BoxRec

Rick Farris wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

Guys
Anything on Arturo Lomeli? Saw him fight in TJ against Hedge Lewis and his final fight against Quincy Daniels at the Coliseum. I thought he was a worthy fighter.

Roger . . . On this night, Arturo Lomeli gave the "Maravilla Kid" an ass-whipping, knocking him down twice on his way to a unanimous dec. win (Navarro's first pro loss). Two years later, Ruben would get his revenge at the Olympic easily outpointing the Mexican Lightweight champ. I fought on the undecard of that one.

-Rick

I only saw him fight once, in the rematch with Gil King. But as a lightweight he was supposed to be something. I've found articles where it was mentioned they wanted him to fight Mando Ramos for the title and he was doing awesome with wins over Ruben, Bunny Grant, Frankie Narvaez and Alfredo Urbina. But then something funny happened, he gets sparked inexplicably in 5 rounds by Mexican clubfighter Delfino Rosales and really goes downhill from there. On Rosales' record he never really achieves anything. He did fight Saldivar for the Mexican 126 lb. title which was fairly cool, but the only other real nme on his log was Dwight Hawkins, whom amazingly, he KO'd in 9. Really nothing else of notoriety but this Rosales takes out 2 of the most highly rated fighters in the game at the time. In boxing anything can happen. Does anyone remember those fights?

Scartissue

kikibalt wrote:

Was Eddie Futch a neighbor of yours, Frank?

deleted

Delfino Rosales . . .

Scar . . . I believe that Hawkins was stopped on a cut. However, I saw Fino Roslaes fight and he was pretty good. I thought that Lomeli was a monster when he whipped Ruben, he was very cool and collected in taking Ruben apart. I recall as Ruben hit the canvas for the second time he rose to his knees, and crossed himself dramaticly. It was just a bad night for the Maravilla Kid. But Ruben got his revenge.

-Rick Farris

kikibalt wrote:

These were L.A. boxing personalities that passed in 1994. Here is some irony. About a year before this was printed, I heard John Cabrera tell somebody that Frank Baltazar Sr. had passed away. A year later Cabrera was gone, fifteen years later our Frankie is still going strong!

-Rick Farris

kikibalt wrote:TOM “THE BOMB” BETHEA
By Jim Amato

Although he won only one more fight then he lost in his career Tom “The Bomb” Bethea was once ranked among the world’s leading middleweights and light heavyweights. Bethea turned pro in 1967 and won nine of his first eleven bouts. He then suffered a KO loss to Leon Washington. Tom Bethea was always matched tough throughout his career. He next lost decisions to future middleweight king Carlos Monzon and former welterweight champ Luis Rodriguez.

On March 13, 1970 Bethea was paired up with reigning middleweight titleholder Nino Benvenuti in a non-title fight. The battle took place in Australia. Whether Nino was in top shape is debatable. The fact is that Bethea dished out quite a body beating to Benvenuti forcing Nino to quit. It was a stunning upset and a rematch with the title on the line was immediate. This time Nino boxed smartly and was well ahead when he halted Bethea in the eighth round.

From this point on Bethea lost as many as he would win but he faced nothing but first-rate opposition. He lost to Bennie Briscoe, Jean Claude Bouttier, Billy Douglas and Ralph Palladin. Bethea then moved up to light heavyweight. He suffered defeats at the hands of Bobby Cassidy and Eddie “Bossman” Jones but he did beat the highly regarded Lonnie Bennett. In a ten fight streak between 1974 - 1976 Tom went 8-0-2. He bested Domenico Adinolfi, Tom Bogs and Douglas in a return. Bethea was now ranked among the worlds best at 175 pounds. Then came a close decision loss to Mike Quarry. Losses to Marvin Johnson, Michael Spinks and Marvin Camel would follow before Tom retired.

Although his 46 bout record stands at 22-21-3, this is clearly not reflective of the quality opponents he faced. Bethea met six world champions and eight others who attempted to win a title in his very respectable career.

Little known fact; Randy was in a televised match on the under card of the Bethea Vs. Quarry fight.
Bruce

Rick Farris wrote:Guys . . . I just wrote what was probably the best boxing story I've ever written. It didn't start out that way, but as I wrote a post relating to an LA memory, I started to develop it, and things just kinda flowed, which is a good thing for a writer. It took me about three hours, the last half hour just editing. When I hit the "submit" button, the page disappeared and the notice came that my web page for our thread had expired. I paniced, trying to save the story, but it was lost. It happened years before to me when I was posting on the CBZ, but this was really special. I know better than to write something here, and should have done it off line, and then posted it. Damn, I think you guys would have liked it, it was something I would use in the future.

Oh well, that's life . . .

-Rick

Rick

Sorry to say this but you have to learn the hard way. Its like you forever telling a novice fighter to keeps his hands up and he still drops them. Hit him hard on the jaw a couple of times he will learn pretty fast. Sometimes as they say you have to be cruel to be kind. I have done it many times in the past Rick but now if on line i save at regular intervals, so at least i don't have to start all over again.
Thank for the welcome Rick

Now who else have i not Thanked Ahhhhhhhhh Frank, Bennie, and Roger -- Cheers
If i missed anyone buy yourself a beer on me and ask the barmen to put it on my tab

Wildhawke11 wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:Guys . . . I just wrote what was probably the best boxing story I've ever written. It didn't start out that way, but as I wrote a post relating to an LA memory, I started to develop it, and things just kinda flowed, which is a good thing for a writer. It took me about three hours, the last half hour just editing. When I hit the "submit" button, the page disappeared and the notice came that my web page for our thread had expired. I paniced, trying to save the story, but it was lost. It happened years before to me when I was posting on the CBZ, but this was really special. I know better than to write something here, and should have done it off line, and then posted it. Damn, I think you guys would have liked it, it was something I would use in the future.

Oh well, that's life . . .

-Rick

Rick

Sorry to say this but you have to learn the hard way. Its like you forever telling a novice fighter to keeps his hands up and he still drops them. Hit him hard on the jaw a couple of times he will learn pretty fast. Sometimes as they say you have to be cruel to be kind. I have done it many times in the past Rick but now if on line i save at regular intervals, so at least i don't have to start all over again.
Thank for the welcome Rick

Now who else have i not Thanked Ahhhhhhhhh Frank, Bennie, and Roger -- Cheers
If i missed anyone buy yourself a beer on me and ask the barmen to put it on my tab

You're right Danny. It's my own fault. It started as a simple post, but it grew, and was really too long for this thread, but still a quick read. I'll try to redo it, sometime, not today. It was a Mando Ramos memory. I found myself sitting in that time machine, it took me back to December 10th, 1970. Yeah, I'll rewrite it and add a copy of the program for his fight with former stablemate, Raul Rojas. It was a great night, a huge crowd, an Olympic box-office record breaker. I fought, Mando Muniz fought and so did Irish Frankie Crawford. We were on the televised portion of the program, but the only ones who would see Mando fight were in the house, and it had sold out six hours after tickets went on sale weeks earlier. Anyway, it was a great night, and I'll share it with everybody soon.

