Classic American West Coast Boxing

[oogiebe]

That is one terrific piece of writing. Spot on!

[dagosd2000]

That is one terrific piece of writing. Spot on!

Thanks

[dagosd2000]

Better Than Nothing

It was when Sugar Ray Leonard was preparing for his second comeback in February of 1991 after being out of the ring for a year and a half. He was going to try to recapture the WBC super welterweight title from San Diego's Terry Norris. Leonard had that mystique ,ala Muhammad Ali, of having reappeared to shock the world by upsetting Marvin Hagler to win the WBC middleweight championship 1987.After beating Hagler he won his next one against Donny Lalonde to add the WBC light heavyweight belt to put on his mantle. Then it was Tommy Hearns again in a fight that didn't live up to all the hype,but padded both boys' bank accounts. You could see that Tommy and Ray weren't the fighters they used to be,but the boxing public has always been suckers for the P.T. Barnum marketing approach. So why not try it again with a third time in the ring with Roberto Duran? Roberto was showing the wear and tear by that time,as was Father Time was nearing Ray's door,but again the boxing public was an easy mark for all the phony publicity. After the Bobby/Ray slow dance , Sugar Ray hung up the gloves for the second time.But what is it with fighters?The former greats think they still are and believe what their friends are reinforcing in their fantasies- that they still have what it takes.Ray Leonard still was a believer in himself.

Terry Norris was a bit of a question mark going into the Leonard fight,but those doubts were perceived from too far outside. Those of us in San Diego ,who were keeping a close eye on Norris, knew the time was ripe for him to reach that top of rung of the ladder and stand there for a while. We didn't think Terry would have much of a problem beating Leonard. Besides,Leonard's last two fights with Hearns and Duran were more of the exhibition ilk than genuine fights.Terry ,on the other hand,had won 14 out of his last 15.His only loss was when he got thumped by Julian Jackson.That's where the "bit of a question mark" got its beginnings.

I was working as a teacher at Juvenile Hall when I met Gilbert Baptist who was a probation officer and still an active fighter,Gilbert was also Terry Norris' main sparring partner for his upcoming bout with Leonard.Baptist and Norris were no strangers to each other.I had seen them fight against each other earlier in their careers at the El Cortez Hotel in downtown San Diego in a non stop slugfest that had everybody on their feet. Me and Gilbert became friends fast at Juvenile Hall and that's when I'd accompany him to watch him train with Terry Norris for the Leonard fight. When Norris wasn't at his manager's,Joe Sayatovitch's, training facility in the foothills of San Diego County in Campo,California that was right across the border,I'd go with Gilbert to watch the sparring upstairs at Spud Murphy's Gym on Broadway that was in the city.

Terry was a very good boxer with speedy hands and reflexes just as fast. We all figured that Ray Leonard wasn't the same guy who fought Tommy Hearns the first time or even Roberto Duran in their first two. Even when he got away with that one against Hagler,we knew he wasn't THAT guy either. The biggest thing Leonard would bring with him into the ring would be his name.

Well, as we all figured,it wasn't close.I watched the fight at the Aguas Caliente Sports Book in Tijuana because I wanted to lay a bet on Norris. When I went to the window I almost wanted to pick Terry via KO.but then I caught myself.I figured Leonard wouldn't pose much of a problem,but why tempt the fates?So I laid a C note on Terry to win going the distance.When I saw Leonard go down in the 2nd and 7th rounds I knew I had it in the bag.I was thinking that I should have bet the KO.It would have been a lot more money if it had gone that way.But Norris let him off the hook.After the fight was over I was sure glad I didn't get overconfident at the seller window. I would have been a loser if I had picked the KO.So I bet on the sure thing-Norris winning any way possible. it was less dough,but it was sure a lot better than nothing.After the fight I went to the Coahulia.I blew my winnings buying everyone a drink with some left over to get throwed and blowed. Like I said,It was better than nothing.

Terry Norris

[dagosd2000]

Lost That Old Feeling

A few years ago when I took my grandson Adam to the fights at the Municipal Auditorium in Tijuana,i wanted him to experience what it was like to sit with all those aficianados screaming and yelling their heads off,feeling the electricity in the air,and all the rest of the clichés that are synonymous with going to the fights in Mexico.

My grandson was practicing boxing with Tiger Smalls who was in charge of instruction in a gym that was nearby his house in Clairemont,a suburb of San Diego.Tiger was a former fighter and he had a small stable of fighters including his son Prince,a promising featherweight. Adam and I had gone to a few of Princes's fights in San Diego,but I wanted my grandson to feel what it was like to see the fights in a boxing cauldron. I also had my motives for going-I wanted to recapture the adventures that I remember when I was a "fight nut" going to the fights in the various arenas in the Southland,The Olympic Auditorium and The Forum in Los Angeles,the San Diego Coliseum,and the Municipal Auditorium and the bullring in Tijuana. Venues that were apropos for the wars I'd seen with the legendary names like Napoles,Olivares,Saldivar,Chavez the dad,Indian Red and kid brother Little Red,Mando Ramos,Sugar Ramos,Bobby Chacon,Ken Norton,and Hegemon Lewis to name a mouthwatering few.

I was out of the loop for a very long time with the sport. Boxing in the Southland was slowly losing its fans.The small arenas were giving way to wrestling matches and rock concerts. I had gotten married.Boxing for me was doing a General MacArthur-it was fading away. I didn't give it much thought.

Then a fellow teacher where I was working told me about BoxRec.This was 2007. I got hooked right away.I saw some pictures that were posted of some of the ex pugs that still resided in the City Of Angels. I began going up to the boxing conventions.It was a shot in the arm.The chickens were coming home to roost.Then my grandson started to take up boxing under the guidance of Tiger Smalls. We began going to see his son Prince fight.His career didn't exactly get off to a roaring start. His first fight was in Tijuana in one of those seedy bars in town.There were others in the banquet rooms of some of the local hotels.It wasn't so much that the quality of the cards were suspect(they were fights for the most part that wouldn't have drawn flies in the 60's and 70's).it was the atmosphere that was a bit tepid. That's why I wanted to show Adam what it was like when I was still feelin my oats going to the fights when in the Southland it was as good as it gets.

I was visiting Chetos Gym in Plaza Santa Cecilia in Tijuana when I was told that a hot local bantamweight,Luis Nery,was going to head up the card at the auditorium. This was my signal. I'd show Adam what the Real McCoy was about of how a the fights should be consumed,and I could also do a deja vu and get back that old feeling.

But something happened. it had nothing to do with the surroundings that night. The auditorium was jammed.The fights were packed with explosives.Adam was enthralled. But I was left flat. Maybe it was my age. Maybe it was that I had been there and done that. A short time later I got a yen to go up to the Forum and watch Roman Gonzalez,who was being touted as the best P4P in the world,fight a championship go against the Mexican, Carlos Cuadras. The atmosphere that night at The Forum wasn't as I had remembered it when I'd seen Jose Napoles in there with Hedgemon Lewis. The fights on the Ganzalez/Cuadras card was kind of like stale beer,at least that's the drift that got in my nose.

