BoxRec

pembjr1 wrote:Well, I do appreciate all the help you've done for me. It just goes to show that what I've heard about him seems to coming true. His own brother had said he never really stayed with one thing. Kinda like being interested in one thing and once you've mastered it, the boredom starts all over and then you move on to the next interest. I guess I picked that up from him since that was how I was as a kid. Thanks everyone for all you've done. I sure would probably enjoy sitting around having a "stogie" and a drink, and can listen to all of the interesting life stories you could tell. Take care and thank you again!

Paul E. M. Benoist Jr.

Paul, where was your father born? What year? His wife.your mothers name? His middle initial? Some info might make it easier to track him.

Randy

kikibalt wrote:Dedicated to Danny Cahalin,AKA Wildhawke11

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6E2hYDIFDIU
"I Did My Way"
Frank Sinatra

kikibalt wrote:

Hap had a pair back in the day! I'm betting he still does.

Has anyone heard from Hap. How is he?
Randy

From the L.A. Times Article Collections

Dub Huntley's career in boxing wasn't by the book, but he had a good man in his corner

Huntley has been in the fight game for 58 years, and at age 70 he still trains boxers at Broadway Boxing Gym in South L.A. But it isn't the same without his close friend, the late Jerry Boyd, author of the book that formed the basis of the Oscar-winning film 'Million Dollar Baby.'

June 06, 2010|Jerry Crowe

Boxing continues to stir Dub Huntley. He still trains fighters. And when a major championship bout comes on television, he gathers friends and family to watch.

After 58 years in the fight game, Huntley still loves it.

But it's different now.

He misses his cut man.

Huntley and the late Jerry Boyd were more than corner colleagues. They were the best of friends.

"Me and Jerry, we hit it off when we first met," Huntley says. "We did everything together."

Boyd, under the pen name F.X. Toole, turned their adventures into a critically acclaimed book, "Rope Burns: Stories from the Corner." The book in turn formed the basis of Clint Eastwood's Academy Award-winning 2004 film, "Million Dollar Baby," with traces of Huntley's personality embodied in two central characters — played by Eastwood and Oscar winner Morgan Freeman.

Boyd, however, died unexpectedly two years before the film's release, taking a piece of Huntley's heart with him.

"He left too early," Huntley says.

Boyd, who as Toole became a literary sensation at age 70, was honored posthumously Friday in New York as winner of the Boxing Writers Assn. of America's A.J. Liebling Award. It was another reminder to Huntley that his friend is gone.

Huntley, a 70-year-old grandfather, long ago came to grips with Boyd's death. But when his friend, dying of pneumonia, took his last breath in September 2002, the longtime trainer "went into a depression," says Jessie, his wife of nearly 50 years.

"A lot of time right now," Huntley says in regard to training fighters, "I don't want to be doing it no more."

But still he carries on.

Seated in his tiny office/equipment room at the Broadway Boxing Gym in South Los Angeles, he explains. Referencing Boyd, he says, "I wanted us to get a world champion together. I always say, 'He gone, but if I ever get a world champion, he'll feel it.' "

An African American from Cairo, Ga., Huntley forged his improbable friendship with Boyd, a white man from the South Bay, more than 30 years ago, when Boyd turned to the sport in his late 40s intending nothing more than to get in shape.

Encountering Huntley, he asked the trainer how much he'd charge to work with him, and Huntley said he'd do it for free.

"I went home and told my wife, 'This old white guy came in the gym and want me to train him,' " Huntley recalls. "I said I wasn't going to charge him nothing and she said, 'Why?' And I said, 'Because I'm going to run him out of the gym.' "

Huntley by then was a veteran of the fight game, having thrown his first knockout punch while still in grammar school.

"When I was 12," he says, "I was boxing a kid at school. I knock him out. My dad said, 'If you never drink or smoke, you can be a fighter.' And I put that in my mind.

"I never drank and never smoked. Still haven't."

But that didn't make him a great fighter. Born W.L. Huntley, the seventh of 10 kids born into a family of farmers, the middleweight won 17 of 39 pro bouts. He lost 19, with three draws.

