Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

The local Mariachis in my wife's hometown. Jiquilpan,Michoacan

My invitation must've been lost in the mail!

I know it's a Mexican custom to bring friends to a party,but maybe next time.

[dagosd2000]

Heavy Hands

Archie Moore was always philosophizing about just about everything. The sport of boxing was certainly no exception.He said old fighters get lazy. I guess when you're old and make your living doing something physical,the aches and pains get in your way so you try to work around the discomfort drawing on guile,knowledge,and a lot of wishful thinking.

Denny Moyer finished up a long career here in San Diego. When he started out in his native Portland he was a pretty slick fellow.He fought them all:the likes of Ray Robinson,Emile Griffith,Luis Rodriguez,Benny Paret,Gaspar Ortega,and later on he made a last ditch effort to wrest the middleweight title from Carlos Monzon. If you watch the tape of that fight,it was pretty even until Carlos landed one that buckled Denny's knees. Then the ref rushed in and stopped it. I think it was set up that way. As soon as Moyer got tagged,halt the action. Moyer probably couldn't have scaled that Argentinian Ande in Italy anyway,but he had nothing to hang his head about.Moyer's skills had become tarnished by a career than spanned almost 150 fights.He had lost his edge. He had lost his baby face,but he wasn't afraid to put what he had left on the line.

Word got out around the gym that Moyer was going to pack his suitcase and travel to Chicago to take on the undefeated Rocky DeFazio,the pride of the Italian community of Melrose Park. Melrose Park was one of several suburbs under the guise of the Outfit's wise guys. It seemed like Moyer was going to get eaten like a sausage and pepper sandwich. I thought the fix would be in anyway so it wouldn't matter. But in the back of my mind,I thought if the Mob didn't reach Moyer,Denny could trim this DeFazio guy. I'd seen him fight on TV. He was pretty crude and awkward. He'd gone through a bunch of no names. I didn't see any Sugar Rays or Monzons on his resume.

I remember Denny being on his best behavior prior with this fight with another Italian fighter named Rocky. By that time Moyer was pretty much shot, but he mustered together everything he had left in the tank for one last encore. It was Denny's last hurrah. He caught a little lighning that was left in the bottle. DeFazio looked like a rank amateur. Moyer knew how to make HIM look like the tired fighter.DeFazio didn't know how to pace himself. Moyer tied him up,countered nicely,and slowly flagged him down. At the end Rocky couldn't hold his hands up. Denny left Melrose Park with all the goombas eating escarole and beans instead of veal parmesian..DeFazio had one more fight after that,another loss.

I was glad to see Denny win that fight.Denny fought only twice more after he beat DeFazio,both times he lost. Your hands get so heavy after awhile that you don't want to lift them anymore.


Denny Moyer

[dagosd2000]

Candy And Nuts

A few years ago,it was at Alan Swyers' premier of his fight documentary,Boxeo,in Sants Monica,former welterweight contender Armando Muniz was asked to say a few words to the audience. He brought up the very sad and controversial decision of him being robbed of the welterweight championship in Acapulco,Mexico against Jose Napoles. I've talked with Armando several times and he is more than willing to bring up this story. In Santa Monica that afternoon,he said that the promoter Jose Sulaiman originally wanted Napoles to defend his title in a fight "in the Caribbean."He didn't say who,but it makes sense that Sulaiman wanted Napoles to fight Angel Espada. Armando went on to say that Jose wanred something a little softer,so they opted for Muniz to fight Jose in Mexico. Espada had decisioned Muniz earlier so that's why I'm guessing it was Muniz who they wanted to serve on a platter to Jose.

In the dressing room before the fight,Sulaiman went in to chat with Muniz. According to Armando the promoter asked him if he was here "to win" the fight. Don't that get all.Well,by this time in Jose's long and gloried career,he'd become more fond of betting the horses,fooling around,and toasting to his legend with ample shots of brandy. On the surface it looked like it was in the bag,but as the fight ,surprisingly,moved into the middle rounds,Muniz's pressue and body shots had Jose against the ropes and you could see he was beginning to run out of breath..By the 10th round the upset was the light at the end of the tunnel. Jose was spent and Armando knew it.Just keep the assault going,and one way or another either by KO,TKO,or decision ,the title belt would be around his waist.But then it was like Jose had lost his mind. He started swinging with both hands south of Armando's border.It was the only way Jose could shake him. The ref warned Jose about the tactic and i thought he'd be sent to his corner.When the referee finally stepped in to stop it,I thought he'd grab Armando's arm and lift it to the ring lights,but you know what happened:one of boxing's biggest travesties in boxing unfolded. They said Armando was the dirty fighter. He had butted Napoles,so they claimed, and now when Jose was about to go to "siestaland",they DQ'd Muniz.Sulaiman gave Armando his watch as a token for the sorrow he felt. Napoles said he had nothing to do with it. It left a taste in one's mouth like last night's stale cerveza.

Jose knew it was a lost cause also. He hadn't trained like when he was hungry all those years fighting in Mexico before George Pranassus finally got him up to Los Angeles to fight Curtis Cokes. Mexico got swept up with Jose after he became THEIR champ. He was made a Mexican citizen with the aide for the first time in Mexican history by a president.He made movies with the famous El Santo.Jose threw his money around like there was no manana. He bought the world a drink.He found in Mexico a machismo role that Castro had thrown a serape on in Jose's native Cuba. All this hysteria eventually diminished his ability to carry on much longer as the once nonpareil. He was now cherry picking his way through the division spending more money than he was taking in. He didn't train for Monzon under an illusion he could stop the easy to hit South American inside 5 rounds. Well,Monzon could be hit,but if Jose was going to win that fight he would have had to train for a 15 rounder. After looking good early,Jose ran out of gas in gay Paree and said "adieu" to the farce sitting on his stool not answering the bell for the 7th round.

After his French debacle, Napoles went farther down hill..He was in his mid 30's and like Archie Moore said,"an old fighter tends to get lazy." He fought a not very strong Hedgemon Lewis in the altitude in Mexico City,a mismatch in the country's capital against Horacio Saldana,and then he thought he'd breeze through Muniz.

You know by now how I feel about Jose Napoles. He was my guy,my favorite fighter. His style was like a beautiful song.But that night in Acapulco I didn't hear any serenades from him. It was the tough little Chicano kid that had to sing the blues. In LA Armando said that the referee ,Carlos Bereuman,was related to Jose Sulaiman.He should have flung his watch back in his face.

The rematch was made later in Mexico City. Jose trained with all that he had left. He beat Armando fair and square this time,but that was the end of any thing Jose could offer to us again that the once magnificent fighter had to show. The brilliance had darkened. The fork had been stuck in him. Next was Stracey.After knocking the Eglishman down in the 1st round.Jose started sweating bullets. By the 6th Stracey's ammo had shred my favorite fighter to pieces.

But today Jose Napoles is remembered as one of the all time best. A first inductee into the IBHOF,They wrote songs about him. And Armando Muniz? He'll tell you all about it,but he isn't angry. Maybe at one point he fumed,but now it's being pushed farther and farther back. It all so bittersweet. If only they had given him a fair shake in Acapulco that night. But like the old saying goes."If 'ifs' and 'buts' were candy and nuts we'd all have a Merry Christmas."


Mando and me

[dagosd2000]

Burke,El Puas,And The Smartest Man In The World

When they told me that Burke Emery had passed away in the home,I didn't feel like going back to his bar,Champs, anymore.The batenders didn't seem to care that much about it. Burke's girlfiend ,Shirley had gone before him. That was a surprise. They said when she broke her hip that she didn't have enough meat on her bones.She was always conscious of her weight. She got pneumonia and she died. By that time Burke was pretty much out of it. They said he wasn't even aware that she was gone. But the other day I went back into Champs. I figured it was stupid to think that just because Burke had died that i shouldn't go back in.

