Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

The Classic Of West Coast Boxing

"Classic American West Coast Boxing" wasn't the original name of this thread. Brian Higgins started it off over 10 years ago with the topic regarding Indian Red Lopez.Like a lot of the threads the theme moved into different areas of boxing and a plethora of other places..Then the editors decided to rename the thread Classic American West Coast Boxing.For some reason they took Brian's name off the byline and replaced his name with Frank Balthazar's. I guess it didn't make much difference. There were a lot of contributors,some pretty regular,some that would drop in and then go away after putting in their 2 cents. Then there were the annoying types that wanted to be chronic arguers. I never liked it when I'd get enter into a difference of opinion and then get sandbagged by one of these contrary fellows.Some of their reasoning stemmed from the point that they wanted to get a certain so and so on their side,a kind of divide and conquer.Often if you didn't see it their way the discussion would erode into a stupid personality conflict.After getting chased around by a certain antagonist I left the thread for a couple of years.Sometimes I'd peek at the thread to see what was going on.It was getting pretty down and dirty. But after a couple of years I felt my way back in again.

I think the layoff did me good. Like I said once before,I'd stumble onto some of my early posts and I saw a 60 year old adolescent. I get the quivers reading some of that early stuff. Today,I feel a lot better about what I enter on the thread.But it's a lot more lonelier now. Most of those early posters have jumped ship.There's even a few that have had a ten count tolled over them. It doesn't make any difference to me anymore as long as no one wants to pick a fight on a computer. I'm sailing along on a glassy sea.


My pal Rick Farris started his West Coast Boxing Hall of Fame a few years ago.When he says he's doing it for the fighters,he's telling no lies.Rick wears his heart on his sleeve.He's impulsive,but he'll let you know right away where you stand with him.He ain't in this to make a quick buck.Unl.ike the other guy in town who has his organization and wants to turn a profit and be the center of attention,Rick is on a mission to recognize the past talent on the West Coast. The other guy was a boxing promotor.I'll never forget what this old hot dog said at his event with a smirk to Armando Muniz when he was standing at the dais in front of everybody in the room.At the time Armando was the president of the now defunct World Boxing Hall of Fame. Mr. Smarty Pants points to Armando who's with his group at a table and says to him that International Boxing Hall of Fame is legit,not Armando's World Boxing Organization. Rick used to work for this old guy's association,but when his ego compiled with his arrogance was too much to take,Rick bolted and started up the West Coast Boxing Hall. I've never been back to the other guy's event.


But I get to thinking once in a while about that title,Classic West Coast Boxing. I think if I had to pick a peer,a standard bearer that symbolizes Classic West Coast Boxing,there's always been one name that jumps out ,Art "Golden Boy' Aragon. When there wasn't much in sports out here on the coast,Aragon's name was in the papers the most. Remember, there were no LA Lakers,no Dodgers,only the American Football League Rams.An Aragon fight at the Olympic auditorium was a big showcase.His nickname,"Golden Boy" fit him like an old boxing glove. Maybe he borrowed that nickname from that old flick with Bill Holden by the same name.Holden plays the violin,but deep down inside wants to be a boxer. I never ran across any history of Art Aragon being a fiddle player,but Art,his nickname,his out of ring escapades,and his fighting career qualify him for my image of the Classic West Coast Fighter of all time.Oh,he never won a world title.His flamboyance ingratiated himself with the Hollywood set,especially the starlets.He made movies and could more than hold his own saying his lines.Later, he opened up a bail bond business. His motto was something like,"I'll get you out on bail if it takes me ten years."

I think it was in the 70's when I saw Art Aragon being interviewed by Jim Healy's on his local talk sports show out of LA.Healy wanted to point out especially to the younger fans who Art Aragon was and his impact on the Southland.Near the end of the interview,Aragon began to get emotional. he said that all the ex pugs out there should not be forgotten and that they wanted to put on a good show for the fans and today some of them have physical and financial problems. He stated to break down and couldn't continue. Healy looked at the camera and said that for the audience who hadn't heard of Art Aragon that they should realize that his presence in Los Angeles was Olympian. Aragon still couldn't remove his bowed head from his hands. while Healy continued.


I saw Art Aragon at one of those boxing father and son banquets in Los Angeles.. He was there with his son ,Audie,who was named after the Congressional Medal winner. Aragon was in Audie Murphy's platoon in the movie, "To Hell and Back." Like Audie Murphy,when Art's type of fighting ended,he co starred in a lot of motion pictures.In the process he was trying to bed anything in a skirt that roamed the studio lots.Art Aragon may not have won a world championship,but he could say that he sampled Marilyn Monroe. Not many could make that claim,but then again I might be wrong about that.



Art "Golden Boy" Aragon after the Basilio fight.

[dagosd2000]

All Fighters Get Headaches

When reading Enrique Encinosa's book about Cuban boxing,Hard Leather, he mentioned that Benny Paret after his fight with Federico Thompson went to his trainer Caron Gonzalez and complained to him that he was experiencing headaches and blurred vision. Gonzalez then went to Paret's manager Manual Alfaro and told him that he was worried about Paret and that he should retire.But Alfaro told Gonzalez that "all fighters get headaches."Gonzalez then urged Paret to quit,but Benny said he was making good money, and besides, he had a title shot coming up with Don Jordan.So Gonzalez left not wanting any of this on his hands and Alfaro found another trainer for Paret.


Benny Paret was a v ery gutsy fighter. I remember his two fights with Charley Scott that were televised nationally. They went at each other non stop.The three fights with the great Emile Griffith didn't leave anyone disappointed for a lack of action. After winning the title from Griffith in their second go,Paret's manager thought Benny could go up in weight and beat Gene Fullmer for the middleweight crown.I always thought Paret's best weight was at lightweight.He wasn't a big banger,but he had loads of courage. Fighting a tough guy like Fullmer,especially after having issues with his head,was a real inconsiderate move on Alfaro's part. Paret got hammered by the bigger man. Three and a half months later Paret was back in the ring defending his title against Griffith. That outcome elicited outcries to abolish the sport.

I've talked about how I used to go to the gym and from time to time spar with the real fighters. I shrugged it off saying that I wasn't willing to make the sacrifice to go ahead with being a fighter.amateur nor pro. That's all very true,but the real reason I didn't pursue a boxing career was that after sparring sessions,I'd go home with the headaches. Sometimes they'd last a day or twe.i didn't want to tell anyone about those headaches.I just said that I wanted to focus my athletic aspirations on football and weightlifting.

It scares me today to think back at that time when I'd leave the gym with my head throbbing. Anyone that asked me how I was feeling afterwards,I'd say,"Great!"

There's a lot of young dads out there now that say they will discourage their sons from playing football because of the concussions. I've never heard one of those dads mention boxing.But it's a free country. A man has a right to pick and choose what he wants to do with his life. I used to take my son out to the backyard and we'd put on the gloves. I'd pull my punches mostly,but sometimes I'd let him have it. But all in all we did enough of the boxing thing. I wanted him to know what it was like to put on the gloves.My grandson worked out at Tiger Smalls' boxing gym for 6 months.It was nothing heavy duty,but he got to know how to defend himself a little,and he got to throw some leather.

But if my grandson was to tell me that his head hurt after a sparring session,that would have been it. I would have got him checked out by the docs.This episode with Paret's manager smirking it of by saying that all fighters get headaches and then Benny dying in the ring-well if I'm the DA I'd be looking at a manslaughter rap to throw at him.


My grandson Adam working his jab at Tiger Smalls' Gym

[dagosd2000]

The Average Man

Most people in the world are average.It doesn't really matter about race or reliogion or title.Call it a silent majority or someone who posts his opinions on a boxing forum,most people are somewhere in the middle.They may think they are smarter and wiser,but they share that thought with just about everyone else. But let's give credibility to the average man. There is nothing wrong with being average. Harry Truman,when asked about the average man,answered,"What's wrong with being average?"Saint Peter will not open the pearly gates to anyone because of social status,wealth,or fame necessarily.What's inside one's heart and how he's behaved will determine entrance to the land of supreme happiness.

When I think of fighters,I don't think of them as being average. I mean how many people want to partake in a career where you try to bash another man's brains out? But strip away that veneer of pugilism and you'll find a lot of average types. Most fighters have come up from the depths and struggle to fight their way to the top.A fighter is fortunate to be a contender.Most fighters I have seen have a faith in a supreme being.How many times when a fighter is interviewed in the ring after a fight,the first words out of his mouth are,"First,I want to thank God."But that's usually what the winners say.I'm sure if the losers had been the winners they would have thanked God also.


When you watch a pro baseball,football,or basketball game most of those players went to college and got a degree.I don't consider them average even if they didn't finish school.Their faces are on TV and in the papers too much to fall into the average category. Fighters on the other hand haven't had much schooling because they had to make money in one way or the other pronto and couldn't come up with the dough to go to the university like the others.They usually didn't have the time to play any high school sports(if they got that far in school)because their parents(if they had both or one,sometimes none around)couldn't afford to give them an allowance.Besides,the last I heard colleges don't give out scholarships for boxing.


