BoxRec

Rick Farris wrote:

Cholo wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:Amir Khan?
It will take a lot more than Freddie Roach to make this guy a complete boxer.

Rick, I'd have liked to have seen the original "Golden Boy" hang one on him, goodnight Khan....

That would be like shooting a mouse with a shotgun.

Rick Farris wrote:How good was Gil Cadilli?

To give you an idea, the great Willie Pep had 241 pro fights, and lost only 11 times.
One of those losses was to Gil Cadilli.

Rick Farris wrote:A Mando Ramos memory
June, 2008


CBS Studio Center/ Stage-9 . . .

The cast and crew of A&E's new one hour drama series, "The Cleaner", had broken for lunch.
Actor Benjamin Bratt's wife has stopped in to eat with her husband, and the TV series' Executuve Producer/Creator, Warren Boyd.
in real life, Boyd is known as "The Cleaner", a guy who has literally kidnapped celebs and others and pushed them into rehab, forcing them to confront their demons.
Whitney Houston credits Warren for helping her stay clean and sober, and stopped by to visit her friend one day as we were filming.
Every tuesday evening at 9pm. A&E would broadcast "The Cleaner", and Ben Bratt would portray Boyd's real life charactor, but as William Banks.

Both the actor and producer were boxing fans, and both knew of my background and involvment in boxing.
After lunch, as the crew returned to the set Warren approaches me and expresses an interest in writing a boxing oriented episode.
Naturally, it would involve a boxer suffering from sort of substance abuse problem, and asked if I might have anything to contribute, stories of boxer's I knew who suffered from the disease of addiction.

I told Warren of one of the biggest stars of my era who lost everything to his lifestyle, and that was Mando Ramos.
Ramos was the youngest lightweight champ in history, and he held the title twice before he was 22.
He listened and we discussed Mando for more than an hour. I asked, "Why don't you say hello to him? I can call him right now."
Ironically, Mando had called a couple days earlier, asking what I was working on and if he could visit the set?
He would do so on occasion, if I felt the cast and crew would know and appreciate him.

This one was perfect, at least a dozen guys on "The Cleaner" crew who had seen Mando fight, and they told the younger guys just how big Mando was.
Benjamin Bratt was too young to have seen Mando in action, so I showed he and Warren the Sugar Ramos fight in Warren's office.
Mando always got special treatment when he visited one of the sets I was working on.
He'd meet the actors, director, sometimes use his SAG card and be an extra, so long as he could sit down.
They would put him on camera, no lines, our craft service lady would make him sandwichs, bring him whatever he wanted to drink.
Mando Ramos, the youngest lightweight champ in history, loved the attention, and he'd earned it. He was the center of attention again.

Warren talked with Mando for ten minutes, and invited he and his wife Sylvia to join us at the studio for lunch, and to talk about a boxing episode.
I told Warren I thought it would be great if Mando could make a cameo, say a few words, he lives the recovery program, has 25 years clean.
Boyd loved the idea. I was pleased myself, a win-win situation for all, and I can help put it together.
Mando said he would be available on thursday of the next week, and I set it up for Rodlolfo "El Gato" Gonzalez to come also.
Warren Boyd was intrigued with El Gato, a former world champ who had scored more consecutive KO's than any other champ, ever.

On the following thursday, I get a phone call from Rodolfo Gonzalez. "Mando can't come, he's not feeling well," said the former WBC lightweight champion.
I knew Mando must really be sick because he thrived on the energy of the entertainment industry, something he was once a part of. Sports, movies, music, it's all the same.
I called to see how Mando was doing and Sylvia said he hadn't been feeling well and was sleeping. I told her I'd call back later.

Rodolfo Gonzalez came alone and had lunch with Warren Boyd and Benlamin Bratt that day. Boyd picked El Gato's brain for several hours and invited him back.
Everybody on the set enjoyed El Gato, and a boxing episode would be produced in the second season.
Rodolfo Gonzalez made a good connection, but it was Mando who had a connection with subject matter of the production.
Warren still wanted to meet Mando, whenever he felt better. The producer liked the idea and was going to make it happen.

A few days later I get a phone call from El Gato, his voice is down.
"Rick, did you hear the news yet? Mando Ramos passed away, a few hours ago."