I made my appearance in the late morning just after Ed,the day man, opened the doors.
"Hey.Where have you been?"he said smiling.
I saw he had a few more lines in his face,his skin a bit more wan,his hairline thinner and more recessed.
"I thought I'd see if anything's changed around here,"I said as I pulled up a stool.
"Now why would you think that?"he asked.
"Looking at the sign I see you have more craft beers."
"That way we can charge more money,"he said laughing again.
"I've never liked them that much."
"It's just a trend,"said Ed."Everybody's got to think they like craft beers. Everybody's got their favorite."
"It's all a gimmick,"I said.
"The whole world is a gimmick.,"said Ed."Nobody has a mind of their own anymore."
Ed drew a draft out of the spigot and set it on a bar napkin in front of me.It was the only domestic beer in the place.
"Did Burke ever tell you the story of how he brought Hafey to Monterrey to fight Olivares?"I asked.
"Monterrey ,California?"
"No.Mexico."
"That was taking a hell of a risk."
"Burke did a lot of things like that with his fighters."
"Didn't he take Hafey below the border to fight Arguello?"
"Well, when Hafey fought Olivares in Mexico he caught him with a body shot that made Olivares spit his mouthpiece clear across the ring."
"You don't say."
"Burke always liked telling that one,"I said.
"Didn't they fight again?"
"They fought again in LA. Art lost a split decision. I thought he won that one too."
"Let's face it,"said Ed."There was more money to make with Olivares that Hafey."
"The Mexican community sure came out to see Olivares fight,"I said.
"He was the Julio Cesar Chavez of his time."
"You know. After Castillo beat him,he was never the same."
"I know Rafael Herrera had his number."
"It goes that way.You ring up a big winning streak with a lot of KO's,then you finally lose and become mortal."
"Tyson,Chavez.There's two examples."
Ed began washing some glasses and then putting them on a towel to dry.I didn't feel about talking fights and fighters anymore so I pulled one out from left field.
"Ed,did you see where that scientist Steven Hawkings died the other day?"
"Who?"asked Ed still washing the beer glasses.
"You know.That guy in the wheelchair."
"No.I didn't catch that."
"A lot of people said he was the smartest man in the world."
"Oh yeah,"said Ed still washing the glasses."What made him so smart?"
"He said there was no God. He said he was an atheist.When you die that's it.It's over and done with."
"That's so,"said Ed not looking up.
"He said the brain is a computer.When it breaks you die and it's over. He said computers don't go to heaven."
"There's a lot of people who hang on believing in God,"said Ed. "Their faith gives them hope."
"I'm just tellin' ya what he said."
"So who said he was the most intelligent man in the world?"
"A bunch of scientists probably."
"If he was that smart he wouldn't have said anything like that"
Ed looked at my glass.
"Can I put a top on that?"he asked.
"Sure.Why not?"



Ruban Olivares

[dagosd2000]

Clowns And Princesses

I promised that kid in Tijuana that I'd go to his daughter's first birthday party.The hall was in Colonia Obrera,and though I had lived there once for a short time,I hadn't been back in 40 years,but I thought I wouldn't have any trouble finding the place. Well,I was wrong. Oh,I found Colonia Obrera all right,but the burg had grown to a point that I didn't recognize much anymore and I got lost. So I had to do what I didn't want to do and ask directions. Asking for directions in Mexico is like trying to find a needle in a bean field. First of all there are no street signs,Maybe they'll put one(a very small one)on a side of a building,but that's rare. If you have the street address that's not much help because I've never heard anyone in Mexico refer to a place using street numbers. I knew I'd probably go through a dozen people or so before I could find someone who could give me a general idea where I had to go. Then when you're about to give up,someone finally will tell you how to get there,but with using their logistics.
"You want to go to Salon Abuelito?"
"Si amigo."
"Well you go back down the hill and then go up a little bit and then you go left at the park and go down and when you come to the Y you go left and then go right at the next Y and go down and go by the church and then go left for a little while. It's right there."
Well,after a half an hour,I finally stumbled upon it. i knew I would eventually.

The kid I told you about had been a fighter in Tijuana fighting mostly in those bars around town. He'd win one and then lose one. If he couldn't do any better than that fighting in those bars in Tijuana,he wasn't going anywhere except on a road to the funny farm.But what was I to tell him? I didn't know him that well. When he invited me to the birthday party he was talking about how he was connected to some of the cartel in town. Again,i ain't gonna' say anything. It's no bed of roses down there unless you're juiced. That means your family is part of the aristocracy,you're a big time athlete like a boxer,or you won the lottery. The kid had nothing going like that for him.

The invitation said that the party started a 6 o'clock.I got there at 6 thirty so I figured I was early. I parked my car half way down the block. An old guy wearing an orange vest came up to me. I put it together he was the "security man." i gave him a couple of bucks.
"Here amigo. Make sure no one messes with my car."
The old guy smiled as he took the couple of bucks.
"No te precupas. I watch your car.No problem."
That's the way it works. Mexico is a place where everyone has their hand out. from the president on down to the guy watching your car. I've been bit so many times I feel like dog in a swarm of fleas. Mordida-the bite.My blood is yours amigo.

By the time I arrived the salon was about half full,but starting to get busy .I figured I'd find a table in the corner,get some food,and find the kid and hand him the envelope with my modest gift to give to his daughter. I saw the kid with his wife at the main table. His daughter was dressed up looking like Cinderella. The hall was set up looking like something from Disney's "It's a Small, Small World."The hired help were dressed up like princesses and clowns, there were those trampolines,and those plastic things that the kids play on that you blow up. On all the tables were pictures of the kid's little girl that you could take home with you if you wanted. The clowns and princesses were playing games with all the little kids,singing little kid songs,and all the mothers were taking ample pictures of the festivities.. Balloons,streamers,pinatas,paper machete flowers decorated the big concrete hall. Matronly waitresses moved around with vigor serving food and refreshments,cleaning off tabletops. I thought about where they lived. I knew, in some dark part of Tijuana with a bunch of kids at home with maybe their mother watching them while they cleaned off tables. Their husbands were either dead or had left a long time ago.

After eating a good plate of flautas and drinking a couple of beers ,I made my way to the kid.
"I'm glad you came,"he said shaking my hand.
He's a good looking boy. He doesn't have strong Indian features except for his morena skin and jet black hair. He's got a nice full smile and a warm sincere demeanor.
"This is great."
"Did you eat?"
"I ate some flautas. Very good.Thanks."
After a few more cordialities,we shook hands again and then he worked his way around the room again. I stayed a little while longer. I didn't know anyone,but that was OK with me. Probably better that way. I could leave early and not offend anybody.

As I was headed for the exit,I heard a familiar voice.
"Hey,Roger. What are you doing here?"
It was my granddaughter Erika's husband,I was surprised I guess like he was.
"I got invited to the party.I was at the gym. What are you doing here?"
"I train at the same gym."
I saw that my granddaughter's husband had lost a lot of weight.
"What do you mean train?"
"I'm going to be a fighter,"he said with his chest sticking out.
"What do you mean by that?"I asked grimacing..
"I'm going to have my first fight in a month,"he went on not letting out any air.
"Are you crazy?A fighter? How old are you?",I said raising my voice.
"30,"he said now letting out his wind.
"30? What in the hell are you gong to do?Fight in these crummy bars down here?
"I'm going to fight at 165 pounds,"he went on trying to salvage something with me.
"You're married with three kids.Have you ever fought before?"
"No.I'm only going to fight amateur."
"You're dumber than I thought. You're not even going to get paid for it."
By this time his shoulders were hunched and his face looked pathetic.
"Let me know when you fight. When you get knocked down I'll be yelling at you to not get up."
My granddaughter's husband said nothing. He just stood there looking like a big dummy. I had to turn away.I walked to the door not looking over my shoulder.

As i got outside I saw the cartel guys standing on the sidewalk in there leather jackets and alligator boots smoking cigarettes and talking loud, They stopped talking for a moment to give me the once over as I passed them. It was pretty dark by now.I knew it would be a while before I'd find the border and get home.




El Tucanazo-Los Tucanes de Tijuana.
A favorite band of the cartels. Every cartel has their band.

[dagosd2000]

Flunking Boxeo

It was when I was working at the private school, CETYs, in the Otay section of Tijuana. I was coaching American football at the school and though I wasn't making any money to speak of,I was having the time of my life. No one else at the school was making any either and that included the principal Jesus Cabrera . He was a really good guy. He got his degree up here at the University of San Diego,but he wanted to get into education in Mexico. He was a dedicated man,very humble and polite. I'd say though that he was naïve. One day I was with him at the big bus terminal in the Cinco Diez section of town to pick up a mucky muck educator from Sonora. He couldn't find a parking place because the lot was full. I told him to pull the car over in the loading zone and that I'd go inside the depot get the guy he was expecting. Jesus said that the cop wouldn't let him park the car in the loading zone. I kind of smirked at him.
"Here.Give him this and he'll look the other way."
I handed Jesus a couple of bucks to give to the cop.I got out of the car,went inside the bus terminal,and came back with the educator. Most of the principals and teachers in Mexico are on the idealistic side. They believe that education should enhance the prospects of every Mexican kid. If a kid got his schooling at CETYs he had the opportunity to get accepted(if he got the grades) to go the universities in California. The subjects at CETYs were plenty tough. Nothing watered down. Kids took 9 courses a semester and it wasn't credits in things like home economics or making pottery.

One of the kids on the team was a kid named Sergio Rhodes. He seemed more grown up than the high school kids I had dealt with in San Diego. In fact all those kids at CETYs seemed more mature. They didn't act silly and knew what was expected from them. I never saw a trace of graffiti. There were no gangs. They just about all smoked and there was no segregation between student and teacher or administrator. There was no "staff" lounge or "staff" restroom. Everyone ate together,if they chose,in the cafeteria smoking and drinking coffee. The kids were dressed smartly.Everyone called each other by their last names. This Sergio Rhodes kid was squared away like all the others.

He knew Romulo Rodarte who at the time was training and managing Jibaro Perez,who had won the title and next to J.C. Chavez was the most popular fighter not only in TJ,but all of the republic. We'd go down to the CREA GYM that was legendery at that time. All the great fighters had worked up a sweat in that gym one time or another. When Chavez migrated to Tijuana to train with quality fighters,it was Rodarte that schooled him in the finer points.