-Rick Farris

dagosd2000 wrote:BASURALANDIA

I hadn't been up there in a long time. Not since I was living in Tijuana 30 or so years ago. I don't know what compelled me to drive up there. It was about 3 months agp. I was in that part of Tijuana by the Boulevard. I had a hard time finding it.I had to ask directions and drive around dirt roads to find it. It's way in the back on the outskirts. Tijuaneros call the place Basuralandia. Trash Land in English. I think it's an official Colonia. Even has an official name. I'm not sure.

Basuralandia is Tijuana's dump. People live off that dump. It's their world.Many of the people there are dying of AIDS,TB,and gangrene. Everything in that trash they try to make use of. Cardboard boxes, empty paint cans,greasy clothes,garbage. They make their houses and eat their food from the trash people throw away in Tijuana. People in Tijuana don't throw things away like they do in parts of San Diego. Some people here throw away antiques and microwaves that piss them off because the light doesn't come on anymore when they open the door.

About ten years ago I was watching the local news on TV. They were doing a piece on Basuralandia. The plight of those people. The people there wanted the city to build them a school so their kids could learn to read and write. Yoko Ono,the late John Lennon's wife, was in the studio promoting a rock concert for her son. When she saw the piece on Basuralandia, she wrote a check for 6 thousand dollars so they could have a school.

Mother Teresa opened a mission there. The old Saint would live there with the people and do her work. I'd see her once in a while at the penatentiary visiting the sick prisoners who didn't get visitors because they had no one.

Yeh,I don't know what made me go up there.Maybe I needed to know that there are billions of people in this world that are suffering. Not just to read it in the papers or see it on the news.

I watched the stooped shoulders sifting through the rubbish. Slowly picking and sifting. Their bodies silohuetted against the gray sky. All that overlooked the city.I wanted to see that I guess.

You guys know Bruce. Bobbin' and Weavin'. He emailed me the other day. His church constructs houses for needy people. He wants to set up a base of operations in San Diego and perhaps make connections to cross the border to make some houses in Tijuana.

I gave Bruce a number to call. I hope he can put things together. If he does ,I want him to give me a jingle.I'd like to help.

Bruce,if that happens and you're looking for some place to go ,I can always steer you to Basuralandia.

Roger thanks, I'll put you on the list, we are in the process of planning this years trip that will be June 14 to June 20. On my way I will detour to Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo to see my daughter graduate from college on the 13th, Then off to guilde a group of teens through their community service work. Two years ago we took a group of 60 teens and 20 adults to Tijuana to build houses, I was stunned at the poverty but more than that I got caught by one of the teens with tears rolling down my face because I got caught up in a "what if" moment. You see my wifes parents were raised in Mexico in poverty but left in 1954, they have always treated me like gold and they gave me the best thing that ever happen to me and my moment of "what if" was what if they never left and my wife would have been raised in one of the places similar to where we were working.

Bruce

This is the story by Rocky that Rick liked


The Hatchetman

By Aram "Rocky" Alkazoff

The "Hatchetman".

Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard.

Something about the name gives you a cold feeling.

Roll it around your mouth and you get the notion you're saying the name
of a old time outlaw or gunfighter. That's some nickname, "Hatchetman". How many guys in boxing get a nickname like that? I was starting to think I might have what it took to be a pro fighter when I first heard the name. I was only a teenager, but guys in the neighbourhood told me I had a big punch in both hands. That thought got into my young head, and I started to read anything on boxing I could get my hands on. No Gene Tunneys, Billy Conns, Willie Peps, or Tippy
Larkins for me. I only wanted to read about the guys who could crack. I related to Dempsey, Louis, Marciano, Sonny Liston. I wanted to be one
of them.

I remember how impressed I was by Rocky Marciano, how he had destroyed
so many legendary names, but the job he did on Archie Moore amazed me
the most. I couldn't believe anybody hit hard enough to bust up the
great Moore the way Rocky did.

So what happens? I read a Ring Magazine article about The "Old Mongoose" in which he was asked who was the hardest hitter he ever faced. I'm expecting him to rave about Rocky and what does he say? It went something like this: "Hatchetman" Sheppard. This guy was something else! When the Hatchetman hit you it was like a electric shock struck you! Hatchetman knocked me down so hard I bounced off the canvas. I decisioned him twice mainly by making him miss."

Who the hell was Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard? Could he really hit harder than the tremendous fighters Moore was in with? Guys like Marciano, Charles, Patterson, Ali, and Harold Johnson? There was a picture of the Hatchetman in the article and I took a close look at it. Curtis was a dark-skinned black guy with a cold, destroying look in his eyes. Standing with his shoulders hunched in fighting position. he looked the every image of Disaster. Big bones, gigantic fists, and smooth muscles. I imagined getting hit with his straight right. What was it Moore said?

"This guy once hit a guy so hard he broke his collarbone."

Looking at him, that was easy to believe.

The second time I read something about Hatchetman was in a book called "The Great Fights". It mentioned that Joey Maxim, whom I recalled as an iron jawed, defensive boxer, suffered only one KO in his entire career--a one round destruction by Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard, a "tremendous puncher". That lesson was never forgotten by Maxim, who thereafter became a safety-first boxer and out boxed Sheppard a month later. But Sheppard had managed to knock Maxim out, whereas Walcott, Moore, Charles, Robinson, and Patterson couldn't. I wondered why I had never heard about him; I figured he must be one of those black fighters of the thirties and forties who couldn't catch a break. A Charley Burley-Lloyd Marshall type. To be black fighter with a murderous punch in that era was to be a victim of...well, let's call it "bad timing."

The years passed, and I didn't become a champion in the ring. I found a new profession, new friends, and a whole different way of life. But I kept up my interest as a fan, and I never forgot the name Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard or what Archie Moore said about him. One day in early 1988 I was indicted by the United States Government for various "organized criminal" offenses. The charges were laid, I believe, so as to pressure me into informing on people about whom the feds thought I had meaningful information. I was found guilty and given a life sentence.