"A lot of 'em I lost," Huntley insists, "I didn't lose."

In January 1970, during a bout in Rome, he caught a thumb in his left eye, suffering a detached retina.

"When I came out of the ring, I couldn't see the step," he says. "I had no feeling for it. I said, 'Something's wrong.' But I wouldn't tell nobody. I kept on trying to fight."

Nodding toward his wife, he says, "One day she went to the fight and she say, 'What wrong?' I said, 'Nothing.' "

But they both knew.

Crushed that his dream of winning a world championship was over, Huntley vowed to never set foot in a gym again. Before long, however, he was back, this time as a trainer.

Among the fighters he has worked with are Iran Barkley, Johnny Tapia and Muhammad Ali's daughter, Laila, whose errant punch inadvertently knocked out two of his front teeth.

Meanwhile, he never did shake Boyd, who kept turning up every day wanting to learn more about the sweet science.

Eventually, Huntley asked him to be his cut man and they traveled the world together, working corners.

Boyd, a frustrated writer who didn't sell his first story until he was 69, later surprised his friend by telling him he was going to have a book published. For fear of spooking his fighters, Boyd hadn't told anyone in boxing he was a writer.

"He said, 'If I make any money from this book, you and I will never have to worry about nothing else,' " Huntley says. " 'Believe me,' he says, 'you will not have to worry about money.' He said, 'We're going to have our own gym. You have your office in the gym and I'm going to have my office in the gym.' "

But by the time the movie was made, Boyd was gone.

"I didn't make no money off that," Huntley says. "But I believe if he had been here, I would have got some.

"The only thing I got from 'Million Dollar Baby,' they sent a limo to pick me up and take me to the awards."

Not the Academy Awards, but an awards show at USC.

Huntley takes pride, however, in Boyd's "Rope Burns" dedication to "Dub Huntley, my daddy in boxing."

Says Huntley: "I thought it was wonderful. I really feel in my heart that he loved me. And I would have never thought he would feel that way about me."

The feeling, of course, was mutual.

Still, Huntley has one regret.

"Every day I'd come to the gym, he'd be there waiting on me," he says, laughing. "I should have charged him."

http://articles.latimes.com/2010/jun/06 ... e-20100607

[email protected]

Randyman wrote:

BoxBuzz wrote:man I'm old....can it really be about 40 years since I watched this? I'd place this at or around 1970.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j5-vapUm ... re=related

Man he was moving that razor so fast I don't think he was really shaving. Back then if you shaved that fast you would end up with little pieces of toilet paper all over your face.

It's hard to believe that it's been so many years since that commercial. Even harder to believe that it's been so many years since jerry Quarry has come and gone.

Randy

It is quite poignant when you consider that Jerry could not even shave himself in later life.

THEHAMMER321 wrote:great stories Rick and Boxingnut, one time it must have been within a month of his passing Wildhawke reposted a story written by someone called rocky3, about Curtis ''hatchetman'' shepard and I gave credit to Wildhawke for writing the story, he quickly responded that he was not the writer and the credit should go to Rocky3, a humble classy human being, he will be missed.

The Sheppard story was written by Aram "Rocky" Alkazoff, who also did a great piece on Caveman Lee:

"The inmates with me were all black men between the ages of 18 to over 70. I was the only non black, which meant nothing in here. The men were skinny, underfed, and most of them looked like they stepped right out of crack cocaine habits. All the conversation was "f uck this and f uck that", and "pussy this and pussy that", and arguments over "who makes more money, Mike Jordan or Oprah Winfrey?" and ignorant stuff like that. I wanted to put in ear plugs. But before putting my head down, I did notice one convict who was looking at me in a curious way.
Now usually in a prison situation when a convict is staring at another convict, it can lead to violence. In Detroit it is called 'Marquetteing' someone. Marquette is the name of the highest security prison in the Michigan system. Staring at someone with an attitude means you want to do him harm of some sort. But this was different. You could tell this guy meant no harm. The vibrations were different.
Taking a good look at him, I noticed his skin was very jet black, and smooth. His hair was long and 'nappy', but his eyes were bright and alert, and his teeth very large and bright. I also noticed that his forearms hanging out of his jail blouse were muscular, bottomed off by well formed knuckles and hands. He was about 35 or so and healthier than the others.
"Hey man is your name Rocky?" he asked. "Didn't you box at Kronk back in the seventies or early eighties?"
"Yeah I used to work out there and spar with guys", I answered, getting up and moving next to him. "I just like boxing, keeping in shape."
"How come you didn't go pro?" he asked. "You were alright. Hit hard with that right hand too."
"Too old," I laughed. "I was older than I looked. Man, I started boxing in Chicago in the sixties, but I didn't go anywhere with it. You know, I wanted to be a casanova."
We both started laughing and slapped hands.
"Yeah I was a young fool," I went on. "Didn't take advantage of what I might have had. But later on when I moved to Detroit, and I was involved in the street life, I still liked to go to the gym and spar."
"Well, you held your own," the dark skinned man said. "You look like you're still ready."
"I been down five years," I said, still not knowing who the man was. "I been working out. Say, I'm not good with names. I forgot yours."
"William Lee," he said, smiling those big white teeth. "
"Caveman Lee!" I thought. "This kid fought Hagler for the title! What the hell was he doing here?"
"Caveman, God damm," I said, and we hugged each other. "What the hell are you doing here man? I heard you was locked up years ago for some armed robbery or something."
"I did five years," he answered.
"What are you doing here now?" I asked.
He looked down sadly. Our whole mood changed.
"Armed robbery again. I got fifteen to life."
"What the hell happened?" I asked further.
"I got caught up again," he said. "I messed up. Started getting high. I messed up bad. You know. Didn't know what to do with myself. Ran out of money. I messed up bad." I saw he was down in the dumps, and so was I for that matter. I thought to change the subject.
"What the hell happened against Hagler?" I asked. "I figured you were going to go to war with the guy. You got the break when Goodwin pulled out, and I figured you would fight him like a animal."
"I wanted to," he said, perking up at the mention of boxing. "I planned to. When Mickey pulled out and I got my chance, I was in good shape. But the fight with the Puerto Rican took too much out of me Rock."
"LoCicero?" I asked. "Man, what a fight! They used to show the highlights on ESPN all the time. I was locked up when I finally saw it. LoCicero was a tough monkey huh?"
"Real tough," he said. "I thought one of us was gonna die. Johnny LoCicero was a tough dude. He could hit, but I wanted that fight so bad. I woulda' died rather than lose. But against Hagler it was different, Rock."
"What happened, William?"
"Man it was a different atmosphere," he said, shaking his head. "It was too clean. Too controlled. Hagler was so smooth, so confident. He came right out and nailed me. It wasn't as hard as LoCicero hurt me, but it was still hard. He was too good. I stayed down. To be honest with you Rock, I think the LoCicero fight took it out of me. I wasn't the same. Then I got a few bucks and everything got crazy."
He looked at me and snuck in a smile, and I started smiling back. We both understood.
"Yeah I know that feeling too William," I remarked.
"Oh well," he said resigning himself to his fate. "Now I start this poop again. I don't know how, but here I am."
I had been in his position five years ago, and an old fighter had picked me up with his encouraging words. I knew Caveman was down and depressed, and I wanted to say something to pick up his spirits.
"Caveman do me a favour," I asked.
"What Rock?"
"I know this is gonna be tough, but I want you to remember something," I said. "You fought a hall of famer for the middleweight title. The real title, not some alphabet title. You got knocked out, but plenty of guys have got knocked out. Point is you were in there with Hagler. How many guys can say that?"
Caveman put his head down sadly into his two strong hands, then picked it up looking at me.
"Man you fought Johnny LoCicero in the fight of the year," I went on. "That puts you in the class with Basilio and Sugar Ray, and Ali and Joe Frazier, with Jack Dempsey and Joe Louis man. You fought for the middleweight title man. The real title held by a hall of famer like Marvin Hagler. Man, that's the title that Monzon had, and Tony Zale."
"Tony Zale and Rocky Graziano," he murmured to himself. "They said LoCicero and me was like Tony Zale and Rocky Graziano."
"That's what I'm saying Caveman," I went on. "Forget this bullshit. If you didn't become a champ out in the streets, in the joint you can be a champ. You can get back in perfect condition and walk around like the champ. You can be in shape like a champ. You done things no one in here has done, nor hardly no one in the streets. You need to be proud of all that and keep your pride. Don't let these bastards steal it from you."
"They'll try to," he said nodding. "I know that."
"Well then," I said. "It's another fight and you gotta fight back. Once you're back in shape, start trying your best to get out of here. You can still get a parole. If you gotta do the time, do it like a champ. Don't mess around with bullshit in there. Stay away from booze and drugs and the sissies. You fought for the title. The real title. Now walk around like a champ. Inspire people who admire you, man."
"I see how you are Rock," he said. "I can do it."
"An old fighter named Curtis 'The Hatchetman' Sheppard who was doing a life bit too, gave me that advice," I said getting up, hearing my name called by a guard. "He saw I had life, and had heard I wanted to be a fighter when I was young. He inspired me to get in shape and then to stand up and fight this sentence, and walk around like the champ. You too Caveman. I did it and you can do it. Remember, you fought for the middleweight title, man. Tony Zale's title, Sugar Ray Robinson's title..."
I got up, and we hugged again. He kissed me on the cheek like a brother."