One day Sergio Rhodes asked me if I'd like to go with him to the municipal auditorium to watch one of the CETYs kids fight. I forget the kid's name,but Sergio told me since he was a student at CETYs that they hung the nickname "El Estudiante" on him. I was glad to go along. The kid hadn't lost and I'd seen him in the gym and he handled himself pretty well.

Well,it's like this in Tijuana when two boys get together for a fight. It's just about a sure bet that they'll fill the arena when they match a local fighter with a fighter from Mexico City,a chilango. I remember when they hired me at CETYs. I said that I was a little surprised I got the job because i was an American. They laughed.
"No.That wasn't an issue.As long as you weren't a chilango. We'd hire a n----r before we'd hire anyone from Mexico City. We will never hire a chilango."

Here's the deal. The upper crust from Mexico City thinks they're smarter than the average Mexican. It even has to do with Mexico City being on sacred Aztec ground and it being the capitol and everything has to run thriough Mexico City to get the OK.People in TJ don't like that attitude. I mean there's a lot of money in TJ,legit and not so on the up and up. At that time when chilangos relocated to Tijuana they lived in the developing section of the city called Playas de Tijuana.

Getting back to this fight, We're sitting in this CETYs kid corner. I figure he'll have the local crowd behind him. Well.the chilango fighter steps into the ring first. He's a swarthy looking character with gangly arms and a face you could tell had sampled a lot of leather. His record showed that he had a little more wins than losses.That was probably a stretch and the other way around. Then the CETYs kid comes down the aisle. I don't hear much noise,but don't think nothing of it.The CETYs kis is 6 and O.He's a smiling and waving to the crowd,but all I hear is some "chifles",whistling. He's a good looking boy,light skin,a clean face,no marks.

They put the two in the semi main.The fighters are prancing up and down in their corners when the ring announcer begins the intructions. He first introduces the chilango. I hear the expected round of boos and more chifles and a few comments questioning the guy's sexual preference.After the shouts go down ,the CETYs kid is introduced. The announcer introduces him with his moniker"El Estudiante."Well I thought the walls were going to come down like they did in Jericho except from trumpet blasts,it was from all the shouts from the local aficianados who I thought were going get into the ring and beat the kid up before Mr. Mexico City had the chance to. I was stunned.They hated this kid because he a "student." So I figured there weren't too many PHDs in the mob. Equating fighting and book learning smarts is unmentionable. These Tijuaneros wanted the chilabgo to give this student a beating.

Well the CETYs kid won in a walk.He had the chilabgo on the ropes pounding him at will. When the referee finally stopped the slaughter,then me and Sergio had to go to duck and cover because now the incoming was flying into the ring:cups of beer,chairs,a few drunks.The CETYs kid had enough time to put on his robe,jump out of the ring,and excape with his life.

So what does that tell you?If you're going to be a fighter make sure you stay away from schools,and if you do happen to attend,make sure you flunk all your classes.



The CREA GYM in TJ

[dagosd2000]

Dream Street

A few ago I thought I'd retrace my steps and revisit some of the old landmarks in town that had to do with the sport of boxing in this burg. I'd been to the building that was once the San Diego Coliseum a lot of times. Somewhere in the 90's the owner,Jerry Navarro,turned off the lights for good and put inside the skeleton a furnture store. That was his main line of business,selling furniture.He had a few stores around town. He still does,but his outlet downtown, where Archie Moore had once swapped leather with the good and not so good in the 30's and 40's,was beginning to decay like the rest of the neighborhood so Navarro decided to just store his furniture inside the old stucco walls. You could pick up a sofa or a lounge chair at the will call window. But his other stores in the fast growing suburbs was getting the business ,not the warehouse nee San Diego Coliseum. Having a good head on his shoulders for making a buck,he shut the 14th and F building down for good..With the old neighborhood east of Park boulevard being gobbled up by gentrification ,he was sitting on a gold mine. I posted last year that the heavy equipment was parked along side the ribs of the structure. I guess that was easier to take than to see the homeless using its sides as a place to sleep ,defecate,and drink wine and shoot dope.

Speaking of Archie Moore, who blended naturally into this town that was at the end of the tracks,I began to lament for something else that spoke his name. First,I decided to look up his big brick house in South East San Diego,the house where he had built the swimming poll in the back yard that was shaped like a boxing glove. If you drove west on Highway 15 you could see the house and the liquid glove from the freeway.To get my bearings I drove on the freeway to see if the house was still there. To my satisfaction it was. i turned off the ramp and mired my way through the old neighborhood that hadn't changed much except that many of the houses and apartment buildings needed a fresh coat of paint. The area was mostly black families back then,but now it is mostly Mexican families living inside the doors. Unlike the streets around the old Coliseum,there were no bulldozers around. No new condos or trendy eateries are planned as of yet for the Mongoose's old neighborhood. Well,I'm turning my car around every corner craning my neck trying to remember where Archie's old house was. Finally I had to ask for directions.I saw this black dude dressed from head to foot in blue with a blue rag around his head.He was with a womam who also donned mucho blue threads. She was pushing a baby carriage.
"Excuse me,"I politlely said."Can you tell me where Archie Moore's old house is?"
The dude stopped in his tracks.
"What the f--k you talking about?"he snapped.
"You know.Archie Moore who used to be the fighter,His house is near by."
"Man I don't know what you're f-----g talking about,"he griped like I had interrupted something important.
Just then I saw the mail lady. I drove up next to her.
"Excuse me.Can you tell me where Archie Moore's old house is?"
She stopped and paused to think.
"I'm not sure.What does it look like?"
"It's a big brick house with a swimming pool that looks like boxing glove in the back yard."
"Oh yes,"she said pleasently."Go to the next corner and turn right.It's at the end of the block."
I thanked her and turned the corner. I recognized it right away. It was bigger than the rest of the houses on the block. I saw that a chain link fence and a lot of trash was around the perimeter of the house. It looked like they were remodeling the premises.Then I saw a small sign above the front door.It read"Thads".Above the name was painted something that looked like lightning bolts. There was a phone number under the name. When I had lived out at the beach,I remebered that there was this apartment building with that same sign on the door. The place was a club for orgies, I stopped the car long enough to get out and snap a picture.

Now that I had finally found out what Archie Moore's old house had morphed into,I decided to see if I could find his old Any Boys Can Club,his gym and guidance venue for the youth of South East San Diego. The city sponsored him and put him on salary to train the youngsters how to defend themselves, and more importantly, to keep them off the streets and fall in with the wrong crowd. When i was working at the Friendship Home School in National City for severely handicapped kids,I'd sometimes after work and pop into the club and give the old champ a hand.Archie Moore took that assignment on religiously. Well this time I didn't even come close. I thought I could find it. I went back to where the Friendship Home School used to be and then tried to retrace my steps.All I saw were industrial parks and condominiums. There wasn't a footprint. So after burning up a quarter of a tank of gas,I gave up.

My day was shot.Instead of finding a holy grail,I had kicked a tin can.But I can think about what once was.It's set comfortably away in a dream.But unlike a lot of dreams,I hope I will never stop remembering.


Archie Moore's old place in South East San Diego

[dagosd2000]

Another view of Archie Moore's house around the side. I was having coffee with a paramedic at a Starbucks in the Golden Hill area. My granddaughter was next door taking a Flamenco lesson.I was waiting for her to finish up and then take her home. The paramedic was on call. I don't know how it started but I began spouting off about Archie Moore's house and how it had transformed itself into a "swingers" clubhouse. The paramedic perked up when I said "swingers" club.
"Is that Thads in South East San Diego you're talking about?"
"Yeah.You think what a legend Archie Moore was in boxing and how he was such a leader in the community the city should have bought the property and made it a boxing museum in his honor."
The paramedic was just a kid,a real nice fellow.
"Everyone knows about Thads.That's where they have all the" swinger" parties.Like the sign on the door says you can "party naked." I don't know how much it costs to get in but when they have a party you can't find a place to park on the street."
"If Archie Moore could look down from heaven and see what his old digs turned into I wonder what he'd say,"I said shaking my head.
The paramedic kid paused for a moment,then asked.
"Who was Archie Moore?"

[dagosd2000]

Taking A Little Off The Top

Just off the top of my head:I saw on one of the threads that a poster thought it was demeaning for Larry Holmes to do a commercial about KFC. He thought it was a bad stereotype.I think that's a pretty big stretch being that if you ever wanted to discuss something to Archie Moore besides the sweet science he'd happily indulge you with either talking about playing the bass in a jazz combo or how he had the best recipe for barbeque sauce that was especially mouthwatering when basted on chicken. He tried to get somebody to market his product and was seriously thinking of opening his own chicken restaurant in San Diego. When they'd celebrate MLK Day in Southeast in San Diego ,Moore would set up a stand cooking up his birds rubbing ample amounts of his secret sauce on the poultry. Typical Archie,he wouldn't divulge what the ingredients of his meat elixir was to anyone. But one evening I attended the MLK festivities at Ocean View Park and there was Archie serving up his chicken along with an array of chops and ribs. The aroma alone was enough to draw you to his grills.I overheard Moore explain to a beautiful old lady what comprised the mixtures in his sauce,at least I think that's what he was offering,but the music was so damned loud(Jimmy Smith wailing away on his Hammond B 3 organ) that I couldn't catch what he said to her.I saw on the internet that there's an Archie Moore Barbeque Sauce that's sold back east,but it has nothing to do with the great fighter. It was some dude that who lived around the turn of the century.Getting back to that "Reverse Racism" post:now if Larry Holmes had done a commercial about watermelon,,I think it would have struck a nerve.