After almost a year in Detroit Wayne County Jail, suffering through not only a lengthy trial, but a long detainment in solitary confinement for assault on a County sheriff I felt had disrespected me, I was chained up and transported to Chicago. In Federal custody I was driven to M.C.C. Chicago, a skyscraper prison in the middle of downtown, not far from where I had been raised. It was a holding building for people in Federal trial, court, informants, and those in transit to the Bureau of Prisons correctional system.


As I climbed out of the bus in the M.C.C. garage, some fresh air got into my lungs for a second. The first fresh air I had taken in for a year. You can imagine the shape I was in, what with the confinement, lack of exercise, terrible food, and depression. I was a mess, a shadow of the man I used to be. I was forty years old and facing the reality of spending the rest of my life in prison, all for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

When I reached the thirteenth floor and a bunk, I was very tired. I spotted a few people I knew from the streets, but I didn't even want to talk. I was ashamed of what I looked like. I went into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror for the first time in a year. I didn't like what I saw. My face was drawn, my eyes worn, my hair long and unruly, with twice as much gray as before. My rock hard 190 pounds was no more. I had a little stomach for the first time, and my muscles felt like they had no power. I put my head down in misery and hurt. Then I heard a man's voice speaking words I'll never forget. "C'mon Rocky. Pick up your head and act like the man I heard you were," he said. "I heard you was a good fighter. Well, now you're in the first round of a tough fight. C'mon, son. You've got a fight in front of you and it's time to start fighting back." I looked up and saw a tall, very dark-skinned black man who had the kindest eyes I had ever seen. His eyebrows were grayed and I could see more gray in his beard, but that didn't tell the whole story. Dressed in an orange prison jump suit, his forearms and biceps were solid, sinewy. He had a tucked-in waist and broad powerful shoulders, along with the absolute biggest fists I have ever seen. He was shaved bald, wore spectacles, and was carrying a big black Bible. He was so impressive in his health and vitality for a man his age, I might have
been worried had he not been so gentle in manner.

"I heard you was a pretty good fighter when you was younger," he said.

"I tried it some, but I didn't go all the way like maybe I should have," I answered, figuring he had talked to someone who knew me.

"That's why I knew I could talk to you," he said. "You ever heard of
Curtis "the Hatchetman" Sheppard? That's me."

The minute he said the name, I remembered the article and the picture. It was him! He was older, but it was him. Same head, same expression, same body and fists. The first thought I had was,"No wonder Moore said he hit so hard." One look at him and you knew he was built to punch. Imagine him saying he heard I was a pretty good fighter! Hatchetman Sheppard talking to me like I was good enough to relate to a fighter like him. I was ashamed to let him see me in this shape.

"Course I heard of you, Curtis," I said with respect. "You was some fighter. Archie Moore said you was the hardest hitter he ever boxed."

"Joe Maxim said it too," he laughed. "Two champs. But these young kids out there don't know. I heard you got "life", Rock. Is that true?"

"Yeah I did, Curtis," I answered, looking down. "I let them get to me. I broke down in the "Hole", man. I got down on myself and let myself go soft. I'm ashamed to let a great fighter like you see me like this. How about you, Curtis? What have they got...."

"Rocky, I have done over thirty-two years in prison for two crimes that I had no choice about," he said, cutting me off. "I've been on "death row" twice. I've been so far in hurt and hell, that I never thought I'd live again like a human being. I lost control just like you did. But with God I came back. I stayed locked up, but I became a proud man again. I got my pride back. That's what I want for you, Rocky. I want you to show me and God that you're a champion. I want you to pick yourself off the canvas and start fighting back like the great fighter I know you are."

Here was a guy who fought Moore, Walcott, Maxim, Bettina, and Bivins, and who had done thirty years plus, telling me to pick up my head and act like the fighter I was. He was telling me to come back to life after the death blow of my sentence! Who was I that he should talk to me like that? He didn't even know me.

I glanced up at him and was greeted by a smile, and a huge hand on my shoulder.

"I'm praying for you son," he said. "You clean up and come on out. We can talk about the old fighters. These young boys out here don't know anything. I need a buddy to take my side."

That was the beginning of my rebirth and my friendship with Curtis "Hatchetman" Sheppard, who went from being one of boxing's most feared
fighters, to possibly the most feared man in the Illinois Penitentiary System, to a gentle giant carrying a Bible.

The next day I said a prayer, got a haircut, ate three meals, and started doing pushups and sit ups with a seventy-four year old man. That was the beginning of my rebirth and the long road back.

As luck would have it, me and the Hatchetman were to both go to Oxford Federal Prison in Wisconsin. We sat next to each other on the bus, and I have to tell you I enjoyed the ride just to see some trees! Hatchetman was like a big happy kid on the ride, and was uncuffed to be a "trustee". That meant he brought water and served lunch, as well as doing cleanup. Watching this older man's energy and spirit was inspiring. My determination to do more than just survive grew as I watched him.


"You get a good rest Rocky," he said. "When we get to Oxford, heavy training starts. You start with your comeback."


He meant it.


When we arrived at Oxford, which was a double-fenced, razor- wired
hell in the middle of forests, Hatchetman was enthused.


"This is beautiful," he said happily. "Good air. Perfect for a
training camp."


He made me forget it was prison for a second.


Gradually I found out more about the Hatchetman. It was a hell of
story.

While Hatchetman was fighting in the late forties, he admitted that due to training he neglected his wife. He made good money as a fighter, and was renowned in the black community. He lived the high life of nightclubs, entertainers, athletes, and the famous. Eventually due to his neglect his wife took a Chicago policeman for a lover.

"She always had a thing for those 'high yaller' fellows," he said, shaking his head.


Hatchetman found them together, a fight ensued, and Hatchetman shot
the officer to death. His wife, mother of his only child, a son, ran almost naked to a police station. Her testimony put Hatchetman away for twenty long hard years. A year later, his wife's corpse was found in Lake Michigan.


All kinds of rumours floated around the city and the prisons about
her death. It was said, that Hatchetman was a "mob" fighter and she had
been killed in retaliation. Another rumour that--against all logic--persisted until the present day was that Hatchetman killed her and chopped off her head.


"Rock I'm telling you, this is the way it happened," said ----------, a known Chicago Black Gangster Disciple gang leader.


"Hatchetman came home and found her and the cop together. He stabbed
the cop, killed his wife and chopped off her head. Then he went to a
bar, ordered a drink, put his wife's head on the bar and said, "Give her
a drink too."


I was told that story by at least twenty seasoned convicts from
Chicago, who had heard of him or known him from Illinois prisons.