Randyman wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

Hap had a pair back in the day! I'm betting he still does.

Has anyone heard from Hap. How is he?
Randy

Randy, Hap is doing fine, he send me this article the day I posted it.

kikibalt wrote:

Frankie shot this picture of Dub Huntly and me today at my house

I know that Huntley trains fighters, does Frankie have any interest in training fighters .

Rocky Baltazar working out with Dub Huntly at Frankie's house

THEHAMMER321 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

Frankie shot this picture of Dub Huntly and me today at my house

I know that Huntley trains fighters, does Frankie have any interest in training fighters .

No, he shows no interest in doing so.....

So I know how tall Rocky is, so he gotta be a heavyweight, does he have amateur experience

THEHAMMER321 wrote:So I know how tall Rocky is, so he gotta be a heavyweight, does he have amateur experience

Rocky is six four, no, no amateur experience....don't think he wants to fight, he is just working out..

kikibalt wrote:

THEHAMMER321 wrote:So I know how tall Rocky is, so he gotta be a heavyweight, does he have amateur experience

Rocky is six four, no, no amateur experience....don't think he wants to fight, he is just working out..

good for him who needs that sh-t.

Didn't you say before Rocky is a computer geek.

kikibalt wrote:

Randyman wrote:

kikibalt wrote:[/quot

Hap had a pair back in the day! I'm betting he still does.
Has anyone heard from Hap. How is he?

Randy

Randy, Hap is doing fine, he send me this article the day I posted it.

Randy, Hap certainly does have an abundance of courage and charactor. An amazing man who, at 91, is feeling a few of the physical challenges related to the perils of aging, however, he has the sharpest mind of anybody I've ever known. Hap would be posting more but his computor "goes on the fritz" (his words) and that makes things difficult. Hap Navarro wasn't just taking on a neighborhood bully when he stood up to the IBC, he was challenging a dangerous, mob controlled organization that had a history of making it's critics "disappear". On more than one occasion I attempted to get Hap to provide details of his dealings with the IBC, but Hap would not talk about such things, saying only that "If you wanted to hold a title fight, you had to have the permission from New York." He even forwarded me (and Frank Baltazar) a copy of a telegram sent him from the powerful organization sanctioning a North American title fight Hap promoted featuring flyweght, Keeny Teran. How lucky we are to have Hap Navarro in our corner, a true boxing icon, historian and a true friend. I don't put to individuals on a pedestal, but Hap Navarro is the exception. I could listen to or read Hap Navarro stories for hours on end.

-Rick Farris

THEHAMMER321 wrote:Didn't you say before Rocky is a computer geek.

