BoxRec

Jimmy Carter . . .

When I was 17, 18 years old, I got to know Teddy Bentham.
He trained Jerry Quarry, and my friend who was Quarry's sparring partner, would give Teddy a ride home to the Valley.
We'd drop Teddy off at his friend's house in Van Nuys. His friend was some entertainment figure, Eddie Foy III.
Teddy would talk to us about Carlos Ortiz, Jimmy Carter, and others he'd worked with.
Today I wish I could replay those conversations. I don't remember much of what he said about Carter.

After his boxing career was over, Jimmy Carter was a car salesman at Nick Shmash's (spelling) Felix Chevrolet.

kikibalt wrote:After his boxing career was over, Jimmy Carter was a car salesman at Nick Shmash's (spelling) Felix Chevrolet.

Felix Chevrolet! Bought a lot of TV advertising for Olympic Auditorium events. Boxing-Wrestling-Roller Derby.
I remember Nick Shamus. A friend told me that in the earliest days of local TV, Dick Lane would do Felix Chev commercials.
Lane made a comment that was taken as racially offensive, and the following week a new annoucer filled the spot.

Rick Farris wrote:

kikibalt wrote:After his boxing career was over, Jimmy Carter was a car salesman at Nick Shmash's (spelling) Felix Chevrolet.

Felix Chevrolet! Bought a lot of TV advertising on Olympic Auditorium events. Boxing-Wrestling-Roller Derby.

Shhhhhh! I used to watch all three....

kikibalt wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:

kikibalt wrote:After his boxing career was over, Jimmy Carter was a car salesman at Nick Shmash's (spelling) Felix Chevrolet.

Felix Chevrolet! Bought a lot of TV advertising on Olympic Auditorium events. Boxing-Wrestling-Roller Derby.

Shhhhhh! I used to watch all three....

Me too!
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The T-Birds & Bobo Brazil . . .

Hey Frank, when I was living in Monterey Park, Ruben Navarro had a nice 2-story, Spanish style home about a mile from my apartment.
Across the street, a couple members of the T-Birds women's team lived.
One was Terry Lynch, and I forget the other's name, but she was well known too.
They were at a party at Ruben's in 1971, as was I, Gil Cadilli, Julio Flores, Bob Seagren, fighters, Ruben's friends.
The two lady roller queens were present, and I remembered watching Terry Lynch throw women off the track, into the audience.
Tough woman! I was more fascinated by her than any of the ex-pugs.
Bob Seagren was also fascinated. Bob grew up in Pomona during the 60's, watched the same things we did.
We also had high profile wrestlers, just as we did boxers. The Olympic provided affordable, world class entertainment.
We got the whole show, from ringside to trackside. Lots of drama. Rigged or not, people got hurt.
The Roller Derby stars were tough.

Reading with interest your thoughts on Carter and Williams.
Ike Williams I met a few times but only had a opportunity to talk to him about his career at any length (20 mins) before getting interrupted by autograph seekers. My father was present and they talked briefly about the old Jersey neighborhoods and arenas they both fought in.
I asked Mr Williams about his championship fights especially the Bolanos fights in 46 &49 and the Dawson fight in 49. He said he beat Bolanos outright for the title in all his Bolanos fights. That Enrique wasnt on his game but Ike felt he was the better man in those match-ups regardless. When I mentioned the Dawson fights, my father interrupted and grabbed my hand-meaning to me, forget about it. Ike instead said it was fine and said that " just some things in the ring are not in your control if they go the distance". He continued " Your dad can tell you, if you leave a fight in the decision to the judges anything can go for you or against you and basically how a fight was fought might not matter at all". I was pretty confused by the answer till my father kind of skirted around it on the way home that night. He said boxing was about money, who, what, when matches are made are all according to who your mgrs want you to fight. Sometimes having rematches are worth more than single fight opponents.
I kinda got his drift.

Many years later, I talked to Joe Miceli about his fights with Williams.My father was not present.(Joe and I worked together in a Defense Contractor Plant on Long Island making the A-10 Thunderbolt in 1981) Next page.

Joe said that his mgr thought that Williams had trouble moving up in weight to welters and Joe stood a good chance at TV money with him. In 1950 and 51 , Joe said that he(Joe) outboxed him and won the first one. The next one,a month later, was a split decision which Joe thinks was the "plan" with the payoff being the rubber match in 51'. He said that it shouldn't had been a split decision but Ike won it and he felt that Ike wasnt fighting as hard as he did in the first one. Joe thought he won that one too. He said same thing-Go the distance and the boys will take care of the money end of it.
Was Ike looking to go the distance ? Split decision here makes it look questionable.
"The rubber match" he said "was suppose to bring in bigger money". But he said they screwed up by moving it to Philly, but Trenton held a fight card that night and he felt it took away from a bigger gate or interest.