But now I look back on it-the fights I've paid money for recently to sit inside the arenas-and it has nothing to do with anything outside myself, but that my perceptions have changed.All that past hysteria is now a cooling ember. I'd rather write about boxing back in my day than today get in the car,stand in line to buy a ticket,and hobble on my bum wheels to take a seat ringside.

I'll leave the passion for the young that still have the hormones to get passionate. I have my reasons to go on with what's left of my life-mainly my family(and my dogs)but I'm not an omnipresent grandpa.If I did that my grandchildren would avoid me.Instead they come over to visit and we go out and get something to eat(I wish this virus thing would go away) My wife and I have found our stride. We live one day at a time and know where the roses are if we want to pause and take a hearty breath.And that's not in a boxing arena with the smell of stale beer.


Ken Norton

[dagosd2000]

Bygones

After Ken Norton was destroyed by Jose Luis Garcia at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angels ,Norton was facing a crossroads.As beautiful a specimen who ever entered the ring, he was struggling as a professional fighter.A former Marine amateur boxing champion,he started off getting paid for fighting in San Diego. He was under the tutelage of two of boxing's best -Yank Durham and Eddie Futch. They were also in charge of handling the career of future heavyweight champ Joe Frazier. Norton couldn't have his career in better hands.

I began following Norton's career from the beginning.There weren't many quality heravyweights who did their fighting out on the West Coast at the time. The list of Norton's opponents in the beginning were perpetual club fighters whose names were never at the top of the marquee of any boxing arenas. I've told you about my short and brutal run in with Norton when I went to the San Diego Coliseum one afternoon with a friend, who was a good amateur heavyweight, who was scheduled to spar with Norton.But my friend claimed an injury so I became an unexpectant substitute. After a few seconds of standing there face to face with Norton he brought up his left hand and shattered my nose.He also shattered any dreams I had about being a fighter.Now remember this was very early in Norton's career that afternoon when he made me spill my blood on the ring mat.This was somewhere around early 1968. I could tell ,when I was asked by Eddie Futch to give Norton some work, that he was upset. He wanted my friend to be sacrificed at the altar,but when I climbed through the ropes I could tell by the scowl on his face that I was going to be a biblical Isaac.

After Norton got through with me he not only injured my body but hurt my feelings. I wanted to see him lose all the rest of his fights.Seeing him in the ring early on, building up his record with a bunch of Joe Doakes' kind of fighters, I knew that sooner or later Norton would get his comeuppance.As soon as he got in there with just a "good" fighter he'd meet his Waterloo.

Prior to the Garcia match Ken Norton had a serious problem with his wind. It had to be psychological because he was always a very hard trainer.In all the bouts that I saw him fight locally against those run of the mill big boys(and a lot of those "big" boys I could have substituted the word "fat")Norton ,like clockwork,would hit the wall around the 5th or 6th round. It wasn't that his opponents were breaking him down any.He just had no more gas left in his tank. I would go crazy wanting the guy he was fighting to finish him off,but because of their lack of talent they'd let him off the hook.

When he signed to fight Garcia up at The Olympic I was smacking my lips. Garcia as tall,had the skills,and had the punch.He was that "good" heavyweight that Norton had never tasted before. And Jose Luis Garcia gave him a mouthful to choke on that night at The Olympic. Sure enough Norton went into his dizzy spell in the 5th round. Garcia dropped him a couple of times like a sack of flour.At the bell sounded ending the 8th round Garcia had already unleashed a right hand that knocked Norton unconscious.They could have counted him out with a calendar.His corner cried foul,but seeing their charge flat on his back like a limp noodle their protests fell on deaf ears.

I was happy. Now the world saw what Norton was all about-a big black Adonis who was just a pale imitation of a heavyweight contender.I thought that that was the end of him. He had gone to the crossroads and gotten run over by a semi.

But then Norton did something that was very unusual. He went to hypnotist(a local guy in town who had an act at a restaurant called the Chuck Wagon)who perhaps could reach down into Ken's psyche and purge the demons that had cursed him of this shortage of breath thing. When I heard that I laughed.

Norton was shortly back in the ring fighting again mostly ham and eggers,however the thing I noticed was that he had a reserve tank of gas in him.But again I said to myself "wait till he gets in their with another fighter of worth.Ken will fall again."That "fighter of worth" I thought was going to be Henry Clark his next opponent.They were scheduled to fight in Stateline,Nevada. Clark was a "good" fighter. To be more precise,he was a very good boxer,kind of like Muhammad Ali.He even looked in the face like Ali.Here was the second coming of Jose Luis Garcia I ,at least that's what I thought.The fight was a landmark for Norton. He had thrown cold water on all his doubters.including myself, and stopped Clark in 9 rounds.He was running on high octane. Then the next thing I know Norton signed to fight Muhammad Ali in San Diego.

I couldn't believe what I saw that night at The sports Arena. No one else could believe it either except Norton,Eddie Futch,and the hypnotist. Beating Ali was enough to put Norton in the same elite group with his stablemate Joe Frazier and the up and coming George Foreman.

But if Norton had overcome his fuel shortage he couldn't compensate for the fragility of his "beard."When he faced a big puncher he wilted.In his three fights with Cooney,Shavers,and Foreman, Norton lasted less than 4 rounds.I was happy again.

Later,when the dust cleared and Norton was through with fighting and I was a married man ,I read that Kenny Norton was having a rough go of it. He had fallen asleep at the wheel of his car and almost died hitting a telephone pole. He wound up with a skull fracture that lead to a couple of strokes and a heart attack. His son,Ken Jr. who would accompany his dad when he trained in San Diego,had had a falling out with his father.I sat down and took stock of myself.

When Ken Norton beat me up that time in a sparring session I was no baby,but I acted like one.Ken Norton might have been kind of a bully,aloof,a little arrogant. But I was no man to cast the first stone.If life can teach us anything it's that there is always room for change. Hopefully,that transformation is positive and for the good of others. A shift that focuses on the other guy. The self absorption and selfishness dissipating;the energy being passed along to benefit your neighbor. I know I wasn't the same person anymore that day when I left the ring with a bloody nose from the glove of Ken Norton. I also believed Ken Norton wasn't that same person who thought he was the cock of the walk. No.it would be a sin if we didn't want to try to right our wrongs.

You think that by a certain age that you've got it all figured out. All those ducks in order till the day you draw your last breath.There can be nothing more deceitful than to think you've got it all nailed down. As the cosmos swirls around, life changes ,and within life, the lives of everyone else change. For myself I know it's a daily flux like trying to paddle down the rapids in a canoe without drowning. I'm sure Kenny Norton had reached a higher plane at the end. As long as I'm breathing I know I have to work on things. But it's not talking the talk.So I'll get off the keyboard and try some walking the walk.Easier said than done.


