Classic American West Coast Boxing
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Shirley Bassey . . .
Monica and I are listening to her this morning.
Love her voice, I remember when she did the title song for the James Bond flick, "Goldfinger"in the md-60's.
Don't know why I'm posting this here, but that's what I'm hearing at the moment, and I know you guys appreciate great music.
James Bond, the most successful franchise in motion picture history.
Shirley Bassey sang the title theme for three Bond movies.
-Rick Farris
Monica and I are listening to her this morning.
Love her voice, I remember when she did the title song for the James Bond flick, "Goldfinger"in the md-60's.
Don't know why I'm posting this here, but that's what I'm hearing at the moment, and I know you guys appreciate great music.
James Bond, the most successful franchise in motion picture history.
Shirley Bassey sang the title theme for three Bond movies.
-Rick Farris
Last edited by Rick Farris on 17 Apr 2009, 12:00, edited 1 time in total.
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
I corrected my mistake on the original post. Even more impressive!kikibalt wrote:Rick...Fukuyama fought Frankie one fight before he fought O'Grady.Rick Farris wrote:This guy was one of the best Japanese boxers to fight in L.A.kikibalt wrote:Frankie's 'ol foe, Frankie ko Fukuyama in 4 rounds.
Shig Fukuyama
He caught Danny Lopez on a bad night and handed him his second loss.
A few years later he almost upset Sean O'Grady, as well.
Had that fight been held anywhere but Oklahoma, Sean would have been stopped on a cut.
Then he fought Frankie Baltazar, and his luck was over.
-Rick Farris
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Last edited by kikibalt on 17 Apr 2009, 17:05, edited 1 time in total.
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Gracias, Kiki.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Here is a pretty good article on Sean O'Grady after the WBA stripped him of the title.
http://vault.sportsillustrated.cnn.com/ ... /index.htm
I had forgotten that SI even did this article.
http://vault.sportsillustrated.cnn.com/ ... /index.htm
I had forgotten that SI even did this article.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Thanks, Tom, for posting that article, never read it before.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing

Tote Martinez
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Interesting scrapper in his prime. We booked him at Hollywood several times, but one of the unsual points in his career was a series of three bouts he had against Honolulu's Chico Rosa. The two fought each other three times in a period of 30 days back in the 1950s, and at three different California cities, Stockton, Sacramento and Eureka. Tote got two wins; Rosa one. Martinez was a member of Sid Flaherty's large stable of fighters.kikibalt wrote:
Tote Martinez
hap navarro
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Rocker Mellencamp’s son wins Indiana Golden Gloves
INDIANAPOLIS (AP)—The 14-year-old son of rock singer John Mellencamp has won a division title in the Indiana Golden Gloves boxing tournament.
Hud Mellencamp, who boxes for the Indy Police Athletic League, earned a 4-1 decision over Cody Bennett of the Southpaw Boxing Club of Owensboro, Ky., in a 132-pound senior-division bout Thursday night.
Nine other open-division winners will represent Indiana in the national Golden Gloves tournament May 4-10 in Salt Lake City.
Mellencamp earned a trophy and a hug from his father, who attended the fight at Tyndall Armory.
Isn't 14 year old young to be going to the national's?, or am I misreading the article
INDIANAPOLIS (AP)—The 14-year-old son of rock singer John Mellencamp has won a division title in the Indiana Golden Gloves boxing tournament.
Hud Mellencamp, who boxes for the Indy Police Athletic League, earned a 4-1 decision over Cody Bennett of the Southpaw Boxing Club of Owensboro, Ky., in a 132-pound senior-division bout Thursday night.
Nine other open-division winners will represent Indiana in the national Golden Gloves tournament May 4-10 in Salt Lake City.
Mellencamp earned a trophy and a hug from his father, who attended the fight at Tyndall Armory.
Isn't 14 year old young to be going to the national's?, or am I misreading the article
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing

Born on June 18, 1928 in Denver, CO, was 76 years old at the time of his death in Denver, CO, USA.
Won the National Amateur Athletic Union Bantamweight Title in 1946.
After his boxing days, Corky Gonzales went on to become an important leader in the Chicano Movement. In 1965, he wrote I Am Joaquin, a popular poem about a Mexican-American character's struggle in regards to forgetting his or her roots in order to get economic stability in the United States.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
I AM JOAQUIN
I am Joaquin, ,
Lost in a world of confusion,
Caught up in a whirl of a
gringo society,
Confused by the rules,
Scorned by attitudes,
Suppressed by manipulations,
And destroyed by modern society.
My fathers
have lost the economic battle
and won
the struggle of cultural survival.
And now!
I must choose
Between
the paradox of
Victory of the spirit,
despite physical hunger
Or
to exist in the grasp
of American social neurosis,
sterilization of the soul
and a full stomach.
Yes,
I have come a long way to nowhere,
Unwillingly dragged by that
monstrous, technical
industrial giant called
Progress
and Anglo success…
I look at myself.
I watch my brothers.
I shed tears of sorrow.
I sow seeds of hate.
I withdraw to the safety within the
Circle of life . . .
MY OWN PEOPLE
I am Cuauhtemoc,
Proud and Noble
Leader of men,
King of an empire,
civilized beyond the dreams
of the Gachupin Cortez,
Who also is the blood,
the image of myself.
I am the Maya Prince.
I am Netzahualcoyotl,
Great leader of the Chichimecas.
I am the sword and flame of Cortez
the despot.
And
I am the Eagle and Serpent of
the Aztec civilization.
I owned the land as far as the eye
could see under the crown of Spain,
and I toiled on my earth and gave my Indian sweat and blood
for the Spanish master,
Who ruled with tyranny over man and
beast and all that he could trample
But . . .
THE GROUND WAS MINE.
I was both tyrant and slave.
As Christian church took its place
in God's good name,
to take and use my Virgin strength and
Trusting faith,
The priests
both good and bad,
took
But
gave a lasting truth that
Spaniard,
Indian,
Mestizo
Were all God's children
And
from these words grew men
who prayed and fought
for
their own worth as human beings,
for
that
GOLDEN MOMENT
Of
FREEDOM.