No, the geek is Bobby's son, Ryan

THEHAMMER321 wrote:anybody out there know much about Dave Orepeza ?, as a kid growing up in Vegas I would often hear people talk of him as I look at boxrec. he fought about half his fights at the old Silver Slipper.

I saw him fight at the Forum once, on one Parnassus big cards.

Rick Farris wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

Randyman wrote:Randy, Hap is doing fine, he send me this article the day I posted it.

Randy, Hap certainly does have an abundance of courage and charactor. An amazing man who, at 91, is feeling a few of the physical challenges related to the perils of aging, however, he has the sharpest mind of anybody I've ever known. Hap would be posting more but his computor "goes on the fritz" (his words) and that makes things difficult. Hap Navarro wasn't just taking on a neighborhood bully when he stood up to the IBC, he was challenging a dangerous, mob controlled organization that had a history of making it's critics "disappear". On more than one occasion I attempted to get Hap to provide details of his dealings with the IBC, but Hap would not talk about such things, saying only that "If you wanted to hold a title fight, you had to have the permission from New York." He even forwarded me (and Frank Baltazar) a copy of a telegram sent him from the powerful organization sanctioning a North American title fight Hap promoted featuring flyweght, Keeny Teran. How lucky we are to have Hap Navarro in our corner, a true boxing icon, historian and a true friend. I don't put to individuals on a pedestal, but Hap Navarro is the exception. I could listen to or read Hap Navarro stories for hours on end.

-Rick Farris

No kidding. When you think about Ray Arcel, it puts Hap's courage into a clearer context. Arcel, one will recall, was clubbed over the head with a lead pipe and nearly killed while in the midst of a dispute with the IBC in the 1950s.

Hey Gents,

How do I post pics on this site so I can at least show someone what my dad looked like. Maybe that might be a thing for me to do since no one remembers the name. Also, how was his record attained for posting? How or who? Where was this record gathered from? How did Box-Rec get it? Thanks.

Paul E. M. Benoist Jr.

Rick Farris wrote:

Brilliant, Rob! I learned more about our friend thru your words.
Now, that was a trinute.

One thing is very obvious, Danny touched us, and he touched so may others.
You know, sometimes I think of the logo for the WBHOF . . .
"Where Champions Live Forever".
On this great thread, and others where Wildhawke posted, Danny Cahalin will live forever.[/quote]

Rick

Would it be possible for me to post your wonderful tribute to Danny on the Out of the Park Developments boxing forum, where Danny spent some time and they even set up a hall of fame page for him?

Regards

Rob

pembjr1 wrote:Hey Gents,

How do I post pics on this site so I can at least show someone what my dad looked like. Maybe that might be a thing for me to do since no one remembers the name. Also, how was his record attained for posting? How or who? Where was this record gathered from? How did Box-Rec get it? Thanks.

Paul E. M. Benoist Jr.

The records are gathered from old newspapers accounts etc. There are several online newspaper archives where you can search time periods of newspapers in specific states/areas. Unfortunatly i dont have the links to any of the archives atm.

Best of luck in your search

Boxingnut wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:

Brilliant, Rob! I learned more about our friend thru your words.
Now, that was a trinute.

One thing is very obvious, Danny touched us, and he touched so may others.
You know, sometimes I think of the logo for the WBHOF . . .
"Where Champions Live Forever".
On this great thread, and others where Wildhawke posted, Danny Cahalin will live forever.

Rick

Would it be possible for me to post your wonderful tribute to Danny on the Out of the Park Developments boxing forum, where Danny spent some time and they even set up a hall of fame page for him?

Regards

Rob[/quote]


Rob . . . Yes. Permission not necessary to reproduce anything I share on this thread. This is especially true of anything that honours our good friend, Wildhawke.

Rick Farris wrote:

Boxingnut wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:

Brilliant, Rob! I learned more about our friend thru your words.
Now, that was a trinute.