The guy who broke my nose

[dagosd2000]

The Poor Man's Out

As time marches on and as the sport world becomes more sophisticated,boxing is still an endeavor for the guy on the bottom to climb up the ladder and make a name for himself,and if he's any good,make a few bucks. But being a professional fighter is never as easy as it looks on the TV. You see two boys going at each other for ten rounds,gloves held high,their eyes focused probing for an opening or on the alert to duck when necessary,and at the final bell still having something left in the tank.I remember as a kid watching the fights on TV in awe of how well conditioned fighters were;toned muscles,abs showing under taut skin,biceps big and powerful,and how they could set a pace three minutes a round knowing that they better have the stamina to go the distance if needed.

Fighters trained in gyms in low rent neighborhoods where they lived mostly.Their gear was basic:a scuffed up pair of boxing shoes,a cup,12 ounce gloves,a mouthpiece.gray sweats,and a towel. If they showed some promise they'd get a key to a locker. If they hadn't earned their stripes yet they hung their gear in a burlap bag on a nail on the wall.A lot of the beginners couldn't afford buying their own gear so the guy running the gym would have to provide.Burke Emery,who opened his gym in the North Park area of San Diego told me that after awhile just about all his gear was AWOL.
"Those poor Mexican fighters that came in.Hell,they didn't have any money to buy their own gear so they took what I had."
He didn't sound bitter. He understood how it was.He just had to keep a closer eye on things.

When my father took me with him to Bob Johnston's Sport Palace on lower Market Street that was next to his burlesque house The Hollywood Theater,to sling the bull with then light heavyweight champ Archie Moore's braintrust- Bob's,his bro Charlie ,and Doc Kearns- I was taken aback by what a dingy backroom that Bob Johnston called his office where everybody had congregated. You'd think with legendary names like those fellas' sitting around the room the premises would resemble something more state of the art,or at least a little more spruced up. But remember this is "boxing" I'm talking about,not an NFL franchise.

Boxing has to be a Spartan way of life for a fighter who wants to get to the top.As for managers and trainers there's not that much of a stretch from the nuts and bolts of what the fighters swim in and where it comes to spinning some yarns in the "backroom."

Bob Johnston's place was on lower Market Street in downtown. That whole area was getting threadbare. Winos,flea bag hotels,Orientlal bars,sailors on leave still in their uniforms,hookers,and the last burlesque house in America were the metaphors of lower Market Street.

So I'm sitting there listening to my old man,Doc Kearns,Bob and Charlie Johnston,and then Archie Moore popped in for a minute in this cockroach hotel for mice ,cigar smoke filling my lungs,and beer glasses making rings on old napkins. Everybody acted like they went back a long time ago,and they did. My father knew the brothers when they were in Chicago.Doc Kearns and The Manassa Mauler used to frequent my father's father's joint,the Bella Napoli when it was going great guns on South Halsted Street in Chicago. It was inside the Bella Napoli where Doc and Jack were approached by Capone to rig the fight with Tunney in Soldiers Field. Capone felt comfortable at the Napoli.He ate his spaghetti there almost every night.

Archie Moore I would get to know much later,but my father and him talked to each other like their were old schoolyard pals.

Here's an elite group of "ins" having the time of their lives in a building that would be condemned in less than ten years.But everyone was in character. They weren't pretentious wanting to look like 'jetsetters." They wore their jackets without ties and their teeth were tobacco stained.If you closed your eyes you could hear Smoky Joe ,the black guy who was the house piano player,play something from Tin Pan Alley. There were two enlarged pictures hanging behind the bar.One of Marciano making a fist to president Eisenhower and the other of the famous wrestler Jim Londos.

Everything is all gone now including the characters that were in that backroom telling tales like something out of a Ring Lardner book. The poor man's out. That's what boxing was and always will be.And those backrooms? They'll still be there until the bulldozer comes around.


Bob Johnston's Sport Palace


The picture that hung in back of the bar at The Sport Palace

[dagosd2000]

Diamond Joe Esposito feeding some of the orphans from Jane Addams Hull House at his Bella Napoli that was right across the street.

[dagosd2000]

Never The Hometown Hero

Ken Norton started his boxing career in San Diego,but he never really had a big following here.Fighting mostly at The Coliseum in front of crowds that numbered a couple of thousand, none off those bouts televised, he was still an unknown quantity. His first real test was against Joe Luis Garcia up at the Olympic Auditorium.Norton,who I had mentioned before,had a peculiar stamina problem where he would suddenly run out of gas in the middle of the fight regardless who he was fighting.Because he was such a physical specimen he would often do away with the cannon fodder that was put in the ring with him within a couple of rounds.However,I knew when he signed for the Garcia fight that Norton would be in trouble. After Norton tasting leather for 7 rounds,Garcia unloaded a tremendous right hand as the bell rang to end the 8th. The punch also ended the fight for Norton who laid stretched out on the canvas.

After the Garcia loss the fans in San Diego weren't traumatized. San Diego,though having weekly cards on Tuesdays at The Coliseum sandwiched between the weekly events in Los Angeles and Tijuana,didn't have the mass enthusiasm for boxing like the cities to the north and south.To tell the truth,there were times when Norton fought in front of a San Diego audience and most of the multitude was pulling for his opponent.Norton's fight with big Jack O'Hallorhan was a good example of what I am talking about. O'Hallorhan had blown into San Diego in early 1972. He was quite a sight-a tall hairy guy with a lantern jaw and one eyebrow that traversed from one eye to another,his speech was lunch pail and blue collar,but that was an act. He was really quite erudite but never revealed that side to the public.Boxing fans are comprised mostly of people without sheepskins framed on their den walls. O'Halloran,who would eventually turn to Hollywood to make few bucks,had enough acumen to parlay his big lug appearance to make himself accessible to the public.Norton ,on the other hand,kept his distance and lacked any levity in his persona. The night of their fight you didn't have to think it over about who the crowd was standing behind. Norton was announced first and got a good hand. When big Jack sidled through the ropes the noise buried the needle.

As big a man as O'Halloran was he didn't possess a lot of natural talent.Ray Kroc,the McDonalds guru who lived in San Diego ,said that perseverance always trumped talent.In Jack's case that wasn't true.O'Hallorhan ,for being as tall as he was(6 foot 6)had a relatively short reach.He was a arm puncher so he when he landed one it didn't pack much of a wallop. His footwork resembled a Frankenstein monster saunter.All you had to do is study his pan and you knew that defense wasn't in his mantra.O'Hallorhan's forte was his durability. In a bygone era they could have matched Jack with Chuck Wepner and made it a fight to the finish. That would have been something.

The fight started along at a pedestrian pace(Norton never was a firecracker out of the box).I could tell that Norton wasn't going to "dominate" this guy. If only Jack could hang around for 5 or 6 rounds. Well,he did and like clockwork Norton started to drop his hands and gasp for air. The crowd sensed what was happening and began moving to the edge of their seats.Just as it looked like that Norton was about to fold he threw a wild swing that caught O'Haloran flush knocking him down. It registered 8 on the Richter Scale. The knockdown was enough to earn Kenny the decision.