I was part in blood and spirit
of that
courageous village priest
Hidalgo
in the year eighteen hundred and ten
who rang the bell of independence
and gave out that lasting cry:
"El Grito de Dolores, Que mueran
los Gachupines y que viva
la Virgin de Guadalupe"
I sentenced him who was me.
I excommunicated him my blood.
I drove him from the Pulpit to lead a bloody revolution for him and me I killed him.
His head, which is mine and all of those who have conic this way,
I placed on that fortress wall to wall for Independence.
Morelos!
Matamoros!
Guerrero!
All Compañeros in the act,
STOOD AGAINST THAT WALL OF INFAMY
to feel the hot gouge of lead which my hands made.
I died with them . . .
I lived with them
I lived to see our country free.
Free from Spanish rule in eighteen -hundred- twenty-one.
Mexico was Free
The crown was gone but
all his parasites remained
and ruled and taught
with gun and flame and mystic power.
I worked,
I sweated,
I bled,
I prayed
and
waited silently for life to again commence.
I fought and died for
Don Benito Juarez
Guardian of the Constitution.
I was him on clusty roads on barren land
as he protected his archives as Moses did his sacraments.
He held his Mexico
in his hand
on
the most desolate
and remote ground
which was his country
And this Giant
Little Zapotec
gave
not one palm's breadth
of his country's land to
Kings or Monarchs or Presidents
of foreign powers.
I am Joaquin. I rode with Pancho Villa, crude and warm. A tornado at full strength, nourished and inspired
by the passion and the fire of all his earth, people. I am Emillano Zapata.
"This Land
This Earth
Is
OURS"
The Villages
The Mountains
The Streams
belong to Zapatistas.
Our life
Or yours
is the only trade for soft brown earth
.and maiz.
All of which is our reward,
A creed that formed a constitution for all who dare live free!
"This land is ours . . . Father, I give it back to you.
Mexico must be free . . .'
I ride with Revolutionists
against myself.
I am Rural
Course and brutal,
I am the mountain Indian, superior over all.
The thundering hoof beats are my horses.
The chattering of machine guns'
are death to all of me:
Yaqui
Tarahumara
Chamula
Zapotec
Mestizo
Español
I have been the Bloody Revolution,
The Victor,
The Vanquished,
I have killed
and been killed.
I am despots Diaz
and Huerta
and the apostle of democracy
Francisco Madero.
I am the black shawled
faithful women
who die with me
or live depending on the time and place.
I am
faithful,
humble,
Juan Diego,
the Virgen de Guadalupe,
Tonatzin, Aztec Goddess too.
I rode the mountains of San Joaquin. I rode as far East and North as the Rocky Mountains
and
all men feared the guns of
Joaquin Murrietta.
I killed those men who dared
to steal my mine,
who raped and Killed
my Love
my Wife
Then
I Killed to stay alive.
I was Alfego. Baca,
living my nine lives fully.
I was the Espinoza brothers
of the Valle de San Luis.
All,
were added to the number of heads
that
in the name of civilization
were placed on the wall of independence.
Heads of brave men
who died for cause or principle.
Good or Bad.
Hidalgo! Zapata!
Murrietta! Espinozas!
are but a few. They dared to face The force of
tyranny of men who rule
By farce and hypocrisy
I stand here looking back, and now I see the present
and still
I arn the campesino
I am the fat political coyote
I, of the same name,
Joaquin.
In a country that has wiped out AI my history, stiffled all my pride.
In a country that has placed a different weight of indignity upon my age old
burdened back.
Inferiority
is the new load . . .
The Indian has endured and still
emerged the winner,
The Mestizo must yet overcome,
And the Gachupin will just ignore.
I look at myself
and see part of me
who rejects my father and my mother
and dissolves into the melting pot
to disappear in shame.
I sometimes
sell my brother out
and reclaim him
for my own when society, gives me
token leadership
in society's own name.
I am Joaquin, who bleeds in many ways. The altars of Moctezuma
I stained a bloody red.
My back of Indian Slavery
was stripped crimson from the whips of masters who would lose their blood so pure when
Revolution made them pay Standing against the walls of Retribution,
Blood . . .
Has flowed from
me on every battlefield
between Campesino, Hacendado Slave and Master and
Revolution.
I jumped from the tower of Chapultepec into the sea of fame;
My country's flag my burial shroud;
With Los Niños, whose pride and courage
could not surrender with indignity their country's flag . . . in their land.
To strangers
Now
I bleed in some smelly cell
from club.
or gun.
or tyranny.
I bleed as the vicious gloves of hunger
cut my face and eyes,
as I fight my way from stinking Barrios
to the glamour of the Ring
and lights of fame
or mutilated sorrow.
My blood runs pure on the ice caked
hills of the Alaskan Isles,
on the corpse strewn beach of Normandy,
the foreign land of Korea
and now
Viet Nam.
Here I stand
before the Court of justice Guilty for all the glory of my Raza to be sentenced to despair.
Here I stand Poor in money Arrogant with pride
Bold with Machismo
Rich in courage and
Wealthy in spirit and faith
My knees are caked with mud. My hands calloused from the hoe.
I have made the Anglo rich yet
Equality is but a word, the Treaty of Hidalgo has been broken
and is but another treacherous promise.
My land is lost
and stolen,
My culture has been raped,
lengthen
the line at the welfare door and fill the jails with crime.
These then are the rewards this society has
For sons of Chiefs
and Kings and bloody Revolutionists.
Who gave a foreign people all their skills and ingenuity
to pave the way with Brains and Blood
for
those hordes of Gold starved
Strangers
Who changed our language and plagiarized our deeds
as feats of valor of their own. They frowned upon our way of life
and took what they could use.
Our Art
Our Literature
Our music, they ignored so they left the real things of value and grabbed at their own destruction by their
Greed and Avarice
They overlooked that cleansing fountain of
nature and brotherhood
Which is Joaquin.