T think the championship match with Carlos Palomino and Armando Muniz was the first title fight between two fighters with college diplomas.Gene Tunney acted like he was Phi Beta Kappa from Harvard because he was always quoting Shakespeare and thumbed his nose at the sport from time to time.His arrogance made him a pariah with the fans.I often think if he had not lost that one fight with Greb(they fought 5 times Tunney winning 2 losing I and the draw)he would have been undefeated.His record would have been something like 80 wins no defeats and a draw.But when a discussion starts about the greatest heavyweights and light heavyweights,Tunney's name is on the pay no mind list. Primo Carnera gets more print than "The Fighting Marine."


Human beings look for heroes to aspire to. Their exploits and successes are something that the Walter Mitty's of the world can't write down in their diaries. But there's no shame in that.Like I said,Saint Peter doesn't check to see if you're wearing a title belt around your waist when you're standing at those pearly doors.But don't forget,you can still be an average "Joe" and burn in hell.


Carlos Palomino

[dagosd2000]

You Should Have Been There

When the little Jewish founder of The Ring Magazine,Nat Fleischer, was still at the helm publishing his journal during the 60's through the 70's,he was incredulous about how the modern day fighter wouldn't hold up against the best of the turn of the century.His "Bible of Boxing",as what he called his magazine,would print lists noting that he was the originator of these rankings of who were the best from top to bottom in each division.Some examples were that Bob Fitzsimmons would master Joe Louis,Stanley Ketchel could wup Ray Robinson,and Philadelphia Jack O'Brien would do away with Archie Moore.His reasoning was based on a couple of things. Those old timers fought longer distances in bouts which made them tougher and Nat had seen those old guys(at least that's what he claimed)so you had to take his word for it. Just because he was older than dirt,Fleischer felt he had you at a disadvantage because you weren't even a twinkle in your dad's eye when he saw Joe Gans fight 40 rounds with battling Nelson.


But for now,I'll back up the stubborn little East Side scribe. Those old timers had to be tough.I mean Gans is fighting Nelson in the desert heat of Goldfield,Nevada with TB inside his lungs.Sam Langford is fighting with one eye through the end of his career after big Fred Fulton hits him so hard that Sam doesn't tell no one about the blow short circuiting one of his lamps.Fighters in those days didn't wear mouth shields nor protective cups,loaded their gloves with ample amounts of plaster of Paris,and had the advantage of lurking over a fallen opponent instead of being sent to a neutral corner.Biting,gouging,,and thumbing were a part of a fighters repertoire. I don't think the promotors cared much for a man's well being before a match either. How could they permit Billy Miske fight an animal like Jack Dempsey when Miske had been diagnosed with terminal Bright's Disease?And another thing;looking at their records often these battlers,they would fight a dozen or more times a month.


Yeah ,Nat you might have been right,and then again one can make a good case that you were off the mark.You were adamant.You had seen those founding fathers of the glove era in person. We hadn't.You wouldn't budge.

There's not much celluloid showing many of those fights way back when.Most of the film is grainy and shot at distances so far away that the combatants look like two praying mantises.But who am I to criticize?For the hell of it I'll start a discussion in a bar in Tijuana with the suggestion that Jose Napoles could have beaten Julio Cesar Chavez.These aficianados, that are around my kids' ages ,give me these puzzled looks.They don't argue with me though. Maybe they think I've seen something that they missed out on. Move over Mr. Fleischer.


Joe Gans

[dagosd2000]

Sit Around And Wait

Tijuana has this unwritten code regarding the cantinas. If a man wants to go to a bar he has to go downtown,most likely to the Coahuila,Tijuana's red light district.. There aren't any bars in the colonias,the suburbs.There's no beef about not having any bars in the neighborhoods. Everyone understands the logic behind it. If a man wants to get drunk in a bar and whore around ,he ain't going to do it where he lives in front of his wife and kids..Oh,you can go to a little neighborhood aborrotes and buy a some cahuamas or a liquor store and get a bottle of teqila,but if a man wants to seriously tie one on and sit in a booth with a girl,he better find his way to the centro.Bars in TJ open at 10 am.They close,depending on who's palm gets greased,sometimes when the sun starts rising. The cantina is as ingrained into the Mexican culture as much as the corrida,many of those songs telling of tales inside the cantina.


At 10 am you won't find many girls working inside the bars.The ones that frequent them are usually old and overweight.They'll hustle some drinks(they'll split the cost of a drink with the bar.They call it the ficha) and maybe get some drunk from the night before who hasn't gone home to spend what's left in his pockets follow one of these fallen flowers to one of the numerous rat trap hotel rooms within the red light area.. For 3 bucks American for the price of the room and add on another 20 for the girl he can get throwed and blowed for 20 minutes. After time's up there's a heavy rap on the door signifying that show must come to an end.

But there's very little action inside the cantinas before dark. Outside along the street, standing in designated spots determined by the police, work more girls who generally are younger and prettier. The rates are the same for these girls.They work outside in the daylight because they don't like to drink and in the afternoon they want to go home and be with their kids.Notice I didn't mention husbands.


At night is when things begin to get going.The bars get crowded with girls and the men who want to get get away from their wives and kids and releaee the pressure. Sometimes in the seedier clubs,the ones with the low ceilings and the sawdust on the floor,the men are in there just to dance with girls. A dance nowadays is a buck U.S.But in the more notorious establishments like the Adelitas,the Chavelas,and the Hong Kong the aim of the customer is below the female waistline. Not just any woman can work in these places. They have to pass muster. They are young,pretty,conditioned to night life,and have to get as many Johns up to bed with them or they they can stand outside in the daylight.Going rates for these femme fatales are 60 dollars for her another 10 for the room.


You might think the red light district is a dangerous place to be letting off steam. Just the opposite. The cops control everything.The girls have to pay the cops off to work,need to have up to date health cars on them,not to mention that if they work inside the cantina they must kick some of their profits upstairs to the owner. if a girl works outside she has to stay in her assigned spot. A man can't touch these girls anywhere or grab,no holding hand,no kissing. if a drunk gets out of line for some reason with a girl he'll either get his pockets turned inside out by the cops or sit overnight with a lump on his head inside the Tijuana Jail.


But all this description of sordid fun has an Achilles Heel. When there is a big fight on TV inside the cantinas all interaction between the sexes comes to an abrupt halt. The girls hate it when there' a fight on the screen.All the men crowd around the flat screens and become fight aficianados. Their devotion of what's unfolding inside the ring takes precedent to all the split tails sitting around in their mini faldas that have the splits up the sides. They snap their gum or smoke a cigarette waiting for the final outcome so the men can re focus their libidos.


I get it. Maybe there's some women that understand.. But for the most part I think those women must think that there might be something bisexual about those men congregated around those televisions. It's not uncommon to hear some of these girls remark in disgust,"Pinchi putos!"



The world famous Adelita Bar.They even have a shuttle service back and forth from the border and a gift shop

[dagosd2000]

I Want To Believe

I've always wanted to believe that Charley Burley was one of the all time greats. i overheard Archie Moore say that Burley was the best fighter he ever fought."He was like fightin' hot grease on a skillet." There were a lot of champoins,some great,that didn't want any part of Burley. They say Cerdan,They bring up Billy Conn.Those two guys were great ones,but didn't want to sign a contract.And you can ask where were LaMotta and Graziano. Of course there's the story about Robinson and Burley were to have a trilogy series.The wise guys would fix the first two matches,each boy winning one,then the rubber match would be on the level. All that is the stuff dreams are made of.

But it wasn't only Charley that got the door slammed in his face.The black fighters on that list of "Murderers Row":Lloyd Marshall,Eddie Booker,Jack Chase, Bert Lyteli,and Holman Williams to name drop a few coulda shoulda woulda if the prejudiced public and promoters would have jumped in with both feet.Before the war if there was a black champ,the crusade was on for a white guy who would hopefully get the pecking order right again with winning back the crown.

Archie Moore was one of those black fighters that kept fighting everyone within the "Muderers Row" category until eventually father time would eliminate one of them from the club. But Doc Kearns,that mischievous little rascal, opened the door for the Mongoose by maneuvering a deal to get Moore as his meal ticket before his fight with another of Doc's cash cows,Joey Maxim,the light heavy champ. Talk about covering your bases. After Moore beat Maxim quite handily,Charley Burley had retired from the sport.


After the war black fighters started to get their shots..The anglo athlete,at least in the good ol' USA,began participting in less violent sporting events. The Italian fighters hung on for awhile,but lookng at the rankings today,I don't see too many drops of snow.But if Archie Moore was shooting from the hip,Charley Burley was in the pantheon of the boxing greats.Moore had faced some pretty good ones in his long career,but Archie would shake his head and remark that Burley was the best he ever fought. .

But you might be asking yourself why I titled this piece"I Want To Believe."It's because the only film footage of Burley is an old copy of his fight with Oakland Billy Smith,not a "Murderers Row" guy.When I first watched this clip,I thought Smith was Burley.I can watch this movie over and over again,but i still can't see the magic in Charley Burley.But I think I stand alone with this vision.When I was helping Moore out at his boy's club and said to him that Charley Burley never showed me much,the old Mongoose probably would have started a comeback and I would have found myself on the seat of my pants ouitside in the parking lot.


Charley Burley


,

[dagosd2000]

The Sermon

"Did you watch the Crawford fight last night?"I asked James Kinchen at the Helping Hands of God Church out on Imperial Avenue east in Encanto.
"No I didn't ,"he answered politely with a hint of inquisitiveness in his voice.