I never met Mr Carter, but I cant help feel that Palermo had a firm grip on the entire situation all along. I dont think thats nothing new to you guys. The Davey/ Williams fight was mostly likely a set up but Davey outboxed him.

You guys might like to read "My father,My Don" by Tony Napoli (with Charles Messina) Beckham Press 2008. About Tony's father, James "Jimmy Nap" Napoli -Genovese Family Capo, who controlled gambling in the fight game in New York and East Coast. It's 1/4 boxing and the rest other mafia stuff.
One boxing story in it talks about Carter having to carrying his opponents through the fights for a favorable decision. Interesting stuff if true, and hard to deny its not.

Rick, Teddy Bentham knew Eddie Foy III - famed member of the "Seven Little Foys" ?
Classic Vaudville at its best.

Cheshire heavyweight hope Tyson Fury ticks over in a 10-rounder against Brazil’s obscure if unbeaten Marcelo Luiz Nascimento at York Hall on September 10.
The hulking, loose-fleshed Fury proved his superiority over John McDermott in a Battle of the Bulge in June when he stopped him in nine rounds, having previously won a disputed 10-round decision over the blubbery McDermott. It moved Fury to 11-0 (9) as a pro and at 22, and 6ft 7ins, he is one of those Great White Hopes, if you can say such a thing today.
Frankly, Fury turned pro too young because heavyweights do not mature until their late 20s. Larry Holmes, who made 20 defences of the world heavyweight title, was 29 when he snatched the title from Ken Norton with a sensational 15th round, and it was tears all round at the verdict (Holmes, Norton and even Norton’s sparring partner, Eddie "Bossman" Jones). Ah, those were the days in the 1970s, when the best heavyweights could fight and weighed 215 pounds. Even by today’s standards, Fury is way too heavy at 270 pounds and you wince at the thought of his poundage once he fills out.
Nevertheless, Fury had been knocking them over like skittles prior to his controversial win over McDermott last year, which had Frank Maloney threatening to set Jimmy Flint on the referee, but the 10 rounds brought him on and their subsequent nine rounds will also have done Fury the world of good.
To Luiz Nascimento, who brings over a 'TV' record of 11-0 (9) and a nickname of "The Hammer" but has yet to beat anyone meaningful, and everyone in the world knows that Brazilian men play football and have hot wives and girlfriends and do not fight. As far as my memory works, Miguel De Oliveira remains their only ever world champion, and he was pretty poor.
Fury deserves a soft touch after the McDermott decider and we can expect him to box a bit, punch a bit and force a stoppage as soon as he really gets serious.





Fury gets the verdict, and Maloney is 'off'.

I forgot Jofre above (and the WBO pudding, Freitas), which hurts.

CNorkusJr wrote:Joe said that his mgr thought that Williams had trouble moving up in weight to welters and Joe stood a good chance at TV money with him. In 1950 and 51 , Joe said that he(Joe) outboxed him and won the first one. The next one,a month later, was a split decision which Joe thinks was the "plan" with the payoff being the rubber match in 51'. He said that it shouldn't had been a split decision but Ike won it and he felt that Ike wasnt fighting as hard as he did in the first one. Joe thought he won that one too. He said same thing-Go the distance and the boys will take care of the money end of it.
Was Ike looking to go the distance ? Split decision here makes it look questionable.
"The rubber match" he said "was suppose to bring in bigger money". But he said they screwed up by moving it to Philly, but Trenton held a fight card that night and he felt it took away from a bigger gate or interest.


I never met Mr Carter, but I cant help feel that Palermo had a firm grip on the entire situation all along. I dont think thats nothing new to you guys. The Davey/ Williams fight was mostly likely a set up but Davey outboxed him.

You guys might like to read "My father,My Don" by Tony Napoli (with Charles Messina) Beckham Press 2008. About Tony's father, James "Jimmy Nap" Napoli -Genovese Family Capo, who controlled gambling in the fight game in New York and East Coast. It's 1/4 boxing and the rest other mafia stuff.
One boxing story in it talks about Carter having to carrying his opponents through the fights for a favorable decision. Interesting stuff if true, and hard to deny its not.

Rick, Teddy Bentham knew Eddie Foy III - famed member of the "Seven Little Foys" ?
Classic Vaudville at its best.

Thanks, Charlie. I'd heard the name but didn't know what they were famous for.
Teddy told us he was staying with Eddie Foy III, who lived in a modest home in Van Nuys.
Teddy died in that home. He left the gym one friday night and didn't show up for a couple of days.
He must have been staying at the home alone at the time, because when his body was found he'd been dead a couple days.

I'll order that book.