The art of our great señors
Diego Rivera
Siqueiros
Orozco is but
another act of revolution for the Salvation of mankind. Mariachi music, the heart and soul of the people of the earth, the life of child, and the happiness of love
The Corridos tell the tales of life and death, of tradition, Legends old and new, of Joy of passion and sorrow of the people: who I am.
I am in the eyes of woman, sheltered beneath
her shawl of black, deep and sorrowful eyes,
That bear the pain of sons long buried or dying,
Dead
on the battlefield or on the barbwire of social strife.
Her rosary she prays and fingers
endlessly like the family working down a row of beets to turn around and work and work There is no end. Her eyes a mirror of all the warmth and all the love for me, And I am her And she is me. We face life together in sorrow. anger, joy faith and wishful thoughts.
I shed tears of anguish as I see my children disappear behind the shroud of mediocrity never to look back to remember me. I am Joaquin.
I must fight And win this struggle for my sons, and they must know from me Who I am. Part of the blood that runs deep in me Could not be vanquished by the Moors I defeated them after five hundred years, and I endured. The part of blood that is mine has labored endlessly five-hundred years under the heel of lustful Europeans
I am still here!
I have endured in the rugged mountains
of our country
I have survived the toils and slavery,
of the fields.
I have existed
in the barrios of the city,
in the suburbs of bigotry,
in the mines of social snobbery,
in the prisons of dejection,
in the muck of exploitation
and
in the fierce heat of racial hatred.
And now the trumpet sounds,
The music of the people stirs the
Revolution,
Like a sleeping giant it slowly rears its head
to the sound of
Tramping feet
Clamouring voices
Marlachi strains
Fiery tequila explosions
The smell of chile verde and
Soft brown eyes of expectation for a
better life
And in all the fertile farm lands,
the barren plains,
the mountain villages,
smoke smeared cities
We start to MOVE.
La Raza! Mejicano!
Español!
Latino!
Hispano!
Chicano!
or whatever I call myself,
I look the same
I feel the same
I cry
and
Sing the same
I am the masses of my people and I refuse to be absorbed.
I am Joaquin
The odds are great but my spirit is strong
My faith unbreakable
My blood is pure
I am Aztec Prince and Christian Christ
I SHALL ENDURE!
I WILL ENDURE!
I am Joaquin, ,
Lost in a world of confusion,
Caught up in a whirl of a
gringo society,
Confused by the rules,
Scorned by attitudes,
Suppressed by manipulations,
And destroyed by modern society.
My fathers
have lost the economic battle
and won
the struggle of cultural survival.
And now!
I must choose
Between
the paradox of
Victory of the spirit,
despite physical hunger
Or
to exist in the grasp
of American social neurosis,
sterilization of the soul
and a full stomach.
Yes,
I have come a long way to nowhere,
Unwillingly dragged by that
monstrous, technical
industrial giant called
Progress
and Anglo success…
I look at myself.
I watch my brothers.
I shed tears of sorrow.
I sow seeds of hate.
I withdraw to the safety within the
Circle of life . . .
MY OWN PEOPLE
I am Cuauhtemoc,
Proud and Noble
Leader of men,
King of an empire,
civilized beyond the dreams
of the Gachupin Cortez,
Who also is the blood,
the image of myself.
I am the Maya Prince.
I am Netzahualcoyotl,
Great leader of the Chichimecas.
I am the sword and flame of Cortez
the despot.
And
I am the Eagle and Serpent of
the Aztec civilization.
I owned the land as far as the eye
could see under the crown of Spain,
and I toiled on my earth and gave my Indian sweat and blood
for the Spanish master,
Who ruled with tyranny over man and
beast and all that he could trample
But . . .
THE GROUND WAS MINE.
I was both tyrant and slave.
As Christian church took its place
in God's good name,
to take and use my Virgin strength and
Trusting faith,
The priests
both good and bad,
took
But
gave a lasting truth that
Spaniard,
Indian,
Mestizo
Were all God's children
And
from these words grew men
who prayed and fought
for
their own worth as human beings,
for
that
GOLDEN MOMENT
Of
FREEDOM.
I was part in blood and spirit
of that
courageous village priest
Hidalgo
in the year eighteen hundred and ten
who rang the bell of independence
and gave out that lasting cry:
"El Grito de Dolores, Que mueran
los Gachupines y que viva
la Virgin de Guadalupe"
I sentenced him who was me.
I excommunicated him my blood.
I drove him from the Pulpit to lead a bloody revolution for him and me I killed him.
His head, which is mine and all of those who have conic this way,
I placed on that fortress wall to wall for Independence.
Morelos!
Matamoros!
Guerrero!
All Compañeros in the act,
STOOD AGAINST THAT WALL OF INFAMY
to feel the hot gouge of lead which my hands made.
I died with them . . .
I lived with them
I lived to see our country free.
Free from Spanish rule in eighteen -hundred- twenty-one.
Mexico was Free
The crown was gone but
all his parasites remained
and ruled and taught
with gun and flame and mystic power.
I worked,
I sweated,
I bled,
I prayed
and
waited silently for life to again commence.
I fought and died for
Don Benito Juarez
Guardian of the Constitution.
I was him on clusty roads on barren land
as he protected his archives as Moses did his sacraments.
He held his Mexico
in his hand
on
the most desolate
and remote ground
which was his country
And this Giant
Little Zapotec
gave
not one palm's breadth
of his country's land to
Kings or Monarchs or Presidents
of foreign powers.
I am Joaquin. I rode with Pancho Villa, crude and warm. A tornado at full strength, nourished and inspired
by the passion and the fire of all his earth, people. I am Emillano Zapata.
"This Land
This Earth
Is
OURS"
The Villages
The Mountains
The Streams
belong to Zapatistas.
Our life
Or yours
is the only trade for soft brown earth
.and maiz.
All of which is our reward,
A creed that formed a constitution for all who dare live free!
"This land is ours . . . Father, I give it back to you.
Mexico must be free . . .'
I ride with Revolutionists
against myself.