That one hit me right on the chin.
Mando Ramos was gone. 59-years-old.

My partner, Dan Hanley, and I were the last to interview Mando Ramos on camera.
Mando laughed and fun telling his story that day. We had fun with Mando, he was the center of attention once again, nothing new.
That was less than six months before his death.

I miss talking with Mando, we both used to say what we thought, and we didn't always agree.
Everytime we spoke, he shared something. He would repeat himself often, and that was good for me because I didn't have to take notes.
I listened to Mando reardless if I knew what he was going to say, because he always spoke with passion and believed in what he was saying.

Sylvia Ramos was Mando's angel, she was the love of his life, his best friend, his partner, his savior. "We are connected at the hip!" he used to say with a smile.
When I returned to L.A. from Arizona a few years back, I spent some time with Mando and Sylvia. I got to know the former world champ better than ever.
I didn't really know Mando back in days we were fighting, but I had fought on the undercard of one of his big fights once, and he recognized me.
We had mutual friends, one being "Irish" Frankie Crawford, with whom Mando shared major history. Some of the greatest stories I have ever seen or heard.

You can bet I knew who Mando was, I'd followed him from his second pro fight, just days affter his 17th birthday.
In that one a skinny, boyish looking Mando flattened Berlin Roberts in just 18 seconds. The fight was televised from the Olympic. A star was born
I was around boxing in L.A. during Mando's years, and I'd later write my memories of Mando in one of my earliest stories.
Mando was on-line, and he read the story. I was contacted by my editor who told me Mando was trying to reach me. We soon hooked up, and I have to say it was interesting.

Sylvia told me she never heard two people use such foul language as Mando and I when we'd argue.
Mando could be arrogant, and once I had the feeling he was talking down to me, so I told him "Go F--- yourself!"
Mando looked at me as he'd do when he wanted to make a point, he'd raise his eye brows, open his eyes wide and lean in, "No, you go F--- yourself!"
We'd go back and forth for awhile, and he realized I wasn't afraid.
Mando Ramos could have kicked my ass thirty years earlier, but that was then and this is now. Mando walked with a cane, I still did a boxers workout.
Unless he cracked me over the head with his cane when I wasn't looking, he wasn't going to hurt me.
And besides, he knew he was wrong. We'd always end up laughing, and he'd say, "When are you going to write my book?"

That's the one thing I know he wanted, and he told me more than once, he wanted me to write his book.
At the moment I've got another story to complete, and then I shall focus on Mando.



-Rick Farris

Randyman wrote:Growing Up On Charlesworth Street

I was born in Boyle Heights at the White Memorial Hospital on Brooklyn Avenue. My father, who was originally from Las Cruces, New Mexico, came of age in Maravilla, an East Los Angeles barrio. My mother was from Boyle Heights, growing up on Soto Street. They lived for a while with my uncle Jimmy De La O, renting a small back house on my uncle's property on Arizona Street before buying their home in Santa Fe Springs, a little further east but still in L.A. county. The house they bought was on Charlesworth Street. The house sat near the bottom of small hill, two house from the corner. At the top of the hill, behind the row of houses were the oil derricks. Santa Fe Springs was filled with them.

The guys I grew up with were Georgie Nava, Manuel Azarte, and a few other guys whose last names I no longer recall; Rudy, Oscar and up near the top of the block lived Ricky. Some of the guys had older brothers. Squeaky was Manuel's older brother. He was about six or seven years older then us. Georgie's older brother was Charlie Nava. Across the street lived the Romo family. the youngest son was about two years younger than me, the older brothers, Bennie and Frankie were in high school. Next to the Romo's were the Delgado's, my cousins. It was not an easy place to grow up. If we weren't fighting with each other, we were fighting or having rock fights with the block behind us.

Charlie Nava was a Pachucho, not quite the Pachuco's of the 1940's, the Zootsuiter's. They were what would later be called Cholos. The older guys were attached to nearby barrio Canta Ranas (Singing frogs), Charlie seemed to be te main guy. He was known as a pretty good fighter. Squeaky on the other hand was a bully. Whenever Manuel and I got in a fight, Squeaky would come looking for me. There was no escaping it. It just got to be a regular routine. I beat up Manuel, Squeaky beat me up. Often times, their sister would join Squeaky in kicking my ass. If they did a really good job on me I would find Manuel the next day and the whole thing would start over again. It was a vicious cycle.