Today,James "The Heat" Kinchen is a reverend at the Helping Hands of God. Most of the congregation knows that he was once a fighter,but not much beyond that.Either they are too young to remember or they are the passive older ones who don't care very much about sports. James doesn't seem to mind. I've never heard him initiate a conversation with anybody about boxing or much less his career.

Before services begin,James always stops by where I'm sitting in one of the pews and asks how things are going.He also knows that I'll bring up something about fighting,not that he wants his ego fed,but just something for old times sake.



"Terence Crawford," I said."He's a welterweight. He beat this guy Jeff Horn who beat Pacquiao for the championship."
James had on a tailored gray suit,a pearl white long sleeve shirt,turquiose tie,black charcoal gray leather shoes polished like mirrors. He wore a clerical collar around his neck signifying his title.James pulled an iPhone from his pocket and spoke slowly."Terence Crawford."
"I see he's a southpaw,"he said looking at the image.
"Oh,he is?I didn't know that. I don't keep up with it much anymore either."


James is 60 years old now. He fought as a middleweight. I'd say he's below that weight today. His face is broad shaped with a graying fu man chu mustache.He's still got that square shaped haircut,His eyes stay focused on you when he talks and likes to to get close up to you when he makes a point. He's got the fighter's nose and the rich dark skin.I can't get over looking at his hands. They're heavy and big.The fingers are not long,but thick and weighty.It must have been like getting hit with a couple of bricks when he landed.

"James,do you think fighters are better today than in your time and before that?Fighters still have to make the same weight exceprt for the heavies."
James shook his head and peered into my eyes.
"All I know is when I fought you had to get a lot more fights under your belt before you got a title shot.Today,a fighter has ten fights and he's fighting for the championship.The promotors get a hold of a guy and he gets all the good fights.When I fought it was Don King who dangled money in front of these guys and they signed with him and the they'd never get a cut of the gate or the TV. Mike Tyson was making money before Don King took him away.I made 200 thousand when I fought Tommy Hearns.I would make a hundred thousand here and a hundred thousand there. I was sick with the flu before I fought Roldan,but I couldn'r back out.I got the hell kicked out of me that night. I wound up in the hospital.My medical bill just about wiped out my purse. These fighters don't go too far in school.They're surrounded by guys who steal their money. I told Bobby D'Philippis not to scew around with me. All I know is when left boxing I had ten dollars left in my wallet.The people you could trust back then was the Duvas. They looked out for you. I was with them for awhile. They were good people. Not like the others.Mr. Moore wa a great champion,but he was surrounded by people who wantd to steal his money. All he wanted to do is fight. He didn't want to deal with the finances.All we fighters knew how to do was fight.When we couldn't fight anymore we were left alone.I had a wife and five kids and 40 dollars in my pocket and couldn't get a room at some flea bag motel in National city for the night. My junky car was running on fumes.I was at rock bottom.But now I'm here.I've found the Lord.He save me.It's in his hands.I don't tell no one I'm a reverand. God doesn't care about that. He looks inside your heart and knows. Thank the Lord.Amen."
James stopped talking and took a breath.
"Well brother Roger it was always good talking with you.I better get up to the pulpit now.I've got a semon to give."


Lou Duva

[dagosd2000]

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[dagosd2000]

Taking A Little Off The Top

Just off the top of my head:Armando Muniz told me that he started to experience nerve damage in his shoulder during his second fight with Jose Napoles.Knowing that Armando put everything on the line when he was in the ring,I asked him about his last fight with Ray Leonard. Ray was ahead but Armando didn't look like he was under duress.Then he wouldn't come out of his corner for the 7th round-career over.Armando told me he couldn't throw his jab without feeling a whip lash pain in his shoulder.He put his health and family above his career at that point.


Similar story with Fargo,North Dakota middleweight Andy "The Kid" Heilman.Andy was in there against the veteran San Diego fighter Ronnie Wilson. Andy was ahead on the cards and it looked like he would get an easy decision. The bell rings for the 7th round and Andy sits there. -career over.I heard Andy talk at a California Boxing Hall of Fame Banquet. He said ,regarding that fight,that he experienced something like a panic attack. He didn't want to fight anymore. It wasn't worth it.He did say at the banquet that he thanks God that he still has his health.


Nerve damage was also what ended Canadian Art Hafey's career. But the nerve damage was spreading throughouyt his whole body. Art's big shot was the left hook. Again,at a California Boxing Hall of Fame event,he said he couldn't throw the hook without having pain shoot up his shoulder. Art lives in Canada now and he looked to be in good shape at the induction.

Yesterday,when I told you that James "the Heat" Kinchen said he had the flu before his fight with Juan Domingo Roldan,but he didn't want to back out of the fight because he'd lose his purse. James thought that he could maybe work something off his jab and eke out a decision. Kinchen was so sick,he thought he was going to die in the ring that night. After the fight they took him in an ambulance to the hospital.Prior to Kinchen's fight with Roldan,Tommy Hearns made short work of Roldan for a part of the middleweight title. Tommy thought he'd have an easy mark with Kinchen. Well,James got robbed against Hearns in Las Vegas. It was a majority decision.Today, Las Vegas seems to be the biggest venue for the biggest fights.Yet there have been so many bad decisions in that town,I guess you have to bet it on which promotor has the biggest name fighter.Big doesn't necessarily translate to fairness.



Ray Leonard

[dagosd2000]

The Last Leaf On The Tree

Last year when I went back to visit the CREA Boxing GYM in Tijuana I didn't think I'd recognize anyone because it had been such a long time since I had last been there.I wasn't sure what time the boxing gym opened.I got there around one o'clock.Parking at the CREA facility,the government run park, is always bad.There's no parking lot so you have to park along the street.Padre Kino Boulevard runs right by the CREA and that makes trying to find a space even more difficult because just down the street is the Palacio Municipal,Tijuana's building that houses its city offices. I was lucky to have found a spot to park my car along the street near the gym.I asked a cab driver, whose taxi was parked next to my car ,if he knew what time the boxing gym opened.The taxista was disheveled and tired looking.His saggy face needed a shave and his mustache a trim.
"The fighters come around in about an hour,"he said.
I thanked him and walked inside the gate.I asked a couple of kids playing basketball if the boxing gym was still under the bleachers. They said it was , but weren't sure if it was open today

As I walked toward the concrete bleachers,I noticed that the grass on the soccer field had died down to a dusty gravely dirt from a lack of being watered.Most of the asphalt on outside basketball courts was breaking up exposing the ground underneath.All the nets on the hoops were missing.The bleachers were strewn with papers and empty stepped on soda cups.Many of the office spaces were vacant, the windows busted out. I was surprised there wasn't more graffiti on the sides of the walls.The air was hot and gusts of wind swirled the trash over the soccer field. My nostrils were dry and it wasn't comfortable breathing. I saw a soda machine and started to walk towards it when I saw that it had been broken into.It looked like it had been vandalized a long time ago.


The door underneath the gym was slightly ajar. I poked my head inside.There were broken tables and chairs stacked on top of each other. Old worn boxing gear,head gears,gloves,and torn and deflated punching bags were stacked in a pile in a dark corner.A plain dark looking girl came out from somewhere and stood alongside me. She was stooped shouldered and wore her black hair straight down her back.She had an Indian nose and full lips.She had on a baggy pair of black sweat pants and a white T Shirt. She modestly smiled up at me. Her teeth were large and full.
"Can i help you?"she asked with a shy smile. Her voice was high and squeaky.
"When do the fighters get here?"
"in about an hour,"she said still smiling,and walked away.
I saw that the gym was upstairs.No one was there yet.I walked up the stairs and sat on a metal folding chair.It was like I remembered it,maybe not precisely,but the atmosphere,the rustic charm put me into a time warp.A couple of boxing rings,All sorts of punching bags and boxing gear on a mantle to one side of the room.The sunlight shone through the upper windows .I could see the haze and the dust slowly moving around the beams of light.The rings,the gear,would all be put to use soon.
Romulo Rodarte,came in a little after a few fighters had arrived first. Rodarte was there with two of his sons.Seeing him caught me off guard. I didn't think he'd still be around.His presence commanded a respect from the other fighters.You could see that he was in charge,but he wasn't barking orders.There was no drill sergeant in him,but when he gave a direction it was followed.I heard some of the fighters call him "Maestro."He was looking at everything at once. His sons watched their father waiting to be told what was next on the training agenda.


With a break in the action i walked over to the old trainer. He peered at me with strong brown eyes and asked me who I was.I told him that i used to come in with one of the football players from CETYs when i was coaching there.
"You're Sergio's friend,"he beamed..
"Yes,I used to come here when you were training your son in law,Jibero Perez."
His face frowned.
"He's not my son in law anymore,"he grumbled,but quickly changed to a pleasant demeanor after his declaration
I could see that the years had gracefully aged his face.it was fuller, but robust. His hair was receding and he wore glasses now,but his body still looked strong.He had a seriousness about him though he never distanced himself from anyone..But then again,he wasn't a man to act stupid around. He was too old school.i could see he was wearing a back brace,but when he moved around the gym he walked without a hitch.
His sons told me that their father was still training fighters(if you wanted to call them that)to keep them away from the riff raff on the streets:the cartels,the gangs,the dope.His sons were happy to know that Knew their father.Romulo Rodart didn't have any Jibaros or Senior Chavezes anymore.But everyone knew who he was.He didn't have to drop any names.Before I let him get back to business,he grabbed my shoulder.
"I still train Jibero,"he said smiling."See that big guy in the corner.That's jibaro's son. He's a dentist."
I walked over to where Jibaro Jr. was shodow boxing and said that i used to watch his father train with Rodarte in the CREA. Then i took a picture.A real nice guy.I guess there's some things you can't let go of.