According to the boxrec schedule, Amir Khan defends his WBA light-welterweight title against Marcos Maidana on December 11 in this country, which makes you sit back.
The brilliant-boxing Khan has consigned himself to a succession of non-punchers since he was blasted in under a minute by Colombian puncher Breidis Prescott in his native Lancashire two years ago, so a fight with the huge-punching Maidana never looked likely and one could even picture Khan’s American trainer Freddie Roach spouting one cynical excuse after another. However, Khan’s first mooted opponent for December was Mexico’s silky skilled Juan Manuel Marquez, who is now chasing a third showdown with Filipino great Manny Pacquiao, which does make sense. Maybe, just maybe, Khan really is going to risk his chin again.
Maidana was narrowly outscored by Ukrainian stylist Andreas Kotelnik early last year in a first crack at the WBA title, and Khan proceeded to dazzle the same man for the same title. However, styles make fights. Khan has the ability to outbox anyone who cannot bang, and Kotelnik falls into that category, but can he outbox the punchers? Prescott jumped on him and dumped him twice before it was halted. It could have been stopped after the first knockdown, given the way Khan fell, his whole body limp. Khan showed guts to beat the count but you knew he was never going to get through the round. Prescott hurt him every time he hit him.
Interestingly, the quick knockouts are not the damaging defeats in boxing, the wear-you-down stoppages do far more damage, which is why Khan was able to come back swiftly and shrewdly with a cuts win over Marcos Antonio Barrera and then a clear decision over Kotelnik in July last year. It meant the 23-year-old Bolton boy was crowned world champion less than a year after Prescott, who has done nothing by comparison. It was some transformation.
Khan, 23-1 (17), has since retained the belt against two Brooklyn kids who cannot break an egg, and Maidana is overdue a crack because he holds the WBA interim title, which to you and me, if not to the man in the street, makes him the mandatory challenger. The 27-year-old Argentine earned his position last year when he climbed off the floor to bust up and stop "Vicious" Victor Ortiz in six thrilling rounds in Los Angeles. Maidana used a big right hand to get himself out of jail but it was shaky stuff and one gets the distinct impression that Team Ortiz, who also happen to be Team Khan, was trying to bump off Maidana in his US debut. They failed, and Maidana, 28-1 (27), has since won two more fights in less troublesome fashion, including a six-round knockout of the previously unbeaten Victor Manuel Cayo in Las Vegas earlier this year. Team Khan was running out of places to hide.
The only man to take stocky Marcos the distance, incidentally, is his fellow countryman Daniel Carriqueo in a six-rounder back in 2005. The challenger’s last 18 wins have come by knockout or stoppages, 14 of them inside three rounds. While we shouldn’t overlook the fact that Khan, a huge light-welterweight, can whack a bit himself, which is a point worth making after Maidana-Ortiz, and is much the better boxer of the two, much the quicker, this showdown all boils down to Khan’s chin and how well he takes Maidana’s blows.
Of course, a lot can happen between now and December and Khan-Maidana sounds almost too good to be true, but surely Khan has to face a puncher one day, so why not sooner rather than later. It would certainly earn him much-needed respect here.

The Seven Little Foys

http://travsd.wordpress.com/2010/03/09/ ... oy-of-all/

(From June 23, 1969 issue of New York Magazine)
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The Great White Hope
by Pete Hamill


There has always been a racial and ethnic undertone to boxing, and for a guy like Jerry Quarry, a white heavyweight with an Irish background, to come to New York now is a fight promoter's dream.

"It's up to you, Jeff, to save the white race."—Jack London to James J. Jeffries on the eve of Jeffries' fight with Jack Johnson in 1910.

In the ski lodge at Grossinger's, a tall, lanky sparring partner named Alan Boursse played listlessly with a speed bag. He slapped it gently, listening to the sound echoing around the room, then ripped off a barrage of punches, then grabbed it in his hands to quiet it and walked away to look out into the gray afternoon at the workmen repairing the ski slope in the distance. The audience watched him the way people watch the inhabitants of zoos.

"This is a fine young boxer, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer was saying. "He will be boxing today with the next heavyweight champion of the world!"

About ten after three, the man who might be the next heavyweight champion of the world walked briskly into the large room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Jerry Quarry has now arrived," the pitchman said. "Jerry Quarry, who fights Joe Frazier for the title on June 23 at Madison Square Garden! He'll begin boxing shortly."

Jerry Quarry was dressed in natty gray sharkskin trousers, a cobalt-blue shirt and white shoes, and he looked like all those young men in Southern California who don't take drugs or wear their hair long or go off to Berkeley. The dark blond hair was combed straight back, with long sideburns, and you were sure that a few years ago he wore a ducktail. The face itself had that rugged blockiness you see a lot in California: straight short nose, good jaw, neat ears; only Quarry's eyes had that peculiar maturity that comes with the acceptance of pain. He nodded and disappeared into the dressing room.

