bits and pieces scrapbook
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
I remember reading about Freddie Steele, I'd never heard of him - he was a massive puncher.
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Paul Berlenbach (the "Astoria Assassin"), was born a deaf mute, and remained so until the age of eighteen...then a miraculous event occurred...while working at a disability camp for children, the 18 year old Berlenbach tried to recover a boy's kite stuck at the top of the tree's branches...climbing a pole Berlenbach released the kite from the branches but touched a live electrical wire and was electrocuted, and fell unconscious to the ground...medics were called and worked on Berlenbach frantically and he was revived.
To his amazement his hearing was restored to normal and the 18 year old Berlenbach after a long treatment developed normal speech.
He then became a wrestler, then switched to boxing becoming a LH champion (1925-26) in a golden age of great light-heavyweights all due to a miracle performing a good deed.
To his amazement his hearing was restored to normal and the 18 year old Berlenbach after a long treatment developed normal speech.
He then became a wrestler, then switched to boxing becoming a LH champion (1925-26) in a golden age of great light-heavyweights all due to a miracle performing a good deed.
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misterpunch
- Light Heavyweight
- Posts: 1252
- Joined: 13 Jan 2012, 17:48
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
I'm getting a bit mutton, I might try that!
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
"I'll die before I quit" - Stanley Ketchel
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Jan 2, 1930
23 year old Primo Carnera, the giant Italian future heavyweight champion, had just landed in America to make a bid for the crown left by Gene Tunney and was taking on Al Singer (a future lightweight champion) for a few playful rounds in his New York City gym.
The Italian created quite a sensation on his appearance in New York. He stood six feet seven inches tall, wore a size 17 shoe, a 20" collar and swung a 15-pound cane when he went out for a walk. He tipped the scales at 274 pounds.
23 year old Primo Carnera, the giant Italian future heavyweight champion, had just landed in America to make a bid for the crown left by Gene Tunney and was taking on Al Singer (a future lightweight champion) for a few playful rounds in his New York City gym.
The Italian created quite a sensation on his appearance in New York. He stood six feet seven inches tall, wore a size 17 shoe, a 20" collar and swung a 15-pound cane when he went out for a walk. He tipped the scales at 274 pounds.
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
1918. Jimmy Wilde in training, paced by his wife.
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misterpunch
- Light Heavyweight
- Posts: 1252
- Joined: 13 Jan 2012, 17:48
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
jimmy wilde - the ghost with a bicycle pump in his hand
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
For a portion of his career, King Levinsky, the 1930's American heavyweight, was managed and trained by his sister Lena. Known as "Leapin Lena", she was a colorful character who swore like a sailor, and rooted loudly for her brother during his bouts.
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Nov 22, 1935 - Boston Garden, Boston, Massachusetts
Jack Sharkey KO's Unknown Winston...twice...in the same fight !!
Sharkey's first bout in two years.
He kayoed Winston in the first round after two blows but, as there had been "ugly talk" before of a "fix," the fans surrounded the ring shouting insults. Referee Martin tried to assure them that Winston had tried, which was greeted with louder insults. Sharkey suggested they start the bout all over. Martin consulted with the judges, and a few minutes later permitted the bout to start all over again. The fans returned to their seats. In the second round Sharkey caught Winston with a left to the jaw to floor him for an eight-count. He then slammed him with a right to the jaw and Winston was down for good. The fans booed and went home. The State Boxing Commission then suspended Winston for one year for not giving his "best efforts."
Jack Sharkey KO's Unknown Winston...twice...in the same fight !!
Sharkey's first bout in two years.
He kayoed Winston in the first round after two blows but, as there had been "ugly talk" before of a "fix," the fans surrounded the ring shouting insults. Referee Martin tried to assure them that Winston had tried, which was greeted with louder insults. Sharkey suggested they start the bout all over. Martin consulted with the judges, and a few minutes later permitted the bout to start all over again. The fans returned to their seats. In the second round Sharkey caught Winston with a left to the jaw to floor him for an eight-count. He then slammed him with a right to the jaw and Winston was down for good. The fans booed and went home. The State Boxing Commission then suspended Winston for one year for not giving his "best efforts."