"That story was just a rumour, Rocky," Hatchetman said. "I couldn't
have killed my wife even if I'd had the opportunity. I was in love with
her. She was my son's mamma. When I heard she died, no one grieved as
much as me. But it wasn't any of my doing. These people in prison
heard the name 'Hatchetman', and shoot, they didn't know nothing about
boxing. They figured I got the name for chopping up people. They
didn't know it was because of my punching. I heard the stories but I was so crazy back then, I didn't even care. But no, son, I never killed my wife."


Hatchetman was bitter about the sentence and he did his twenty years with hate. He formed a gang in the prison system known as the "Black Gangsters", and established himself as Gangster number one. He became the most feared man in the prison system, not only because of his position as gang leader, but because of the ruthless way he used his fists on anyone who opposed him.


"I was taken over by the devil," he'd say with disgust.


"Taken over by the devil" meant just that. Hatchetman became involved the terrible activities that prison hatred breeds. His reputation as a fearsome inmate grew. Many a young boy in Cook County jail facing prison was greeted by seasoned cons with the warning, "Man, they gonna send you to Stateville and ol' Hatchetman will be waiting for you. He'll take a pretty young guy like you and knock you out and use you like a girl. He's so big and mean, there ain't gonna be a goddamn thing you can do about it!"


Hatchetman's reputation came to reach mythic proportions. People forgot he had actually been a quality boxer who'd knocked down champions. Eventually he joined the Black Muslims and changed his name to Curtis X. He became a leader in promoting racial hatred and violence--this only added to his rep.


I heard dozens of stories concerning Hatchetman's activities during this period, one detailing how he fought the entire "goon squad", a group made up of tough convicts, used by the guards to break down incorrigible inmates. Goon squad members were hated and looked down upon as snitches, and were housed away from the other prisoners. They received early releases and benefits for this kind of help, and they caused so many revenge murders that the use of such groups is no longer permitted. The squad was cut loose upon
Hatchetman one day to discipline him, and outnumbered 20 to 1, he fought them to a standstill. Finally he was tied down, drugged and given electronic shock treatments to keep him quiet.


"That was terrible son," Hatchetman said. "Just terrible.


Terrible days and bad memories. No way for men to treat each other."


Hatchetman did his time, and after twenty years was released into the streets. He took his prison reputation with him and became involved in many brutal activities. Disaster finally caught up to him one night when he beat a man over a gambling dispute. The man returned and shot Hatchetman in the head. Bleeding badly, Hatchetman nevertheless overpowered the man. He took away the gun and killed him. Hatchetman barely survived. After the incident he was charged and found guilty of second degree murder, receiving another twenty year sentence. Even today the bullet hole is visible in his skull and he has to take
constant medication to prevent seizures.


This brush with death brought Hatchetman to the brink of insanity. He admits to almost losing his grip, but like so many men of religious conviction he had a profound mystical experience that led him to devote his life to Jesus Christ. During this second prison experience, which started when the Hatchetman was in his fifties, he was a different man.


Hatchetman was sent to Pontiac Penitentiary in Illinois, and this time he was armed with his newfound faith. He became the head of boxing program, which produced the finest teams in the history of the Illinois prison system. His training program produced quite a few professionals, including "Jumbo" Cummings who fought Joe Frazier to a draw in Joe's last fight. But more significantly, Hatchetman coached hundreds of young men in the basics of boxing and training, and kept them away from the hellish temptations of prison life. Many, many men who were released from prison and became useful citizens will attest to this.


Hatchetman came to be a preacher of moral behaviour and tolerance, a voice of reason in an inferno of racial hatred. Many inmates were saved a terrible beating because of Hatchetman's intervention in the name of peace. It was a much different prison "bit" for Hatchetman this time, and things went well for a while. But eventually trouble found him again. Twice.


The first incident occurred after Hatchetman had become the head cook in the kitchen. He had to fight off gang leaders who wanted to steal a disproportionate number of hamburgers on hamburger day for their gang. (Hamburgers and chicken are like gold in prison chow halls.) Hatchetman informed them that they couldn't do that--if they did then other inmates would not get fed. As long as he was head cook each inmate would get his fair amount. He told them they could have the leftovers after everyone had been fed. Of course he was in the right, and one on one, man to man, he was a match
for any three of them, even at that age. They backed off. But later he was ambushed by "hit men" with knives who stuck him in the back several times. Once again bloody but unbowed, Hatchetman not only survived but gave chase, forcing the attackers to lock up for protection. They tried him, but nobody got those extra burgers. He still carries the scars from that attack.


The second incident was more tragic. A powerful inmate in his twenties, the enforcer for a black prison gang, was harassing a much smaller inmate for sexual favours. Hatchetman saw what was going on and asked him to please leave the smaller man alone. The enforcer, taking Hatchetman's plea as a disrespect for his position, cursed and threatened him. Before long, he began harassing Hatchetman and announcing that he was gonna kill him. Hatchetman did not start a fight, but took to carrying a homemade "ice pick" for self defence. One
day the enforcer got behind Hatchetman and hit him on the head, an almost killing blow with a lead pipe. The blow bashed in Hatchetman's skull, and with blood flowing like water, in a crazed rage, the Hatchetman wrestled down his attacker and killed him with his "ice pick", after saying that he was sending him "to hell, where he belongs." Surviving the crushed skull, which left a depression in his head that is still visible next to his earlier gunshot wound, Hatchetman was found guilty of first degree murder and placed on "death row".


Entering the hell of loneliness and darkness again, this time Hatchetman was sustained by his faith. After about a year, his prayers were answered by a white ex-inmate from Southern Illinois, who had turned over a new leaf upon release and become a expert paralegal--he was also a heavyweight who had been trained by Hatchetman during his prison time. The man recalled Hatchetman's many kindnesses and came to his rescue. After a lengthy appeals process, Hatchetman's conviction was overturned on the grounds of self-defence.


The Hatchetman had almost four years left on his sentence, but because the dead man had been a member of a large prison gang, it was unsafe for him to be in the State of Illinois correctional system. It was decided that for his own protection he would finish out his time in the Federal system, and this is where I got to know him.

When I arrived at Oxford, I was glad to finally get into the fresh air, but even a walk around the track tired me. I was in awful shape. Hatchetman became my trainer., and I found a friend about my age, a ex amateur fighter named Wali Ali, who had been a "Fruit of Islam" bodyguard of Muhammad Ali, who also wanted to get back in shape. We decided to be Hatchetman's boxing stable--we were called the "Over The Hill Gang" by the other inmates.


"Listen," said Hatchetman . "I'm from the old school, and if I'm the trainer we do it my way. I'm like Jack Blackburn or Doc Kearns. I'm the boss. What I say goes. I give the order and you do what I say. I don't want any backtalk. I want discipline and obedience. I'm doing this for you. Not for myself. You'll see the result. But no questions. Just action. First rule--always bring a
towel and a cap when I train you...."