I am Rural
Course and brutal,
I am the mountain Indian, superior over all.
The thundering hoof beats are my horses.
The chattering of machine guns'
are death to all of me:
Yaqui
Tarahumara
Chamula
Zapotec
Mestizo
Español
I have been the Bloody Revolution,
The Victor,
The Vanquished,
I have killed
and been killed.
I am despots Diaz
and Huerta
and the apostle of democracy
Francisco Madero.
I am the black shawled
faithful women
who die with me
or live depending on the time and place.
I am
faithful,
humble,
Juan Diego,
the Virgen de Guadalupe,
Tonatzin, Aztec Goddess too.
I rode the mountains of San Joaquin. I rode as far East and North as the Rocky Mountains
and
all men feared the guns of
Joaquin Murrietta.
I killed those men who dared
to steal my mine,
who raped and Killed
my Love
my Wife
Then
I Killed to stay alive.
I was Alfego. Baca,
living my nine lives fully.
I was the Espinoza brothers
of the Valle de San Luis.
All,
were added to the number of heads
that
in the name of civilization
were placed on the wall of independence.
Heads of brave men
who died for cause or principle.
Good or Bad.
Hidalgo! Zapata!
Murrietta! Espinozas!
are but a few. They dared to face The force of
tyranny of men who rule
By farce and hypocrisy
I stand here looking back, and now I see the present
and still
I arn the campesino
I am the fat political coyote
I, of the same name,
Joaquin.
In a country that has wiped out AI my history, stiffled all my pride.
In a country that has placed a different weight of indignity upon my age old
burdened back.
Inferiority
is the new load . . .
The Indian has endured and still
emerged the winner,
The Mestizo must yet overcome,
And the Gachupin will just ignore.
I look at myself
and see part of me
who rejects my father and my mother
and dissolves into the melting pot
to disappear in shame.
I sometimes
sell my brother out
and reclaim him
for my own when society, gives me
token leadership
in society's own name.
I am Joaquin, who bleeds in many ways. The altars of Moctezuma
I stained a bloody red.
My back of Indian Slavery
was stripped crimson from the whips of masters who would lose their blood so pure when
Revolution made them pay Standing against the walls of Retribution,
Blood . . .
Has flowed from
me on every battlefield
between Campesino, Hacendado Slave and Master and
Revolution.
I jumped from the tower of Chapultepec into the sea of fame;
My country's flag my burial shroud;
With Los Niños, whose pride and courage
could not surrender with indignity their country's flag . . . in their land.
To strangers
Now
I bleed in some smelly cell
from club.
or gun.
or tyranny.
I bleed as the vicious gloves of hunger
cut my face and eyes,
as I fight my way from stinking Barrios
to the glamour of the Ring
and lights of fame
or mutilated sorrow.
My blood runs pure on the ice caked
hills of the Alaskan Isles,
on the corpse strewn beach of Normandy,
the foreign land of Korea
and now
Viet Nam.
Here I stand
before the Court of justice Guilty for all the glory of my Raza to be sentenced to despair.
Here I stand Poor in money Arrogant with pride
Bold with Machismo
Rich in courage and
Wealthy in spirit and faith
My knees are caked with mud. My hands calloused from the hoe.
I have made the Anglo rich yet
Equality is but a word, the Treaty of Hidalgo has been broken
and is but another treacherous promise.
My land is lost
and stolen,
My culture has been raped,
lengthen
the line at the welfare door and fill the jails with crime.
These then are the rewards this society has
For sons of Chiefs
and Kings and bloody Revolutionists.
Who gave a foreign people all their skills and ingenuity
to pave the way with Brains and Blood
for
those hordes of Gold starved
Strangers
Who changed our language and plagiarized our deeds
as feats of valor of their own. They frowned upon our way of life
and took what they could use.
Our Art
Our Literature
Our music, they ignored so they left the real things of value and grabbed at their own destruction by their
Greed and Avarice
They overlooked that cleansing fountain of
nature and brotherhood
Which is Joaquin.
The art of our great señors
Diego Rivera
Siqueiros
Orozco is but
another act of revolution for the Salvation of mankind. Mariachi music, the heart and soul of the people of the earth, the life of child, and the happiness of love
The Corridos tell the tales of life and death, of tradition, Legends old and new, of Joy of passion and sorrow of the people: who I am.
I am in the eyes of woman, sheltered beneath
her shawl of black, deep and sorrowful eyes,
That bear the pain of sons long buried or dying,
Dead
on the battlefield or on the barbwire of social strife.
Her rosary she prays and fingers
endlessly like the family working down a row of beets to turn around and work and work There is no end. Her eyes a mirror of all the warmth and all the love for me, And I am her And she is me. We face life together in sorrow. anger, joy faith and wishful thoughts.
I shed tears of anguish as I see my children disappear behind the shroud of mediocrity never to look back to remember me. I am Joaquin.
I must fight And win this struggle for my sons, and they must know from me Who I am. Part of the blood that runs deep in me Could not be vanquished by the Moors I defeated them after five hundred years, and I endured. The part of blood that is mine has labored endlessly five-hundred years under the heel of lustful Europeans
I am still here!
I have endured in the rugged mountains
of our country
I have survived the toils and slavery,
of the fields.
I have existed
in the barrios of the city,
in the suburbs of bigotry,
in the mines of social snobbery,
in the prisons of dejection,
in the muck of exploitation
and
in the fierce heat of racial hatred.
And now the trumpet sounds,
The music of the people stirs the
Revolution,
Like a sleeping giant it slowly rears its head
to the sound of
Tramping feet
Clamouring voices
Marlachi strains
Fiery tequila explosions
The smell of chile verde and
Soft brown eyes of expectation for a
better life
And in all the fertile farm lands,
the barren plains,
the mountain villages,
smoke smeared cities
We start to MOVE.
La Raza! Mejicano!
Español!
Latino!
Hispano!
Chicano!
or whatever I call myself,
I look the same
I feel the same
I cry
and
Sing the same
I am the masses of my people and I refuse to be absorbed.