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Jack Sharkey and wife at their home in Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts
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misterpunch
- Light Heavyweight
- Posts: 1252
- Joined: 13 Jan 2012, 17:48
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
I know sharkey wasn't first rate but that's a first rate photograph 
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Nov. 24, 1933 - Madison Square Garden, New York
Tony Canzoneri vs. Kid Chocolate (2nd meeting)
"Tony Canzoneri knocked out Kid Chocolate last night in the most spectacular lightweight battle in a local ring since the night Benny Leonard stopped Richie Mitchell... Before 13,000 wildly excited boxing followers in Madison Square Garden, Chocolate suffered his first knockout loss... A right hand punch finished him after 2 minutes 30 seconds of the second round. But more blood and thunder was crowded into that five and one half minutes than has been seen here in years." (New York Times - Nov. 25).
Tony Canzoneri vs. Kid Chocolate (2nd meeting)
"Tony Canzoneri knocked out Kid Chocolate last night in the most spectacular lightweight battle in a local ring since the night Benny Leonard stopped Richie Mitchell... Before 13,000 wildly excited boxing followers in Madison Square Garden, Chocolate suffered his first knockout loss... A right hand punch finished him after 2 minutes 30 seconds of the second round. But more blood and thunder was crowded into that five and one half minutes than has been seen here in years." (New York Times - Nov. 25).
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
When Sunnyside Gardens finally closed its doors in the mid '70s, a neighborhood in New York City didn't just lose a boxing arena, it laid to rest one of the most glorious eras in all of boxing.
A wrecking ball unceremoniously demolished the famous boxing arena on Queens Boulevard in Queens, New York in December 1977 and in its place a Wendy's was built - a monument to fast-food lovers and salad-bar fanatics but not fight fans. The kitchen is where the ring once was, and the tables are where the seats used to be. Gone are the dressing room and the bar and the bleachers and all those memories that were swept under the carpet like dirt.
The final show was on June 24, 1977 between Ramon Ranquello and Bob Smith, a couple of out-of-towners from Jersey City and Natchez, Miss. with no connection to New York, maybe 400 fans in the audience, and no clue that the place was about to be replaced by a restaurant whose slogan used to be "Where's the beef?"
"It was a great atmosphere. You could die of lung cancer there," said Bobby Cassidy, a middleweight contender who fought there 26 times and reportedly holds the record for main events at Sunnyside. "I went back there years ago. I parked my car under the El and just walked around the neighborhood. The Chinese restaurant was still there next door. My god, it brought back memories. I never went into the Wendy's, though, couldn't do it. Life goes on, but it hurts a little that they tore it down- all those memories."
Sunnyside was never given a proper burial and closed abruptly when Vic Manni and Nick Annest, a pair of local promoters entrusted with the keys to the building, became the centerpiece of a police investigation concerning gambling in connection with a local synagogue.
By that time the neighborhood rivalries were drying up anyway. People were leaving the city for the suburbs. The gimmicks that matched a police officer against a firefighter were drawing flies, and publicity stunts such as camera night, in which fans could have their picture taken with a famous fighter, were no longer gate attractions.
As a result, the promoters feebly resorted to gambling to pay off the $8,000-a-month rent and their operation was subsequently closed. With that, the guillotine came down on an era that once boasted around 20 fight clubs in New York - almost a show every night - and a boxing scene that was so healthy it seemed it would last forever.
"Sunnyside was the last of the real small, self-sustaining fight clubs," said boxing historian and matchmaker Don Majeski. "After it left, that was it."
Sunnyside was a mythical place, full of charm and imagination, women and cigar smoke and, best of all, fights. Dozens of world champions fought there on their way to bigger paydays at Madison Square Garden, guys like Tony Canzoneri, Floyd Patterson, Vito Antuofermo, Eddie Gregory, later known as Eddie Mustafa Muhammad. Gerry Cooney turned pro there. Heavyweight Bobby Mashburn, who fought Larry Holmes and Ken Norton and was the father of the New Orleans Hornets' Jamal Mashburn of the NBA, appeared at Sunnyside.
"Sunnyside Gardens is an ugly, red-brick relic tucked beneath a trestle for the Flushing line on Queens Boulevard, fighting for survival in a dormant sport," is how Bill Verigan of the Daily News described it on May 11, 1972.