When Norton fought Ali in the San Diego Sports Arena it was Muhammad who got the loud cheers. Norton wasn't exactly booed,he was just kind of out of sight out of mind. As the fight progressed the crowd sensed that it would take a miracle, like in the guise of lucky punch, for Ali to save himself from defeat. But Ali wasn't that kind of finisher(even though he did do that against Bonavena).Ali ,after his comeback,still relied on his boxing prowess(though he wasn't floating like butterfly anymore).The shock that night was the way he struggled against Norton.(He would also struggle in the subsequent fights).Norton was going through him unfazed.He answered everything Ali threw at him. Eddie Futch said later that he told Norton that when Ali jabbed to jab right back at him.Ali then would have to reset himself and start all over again.

So with that victory Norton got the shot with Foreman, title on the line. Ali won a controversial decision against Norton in the rematch,a fight similar to the one in San Diego,but Norton was offered the opportunity to fight for Foreman's belt. Norton looked like he was in shellshock in Caracas,and it had nothing to do with drinking the water. Foreman crushed a bewildered Norton in 2.

When they inked the contract for that fight the San Diego fans put down the papers and took notice again of Norton. I remember watching the fight on closed circuit at the Sports Arena. San Diego is a fairweather sports town. After the Foreman mugging the San Diegans walked away from Ken Norton.He fought only one more time in San Diego stopping Larry Middleton in front of a sparse crowd at the Sports Arena.

I often wonder if Norton would have broke ground in New York or made his way fighting in the venues on the opposite side of the continent,he would have caught on more. Aside from his win over Ali I think his biggest success was when he mauled Jerry Quarry in Madison Square Garden. But getting back to Ali. Norton more than any other fighter presented the biggest problem for Muhammad Ali. Ali said that he hated fighting him. In all three encounters Ali was treading water. Norton was never perturbed by The Greatest. Norton always said that Ali never hurt him. The only thing that hurt Ken Norton was nothing physical.It was his feelings.He never basked in the limelight like Ali,Smokin' Joe,Big George,or even Larry Holmes. Looking back,he deserved a lot better.

Big George Foreman

[dagosd2000]

Ali's Jab

I don't think Muhammad Ali had ever seen Ken Norton fight before their showdown in San Diego. I'm sure that he never even caught a glimpse of Norton on film. The reason I say this is when he was in San Diego, winding down his training at the Town And Country Hotel in San Diego, he kept asking Angelo Dundee, inside the banquet room where the ring was setup, about Norton's jab.
"How's his jab?Can he beat me with it? Is it fast?"
Angelo assured him that Ken Norton's jab was something not to worry about.
"It's slow. He telegraphs it,"answered Dundee.
I don't think Ali was very worried anyway,but when Dundee told him that that he could beat him with his jab Ali relaxed to the point that he thought he had the fight in the bag.

Muhammad Ali had the best jab of any heavyweight in history. Instead of having a "Sunday punch" he had a" Sunday jab." Ali also possessed the best footwork of any heavyweight that ever wore the championship belt.We know that. Below the waist his feet had the style of Willie Pep. More precisely,when Cassius Clay was learning the ropes in Chris Dundee's 5th Street Gym in Miami,he was in awe of the two Cuban fighters who were also training there,Jose Legra and Luis Rodriguez.Ali body was conducive to what those fellas' could pull off in the ring:light on their feet,constantly moving ,shifting,darting in and out.Ali had the genetics to copy that style.What made Ali such a phenomenon was that he could fight that way carrying 210 pounds.

Ali's upper body resembled the slight middleweight's,not the upper body of a Hagler or a LaMotta,more similar to a Ray Robinson-average. Below the waist is what everybody had never seen before in a heavyweight;legs that moved him around the ring like Fred Astaire on the dance floor.But Clay didn't have the "spindle legs" like a Ray Robinson. Sugar Ray could shift his feet on a dime,but his pins were like a Steinway's. Clay had big powerful legs. That's where he carried his weight that put him up there with the big boys.Clay's legs were balletic. Male ballet dancers have powerful muscled legs that enable them to leap and spin and hang in the air.Clay could have put on leotards and bopped around at The Met.

Ok.Let's get one thing straight. When Ali was nee Clay is the period where we don't have an argument about when he showed best years as a fighter. His legs looked the same pre retirement and post except when Ali made his comeback he left his legs back in 1967. It was his brain that was a tic slow sending the signal to his legs to do the things housed to do.He had flattened out. He was doing a lot more walking in the ring instead of dancing. But those legs:supple strong calves supplemented by thick powerful thighs.And what an ass! His hindquarterswere on his back kind of at a tilt.This is what gave him the leverage and the endurance to sustain a pace for 15 rounds.Calves,thighs,and that posterior all tied into an aesthetic package.

But you can't win a fight without throwing punches.Granted,his legs allowed him to maneuver around with the panache of a Nureyev,but what was in his artillery was primarily the pop pop pop of his jab. It set up the cross and then he'd step back and lead again with the jab pop pop pop,move side to side,carrying his hands low,moving his head,all the while his feet prancing and dancing.

Ali was never a counter puncher. Counter punchers wind up getting in exchanges. Ali didn't want to get into exchanges with Liston or Williams so he moved around and worked his jab. He wanted to lead,make his opponent lose balance, and eventually so tired that you could knock him over with a feather.Downstairs,Ali's faith was with those legs. Upstairs he could answer his prayers with his jab. At the end he had problems with both. Instead of constant movement,he was rope a doping and holding behind the neck.That's how he fought Frazier,Foreman,and Norton.And his jab was like the old baseball pitcher that loses something off his fastball.He was a tired fighter most of the time.

Larry Holmes was beating Ali with the jab when Larry was sparring with him in Manila. When they came together for the money in 1980 Ali believed he could get there first with his jab.

Archie Moore always said that old fighters get lazy. Ali had in his mind he could beat Larry Holmes because he was still quicker on the draw. So with the thyroid pills he was swallowing to get his weight down like in the good ol' days and fooling himself with the idea he could jump the jab with the same speed and dispatch like when he was Cassius Clay was his undoing.

There have been more powerful jabs,heavier jabs,jabs that were predictable;but never a jab when combined with the tripping the light fantastic embodied the greatest heavyweight of all time. Nobody gave him argument about how he referred to himself.

Muhammad Ali

[chrisjs1985]

Excellent work as always Rog! You talked about Norton often getting tired in the middle of his bouts and mentioned his physique. It seems these musclebound guys do get winded quicker. I remember Holyfield, who was in as good a shape as anyone, completely spartan lifestyle could often tire out but find his second win. Often fighting in bursts. Wladimir Klitshcko was the same, Joshua is the same but perhaps the latter two it's even more pronounced. It's not a rule of thumb because I'm sure we can point to plenty of meat heads that never tired but at heavyweight it does appear more often than not to be the case. I suppose all the oxygen sucking up those muscles, plus shifting 210/200+ lbs around a ring while a giant is trying to take off your head will do it.

I was discussing those Ali-Frazier-Foreman-Norton fights the other day. I felt Norton won 2-1, with every fight of the series being clear cut (Norton, Ali, Norton in that order) whereas we know Joe was 1-2 vs. Ali and Foreman was handled. I tend to think the March 8th, 1971 Frazier beats any Ali but wondered if Ali wasn't as up to par due to the Norton bouts not being championship bouts and more specifically not being a Joe Frazier or a George Foreman? The third fight, Ali, of course had already gone through Manila. Or also that it could purely have been style. Norton had smarts and being around Futch so much knew how to fight Ali. Norton, I suppose could do really well with the boxers but struggle with the bangers. He would probably always give Holmes a hard time too but I suspect he would be taken out by Frazier sometime in the middle rounds.