I am Joaquin
The odds are great but my spirit is strong
My faith unbreakable
My blood is pure
I am Aztec Prince and Christian Christ
I SHALL ENDURE!
I WILL ENDURE!
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Yeah, Frank. He must mean a Jr. designation. I believe 16 is the youngest in actual amateur competition.kikibalt wrote:Rocker Mellencamp’s son wins Indiana Golden Gloves
INDIANAPOLIS (AP)—The 14-year-old son of rock singer John Mellencamp has won a division title in the Indiana Golden Gloves boxing tournament.
Hud Mellencamp, who boxes for the Indy Police Athletic League, earned a 4-1 decision over Cody Bennett of the Southpaw Boxing Club of Owensboro, Ky., in a 132-pound senior-division bout Thursday night.
Nine other open-division winners will represent Indiana in the national Golden Gloves tournament May 4-10 in Salt Lake City.
Mellencamp earned a trophy and a hug from his father, who attended the fight at Tyndall Armory.
Isn't 14 year old young to be going to the national's?, or am I misreading the article
Remember when it was 17 in Calif.?
Kid Rudy is up on all the amateur conditions, maybe he'll see this and respond.
-Rick
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
An amateur had to be 16 to enter the golden gloves here in Chicago back in the 70s.
Im sure some guys lied about their age.
Years ago, the Chicago Golden Gloves was a very prestigous tournament.
If you won the open title, you fought against New York in what was called the inter city golden gloves.
Ny champs vs Chicago champs.
Question for you guys, did the amateurs in California have "show fights".
We had them here. Typically the fighters would wear head gear ,(back when ams werent wearing any), 16 oz gloves and fight shortened rounds.One club vs a couple other clubs.I fought in one of these once at an outdoor venue (Loyola Park).
I dont think these fights counted on the amateur record.
Maybe Scar will know about these also.
Im sure some guys lied about their age.
Years ago, the Chicago Golden Gloves was a very prestigous tournament.
If you won the open title, you fought against New York in what was called the inter city golden gloves.
Ny champs vs Chicago champs.
Question for you guys, did the amateurs in California have "show fights".
We had them here. Typically the fighters would wear head gear ,(back when ams werent wearing any), 16 oz gloves and fight shortened rounds.One club vs a couple other clubs.I fought in one of these once at an outdoor venue (Loyola Park).
I dont think these fights counted on the amateur record.
Maybe Scar will know about these also.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Corky boxed for us at Hollywood in May, 1949, showing a world of class in beating Mario Chico Morales, in ten rounds. I rmember that he complained at payoff time, saying he could earn more than that showing in his home state. He was easily a sharp, learned and ambitious young man, so it was no surprise to watch him develop his talents later on.
hap navarro
hap navarro
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
USEFUL HOME REMEDIES:
1. AVOID CUTTING YOURSELF WHEN SLICING VEGETABLES BY GETTING SOMEONE ELSE TO HOLD THE VEGETABLES WHILE YOU SLICE.
2. AVOID ARGUMENTS WITH THE FEMALES ABOUT LIFTING THE TOILET SEAT BY USING THE SINK.
3. FOR HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE SUFFERERS ~ SIMPLY CUT YOURSELF AND BLEED FOR A FEW MINUTES, THUS REDUCING THE PRESSURE ON YOUR VEINS. REMEMBER TO USE A TIMER.
4. A MOUSE TRAP PLACED ON TOP OF YOUR ALARM CLOCK WILL PREVENT YOU FROM ROLLING OVER AND GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER YOU HIT THE SNOOZE BUTTON.
5. IF YOU HAVE A BAD COUGH, TAKE A LARGE DOSE OF LAXATIVES. THEN YOU'LL BE AFRAID TO COUGH.
6. YOU ONLY NEED TWO TOOLS IN LIFE - WD-40 AND DUCT TAPE. IF IT DOESN'T MOVE AND SHOULD, USE THE WD-40. IF IT SHOULDN'T MOVE AND DOES, USE THE DUCT TAPE.
7. IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT WITH A HAMMER, YOU'VE GOT AN ELECTRICAL PROBLEM.
DAILY THOUGHT: SOME PEOPLE ARE LIKE SLINKIES - NOT REALLY GOOD FOR ANYTHING BUT THEY BRING A SMILE TO YOUR FACE WHEN PUSHED DOWN THE STAIRS.
1. AVOID CUTTING YOURSELF WHEN SLICING VEGETABLES BY GETTING SOMEONE ELSE TO HOLD THE VEGETABLES WHILE YOU SLICE.
2. AVOID ARGUMENTS WITH THE FEMALES ABOUT LIFTING THE TOILET SEAT BY USING THE SINK.
3. FOR HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE SUFFERERS ~ SIMPLY CUT YOURSELF AND BLEED FOR A FEW MINUTES, THUS REDUCING THE PRESSURE ON YOUR VEINS. REMEMBER TO USE A TIMER.
4. A MOUSE TRAP PLACED ON TOP OF YOUR ALARM CLOCK WILL PREVENT YOU FROM ROLLING OVER AND GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER YOU HIT THE SNOOZE BUTTON.
5. IF YOU HAVE A BAD COUGH, TAKE A LARGE DOSE OF LAXATIVES. THEN YOU'LL BE AFRAID TO COUGH.
6. YOU ONLY NEED TWO TOOLS IN LIFE - WD-40 AND DUCT TAPE. IF IT DOESN'T MOVE AND SHOULD, USE THE WD-40. IF IT SHOULDN'T MOVE AND DOES, USE THE DUCT TAPE.
7. IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT WITH A HAMMER, YOU'VE GOT AN ELECTRICAL PROBLEM.
DAILY THOUGHT: SOME PEOPLE ARE LIKE SLINKIES - NOT REALLY GOOD FOR ANYTHING BUT THEY BRING A SMILE TO YOUR FACE WHEN PUSHED DOWN THE STAIRS.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
HIGH SCHOOL -- 1957 vs. 2008
Scenario 1:
Jack goes quail hunting before school and then pulls into the school parking lot with his shotgun in his truck's gun rack.