Got a call from Tiger Smalls the other day.He wanted to know why his son Prince's,result of a fight in Tijuana was never posted on the BoxRec. I told him I'd try to do something for him so I PM'd one of the moderators.He responded right back about how some of the results coming in from Mexico were bogus and that there were commissions and promoters south of the border that couldn't be trusted. That's a shame,but I don't think it surprises anybody,especially any fight fan in Mexico.

When Fritzie Zivic figured how to breakdown the great Henry Armstrong with uppercuts(and a few glove laces and a thumb or two),Armstrong never fought again for a title. even though he fought another five years with around 40 fights under his belt and it wasn't like he was losing every time he went out there. Today you have guys that are all washed up or haven't fought in years or balloon up 20 pounds and you see them in there fighting for some type of championship. Talk about Fake News.

Former WBC lightweight champ Rodolfo Gonzalez told me that after beating Chango Carmona to win the title,he bought a house for his mother in Colonia Hipodromo in Tijuana. He also mentioned that he opened a bar in the Coahuila , the red light district near the border. He says his brother lives in the house which is in a pretty swanky neighborhood near the Caliente Track.The bar? When I asked him about what happened to the bar,he just laughed and rolled his eyes.



Jimmy Smith -The Champ




Henry Armstrong

[dagosd2000]

Macho Rights

This was big fight. Julio Cesar Chavez and Hector Camacho.Hector called himself "Macho".Of course that didn't sit well with the aficianados in the Southland and below the border. Both boys' careers were cresting. "Macho" was a showy, flashy dude who'd enter the ring with the long slit up the sides of his sequined trunks.He liked to gyrate his hips prior to being brought to the center of the ring by the referee. He sported that Curly Q hair style in the middle of his forehead.He liked to talk a lot.He thought of himself as being irresistible to all the chulas. He was going to get all those Mexican girls to want HIM after he got through with Julio Cesar Chavez. Yes,he was Macho.

Julio Cesar on the other hand was on the opposite end of the spectrum. He fought like the embodiment of the Mexican warrior. He wanted to eat your heart out. Camacho ,in line with his personality,was a cutey,a very smooth southpaw who could slip and move around the ring like a salsa dancer. He could pick you apart like a surgeon whereas Chavez chopped his opponents up like a butcher on steroids. Hector was pretty.Julio was ugly,and proud of it. And then to cap it off Camacho was Puerto Rican and Chavez, Mexican.

Chavez had always had his hand raised at the end of all his fights. Camacho had gotten a little lazy preparing for Greg Haugen the first time.in the rematch, Hector was Macho again.They made the match in Las Vegas.They could have paired the two on the North Pole and there wouldn't have been enough tickets to sell. It was a time when Mexico wasn't getting the free Pay For View on TV.We on the U.S. side had to pay through the nose,but we could afford it..The night of that fight the border crossing at San Ysidro set an all time record for incoming traffic to the U.S. side.

My wife,Maria, at that time worked cleaning fish for the Anthony's Sea Food restaurants at their commissary.She'd bundle up after awakening at 3 in the morning and then i'd roll out of bed to take her down to the commissary. She worked with a few Italians,but the bulk of the labor were Mexicans,I'd say split evenly between the sexes.Within that group half of those workers crossed into San Diego from Tijuana.It was hard work and the pay was lousy.Between the union and Anthony's,they would let those people who cut fish in the freezer up for air. But they didn't complain much. Besides,who'd listen?The Mexicans would bring these huge lunches of homemade Mexican food and sit at the lunch table in the back of the warehouse and gab and joke and make the most out of life.My wife worked there for 30 years. Most of those people had worked there most of their lives. Some of the man even worked jobs on Sundays to supplement their incomes for their families.

One of the men who worked alongside my wife was Pedro. He was a good guy who didn't talk much. He had that wry Mexican humor,but he was a good guy. He lived in a small trailer park about a block down from the school where I was working in San Ysidro by the border.He lived in a trailer with his wife and son and a daughter. His wife was the homemaker,His kids(who went to the school where I was at)got straight "A's" or if they didn't Pedro would beat the crap out of them.He didn't go to school much living in TJ.All he knew was that he didn't bring his family to the United States to clean fish.I helped him with immigration to get the legal papers for his wife.Pedro knew that i had "bought' the fight.He asked if he could come up and watch it at my place. Of course.

Although Camacho was a very good fighter,I don't think many gave him much of a chance to derail Chavez. Pedro sat on the couch with me while my wife kept bringing over plates of tacos,frijoles,and cold bottles of beer.My wife is no sports fan by any stretch of the imagination.I think she thinks that men who play sports(and watch from the stands) are just little boys who, when indulging with their game,don't have time to think about women. But she understood that. She knew when the game was over,the men would get horny again.

Pedro,I could tell was a little apprehensive.I told him that Chavez had it in the bag.After a few rounds it was apparent that Camacho couldn't deal with Chavez's onslaught. The fight wasn't that close. Chavez beat him like a Mexican.After the final bell we knew who was the most Macho.It left a very satisfying taste in Mexico's mouth.Pedro could now go back to the trailer and worry about his kids getting straight "A's".



Macho Camacho

[dagosd2000]

On My Stomach

I get these ingrown hairs on my back every so often than harden into cysts.. About every five years I go to the doctor for him to cut them out.But now my HMO says that my problem is a "cosmetic" concern and that they won't do the surgery. So like with my dental and eye care issues I go to Tijuana.The equipment,materials,and the people who do the work are on a par with what's going on up here. Now if something major comes up or I need to go to "emergency" ,I'll stick with my HMO here,but for domething routine,TJ is willing and less of a hassle. Even some of the drugs like 800mg. of Ibuprophen where I need a prescription here,I'll just to the pharmacy across the border to save time. So when the docs said that my problem was a beauty concern,I rolled my eyes and drove down to TJ. The peoblem was that I didn't have a regular general practitioner down there,so I had to find one.

If you roam around the streets in Tijuana the city is choked with optometrists,dentists,and doctors offices,not to mention pharmarcies.I went on Good Friday and was beginning to have a little trouble finding anything open. I went to the Parque Guerrero area west on 3rd Street. There are a lot of doctors' offices in that part of town,but I could see that many of the clinics were not open. Good Friday is an important day in that Catholic country. As I drove towards the park the police had cordoned off some of the streets to let the people parade through to the big church across the street from the park. They were reenacting Jesus's crucifixion.I was driving around in circles and was thinking of going back home,but since I was down there,I didn't want to give up quite yet. Across from the church I saw that there was a doctor's office that had its doors open. There was a parking space right in front on the street.The late morning was bright and a little warm.A slight breeze puffed through the streets.I felt that I had lucked out finally.