Built in 1926 as a ritzy tennis club by millionaire Jay Goulds, Sunnyside developed into a sanctuary for activities such as wrestling, karate, arm wrestling, bingo nights and eventually boxing when it was sold in 1945. Before then, if you wanted to see a fight you went to Queensboro Arena next to the Queens Plaza station. Primo Carnera headlined there before the wooden stadium was torn down the '40s and Sunnyside became the gathering place for the discriminating sports fan where men recently returned from the service met their wives in the wooden bleachers and businessmen had a drink at the bar in the lobby.
Gamblers in fedoras huddled outside with bookmakers placing bets, and fans couldn't peek into the referee's scorecard before they made a wager like they could in the balcony at St. Nicholas Arena. A seafood restaurant across the street was the pre-fight destination and the neighboring bars like the Merry-Go-Round and Escape were the spots you hit after the fight.
Young kids lucky enough to find seats at the arena stole peaks of what their parents were doing when they weren't at home.
"I was old enough to go to my father's fights, and I was in the audience when a riot broke out," said Bobby Cassidy Jr., a writer for Newsday and son of the middleweight contender. "This fighter named Bobby O'Brien, who was a cop, was in the audience that night; he wasn't fighting and someone just cold-cocked him. He just starts knocking people out, and I'm a 10-year-old kid watching all this."
Sunnyside was around for the confluence of Spanish immigrants in the '50s and '60s who moved into the area and helped fuel famous rivalries, all chronicled in papers like La Prensa and the Long Island Star-Journal that people still talk about today.
A matchmaker at Sunnyside Gardens in the '60s, Gene Moore, now 70, never hesitated to square off fighters with divergent ethnicities. Then he crossed his fingers that the enthusiasm wouldn't boil over into bedlam. When "Irish" Bobby Cassidy Sr. fought Carmelo Martinez, a riot ensued after the decision was announced.
"The place was packed to the pillars with Puerto Ricans and my Irish crew," said Cassidy Sr., "In the seventh round he dropped me. I came back to the corner and my trainer, Jimmy Glenn, slapped me. That was the first time a trainer had ever slapped me before. I came back in the eighth round and landed some heavy shots and he was walking around like a cripple. He was wobbling around and his foot kept kicking up in the air. People were throwing chairs and tossing things into the ring after I won the decision."
The kids who belonged to neighborhood gangs, like Henny Wallitsch ("If you missed me with a punch, I was mad"), a member of the Midnight Boys, trained at local gyms and became instant celebrities at Sunnyside for their neighborhood wars and ability to sell tickets.
"Me and Bobby Halpern had a bloodbath there," said Wallitsch, "They had to move the ringside seats two rows back because of the mess. The Daily News said that it was the greatest fight in the last 20 years."
There was never a dull moment at Sunnyside. The 1965 blackout canceled a show that three busloads of fans from East Rockaway, L.I. came to see.
When the promoter, a vaudevillian character named Broadway George Albert, a retired milliner who always had a cigar in his mouth, booked the same fighters the following week, the fans never came back.
To help brunt the occasional unsuccessful promotion, Madison Square Garden subsidized Sunnyside with $500 a week during Albert's seven-year reign in the '60s. Duke Stephano, Albert's matchmaker, was Teddy Brenner's assistant at the real Garden in Manhattan, and fighters who consistently won at Sunnyside were promoted to the Mecca in Manhattan. Garden publicity chief, John Condon, handled Sunnyside's press for free. General admission was $4, ringside was $8 and it cost roughly $5,000 to put on a fight. If the promoter made a $100 profit, it was considered a moderate success.
"It was a great place," said Howie Albert, George's son who co-managed former welterweight and middleweight champion Emile Griffith. "There wasn't a bad seat in the house. I drive by the place now, and I have tears in my eyes, even though I like Wendy's. There were so many nice times there."
"Before television (changed the way boxing is operated), Sunnyside was the minor leagues of the sport," said Daily News cartoonist, Bill Gallo, who grew up in Astoria and whose father covered fights at Sunnyside for the New York Sun. "It was a popular place, and managers would come from overseas just to try their fighters out at Sunnyside. Some of them became stars, some of them didn't, but Sunnyside was a fun place to be."
Today, Sunnyside is a special word, spoken at Ring 8 meetings in Long Island City at Tony Mazzarella's Waterfront Crabhouse and at New Jersey Hall of Fame gatherings, kept alive in fight posters and ticket stubs.