One thing is very obvious, Danny touched us, and he touched so may others.
You know, sometimes I think of the logo for the WBHOF . . .
"Where Champions Live Forever".
On this great thread, and others where Wildhawke posted, Danny Cahalin will live forever.

Rick

Would it be possible for me to post your wonderful tribute to Danny on the Out of the Park Developments boxing forum, where Danny spent some time and they even set up a hall of fame page for him?

Regards

Rob

Rob . . . Yes. Permission not necessary to reproduce anything I share on this thread. This is especially true of anything that honours our good friend, Wildhawke.[/quote]

Thanks Rick, thought it best to ask!!

Murray: Dempsey was the meanest
By Jim Murray
Special to ESPN.com

Editor's note: This column originally appeared in the Los Angeles Times on November 17, 1965.

There are all kinds of ways to get ready for a heavyweight championship fight. You work on what you need.

Joe Louis used to practice going to the farthest neutral corner. Gene Tunney practiced running for his life, Floyd Patterson should practice getting up and Muhammad Whatisname should practice shutting up.

Lots of fighters practice hooks to the head but Gene Fullmer used to practice hooks with the head. Rocky Marciano threw so many punches in so many directions he just had to make sure he didn't hit the referee -- or the ring posts.

ESPN Classic
SportsCentury will profile Jack Dempsey on Friday, August 10 at 8 and 11 p.m. ET.
But Jack Dempsey was the only champion who practiced the same way the early Christians did -- as if his opponent had a mane and claws and would not only fight him but eat him. Dempsey even fought a punching bag as if it might open fire at any time. Sparring partners limped out of town on every bus. A newspaper man climbed into the ring with him once as a gag, and a colleague had to write the fellow's story for a few days afterwards while he took nourishment through a straw. "Dempsey fought you," a battered spar-mate once confided, "as if the two of you were on a ledge 20 stories up and it was either him or you."

The man who can best testify to the terrible tornadic frenzy of the Dempsey attack is a tall, graceful, New Orleans-born Irishman named Marty Burke.

Martin Burke, now 70 and still blondhaired, is known around the sound stages of Hollywood as the father of 20th Century Fox's television star, Paul Burke ("12 O'Clock High") but he was known around the gyms and barges of New Orleans' "Irish Channel" section as "The Turk," the best left-hook artist who ever came out of bayou country.

Marty's book, if he writes it, is going to be called "1,000 Rounds with Jack Dempsey, or Did You Think I Got This Ear Answering the Telephone?" If you doubt Dempsey's punch, Marty will take your hand and press into what once was a chest bone, but what is now a depression deep enough to hide letters. Dempsey did that with a single hook. Marty forgets what kind of punch it was that used to break his nose regularly.

Marty began to train with Dempsey well before the Dempsey-Willard fight. The two of them toured the tank towns of New Jersey and Pennsylvania where Dempsey's manager, Doc Kearns, posted a ritual $500 fee for anyone who could go the route against the tigerish Dempsey. Doc used to post himself behind the curtain with a bung starter in case any of the tank palookas got lucky, but Marty recalls the few who squared off against Dempsey went out on a stretcher. Marty had to take up the slack and keep the show going.

One night, when his nose looked like a pomegranate and his ear had grown so far it looked like a second head, Marty mildly suggested to Dempsey that he take off a day to heal. "Oh," soother Dempsey, "I'll take it easy with you, Turk -- just a few body taps." The first part of his body Dempsey tapped was his nose -- with one of the hardest rights he ever threw. "Jack just didn't know the meaning of 'take it easy' when he got into the ring. You had to be alert out there or you'd find yourself looking around for your head."

One time, Marty sparred six rounds in one week with Dempsey, and then fought 15 with Gene Tunney for the American light-heavyweight championship. "The six rounds with Dempsey were worse than the whole 15 with Tunney." In fact, Burke says, his tow fights with Tunney -- he lost both -- were easier than any single vaudeville fight with Dempsey with 16-ounce gloves.

Marty's next-hardest fight was with Harry Greb. "He hit me so often, I actually turned around to see who was helping him. With Greb, it was a good thing he couldn't hit hard because he hit often. With Dempsey, it was a good thing he didn't hit often because he hit hard."