Every once in a while, Charlie and his friends would get a wild hair up their arse and decide that Georgie, Rudy and I were going to fight a "Round Robin". Both Georgie and Rudy were one year older than me. I must have been about five or six when this was going on. They would form a circle around us, and then eventually, two of us would start fighting, sometimes through tears. We hated it. We were best friends but at that age we really didn't have much choice, so we fought.. I could take Georgie but not Rudy, Georgie could take Rudy but not me and Rudy could take me but not Georgie. This went on for a couple of years. Even with all that we still managed to remain friends.

At about the same time frame, a new family moved into the block, they were immigrants of some type, Germans, if I remember correctly. The entire family were bunch of a..holes. There was a boy in the family that was two grades above me. His name was Steve. He was a classic bully. He picked on us whenever he had the chance, which was everyday. He made no attempt to become friends with any of the other guys on the block. I hated him. His father was the same way. My father didn't like him ad they clashed a few times.

One day we were playing baseball in the street. We were having a good time but it was too much for Steve and his father. They were watching us from their front porch. Steve jumped on his bike and rode right into the middle of the game, kicking everyone and anyone, including me, and ruining the game. His father was laughing the entire time this was going on. Over on my side of the street my father was sitting in his car with a few friends from the neighborhood, they were drinking. Most of the men were old friends from East L.A., so they were a tight knit group. My father saw what was going on and when he saw me walk back toward the house he jumped out of the car and asked me "Where are you going?" I answered back "I'm going home". He looked me right square in the eye and told me to go back there and stand up for myself. I knew there was no point in arguing with my dad, not in this type of situation. So I walked back to where we were playing ball. Steve rode over toward me and stuck his foot out to kick me. this time I grabbed his leg and pulled him off the bike. he landed hard on his back and I jumped right on top of him and just let go of my punches, He was crying like a baby. His father jumped off the porch and started yelling at me to get off of his son. My father walked toward him, with his right extended arm out and pointing his index finger at him. He said " Leave them alone and let them settle it by themselves, you thought it was funny a minute ago". The guy thought about it for a second but kept his mouth shut. I let Steve up and he ran home crying. He never bothered us again. It wasn''t too long after that Steve and his family moved away.


When I lived on that block I got in a fight just about every day. It was a tough neighborhood. I would go back and visit every once in a while, I had cousins that lived across the street from our old house. Turns out Charlie Nava committed suicide while in his twenties. About the same tome Robert Arzate was shot to death coming out of the Rim Ram Club on Telegraph Road. Georgie got in so much trouble he was sent to Chicago to live with some relatives.

It might not seem like it but those were good times. We moved from Charlesworth street in November of 1962.

Randyman wrote:Frank, enjoy your fishing trip.

Randyman wrote:Growing Up On Charlesworth Street

I was born in Boyle Heights at the White Memorial Hospital on Brooklyn Avenue. My father, who was originally from Las Cruces, New Mexico, came of age in Maravilla, an East Los Angeles barrio. My mother was from Boyle Heights, growing up on Soto Street. They lived for a while with my uncle Jimmy De La O, renting a small back house on my uncle's property on Arizona Street before buying their home in Santa Fe Springs, a little further east but still in L.A. county. The house they bought was on Charlesworth Street. The house sat near the bottom of small hill, two house from the corner. At the top of the hill, behind the row of houses were the oil derricks. Santa Fe Springs was filled with them.

The guys I grew up with were Georgie Nava, Manuel Azarte, and a few other guys whose last names I no longer recall; Rudy, Oscar and up near the top of the block lived Ricky. Some of the guys had older brothers. Squeaky was Manuel's older brother. He was about six or seven years older then us. Georgie's older brother was Charlie Nava. Across the street lived the Romo family. the youngest son was about two years younger than me, the older brothers, Bennie and Frankie were in high school. Next to the Romo's were the Delgado's, my cousins. It was not an easy place to grow up. If we weren't fighting with each other, we were fighting or having rock fights with the block behind us.