After awhile, Quarry returned and hopped into the ring. He was wearing green trunks and white boxing shoes, and he started to move briskly around the ring, flicking his bandaged hands at the air. The hard body was tanned and trim, and he twisted it and stretched it, the hands always moving, describing patterns of punches, the jab whipping straight out, the right hand jamming behind it, the short flat hook whipping horizontally across Quarry's own chin-line. The audience seemed hypnotized.

Then Quarry went over to the side of the ring, where his trainer Teddy Bentham smeared Vaseline on his face and laced on a pair of 10-ounce red boxing gloves. Boursse came into the ring, his face masked by headgear. Quarry did not wear headgear, and you could see the blanched look on the face of John Condon, the Garden public relations man. Quarry's fight with Frazier is the hottest prizefight of the year; the Garden might be sold out, and if it is, the live gate alone could be $750,000, with another million coming from closed-circuit television. If Quarry were cut in training it would cost someone a lot of money. But Quarry is a fighter, and the real fighters don't really care much for headgear.
Bentham shouted, "Time!" and the fighters moved at each other. Quarry jabbed, threw a vicious hook to Boursse's side, and then brought the hook up to the head. Boursse held, and Quarry pushed him off and went at him again. For two rounds it went that way: Quarry pursuing, Boursse retreating, and Quarry landing thunderous body punches.

Once, in a corner, he made a move that the good ones take a long time to learn: he threw a left hook-right hand to the body. Most fighters stop at that point and hold on, or come up with swinging hooks to the head. Quarry leaned in, as if to hold Boursse, then stepped back an inch and ripped off a tight fierce uppercut that went between Boursse's gloves to the chin.

"He hits Frazier with that punch, Frazier goes," said Bentham, a small, intelligent man who went to St. Anthony's School in the Village and now lives in L.A. "That is a sweet punch."

Watching Quarry work, I realized suddenly why I was as transfixed by the exhibition as the audience was. Quarry was white. And he was good. I've been around fighters and training camps most of my life, but those camps have always involved black men or Puerto Ricans: Jose Torres, Floyd Patterson, Sonny Liston, Muhammad Ali, Emile Griffith, others. With the exception of Joey Archer, most of the white fighters of my time have been imports like Nino Benvenuti, or Ingemar Johansson, or flabby, out-of-shape dockworkers looking for paydays, or stiffs who can't fight. The training camps had peculiar, special atmospheres: paranoid (Muhammad Ali), Spartan (Floyd Patterson), rowdy and boisterous (Torres). They never looked like the training camps in the movies. Quarry's camp did.

Today on the set of "Desperate Housewives" . . .
By Rick Farris



Vanessa Williams and Eva Longoria Parker, moments before the camera rolls.
Nothing I enjoy more than lighting beautiful women.
These two were in every shot we filmed today.

Now in it's 7th season, Desperate Housewives is the most watched TV series in the world.
It's broadcast across the world in dozens of languages.
Vanessa Williams is the newest member of the cast.
I shot the photo with my cell phone, from a bad angle.
I wish you could see how good they looked thru the lens of our Panavision 35mm cameras.

Las Piscas
1947
Part 1

By Frank Baltazar

Juan, was told by his dad that they were going up north to work the piscas, Juan was eleven years old, and he was looking toward what he thought would be an adventure, since he had never being out of the Los Angeles barrio he lived in, he was ready to go see the world.

“Pops, when are we going?
“As soon as Manuel fixes his truck, mijo”
Juan was so happy to get out of the barrio, he ran to tell all his friends.
“Guys, we, the whole family are going up north to work the piscas” he said to his friends
“What are the piscas?” ask Chuy.
“I don't know, my dad just said the piscas” said Juan.

Two days after Manuel had finish fixing his truck, he told Juan's dad, Jose, that it was time to go up north.
“ Pack only what's necessary, Jose, don't want to put too much weight on this old truck” said Manuel to Jose.
Pack and ready to go, Manuel told his wife, Lupe, son, Tony and daughter Maria, to help Jose, his wife, Elsa, Juan and Juan's two younger brothers and sister, Rudy, Luis and Rosa to pack.

On the Road

With Elsa, Lupe and the kids riding in the back of the truck they headed north on Highway 99. Elsa and Lupe packed some burritos before they left the barrio so they could eat as they went up the Ridge Route, after eating, the kids happy to be out of the barrio sang songs they learned from the their parents.