Romulo Rodarte



Son of Jibaro

[dagosd2000]

Unintended Encore

The new bartender at Champs was drawing me a beer when he remarked," Read your post yesterday on the forum.Didn't you write that story before?"
"Yes I did,"I answered.
The new bartender,whose name is Jeff, used to work at the Night Owl in Pacific Beach.When he heard that Ed had left,he asked Shirley's grandson(the owner now since Shirley and Burke have passed) if there was any room for him. He got hired onto the morning shift. A real pleasant sort,fair skinned,medium build,a shaved head,nothing remarkable about his face that you would remember him later on.He looked like he was in his 40's but had such light skin it looked like he'd only need to shave maybe once a week,and that wasn't probably his entire mug He spoke in a low monotone voice,the volume never rising nor lowering which would give his words a meaningful reflection. As usual in the morning, Champs was pretty empty and quiet.
"Then why did you write it again?"he asked as he set the glass on a coaster.
"I didn't intend to go that way,but when I finished I realized I had just about told the same story.The only thing that was different was the title."
"What was the title before?"
"I forget."
"What did you set out to do?"
"Well I didn't want to get into writing about Romulo Rodarte and Jibaro Perez again. I wanted to say something about how the government of Mexico short changes the people when it comes to offering them public recreational facilities.Then I kept on going and then when I wrote about walking into the CREA Gym I knew I'd wind up repeating myself."
"I haven't been to Tijuana in over 20 years,"said Jeff as he topped off my glass of beer."
"Unless you've got business or family down there you ain't missing much,"I said.
"So Tijuana doesn't provide much for its citizens ?"
"As far as parks,schools,libraries,decent roads,an honest government-no. You want me to go on?"
"I've heard enough horror stories,"he said.
"You know if you just walk around Tijuana,the poverty is what strikes you. The violence happens in the dark corners, or sometimes they'll kill everyone in the middle of everything."
"I'll stay up here,"said Jeff wiping the counter with a towel.
"They made a big issue about Chicago having the country's highest murder rate. Over 700 murders.In Tijuana last year they had over 900."
"I ain't going down there,"he said.
"I go down maybe twice a week.Got my daughter down there. Grandkids,great grandkids.Lots of friends. My dentist is in TJ. My GP.The lady who frames my artwork.I worked there at a private school coaching American football.To tell the truth I feel more at ease down there than up here."
"I don't understand,"said Jeff tossing the towel under the bar."To me all Mexicans are the same. You can't trust them."
"I can see why you don't understand."
"Anyway,do you want another beer?"
"No, I've had my fill."

[dagosd2000]

Ham And Eggs

Harry Truman referred to modern art as "ham and eggs." When Winston Churchill was presented a portrait of himself by the artist Graham Sutherland at Westminster Hall commemorating the Prime minister's 80th birthday,ol' Winnie turned to the easel and scoffed with sarcasm,"a remarkable example of modern art." As you know by now,I like to paint.


Before the invention of the camera,artists were commissioned to paint portraits of their clients' family,wife and kids. The Renaissance artists made their living painting(and sculpturing)Christian religious figures.Jesus got a lot of brush strokes.Saints and nobility used up a lot of pigment also.But the purpose was to match,or try to emulate, the faces with exactness. Capturing the figure was paramount.When the product was finished and hung on the wall,the passerby could say,"Yeah,that's him(or her) all right!" There are just of trickle of landscapes that were put on canvas before the advent of the camera. If you wanted to see mountains and trees,you could go outside and sit on a boulder and let your thoughts dream away.


Then in the early part of the 19th century a fella by the name of Nicephore Niepce constructed a crude device that could copy an image onto a piece pf paper. By the middle of the century the advances of photography put many artists into a state of depression looking in the want ads for another line of employment.


But in a way the camera opened the door for new modes of using brushes and paint.Maybe the public would take notice of looking at someone stretched around the canvas differently,an abstract rendition,not the usual conventual outcome. Moving towards the end of the century the Goyas,the Van Goghs,the French Impressionists, were trying to get their stuff on the walls of the Louvre.They weren't exactly embraced. Their work was considred weird,shocking,amateurish-gimmicky. But it took a world war to shake the culture of the world into something different. Not onlty did this aftershock affect art,but literature,music,dress styles,morals.Was it progress or decadence? With the new freedom there were more models on display. Along came Freud ,Picasso,and jazz and the young foljks began to assert themselves.


Another one of these world wars came along 20 years later and now the new wave grew into tsunami proportions. Now anything goes in art. Jackson Pollock became vogue. He was called a genius. Hell,it's all so subjective anyway. Vomit on the sidewalk and you might make a million dollars.Get the right huckster to go to bat for you and who knows,you're living on Park Avenue doing shows at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Sotheby's is your vendor.You just sit back and become self absorbed.


I guess they found a DaVinci hidden away in some attic.After authenticating the painting ,it went for a cool 400 million. You can cook up all the ham and eggs you want,but the old masters still command filet mignon.


When I began taking up the brush I thought I could rub shoulders with maybe not Rembrandt,but I could give Picasso a shot in the ribs. Time would whittle my ego down to a nub. I sold a few here and there. I sold a painting of Charlie Parker,the jazz musician,for a couple of grand,but most of my stuff I let go for a couple of hundred bucks or less. Since I post often on the forum ,I try to keep fighters in my portfolio..I've displayed some of my paintings at the various boxing events in the Southland. Most of the time I just give my portraits away to the corresponding fighters. Most of them don't have the dough to buy paintings unless it's someone like a Mayweather,and you usually don't see these guys at these events,and if they do show up,you can't get close to them.Besides,they feel they are entitled to a freebie.

You guys remember that guy Granberry? He PM'd me once and asked me which fighter I like to paint the most.Without hesitating,I answered ,Joe Louis. There was nothing pretentious about him. He didn't pose for a picture with any fakery. He was USDA Quality Prime. When I sit down go to work on him,I know it doesn't do him justice,but then again,I like ham and eggs.


I painted another Joe Louis today.I'll have a side order of hash browns.whole wheat toast,orange juice,and coffee.

[dagosd2000]

Si Si El Tri

Yesterday I went to Tijuana and on all the street corners,in the windows of the stores,the line going back into the U.S.:racks upon racks of Mexican team soccer jerseys.I had an impulse to buy one ,but I never reached for my wallet.When I saw that the Mexico team was in the same group as the defending world champions,Germany,I straightened my back. Then to see that Mexico was going to open up with the Germans,I began to say a little prayer.


First of all let me say I don't know the nuts and bolts of soccer. The Mexican team's coach was being trashed pretty hard by the press and the fans. They've always been an up and down team.It seems they have good players,but they can't come together as a team.If there's any sport that is going succeed with a "team concept" as the foundation of winning,it's soccer.Latinos have this trait of pointing fingers if things don't pan out their way.They see life as predestined so if the world comes crashing down they'll say "no es mi culpa."I've never heard my wife take the blame for anything that went awry in her universe. So I figured Mexico would lose to Germany,not by a rout,but that they'd play with gusto until there was a let down and then the German juggernaut would come crashing down on the Tri in the end.The fingers would be pointing and it would be the same old story.


There's no other sport on the planet that symbolizes the nationalism of a country as soccer. Here in the United States it's not that way. The MSL is growing in popularity,but those stadiums' seats are mostly filled with butts that weren't born in America.If the U.S. didn't qualify for the World Cup,it's no big deal. The fans that attend the MSL just wait every four years when their countrymen team up with their paisanos for the World Cup ,and then the MSL is filed away in No Man's Land.


Well,I just had to see what was going to happen this morning. Like I said,I don't know the nuances of soccer,but I can sense when the other guy is playing his ass off,wants it more,outhustling his opponent.The Mexican team was flying around like a meteor shower. The Germans played like they'd just consumed a big plate of sausages washed down with ample amounts of beer.

I thought maybe Germany would wake up in the second half. They played harder,but El Tri was up to their challenge.It was the biggest win the history of Mexican soccer.But it's no cakewalk to hold the World Cup in your hands.My brother in law owns a bar in Tijuana. He must have made a killing. As I'm typing this,the money is still rolling in. His cash register will be singing "We're in the Money" until Mexico gets eliminated.But who kniows? You can never tell with Mexico. Just when you think they are down and out,they outlast,endure. Like the cucaracha,that prehistoric creature of song,,they are the last ones living. when everything else has vanished.