Charlie Nava was a Pachucho, not quite the Pachuco's of the 1940's, the Zootsuiter's. They were what would later be called Cholos. The older guys were attached to nearby barrio Canta Ranas (Singing frogs), Charlie seemed to be the main guy. He was known as a pretty good fighter. Squeaky on the other hand was a bully. Whenever Manuel and I got in a fight, Squeaky would come looking for me. There was no escaping it. It just got to be a regular routine. I beat up Manuel, Squeaky beat me up. Often times, their sister would join Squeaky in kicking my ass. If they did a really good job on me I would find Manuel the next day and the whole thing would start over again. It was a vicious cycle.

Every once in a while, Charlie and his friends would get a wild hair up their arse and decide that Georgie, Rudy and I were going to fight a "Round Robin". Both Georgie and Rudy were one year older than me. I must have been about five or six when this was going on. They would form a circle around us, and then eventually, two of us would start fighting, sometimes through tears. We hated it. We were best friends but at that age we really didn't have much choice, so we fought.. I could take Georgie but not Rudy, Georgie could take Rudy but not me and Rudy could take me but not Georgie. This went on for a couple of years. Even with all that we still managed to remain friends.

At about the same time frame, a new family moved into the block, they were immigrants of some type, Germans, if I remember correctly. The entire family were bunch of a..holes. There was a boy in the family that was two grades above me. His name was Steve. He was a classic bully. He picked on us whenever he had the chance, which was everyday. He made no attempt to become friends with any of the other guys on the block. I hated him. His father was the same way. My father didn't like him ad they clashed a few times.

One day we were playing baseball in the street. We were having a good time but it was too much for Steve and his father. They were watching us from their front porch. Steve jumped on his bike and rode right into the middle of the game, kicking everyone and anyone, including me, and ruining the game. His father was laughing the entire time this was going on. Over on my side of the street my father was sitting in his car with a few friends from the neighborhood, they were drinking. Most of the men were old friends from East L.A., so they were a tight knit group. My father saw what was going on and when he saw me walk back toward the house he jumped out of the car and asked me "Where are you going?" I answered back "I'm going home". He looked me right square in the eye and told me to go back there and stand up for myself. I knew there was no point in arguing with my dad, not in this type of situation. So I walked back to where we were playing ball. Steve rode over toward me and stuck his foot out to kick me. this time I grabbed his leg and pulled him off the bike. he landed hard on his back and I jumped right on top of him and just let go of my punches, He was crying like a baby. His father jumped off the porch and started yelling at me to get off of his son. My father walked toward him, with his right extended arm out and pointing his index finger at him. He said " Leave them alone and let them settle it by themselves, you thought it was funny a minute ago". The guy thought about it for a second but kept his mouth shut. I let Steve up and he ran home crying. He never bothered us again. It wasn''t too long after that Steve and his family moved away.


When I lived on that block I got in a fight just about every day. It was a tough neighborhood. I would go back and visit every once in a while, I had cousins that lived across the street from our old house. Turns out Charlie Nava committed suicide while in his twenties. About the same tome Robert Arzate was shot to death coming out of the Rim Ram Club on Telegraph Road. Georgie got in so much trouble he was sent to Chicago to live with some relatives.

It might not seem like it but those were good times. We moved from Charlesworth street in November of 1962.

CNorkusJr wrote:Hi Guys, Sorry I have been away from forum lately. Not feeling 100 %, but on the mend slowly.

Back read alot of the posts, and as usual, simply great stories from the past.

Rick and Randy, thanks for your stories on your careers and life- something to be proud about for sure on that.
Nice way to mend and getting the time to go by is reading the posts here and watching the "links".

Thanks, Charlie N.

Cholo wrote:Rick, After reading your piece on Mando Ramos, i read a quote from promoter Don Chargin who staged Sugar Ramos against Mando Ramos on August 7, 1970, at the Olympic, the toughest fight he ever witnessed. Were you or Frank at this fight, do you remember much about it?..

Randyman wrote:Years ago, when my father, the late great Andrew De La O was still alive, he would almost always answer the obvious questions with "It's possible but not probable". I have no doubt that would be his answer to "Hey Dad, do you think Mosley can beat Pacquiao?" It would be petty hard to argue with that. A decade ago I would probably say Mosley, without a doubt but it's not 2001, it's 2011 and Mosley is nearing 40 years of age. The odds favor Manny Pacquiao, big time..