To old-timers whose memories of their fights are as sharp as a diamond stud, Sunnyside Gardens is a living, breathing entity, capable of turning grown men into hyperactive kids suddenly walking along Steinway Street to the Red Door Bar, not a care in the world following a tough fight at Sunnyside, as Bobby Bartels, a popular welterweight from Astoria in the mid '50s did on more than one occasion. Those were the days.
(by Mitch Abramson)
A wrecking ball unceremoniously demolished the famous boxing arena on Queens Boulevard in Queens, New York in December 1977 and in its place a Wendy's was built - a monument to fast-food lovers and salad-bar fanatics but not fight fans. The kitchen is where the ring once was, and the tables are where the seats used to be. Gone are the dressing room and the bar and the bleachers and all those memories that were swept under the carpet like dirt.
The final show was on June 24, 1977 between Ramon Ranquello and Bob Smith, a couple of out-of-towners from Jersey City and Natchez, Miss. with no connection to New York, maybe 400 fans in the audience, and no clue that the place was about to be replaced by a restaurant whose slogan used to be "Where's the beef?"
"It was a great atmosphere. You could die of lung cancer there," said Bobby Cassidy, a middleweight contender who fought there 26 times and reportedly holds the record for main events at Sunnyside. "I went back there years ago. I parked my car under the El and just walked around the neighborhood. The Chinese restaurant was still there next door. My god, it brought back memories. I never went into the Wendy's, though, couldn't do it. Life goes on, but it hurts a little that they tore it down- all those memories."
Sunnyside was never given a proper burial and closed abruptly when Vic Manni and Nick Annest, a pair of local promoters entrusted with the keys to the building, became the centerpiece of a police investigation concerning gambling in connection with a local synagogue.
By that time the neighborhood rivalries were drying up anyway. People were leaving the city for the suburbs. The gimmicks that matched a police officer against a firefighter were drawing flies, and publicity stunts such as camera night, in which fans could have their picture taken with a famous fighter, were no longer gate attractions.
As a result, the promoters feebly resorted to gambling to pay off the $8,000-a-month rent and their operation was subsequently closed. With that, the guillotine came down on an era that once boasted around 20 fight clubs in New York - almost a show every night - and a boxing scene that was so healthy it seemed it would last forever.
"Sunnyside was the last of the real small, self-sustaining fight clubs," said boxing historian and matchmaker Don Majeski. "After it left, that was it."
Sunnyside was a mythical place, full of charm and imagination, women and cigar smoke and, best of all, fights. Dozens of world champions fought there on their way to bigger paydays at Madison Square Garden, guys like Tony Canzoneri, Floyd Patterson, Vito Antuofermo, Eddie Gregory, later known as Eddie Mustafa Muhammad. Gerry Cooney turned pro there. Heavyweight Bobby Mashburn, who fought Larry Holmes and Ken Norton and was the father of the New Orleans Hornets' Jamal Mashburn of the NBA, appeared at Sunnyside.
"Sunnyside Gardens is an ugly, red-brick relic tucked beneath a trestle for the Flushing line on Queens Boulevard, fighting for survival in a dormant sport," is how Bill Verigan of the Daily News described it on May 11, 1972.
Built in 1926 as a ritzy tennis club by millionaire Jay Goulds, Sunnyside developed into a sanctuary for activities such as wrestling, karate, arm wrestling, bingo nights and eventually boxing when it was sold in 1945. Before then, if you wanted to see a fight you went to Queensboro Arena next to the Queens Plaza station. Primo Carnera headlined there before the wooden stadium was torn down the '40s and Sunnyside became the gathering place for the discriminating sports fan where men recently returned from the service met their wives in the wooden bleachers and businessmen had a drink at the bar in the lobby.
Gamblers in fedoras huddled outside with bookmakers placing bets, and fans couldn't peek into the referee's scorecard before they made a wager like they could in the balcony at St. Nicholas Arena. A seafood restaurant across the street was the pre-fight destination and the neighboring bars like the Merry-Go-Round and Escape were the spots you hit after the fight.
Young kids lucky enough to find seats at the arena stole peaks of what their parents were doing when they weren't at home.