I entered the door. I could see right away that the office was small and had that look like it was arrayed in a fashion that was homey and comfortable. An old man was standing at the door.There was a matronly looking woman sitting on a small sofa next to the window. I spoke to the old man.His hair was thick and iron gray, He was wearing a flannel shirt and dark khaki pants. His face was worn,but pleasant looking.
"Are you the doctor?"I asked him.
"No.La Senora>",he answered pointing to the woman.
With that the woman alertly rose from the sofa.She was smiling.Her teeth were full and her eyes sparkled wanting to catch my embrace. She was heavyset yet her weight didn't detract from her poise. Her auburn her was pulled back into a ponytail. She wore a beige colored dress that looked dated.
"Are yo busy?"I asked her.
"No,"she answered warmly."What can I do for you?"
I explained about the cysts on my back and that my health insurance provider wouldn't help me because it was a cosmetic problem and before I could go on any further she asked me to take off my shirt. She looked at my back and pressed her fingers on the cysts.
"You have four of them.One is not ready to be cut out.You need to come back in two months when it hardens so I can cut it out then."
"You can do it?"I asked.
"Yes,"she answered still smiling."Come to the back room."
There was one of those small operating tables with a doctor's sheet of paper covering the table. The room looked messy,but i didn't feel uneasy about it. I could tell she must have had a lot of patients coming in and out.
"Rest on your stomach,"she said."What is your name?"
"Rogelio."
"Oh.Your name is 'Royer.'My name is Berta."
I propped myself onto the table.She put a pillow under my chin and put a rolled cushion under my feet.
"Before we start can I ask how much it is going to cost?"
"100 dollars,"she said abruptly.
I was fine with that price.I was expecting she would go higher. I didn't want to bargain with her.I could hear her assembling her tools of her trade and putting them in a white pan. She put on her surgical gloves and then began humming a tune.
"You live in Tijuana?"she asked."You speak Spanish."
"No.But I have a daugher here who lives in Canon Jhonson.You know where that is?"
"Oh yes."
"Where do you live?"
"I live in Rosarito."
"I also have three granddaughters who live in Tijuana and eight great grand childen who live here."
She stuck the needle with the novacane around the cysts to dull the pain.
"How old ae you?You don't look that old to have great grandchildren."
"You'll have to ask my granddaughters about that,"I said.
She let out a hearty laugh.
"I was born in Sinaloa,"she said waiting for the navacane to take affect."I married my husband here in Tijuana when we were studying at the UABC.He's a dentist. My son is studying to be a dentist too.His wife is a school teacher."
"Do you have any grandchildren?"
"Yes.one.A boy..Muy bonito."
"Do you ever go back to Sinaloa?"I asked.
"I have a lot of family there.Sinaloa is more beautiful than ever."
"My wife is from Michoacan."
"Sinaloa is the most beautiful place in the world. I was born in Culiacan."
"I've been to Culiacan. There's a lot of drugs there."
"Oh yes."
"Doesn't Sinaloa even have a patron saint for the narcos?"
"Oh yes.We have a saint for the narcos,but right now i can't remember the name."
"Julio Cesar Chavez is from Culiacan."
"Oh yes.He was the greatest fighter who ever lived."
"When he started out fighting in Sinaloa,they saw that he was going to be great.They wanted him to go to Tijuana so that he coud train with the best fighters Mexico had to offer."
"He was the greatest fighter who ever lived."
"I saw him fight at the race track once.He used to train at the CREA.I know the trainer who worked with him here.His name is Romulo Rodarte.He's still training fighters at the CREA.He also trained Jibaro Perez."
"There will never be another fighter like Julio Cesar Chavez.He is from Sinaloa."
"But he had his problems with drugs and alcohol. He spent some time in a clinic."
She began pushing her fingers on my back.
"You feel anything?"she asked.
"I feel no pain."
"Then I'll start working.You just rest."
I could feel her working with the scalpel,but I didn't feel anything. After a while I drifted away into my thoughts.While I was dreaming in and out I could hear her singing.



Romulo Rodarte

[dagosd2000]

The Baby Carriage

The gym is big with a high ceiling.It's in one of there industrial complexes.You wouldn't recognize it as a boxing gym or any other kind of gym unless you get right up in front of it and then the sign on the door says that there's a gym inside the door.But then again it's one of those gyms that offers all styles of fighting:Tae Kwan Do,Judo,MMA stuff,Karate,boxing,wrestling. I don't know too much about anything besides some boxing. I don't know if the instructors are that experienced or knowledgeable at least on the non boxing stuff..There's little kids,big kids,boys and girls,the man in the street,the liberated woman,fat guys,skinny guys,people that want to get something out of it,or want to believe that.There's no windows so you can't look inside.At the front desk there's some kids handling things like memberships and selling pugilistic gear. A little snack stand is next to the front desk.Granola bars and those hydrating Gatorade kind of drinks you can buy. The place always is crowded when I go there.Plenty of punching bags,head gears,those giant truck tires that they flip over in order to gain strength,those thick heavy ropes that you grab in each hand and then work your arms up and down to get stronger,some nautilus machines,a few barbells and benches,a stack of dumbells,treadmills,wrestling mats,and a couple of boxing rings.There's the staple of pictures on the wall of Ali,Frazier,Tyson,Bruce Lee,and Arnold. A few motivational sayings add to the walls' décor. There's always some kind of class going on.There's a lot of sweat.The instructors push.Everyone seems serious.I don't know what the breakdown is,but only a handful are in there trying to supplement their incomes being fighters.Some are "amateurs" waiting for the opportunity to see what they have in some tournament.The pros are waiting around to see what a promoter will toss their way. The managers(If you want to call them that)have to play both sides against the middle.It's a quiet desperation thing.

With all the crowd and activity I get the feeling that either most are kidding themselves.For the majority who come in for the exercise,I guess they're getting their money's worth. For the ones that think that what they're getting is going to take them somewhere,I get a bittersweet taste in my mouth.But that sense is manifested because I've always seen fighters as being the eternal optimists,at least at the start. They obey.They're polite and humble.In a modest setting,they acquire modesty.The promoters and the managers know before the fighters if it's worth it. Maybe the managers build up a thick skin and try not to get too sensitive.The promoters I don't think give a damn,Scarlett.Sometimes a prospect feels he's being ignored. Maybe he's lured away by another gym and another team.They want the grass to be greener,but their talent will tell them in time if they're walking in the weeds.

When I get the urge I'll drive over to the gym,do my invisible walk through the door,and plant myself on the bench next to one of the boxing rings. The few fighters that train there know me. I know them,but we don't know each others' names.They smile and wave,touch fists, and ask me how it's going. They carry their gear with all their wraps and gloves,and towels.There's plenty of gear to go around if you're missing something. Sometimes I'll wrap a hand,water down someone,or just yell"Time" when it's the end of their sparring session .With all the combat that's suppose to be going on,I always feel very tranquil absorbing everything.

Everytime I go to the gym and take my place below the ring,I see this big fella' ,a fair skinned black guy,coming in pushing a baby carriage with this baby inside it. I'd say the baby is about one year old. It's got to be a girl because she's got ribbons in her baby hair and always cute pastel little baby dresses.The baby is always smiling and never cries. The guy has to be the baby's father. I've never seen any woman with him so I don't know if the baby's mother is around, but I'm guessing she is.The gig guy talks some baby talk to her and is very caressive.The baby always seems very comfortable and it's like she's at home.After giving this daughter assurance,he moves the carriage with the baby next to me. He shakes my hand and always give me the impression that I'm somebody important:the old timer who's been around the fight game forever and deserves respect. Of course I'm none of that.Then he gets his stuff out of his bag and slowly and carefully wraps his hands..He puts on his boxing shoes and laces them up..He gets out his boxing cup,adjusts it around his waist, and steps into the ring and begins to shadow box. He never looks over at the baby carriage all the time he's inside the ring either shadow boxing or sparring. The baby never makes a fuss and usually falls asleep.The guy is an honest heavyweight. i can't really tell if he's got any talent,what his skill level is,or if he's up to the task. But I can't tell because there aren't any guys his size to work with.All I've seen him spar with is guys that are a lot lighter than him and not very good.He doesn't get a lot of good work in. He told me once he had had a few fights around the country. I think he said had been on a card in Kansas City. I think he said he had also fought in Baltimore.He told me that now he'd test the waters in San Diego.How or why he arrived here,I don't have the slightest idea.When I look over at his daughter resting in that baby carriage,I hope everything works out for him.



Erik Morales's Gym

[dagosd2000]

