Brian, a little down time is a good thing. enjoy your time off because as you know, when things get busy they really get busy.Expug wrote:Merry Christmas to all my pals here. Its a great gift seeing this thread rollin again. Yes Randy for sure we have to get a reunion going at some point. I like that Las Vegas fight card idea. As you probably know, there is an NHL lockout going on so the hockey season isn't being played until a new collective bargaining agreement gets worked out. So....I'm around the house quite a bit. More time to converse with my buddies here.
Classic American West Coast Boxing
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Same to you Rick, Merry Christmas to you and Monica!El Gallo wrote:Merry Christmas to all of my Boxrec pals!
Great to see this forum picking up steam again!
I have a couple new stories I post tomorrow.
Rog, the pic of Sixto Rodriguez is great.
Have a great holiday!
-Rick Farris
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Merry Christmas everyone. 
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Merry Christmas!
- Chuck Johnston
- Chuck Johnston
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Good morning and Merry Christmas!! Randy
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Merry Xmas guys!
-Rick
-Rick
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
"First Pro Fight" - Olympic Auditorium
June 4, 1970 . . . I remember waking early that morning, living in the back room of my grandmother's home in Burbank. I was a senior at Burbank High School at the time, a few weeks later I would graduate, but I wouldn't be attending school on this thursday. I was making my professional boxing debut later that night, on television from Los Angeles' legendary fight arena, the Olympic Auditorium.
My day was already planned out. I'd check in at the Olympic at 11am to weigh-in, then return home to rest up before leaving for the arena later in the evening. The weigh-in was quick and informal, I tipped the scale at 119 lbs. My "walk around" weight was my fighting weight. I was always ready to fight weight wise. My opponent, Antonio Villanueva, was a tough veteran, 25-years-old, aways in shape, could fight all out from bell-to-bell. I wanted to knock him out, because nobody else had been able to do so. Our fight was scheduled for five rounds, and I'd be paid $85. I was in top shape, had been boxing at the Main Street Gym with world champs Antonio Gomez and Alfredo Marcano, as well as Felipe Torres and Cesar Sinda. My plan was to start fast, get off first, and keep the pressure on. I had gone to sleep every night for weeks visualizing this fight. I had already had three opponents back out of fighting me in my pro debut; Enrique Flores, Butch Contreras and Baby Corona. None of them showed for weigh-ins on the day of our fights. But Tony Villanueva showed up for our weigh-in, and I knew he was coming to fight.
Before leaving the weigh-in for home, I walked around the Olympic Auditorium by myself. I jumped the gate and walked upstairs to the balcony, took a seat overlooking the ring below and imagined all of the greats who had fought there in the past. I had fought there too, as an amateur I won Golden Gloves, Diamond Belt and Jr. Golden Gloves championships at the 18th & Grand arena, but this was different, this was professional boxing. I thought of Jack Dempsey breaking ground for the construction of the Olympic in the mid-1920's, I thought of Art Aragon selling out the house, my stablemate Jerry Quarry and Mando Ramos doing the same thing as I grew up in the sport. Making my pro debut at the Olympic would be a dream come true, and I was happy that I was doing it while still attending high school, I'd just turned 18. I had one chance to make my pro debut unforgetable, and I was determined to do just that. I left the arena, and headed home to Burbank.
After resting most of the day, I talked to my girlfriend Karla on the phone, and her father, and my friend Bob Seagren, and a couple other well wishers who'd be in the crowd later. My grandmother made me dinner, not like today's fighters eat, but something that proved to be a high-octane prizefighter fuel seasoned with love. My grandmother would not be tuned into KTLA Ch.-5 later that evening to watch me fight. She could not stand to see me in the ring, but fully supported me throughout my career. It was my grandfather who made boxing possible for me, and he had passed away two years earlier when I was 16. In my heart, I quietly dedicated the match to him, my grandpa was my hero, and he knew that I needed to box when I was a kid, better in the ring than in the street.