"I was old enough to go to my father's fights, and I was in the audience when a riot broke out," said Bobby Cassidy Jr., a writer for Newsday and son of the middleweight contender. "This fighter named Bobby O'Brien, who was a cop, was in the audience that night; he wasn't fighting and someone just cold-cocked him. He just starts knocking people out, and I'm a 10-year-old kid watching all this."
Sunnyside was around for the confluence of Spanish immigrants in the '50s and '60s who moved into the area and helped fuel famous rivalries, all chronicled in papers like La Prensa and the Long Island Star-Journal that people still talk about today.
A matchmaker at Sunnyside Gardens in the '60s, Gene Moore, now 70, never hesitated to square off fighters with divergent ethnicities. Then he crossed his fingers that the enthusiasm wouldn't boil over into bedlam. When "Irish" Bobby Cassidy Sr. fought Carmelo Martinez, a riot ensued after the decision was announced.
"The place was packed to the pillars with Puerto Ricans and my Irish crew," said Cassidy Sr., "In the seventh round he dropped me. I came back to the corner and my trainer, Jimmy Glenn, slapped me. That was the first time a trainer had ever slapped me before. I came back in the eighth round and landed some heavy shots and he was walking around like a cripple. He was wobbling around and his foot kept kicking up in the air. People were throwing chairs and tossing things into the ring after I won the decision."
The kids who belonged to neighborhood gangs, like Henny Wallitsch ("If you missed me with a punch, I was mad"), a member of the Midnight Boys, trained at local gyms and became instant celebrities at Sunnyside for their neighborhood wars and ability to sell tickets.
"Me and Bobby Halpern had a bloodbath there," said Wallitsch, "They had to move the ringside seats two rows back because of the mess. The Daily News said that it was the greatest fight in the last 20 years."
There was never a dull moment at Sunnyside. The 1965 blackout canceled a show that three busloads of fans from East Rockaway, L.I. came to see.
When the promoter, a vaudevillian character named Broadway George Albert, a retired milliner who always had a cigar in his mouth, booked the same fighters the following week, the fans never came back.
To help brunt the occasional unsuccessful promotion, Madison Square Garden subsidized Sunnyside with $500 a week during Albert's seven-year reign in the '60s. Duke Stephano, Albert's matchmaker, was Teddy Brenner's assistant at the real Garden in Manhattan, and fighters who consistently won at Sunnyside were promoted to the Mecca in Manhattan. Garden publicity chief, John Condon, handled Sunnyside's press for free. General admission was $4, ringside was $8 and it cost roughly $5,000 to put on a fight. If the promoter made a $100 profit, it was considered a moderate success.
"It was a great place," said Howie Albert, George's son who co-managed former welterweight and middleweight champion Emile Griffith. "There wasn't a bad seat in the house. I drive by the place now, and I have tears in my eyes, even though I like Wendy's. There were so many nice times there."
"Before television (changed the way boxing is operated), Sunnyside was the minor leagues of the sport," said Daily News cartoonist, Bill Gallo, who grew up in Astoria and whose father covered fights at Sunnyside for the New York Sun. "It was a popular place, and managers would come from overseas just to try their fighters out at Sunnyside. Some of them became stars, some of them didn't, but Sunnyside was a fun place to be."
Today, Sunnyside is a special word, spoken at Ring 8 meetings in Long Island City at Tony Mazzarella's Waterfront Crabhouse and at New Jersey Hall of Fame gatherings, kept alive in fight posters and ticket stubs.
To old-timers whose memories of their fights are as sharp as a diamond stud, Sunnyside Gardens is a living, breathing entity, capable of turning grown men into hyperactive kids suddenly walking along Steinway Street to the Red Door Bar, not a care in the world following a tough fight at Sunnyside, as Bobby Bartels, a popular welterweight from Astoria in the mid '50s did on more than one occasion. Those were the days.
(by Mitch Abramson)
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
August 31, 1908
One week from now Stanley Ketchel and Billy Papke will fight for the world middleweight championship in Los Angeles.
The fight will be at Jim Jeffries' boxing club, and Jeffries himself will referee.
The populace of L.A. have, in the words of sportwriter H.M. Walker, "gone fight crazy!" At Ketchel's camp, the entrance gates were literally smashed to pieces under the onslaught of between six and seven thousands fans wanting to see him work out. Papke's camp was similarly thronged, with a reported four thousand spectators.