La Cucaracha

[dagosd2000]

The Only Thing A Bully Is Afraid Of Is A Bigger One

Kenny Norton only lost seven fights in his 60 bout career.When he came out of the Corps here in San Diego,after compiling an impressive amateur record in the service,he began his pro career in various local venues in the Southland.,He was built like an Adonis. Had two real sharp trainers in Eddie Futch ,and later after Futch's death,Bill Slayton.There wasn't much quality local competition for Ken in the area.The only big name was Jerry Quarry,but I don't think Norton's people believed Kenny was ready to take on The Irishman.


Early in his career Norton had this problem of running out of gas against his opponent in the middle rounds. He'd hit the wall for some reason,but because the guys staring him in the face were mediocre at best,Norton would prevail,sometimes by a thread. No,Jerry Quarry would have to come later. if Norton was going to have to solve his dilemma.In the summer of 1970 Norton's corner that he had the goods to beat the Venezuelan heavyweight ,Jose Luis Garcia.They put the match in the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles.I knew in my gut that it was going to Kenny's Waterloo.I'd seen Garcia fight on TV. He was no stiff like many of the others that had taken Norton to the threshold.Garcia was tall and could snap his punches off with steam on them.The fight went the way I figured. Norton ran out of gas midway through the fight. His tongue was hanging out,arms drooping at his sides.Just as the bell rang to end the 8th, Garcia uncorks a straight right hand.The next thing you know Norton is lying unconscious in the middle of the ring.

There used to be an eatery near the Marine Base called the Chuck Wagon. It was one of those buffet all you can eat places. It was a very popular spot. The Chuck Wagon also had a showroom that featured entertainment.One of the headliners was this hypnotist who called himself Dr. Dean.(Regis Philbin got his start in show biz by introducing Dean's act) Somehow Dr. Dean and Norton got hooked up after the Garcia fight.What puzzled Norton was that he trained diligently,but for some reason couldn't retain his stamina.Dr. Dean told Norton he lacked self confidence.He hypnotized Norton and gave him a book called Think And Grow Rich.After the therapy Norton got back on the winning track eventually upsetting Muhammad Ali here in San Diego. Norton looked a lot stronger at the end of 12 than Muhammad ,broken jaw and all.It looked like Norton had got it fixed once and for all,but I wasn't sold.


I always thought Ken Norton was a little arrogant,at least when he was fighting all those weak sisters at the start of his career.He was a bit of a bully.I didn't think Norton liked being in there with a banger.When the Foreman fight was put together,I knew Norton would be in there with a puncher. The fight was a joke.Some of George's punches didn't even land solidly,but there's Norton swooning against the ropes.he was psyched out.


But ol' Kenny put on fantastic shows with Larry Holmes ,Jimmy Young,and twice more with Ali. Of those six fights Norton "lost" twice to Ali,but whatever you think he gave Ali more trouble than Ali gave him.The Holmes fight was toe to toe, Larry's punches couldn't put Norton on his back.

But I always knew Dr. Dean,Eddie Futch,nor Bill Slayton had no cure for Norton's fragile chin against the heavies that could take you out with one shot.Later it was Shavers and finally Cooney that validated my instincts. Norton came back later to knockout Garcia,but Jose Luis was a drunk by then suffering from the aftermath of a manslaughter rap.He was fat and beyond hope as a fighter.

I've told you guys about how Norton busted me up in a sparrng session once. I've beaten that one to death,but let me reiterate,I knew nothing about how to defend myself . He took a satisfaction hurting me.He never pulled a punch. They had to step in or I might have been seriously hurt.That's when I knew that Norton was a bully. I knew that he'd get his sooner or later.That first time against Jose Luis Garcia al the hypnotists and self help books in the world couldn't have prevented Norton from getting knocked out at The Olympic that night. The ref could have counted over him with a calendar.



Ken Norton later in life

[dagosd2000]

Kansas

I once heard a film critic say that he couldn't understand why Dorothy wanted to leave the Land Of Oz and return to Kansas.Maybe he was half joking,but what was so interesting in Kansas when Oz was this fairyland come true.(Remember Dorothy got conked on the head and was only dreaming her life in Oz) Archie Moore never in my presence pined for his hey day when he was champ of the world.When Burke Emery had his place down the street from where I lived,about the only time he'd bring up boxing was when you asked him about it. He was more interested in the next dart tournament. I go to these boxing events in the Southland and most the ex fighters are there to see each other again and get reacquainted with old friends. I've never seen a fighter hold court and give a diatribe of his pugilist history.


Some fighters, after throwing in the towel,stay in the sport.You see ex pugs working the corners.Just about every gym has an ex fighter as an instructor.Some former fighters reach for the gusto. Oscar De La Hoya is making more money now promoting than when he did fighting. There are a lot of old names that have quit keeping up on the sport.They don't even attend the fights anymore.I think an athlete,especially,the ones who were on the top,know that the adulation is now bestowed on the guys at the pinnacle today. It's sad,but many superstars that get all the hype don't even know who were the groundbreakers in their sport.

The other day I was talking about boxing with James "The Heat" Kinchen.He mentioned Archie Moore.(James refers to Archie Moore as "Mr. Moore").I told him about how a deal was made for the Mongoose to get his shot at Joey Maxim for the title shot.Maxim's manager was Doc Kearns.If Archie wins,then Kearns jumps over to his corner.That's the deal.James was listening all hunkered down.Today,James is into his Christianity.George Foreman,Evender Holyfield are also strong believers in Jesus. Ali emersed himself with Islam.Years ago when the late Ed Bradley interviewed the retired Ali at his farm in Michigan,Bradley discovered that all of Muhammad's belts,trophies,and medals were stowed away covered with cobwebs,mice droppings,and pigeon poop.

If Ali,Moore,and Foreman had never been fighters they know that the attention seekers wouldn't come around. The scribes ,for the most part,finagle the trust of the once famous,and then write the story their way. The reporters can get more headlines printing controversy than by describing what a fine fellow he has just sat down with. Any achilles heel,just a tiny chink in the armor, will get the bloodthirsty reader to buy copy or tune in to the station.All these talking heads are experts. The phone callers know everything.Kind of wants me to follow a yellow brick road to Kansas.



Joey Maxim

[dagosd2000]

The Tipping Point

They say that the nose is sort of a underrated sense. They say smells can trigger thoughts more than the other senses.Every time I smell a fresh mowed turf,I think of what it was like waiting to have to go out to football practice.I remember sitting in my 6th period speech class in the old 400 building that was right across from the football field. The classroom was on the second floor.The open windows would let in the smell of the grass from the football field. If the grass had been cut that morning,the smell would be enhanced.I hated that smell. I hated that smell because that meant when class was over,I'd have to go down to the locker,put on my gear,go to chalk talk,then trudge out to the football field and practice.And I mean we'd practice. We had a coach who was a sadist when it came to conditioning. He'd run us after practice until we'd drop. In those days there were no water breaks.We'd be staggering and groaning up and down the field,our legs feeling like sacks of buckshot. When our coach would finally see that we'd become deferred to crawling amoebas,he finally gloat, calling off the torture. If he wanted to continue the infliction the next day,he had to at least make sure we left the practice field still breathing.Today,everytime I smell fresh cut grass I feel my legs getting heavy.


Rocky Marciano had this boxing show after he left the sport.He'd have on various fighters and entertainers as guests. He'd show a tape of a fight and give commentary as the film rolled. It was a very good show. Rocky Marciano got a lot of respect. He followed a tough act coming after Joe Louis,but the public saw that he was real tough guy who had to be in top condition every time he stepped inside the ring.He never disrespected an opponent. There was nothing pretentious about Rocky. He was not that big for a heavyweight even back then.
He was around 5 foot 9,186 pounds.had a short reach,was pondorous afoot,and was prone to cuts. A lot of the good boxers out there(and there were some pretty good ones)thought they could easily out manruver Rocky. In the end,they all gave Marciano his just due, He was tough,in tremendous condition,and was willing to take two or three so he could dish out his big right that he called his "Suzy Q."Well that ol' gal jilted many an opponent that thought all they had to do is dance around the Brockton dago. "Suzy Q" was one tough broad. She was no lady.I get a kick out of watching Archie Moore on the seat of his pants clinging onto the top rope with a look like"What in the hell do I have to do to get this guy to slow down?" If "Suzy Q" would have been a real life dame,she would have been pulling trains every night of the week.


Marciano was one of the few great fighters to quit when he was on top. I've read the stories. My old man would tell me that Marciano had enough of Al Weill stealing money from behind Rocky's back.How Weill would run Rocky's dad from the gym.It all sounded valid.Rocky had made enough dough to take care of his family. But one time I was watching one of Marciano's TV shows and one of the guests(for the life of me I can't remember who it was,but that's not important)asked the Rock what made him hang 'em up.Maybe it was a kneejerk response,an impulse,but I'll never forget his answer.
"One day I walked in the gym and the smell disgusted me,the sweat,the mold,the canvas.I didn't want to do it anymore so I retired."

Just like that ,it was over. The smell of the gym got to the champ.There was some talk that Rocky might take his pants off one more time after the first Patterson/Ingemar fight. But nothing came of it. Gyms smelled the same then as they did when Rocky fought.