I hugged my grandmother before I left, jumped into my '55 Ford pick-up I'd bought for $400 the year before, and headed out. I used to prefer driving myself to my fights, just like I preferred to do roadwork by myself. In the ring, you are all by yourself. Before getting on the freeway, I stopped off at Forest Lawn-Hollywood Hills. I visited my grandfather's grave for a moment and then got back on the road. I felt good, and I couldn't wait to arrive at the Olympic, and had to watch my speed as I headed down the Hollywood Fwy, to the Harbor Fwy, and then to the 10 Fwy. Just before reaching the Grand Ave exit, the Olympic Auditorium came into my view. I could see the giant mural of Jack Dempsey that was facing the freeway. I felt like I was coming home to a place where I belonged. The Olympic always left me with that feeling, I always had a sense of Deja Vu when inside the building. I would one day quit boxing, and after doing so I counted a total of 29 fights that I'd fought at the Olympic, as both an amateur and professional. And God only knows how many thousands of matches I watched take place in that ring, live and on television.
As I passed by the front of the Olympic on my way to park, the sidewalk and street was packed with fans holding tickets, lined up and filing through the front gate. Tickets scalpers were hawking their inventory, old time pugs were selling programs, the box office area was crowded. The main event featured soon-to-be world featherweight champ, Antonio Gomez fighting my stablemate, Centavito Hernandez. It was not as big an attraction as many I would fight on in coming months, but more than half of the Olympic 10,400 seats were filled.
After parking my truck, I reached over and grabbed my equipment bag and new red velvet robe with a fighting gamecock embroidered on the back. I locked the truck and headed toward the building. As I pass by the box-office I see trainer Teddy Bentham, who says to me, "Go get'em kid!" Then I see Gene LeBell, we make eye-contact and I nod, Gene smiles and pat's me on the back. Instead of entering through the back door off the parking lot, I wanted to enter from the front. When people saw me entering the Olympic, they would all stare and point, some would walk up and wish me luck. When I finally reached the dressing room area I see "Norm". Norm is an off-duty LAPD officer who would guard the entrance to the dressing room area. Norm remembered how as a young boy I used to stand outside the dressing room hoping to get a close look at my favorite fighters as they left for the ring. He had watched me evolve into an amateur boxer and now a pro. As I entered he smiled at me and said, "Well Ricky, this is your night." Yes it was! Also waiting for me beside Norm was my amateur trainer and cornerman, Manny Diaz. Manny says to me, "Julio and Johnny are downstairs, let's check in with the commission inspector and see the doctor.
Manny Diaz is one of those selfless men that work everyday, then come to the gym to work with amateur fighters after work. Manny and another coach, Bob Bell had worked with me since I was 12. Manny would be in my corner that night along with my manager Johnny Flores, and trainer Julio Flores. After we checked in with the commissioner, we head down aisle to a dressing room at the end where I see Centavito Hernandez, and another stablemate of mine, Rod Contreras, who was fighting in the six-round semi main. The week before, I was training at the Main Street Gym and had watched Rod, a six-round fighter, beat the hell out of former world champ Hiroshi Kobayashi in a sparring session, angering the Japanese champ so much he left the ring and went straight to the dressing room. The Johnny Flores stable was a winning group of fighters. We had Jerry Quarry, Ruben Navarro, Dwight Hawkins, Mac Foster for awhile, Centavito Hernandez, my pal Ronnie Cisneros, Thurman Durden, Joltin Johnny Smith. I was proud to be a member of Johnny's stable, one of the best in LA at the time.
One of the greaest memories that I have is the feeling I had when leaving the dressing room, before heading down the aisle to the ring. I see a lot of my friends waiting as I passed by. From the dressing room, you would turn and go up stairs that would take you to the arena. You'd get to the top and see the ring, it's powder blue canvas bathed in a shaft of smokey light coming down from the over head fixtures, and the TV lights would make it stand out, a magical look like a fantasy world. And that's just what it was. That night I was introduced by Jimmy Lennon as "Schoolboy" Ricky Farris. The nickname did not stick, however, as in my next bout he did not use it. Two years later, Lennon would tag a San Fernando Valley college student as "Schoolboy", and that was the great Bobby Chacon. That's been Bobby's tag forever in L.A.
The Olympic ring looks so different from inside the ropes than it does from the outside. It's much smaller than one thinks, but I found it perfect in size, and also how the canvas felt. The padding was not too soft or hard, ideal to me. When I stepped through the ropes I was 18, but looked about 15. My opponent was in his mid-20's, tatooed, scarred up, tough looking dude. He was a tough guy. We had a war for five rounds. I busted him up pretty good, and tried to put him away in the third round. I got careless as I tried to finish him and he caught me with a shot. I hit the canvas on the seat of my pants, quickly rose and was not hurt. Finished strong. The fans went crazy and tossed nearly $100 in change into the ring after the fight. The verdict, a "Draw". I hoped for a memorable night, and despite the "draw" instead of the KO I hoped for, the night was perfect! I enjoyed the fight we put on, and so did the crowd.