(LA Examiner)
One week from now Stanley Ketchel and Billy Papke will fight for the world middleweight championship in Los Angeles.
The fight will be at Jim Jeffries' boxing club, and Jeffries himself will referee.
The populace of L.A. have, in the words of sportwriter H.M. Walker, "gone fight crazy!" At Ketchel's camp, the entrance gates were literally smashed to pieces under the onslaught of between six and seven thousands fans wanting to see him work out. Papke's camp was similarly thronged, with a reported four thousand spectators.
(LA Examiner)
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
Holley Mims
It is written that his fight with a prime Sugar Ray Robinson was a points win for Ray but "..there were scattered boos when the decision was announced" with him cutting Ray over the left eye.....he also beat (an albeit young) future WBA heavyweight champ Jimmy Ellis...lost to Hurricane Carter on points but not before flooring Carter...lost a very tight decision on paper to Dick Tiger (one judge had it a draw)...he beat Johnny Bratton twice...and lost to Joey Giardello on a split decision.
..and after what was to some a dubious split points defeat, when he was an old fighter at that stage, against Joey Archer, he said afterwards - "That's OK with me, I beat Archer even if I didn't get the decision. But that's an old story with me." (A poll of 14 boxing writers had 8 scoring it for Mims, 5 scoring for Archer and 1 called it a draw)
...............................................
"Joey Giardello, blood gushing from a slashed face, thrust himself into the middleweight sweepstakes Wednesday night with a heroic finish that gained him a 10 round split decision over Holly Mims. Giardello rallied from a beating in the 8th round and won the verdict in the nationally televised slugfest. Mims opened a slight cut over Giardello's left eye in the 1st but really tore a gash on the right side of Joey's face in the furious 8th. A left-right hurt Giardello early in the session and a jolting left buckled him near the end. But Giardello, who had to win to stay in the running for the middleweight title stripped from Ray Robinson by the NBA, held off Mims in the 9th and won the chips-down 10th on all three cards." -Associated Press
..................................................
1962.
Rubin Carter was scheduled to meet Gomeo Brennan, but Brennan withdrew the day of the fight due to an illness. Mims accepted the bout at 3:00 p.m. and flew from Washington D.C. to New York City. At 6:30 p.m., Mims passed a physical examination and was cleared to fight.
Carter was a 4-1 favorite.
Mims, who had been fighting since 1948, had only been floored by Sugar Ray Robinson in 1951 and Charley Green in 1955.
Mims floored Carter in the fourth round with a right to the chin. Carter went down on one knee and jumped up at the count of one.
Sugar Ray Robinson, who outpointed Mims in 1951, was in the audience.
It is written that his fight with a prime Sugar Ray Robinson was a points win for Ray but "..there were scattered boos when the decision was announced" with him cutting Ray over the left eye.....he also beat (an albeit young) future WBA heavyweight champ Jimmy Ellis...lost to Hurricane Carter on points but not before flooring Carter...lost a very tight decision on paper to Dick Tiger (one judge had it a draw)...he beat Johnny Bratton twice...and lost to Joey Giardello on a split decision.
..and after what was to some a dubious split points defeat, when he was an old fighter at that stage, against Joey Archer, he said afterwards - "That's OK with me, I beat Archer even if I didn't get the decision. But that's an old story with me." (A poll of 14 boxing writers had 8 scoring it for Mims, 5 scoring for Archer and 1 called it a draw)
...............................................
"Joey Giardello, blood gushing from a slashed face, thrust himself into the middleweight sweepstakes Wednesday night with a heroic finish that gained him a 10 round split decision over Holly Mims. Giardello rallied from a beating in the 8th round and won the verdict in the nationally televised slugfest. Mims opened a slight cut over Giardello's left eye in the 1st but really tore a gash on the right side of Joey's face in the furious 8th. A left-right hurt Giardello early in the session and a jolting left buckled him near the end. But Giardello, who had to win to stay in the running for the middleweight title stripped from Ray Robinson by the NBA, held off Mims in the 9th and won the chips-down 10th on all three cards." -Associated Press
..................................................
1962.