Me and Wali started running on the track like "two old Kentucky mules," and were as slow as dripping honey. But one mile, became two, then three, and after a while we were doing five and finishing up with a sprint.

"C'mon, c'mon," cried Hatchetman as the ninety degree heat bore down on us and, tiring, we approached the final sprint. "Think about Rocky Marciano with a split nose! He never quit! Think of old man Archie Moore getting off the canvas! He never quit! Think of great fighters! Joe Louis! Billy Conn! Henry Armstrong!"


How the hell could we quit with him yelling that at us? No way.


Eventually we got to where we would carry a twenty-five pound weight up and down hills for a half hour. He pushed us just as hard in our other exercises--heavy bag, speed bag, jump rope, medicine ball and
calisthenics.


Ali and I started off splitting one round on the heavy bag. That was all we could manage, being so out of shape. But soon, with the Hatchetman pushing us, we would do a half-hour apiece with no problem, at top speed. The younger inmates were impressed.


One time Wali was on the heavy bag during a hot day, and was in the eighth round, struggling with the heat,


"I'm gettin" tired," he said, knowing that Hatchetman would disapprove of his talking, yet so exhausted the words just came out.


"You take that tired talk to almighty Allah or whatever you call God," said Hatchetman in a loud voice. "Complaints like that are His business. But I want ten rounds out of you! He can have the rest..."


All the inmates within listening distance turned around in shock. Ali just looked at me, shook his head, and kept punching.


That's the kind of trainer Hatchetman was. No nonsense, and a answer for everything.


Another thing about Hatchetman that commanded respect was that he would hit the bags and run, too. At this time he was about seventy-seven years old and about two hundred and twenty five pounds--he was amazing.


Among inmates there's a saying that "prison preserves you." Which is to say that the rest and natural discipline of prison life keeps you looking like you did when you came in, without much aging. I have to agree with that saying; I have seen many men in prison who look and act at least twenty years younger than their calendar age. But the Hatchetman, along with Sonny Franzeze, a Colombo family capo, who was also seventy-eight, with thirty years of prison under his belt...they were the most amazing physical specimens I ever saw.


Hatchetman's fists were so big, we had no bag gloves for him, so he taped his hands and wore big knitted mittens that he made himself. Then he would hit the heavy and speed bags for eight or ten rounds. Hard crunching punches, that popped with power, widening the eyes of any onlookers. His hands were so heavy, he would throw a sweeping punch in which the inside of his fist would strike the back of the bag and knock it sideways. This was an old tactic he had used to dismantle boxers.


"I'd do that to knock their equilibrium back," he said. It was a killer.


He'd do his exercises and roadwork with the same vigour. He was just an incredible genetic specimen. You couldn't help but love him and respond to his coaching, seeing how great he was at his age, and considering what he had been through.


I got in better and better shape, and after about a year and a half, Hatchetman took me to the prison law library.


"Rocky, now that you walk and look like a fighter again," he said. "I want you in this law library. I want you to research your case and start fighting this thing in the appeals courts. You have a life sentence and I want you to never give up the fight."


He then said a prayer.


"It don't hurt to have God help you, Rock," he said.


He was right.


My prison life became a tornado of training and studying the law.


I could go on and on talking about the good things Hatchetman did behind the walls of prison, but suffice it to say he was the voice of reason, common sense, and survival to many men at a time when they needed a friend the most. He had a knack for picking out inmates who seemed lost and helping them. Most importantly of all he steered people away from gangs and racial hatred.


"Son, I've been a gangster, a boxer, a bodyguard, a Black Muslim, a gang leader, and the most feared man on the block. I've been in the lonely pit of hell, locked in with the devil trying to take my soul. It was Jesus Christ that pulled me out. I've been through everything and only Jesus Christ is left as the answer. That I know. He saved me and He can save you..."


It was hard to not listen to this big black-skinned man with the massive shoulders, huge fists and gentle voice. He commanded your attention for he spoke from experience.


When he'd see black inmates, who were in the majority, talking racial hatred and planning violence against whites and others he'd say, "Don't tell me about slavery being a white and black thing only. If the truth is known, niggers sold niggers into slavery and made money from it. Judge a man for what he is, not his colour."


Hatchetman had a curious hobby for such a war-like man. He knitted. The big knit caps and gloves that he knitted were all over the prisons. The big knit caps that Archie Moore used to wear near the end of his life were gifts from the Hatchetman to his old nemesis in the ring.


"I gotta love Archie," he'd smile. "He always used to come to see me and support me in prison. Joey Maxim too. They are two real champs."


My favourite times with Hatchetman were when we'd discuss the old fighters and his fights. There weren't many in prison who knew his era and could talk about it, and he loved that I could. These were some of his comments.


"Walcott was the best," he said. "Jersey hit like a mule and he knew how to draw you in."


"Moore hit the hardest of anybody I fought. Either hand. He could drop a bomb on your head. Every round was tough. I only hit him twice and both times I floored him. I don't know how he got up. I hit him so hard I thought I killed him, but he just got up. Archie was strong."


"Maxim was strong. He had a very strong body. He could hold you in close. That was his thing. That's how he beat me the first time. The second time I nailed him early. After that I had to fight him twenty days later. He ran like a thief and I wore the cuffs. But give him credit. He was as good as any. After that knockout everyone ran from me."


"Melio Bettina was clever, rough, strong. I was tired from Lee Q. Murray. Fought him a month before. But Bettina was tough. Him and Moore would have been a good match."


"I fought Lee Q. Murray six times. He'd be a champ today. He would'a beat Riddick Bowe or Holyfield."


"Jimmy Bivins was all arms. He never tried to punch with me. He knew better. All arms and elbows. Good fighter."


We talked about them all Lloyd Marshall, Tony Musto, Willie Reddish, Nate Bolden.


"You were a sparring partner for Louis weren't you, Hatchetman?" I asked.


"Just for a second," he laughed. "Oh he hit so hard! He'd try to kill you. Nothing was worth that kind of money. He knocked out big Max Baer for damn sake! Knocking out Baer was like chopping a tree! Oh, Louis could hurt you! I got out of his camp quick."

Did he hit harder than Max Baer?

"Louis could hurt you, but Max Baer could kill you!" He laughed.

"After he killed fighters he held back. He became a clown. But his sparring partners told me he could kill you by accident. He could hit that hard. But Louis was the better fighter."

"What match would you have liked to have seen?"