On The Other Side Of The Wall

"We go back a long ways,"I said.
"Remember that time we went to the fights at the Auditorio and you climbed up into Marcos Geraldo's corner?"
"How could I forget that?"
"I thought you were going to jail for that one."
I was talking to Beto. He was at his gym that day near the Parque Benito Juarez in the Zona Norte.He was sitting behind his desk just inside the door.I had a chair opposite him. Across the street there was the fence that seperates the U.S. and Mexico. i don't think I have ever seen him not wearing the white T shirt,khaki pants,and the scuffed up brown work shoes. His face was aging nicely.He always was a calm guy. Nothing seemed desperate that he would get too anxious. What was left of his hair he combed straight back. His chin showed some jowls that complemented his round face.His brown eyes never displayed anxiety.He didn't move too fast.Once there were a lot of fighters around,but now there were mostly shadows. Half hearted efforts by someone would could scrape up enough money to pay a month's dues, and then discover what it took out of a man to be a fighter,and then you'd never saw him again. Beto let them know right off that if you wanted to do this,there'd be a sacrifice. He didn't want to waste his time or fool anyone. Besides,he was losing money on the gym.The morning I went to visit him there was no one inside the gym but Beto at his desk.
"What ever happened to that kid Alex you had in here?,"I asked.
"He doesn't come in anymore."
"I thought you had something with him."
"When I took him up to the States to fight that guy in Hartford and he lost, that took it out of him."
"Wasn't that his first loss?I saw that fight on TV."
"He got knocked down in the first round and lost a close decision."
"I thought he won."
"I should have never taken him to Hartford."
"Then he lost in Tijuana."
"That was his next fight. It was for the Baja State Title.He lost the decision.He wasn't supposed to win anyway.After that he gave up.Now he's home with a girl he met taking care of their baby while she works in a restaurant on the Boulevard.That was the last shot I had with anyone."
On the wall above Beto's desk was a picture of Jose Napoles.Before Napoles had come across the border to fight up here,he opened the gym and had Beto run it for him. But then Napoles got caught up with too much and sold the gym to Beto for a fair price,
"I told you I looked up Jose Napoles in Ciudad Juarez,"I said.
"You said he wasn't doing very good."
"He's sicker now.His wife watches over him day and night so I'm told."
"I fought on the under card when he was in Tijuana to fight that prieto.I forget the guy's name."
"Herbie Lee."
"You've got a good memory."
"That was the first time I saw Napoles fight in person."
"That was in the bullring."
"One day he trained at that gym between the jail on 8th street,Calle Ocho, and the fire station.I went there that day."
"That's all gone now,"said Beto with a smirk.
"I don't remember you fighting that night,"I said laughing."That was before we met."
"I lost that night. I didn't fight after that."
"Well now you've got the gym."
"I can hardly pay the rent. The landlord is eventually going to kick me out."
"The neighborhood is looking pretty run down,"I said.
"They shut down the gym at the park.Erik Morales's gym still does ok,but he's up the street a few blocks.It's a little safer."
"I noticed a lot of trash in the street,"I said.
"They don't pick it up.Besides there's a lot of addicts and drunks who pick through that stuff and live off it."
"I see the old cemetary is still across the street."
"A lot of addicts sleep there at night.You don't want to walk around here at night. They've broken all the street lights so you can't see who's sneaking up on you."
I saw the paper "El Mexicano" on Beto's desk. The headline was about Trump wanting to send troops to the border.
"So Beto what do you think about the wall Trump wants to build?"
"I like it.I hope it keeps the gringos out,"he said laughing.
"I know what you mean,"I said smiling."And the troops?"
"He needs to send them across the border if he wants to do any good. Run the cartels and narcos out of this country."
"We used to do things like that a hundred years ago to protect our investments."
Beto shifted positions in his chair.
"Your daughter still lives in Canon Jhonson?"he asked.
"She'll never leave that place. She's got her papers but as long as the kids and grandkids,and the great grandkids live in TJ,she ain't budging."
"You have great grandkids?"he asked with raised eyebrows.
"I have seven."
"Los pinchi Mexicanos le gustan a coher,"he said laughing again.
"They start early down here."I said returning the laugh.
"Time sure goes by fast doesn't it,"he said looking past me.
"It sure does."
Beto glanced at his empty ring.All the boxing gear was set up in a rows along the wall.Then he looked at me again and folded his hands.
"I wonder whatever happened to Herbie Lee?"he said lowering his head.




Jose Napoles

[dagosd2000]

Today is my birthday. My granddaughters' husbands want to take me to the Coahuila to celebrate. I'll try really hard.




No Bailes de Caballito

[dagosd2000]

God's Child

I once saw bobby Chacon want to take on George Chuvalo during an autograph session at the World Boxing Hall of Fame ceremony at the Marriot Hotel by the LA airport.. They were sitting next to each other at a long table along with other notable fighters signing autigraphs for the fans.I caught out of the corner of my eye Bobby suddenly lunge from his chair and put his hands on Big George.Immediately, Bobby was pulled away from Chuvalo by the throng around the autograph table. Like myself,I don't think anyone understood what had upset Bobby to make him attack Chuvalo,and that went for George. Later at dinner,Rick Farris explained to me that Bobby thought that Chuvalo had stolen Bobby's pen.As quickly as the ruckus had started it was over.Bobby went back into his clownish, childlike personality and things seemed back to normal. Bobby was his impish self again:the bad behaved little boy who wouldn't go to this corner. His companion,Rosie,would have an anxious look on her face imagining what Bobby would pull next out of his sleeve..Bobby kept her on pins and needles.

Chuvalo,meanwhile,shrugged his shouldrers,and kept signing away. Bobby,then, was coerced by a coterie of memorabilia leeches to the hotel lobby.There,they fed Bobby drinks and stuffed cigars in his mouth. It was a jovial affair. Bobby was in stitches.The leeches were sucking the blood out of Bobby's right hand as he signed away on everything from cocktail napkins to boxing gloves. Rosie kept a watch on all this sitting on her pincushion. Bobby didn't know what was going on. The leeches were counting the coin they stood to make.They made sure Bobby had plenty of pens. After paring Bobby down to the bone,the bloodsuckers stowed their signatures in their briefcases had sidled up to the bar. Bobby was still happy.He was happy being the bad pixie.The churlishness of the sharks that had sated their appetites from Bobby's naivete, sloshed down their boubons and sodas patting each other on the back.Now Bobby could go back to picking a fight with George Chuvalo if he wanted. They wouldn't be there to protect him from getting hurt.Rosie,might have tried to step in between,but that might have expedited a 911 call.

When ex fighters get like the way Bobby wound up,you hear a lot of wisecracks.I've said some regrettable things in the past. Sucker punches,that's what it's like. You could have teased Bobby and he wouldn't have known that he was the butt end of ridicule. The other fighters would kind of stay back from him or they would sacrifice their patience with his pranks. He merited that.He deserved some respect. I remember one time when Bobby was really going manic.Everyone in the banquet hall stopped what they were doing to see what was going to happen next.I happened to be next to Armando Muniz. He looked at me and said,"There's Bobby Chacon."
It seemed, maybe, apologetic.If anything, it was sad to see.Armando was a gutsy fighter. Bobby Chacon's middle name was "Guts."I think Armando felt badly about seeing Bobby that way. I think the fighters felt worse than anyone else. They couldn't do anything. I don't think George Chuvalo would have done anything more than cover up if Bobby hadn't been restrained.

Bobby's gone now.He fell and hit his head. I heard something like that.He was in one of those "homes" and he fell and he hit his head.My wife,Maria,when I told her about Bobby's passing didn't say anything,but saddened her face. Her look flushed and her chest heaved a little.
"Pobricito Bobby"she murmured.
Mexicans see someone who drifts into a condition like Bobby Chacon's ,as someone who is "special."They are one of" God's children." They are not to be cast aside.They should not be institutionalized.They are innocent again like a newborn baby. My wife would always laugh at whatever shenanigan Bobby was up to. At the end Bobby might have acted like the bad little boy,but I'm sure Saint Peter gave him a pass at the pearly gates.



Armando,Bobby,and Rosie



Bobby laying a smacker on me

[dagosd2000]

Star Eyes

I've got this thing about looking at a fighter's eyes,not so much the lamps themselves,but the skin around the eyes,especially if the fighter had(or has) the rep as a bleeder.It's not nice that I give a fighter's pan the once over. It's a kind of compulsive phobia I've got.You can get a lot of history about a fighter, if you're not in the mood to ask a lot of questions,by looking at his eyes.A fighter who cuts easily has to deal with a problem that he wish he didn't have when he's trying to defend himself. He never knows when that tissue paper skin of his is going to come apart and then he has to fight an added battle besides his opponent, who then gets his second wind when he sees crimson,and shifts his target on the exposed wound. That's what you're supposed to do.

Ronnie Wilson,a good local San Diego lightheavyweight, was cursed with that thin skin around the eyes. With guys like Wilson,it doesn't take much to start the blood flow goin'.Sometimes he'd break a clinch and he'd be bleeding..His corner between riounds would press the ice and the adrenaline over the gash.His head would be pushed against the corner rope they'd be pressing so hard.But after the next gong,the slightest contact would initiate the bloodflow again. Ronnie Wilson could have gone a lot further up the ladder if they hadn't have rushed him along like they did. He'd be fighting every other week. They never let his cuts heal properly.Wilson would be fightin' a guy he had beaten before and there was no reason for him to fighting the same fellow. But moving him along like that just did more damage to Ronnie Wilson.As his career chugged into the century mark of bouts,the scar tissue was building up thicker and thicker. It was like seeing a sloppy putty job. With my quirk,I'd look. Was this where Mike Quarry hit you when you fought at The Valley Music Center?Or was this the scar you got from Billy Hester at the Silver Slipper in Las Vegas? Yaqui Lopez cut you in Reno,but you made him bleed too,but you were away from San Diego and couldn't get any help from the officials in Nevada.Not only did they move you too fast and took fights on short notice in the other guy's hometown,you had to bring that tenuous skin with you.

Burke Emery,when he settled down after fighting and managing and ran his bar down the street from where I lived,was another ex pug whose old purple scars didn't have to make you think much about how he had earned a living. Burke took a fight with two weeks rest to fight Scotland's finest,Chic Calderwood,in Glasgow.In the 2nd round Burke did his bleeding thing around the optical area and the ref stepped between him and Chicky Baby. Burke would gripe that they should have never stopped it. It was a hometown decision.("At least give me a chance to get knocked out").That was Burke.But looking at a sad face that looked that way because the skin tone by now had given way and made his face sag,I gave Burke no argument. You can win that decision with me old pal.

When I went on my quest to try to find my favorite fighter,Mantequilla Napoles in Ciudad Juarez,I knew if I hit gold,the first thing I'd look for was the scars.It seemed that after L.C. Morgan struck oil in Reynosa ,Mexico,Jose's eyes began to give him added problems to deal with in the ring..When,after two trips across the border from El Paso,me and the cabbie finally nailed him down sitting in front of his modest little house in a mundane neighborhood smoking a cigar. I stood to the side of him a little so I could find the old wounds.They were so obvious it was like they were making a play for me. .Jose and me and the cabbie are yapping away and I'm studying his brows. Was this one the one that started it all when L.C. Morgan, who wasn't in your league, did the damage in that border town of Reynosa,Mexico?Which one was it when Billy Backus sliced you open to the bone,literally?They were all there. I don't know which one of those purple canals could be attributed to whom,but the squiggly road map looked like something out of an old glove compartment.