The Brockton Blockbuster

[dagosd2000]

Three Hots And A Cot

One of my early teaching assignments was at Juvenile Hall. The compound is spread out with single floor dorms and recreation areas. Next to the boys side of the institution is were they house the females juveniles.They are treated with a little more care. Each girl has her own room and all the rooms are carpeted. I only worked the girls side one time. I felt bad for those girls.They adorned their living quarters with dolls,stuffed animals, and pictures of their families. Some of the girls were mothers and had pictures of their kids on the walls. However with the exception of working that one time in the girls' unit,my assignments were on the boys' side. The boys ranged in age from 10 years old up to 17 years of age.


It was a time that we began to see more juvenile offenders incarcerated for more serious kinds of crimes.Playing hooky from school or lifting a candy bar from the convenience store wouldn't get a kid locked up like in the old days. The 1980's signaled the advent of gangs,drugs,and violent crimes.The boys facility was divided up into age brackets and the seriousness of the crime.I worked in all the units.There was unit called the Improve Unit where they had kids who were sociopathic, though they never said that out loud. But these kids had to live in individual quarters because if they shared a room with another kid one of them would get shanked sooner or later. The other teachers didn't want to work in the Improve Unit because the kids were too volatile ,and besides ,they didn't want to learn anything. I believe most of them had some sort of brain damage.I never put any unnecessary demands on the kids in the Improve Unit.The older hard core kids were kept on the other side of the compound away from the younger offenders. The wannabies thought the OG's were some kind of heroes. The young punks always wanted to get next to the older gangsters and prove that they could hang with them.

The best way to get through working there was not to get too personally involved with those kids. I could see that they were becoming institutionalized and that some of them considered Juvenile Hall a second home. Everyone that worked there:teachers,clerical,probation officers,cooks,and maintenance crews separated themselves emotionally from the kids. To the unexperienced that may seem a bit cold,but remember,those kids are streetwise way beyond their years.When you go to jail,even at a young age,you have to belong to a gang. That's usually determined by your race. The art of the con was imbedded into their mantras. Once in awhile an ACLU lawyer would pay a visit to sit down and listen to a kid air his gripes.After getting told a bunch of lies,the bleeding heart would come up to the lead PO holding his briefcase and say that the kid said he was being treated unfairly,the food stunk,and his room was full of cockroaches.Then after the Mr. Dogooder would be done with his spiel,the probation officer would inform him with something like,"You just sat down with a kid who cracked an old lady over the head with a hammer and then stole her purse."The PO couldn't make that up or the courts would put the PO behind bars for perjury.

While I getting my eyes opened at The Hall,I became friends with Ronnie Wilson's father in law. Wilson was a transplant from Canada and was a good draw when he fought in San Diego.Ronnie,who was a light heavyweight,was at a crossroads in his career at the time I became friends with his wife's father.He was one of the maintenance men.Sometimes I'd eat my lunch with him in the Hall's parking lot. He was a feisty guy ,sandy hair,a bantam build,fair skinned.He 'd talk about Ronnie a lot. Sometimes he'd help work in his corner .He wasn't that pleased the way Sid Flaherty was managing Ronnie's career.I'd met Ronnie at the Coliseum.I'd see him train there often. He was a pretty slick boxer who could have used more steam on his punch,but Ronnie's big problem was that he cut easily. One afternoon eating lunch with Wilson's father in law at a table in the parking lot,he started to get on his high horse.
"You know that Flaherty has him fighting too much. He beats a guy then a month later he' fighting him again. Then Ronnie gets a bad cut and Flaherty has him fighting in a month when the cut ain't healed right."
"I know what you mean,"I said.
"When Roger Rouse broke his jaw Flaherty should have rested him,but he pushes him out there again."
"What are you gonna' do? You can't tell him anything."
We both kind of shook our heads.
"Tell me Roger.What unit do you like to work in the most here?"
"That's easy. The illegal alien unit."
"Is that so?"he said with raised eyebrows.
"Well for one thing I speak some Spanish,but here's the facts. The kids who get in trouble from across the border have it pretty good in here.They go to school,have rec time,three square meals a day,hot showers,their very own bed.If they're sick there're doctors and nurses to look after them.They never give you a hard time. You don't have to tell them anything. They clean their rooms and always seem to be happy.They don't get in fights.They all get along.And if they have a gripe,there's the ACLU lawyer.They never had that where they came from."
"Too bad the American kids don't act that way."
"The problem with them is they think they should be enabled.One of the things they get taught by the others is that they should always have an excuse ready every time they get in a beef."
"Maybe I should learn some Spanish,"he said laughing.
"Well it keeps me away from a lot of problems."



The San Diego Coliseum in its glory years





















"

[dagosd2000]

Lament For Nigeria

I worked with a teacher who was born and raised in Nigeria. His last name Ipokowsomo,but no one wanted to try to get through those letters so everyone called him Mr. I.He was a real gentleman,probably in his mid 40's, and spoke with an English accent.He was strong in frame, shaved his head and wore large black framed glasses.You could tell he didn't have a trace of any white blood.His nose was wide and thick as was his mouth.There was a space between his two front teeth.. His dark black chiseled cheekbones underlined his eyes that looked from side to side when you talked to him and only refocused on you when he wanted to make a point.He was thick through the chest and his arms were stocky. His wife was also from Nigeria and they had a son and a daughter.Teaching school down by the border was a tough gig for Mr. I.Mostly all of the kids were Mexican and what few black kids that were left never took to him. Mr. I was one of those African blacks and with the exception of skin tone(the African Americans usually had a lighter color because of mixed mating) there was negligible bonding.The feeling from Mr. I towards the American black kids was kind of mutual. He was dissapointed by their lack of manners and interest in getting an education. But you need to understand that Mr. I's pedigree was from the elite stratum of Nigerian society. I don't know which group gave him the roughest time-the Mexica kids or the African/American teens. it was brutal. In that school district there wasn't much support.If a teacher couldn't discipline his class,the kids' parents looked at him as being weak, and eventually the administration sided against the teacher because he was making their job harder.

But I liked Mr. I.He had a kind of wry sense of humor and he stuck with it day after day.He came from a country that wasn't exactly the Garden of Eden. I could have seen him throw in the towel like a lot of teachers had because they felt they were out alone on a limb.He was silently tough. He never lost it with anyone and didn't whine.I was probaly his closest friend on site. The other teachers never wanted to get too close to him because he was so foreign.If anyone was out on a limb it was Mr.I.He thought I was funny. I'd kid him about the American black kids.
"Hey 'I'."I'd say to him,"These black kids here think they're the real black people,but you Africans don't see it that way. The blacks here are like Chicanos.To be a real black you have to be from Africa. Right?"
Mr. I would laugh his ass off every time I'd talk like that to him. He made no comment.just laugh and shake his head.

One time I asked Mr. I about Dick Tiger.
"He was a hero in our country,"he'd humbly say." At one time the government banished him because he didn't take their side,but the people knew he was a patriot."
Mr. I knew that Dick Tiger was a champion. I don't think he knew that Dick Tiger was a two time champion. I don't think Mr. I was born when Dick Tiger outmauled the mauler Gene Fullmer to win the middleweight championship. He then went up in weight to beat Jose Torres for the light heavy crown.He beat some pretty tough guys like Ruben Carter,Florentino Fernandez,and Joey Giardello because in those fights he was a little tougher. Looking at old films of Sam Langford,Dick Tiger was a close copy. The only guy to put him on his back was the great(and much taller)Bob Foster to take Tiger's light heavyweight crown. Mr. I peobably didn't know that Dick Tiger was mismanaged,not a big draw in the States,and wound up working as a security guard at a museum.A big part of Dick Tiger's purses went to Nigeria to help the cause of the rebel government.Mr. I didn't know any of that.


Mr. I just knew that Dick Tiger was a fighter for freedom in Nigeria. That was more important to remember.


Dick Tiger

[dagosd2000]

Theater Of The Absurd

There was a lot of talk about how they were going to tear down the old Tijuana bullring because it was unsafe I'd been to the fights there and one bullfight.I always liked the fights-the bullfights,I could do without. I mean I get all the metaphors and what Hemingway had to say about death in the afternoon.I just wasn't into it. I always wanted the bull to win.It was never a fair fight. By the time the matador entered the arena,the bull had about had it. But I really did enjoy the boxing matches. I saw great American fighters climb through the ropes at the bullring like Sugar Ray Robinson and Davey Moore. Jose Napoles and Ruben Olivares I also had the good luck to see put on a show. One evening Archie Moore was sitting at ringside. Olivares was headlining the main event. Arch was introduced before the start of the main. 20,000,everyone in attendance rose to their feet and gave him the standing ovation while he's blowing kisses to everyone up in the rafters.The shouts lasted for 15 minutes.Olivares got a good hand,but no one stood up to acknowledge his presence.


Every time I took in the fights at the bullring,there was the grotesquely funny ritual in the ringside seats of flinging a monster pair of a woman's underpants, soaked with goats blood in the crotch, taking aim at the nearest guy's face.For an encore there was further flinging of the dead rattlesnake with the similar intent of belting someone in the puss.And what would be a fight night at the bullring without the standard firecrackers set off in the bleachers,bottles and chairs hurled into the ring after an unpopular verdict?An occasional stabbing.Some gunshots.A few bloody casualities..All this raukus performed under the eyes of Tijuana's finest who were no way going to intervene(if they did there'd be an united target without any sympathies).Maybe after the dust settled the cops would sort out the debris.Oh,it was a jolly time.


