess Louis came out to fight an exhibition at Fort Bragg when Tiz was in boot camp.Tiz said Louis's opposition was his drill sergeant.Tiz said his outfit got quite a laugh seeing the Brown Bomber make their three stripe look foolish.

Tiz also talked about when he was kid on the farm in Nebraska that he saw Jack Dempsey fight an exhibition against one of the local toughs. This was a few years after the second Tunney fight.Tiz thought that Dempsey was the toughest guy he'd ever seen. Tiz always said that if you were tough you must of had "Jack Dempsey muscles."

I remember when I first started going to the fights with my dad in Chicago and watching them on TV. I always marveled at the fighters' physiques. Not an ounce of fat. And those bicep muscles.Those guys had to be strong. I admired the shape those fellas' were in.They were above, in stature, than the football or baseball players.Like Foreman said,boxing is the sport the others aspire to.

My father knew Dempsey's manager Doc Kearns. I met Keeans once when he handled Archie Moore. I was with my dad sitting in the back room of Bob Johnston's bar next to the old Hollywood Burlesque House. I was only ten years old ,but I recall Kearns telling everyone in that back room that he had to be careful with Dempsey. He had to hand pick his opposition.Carpentier,a light heavy,Bill Brennan,not a top notch guy,Billy Miske,who was sick, Firpo who was awkward but should have been awarded the title after the reporters pushed Jack up into the ring,and Tommy Gibbons who couldn't do much damage. And then there was the fight in Toledo. That wasn't the first time Doc laced Jack's gloves for a fight so said his ex manager.

I remember my father telling me that Al Capone had a sit down in my grandfather's Bella Napoli restaurant on Halsted Avenue with Dempsey about the match with Tunney in Chicago.Capone wanted to fix things ,but that never took hold.

But Dempsey was bigger than life during the Roaring 20's along with the Babe,Red Grange,and Man O War.Were they that great?I like to think so. This country is built on legends. Heros are not demeaned like in other countries though there are a lot of rewrite history" kno it alls" that think they can convince otherwise(just look at some of the threads).

One time I filled in for my cousin Frankie on his garbage truck route back in Chicago.I was dumping garbage cans in the Southside when I got jumped by about a dozen of the "brothers."Luckily for me a cop car came along just when I thought it was time to meet my maker.(You'd never see a cop car in the neighborhood unless the damage had already been done and over with).Anyway, while I was on the ground trying to cover up from getting kicked in the head,I kept thinking that I sure could have used a guy like Jack Dempsey to give me an assist.I needed those Jack Dempsey muscles on my side!

[dagosd2000]

King Of New Jersey

So when a young Lou Costello went to the gym in Paterson ,New jersey thinking he might have the goods to become a fighter,he used an alias,"Lou King,"because he didn't want his mother to know he was mixing it up with the pugs.Early on Lou figured he couldn't beat Joe Louis so he got into show business. Lou and his straight man Bud Abbott became the number one comedy act during the war years. Before one of his radio broadcasts for the troops,Lou's only son,Lou Jr. who he nicknamed "Butch",jimmied out one of the slats of his playpen .The toddler then crawled to the pool and fell in. His mother, unaware of what happened, was devastated. Lou was to go on air that night to do his broadcast for the servicemen. No one expected him to perform,but Lou had promised his son that morning that the evening's show was going to be a special gift for him. Lou knew his son was in heaven and went on to do the show because he knew Butch would be listening. The audience was not informed of the tragedy until after the performance. Lana Turner was the guest star that night. The other performers and stage crew knew what had happened that morning though. When Lou opened up with his "HEYYYYY ABBOTT",Turner broke down.After the show Lou was totally spent.

Lou and his wife wanted another child.They wished for a son.They had a little girl they named Patty. Lou and Patty argued a lot while his daughter was growing up.When Abbott and Costello became less interesting than Martin and Lewis,Abbott and Costello made half hour serials for television.The adults gravitated to Martin and Lewis,but the kids grew up with the "Calabrese"and his straight man.They made kids laugh during the early 50's including myself.

Lou had a rheumatic heart.It kept him out of the war. It also shortened his life. In 1959 he was hospitalized. He would never go home again.His daughter Patty went to visit her dad. When she saw her father sitting up being wheeled on a gurney she went ballistic.
"What are you doing with my father?",she screamed at the doctor.

Like Lou wanting to hide the seriousness of his fledgling fight career from his mother,Lou told his daughter that he would be OK. I'll always think of Lou Costello as being a "man's man".He was as tough as it comes. He might have looked like someone less than a John Wayne ,but all those Hollywood sorts are just actors anyway.You never really know.But I know about Lou Costello.He might have acted the clown,but he had what took to stand up and take what came at him.

One time when me and my sisters were little ,we were with our parents at the Del Mar Hotel.It had to be in the late 50's. My parents saw Lou Costello with some friends sitting outside dining. The horses were running at the track and the hotel was full of celebrities..My father told my sister Kathy to walk up to Lou. She looked very cute wearing her lace dress. Well she hesitantly walked up to Lou and stood there with a blank stare. Lou went through all his shenanigans to make her laugh,but she just gawked at him all frozen up.I mean he really wanted to make her laugh.I felt bad for the guy.

But when I look back on Lou Costello I've got to laugh...and I also cry a little.



Lou Costello
http://youtu.be/tciEpuPhJx0

I thought of this song when I wrote this. "A Vucchella" sung by Pavoratti

[dagosd2000]

What's up.I see Tinypic has erased all my images. Anybody know what's up?

Now they're back up.