"Tony Zale versus Ray Robinson," he said, with eyes far away in the
past. "Zale was so strong and tough, and Ray wouldn't have ran. That
would been some fight."

"Who was the best pound for pound?"

"Being from Pittsburgh," he said., "I knew how good Burley was, and
Billy Conn. Don't forget Zivic. He was a killer, but they kept the
cuffs on him. There was so many. But for some reason I think of Ezzard
Charles. Before he killed Baroudi he was beautiful. I was surprised
Marciano beat him like he did. I didn't think anyone his size could
beat him twice like that. That gives you an idea of how tough Marciano
was and how hard he hit. Marciano's secret was his ability to avoid
women and night life. He could keep coming and with that chin and
power, he couldn't be denied."

"How much did you weigh in your prime?" I asked.

"About 188," he said.

"How come so little?" I said. "You're a big guy. How come so
light."

"Back then heavyweights didn't carry no fat like now. They wanted
to be quick. Plus no one lifted weights. They slow you up. Louis,
Dempsey, Walcott all could have weighed two fifteen or twenty if they
wanted. Baer was a giant. But the thing was, no one carried fat weight
like today."

"Could the modern fighters have beaten the old timers?"

"No way. Ali couldn't have beaten Louis or Marciano. Even the
best of the modern guys like Monzon, Hagler, Foster, and Sugar Ray
Leonard. No way could they have dominated in my era. Duran is the best
of the moderns and even without the cuffs I don't know if he could have
beaten Ike Williams. Kids come up tougher back then. They were
hungry."

I noticed how much respect Hatchetman gave to the older Chicago and
New York mob guys who were locked up with us. It seemed he couldn't
break the habit of thinking they had big power, even in here. These
were very old guys from his era; they were fight fans and remembered the
Hatchetman. Watching ho when was around them gave me a picture of how
powerful the mob must have been in the fight game during his time.

We used to sit and talk boxing with the mob guys, and fixed fights
and "handcuffs" and so on were routinely discussed. They talked of
famous fights and famous fighters, too. Hatchetman never disagreed with
them. He'd only smile and nod, giving me the impression it was all the
truth.

"Handcuffs were for fighters not to lose too bad, but by a
decision, or to let someone go the distance," Hatchetman told me. "A
fixed knockout was for bigger money."

"Did you wear the cuffs?" I asked.

"Everyone wore the cuffs if you wanted to make money," he said.

"That's the business, Rock."

"Was Ali and Liston on the level?" I asked.

"C'mon, Rock," he said with a smile. " That one had the cuffs on
Sonny tighter than a noose. It's all over now. God's got a better plan
now for both of us."

About four days before Hatchetman was to be turned loose to the
world on parole for the first time in twenty years, I witnessed a final
moving scene.

One of my friends had sent me a copy of Bert Sugar's Boxing
Illustrated Magazine. It had a copy of a story by Herbert Goldman, a
boxing historian, called "The Hardest Punchers in Boxing History". As I
glanced over the article I couldn't believe what I was reading.
That same day I also got a package from a prince of a man named Sal
Rappa, another boxing historian from New York, who used to send us
boxing stories, opinions, and pictures, generously giving of his time to
lighten the burden of trapped men who loved boxing. Sal has written for
Ring Magazine, is a member of the legendary Ring #8 out of New York, and
is a beautiful man who I will never forget for caring enough about us as
men to respond to our questions. In this instance he sent us upon
request the complete boxing record of Curtis "the Hatchetman" Sheppard.
The timing of these two pieces of mail seemed to testify that somebody
up there was thinking about Hatchetman.

I ran to the prison gym where Hatchetman was surrounded by the
young guys he was coaching in boxing. I called him over, and the other
guys crowded around. I handed him his complete record and told him it
was from Sal. This touched him so deeply that he was silent. Then I
gave him the Goldman article to read. It had a list of the men he
considered the fifty hardest hitters of all time. Oh there were the
guys you expected. Wilde, Louis, Baer, Dempsey, Marciano, Liston,
Saddler, and other champions. But number fifteen....Number fifteen was
"Curtis 'Hatchetman' Sheppard". Hatchetman closed the book after seeing
his name, and a tear came down the face of this big, dark man who had
known so much pain.

When the day came for Hatchetman to leave, he was dressed in his
freshly ironed prison khakis and as excited as a little kid. He was
seventy-eight, but in shape like a person thirty years younger. With
everybody wishing him good luck, I just stood there happy for him.
Imagine, he was pushing eighty, and going to the world for the first
time in twenty years, yet he was excited like a kid. He kept talking
about a little "Fish Fry" place he was going to open up.

"What about money, Hatchetman?" someone asked.

"I don't worry bout money ," he said with a confident look. "I
made money, money didn't make me. I'll be okay."

Finally he came to me and hugged me and kissed me.

"I found the love of a father for a son in you, Rock," he said.

"If you didn't become a champion in the ring, still you can be in shape
like one. I expect you to keep in shape, keep training, and stay in
that law library and fight your case. My prayers are that you will
overturn your conviction and walk out in the health of a much younger
man. You will then beat them like I did. I'll pray for you, and God is
with you."

He had tears in his eyes and so did I.

He left and it felt like half the prison left with him, so empty
did it seem. I was blessed to have known him. I kept my word to him
and stayed in shape and in the law library fighting my case. Some few
years later I overturned my conviction and walked out of Federal prison
a free man in strong physical condition, through my own efforts in the
law library and prison gym, and the prayers of a old heavyweight
fighter.

Every once in a while I'll see Curtis' name mentioned with the
black "Murderers Row" of fighters of that era that never got a chance at
the title: Burley, Lytell, Marshall, Bivins, Williams, and others. But
I know that the Hatchetman was a champ in the real life, and after all
that's where it counts.










--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Danny . . . I didn't just like this story, I loved it. Rocky takes readers right into the joint.
The story is special. Nice little gift for those here who haven't yet read it.

-Rick

15,000 replies and over an eighth of a million views/readings from those of us who sign on. I'm guessing it's probably more than that if you counted those who read it who don't sign in, whose views don't get counted (I think)..... anyway about 300 of those views are mine since I check in and read this ongoing journal just about everyday. I continue to get a kick out of this thread and it's obvious that I'm not alone in my assessment. Thanks to all the core contributors for continuing this conversation in this "front lobby" where we all can "listen in".

Bobbin & Weavin wrote:

kikibalt wrote:TOM “THE BOMB” BETHEA
By Jim Amato

Although he won only one more fight then he lost in his career Tom “The Bomb” Bethea was once ranked among the world’s leading middleweights and light heavyweights. Bethea turned pro in 1967 and won nine of his first eleven bouts. He then suffered a KO loss to Leon Washington. Tom Bethea was always matched tough throughout his career. He next lost decisions to future middleweight king Carlos Monzon and former welterweight champ Luis Rodriguez.