[chrisjs1985]

During this pandemic, like most, I have been spending a LOT of time at home. I have managed to make a lot of headway on the book I am writing on Jofre which is a plus. I've also been going through a lot of old Los Angeles Times articles mainly piecing together articles for a future project. It's got me kind of curious, has anyone written a book on the great Manuel Ortiz? Is one planned? I want to know more and more about this great champion, who may arguably be the greatest boxer ever born in California. Unfortunately footage of him is very limited and I really don't see a great deal written on him.

Another thing I have been doing is watching a lot of older fights. A lot of bantamweights. Of course the division was run by Macias, Halimi and then Becerra but then with Jofre's dominance and Harada's run, the title stayed out of Mexico or California for a while and then came Olivares. Olivares is about as fun as it gets. His murderers row of opponents puts him right up there with the best but I actually think Zarate at his bantamweight best may have defeated him. I am not proposing that he is the greater fighter of the two as Ruben did great stuff at 126 but Zarate was a perfect boxer puncher and I fancy that his straighter punches, advantage in reach and height and greater consistency would be given an edge.

The run of brilliant fighters between (and alongside) Olivares and Zarate, the two bonafide all-time guys, are often overlooked but what a fantastic line-up. Herrera, Castillo, Martinez, Zamora, Davila. All possessed wonderful styles and made for great fights. You really can't go wrong with that era when you just feel like binge watching some old fights.

[dagosd2000]

Excellent work as always Rog! You talked about Norton often getting tired in the middle of his bouts and mentioned his physique. It seems these musclebound guys do get winded quicker. I remember Holyfield, who was in as good a shape as anyone, completely spartan lifestyle could often tire out but find his second win. Often fighting in bursts. Wladimir Klitshcko was the same, Joshua is the same but perhaps the latter two it's even more pronounced. It's not a rule of thumb because I'm sure we can point to plenty of meat heads that never tired but at heavyweight it does appear more often than not to be the case. I suppose all the oxygen sucking up those muscles, plus shifting 210/200+ lbs around a ring while a giant is trying to take off your head will do it.

I was discussing those Ali-Frazier-Foreman-Norton fights the other day. I felt Norton won 2-1, with every fight of the series being clear cut (Norton, Ali, Norton in that order) whereas we know Joe was 1-2 vs. Ali and Foreman was handled. I tend to think the March 8th, 1971 Frazier beats any Ali but wondered if Ali wasn't as up to par due to the Norton bouts not being championship bouts and more specifically not being a Joe Frazier or a George Foreman? The third fight, Ali, of course had already gone through Manila. Or also that it could purely have been style. Norton had smarts and being around Futch so much knew how to fight Ali. Norton, I suppose could do really well with the boxers but struggle with the bangers. He would probably always give Holmes a hard time too but I suspect he would be taken out by Frazier sometime in the middle rounds.

Thanks Chris.When you get your book published I'm looking forward to reading it.You mentioned Holyfield. There was a concern about his stamina perhaps connected to a heart issue when he fought Bowe. Before that he was always there for every round of a fight.But he wanted to go up to heavyweight,but needed to pack on more muscle.He contacted Lee Haney,the Mr. Olympia ,who put him on a regimen of taking steroids and growth hormones. Holyfield gained the weight,but often with PEDs he began having some irregular heart rhythms.You could see the water that had accumulated in his pecs,the protruding forehead.and the hair loss(all signs of PED use).Eventually Holyfield regulated the doses so he didn't experience any more collapses during a fight. Norton ,on the other hand,from the get go had a wind problem. He never worked out with weights and ran hard when training.It was mental thing. Dr. Dean(Dean Ezell),a hyponotist,who had an act at the Midway Chuckwagon(an all you can eat buffet joint near the navy base)offered to help Norton overcome this stonewall. BTW a young Regis Philbin introduced Ezell's act.After under Ezell's hypnosis sessions,Norton straightened himself out. However,Norton was ungrateful and said that Ezell's influence had little to do with his recovery.

I'm going to Tijuana today. When I get back I'll write a piece about an experience I had with Manuel Ortiz in San Diego just before his passing away.

[chrisjs1985]

Fantastic! Looking forward to reading it. I’m trying to find as much as I can on Ortiz.

[dagosd2000]

The Orient

It was during the height of the Vietnam War.At night the downtown area of San Diego was a serviceman's town,more exactly it was the stomping grounds for the Navy.A big part of San Diego's economy has and is reliant on the military,but because of all the ships that make their port of call here the sailors are the ones,after changing into their civvies, that prowl the streets at night seeking all the tawdry pleasures of life.

The downtown area I'm referring to started at the docks south of lower Broadway running east to roughly 16th Street.Comprised inside this quadrant were all the amenities that warmed the cockles(and the cocks)of our men in blue-massage parlors,cardrooms,dirty book stores,X rated movie houses,flophouses,Asian restaurants,(ie.Japanese,Chinese,Korean,and Philippino),and most of all the bars. But these weren't the watering holes for the traditional midwestern farm boys from Nebraska(except for the Chee Club and Bompensiro's joint).No, these dens of sin were for the Nebraska farm boys who had joined the Navy to see the world and once they got to Subic Bay and sampled the local entertainment they all came down with "Soy Sauce Fever."

The head of the family that lived next to us when I was a kid was a Japanese fellow named Minoru Takasugi. Him and his wife had four boys. I played with all of them growing up. Takasugi,who everyone called Tak,although I always called him Mr. Takasugi,was a guy with a lot o street smarts and liked to carve his niche into the sordid ways of the world. He was interned in one of those camps during the big war and that's where he met his wife,a diminutive pretty gal named Mitzi.Both were born in LA,but after the war Tak and his wife moved to San Diego because he had purchased a small tuna boat,around 200 tons capacity.The crew pole fished and the showers were saltwater.Tak was doing pretty good catching albacore.The economy was on the rise and he bought the house that was next door to our family's. But then his boat caught fire and sank and he had to find another endeavor in life so he bought a bar in downtown San Diego.

The bar that interested him was named The Rio. It had sort of a Brazilian theme,but that was really a stretch. I think the reason the owner named the place The Rio was because there was a big mirror behind the bar that had an etching of Sugarloaf Mountain that was in Rio De Janeiro's bay.When Tak bought the place he kept the mirror and changed the name of the bar to The Orient.No one called him out about the mirror. The bar was right down his alley. Tak liked to drink,chase women,and play cards.He hired all Asain gals. There was a pecking order amongst them-the Japanese girls thought they were the elite,then a distant second were the Korean girls,and at the bottom of the food chain were the Filippinas. I never saw any Chinese women working in those Asian bars and that I think was because we never had servicemen in China.