1957 - Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.
2008 - School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.
Scenario 2:
Johnny and Mark get into a fist fight after school.
1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.
2008 - Police called and SWAT team arrives -- they arrest both Johnny and Mark. They are both charged with assault and both expelled even though Johnny started it.
Scenario 3:
Jeffrey will not be still in class, he disrupts other students.
1957 - Jeffrey sent to the Principal's office and given a good paddling by the Principal. He then returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.
2008 - Jeffrey is given huge doses of Ritalin. He becomes a zombie. He is then tested for ADD. The school gets extra money from the state because Jeffrey has a disability.
Scenario 4:
Billy breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.
1957 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college and becomes a successful businessman.
2008 - Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy is removed to foster care and joins a gang. The state psychologist is told by Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mom has an affair with the psychologist.
Scenario 5:
Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirins to school.
1957 - Mark shares his aspirins with the Principal out on the smoking dock.
2008 - The police are called and Mark is expelled from school for drug violations. His car is then searched for drugs and weapons.
Scenario 6:
Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from the Fourth of July, puts them in a model airplane and blows up a red ant bed.
1957 - Ants die.
2008 - ATF, Homeland Security and the FBI are all called. Johnny is charged with domestic terrorism. The FBI investigates his parents -- and all siblings are removed from their home and all computers are confiscated. Johnny's dad is placed on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.
Scenario 7:
Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.
1957 - In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.
2008 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.
Scenario 1:
Jack goes quail hunting before school and then pulls into the school parking lot with his shotgun in his truck's gun rack.
1957 - Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.
2008 - School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.
Scenario 2:
Johnny and Mark get into a fist fight after school.
1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.
2008 - Police called and SWAT team arrives -- they arrest both Johnny and Mark. They are both charged with assault and both expelled even though Johnny started it.
Scenario 3:
Jeffrey will not be still in class, he disrupts other students.
1957 - Jeffrey sent to the Principal's office and given a good paddling by the Principal. He then returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.
2008 - Jeffrey is given huge doses of Ritalin. He becomes a zombie. He is then tested for ADD. The school gets extra money from the state because Jeffrey has a disability.
Scenario 4:
Billy breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.
1957 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college and becomes a successful businessman.
2008 - Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy is removed to foster care and joins a gang. The state psychologist is told by Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mom has an affair with the psychologist.
Scenario 5:
Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirins to school.
1957 - Mark shares his aspirins with the Principal out on the smoking dock.
2008 - The police are called and Mark is expelled from school for drug violations. His car is then searched for drugs and weapons.
Scenario 6:
Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from the Fourth of July, puts them in a model airplane and blows up a red ant bed.
1957 - Ants die.
2008 - ATF, Homeland Security and the FBI are all called. Johnny is charged with domestic terrorism. The FBI investigates his parents -- and all siblings are removed from their home and all computers are confiscated. Johnny's dad is placed on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.
Scenario 7:
Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.
1957 - In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.
2008 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
BrianExpug wrote:An amateur had to be 16 to enter the golden gloves here in Chicago back in the 70s.
Im sure some guys lied about their age.
Years ago, the Chicago Golden Gloves was a very prestigous tournament.
If you won the open title, you fought against New York in what was called the inter city golden gloves.
Ny champs vs Chicago champs.
Question for you guys, did the amateurs in California have "show fights".
We had them here. Typically the fighters would wear head gear ,(back when ams werent wearing any), 16 oz gloves and fight shortened rounds.One club vs a couple other clubs.I fought in one of these once at an outdoor venue (Loyola Park).
I dont think these fights counted on the amateur record.
Maybe Scar will know about these also.
A while back on the thread I wrote about how I fought on what you term a "show fight." It was at a bar in National City(a few miles south of San Diego)called the 21 Club. Rick said he fought there once,but it's not in the BoxRec records.
I know I wasn't licensed nor did I have a physical. I can't remember if there were any pro fights on the card. All I can remember is the guy that was my pal who introduced me to the sport was supposed to be there that night ,but his wife committed suicide that day. The bar was full of sailors and Phillippinos all drunk and acting crazy .There were B Girls everywhere and the place was so full of cigarette and cigar smoke I couldn't see across the room. All I can say it was a surrealistic dream that doesn't go away in my mind.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Rog, ya gotta love experiences like that.
Great stuff!
Those are the kinds of memories that make life interesting.
They are appreciated on this thread.
I was at a country club for a wedding reception a few weeks ago.
Sat at a table with a bunch of pantywaistes.I would have loved if you were there telling those folks about your experience at the 21 club.
Just to see their faces.
Great stuff!
Those are the kinds of memories that make life interesting.
They are appreciated on this thread.
I was at a country club for a wedding reception a few weeks ago.
Sat at a table with a bunch of pantywaistes.I would have loved if you were there telling those folks about your experience at the 21 club.
Just to see their faces.
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
raylawpc wrote:HIGH SCHOOL -- 1957 vs. 2008
Scenario 1:
Jack goes quail hunting before school and then pulls into the school parking lot with his shotgun in his truck's gun rack.
1957 - Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack's shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.
2008 - School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.
Scenario 2:
Johnny and Mark get into a fist fight after school.
1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.
2008 - Police called and SWAT team arrives -- they arrest both Johnny and Mark. They are both charged with assault and both expelled even though Johnny started it.
Scenario 3:
Jeffrey will not be still in class, he disrupts other students.
1957 - Jeffrey sent to the Principal's office and given a good paddling by the Principal. He then returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.
2008 - Jeffrey is given huge doses of Ritalin. He becomes a zombie. He is then tested for ADD. The school gets extra money from the state because Jeffrey has a disability.
Scenario 4:
Billy breaks a window in his neighbor's car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt.
1957 - Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college and becomes a successful businessman.
2008 - Billy's dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy is removed to foster care and joins a gang. The state psychologist is told by Billy's sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy's mom has an affair with the psychologist.
Scenario 5:
Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirins to school.