Tony Villanueva and I would fight again, three times in all. Six months later we'd open the Mando Ramos-Raul Rojas card at the Olympic, and I would win a four-round unanimous decision. Then two months after that we'd fight a third and last time, in the semi-main for the Ken Buchanan-Ruben Navarro lightweight title fight at the Sports Arena. In our last fight, I'd floor Villanueva three times, the last time for good in the 6th round. Villanueva had been stopped once by Benny Rodriguez, but this time he was knocked out cold, and he would never fight again. Aileen Eaton loved to use us on big cards because she knew Villanueva and I would get the night going with some hot action.
That first pro fight, however, was one of my best. Friends who watched on TV told me Jim Healy had said nice things, and then I saw my girlfriend waiting back by the dressing room, my family, it was a great moment in my life. Afterwards we all went out and celebrated. The next day I went to school, and suddenly all of these kids who did not know who I was had seen me fight on TV, not to mention the teachers, as "Boxing from the Olympic" was a popular Southern Cal TV production. It was so funny when one of the gym teachers who used to talk down to the guys in his class, was suddenly talking up to me. Strange how people act when they see you from another perspective. How lucky for me to have experienced this.
Just a memory, a special one.
-Rick Farris
June 4, 1970 . . . I remember waking early that morning, living in the back room of my grandmother's home in Burbank. I was a senior at Burbank High School at the time, a few weeks later I would graduate, but I wouldn't be attending school on this thursday. I was making my professional boxing debut later that night, on television from Los Angeles' legendary fight arena, the Olympic Auditorium.
My day was already planned out. I'd check in at the Olympic at 11am to weigh-in, then return home to rest up before leaving for the arena later in the evening. The weigh-in was quick and informal, I tipped the scale at 119 lbs. My "walk around" weight was my fighting weight. I was always ready to fight weight wise. My opponent, Antonio Villanueva, was a tough veteran, 25-years-old, aways in shape, could fight all out from bell-to-bell. I wanted to knock him out, because nobody else had been able to do so. Our fight was scheduled for five rounds, and I'd be paid $85. I was in top shape, had been boxing at the Main Street Gym with world champs Antonio Gomez and Alfredo Marcano, as well as Felipe Torres and Cesar Sinda. My plan was to start fast, get off first, and keep the pressure on. I had gone to sleep every night for weeks visualizing this fight. I had already had three opponents back out of fighting me in my pro debut; Enrique Flores, Butch Contreras and Baby Corona. None of them showed for weigh-ins on the day of our fights. But Tony Villanueva showed up for our weigh-in, and I knew he was coming to fight.
Before leaving the weigh-in for home, I walked around the Olympic Auditorium by myself. I jumped the gate and walked upstairs to the balcony, took a seat overlooking the ring below and imagined all of the greats who had fought there in the past. I had fought there too, as an amateur I won Golden Gloves, Diamond Belt and Jr. Golden Gloves championships at the 18th & Grand arena, but this was different, this was professional boxing. I thought of Jack Dempsey breaking ground for the construction of the Olympic in the mid-1920's, I thought of Art Aragon selling out the house, my stablemate Jerry Quarry and Mando Ramos doing the same thing as I grew up in the sport. Making my pro debut at the Olympic would be a dream come true, and I was happy that I was doing it while still attending high school, I'd just turned 18. I had one chance to make my pro debut unforgetable, and I was determined to do just that. I left the arena, and headed home to Burbank.
After resting most of the day, I talked to my girlfriend Karla on the phone, and her father, and my friend Bob Seagren, and a couple other well wishers who'd be in the crowd later. My grandmother made me dinner, not like today's fighters eat, but something that proved to be a high-octane prizefighter fuel seasoned with love. My grandmother would not be tuned into KTLA Ch.-5 later that evening to watch me fight. She could not stand to see me in the ring, but fully supported me throughout my career. It was my grandfather who made boxing possible for me, and he had passed away two years earlier when I was 16. In my heart, I quietly dedicated the match to him, my grandpa was my hero, and he knew that I needed to box when I was a kid, better in the ring than in the street.