I'd usually stumble in The Orient around 6 in the evening.It was located in a good spot on the corner of 5th and E streets. There was a cardroom right next door.Tak's son ,Randy, more or less ran things under his father.Randy was a lot like his dad.He liked to play cards ,sometimes all night after closing down the cardroom next door;was a pool hustler;chain smoked ;and loved his liquor,not to mention the girls behind the bar. Randy liked to sample the hot flesh of the girls that hustled the customers. They all had Anglo nicknames-Brandy,Crystal,Amy.The Korean girls' real names were either Li,Kim,or Park.I'd rather call one of them Ginger.

You'd see the girls spreading the newspapers on one of the pool tables searching to see what ships were in port. They knew all the names of those ships and most of the names of the swabbies on board. And those sailors were also acquainted with those fallen flowers. The girls made most of their living with the clientele hustling drinks,playing pool,pinball,and then at closing time easily enticing those marks up to their hotel rooms that were just around the corner. In the morning those sailors were dead broke,but somehow they'd be back the next day with a borrowed bankroll doing the same drill.

I was in The Orient so much that I could have been a stool. If that place was Belshazzar's Feast then the writing on the wall for sure was that I would never live in The Kingdom Of God. One night,after consuming enough alcohol to break the breathalyzer machine,I focused on this little old guy that was sitting at the bar near the door. The girls ran up to him when he sat down and was served his "poison" in a shot glass like they had done this ritual a hundred times before.. There was nothing remarkable about him only that his face rang a bell with me. I could tell he was Hispanic,probably Mexican.His hair was still full denoting the Indian in him but had turned an iron gray. The copper hue of his long face was wrinkled and he was in need of a shave. A broken beak nose held some clues.His dark eyes were flanked by a sea of yellow.Underneath, bags retaining the fluid of excesses foreshadowed of a life that was slowly extinguishing itself. As he gripped the shot glass I could see his gnarled hands on the ends of his sinewy forearms.He was drunk,but relatively steady. He still had control.He took out a pouch from his shirt pocket and began rolling a cigarette.One of the girls struck a match and lit it for him.I wasn't close enough to get in on the conversation. After finishing his drink,the girls kissed him on the cheek and he got up and left.

I asked Tak,who was sitting next to me at the other end of the bar, who the guy was.
"He used to be a fighter,"he answered."The girls call him 'Charlie.' "
Now things were getting into focus for me.
"Did he fight in San Diego?"I asked.
""That was a long time ago.I think he was a champion of some kind."
When Tak said "champion" then it struck me.
"I bet that guy is Manuel Ortiz,"I blurted."I read somewhere where he lives in San Diego."
"Ortiz?I think that's his name. He comes in here a lot. Everyone around here knows him.He's in all the bars.Go talk to Joyce.She knows him pretty well."
I walked over to where Joyce was behind the bar. She was smoking a cigarette and had her leg up on a bar stool. I could the thick hosiery that went up to her thigh. She was blowing smoke rings and staring off into space.
"Who was that old guy you were just talking to?"I asked .
"You mean Charlie?"
"Yeah,that's the guy.What's his real name?"
"There are no real names here", she answered as she blew another smoke ring.
"Didn't he used to be a fighter?"
"I think so.He said that one time. He always buy me a drink.He's number 'one' ".
I went back to the other end of the bar to talk to Tak.
"That guy used to be the bantamweight champion of the world,"I said.
"Well,He's in here almost every night.You can talk to him then."

But Manuel Ortiz,"Charlie" to the girls and everyone else, never came back.I forgot about it after awhile. Then when day when I was reading the morning paper I caught an article on the back of the sports page at the bottom.It was a three liner.It said something to the effect of "Manuel Ortiz Former bantamweight champ dies of cirrhosis of the liver in a San Diego hospital." The story didn't mention much of anything else.Nothing about his family or career.Just his age.He was 53.

The Orient Bar. Home to sailors,B girls,transvestites,winos,hustlers,street people,ex fighters,and someone like myself that indulged in instant gratification. I can never forget anything like that even though I try to sometimes.

Manuel Ortiz

[chrisjs1985]

Nice piece Roger. Sadly, it seems very little is written or known of Ortiz. There is very limited footage out there, I can't think of anything written in depth and certainly no book or anything that I know of. Seems that most of what is know about him is that he had two reigns, made a ton of defenses, was a popular ticket seller and then died early from booze. I believe he lived in El Centro until his late teens/early 20's and turned pro at the Legion. Not sure when he moved to San Diego from Riverside.

The Bantamweight division is quite possibly my favorite in history and though I am totally aware of his accomplishments, love the available footage of him, it frustrates me that there's still so little known or said about Ortiz. There was a superb book written not too long ago on Panama Al Brown, Olivares and Zarate released books in Mexico, there's a couple on Jofre from way back in Brazil, (plus my upcoming one in English. A shameless self promotion plug I must admit ), Lionel Rose wrote his autobiography, there's a few books on Harada in Japanese etc; but nothing on Ortiz, a name that appears as a staple in the top 5 bantamweights.

On another subject, I was wondering if anyone here has read this book on Gaspar Ortega? I think I'll have to get this.

[dagosd2000]

Nice piece Roger. Sadly, it seems very little is written or known of Ortiz. There is very limited footage out there, I can't think of anything written in depth and certainly no book or anything that I know of. Seems that most of what is know about him is that he had two reigns, made a ton of defenses, was a popular ticket seller and then died early from booze. I believe he lived in El Centro until his late teens/early 20's and turned pro at the Legion. Not sure when he moved to San Diego from Riverside.

The Bantamweight division is quite possibly my favorite in history and though I am totally aware of his accomplishments, love the available footage of him, it frustrates me that there's still so little known or said about Ortiz. There was a superb book written not too long ago on Panama Al Brown, Olivares and Zarate released books in Mexico, there's a couple on Jofre from way back in Brazil, (plus my upcoming one in English. A shameless self promotion plug I must admit ), Lionel Rose wrote his autobiography, there's a few books on Harada in Japanese etc; but nothing on Ortiz, a name that appears as a staple in the top 5 bantamweights.

On another subject, I was wondering if anyone here has read this book on Gaspar Ortega? I think I'll have to get this.

Chris

Aileen Eaton would talk about Ortiz prior to the televised fights at the Olympic Auditorium. She would reminisce about the local rivalry between Ortiz and Benny Goldberg,another bantamweight fighter who deserves a lot more print.Goldberg beat Ortiz twice early on in both their careers. Later,Ortiz successfully defended his title against him.She also talked about how Ortiz got his start in boxing. He was a field worker picking crops In the San Joaquin Valley in Central California. For recreation the workers liked to go to the fights that were held inside the local ice house. One night one of the prelim fighters didn't show up. Ortiz,who could handle himself pretty well in a street fight,was coaxed by his pals(Ortiz was pretty well snockered)to get in the ring to fight as a sub. Ortiz trounced the guy.Frank Baltazar,one of the thread's original posters,as a young kid growing up in East LA,would go to the Hollywood Legion Stadium and the Olympic Auditorium to watch Ortiz fight. Ortiz was Frank's favorite fighter.Frank has a "ton" of memorabila from those fights(mostly programs).Ortiz didn't have the charisma of an Art "Golden Boy" Aragon ,but his record speaks for itself.