The 1938 Ford flat bed truck with side panels was running good as they pull into a gas station in Bakersfield.
“Okay everybody; use the restrooms as I gas up, Jose, can you check the oil?” said Manuel.
Back on the road Manuel says to Jose, “The oil company's are robbing us, can you imagine fifteen cents for a gallon of gas?”
“And ten cents for a quart of oil” said Jose.
“We better make lots of money in the piscas” both said in unity.

Juan pulls the hair on his six year old sister, Rosa, making her cry.
“Juan, leave Rosa along, just wait until we stop again, you are going to be sorry” said Juan's mother Elsa.
“ Mom, I'm not doing nothing to her, she is just a cry baby” said Juan to his mother.
“Don't believe him, mom, he is pulling her hair” said Juan's seven year old brother Luis.
Juan punches Luis in the arm, now Luis is crying'
“Cabron!, just wait!, I'm going to give you some chingasos when we stop!” said Elsa.
They stop in Fresno. Juan jumps of the truck trying to hide from Elsa, but Elsa gets him by the ear and as she pulls on his ear she yells at him “cabron!; I told you to leave your brother and sister along, now cabron; behave yourself”.
“But, mom, I'm bored, are we almost at piscas” said Juan.
“Piscas is not a place, “piscas” is work” said Elsa.
“What ever, are we almost there?”.
“No, now just behave yourself, be good like Manuel's kids.
As Elsa said that Tony pulls Maria's hair, now Maria is crying
“A la chingada!, these kids are going to drive me to drinking; compa, lets have a beer” Jose said to Manuel.
“You start drinking and you are getting some chingasos” said Elsa to Jose
Back on the road without drinking a beer Manuel said to Jose “ you're afraid of your vieja, Jose”
“No, I'm not afraid of her, I just let her think that I am, that way we keep the peace”


North of Madera, Ca. The families head west on California State Route 152, stopping in the small town of Los Banos for gas and to use the restrooms. After resting a bit they get back on the road, go over the Pacheco Pass straight to U.S. 101, north to San Jose, arriving at a apricot ranch that was waiting for them.

Las Piscas

Since apricots grow on trees only Jose and Manuel could worked picking them, Lupe and Elsa worked at a place where the apricots were cut in half and put out to dry.
Once the apricot harvest was done, they went south to Hollister, Ca., to pick plums, they quickly found work at a ranch, where all the kids would be able to work, from the oldest to the youngest, they would get down on their knees and pick the plums of the ground, from sun up to sun down they worked.

In the mornings as the kids worked, they could see woodpeckers pecking on the trees, something they had never seen before.

Juan's brother, Rudy, wanted his pop to buy him a bike when they got back home, but he didn't like working, he would fall asleep under the trees.
“Pop, look at Rudy, he's asleep and he wants you to buy him a bike” Juan would say to his father.
“Well, he is not getting a bike if he don't work” Jose would say.

“Vieja, get the burritos, I'm going to light a fire so we can warm them up. Juan, right after we eat, you check the boxes and make sure they have our number, we don't want to get cheated, we work too hard for that, now wake Rudy up and tell him its time to eat” Jose said to Juan and Lupe.
After lunch it was back to work til sun down.

With dinner done, it was time to relax a bit. The men would built a fire , play their guitars and sing, drink a beer or two. twelve year old Tony, Manuel's son was a favorite of the men, because he could sing like Pedro Infante, Tony and his eight year old sister, Maria, would sing duets for the men.
“Tony, sing some songs that we can dance to” ask Manuel of Tony
“Lets dance” Manuel say to Lupe as Tony starts singing a corrido.
Before you knew it the adults were all dancing, the teenagers were drifting of to hide behind the trees and do what teenagers do.

Sundays were a day of rest, Jose and Manuel would take their families to church, after church they would go into town, do a little shopping, get something to eat.
They would get back to the ranch early so that everybody could rest for the next day's hard work.

Time went by fast and the harvesting was almost done, soon it would be time to go back to Los Angeles, Jose and Manuel would go back to work in the glass factory that they had left behind, the kids would all go back to school. But first Manuel had to fix the rear axle on the truck
“Pinche axle, picked a fine time to break” said Manuel to Jose
“Watch your mouth , Manuel, that's no way to talk in front of the kids” said Lupe to Manuel.
“Si, Manuel, watch your mouth or your vieja will lay some chingasos on you” laughed Jose.
“Lets show these pinche viejas we are not afraid of them, go get some beers, Jose” said Manuel.
The truck didn't get fixed that day.

Finally the day came to head back home. Harvesting was finish, the truck was fix. Manuel and Jose went to see the boss to get paid, after deducting what they owed the general store, the boss paid Manuel and Jose, $1,450.00, $1,600.00, respectively.