At 6 feet 3 inches, Marty had altitude going for him in most fights. Also, he presented a slim target. He weighed as little as 154 when he first began to tour with Dempsey. He fought George Godfrey, on of the great Negro fighters of the '20s, only after the boxing commission told him to put on four more pounds on the afternoon of the fight. Marty spent the rest of the day draining down bootleg ale and Guinness Stout. He not only made the weight, he almost made the drunk tank. This was the first time they ever had to give a fighter a shower BEFORE the fight. Marty showed up at 175 pounds, singing "Mother Machree." Godfrey, a two-bottle man himself, just looked jealous.

Marty even won the fight. At 220 and cold sober, Godfrey was no match for him, and this was at a time when all the ranking heavyweights were ducking behind the color line and keeping Godfrey, known variously as the "Baron of Leiperville" or the "Leopard of Leiperville" and other alliterations, at bay. In time, Godfrey came up to Marty after the bout and allowed, "Turk, you're the first fighter I met in a long time didn't ax me to handcuff myself."

After Dempsey, Burke didn't see any need to ask anybody to handcuff himself. In fact, he was the first to know it when Dempsey began to lose it all. "I told him before the Tunney fight, 'Jack, you know you can't fight anymore. Tunney shouldn't lose a round.'" It turned out, Tunney didn't. Not even the one he was knocked down in for 14 seconds in the second fight.

Marty drifted around the fight game for several more years after that -- or until he got knocked out in one round by Young Stribling. "Five years before, Stribling couldn't have hit me with a handful of birdseed."

Back in New Orleans, Marty opened a French Quarter saloon so tough the shore patrol used to walk it in platoon strength. Some of Marty's last fights were with longshoreman half his age and twice his weight and one night when business was good, Marty sat down after he had stacked a few customers in a neat pile outside the front door, and reached in his mouth and extracted three teeth by hand which had already been loosened by fists.

He spoke in a lisp as he inspected the bloody molars. "I wonder," he questioned, "how Dempsey missed these?"

This column originally appeared in The Los Angeles Times. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Jim Murray, the long-time sports columnist for the Los Angeles Times, won the Pultizer Prize for commentary in 1990. He died Aug. 16, 1998.

kikibalt wrote:Murray: Dempsey was the meanest
By Jim Murray
Special to ESPN.com

Editor's note: This column originally appeared in the Los Angeles Times on November 17, 1965.

There are all kinds of ways to get ready for a heavyweight championship fight. You work on what you need.

Joe Louis used to practice going to the farthest neutral corner. Gene Tunney practiced running for his life, Floyd Patterson should practice getting up and Muhammad Whatisname should practice shutting up.

Lots of fighters practice hooks to the head but Gene Fullmer used to practice hooks with the head. Rocky Marciano threw so many punches in so many directions he just had to make sure he didn't hit the referee -- or the ring posts.

ESPN Classic
SportsCentury will profile Jack Dempsey on Friday, August 10 at 8 and 11 p.m. ET.
But Jack Dempsey was the only champion who practiced the same way the early Christians did -- as if his opponent had a mane and claws and would not only fight him but eat him. Dempsey even fought a punching bag as if it might open fire at any time. Sparring partners limped out of town on every bus. A newspaper man climbed into the ring with him once as a gag, and a colleague had to write the fellow's story for a few days afterwards while he took nourishment through a straw. "Dempsey fought you," a battered spar-mate once confided, "as if the two of you were on a ledge 20 stories up and it was either him or you."

The man who can best testify to the terrible tornadic frenzy of the Dempsey attack is a tall, graceful, New Orleans-born Irishman named Marty Burke.

Martin Burke, now 70 and still blondhaired, is known around the sound stages of Hollywood as the father of 20th Century Fox's television star, Paul Burke ("12 O'Clock High") but he was known around the gyms and barges of New Orleans' "Irish Channel" section as "The Turk," the best left-hook artist who ever came out of bayou country.