On March 13, 1970 Bethea was paired up with reigning middleweight titleholder Nino Benvenuti in a non-title fight. The battle took place in Australia. Whether Nino was in top shape is debatable. The fact is that Bethea dished out quite a body beating to Benvenuti forcing Nino to quit. It was a stunning upset and a rematch with the title on the line was immediate. This time Nino boxed smartly and was well ahead when he halted Bethea in the eighth round.

From this point on Bethea lost as many as he would win but he faced nothing but first-rate opposition. He lost to Bennie Briscoe, Jean Claude Bouttier, Billy Douglas and Ralph Palladin. Bethea then moved up to light heavyweight. He suffered defeats at the hands of Bobby Cassidy and Eddie “Bossman” Jones but he did beat the highly regarded Lonnie Bennett. In a ten fight streak between 1974 - 1976 Tom went 8-0-2. He bested Domenico Adinolfi, Tom Bogs and Douglas in a return. Bethea was now ranked among the worlds best at 175 pounds. Then came a close decision loss to Mike Quarry. Losses to Marvin Johnson, Michael Spinks and Marvin Camel would follow before Tom retired.

Although his 46 bout record stands at 22-21-3, this is clearly not reflective of the quality opponents he faced. Bethea met six world champions and eight others who attempted to win a title in his very respectable career.

Little known fact; Randy was in a televised match on the under card of the Bethea Vs. Quarry fight.
Bruce

Wonder if it's available?

kikibalt wrote:

The above photo shows Lionel Rose winning a ten-round decision over Jose Medel in a non-title fight at the Forum. It was the second boxing promotion for George Parnassus at the Fabulous Forum, which had just opened it's doors as L.A.'s premier indoor sports venue several months earlier. The Rose-Castillo bout would end in a riot.

-Rick Farris

raylawpc wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

Was Eddie Futch a neighbor of yours, Frank?

Yes, he lived less then a mile from me, we used to run into each other all the time around town.

Rick Farris wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

These were L.A. boxing personalities that passed in 1994. Here is some irony. About a year before this was printed, I heard John Cabrera tell somebody that Frank Baltazar Sr. had passed away. A year later Cabrera was gone, fifteen years later our Frankie is still going strong!

-Rick Farris

Rick...when the rumor about me dying was going around the SoCal boxing community people started calling the house for info, services, etc, Dub Huntey called, Connie answered the phone and Dub asked for me and Connie told him that I was asleep, he said Okay I'll call later, then he started calling everybody he could to tell'em "The S-B ain't dead, he just asleep", he late told me this. He too told me that when he called and Connie answered he couldn't get himself to asked about services so he just asked for me.
Before the news got out that I was still very much alive, I called Johnny Cabrera, when he answered the phone and heard my voice, he asked me "Frank where're you calling me from?"...

YOUNGSTOWN PRIDE: TONY JANIRO
By Jim Amato


With Youngstown’s Kelly Pavik set to defend his middleweight title Saturday night in his hometown. I thought I’d mention another great Youngstown middleweight from days gone by.

Tony Janiro…

This article was a long time coming. Over the years through my friends in the Youngstown area I have learned a lot about the rich boxing history in that region. I was familiar with Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini but I knew little about his dad Lenny Mancini who passed on the “Boom Boom” moniker to his son. I knew about hard hitting Harry Arroyo and the murderous body punching of Jeff Lampkin. I was even able to witness live the tremendous boxing talent of Greg Richardson.

Through my friends I became aware of very special fighters of yesteryear like Tommy Bell, Red D’Amato and Sonny Horne. So many more that I could mention. One fighter I heard quite a bit about was a smooth boxing contender who as they say, “put Asses in the seats”. He fought in an era when a multitude of rugged contenders roamed the ratings. He met the best of them and had quite a career. His name was Tony Janiro.

Janiro turned professional in 1943 at the tender age of 16. He won his first 23 bouts until meeting defeat against tough Al Guido. Tony then went on a 16-fight win streak including a rematch victory over Guido. In 1945 he lost two out of three verdicts to popular Canadian Johnny Greco. Still Janiro was winning more the he lost as he climbed in the ratings. In 1947 he scored a big decision win over Tony Pellone. Janiro then notched one of his best wins when he halted the great Beau Jack in four.

A few months later Jake LaMotta proved too strong for Tony and won the decision. The year 1948 was a rough one as Tony lost to Laverne Roach and a return with Beau Jack. He also drew with Lou Valles. In 1949 he lost to Henry Hall and then he was defeated by one of the best middleweights in the world, Rocky Castellani. The resiliant Janiro bounced back with a win over clever Charley Fusari. Tony then drew with the “Rock” himself, Rocky Graziano. Tony lost a return to Graziano and later lost to the marvelous Kid Gavilan.

Tony continued to meet top shelf opposition in 1951. He lost to Fritzie Pruden but defeated Fusari again. He then lost to the always-troublesome Laurent Dauthuille. Then came a controversial KO loss in the tenth round of his third meeting with Graziano. Tony was then stopped in a return match with Gavilan. Tony’s career ended in 1952 with a knockout loss to Charles Humez.

Tony Janiro won 80 of 97 fights. He met four world champions and three others who challenged for a crown. That’s not to mention the several top contenders he tangled with.Tony Janiro surely added to the great pride and lore of boxing in Youngstown and it’s surrounding area.

For those who live in Youngstown, Ohio in an unusual move, Top Rank will open the final press conference to the public. Doors at the Chevrolet Center will open to the public at 11AM with the news conference beginning at noon. Pavlik, Rubio and Hall of Fame promoter Bob Arum will be on hand. There is no charge for entry. Pavlik and Rubio collide Saturday on pay-per-view.

Bobbin & Weavin wrote:

kikibalt wrote:TOM “THE BOMB” BETHEA
By Jim Amato

Although he won only one more fight then he lost in his career Tom “The Bomb” Bethea was once ranked among the world’s leading middleweights and light heavyweights. Bethea turned pro in 1967 and won nine of his first eleven bouts. He then suffered a KO loss to Leon Washington. Tom Bethea was always matched tough throughout his career. He next lost decisions to future middleweight king Carlos Monzon and former welterweight champ Luis Rodriguez.

On March 13, 1970 Bethea was paired up with reigning middleweight titleholder Nino Benvenuti in a non-title fight. The battle took place in Australia. Whether Nino was in top shape is debatable. The fact is that Bethea dished out quite a body beating to Benvenuti forcing Nino to quit. It was a stunning upset and a rematch with the title on the line was immediate. This time Nino boxed smartly and was well ahead when he halted Bethea in the eighth round.