Packed and ready to head home Manuel helps Lupe onto the back of the truck.
“Ai vieja!, with all this work I thought you would lose some weight, instead it looks like your love handles got a bit more rounder, que no?”
“I wouldn't talk if I was you, cabron, look at your beer belly” shot back Lupe.
Jose is looking at Elsa.
“You better not say a word, Jose” said Elsa.
“I'm not saying anything vieja” said Jose as he turned around and mumble to himself 'but you did gain some weight too'

Heading Home

It was decided by Manuel and Jose to take U.S. 101 south instead of Highway 99. Heading west out of Hollister, they stopped to check out the mission in San Juan Bautista.
“You ladies look around, Jose and I are going this way” said Manuel to the viejas.
“Where are we going?”, Jose, wanted to know.
“To Taste some vino, Jose, to taste some vino!, but don't let the viejas know ”
As they got to the wine tasting room, Lupe and Elsa are waiting for them.
“What took you so long?” Lupe and Elsa said in unity as they laughed.
“Lets taste some vino and you can buy me a bottle, so Lupe and I can drink it while we ride in the back of the truck” Elsa says to Jose as she takes him by the hand and leads him to the testing room.

Back on the road after buying a couple of bottles of wine, they head south, stopping in King City to buy something to eat. After eating, Elsa brings out a bottle of vino and says to Lupe.
“Look what I got here”
“What are you waiting for, open it, we'll show our viejo's we can drink too” said Lupe. After a couple of glasses of wine Lupe and Elsa are feeling happy.
“Tony, get the guitar, sing some songs,” said his mother, as the truck rolls down the highway, Lupe and Elsa feeling the wine join in singing old Mexican songs.
Jose looks out the window and yells at Lupe and Elsa.
“You viejas drunk?”.
“No, viejo, just feeling happy” said Elsa.
Now, it was Lupe who brings out a bottle.
“Want some more, Elsa?”
“Why not? open it”.
By the time they stopped in Paso Robles, Elsa and Lupe were drunk, but feeling happy.

After gassing up and using the restrooms, they were back on the road, Elsa and Lupe had just fallen asleep when the truck started making a loud noise, Manuel pulled the truck over to the side of the road to see what was wrong.
“I think its the axle again”, Said Manuel after taking a look.
“I can fix it, I have some extra parts, but it will take some time, a day or more, we will have to camp here tonight” said Manuel.
“Do we get to sleep under the star's, daddy? Ask Manuel's eight year old daughter, Maria.
“Si, mija, we get to sleep under the star's”
“Lupe, we are going to have to cook dinner here, so get the small gas stove that I brought from LA, good thing I bought some gas for it too” said Manuel
While Manuel and Jose worked on the truck and Lupe and Elsa cook dinner, the kids are playing on the hills along side of the highway, nine year old Rudy climbed up a hill, as he starts coming down the hill, he couldn't control his momentum and ran head-on into a hollow oak tree at the bottom of the hill.

By the time they were done with dinner it was dark, to dark to work on the truck, so they all sat around in a circle and with Tony playing the guitar sung songs.

Late the next day the truck was fixed and ready to go, with all aboard they started down the highway, rolled into Santa Barbara just before dark and decide to spent the night on the beach. Next day everybody went swimming before they started on the last leg of their trip home.

Back in the barrio, Jose and Manuel went back to work at the glass factory, the kids went back to school, Lupe and Elsa went back to keeping house.
Rudy got his bike

A month later the families got together for carne asada, guacamole, hot salsa, arroz and home made tortillas and to talk about their adventure at the piscas.
“Jose, think you would want to go again?” asked Manuel
“Si, if its okay with the vieja, I would like to go again”
Si, it would be okay, but not for two-three years” said Elsa, with Lupe agreeing.


To be continue

Frank, looking forward to the next chapter.

Rick Farris wrote:Frank, looking forward to the next chapter.

Going to take 2-3 days off before I start chapter 2....

Thanks Frank for the 7 Little Foys post. My firehouse was in the heart of Times Square, but I preferred to tell friends that it was in the heart of the "Theatre District". Either way, the location is the same.
The old Palace Theatre still stands with a Doubletree Hotel erected over it buying its "Air" rights over it years ago. Also standing is the Old "Amsterdam Theatre" on 42 St. That was the home of the famed Ziegfield Follies.
The Amsterdam Theatre is now renovated over by The Disney Corp and now is home to the "Lion King" Musical.
As a Firefighter, I had privvy (along with the others I work with) to inspect numerous times both bldgs over the last 25 years. We went way behind the scenes up front to the depth of the bowels of both great theatres. Ziegfield had a 2nd showroom upstairs where he held "Private parties" with 200 guests and his showgirls. That room still exists on floors above the original stage.
On both, the Ziegfield Theatre Dressing room walls on the upper floors and the Palace theatre (before the total renovation there) were etched into the walls (done with a knife I guess) were the names of the 7 Little Foys and other Vaudville Acts from the day.There had to be hundreds of names etched into the walls including Crosby and Hope,Abbott & Costello. We marveled at it with little fanfare.Today-maybe it exist or maybe it doesnt, but Disney should have removed it in its totallity and placed it in the Smithsonian.
An old-timer in our firehouse told us about who these names belonged to and their famous vaudville acts.
I dont miss the fires anymore. Or playing with the siren and Bell. But it was these moments that were a true pleasure of being a part of Old New York and bear witness to such things.