Marty's book, if he writes it, is going to be called "1,000 Rounds with Jack Dempsey, or Did You Think I Got This Ear Answering the Telephone?" If you doubt Dempsey's punch, Marty will take your hand and press into what once was a chest bone, but what is now a depression deep enough to hide letters. Dempsey did that with a single hook. Marty forgets what kind of punch it was that used to break his nose regularly.

Marty began to train with Dempsey well before the Dempsey-Willard fight. The two of them toured the tank towns of New Jersey and Pennsylvania where Dempsey's manager, Doc Kearns, posted a ritual $500 fee for anyone who could go the route against the tigerish Dempsey. Doc used to post himself behind the curtain with a bung starter in case any of the tank palookas got lucky, but Marty recalls the few who squared off against Dempsey went out on a stretcher. Marty had to take up the slack and keep the show going.

One night, when his nose looked like a pomegranate and his ear had grown so far it looked like a second head, Marty mildly suggested to Dempsey that he take off a day to heal. "Oh," soother Dempsey, "I'll take it easy with you, Turk -- just a few body taps." The first part of his body Dempsey tapped was his nose -- with one of the hardest rights he ever threw. "Jack just didn't know the meaning of 'take it easy' when he got into the ring. You had to be alert out there or you'd find yourself looking around for your head."

One time, Marty sparred six rounds in one week with Dempsey, and then fought 15 with Gene Tunney for the American light-heavyweight championship. "The six rounds with Dempsey were worse than the whole 15 with Tunney." In fact, Burke says, his tow fights with Tunney -- he lost both -- were easier than any single vaudeville fight with Dempsey with 16-ounce gloves.

Marty's next-hardest fight was with Harry Greb. "He hit me so often, I actually turned around to see who was helping him. With Greb, it was a good thing he couldn't hit hard because he hit often. With Dempsey, it was a good thing he didn't hit often because he hit hard."

At 6 feet 3 inches, Marty had altitude going for him in most fights. Also, he presented a slim target. He weighed as little as 154 when he first began to tour with Dempsey. He fought George Godfrey, on of the great Negro fighters of the '20s, only after the boxing commission told him to put on four more pounds on the afternoon of the fight. Marty spent the rest of the day draining down bootleg ale and Guinness Stout. He not only made the weight, he almost made the drunk tank. This was the first time they ever had to give a fighter a shower BEFORE the fight. Marty showed up at 175 pounds, singing "Mother Machree." Godfrey, a two-bottle man himself, just looked jealous.

Marty even won the fight. At 220 and cold sober, Godfrey was no match for him, and this was at a time when all the ranking heavyweights were ducking behind the color line and keeping Godfrey, known variously as the "Baron of Leiperville" or the "Leopard of Leiperville" and other alliterations, at bay. In time, Godfrey came up to Marty after the bout and allowed, "Turk, you're the first fighter I met in a long time didn't ax me to handcuff myself."

After Dempsey, Burke didn't see any need to ask anybody to handcuff himself. In fact, he was the first to know it when Dempsey began to lose it all. "I told him before the Tunney fight, 'Jack, you know you can't fight anymore. Tunney shouldn't lose a round.'" It turned out, Tunney didn't. Not even the one he was knocked down in for 14 seconds in the second fight.

Marty drifted around the fight game for several more years after that -- or until he got knocked out in one round by Young Stribling. "Five years before, Stribling couldn't have hit me with a handful of birdseed."

Back in New Orleans, Marty opened a French Quarter saloon so tough the shore patrol used to walk it in platoon strength. Some of Marty's last fights were with longshoreman half his age and twice his weight and one night when business was good, Marty sat down after he had stacked a few customers in a neat pile outside the front door, and reached in his mouth and extracted three teeth by hand which had already been loosened by fists.

He spoke in a lisp as he inspected the bloody molars. "I wonder," he questioned, "how Dempsey missed these?"

This column originally appeared in The Los Angeles Times. Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Jim Murray, the long-time sports columnist for the Los Angeles Times, won the Pultizer Prize for commentary in 1990. He died Aug. 16, 1998.

Jim Murray is the finest sports writer I ever read.