Rubin Carter was scheduled to meet Gomeo Brennan, but Brennan withdrew the day of the fight due to an illness. Mims accepted the bout at 3:00 p.m. and flew from Washington D.C. to New York City. At 6:30 p.m., Mims passed a physical examination and was cleared to fight.
Carter was a 4-1 favorite.
Mims, who had been fighting since 1948, had only been floored by Sugar Ray Robinson in 1951 and Charley Green in 1955.
Mims floored Carter in the fourth round with a right to the chin. Carter went down on one knee and jumped up at the count of one.
Sugar Ray Robinson, who outpointed Mims in 1951, was in the audience.
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misterpunch
- Light Heavyweight
- Posts: 1252
- Joined: 13 Jan 2012, 17:48
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
the great holly mims - got some rum decisions against him but deserves to be hailed as a up there with the best
Re: bits and pieces scrapbook
April 4, 1963 - Tokyo, Japan
The 10,000 wildly partisan fans in Kutamae Sumo Arena shrieked encouragement to their little hero, Katsutoshi Aoki. For two rounds, the 20-year-old Japanese challenger had been battering bantamweight champion Eder Jofre with punishing rights and lefts, pinning him against the ropes with flurries of blows. Waiting tensely during the rest period, anxious ringsiders with cameras poised stood ready to capture every detail of what appeared to be a staggering upset in the making.
Jofre, who had just squeezed under the 118-pound limit, moved out cautiously as the bell sounded for the third and for about a minute the challenger continued to rip into him. Then the flashy Brazilian started stepping up the pace. This was more like him. Aoki, 117 3/4, sensed the change and tried to pour it on.
Suddenly, Jofre nailed him with a booming left that sent him crashing to the canvas. The punch was a beauty. It traveled only a few inches but Jofre followed through with a wide sweeping motion - like a pitcher whipping a fireball across the plate. Getting up groggily at the count of five, the surprised Japanese wobbled on rubbery legs while taking the mandatory eight-count and threw a couple of feeble blows at Jofre's head. Stepping back, the champ carefully measured his foe and crumpled him with another sledge-hammer left to the side. The blow knocked the last puff of steam from the game challenger and he was counted out at 2:12.
The spectators sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, then rose to their feet in a frenzy - showering the ring with seat cushions in typical Oriental tribute to a great champion. It was the champion's 14th straight kayo and his sixth defense of the title.
Recovering rapidly from his punishment, the resilient young Japanese shrugged his thin shoulders in disappointment. Later he said he had felt the first knockdown punch, "but I didn't know what hit me the second time. That man has a terrific punch."
(by Tony Petronella)
The 10,000 wildly partisan fans in Kutamae Sumo Arena shrieked encouragement to their little hero, Katsutoshi Aoki. For two rounds, the 20-year-old Japanese challenger had been battering bantamweight champion Eder Jofre with punishing rights and lefts, pinning him against the ropes with flurries of blows. Waiting tensely during the rest period, anxious ringsiders with cameras poised stood ready to capture every detail of what appeared to be a staggering upset in the making.
Jofre, who had just squeezed under the 118-pound limit, moved out cautiously as the bell sounded for the third and for about a minute the challenger continued to rip into him. Then the flashy Brazilian started stepping up the pace. This was more like him. Aoki, 117 3/4, sensed the change and tried to pour it on.
Suddenly, Jofre nailed him with a booming left that sent him crashing to the canvas. The punch was a beauty. It traveled only a few inches but Jofre followed through with a wide sweeping motion - like a pitcher whipping a fireball across the plate. Getting up groggily at the count of five, the surprised Japanese wobbled on rubbery legs while taking the mandatory eight-count and threw a couple of feeble blows at Jofre's head. Stepping back, the champ carefully measured his foe and crumpled him with another sledge-hammer left to the side. The blow knocked the last puff of steam from the game challenger and he was counted out at 2:12.
The spectators sat in stunned silence for a few seconds, then rose to their feet in a frenzy - showering the ring with seat cushions in typical Oriental tribute to a great champion. It was the champion's 14th straight kayo and his sixth defense of the title.
Recovering rapidly from his punishment, the resilient young Japanese shrugged his thin shoulders in disappointment. Later he said he had felt the first knockdown punch, "but I didn't know what hit me the second time. That man has a terrific punch."
(by Tony Petronella)