1957 - Mark shares his aspirins with the Principal out on the smoking dock.
2008 - The police are called and Mark is expelled from school for drug violations. His car is then searched for drugs and weapons.
Scenario 6:
Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from the Fourth of July, puts them in a model airplane and blows up a red ant bed.
1957 - Ants die.
2008 - ATF, Homeland Security and the FBI are all called. Johnny is charged with domestic terrorism. The FBI investigates his parents -- and all siblings are removed from their home and all computers are confiscated. Johnny's dad is placed on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.
Scenario 7:
Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.
1957 - In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.
2008 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison. Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.
Great post. Sad reality.
I remember 1957, the year I started kindergarten.
Sadly, we kids who had it great in 1957 (i.e. our generation) are responsible for all this bullshit.
It's our generation who made it illegal to allow people to work out their problems.
It's our generation who prided itself on rebellion, questioning authority, and peace & love.
It's our generation refuses to accept responsibility.
It's our generation who are being touted as heros for dehumanizing society.
I got the belt when I screwed up, but I was not abused. I was introduced to the reality consequences of choice.
If I choose bad beahvior, I choose bad consequences.
I was taught not blame others for my problems, look to myself and ask, "what's my part".
I had guidance, but was allowed to fail or succeed on my own, and I've done a lot of both.
We screwed this one up, it wasn't how we were raised, or was it? Now we are paying the consequences.
Problem is, nobody wants to carry their own water. Nobody wants to take responsibility. It's somebody else's fault.
It's going to get a lot worse.
-Rick Farris
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Slinkies? I'm with 'ya Tom.raylawpc wrote:USEFUL HOME REMEDIES:
1. AVOID CUTTING YOURSELF WHEN SLICING VEGETABLES BY GETTING SOMEONE ELSE TO HOLD THE VEGETABLES WHILE YOU SLICE.
2. AVOID ARGUMENTS WITH THE FEMALES ABOUT LIFTING THE TOILET SEAT BY USING THE SINK.
3. FOR HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE SUFFERERS ~ SIMPLY CUT YOURSELF AND BLEED FOR A FEW MINUTES, THUS REDUCING THE PRESSURE ON YOUR VEINS. REMEMBER TO USE A TIMER.
4. A MOUSE TRAP PLACED ON TOP OF YOUR ALARM CLOCK WILL PREVENT YOU FROM ROLLING OVER AND GOING BACK TO SLEEP AFTER YOU HIT THE SNOOZE BUTTON.
5. IF YOU HAVE A BAD COUGH, TAKE A LARGE DOSE OF LAXATIVES. THEN YOU'LL BE AFRAID TO COUGH.
6. YOU ONLY NEED TWO TOOLS IN LIFE - WD-40 AND DUCT TAPE. IF IT DOESN'T MOVE AND SHOULD, USE THE WD-40. IF IT SHOULDN'T MOVE AND DOES, USE THE DUCT TAPE.
7. IF YOU CAN'T FIX IT WITH A HAMMER, YOU'VE GOT AN ELECTRICAL PROBLEM.
DAILY THOUGHT: SOME PEOPLE ARE LIKE SLINKIES - NOT REALLY GOOD FOR ANYTHING BUT THEY BRING A SMILE TO YOUR FACE WHEN PUSHED DOWN THE STAIRS.
-Rick
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Roger . . .dagosd2000 wrote:BrianExpug wrote:An amateur had to be 16 to enter the golden gloves here in Chicago back in the 70s.
Im sure some guys lied about their age.
Years ago, the Chicago Golden Gloves was a very prestigous tournament.
If you won the open title, you fought against New York in what was called the inter city golden gloves.
Ny champs vs Chicago champs.
Question for you guys, did the amateurs in California have "show fights".
We had them here. Typically the fighters would wear head gear ,(back when ams werent wearing any), 16 oz gloves and fight shortened rounds.One club vs a couple other clubs.I fought in one of these once at an outdoor venue (Loyola Park).
I dont think these fights counted on the amateur record.
Maybe Scar will know about these also.
A while back on the thread I wrote about how I fought on what you term a "show fight." It was at a bar in National City(a few miles south of San Diego)called the 21 Club. Rick said he fought there once,but it's not in the BoxRec records.
I know I wasn't licensed nor did I have a physical. I can't remember if there were any pro fights on the card. All I can remember is the guy that was my pal who introduced me to the sport was supposed to be there that night ,but his wife committed suicide that day. The bar was full of sailors and Phillippinos all drunk and acting crazy .There were B Girls everywhere and the place was so full of cigarette and cigar smoke I couldn't see across the room. All I can say it was a surrealistic dream that doesn't go away in my mind.
If you check my Boxrec record, my fight at Club 21 has been verified and listed.
01/25/1971- Faustino Wolverine Campos . . . Club 21, National City, California W TKO-6
I was 18. The bout was scheduled for ten rounds. I had a pro license, the bout was sanctioned by the CSAC.
Club 21, a typical low end dive club. About as good as it gets in San Diego.
-Rick
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
HERE COMES THE FLEET
Back when Nam was going strong and the general public was divided on it,downtown San Diego was a serviveman's heaven. My neighbor was Japanese and his father owned a few of what they termed those "Oriental Bars."There was one on the corner of 5th and G Street called,yeah you guessed it,The Oriental.The prior name was the Club Rio. Named after the Brazilian burg.It had a big mirrow with an engraving of a dancer reminiscent of Carmen Miranda. But after a few rounds of drinks with the Lotus Land ladies ,Carmen started to look like Madame Butterfly.
The girls in those joints would spread the papers on the pool table and see what ships were arriving into port. For those sailors every night was Saturday night. They knew they could always go back to sleep it off on the ship and get a hot meal and an aspirin in the morning.
The lies that filled those places was almost as crowded as the occupancies. Every night those bars were filled to the doors. Get paid on the 15th. Borrow money within three days. The girls knew all the Navy boys by name and physical characteristics and visa versa. Oh,they talked about how they saved themselves for each other as the girls drank weak screwwdrivers and the tars were hammerin' down the hard stuff. No chaser.