That being said, if there is any fighter alive, in or around that weight class, that can find the possibility of beating Pacquiao, it's Sugar Shane Mosley. Manny is great, no doubt. I'm not convinced he can walk on water but he can fight, I''ll give him that. What makes it even microscopically possible is Manny's style and Mosley's quickness. Mosley is a pure fighter and is at his absolute best when the man in front of him chooses to fight. Mosley is still (possibly) quick enough to make that work for him.

I've been accused more than once of thinking with my heart when it comes to the fighters that I like. It's true, I'm not denying it but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm wrong. In this case my head knows better but my heart will still be pulling for Mosley. He's the underdog here and I love an underdog. Plus, Mosley is an L.A. area fighter, a hometown guy and he has a huge heart, maybe the biggest in the game today. I'm hoping to see Mosley win this one. He's what my old trainer Mel Epstein would call " a deserving guy".

When the fight was first announced I was dead set against it, It just seemed too much to ask of Mosley. The fight game can be cruel, crueler than most sports. The reward for a great career is to grow old and be pitted against a younger, stronger fighter than yourself. It's just the way of the sport. Think Muhammad Ali vs Larry Holmes in 1980, Sugar Ray Leonard's 1991 fight with Terry Norris or more recently Oscar De La Hoya's beat down by Manny Pacquiao in 2008 or any number of fights over the years. Very few escape it. Mosley is well aware of the risks. The decision was his to make.

Still, my hope, and it's a slim one, is that Mosley wins big and retires. I know, I know, I'm thinking with my heart again. I can't help it. But hey, anythings possible, right?

Sugar Shane Mosley will be challenging Manny Pacquiao for Pacquiao's WBO Weltereight title, May 7, 2011 at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas, Nevada. The fight will be shown on Showtime PPV. As always, may the best man win.

Cholo wrote:

CNorkusJr wrote:Hi Guys, Sorry I have been away from forum lately. Not feeling 100 %, but on the mend slowly.

Back read alot of the posts, and as usual, simply great stories from the past.

Rick and Randy, thanks for your stories on your careers and life- something to be proud about for sure on that.
Nice way to mend and getting the time to go by is reading the posts here and watching the "links".

Thanks, Charlie N.

Charlie, I hope your feeling better buddy, i've been looking up your dads ring record he fought some great fighters, the ole mongoose Archie Moore for one....

CNorkusJr wrote:

Cholo wrote:

CNorkusJr wrote:Hi Guys, Sorry I have been away from forum lately. Not feeling 100 %, but on the mend slowly.

Back read alot of the posts, and as usual, simply great stories from the past.

Rick and Randy, thanks for your stories on your careers and life- something to be proud about for sure on that.
Nice way to mend and getting the time to go by is reading the posts here and watching the "links".

Thanks, Charlie N.

Charlie, I hope your feeling better buddy, i've been looking up your dads ring record he fought some great fighters, the ole mongoose Archie Moore for one....

Thank You, Getting around better as each day passes (inner ear infection causing Vertigo)
Thank You for your interest in my dads career, Archie Moore was my fathers toughesrt opponent,he always stated, as his peek-a-boo defense had my dad stifled from the very get go. (Couldnt connect on the head shots that my father relied on). Archie was one of the All-Time Greats on a very short list.

Pre-fight promo shot. 1958 San Francisco CA



Their friendship lasted as long as they did.

Rick Farris wrote:

Cholo wrote:Rick, After reading your piece on Mando Ramos, i read a quote from promoter Don Chargin who staged Sugar Ramos against Mando Ramos on August 7, 1970, at the Olympic, the toughest fight he ever witnessed. Were you or Frank at this fight, do you remember much about it?..

I was scheduled to fight on the undercard but my opponent, Florentino Ramirez, pulled out with the flu.
I was at the fight with my girlfriend, and it was one of the best I've seen.
It was voted "1970 Fight of the Year" in Los Angeles.
In later years, I would sit with Mando in his home and watch a video of this match.
It's hard to imagine a boxer putting on such an incredible fight considering Mando's lifestyle at the time.
When the former lightweight champ told me what he was doing the night before, I couldn't believe it.
One day I'll share Mando's memory of that fight and his activities in another place.