From this point on Bethea lost as many as he would win but he faced nothing but first-rate opposition. He lost to Bennie Briscoe, Jean Claude Bouttier, Billy Douglas and Ralph Palladin. Bethea then moved up to light heavyweight. He suffered defeats at the hands of Bobby Cassidy and Eddie “Bossman” Jones but he did beat the highly regarded Lonnie Bennett. In a ten fight streak between 1974 - 1976 Tom went 8-0-2. He bested Domenico Adinolfi, Tom Bogs and Douglas in a return. Bethea was now ranked among the worlds best at 175 pounds. Then came a close decision loss to Mike Quarry. Losses to Marvin Johnson, Michael Spinks and Marvin Camel would follow before Tom retired.

Although his 46 bout record stands at 22-21-3, this is clearly not reflective of the quality opponents he faced. Bethea met six world champions and eight others who attempted to win a title in his very respectable career.

Little known fact; Randy was in a televised match on the under card of the Bethea Vs. Quarry fight.
Bruce

I would love to see Randys fight on the undercard that night.
I believe that it was shown on Wide World of Sports.
What an honor.Randy deserved it .The mans got heart.

Rick, do you remember Victor De La Cruz from the Santa Barbara area?

Victor de la Cruz

Country USA
Global Id 64460
Division Lightweight


Career Record © http://www.boxrec.com

Date Opponent Location Result
1978-07-13 Reynaldo Zaragoza Vallejo, USA L KO 2
1977-05-20 Rogelio Castaneda San Diego, USA L KO 4
1976-11-06 Jose Talamantez San Francisco, USA L KO 8
1976-06-09 Harvey Arnold Incline Village, USA L TKO 7
1976-05-03 Bonnie Necessario Stockton, USA W KO 8
1976-03-06 Freddy Mason Accra, Ghana L TKO 4
1975-11-19 Basilio Onate San Diego, USA L PTS 6
1975-10-20 Al Ford Edmonton, Canada L PTS 10
1975-06-17 Maurice Watkins San Jose, USA L UD 10
1975-05-08 Bobby Larsen Los Angeles, USA D PTS 6
1975-04-17 Arturo Frias Los Angeles, USA L PTS 6
1975-04-11 Basilio Onate San Diego, USA W PTS 5
1975-03-27 Bobby Larsen Los Angeles, USA D PTS 6
1975-01-31 Javier Muniz San Diego, USA L KO 4
1975-01-23 Guillermo Gonzalez San Diego, USA W KO 1
1975-01-17 Tommy Nava San Diego, USA W KO 2
1974-12-13 Pedro Hernandez San Diego, USA W PTS 4
1974-12-06 Pedro Hernandez San Diego, USA W PTS 4
1974-10-10 Carlos Barragan Vasquez Los Angeles, USA L KO 5
1974-10-03 Armando Cordova Los Angeles, USA D PTS 6
1974-09-21 Luis Ocampo Santa Maria, USA W PTS 5
1974-08-27 Carmelo Cruz Santa Maria, USA D PTS 5

Record to Date
Won 7 (KOs 3) Lost 11 Drawn 4 Total 22

kikibalt wrote:YOUNGSTOWN PRIDE: TONY JANIRO
By Jim Amato


With Youngstown’s Kelly Pavik set to defend his middleweight title Saturday night in his hometown. I thought I’d mention another great Youngstown middleweight from days gone by.

Tony Janiro…

This article was a long time coming. Over the years through my friends in the Youngstown area I have learned a lot about the rich boxing history in that region. I was familiar with Ray “Boom Boom” Mancini but I knew little about his dad Lenny Mancini who passed on the “Boom Boom” moniker to his son. I knew about hard hitting Harry Arroyo and the murderous body punching of Jeff Lampkin. I was even able to witness live the tremendous boxing talent of Greg Richardson.

Through my friends I became aware of very special fighters of yesteryear like Tommy Bell, Red D’Amato and Sonny Horne. So many more that I could mention. One fighter I heard quite a bit about was a smooth boxing contender who as they say, “put Asses in the seats”. He fought in an era when a multitude of rugged contenders roamed the ratings. He met the best of them and had quite a career. His name was Tony Janiro.

Janiro turned professional in 1943 at the tender age of 16. He won his first 23 bouts until meeting defeat against tough Al Guido. Tony then went on a 16-fight win streak including a rematch victory over Guido. In 1945 he lost two out of three verdicts to popular Canadian Johnny Greco. Still Janiro was winning more the he lost as he climbed in the ratings. In 1947 he scored a big decision win over Tony Pellone. Janiro then notched one of his best wins when he halted the great Beau Jack in four.

A few months later Jake LaMotta proved too strong for Tony and won the decision. The year 1948 was a rough one as Tony lost to Laverne Roach and a return with Beau Jack. He also drew with Lou Valles. In 1949 he lost to Henry Hall and then he was defeated by one of the best middleweights in the world, Rocky Castellani. The resiliant Janiro bounced back with a win over clever Charley Fusari. Tony then drew with the “Rock” himself, Rocky Graziano. Tony lost a return to Graziano and later lost to the marvelous Kid Gavilan.

Tony continued to meet top shelf opposition in 1951. He lost to Fritzie Pruden but defeated Fusari again. He then lost to the always-troublesome Laurent Dauthuille. Then came a controversial KO loss in the tenth round of his third meeting with Graziano. Tony was then stopped in a return match with Gavilan. Tony’s career ended in 1952 with a knockout loss to Charles Humez.

Tony Janiro won 80 of 97 fights. He met four world champions and three others who challenged for a crown. That’s not to mention the several top contenders he tangled with.Tony Janiro surely added to the great pride and lore of boxing in Youngstown and it’s surrounding area.

For those who live in Youngstown, Ohio in an unusual move, Top Rank will open the final press conference to the public. Doors at the Chevrolet Center will open to the public at 11AM with the news conference beginning at noon. Pavlik, Rubio and Hall of Fame promoter Bob Arum will be on hand. There is no charge for entry. Pavlik and Rubio collide Saturday on pay-per-view.

I was never thrilled with the way Tony Janiros fight with Jake Lamotta was portrayed in "Raging Bull".
They had Jake destroying the kid.
My thoughts are that it was more competitive than that.
This article mentions Jeff Lampkin.I fought on the same card with him.That guy could bang.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-6MdF9YFrg
Bob Foster vs Frank De Paula...Leon Spinks vs Gerrie Coetzee