But whoever thought that ancient structure was an accident waiting to happen would have been a seer of bad fortune. The entire seating structure was supported by metal bars. There was no concrete wall.No stucco to hold things together.Just these metal crisscrossing bars underneath the metal seats. I want to also mention the parking lot though it had nothing to do with structural integrity. There was this dirt lot in front of the bullring.No delineated parking spaces. No attendant. Everyone just parked their cars haphazardly any old which way and if you were dumb enough to squeeze your vehicle into that jig saw puxxle,you might get your car extracted out on the road by next Tuesday.


Yes,it was wise to tear the old bullring down before there was a disaster. I could have seen it happen.20,000 crazy fans stomping their feet,the big rattletrap shaking convulsively,and then boom-everything come crashing down like a Tower of Babel. Boy ,I had a good time there. I miss the place. I might tell you that I always ducked the bloody underpants and the rattlesnakes. One time though I did get conked on the head by a chair. It was something then to brag about.

[dagosd2000]

Will be taking a road trip beginning tomorrow through the southwest.Be off the thread for five or six days. Go to a big league ballgame in Phoenix,drop down to Highway 10 to Tucson,drive straight through to El Paso. Watch the AAA Padre team,the Chihuahuas ,play Saturday night.I'll be sure to drink a few date shakes,visit a ghost town or two.The highways are flat and straight and only a few other lonely vehicles barreling along.Will have my CD's to keep me company. Mostly classical music. Mellow stuff like Delius,Vaughan Williams,Debussy. Dreamy sounds in a surrealistic panorama of tall saguaro cactus haphazardly spread throughout a landscape of tiny desert flowers and rugged cut mountains.Maybe a roadrunner will skirt past.A mangy coyote with his jerky gait seeking a morsel.A desert that is silent and unforgiving. A trickle of a cold stream from the mountains will provide a drink for the parched throats.All the hot dogs and beer and double plays will shatter that image.



Brigg Fair-Frederick Delius

[dagosd2000]

A Far Away Sky


I don't know too much about Tucson,Arizona.When I traverse across the southwest area of the U.S. like I did a few days ago,I use Tucson as a stopover for a night's rest before continuing on my way. The cities,the towns,and highways seem like aberrations in a region that has been home since the beginning of time for jack rabbits,rattlesnakes,and big horn sheep. Sagebrush and cactus have acclimated to 100 degree temperatures that blaze on day after day during the summers. Yaqui and Hopi Indians lived in adobe pueblos that were apropos with the terrain.Tucson,Arizona has never piqued my curiosity.I like the naturalness of the geography.Condos and athletic stadiums are a dime a dozen. Granted,if I really wanted to be authentic to with my travels,I should partake my journeys in a covered wagon or by horse,but I'm too pretentious for that kind of torture.


Tucson has a nice Motel 6 by the freeway.That's where I snore away the night before getting in my car in the morning,turning on the air conditioning full blast,pop in a Cd of dreamy music,and put my new Hyundai on cruise control. But I have to tell you ,I've got this little quirk every time Tucson comes to mind.Tucson,Arizona is where Willie Pep fought his next to his last fight.After a six year layoff from boxing,Pep went the comeback route. He was fighting mostly a mediocre bunch that was somewhat a humbling experience for the Wil O' The Wisp.But he wasn't much better than his obscure opposition. in Tucson he decisioned a local fighter by the name of Ray Coleman..I looked up Coleman's record. He wasn't Sandy Saddler. Pep's next fight was against a fella' who had 12 fights losing 4 of them. Pep couldn't put a 5th loss on this guy. That was Willie's swan song

But lying in bed in that Motel 6 by the freeway in Tucson,Arizona, I had the thought about Willie Pep taking on a Ray Coleman in the middle of the desert. Pep,the epitome of the art of boxing,a fighter who had been in action with hordes of former champions and the class featherweight division,under the ring lights in venues like Madison Square Garden:now the old legend sweating bullits against a journeyman fighter before a hostile crowd in this guy's burg.

It was very hot and close when I stopped the other night in Tucson. I put on my swim trunks and went to the pool. I waded in and dipped my head under the water. I thought of willie Pep. I was alone in the pool. I shadow boxed while I waded around.i visualized myself as Willie Pep.I was unbeatable,then the dream wore off. I looked up.The sun was setting and pinked a far away sky. I dried off and went back to my room. I knew I had to get to bed soon if was to get up early and drive back to San Diego.

Willie Pep

[dagosd2000]

Taking A Little Off The Top

Just off the top of my head:When me and the wife returned from our beautiful blue Danube Viking Cruise,one of the first things I wanted to do is get a hold of some of that Czech beer that satisfied my thirst in Prague.Staropramen lager was what wetted my whistle and it rivaled any of the German beers I tasted when I was visiting Germany a few years ago. I haven't tasted all the German and Czech beers by any stretch,but the German beer I enjoyed the most was Augustiner Helles,a lager.But they told me that the Czechs are no slouches when it comes to brewing so I was anxious to try what they had to offer. I asked the waitress at a café in Prague to bring me the best tasting beer in the city and she served me a stein of this Staropramen,a lager.Got to admit it was on a par with the Augustina.Won't say which one is better.It's like asking who would you rather roll in the hay with,Miss Universe or Miss World? Anyway,there's a deli/restaurant combo up north a ways called Tip Top meats in Carlsbad. The owner is a transplanted German by the name of John Haedrich.Everyone calls him "Big John."He's a tick away from 90 years of age and he's still a formidable figure. He's as tall as Marshall Dillon and has hands like catcher's mitts. "Big John" used to do some fightin' inside the ring.He qualified for Germany's 1952 Olympic boxing team and tells me that he and Max Schmeling sparred many a round together,the ex champ teaching him the finer points. But the greatest satisfaction of knowing John Haedrich is sit down with him at his table at the front of the restaurant. He enjoys holding court and is particularly interested if his customers are satisfied with everything."Everything" doesn't stop with the variety of German food,meats,breads,and beer. He wants his customers to feel at home. He wants them back. Sure,they bring in the bucks,but "Big John" also relishes a good conversation with people he thinks of as friends more importantly than just a buying public.He's as alert as I've seen him and gracious beyond words. I think that's what keeps him going.That and a personal pride in his business.


Why is it if you want to taste good barbeque you have to go to the black neighborhood to find it? Or if you're into eating real Mexican food you'll come across it in the barrio for sure. Let's face it,you can't trick the homies into thinking they're eating phony food. When I made acquaintances with James Kinchen at The Helping Hands of God Church in Encanto ,I knew someone in the flock could steer me in the right direction of where the locals go for good barbeque, Sure enough I got the name of a barbeque joint called Kim's.It's located on upper Market Street right across the street from the Black Sabbath Motorcycle Club. The area is not exactly Surf City USA.But man let me tell you about Kim's.The locals consider Kim's "the stick". It's a hole in the wall located in the back of a parking lot. No seating inside,just a few makeshift tables and chairs outside next to the Alcoholics Anonymous."Pops" operates Kim's..He a little old geezer with bronze skin and doesn't care to put in his dentures. He says he was born and raised in Oklahoma and has this demeanor like he knows everything about rustling up some barbeque. Sides of fried okra',red beans,potato salad,mac and cheese,and cole slaw-all his recipes that he'll put up against any competition in town.He slow cooks his meats outside in this big iron barbeque oven.The aromas of chops and beef wafting through the neighborhood that would set off the old biddies in the upper crust parts of town that would make them tattle to the health department to have the place shut down. But that ain't happening to Kim's. See, Kim's is in the hood and if someone had the nerve to complain to the local authorities-well I don't think the Black Sabbath Motorcycle Club would take to kindly to that.


Might as well stay on the topic of food. There's an old wives tale about how Archie Moore would chew a steak until he consumed all the bloody juices and then spit out the meat so he could maintain a diet regimen of losing weight so he'd be right on the scales. No,Archie ate the whole T bone(except for the bone).But Archie liked sometimes to make people believe what they wanted to hear . No harm in that.

A lot of Mexican fighters are more careful about eating too much of their mother's cooking. It used to be they said to hit a Mexican fighter in the "panza". All that Mexican food fried in manteca made for a sensitive stomach that didn't like being socked at.I think that's why so many Mexican fighters developed that left hook to the liver. They knew what was on the Mexican menu.


"Big John" Haedrich holding court

[dagosd2000]

To Each His Own

"Old fighters get lazy as they continue on,"said Archie Moore or something similar to those words. I guess that holds true for any athlete in any sport.To each his own. As the body breaks down,he thinks he can rely upon a reserve of knowledge he's acquired through years of participating. Instead of the old fighter awakening at 5 in the morning and running for 10 miles,he walks over to the exercise bike in the corner of the gym,sits on the seat, and peddles his feet for half an hour. When he'd go through 3 or 4 tough sparring partners in an afternoon,now he'll settle for just one to get enough work in to keep his timing from slipping. He'll pitter pat away at the speed bag.That's kind of fun and doesn't extend his wind. Over the years he's developed even fancier techniques to keep that bladder pulsating.But he's not that enthusiastic about punching the heavier one. Time spent with the heavy bag is shorter than before and his socks don't produce the same resonance. He'll shadow boxe to get a sweat going,but now it takes longer to get heated up. The old fighter is at the gym everyday as usual,but it becomes more and more of a grudge.When he feels he's had enough work,he goes back to the locker room. His trainer knows who he's dealing with.To try to push too hard,to light a fire under his ass...well,the old fighter doesn't need the rah rahs anymore.It's all understood by now.His body hurts. The muscles take more time to rid the soreness. There's tics and twinges up and down his frame.The day will come when he steps inside that ring and knows he's left everything behind and he can't bring it through the ring ropes anymore.For some reason he might want to do it again. He needs the money.That's usually the major reason. But's there's the tragedy. He knows he'll never be on top again or near the pinnacle. He's doing it now because he needs the money .He's taking more and more shots . He sees the openings but can't get his punches in there.. His legs are getting heavy. His friends tell him his speech has slurred .But he knows he can still make a quick couple of grand.Sometimes he's called on short notice.But a couple of grand is worth it now.He can still go ten if he's pushed.He might even win one,usually against some fella from some backwater town who's fought fewer rounds than the old fighter's age.