The pecking order with the girls in those bars always struck me as being funny. Let's face it, those cutie pies had all sailed around the Cape Of Good Hope more than a few times. But for accuracy,here was ranking.
The Japanese thought they should have been the mascot on the Enterprise. Then came the Koreans. Those girls were tough and had a temper.Always eating Kim Chi and stinking up the joint with it. I don't remember many Chinese girls,but they were very quiet. They didn't bring in a lot of dinero. Last but not least were the Phillippinas. The other girls didn't have much to do with them. The Phillippinas weren't,I don't think,even considered Asian. They were Pan Asian. American culture. Sort of a bastard race in the other girls's eyes. But let me tell you Jack,those Phillippinas were the wildest. Besides,the sailors in those joints weren't looking for intellectual stimulation. The only stimulation they wanted was behind their buttoned up flies.
Back when Nam was going strong and the general public was divided on it,downtown San Diego was a serviveman's heaven. My neighbor was Japanese and his father owned a few of what they termed those "Oriental Bars."There was one on the corner of 5th and G Street called,yeah you guessed it,The Oriental.The prior name was the Club Rio. Named after the Brazilian burg.It had a big mirrow with an engraving of a dancer reminiscent of Carmen Miranda. But after a few rounds of drinks with the Lotus Land ladies ,Carmen started to look like Madame Butterfly.
The girls in those joints would spread the papers on the pool table and see what ships were arriving into port. For those sailors every night was Saturday night. They knew they could always go back to sleep it off on the ship and get a hot meal and an aspirin in the morning.
The lies that filled those places was almost as crowded as the occupancies. Every night those bars were filled to the doors. Get paid on the 15th. Borrow money within three days. The girls knew all the Navy boys by name and physical characteristics and visa versa. Oh,they talked about how they saved themselves for each other as the girls drank weak screwwdrivers and the tars were hammerin' down the hard stuff. No chaser.
The pecking order with the girls in those bars always struck me as being funny. Let's face it, those cutie pies had all sailed around the Cape Of Good Hope more than a few times. But for accuracy,here was ranking.
The Japanese thought they should have been the mascot on the Enterprise. Then came the Koreans. Those girls were tough and had a temper.Always eating Kim Chi and stinking up the joint with it. I don't remember many Chinese girls,but they were very quiet. They didn't bring in a lot of dinero. Last but not least were the Phillippinas. The other girls didn't have much to do with them. The Phillippinas weren't,I don't think,even considered Asian. They were Pan Asian. American culture. Sort of a bastard race in the other girls's eyes. But let me tell you Jack,those Phillippinas were the wildest. Besides,the sailors in those joints weren't looking for intellectual stimulation. The only stimulation they wanted was behind their buttoned up flies.
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Rick
Norton /Ali at the Sports Arena wasn't bad. Saad Muhammad defended his title against Mwale there too. All the fights Archie Moore and Bob Murphy had in San Diego. The old ball park Lane Field was a good place to watch the fights, and I know the Coliseum wasn't the Olympic Auditorium,but it was the only steady venue we had for fights down here and it was appreciated and remembered by the fans ,if not by the fighters. Rog
Norton /Ali at the Sports Arena wasn't bad. Saad Muhammad defended his title against Mwale there too. All the fights Archie Moore and Bob Murphy had in San Diego. The old ball park Lane Field was a good place to watch the fights, and I know the Coliseum wasn't the Olympic Auditorium,but it was the only steady venue we had for fights down here and it was appreciated and remembered by the fans ,if not by the fighters. Rog
-
scartissue
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 1893
- Joined: 31 Mar 2002, 20:00
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Brian, I'm very familiar with what I would call 'club-shows'. Although I never fought in any of them I was an amateur judge for 10 years and worked the tournaments as well as a club-show and some of the shows that would be put on in night clubs like Faces. All of them were great for keeping a fighter busy between tournaments. And we had plenty of those besides the GG's there was the CYO tournament and then after the Gloves there was the Park District tournament. Man, we had alot of shows going on back then.Expug wrote:An amateur had to be 16 to enter the golden gloves here in Chicago back in the 70s.
Im sure some guys lied about their age.
Years ago, the Chicago Golden Gloves was a very prestigous tournament.
If you won the open title, you fought against New York in what was called the inter city golden gloves.
Ny champs vs Chicago champs.
Question for you guys, did the amateurs in California have "show fights".
We had them here. Typically the fighters would wear head gear ,(back when ams werent wearing any), 16 oz gloves and fight shortened rounds.One club vs a couple other clubs.I fought in one of these once at an outdoor venue (Loyola Park).
I dont think these fights counted on the amateur record.
Maybe Scar will know about these also.
Scartissue
-
Rick Farris
- Heavyweight

- Posts: 7200
- Joined: 15 Feb 2008, 16:04
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
In 1969, I fought at the San Diego International Sports Arena. It was where the '69 National AAU Championships were held.dagosd2000 wrote:Rick
Norton /Ali at the Sports Arena wasn't bad. Saad Muhammad defended his title against Mwale there too. All the fights Archie Moore and Bob Murphy had in San Diego. The old ball park Lane Field was a good place to watch the fights, and I know the Coliseum wasn't the Olympic Auditorium,but it was the only steady venue we had for fights down here and it was appreciated and remembered by the fans ,if not by the fighters. Rog
This was where Earnie Shavers first came onto the radar, after flattening favored Jim Elder in the heavyweight final.
It's where Armando Muniz won his 2nd consecutive Nat'l AAU title.
I was 17, defeated the All-Marine Flyweight champ in my first bout, was beaten by the All-Army champ in my second (he won the Nat'l title that year).
It was the first boxing event held at the brand new S.D. Sports Arena.
The LeBaron Hotel, on Hotel Circle was where all the boxers stayed that week.
It was one helluva wild place after the tourney had ended, a few hundred boxers running wild.
I have a program from the event. Lots of familiar names, future contenders. I'll post it.
-Rick