I hugged my grandmother before I left, jumped into my '55 Ford pick-up I'd bought for $400 the year before, and headed out. I used to prefer driving myself to my fights, just like I preferred to do roadwork by myself. In the ring, you are all by yourself. Before getting on the freeway, I stopped off at Forest Lawn-Hollywood Hills. I visited my grandfather's grave for a moment and then got back on the road. I felt good, and I couldn't wait to arrive at the Olympic, and had to watch my speed as I headed down the Hollywood Fwy, to the Harbor Fwy, and then to the 10 Fwy. Just before reaching the Grand Ave exit, the Olympic Auditorium came into my view. I could see the giant mural of Jack Dempsey that was facing the freeway. I felt like I was coming home to a place where I belonged. The Olympic always left me with that feeling, I always had a sense of Deja Vu when inside the building. I would one day quit boxing, and after doing so I counted a total of 29 fights that I'd fought at the Olympic, as both an amateur and professional. And God only knows how many thousands of matches I watched take place in that ring, live and on television.
As I passed by the front of the Olympic on my way to park, the sidewalk and street was packed with fans holding tickets, lined up and filing through the front gate. Tickets scalpers were hawking their inventory, old time pugs were selling programs, the box office area was crowded. The main event featured soon-to-be world featherweight champ, Antonio Gomez fighting my stablemate, Centavito Hernandez. It was not as big an attraction as many I would fight on in coming months, but more than half of the Olympic 10,400 seats were filled.
After parking my truck, I reached over and grabbed my equipment bag and new red velvet robe with a fighting gamecock embroidered on the back. I locked the truck and headed toward the building. As I pass by the box-office I see trainer Teddy Bentham, who says to me, "Go get'em kid!" Then I see Gene LeBell, we make eye-contact and I nod, Gene smiles and pat's me on the back. Instead of entering through the back door off the parking lot, I wanted to enter from the front. When people saw me entering the Olympic, they would all stare and point, some would walk up and wish me luck. When I finally reached the dressing room area I see "Norm". Norm is an off-duty LAPD officer who would guard the entrance to the dressing room area. Norm remembered how as a young boy I used to stand outside the dressing room hoping to get a close look at my favorite fighters as they left for the ring. He had watched me evolve into an amateur boxer and now a pro. As I entered he smiled at me and said, "Well Ricky, this is your night." Yes it was! Also waiting for me beside Norm was my amateur trainer and cornerman, Manny Diaz. Manny says to me, "Julio and Johnny are downstairs, let's check in with the commission inspector and see the doctor.
Manny Diaz is one of those selfless men that work everyday, then come to the gym to work with amateur fighters after work. Manny and another coach, Bob Bell had worked with me since I was 12. Manny would be in my corner that night along with my manager Johnny Flores, and trainer Julio Flores. After we checked in with the commissioner, we head down aisle to a dressing room at the end where I see Centavito Hernandez, and another stablemate of mine, Rod Contreras, who was fighting in the six-round semi main. The week before, I was training at the Main Street Gym and had watched Rod, a six-round fighter, beat the hell out of former world champ Hiroshi Kobayashi in a sparring session, angering the Japanese champ so much he left the ring and went straight to the dressing room. The Johnny Flores stable was a winning group of fighters. We had Jerry Quarry, Ruben Navarro, Dwight Hawkins, Mac Foster for awhile, Centavito Hernandez, my pal Ronnie Cisneros, Thurman Durden, Joltin Johnny Smith. I was proud to be a member of Johnny's stable, one of the best in LA at the time.
One of the greaest memories that I have is the feeling I had when leaving the dressing room, before heading down the aisle to the ring. I see a lot of my friends waiting as I passed by. From the dressing room, you would turn and go up stairs that would take you to the arena. You'd get to the top and see the ring, it's powder blue canvas bathed in a shaft of smokey light coming down from the over head fixtures, and the TV lights would make it stand out, a magical look like a fantasy world. And that's just what it was. That night I was introduced by Jimmy Lennon as "Schoolboy" Ricky Farris. The nickname did not stick, however, as in my next bout he did not use it. Two years later, Lennon would tag a San Fernando Valley college student as "Schoolboy", and that was the great Bobby Chacon. That's been Bobby's tag forever in L.A.
The Olympic ring looks so different from inside the ropes than it does from the outside. It's much smaller than one thinks, but I found it perfect in size, and also how the canvas felt. The padding was not too soft or hard, ideal to me. When I stepped through the ropes I was 18, but looked about 15. My opponent was in his mid-20's, tatooed, scarred up, tough looking dude. He was a tough guy. We had a war for five rounds. I busted him up pretty good, and tried to put him away in the third round. I got careless as I tried to finish him and he caught me with a shot. I hit the canvas on the seat of my pants, quickly rose and was not hurt. Finished strong. The fans went crazy and tossed nearly $100 in change into the ring after the fight. The verdict, a "Draw". I hoped for a memorable night, and despite the "draw" instead of the KO I hoped for, the night was perfect! I enjoyed the fight we put on, and so did the crowd.