[scartissue]

Rog, loved your piece on the 'Jack Dempsey muscles'. I could envision Tiz on the roadside puffing away on a Camel. Talking about actual muscles in boxing, dempsey always did look very taut and fighters like a young Louis and Ali had such a well-defined physique with boxing oriented muscles, not like the weight trained or steroid created stuff of today. But I always recall my Dad mentioning Eddie Machen as a fighter who was very heavly muscled. And he was right. There are some cool picks of Eddie out there with a real pair of guns on him. It didn't seem to bother Eddie though. More often than not he was a distance fighter, so he had the stamina to burn. I've done a bit of research on Eddie and he was a hard-luck fighter who came along when things were tough. He'd be covered in world championship belts today.

[dagosd2000]

Will The Real Girly Man Please Stand Up

I started lifting weights in 1962. The Chargers football team had moved down to San Diego from LA.They were the first professional sports team to have an organized weightlifting program. Sid Gillman,the coach,was on the cutting edge when it came to putting together a football team. He opened up the passing game and reared many famous future coaches who learned from the mentor. Al Davis,Chuck Noll,Bill Walsh,and George Allen are just a few names who studied under Gillman.

Gillman also thought lifting weights would benefit his players.At the time when Gillman put his players in the weightroom,I was on the ol' gridiron at Point Loma High School.Our coach,Bennie Edens,thought if weightlifting was good enough for the Chargers,it was good enough for us. The thing was the Chargers and our high school didn't have a weightroom.

But there was a gym located at the foot of Broadway above a record store called Lloyd's Gym. So it was the teens with the pros together in that noisy place above the record store full of sailors blasting away songs on the record players. However,with the exception of Ron Mix,none of those pigskinners had much experience lifting weights. The guy who managed the gym was Mr. San Diego,Ralph Kroger. He was a shade shy of Steve Reeves,the dude who played Hercules in the movies. Mr.San Diego didn't take much stock in football players.We were all weak and Kroger would yell at us displaying an attitude that we were wasting his time.

However,I liked lifting weights. I wanted to be strong and challenged myself to be the strongest guy on the team. In the off season I joined a gym in Ocean Beach and never missed a workout. Back in those days there were no 24 Hour Fitness gyms or spas that catered to women .Gyms were crude structures with lots of Olympic bars and heavy dumb bells.

The gym in Ocean Beach was called Vic's OB Gym .It was an old garage in back of an alley that Vic Gerardi,the owner, renovated into a gym. He had a health food store in the front.It was also a time when there were no GNC vitamin stores.

They were good days looking back on it.We had a steady crew working out in the evening after Vic would close the store. He'd be in there with us.Everyone encouraged the other guy to lift as much as possible. We puished each other. In a way there were similarities to the boxing gyms in town. No room for any negative energy.

One night(I think it was around 1968)Vic came into the gym and announced that Arnold Schwartzenegger was coming to the gym with a friend from Austria.Well, we all knew who Arnold was. It was before he won his string of Mr. Olympia titles that afterward led to his movies,his marriage to Maria Shriver,and being the governor of California.

We knew of him winning all the body building titles in Europe and now he was coming to America to gain his fame and train under the guidance of Joe Gold up in Venice,California.Gold assigned Joe Weider to train him. Much of that training consisted of consuming large amounts of steroids.That was the purpose of his visit to San Diego. Steroids that could be purchased in TJ(though they weren't hard to get here)and supply up on vitamins at the health food stor

Well that night was kind of a disappointment. Arnold took a powder on us and was already at Gold's Gym,but his friend arrived on time.He was a tall lanky dude with rounded shoulders. No genetics for a body builder.Like I said,Arnold was unknown to just about everybody.We knew about him from seeing him in all the body building magazines.I never thought body building was that interesting. It was,certainly,for the narcissist who liked to pose in his bunhuggers in front of mirror and mostly other men.I always thought their egos were bigger than even their biceps.

Well Arnold's buddy came into the gym after buying health food products at the store and talked to us a little. Of course the questions we aimed at him were about Arnold. He went on about how Arnold had his sights on making a name for himself winning the Mr. Olympia as many times as he could. Arnold was no dummy and Joe Gold and Weider knew they had a cash cow that they could parlay into something more than a marblebagger flexing on stage.

I asked Arnold's friend how they were going to earn a living here in the States.In a thick German accent he calmly said that the gay community would approach them and that the two pumpernickels would sell their bodies to their hungry admirers.
"Vee weel let them lick our abdominals and perform other sexual acts on us,"said Arnold's palsy walsy with a straight face.Well slap some mustard on my kraut dog!

After hearing that ,we all looked at each other like maybe we missed something. No,we hadn't. Fritz repeated the optimism and then went on his way up north to be with his big buddy.They must of had lots of saliva on their pecs. Yummy.

Every time after that night at the gym when I'd see Arnold I'd laugh. This guy is one of the biggest fakes in the world.A guy who mainlined steroids to get another two inches on his biceps and shrink his balls into BB's. A guy who didn't go to his father's funeral back in Austria because he was training for Mr. Universe here at Muscle Beach.A guy who shaved his body so he could show off his waterlogged muscles better.A bully and an arrogant pinhead who snookered the people of California to elect him governor. And all he did was make his friends rich. Conan. The Terminator. I dream of a pug like Jerry Quarry pummelling this joke into the ground.

And his ridiculing of calling men who didn't have his musculature "Girly Men."Maybe he got that idea when he looked at himself posing in front of a mirror.


Hasta La Vista Baby Doll

[Chuck1052]

It has been reported that Charley Powell, a former National Football League player and heavyweight who was active during the 1950s and 1960s, has passed away at the age of 81.

- Chuck Johnston