Frank and Rick, I love those stories. The vividness always gets me. Also, Rick that is an awesome pic. Were they reading each other lines or were they fanning themselves? They look hot - I mean, of course they look friggin hot - but they also look a bit warm.

Scartissue

scartissue wrote:Frank and Rick, I love those stories. The vividness always gets me. Also, Rick that is an awesome pic. Were they reading each other lines or were they fanning themselves? They look hot - I mean, of course they look friggin hot - but they also look a bit warm.

Scartissue

Dan, they were fanning themselves. We shooting inside one of the house sets located on a hillside on Universal Studios "Colonial Street", which serves as Wysteria Lane. It was a dry 108 degrees yesterday afternoon when I snapped the photo. Although we have air conditioning pumped into the set, it still gets pretty warm when the lights are burning.

CNorkusJr wrote:Thanks Frank for the 7 Little Foys post. My firehouse was in the heart of Times Square, but I preferred to tell friends that it was in the heart of the "Theatre District". Either way, the location is the same.
The old Palace Theatre still stands with a Doubletree Hotel erected over it buying its "Air" rights over it years ago. Also standing is the Old "Amsterdam Theatre" on 42 St. That was the home of the famed Ziegfield Follies.
The Amsterdam Theatre is now renovated over by The Disney Corp and now is home to the "Lion King" Musical.
As a Firefighter, I had privvy (along with the others I work with) to inspect numerous times both bldgs over the last 25 years. We went way behind the scenes up front to the depth of the bowels of both great theatres. Ziegfield had a 2nd showroom upstairs where he held "Private parties" with 200 guests and his showgirls. That room still exists on floors above the original stage.
On both, the Ziegfield Theatre Dressing room walls on the upper floors and the Palace theatre (before the total renovation there) were etched into the walls (done with a knife I guess) were the names of the 7 Little Foys and other Vaudville Acts from the day.There had to be hundreds of names etched into the walls including Crosby and Hope,Abbott & Costello. We marveled at it with little fanfare.Today-maybe it exist or maybe it doesnt, but Disney should have removed it in its totallity and placed it in the Smithsonian.
An old-timer in our firehouse told us about who these names belonged to and their famous vaudville acts.
I dont miss the fires anymore. Or playing with the siren and Bell. But it was these moments that were a true pleasure of being a part of Old New York and bear witness to such things.

Charlie, thanks for the history on N.Y.'s Theatre District. I like that type thing, and like you, we also get into some places that the public does not see. Very interesting!

Don't mess with Antoine Dodson! Check this guy out:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IoLHtzHvyQk

Former WBO featherweight champ Steve Robinson with trainer Ronnie Rush and the late, great Howard Winstone.

Rick,
Great article, so well written, insiteful, down right enjoyable, does anyone actually write like this anymore?
Thanks for posting it.
Bruce

Rick Farris wrote:(From June 23, 1969 issue of New York Magazine)
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The Great White Hope
by Pete Hamill


There has always been a racial and ethnic undertone to boxing, and for a guy like Jerry Quarry, a white heavyweight with an Irish background, to come to New York now is a fight promoter's dream.

"It's up to you, Jeff, to save the white race."—Jack London to James J. Jeffries on the eve of Jeffries' fight with Jack Johnson in 1910.

In the ski lodge at Grossinger's, a tall, lanky sparring partner named Alan Boursse played listlessly with a speed bag. He slapped it gently, listening to the sound echoing around the room, then ripped off a barrage of punches, then grabbed it in his hands to quiet it and walked away to look out into the gray afternoon at the workmen repairing the ski slope in the distance. The audience watched him the way people watch the inhabitants of zoos.

"This is a fine young boxer, ladies and gentlemen," the announcer was saying. "He will be boxing today with the next heavyweight champion of the world!"

About ten after three, the man who might be the next heavyweight champion of the world walked briskly into the large room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Jerry Quarry has now arrived," the pitchman said. "Jerry Quarry, who fights Joe Frazier for the title on June 23 at Madison Square Garden! He'll begin boxing shortly."