Tony Villanueva and I would fight again, three times in all. Six months later we'd open the Mando Ramos-Raul Rojas card at the Olympic, and I would win a four-round unanimous decision. Then two months after that we'd fight a third and last time, in the semi-main for the Ken Buchanan-Ruben Navarro lightweight title fight at the Sports Arena. In our last fight, I'd floor Villanueva three times, the last time for good in the 6th round. Villanueva had been stopped once by Benny Rodriguez, but this time he was knocked out cold, and he would never fight again. Aileen Eaton loved to use us on big cards because she knew Villanueva and I would get the night going with some hot action.
That first pro fight, however, was one of my best. Friends who watched on TV told me Jim Healy had said nice things, and then I saw my girlfriend waiting back by the dressing room, my family, it was a great moment in my life. Afterwards we all went out and celebrated. The next day I went to school, and suddenly all of these kids who did not know who I was had seen me fight on TV, not to mention the teachers, as "Boxing from the Olympic" was a popular Southern Cal TV production. It was so funny when one of the gym teachers who used to talk down to the guys in his class, was suddenly talking up to me. Strange how people act when they see you from another perspective. How lucky for me to have experienced this.
Just a memory, a special one.
-Rick Farris
Last edited by El Gallo on 25 Dec 2012, 19:36, edited 2 times in total.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Fantastic stuff Rick. I read that twice and I could feel it. I mean I was able to picture your entire day and fight vividly in my mind. What a great experience. What a great day. Thanks for posting that. Tremendous.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Reunion? You bet, and I'm all for the Las Vegas idea! Let's do it.Randyman wrote:Brian, a little down time is a good thing. enjoy your time off because as you know, when things get busy they really get busy.Expug wrote:Merry Christmas to all my pals here. Its a great gift seeing this thread rollin again. Yes Randy for sure we have to get a reunion going at some point. I like that Las Vegas fight card idea. As you probably know, there is an NHL lockout going on so the hockey season isn't being played until a new collective bargaining agreement gets worked out. So....I'm around the house quite a bit. More time to converse with my buddies here.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Been to Vegas three times. The first was in 2003 to compete in The National Judo Championships. I competed in Masters and had a fun time. It was at The old Rivera hotel. I stayed there as well. I'll never forget how at the same time the tourny was going on,in one other hall at The Riv,there was an enactment of Christs Passion as it was Easter Weekend. In another hall it was a heroin addicts anoynomous convention. Very eclectic mix of guys walkin through the hallways with their gis on mingling with people dressed for the passion of Christ and heroin addicts. The other two times were with the Hawks and we stayed in the beautiful Bellagio. Very different visits from 2003 for sure. You never know where lifes gonna take you.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Expug wrote:Been to Vegas three times. The first was in 2003 to compete in The National Judo Championships. I competed in Masters and had a fun time. It was at The old Rivera hotel. I stayed there as well. I'll never forget how at the same time the tourny was going on,in one other hall at The Riv,there was an enactment of Christs Passion as it was Easter Weekend. In another hall it was a heroin addicts anoynomous convention. Very eclectic mix of guys walkin through the hallways with their gis on mingling with people dressed for the passion of Christ and heroin addicts. The other two times were with the Hawks and we stayed in the beautiful Bellagio. Very different visits from 2003 for sure. You never know where lifes gonna take you.
True Brian. I fought there in 1967, as a 15-year-old junior glover and the fights were held in the afternoon at a stadium that hosted destruction-derby races once the sun went down , then in the Golden Gloves Nationals in '70, and as a pro in 1973 at the Silver Slipper. One of my marriages took place there, and have been there many times on film locations starting with "The Electric Horseman" more than 30 years ago. Was there a couple weeks back for Pac-Marquez. It sure has changed over the years. In the old days you had the strip and downtown. Now it looks like Fantasyland. I kind of miss the way it was, but I also enjoy the way it is today. It's also a place Monica enjoys. If anybody would like to consider a date for a reunion, I think it would be great, and we might get Dan Hanley and Angela, too?
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Business with Aileen included "Judo Gene" . . .