Fighters who've had to live with fighting through bloody lenses don't like guys like me that have this curious quirk about gaping at their tragedy. If Ronnie Wilson or Jose Napoles happen to stumble upon this story,I spologize. Burke,if you can hear me,I have no defense.At least you guys got hurt putting up a fight. I seem to only hurt myself.



My favorite fighter enjoying a Cuban cigar in front of his house in Ciudad Juarez,Mexico.




Star Eyes-Charlie Parker

[dagosd2000]

The Baddest Bear In The Cave

I played on the same high school football team as Leonard. He was a few years older than me.He was the biggest son of a b---h I'd ever seen in my life.His old man descended from a long line of Sicilian fishermen in San Diego. Leonard was 6 foot 3 inches tall and a solid 235 pounds. He had deep set black eyes, that big square jaw, and classic fighter's nose(during the summers we'd go over to Leonard's house and box in the ring Leonard's old man had set up in the back yard).Sometime during those frolics someone had got one in on Leonard and broke his nose.They said Leonard forgot about the Marquess of Queenberry rules long enough to grab the guy who reshaped his snout and grab him by the neck and slam his head against the ring post.Leonard had those thick bushy eyebrows to go along with his thick wavy black hair. When you'd see Leonard in the shower you'd see that thick wavy hair all over his swarthy Italian frame.He was funny and liked to joke around,but if he got upset he'd explode like Mount Etna.His dago blood could boil from the slightest thing that wouldn't mean nothin' to nobody else.Leonard was our leader.What he said goed.We'd follow him into the Valley of Death.

Leonard made all high school everything in football.Hegot a free ride to San Diego State College playing defensive tackle on those undefeated Don Coryell teams.After college Leonard got drafted by the new expansion team in the NFL,the New Orleans Saints. For some reason the Saints held their training camp out on the coast in San Diego at a small private school called Cal Western. I had played a year there after my prep football days were over. They weren't very good,but it was fun and one time we played a game in Hawaii.Anyway, when Leonard got a look from New Orleans a lot of his former high school teammates(me included)went out to see how Big Len would make out.

Expansion teams are comprised mostly of cast offs,players whose best days were behind them. But as washed up as some of those guys were, when they took the field for that first practice,they looked like a bunch of world beaters.They were all big.They were fast.They displayed football movements and had gridiron instincts. When Leonard took the practice field he just looked like one of the guys.I remember one of the Saints' players who was giving it a last try.he was one of my idols when i was growing up in Chicago. He played for the team I lived and died with,The Chicago Bears. The player's name was Doug Atkins.The Bears were called the Monsters of the Midway,and they savored that moniker. George Halas was the founder,owner,and was the coach.Halas was stubborn,ornery,headstrong,and a notorious cheapskate.Atkins played on that NFL championship team in 63 with other monsters like Mike Ditka, Bill George,Joe Fortunato,Stan Jones,and Ed O'Bradovich.Adding to that aura,Red Grange announced the games.Those guys were tough and liked to manhandle the opposition .It was blood and guts with those guys and Atkins was a perfect fit.

Well,if I thought Leonard was big,when he stood alongside Atkins,Leonard looked like his little brother.Atkins was a good ol' Tennessee boy.He played defensive end and one of his patent moves was to grab the guy across from him by the shoulder pads,sling him to the ground,and then hurdle over his prostrate victim.Atkins liked to fight on the field. In fact you could say he was an "instigator."The Bear fans loved it,Halas ate it up.The rest of the NFL didn't like playing the Bears.

As players' contracts needed to be renegotiated,Halas would sew up his pockets. Mike Ditka said Halas threw silver dollars around like they were manhole covers.A lot of Bears would look for other dens and wind up finishing their careers with other teams. Doug Atkins was a case in point.

As much as I wanted to see Leonard perform,I eventually had my focus on Atkins. As the days progressed,Leonard was looking more and more mortal. Atkins on the other hand was still a killer of mortals. He was all over the line of scrimmage. He was intimidating everyone that got in his path.After one of the morning sessions I walked down to the field. i went up to Atkins. It was like looking at Mount Everest.
"I want you to know as a kid growing up in Chicago that you were my favorite Bear."
Atkins was guzzling water from a garden hose.He sloshed his head and looked at me. He had a wide big forehead,high cheekbones,a busted nose,a wide mouth,and receding hair. He was well over 6 foot,the tallest man on the field,and a cut up 270 pounds.
"Well thanks pard,"he said with a great smile and a slow drawl.
"You were the toughest of all the Bears,"I said wanting to acknowledge my hero.
"Well,pard,"he said settling down."There was another guy on that team that we never messed with.He'd kick all our tails."
I was quickly going through my list of Bears trying to figure out who could have kicked Doug Atkins' tail.
"Remember Rick Caseres?"he asked.
"Sure."
"Well no one bothered him.He used to be a pretty good amateur fighter and wanted to turn pro,but his mother made him stop so he turned to football.."
"He was a pretty good fullback,"I said wanting Atkins to know I was on top of things.
"If he hadn't have gotten hurt,he would have been the best."
"Whatever happened to him?"
"He's trying to catch on with another team,"said Atkins."You know that he was only a few yards shy of breaking Steve Van Buren's rushing record in that last game,but Halas sat him on the bench."
"Halas was sometimes difficult."
"Casares could have played in Canada for twice the money,but he always wanted to be a Chicago Bear."
"Really."
"Too bad his mother wouldn't let him be a fighter.He could have been champ.I would have loved to see have seen him fight that other bear,Liston."
Atkins shook my hand that was swallowed inside his palm and walked back to the locker room.

A few days later the Saints cut Leonard.I didn't go back to watch the Saints practice. I don't think they won a game that year.Atkins played on for a few more years and finished with the Saints.They put him in The Hall of Fame. Rick Caseres couldn't shake the injury bug.He faded away.Too bad his mother hated boxing. I would have liked to have seen him in there with Sonny Liston.



The Big Bad Bear,Sonny Liston

[John]

Rick,

This is Babe Antunez, an early opponent of Dwight Hawkins

thanks http://boxrec.com/en/boxer/54243

[dagosd2000]

Rick,

This is Babe Antunez, an early opponent of Dwight Hawkins

thanks http://boxrec.com/en/boxer/54243

Looking at Atunez's record I see he fought at the Hollywood Legion Stadium. I met "Hap" Navarro at a Cal Box Hall of Fame ceremony around 10 years ago. He was the matchmaker at The Legion.He was in his 90's then. I painted this picture of him.When he saw it,he laughed and said that I could have found an image of him when he was a lot younger. We corresponded on the internet for a time. He passed away several years ago. Nicest guy you'd ever want to meet.

[John]

updated his page a little http://boxrec.com/media/index.php/Hap_Navarro

[dagosd2000]

updated his page a little http://boxrec.com/media/index.php/Hap_Navarro

Thanks. That snapshot was probably the one he would have liked me to use for his portrait.Frank Balthazar has a lot of old programs of fights from the Hollywood Legion Stadium. If you dig way back in the thread you can find some of them.

[dagosd2000]

Million Dollar Taco

Canelo says he got the drug Clenbuterol into his bloodstream by eating "contaminated" Mexican meat.Clenbuterol is used to help lose weight. Why would a cattleman want his steers to look like greyhounds? But in today's world there are people who believe this excuse. It was an honest mistake.Canelo is an honest guy. But what is Canelo going to say?:"yeah, I was cheating." It's human nature not to fess up to any wrong doing even if you're caught red handed. Hitler denied his guilt all the way into the bunker.However, isn't one of the cornerstones of Christianity "redemption?"You admit your guilt and then become "born" again.It's a burden off one's shoulders.

Remember Alec Guiness playing that disillusioned Colonel Nicholson who convinces his men,who are prisoners of the Japanese in Burma,that it would be good for moral and self esteem to build a bridge over the River Kwai?As Nicholson and his men are whistling and marching inside the confines of barbed wire and machine gun nests, he even sells Sessue Hayakawa(Colonel Saito) on the idea that his men aren't up to the task and the prisoners can build a "proper bridge.".William Holden(Cmdr. Shears),an American anti war playboy in the camp,thinks Nicholson is not only abetting the enemy cause,but is a nut job.Well Holden escapes and makes it back to where the good guys are.Then jolly 'ol Major Warden(Jack Hawkins) talk Billy Boy to accompany him with a commando squad, that includes some really cute Burmese chicks,to claw through the jungle back to the prisoner of war camp to blow up the British built bridge.In the meantime Colonel Nicholson's quest to build the bridge has been a success. On the morning when the Japanese troop train is to cross over the river on Nicky's bridge is at the same time Billy Boy,Happy Jack,and the Burmese chicks arrive and plant dynamite under the bridge to blow it up.Colonel Nick invites the disgraced Saito to talk a walk on the bridge before the Chop Stick Choo Choo comes around the mountain.But our nutty Colonel Nicholson sees some wires tied under the bridge and becomes concerned.His curiosity takes him down to the river and now he realizes that some naughty people want see his Bridge on The River Kwai falling down.