Jerry Quarry was dressed in natty gray sharkskin trousers, a cobalt-blue shirt and white shoes, and he looked like all those young men in Southern California who don't take drugs or wear their hair long or go off to Berkeley. The dark blond hair was combed straight back, with long sideburns, and you were sure that a few years ago he wore a ducktail. The face itself had that rugged blockiness you see a lot in California: straight short nose, good jaw, neat ears; only Quarry's eyes had that peculiar maturity that comes with the acceptance of pain. He nodded and disappeared into the dressing room.

After awhile, Quarry returned and hopped into the ring. He was wearing green trunks and white boxing shoes, and he started to move briskly around the ring, flicking his bandaged hands at the air. The hard body was tanned and trim, and he twisted it and stretched it, the hands always moving, describing patterns of punches, the jab whipping straight out, the right hand jamming behind it, the short flat hook whipping horizontally across Quarry's own chin-line. The audience seemed hypnotized.

Then Quarry went over to the side of the ring, where his trainer Teddy Bentham smeared Vaseline on his face and laced on a pair of 10-ounce red boxing gloves. Boursse came into the ring, his face masked by headgear. Quarry did not wear headgear, and you could see the blanched look on the face of John Condon, the Garden public relations man. Quarry's fight with Frazier is the hottest prizefight of the year; the Garden might be sold out, and if it is, the live gate alone could be $750,000, with another million coming from closed-circuit television. If Quarry were cut in training it would cost someone a lot of money. But Quarry is a fighter, and the real fighters don't really care much for headgear.
Bentham shouted, "Time!" and the fighters moved at each other. Quarry jabbed, threw a vicious hook to Boursse's side, and then brought the hook up to the head. Boursse held, and Quarry pushed him off and went at him again. For two rounds it went that way: Quarry pursuing, Boursse retreating, and Quarry landing thunderous body punches.

Once, in a corner, he made a move that the good ones take a long time to learn: he threw a left hook-right hand to the body. Most fighters stop at that point and hold on, or come up with swinging hooks to the head. Quarry leaned in, as if to hold Boursse, then stepped back an inch and ripped off a tight fierce uppercut that went between Boursse's gloves to the chin.

"He hits Frazier with that punch, Frazier goes," said Bentham, a small, intelligent man who went to St. Anthony's School in the Village and now lives in L.A. "That is a sweet punch."

Watching Quarry work, I realized suddenly why I was as transfixed by the exhibition as the audience was. Quarry was white. And he was good. I've been around fighters and training camps most of my life, but those camps have always involved black men or Puerto Ricans: Jose Torres, Floyd Patterson, Sonny Liston, Muhammad Ali, Emile Griffith, others. With the exception of Joey Archer, most of the white fighters of my time have been imports like Nino Benvenuti, or Ingemar Johansson, or flabby, out-of-shape dockworkers looking for paydays, or stiffs who can't fight. The training camps had peculiar, special atmospheres: paranoid (Muhammad Ali), Spartan (Floyd Patterson), rowdy and boisterous (Torres). They never looked like the training camps in the movies. Quarry's camp did.

Stuttering middleweight prospect Andy Lee takes on American trier Michael Walker in a 10-rounder in Chicago on September 17.
Lee, a former Olympian trained by Emanuel Steward, with Joey Gamache and even Angelo Dundee occasionally chipping in, is a heavy handed, charismatic Irishman based largely in the States, where heavy handed, charismatic Irishmen draw big crowds – think of Gerry Cooney. However, he is rebuilding, having already been built up once, in the wake of a seven-round pounding at the hands of tough Texan Brian Vera in the States in March 2008, which took away his 15-fight unbeaten record. Lee actually started well that night but couldn’t put Vera away and quickly ran out of ideas as he busted up and shipped too many right hands. Worryingly, the big Limerick man showed a lack of boxing instinct, never looking to claim the stocky, aggressive Vera under fire. It was Duane Bobick against Ken Norton all over again.
Since then, southpaw Lee has reeled off seven wins to take his record to 22-1 (16) but something seems to have left the 26-year-old, almost as if Vera 'broke' him. Nevertheless, nice guy Andy is still beating opponents and scored an unpleasant five-round knockout of Missouri’s overmatched James Cook last month in Oklahoma. Cook spent some time on the canvas after a brutal body assault.
Next up is Walker, a Chicago 32-year-old with decent enough stats at 19-4-2 (12), but the stats don’t tell you that he has lost his last three, four of his last five and was stopped for the first time in his career by the unbeaten Fernando Guerrero in his most recent outing in April. Now is a great time to fight a man who holds a 2008 points win over bullet-ridden Antwun Echols. Lee is sharp and ready to go, after the Cook massacre, whereas Walker has fought infrequently over the last few years. The 10 rounds, for him, looks optimistic.
Lee takes him out early.