The Ortega book looks very interesting.My wife and I are friends with Ortega and his wife. He lived in Tijuana in Colonia Morelos and after fighting settled in New York City.


Frank Baltazar standing with his wife,Connie,son Frankie(a main eventer at the Olympic),and Frank's sister. It was a Father And Son event at Steven's Steakhouse in the City Of Industry.


Gaspar Ortega and my wife,Maria,at a WBHOF dinner.

[chrisjs1985]

Brilliant stuff. I've read through this thread a lot and seen that Frank put Ortiz as his choice for the best bantamweight ever. Rick Farris puts Jofre as #1 with the main difference being his cleaner lifestyle and consistency. I think Zarate is right up there too. I felt he never lost in the division since the Pintor fight was a heist and he was so consistent and dominant. I'm not sure who would have won in their primes between he and Olivares. He dismantled his closest rivals in a way few fighters did.

I think I'll get that Gaspar book. Good to see he's still going after all the wars he had. I didn't realize he lived in New York. I would have assumed he'd live this way.

[dagosd2000]

Brilliant stuff. I've read through this thread a lot and seen that Frank put Ortiz as his choice for the best bantamweight ever. Rick Farris puts Jofre as #1 with the main difference being his cleaner lifestyle and consistency. I think Zarate is right up there too. I felt he never lost in the division since the Pintor fight was a heist and he was so consistent and dominant. I'm not sure who would have won in their primes between he and Olivares. He dismantled his closest rivals in a way few fighters did.

I think I'll get that Gaspar book. Good to see he's still going after all the wars he had. I didn't realize he lived in New York. I would have assumed he'd live this way.

Chris
Ortega was invited to Tijuana around 15 years ago to help christen the boxing gym named after him that was erected in Parque Benito Juarez in the Zona Norte that's a stone's throw across from the U.S. border. He went,but said that he was disappointed about how the neighborhood had decayed. I told him that I went to visit the park and to see how the gym was getting along. I've written about how the park has turned into a haven for drug addicts,thieves, and the destitute. No one was in the park the last time I went there. It used to be a nice place to recreate ,but now everything has deteriorated and let go.Last year alone there were close to 300 murders in the area(about ten square blocks).I went inside the gym.There were a couple of guys using the weights. There were no fighters. They said that that day was the last day the facility would be open. Because of the dangers the city decided to shut everything.

When I told Ortega about "his" gym he just shook his head and looked to the floor. He's good friends with Carlos Ortiz. I guess they both had bars in New York,but I don't think that's the case now. Gaspar's son ,Mike,was a prominent referee in the Northeast.

The last day of Gymnasio Indio Ortega. The sign on the ring says "Welcome."

[dagosd2000]

Time To Take Stock

As the sports world is on hold,it's a good time to look at what the current temperature is regarding boxing.Diehard fight fans aren't usually too devoted to any other athletic competitions.It's like George Foreman once said "Boxing is the one sport all others aspire."


Boxing has been struggling of late. The MMA is the contact sport in vogue.The millennials grew up missing Mike Tyson who was the last of boxing's super stars who had enough juice that daddies named their first born sons after him.Today, fighting inside a caged octagon ,no holds barred,is the kind of action that moves the youngsters' meters.It's brutal and fast.You can make an analogy with that with the way a 21 year old makes love:it's over in 30 seconds.Boxing is too restricted.Too many rules:having to wear padded gloves,can't tackle and throw a man to the ground,nor kick a guy in the balls. Boxing is too slow. It's boring. To add insult to the sweet science everyone knows a boxer can't beat a mixed marshal artist in a no holds barred fight. it has to be the boxer against the mixed marshal artist in a "boxing match."

If Ali had fought that big Jap Inoki without all those pre fight rules, that protected Ali from getting turned inside out,Muhammad would have been looked like a bowl of sushi.It turned out that that spectacle was the most boring ripoff encounter in the history of one man against another. I think Ali threw 2 or 3 jabs.Everytime Inoki grabbed Ali all The Greatest had to do was grab the ropes and the two were separated. Recently,the public paid top dollar to watch Floyd Mayweather wear down Conor McGregor in a boxing match. The Irishman,who had never had a pro fight, couldn't finish the 10th round. Remember the show between Andre The Giant and Chuck Wepner? Andre was allowed to do battle without wearing any handcuffs. Chuck wore the gloves and wanted to "box" The Eifel Tower. Before you could say "Merci beaucoup"Andre grabbed hold of Wepner,brought his size 8 and a half head down on top of Chuck's dome,picked up the semi conscious Bayonne Bruiser like a barbell ,and tossed him into the cheap seats.But that's the way of life.

So I can't say that today's fans of the physical contact can agree with George Foreman's assessment that all the other sports "aspire" to the level of boxing. Hell,they don't even know who George Foreman is except some old black guy that sells barbeques.But boxing is an art if performed by maestros. The Marquis Of Queensbury is in the ring so in order to emerge victorious the fighter needs to draw on skills more than raw savagery.It's not to say that boxing is less brutal. Watching Gatti and Ward trade punches in 3 ebb and flow battles was, in a sense ,poetry of the ape.Watching MMA is something that's applicable for a cage.Besides,I like to take my time when I'm f--king.


Arturo Gatti

[dagosd2000]

The Tuneup Fight

Bobby Chacon was still a very hot fighter when he stepped into the ring to fight Alejandro Lopez at the San Diego Coliseum. Chacon had a record of 35 wins against 3 defeats. The 3 losses were against his archenemies Bazooka Limon(1) and Ruben Olivares(2).Bobby ,by this time,had grown into the featherweight division.I had seen Chacon fight Olivares the second time at the LA Forum in front of a packed and crazy crowd. You couldn't have asked for a better rivalry between a Chicano fighter and a Mexican national. As usual in the Southland ,when those types faced off against each other, all the Mexicans,regardless of their citizenships, were rooting for the native son. I liked both fighters,but was a little taken aback by the way Olivares seemed to have Bobby's number. The second fight,the one I saw at The Forum,was a real disappointment.But the fans wanted more of Bobby and Ruben,but first Chacon had to reset himself.

San Diego was a good spot for a fighter to get in a good workout before stepping up again against a top quality fighter.Bobby had slipped into San Diego two previous times breaking a good sweat against the trial horse from Tijuana,Jorge Ramos.It's always interesting to think how a great fighter can look practically inept against another great fighter.I'm thinking about the time when Chacon and Little Red Lopez squared off against each other at The LA Sports Arena. Bobby went right through Danny. Lopez,an accurate and tremendous puncher,landed his best shots on Bobby's chin without him taking a step back.Later,when Lopez faced Olivares,Danny's power exploded against Ruben stopping him in the 7th round.Danny couldn't beat Bobby who couldn't beat Ruben.When Bobby climbed into the ring against Alejandro Lopez it was to get ready for a third try against Ruben.