Well by now we hear the train a comin' and it's going to be touch and go with Billy Boy ,who by now must be wondering how he got involved with this mess,and the nutty colonel frantically trying to disconnect the wires.Then Nicky has an epiphany-a burning bush moment. He sees a wet Bill Holden thrashing towards him in the river,dagger in teeth,and Nicky starts to swoon. He staggers,looks up at the sky,and asks himself muttering,"What have I done?" Then the chickens come home to roost and the nutty colonel falls on the dynamite charge and he blows up his own bridge. All that work went down river along with the Tokyo Express.I mean that could happen.

Canelo ,you need to see that movie.I know it's only a movie,but you can learn something from it. If Colonel Nicholson can realize the errors of his ways,you can too.Whatever taco stand you ate at in Mexico that cost you a fortune is a figment of your imagination. It would make a bad movie.




Canelo-The Unknown Eater

[dagosd2000]

Detroit Product

Rick Farris emailed his program for his upcoming West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame inductions.It's always been a great event,well paced,nonpretentious,very entertaining. Rick doesn't center the gala on himself. He'll say a few sincere words and then let the boxing establishment take center stageThis will be the third year that the event will be held at the nostalgic Beverly Garland Hotel in North Hollywood..My wife Maria and I will the join Rick and his wife Monica afterwards along with my Windy City pal Dan Hanley in the Garland Hotel dining room.

I saw that one of the inductees will be the flashy fighter from Detroit,Hedgemon Lewis,who slugged it in the LA venues with warriors like Indian Red Lopez,Jose Napoles,and Armando Muniz. i was happy to see Muniz's name also on the list of the honored. Indian Red and little brother Danny are already in. I hope they can work Naples in soon.He's not faring too well. He seems kind of isolated in Ciudad,Mexico,and then he's got various health problems.

During the late 60's,early 70's there was that triumvirate of sensational welterweights thrilling the fans in the Southland.Jose Napoles,Indian Red Lopez,and Hedgemion Lewis.Later, Emile Griffith came out west and threw himself into the mix. Then Armando Muniz and Carlos Palomino established themselves as being genuine. Carlos won a belt from Stracey and we all know the story of Muniz in his first fight with Mantequilla. They could have let Armando be champ for awhile,but it wasn't in the cards.

The first time I saw Hedgemon Lewis fight in person was when he fought Indian Red the first time at the Olympic. The place went nuts,especially considering that it wasn't a fight involving a Mexican.I thought Lewis had enough skills to out maneuver Lopez. I wanted Hedge to win,but it became apparent in that fight that Lewis was not a "strong" welterweight. Later,in two more fights with Ernie(Lewis winning one),the two fights with Napoles,and then his final shot at a world title with Stracey, that Lewis didn't pack enough muscle.But Lewis was sure fun to watch. A lot of the scribes out on the Coast were comparing with Ray Robinson at one time..He had that "classic" style,the upright stance.he boxed beautifully.

A few years later I saw Lewis in a fight at the Jai Alai Palace in Tijuana against the Mexican state champ,Raul rodriguez. Lewis slashed open his eyes early.It was quick and deadly. The ref had to stop it or Rodriguez would have bled to death before he left the building.I remember Ryan O'Neal(who had a piece of Lewis) showed up that night with an entourage of Hollywwod celebs. I believe Jennifer O'Neiil was in the group. Well,when they arrived it was like putting frosting on the bran muffins. All the aficianados started whistling and professing loudly how they'd like to romance the gringas and how the men they were with didn't have the machismo to be their companions. After the slaughter was called off the missiles cascaded into the ring and in the direction of the beautiful people from Tinsel City. All the gringos (Lewis was no exception)headed for the exits before they got strung up. Me?Well,I started speaking my best Spanish and they gave me a pass to get out of town with my scalp.

Lewis was still a legit contender.I saw him stay away from Jose Napoles at the Forum for fifteen.It wasn't avery good fight. Ryan O'Neal thought his guy won..I don't know which fight he was looking at.

One time I took a buddy to see the fights at the Coliseum in San Diego.He had never been to a live show. Sitting in front of us were Ken Norton and Hedgemon Lewis.They were in the same stable. Well,the two are sporting shoulder purses.I guess that was a fad back then.My stupid friend blurts out so everyone could hear."Since when do grown men wear purses?"I I've told you the time Norton beat me up pretty good in a sparring session once. I figured if him and Lewis took offense at my friend's observations,I'd let my friend try his luck with Norton. I at least had 50 pounds on Lewis.

I have a feeling Ryan O'Neal has a big part in bringing Hedgemon Lewis out to California for the Hall of Fame ceremony. Rick Farris told me at last year's event that Ryan O'Neal had some project going on in Detroit recently. He said Ryan looked up his old charge.I don't want to go into the specifics because I don't know the exact deails,but O'Neal told Rick that Hedgemon isn't doing too well.We'll see September 30th.Whatever it is,it will be a pleasure to see Hedgemon Lewis again-without his purse.





P.S.
Just got off the phone with Rick Farris. One of the things I asked him was about Hedgemon Lewis. Sad to report that Hedgemon Lewis is in a nursing home in Detroit. He doesn't recognize anyone.I just can't think of anything to say right now.

[dagosd2000]

Body And Soul

Before leaving my thoughts about Hedgemon Lewis,I remember when he fought one time against the tough Mexican journeyman,Jose Luis Baltazar at the old Coliseum in San Diego.Lewis was still a blue chip fighter. He had beaten Billy Backus in his own backyard in Syracuse for some belt called the New York State Commission Title and then in a return go,beat Backus again.You can say Lewis fared a lot better against Basilio's nephew in Syracuse than Jose Napoles.But that's when we started seeing these different belts sanctioned by every commission that came around the pike.Lewis's belt was mostly glitter,but didn't hold much weight.Jose Napoles was the guy you had to beat to be recognized as the number one welterweight in the world.The Baltazar fight was the one before Lewis would return to Syracuse and beat Backus again.

Fighting at the Coliseum during what I consider "The Golden Age of Boxing" in the Southland during the late 60's through the mid 80's served a function.A fighter got his start there,finished up there,or was put in a match as a tune up for something bigger on the horizon. The Baltazar match was the tune up,a good workout against a tough stud from below the border who sported a good "beard." Lewis had gone through a list of Mexican fighters,so to put him in there against Baltazar was the final piece of the puzzle.

Eddie Futch was again in Hedgemon Lewis's corner. The trio completed itself with the addition of stablemate Kenny Norton. After Lewis retired from boxing,Futch invited Lewis to come with him and show him the arts of the trade. (By the way I see Thell Torrance on the docket for Rick Farris' event in September.Lewis after hanging them up also studied under Torrence),I think the fight was supposed to be a hard workout for Lewis ,go a hard ten with a tough hombre.I thought Lewis could finish Baltazar early.Maybe he could have,but the work was more important.After that win,Lewis beat Backus again and was in a run of ten straight victories before he tried Napoles for the second time.Lewis didn't show much in Mexico City. Like I said previously,he didn't have the strength to last with Napoles. I forgot to mention that within that win streak before his second shot at Mantequilla,Futch avoided Indian Red Lopez.Red was also too strong for Lewis.

Again the world title wasn't in the stars for Lewis,but because of his classic style and quality of effort he brought to the ring,he was in big fights all the way to the end. His last fight was against Stracey,another fella' who had the muscle on Hedgemon. It was the last time Lewis would try to gain a world title.

I got all excited when Rick Farris sent me the flyer for his West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame event and I saw Hedgemon Lewis's name on the list of inductees. Rick had mentioned to me last year that Ryan O'Neal had seen Lewis in Detroit and Lewis wasn't doing too well. I kind of gave it some thought,but filed it away in the back of my brain. Then after I wrote the above piece,i phoned Rick about the ceremony on September 30th and brought up the subject of Lewis. When Rick told me that Hedgemon Lewis would not be attending,that he was in a home,didn't know anything besides a thread of life ,,my heart was left with a hole in it. All he has left now is a body and soul,but the fans that came to see him fight will now fill the vacancy recalling all the thrilling moments Hedgemon Lewis gave inside the squared circle



Hedgemon Lewis


Body And Soul-Coleman Hawkins

[scartissue]

You know, Rog, I was never a big fan of the low left hand, but I'll be damned if Hedge didn't make it look sooooo right. His style was so smooth and so relaxed. I really loved it. I brought up a subject to someone a few years back of some of the fights where you were so certain of an outcome only for it to come apart. And Hedge against Stracey was near the top of my list. Of course, it was an end of career loss, but still, I thought Hedge had enough in the tank still. Simply one of the great contenders.