I remember watching Willie Mays play his final days on the diamond with the New York Mets.At the end he couldn't get his bat around on the fastball.Three whiffs and he'd be back in the dugout sitting on the bench. It was uncomfortable to watch. But seeing old Joe Louis ,his leg dangling on the bottom strand of the ring ropes in his last fight.The ringside scribes couldn't bear seeing that so they set his leg down on the mat....well that made Marciano cry.


Rocky Marciano





Don Byas-To Each His Own

[dagosd2000]

Eyewitness

"I'm telling ya' thay put poison in his food before that fight,"said Sponge as he held the deck of cards in his hands.
"But he went on with the fight anyway didn't he."I said.
After the cardroom closed up we moved the game to John's apartment out at the beach. Old man Takasugi who had his bar,the Orient,next door to cardroom drove out to John's place to stay in the game after he closed up.Everyone called him Tak.He was my neighbor when I was young.Tak was put in one of those internment camps during the war.That's where he met his wife.Tak's son Randy was with him at the table.
"Who needs cards?"asked Sponge.
Sponge had done his 20 years with the navy and was some kind of chief. No one knew what his class was,but he was always getting busted down in rank because he had this drinking problem and that would get him into fights when he was on shore.After getting out of the navy,Sponge found a second home at the old Coliseum. He liked going to the fights and hanging around the gym.He'd clean up he Coliaeum in the mornings.He even got a licence to work in the corner of the fights.He never got married. Sponge always said women were only good for one thing. My hand I had already tossed in the middle of the table.
"I'll stay with these,"said Tak.
After getting out of the interment camp and getting married,Tak bought a small tuna boat,one iof those pole fishing boats with the saltwater showers.But his boat caught fire and sunk. After that Tak opened up a couple of those sailor bars downtown that had all those Dragon Lady types hustling the sailors out of their last dollar.But between the ABC and the vice they shut his joints down. The girls were lax about checking ID's and beside that they were always running some swabby upstairs to some flea bag hotel to extract that last dollar.But that didn't deter Tak. He later opened up The Orient as a silent partner and it was back to business as usual. But instead of spending a lot of time next door in the cardroom,he had to keep a close eye on the girls. They would have robbed him blind if they had had the chance,and some of them did anyway
"Randy,are you in or out?"asked Sponge with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.
Sponge smoked four packs a day and that's what gave him that gargled voice and the nicotine stains on his rotted teeth.But personal hygiene was never a priority with Sponge.
"I'll take one card,"said Randy.
Tak's son was like his old man.Randy liked to gamble at cards or just about anything when it came to sports. He even fished on a tuna boat.He'd gotten his engineer's license and pulled in pretty good money.But he lossed a lot of it away betting.,but one thing he was pretty good at was shooting pool,and there was always a wager involved. Randy had this cherub face and real squinty eyes. He still lived at home. His brothers had oll moved out.Randy was the youngest and was closest to his mother.But Randy was no sissy.He looked after his mother.His father was always up to something,but Mrs. Takasugi was a good Japanese wife and never said nothing. She also never stepped inside the Orient.
"What are you going to do John?"asked Sponge."Don't hold things up."
John was a nice guy ,kind of quiet, but that was because he stuttered when he talked,thus the nickname"Stuttering John."But he took no offense. John was tall and pale looking with off blond hair. He liked to play cards but didn't win too often.That was because he played just about every hand. He stayed in when he should have been folding. A lot of guys are like that.They stay in because they don't want to feel left out.
"I'll take four cards,"said John.
After going around the table a few times,Tak wound up with the pot. He'd drawn a king high straight on the deal.
After that round there was a discussion on the fight Sponge had brought up.
"I remember when Hafey got back from Mexico City. He told me all about it,"said Sponge."The Mexicans had given him this kid to run errands for him and Emery..Well they sent him out to get something to eat and he coms back with some bad tacos. Hafey was throwing up all night.You remember that Roger?"
"I remember hearing something but I didn't get the details."
"I'm telling ya' Art went out the next night and knocked out that beaner in one round.It got all around town."
Just then there was knock on the door.John got up and opened the door. It was Burke Emery of all people.
"Hey Burke what are you doing here?"I asked.
"They said the game was going to continue at Stuttering John's. Got room for one more?"
"Sh..sh..sure,"stuttered John."Have a seat."
"Burke sat next to me.
"Old Sponge was just telling us about the time you took Art to Mexico City and that kid they gave you snuck something in Art's food the night before,but Art won anyway,"i said cheerily.
Burke looked at Sponge with a glare.
"That fight never came off. The Mexican fighter that night overdosed so they called they cancelled the fight."
With that statement everybody looked at each other. Sponge began to light up another smoke,
"Leave it to an eyewitness to ruin a good story,"he said.


The old Coliseum today. Just waiting for bulldozers and the wrecking ball.

[dagosd2000]

The Palisades

A roller skating rink is sometimes a pretty good place to put on a boxing match.We had one here in San Diego called the Palisade Gardens. It was located in North Park on University Avenue near 30th Street. Bobby DiPhilippis used to promote a few shows there from time to time. I took my son to watch his first fight there. James Kinchen was on the card.He had an easy time with a fella' named Fred Reed.Kinchen was undefeated at that time. Between the Silver Slipper Casino in Vegas and the small venues in San Diego,Bobby D had matched Kinchen with a mixed bag of fighters to earn him an undefeated record.James got a shot at Alex Ramos for the USBA Middleweight Title and came away a winner with a KO.That put him in line for a title elimination fight with James Shuler-the winner to fight Marvin Hagler. Well they made the match in Shuler's backyard in Atlantic City and after 12 fast rounds the judges kept the hometown fans happy by blessing Shuler with a split decision win.It wouldn't be the first time Kinchen would be fighting in a big fight with the James brothers as the judges. Tommy Hearns and Iran Barkley walked away with dubious decisions in their win columns after tangling with the Heat.After the Hearns fight Kinchen's career began to wane. Win one,lose one,unitil he called it a career in 1992.


But I'll never forget those fights that I attended at the Palisade Gardens. There were no bleacher seating so they put out folding chairs on the floor.Bobby DiPhilippis would bring his waitresses to the fights to be the ring card girls. They'd be sitting in the front row in one of the corners. The girls regular jobs were serving the customers at DiPhilippis's Butcher Shop Restaurant in Mission Valley. When they were taking orders they dressed up resembling Playboy bunnies. One night I was with my son sitting behind the row of Bobby's girls.Between rounds they'd climb into the ring making sure they spread their legs,straddling on the ropes, long enough to even get the most prudish to break down and drool. One night between bouts I went to the bathroom and when I came back my 14 year old son told me that one of the ring card girls handed him a slip of paper and said to him if he was "interested" to call this number. I told my son that I'd take that slip of paper and I'd take care of things. I think at Bobby D's Butcher Shop they had something else for desert than Baked Alaska, except it wasn't on the menu.


The Palisade Gardens was located across the street from the Peking Café. It's still there. it's the oldest restaurant in San Diego.The same family has been running the place since 1931. It's all family that works there. I was speaking one time with one of the great granddaughters,a slight little thing with big almond eyes and long black hair down her back.She never used a notepad to take an order. In fact I've never been in a Chinese restaurant where the waitresses rely on using a notepad. She said her great grandfather,who opened the doors, still came in everyday,but he was upset because the DMV wouldn't grant him driver's license anymore. The old guy was 101 years old. I'd stop in there to chow down on their chow mein before going to the fights across the street. The Peking was strictly Cantonese,recipes from the Chinese laborers that came to the west coast of the United States and Mexico to help build the railroads. The Peking is only one of the very few Chinese joints that still serves Cantonese food. Everything now is all this hot stuff that doesn't agree with me. However,in Tijuana and Mexicali most of the Chinese restaurants stay with the Cantonese dishes. I used to talk with the great granddaughter when i'd eat at the Peking. She always served me. She knew that after eating I'd go across the street to the Palisade to watch the fights. One night she asked me what the fights were like.
"Oh,I don't think it would be anything you'd like.," I said." Just two guys in the ring punching each other in the face."
"On no.I wouldn't want to see that,"she said softly looking away from me.
"But you know what?They have waitresses there."
"What do they do at a boxing match?"she asked a little puzzled.
"Well,they take orders,but they use a slip of paper."



Tommy Hearns