The San Diego Coliseum seldom was a venue for the great fighters in the primes of their careers,or at least they never put it on the line with anyone near their quality. Norton was a fledgling here starting out.When he fought Ali at The Sports Arena it was Muhammad that was showcased,but it turned out to be the launching pad for Kenny.We called Archie Moore one of our own but he never defended his title in San Diego.Terry Norris did defend his title twice in San Diego,but in the old days they would have been called "non title fights." Little Red,while the feather champ,fought Jose Olivares in a tuneup.Jose had a record of 10 and 18.During the Golden Years Of Boxing in the Southland San Diego arenas never saw Jose Napoles,Vicente Saldivar,Ruben Olivares,Jerry Quarry,Rafael Herrera,Mando Ramos,Sugar Ramos,nor Julio Cesar Chavez. So when LA threw us a bone we chomped on it. Bobby Chacon and Alejandro Lopez? Sure.Let it rip.

I don't remember too much of the fight. Alejandro Lopez was there to give Bobby a workout.For me,regardless if I'm watching a great fighter,I want to see more or less something that's competitive. Chacon won every round. Lopez sat on his stool at the bell sounding the start of the 8th.The crowd,including myself,left The Coliseum feeling we didn't get our money's worth.But what's to expected?The great fighters can't fight their equals every time out of the gate.It would be too much of a mental strain. Ray Robinson would need something "softer" before fighting LaMotta again.Same when Pep lost to Saddler.Willie "got well" a few times before he saw Sandy the second time.. When Jose Napoles lost to Billy Backus he returned to his old stomping grounds,The Arena Coliseo in Mexico City, to get it back together against the veteran Manny Gonzalez.Jose pulled out everything he had in his arsenal though at a pedestrian pace.It was the first time I had ever heard the aficianados give Mantequilla the chifles,the derogatory whistles, before he finally said to himself "Now I'll try my left hook to the liver." It was over right then and there.

But look at the records of the Hall Of Fame fighters.They built their legacies fighting their peers as well as the lesser mortals. Babe Ruth hit his 60th legendary home run off a pitcher named Tom Zachary.Now that would be a good question in a game of trivia pursuit.

Not everyone can say they got a kiss from The Great Bobby Chacon

[dagosd2000]

Hutzpah

When I talk about Bob Johnston,who owned the last burlesque house in the U.S.,The Hollywood Theater, that was located at the bottom of Market Street in San Diego ,and his brother Charlie ,who took care of Archie Moore and Sandy Saddler,I fail to mention big brother Jimmie,who steered the careers of Ted "Kid" Lewis,Harry Greb,and Johnny Dundee. Jimmie died in 1946,but handed off his managerial skills to his little brother Charlie. Jimmie Johnston was of that Runyanesque Roaring 20's era of gangsters,gamblers,jazz,bootleg booze,and boxers. Many of the fighters fighting in those clapboard arenas were Jewish. In fact Jews comprised most of the racial profiles that made their living fighting in the ring. There were the Attells,Benny Leonard,"Kid" Lewis,Barney Ross,Lew Tendler,Jackie "Kid" Berg,to name a few. I bet you didn't know this one(I didn't):between 1910 and 1940 there were 26 Jewish fighters that at one time or another wore diamond studded championship belts around their middles.

The reason I bring up Jimmie Johnston's name is because he was quoted saying...

"You take a Jewish boy and sooner or later his race is decried.He tries so much harder to fight back for his people and himself since he sees himself as a representative of all Jews.The knowledge that more than one Jew is on trial when he is fighting gives him more incentive for training faithfully and takes more pride in his work."

I don't know if that quote merits being engraved in stone,but there's a lot of truth in those words. But if we think boxing is a tough road to hoe today,imagine what prizefighting was like when bouts were scheduled for 40 rounds, there were no mouthguards,protective cups,and the rules let a fighter stand over his opponent ,who had just been socked to the canvas, and wallop him again before getting to his feet.Neutral corners were for sissies. But since fighters of all the races swam in the same fish tank,I think that during times of ring duress they drew into what their DNA represented giving them water wings to tread water. Sadly,it was the black fighter who most often had to sell his soul to boxing's spin doctors in order to continue fighting and never get a title shot.

For the post baby boomer fight enthusiasts they didn't see any Jewish fighters when watching the Friday Night Fights on the TV sitting besides their dads in their comfy living rooms. But the Jews didn't abandon boxing by any means. The guys pulling the strings wore their yarmulkes when saying their prayers kneeling beside their beds at night. Without the Jews (and organized crime) controlling much of boxing here and in the United Kingdom;matchmaking,managing,training(now to a lesser extent),the gym operators, the scribes writing it in the books, magazines and newspapers,and the ringside pundits who have found a voice on the TV screen,the sport would be a footnote below the fold on the back of the sports page.

After the big war Jews traded in their boxing gloves for earning college diplomas.If a Jewish kid today would tell his folks that he wanted to be a prizefighter when he grew up,they'd look at him and say"meshuga!"


One of the great Jewish fighters-Maxie Rosenbloom

[bollocks]

Sorry, didn't know where else to post this but thought some of you guys may appreciate it...a photo of Fighting Harada with his 2 Aussie opponents, Johnny Famechon and Lionel Rose. I've never seen this photo before and am not sure where it was taken but most likely Australia, as Harada was a regular visitor here

[bollocks]

p s legend has it that during one particular visit to Australia by Harada he and Lionel were walking along a Sydney street when a random idiot started racially abusing Lionel. Lionel ignored it all but the guy continued to harass Lionel until finally, Fighting Harada had seen enough. He stepped forward and put the guy on his arse

[dagosd2000]

p s legend has it that during one particular visit to Australia by Harada he and Lionel were walking along a Sydney street when a random idiot started racially abusing Lionel. Lionel ignored it all but the guy continued to harass Lionel until finally, Fighting Harada had seen enough. He stepped forward and put the guy on his arse

Bollocks
Thanks for posting that. Lionel Rose,though from Australia and a champ,suffered from a lot of abuse as a young man in his own country because of his color.As a kid the government tried to wrest Rose from his parents and put him in a boarding school which was a common practice in Australia. One of the reasons his father,who was a fighter,steered his son onto boxing.After winning the featherweight title the country reached out to him more,especially the aborigine population who put him up on a pedestal.I was at the LA Forum when I saw him lose to his title Olivares.Rose had beaten Chucho Castillo earlier in a close but a fight that was score fairly. When Rose was announced the winner there was a riot. I saw that one also and was lucky to get out of there alive.Rose was also getting a lot of verbal abuse from the crowd during that fight.I had a feeling during the fight that Rose was winning and that he'd hold onto his crown.When they announced him the winner I knew that all hell would break out.

When I first got married I was managing a garden shop in San Diego. For some reason a tour bus filled with Australians stopped at the garden shop. I had a black kid working with me at the time. I was at the register and this Aussie old guy comes to the counter and says...
"Can you tell your n----r(pointing to the black kid)to get me a sack of potting soil."
At first I was taken aback.Then I told him to get out and not come back. I don't think he fathomed at what I meant.



George Parnassus,prominent promoter in LA.Involved with some of Roses fights at the Forum.

[dagosd2000]

d