*In 1966, featherweight contender Raul Rojas stopped Ricardo "Pajarito" Moreno in the third round on cuts, at the Olympic Auditorium. These were two explosive punchers and it had been a close match prior to the stoppage. A deal is cut for a rematch that was held at the Los Angeles Sports Arena, and this is Jackie McCoy's version of what transpired:
"When Raul Rojas fought Moreno a second time after a sellout at the Olympic for the first match, I don't remember the exact amount Aileen Eaton offered us but I said something like, ""Look, if it does over $50,000 we want 25% of the net gate. If it goes over $50,000 we want twenty-seven and a half. If it goes over $100,000 we want 30%. She said, "Oh we can't do that."
We argued all day. We were there for hours, back and forth. Aileen finally said, "Okay, okay. I'll take it in and have the secretary type it." When she brought it back, I look at the percentages and everything looked good. I signed it. I thought I had everything I wanted. Rojas took Moreno apart. The crowd went crazy. The drew over $100,000. Everything was great. But when I got paid that night I said, "This can't be right." Aileen said, "I don't have all of the figures in front of me." Anyway, I took the check and had a few drinks to celebrate, but I kept thinking something was wrong."
When I got home, I did what I should have done in the beginning, I looked at the contract. What the contract read wasn't thirty percent of the net gate if it went over $100,000. it said 30% of everything over $100,000. It made a real big difference in the final amount."
"I was so mad I called her house at 3am. Her maid answered and refused to disturb her. I had to talk to somebody so I called Mickey Davies, her matchmaker. I reminded him that he was in the office when we were bargaining, and I said, "This is the way I understood the contract, and I know she understood it that way, but that isn't the way she wrote it up." He said, "The way you are saying it is the way you said it at the time, and I thought it was very clear. I said, "I'm going to cut off my nose to spite my face, but I'm never going to fight for Aileen unless she makes this right."
"That morning I went down to see her. I was in a rage I was so mad! But when I went in there, she had her son there, Gene LeBell, a professional wrestler who weighed about 235 pounds. My temper went away, I was able to control myself immediatly."
I told her, "You know that contract isn't what we agreed to." She said, "I believe that you thought that was what we agreed to, but why won't you give me the same consideration to think that the contract says what I thought we agreed to?" She then said, "We'll split the difference." So she saved a little bit. But even with that, Aileen was great, she really was. I had a lot of respect for her then, and I have a whole lot more respect for her now. Boxing isn't anywhere near what it used to be."
-Jackie McCoy
*In 1966, featherweight contender Raul Rojas stopped Ricardo "Pajarito" Moreno in the third round on cuts, at the Olympic Auditorium. These were two explosive punchers and it had been a close match prior to the stoppage. A deal is cut for a rematch that was held at the Los Angeles Sports Arena, and this is Jackie McCoy's version of what transpired:
"When Raul Rojas fought Moreno a second time after a sellout at the Olympic for the first match, I don't remember the exact amount Aileen Eaton offered us but I said something like, ""Look, if it does over $50,000 we want 25% of the net gate. If it goes over $50,000 we want twenty-seven and a half. If it goes over $100,000 we want 30%. She said, "Oh we can't do that."
We argued all day. We were there for hours, back and forth. Aileen finally said, "Okay, okay. I'll take it in and have the secretary type it." When she brought it back, I look at the percentages and everything looked good. I signed it. I thought I had everything I wanted. Rojas took Moreno apart. The crowd went crazy. The drew over $100,000. Everything was great. But when I got paid that night I said, "This can't be right." Aileen said, "I don't have all of the figures in front of me." Anyway, I took the check and had a few drinks to celebrate, but I kept thinking something was wrong."
When I got home, I did what I should have done in the beginning, I looked at the contract. What the contract read wasn't thirty percent of the net gate if it went over $100,000. it said 30% of everything over $100,000. It made a real big difference in the final amount."
"I was so mad I called her house at 3am. Her maid answered and refused to disturb her. I had to talk to somebody so I called Mickey Davies, her matchmaker. I reminded him that he was in the office when we were bargaining, and I said, "This is the way I understood the contract, and I know she understood it that way, but that isn't the way she wrote it up." He said, "The way you are saying it is the way you said it at the time, and I thought it was very clear. I said, "I'm going to cut off my nose to spite my face, but I'm never going to fight for Aileen unless she makes this right."
"That morning I went down to see her. I was in a rage I was so mad! But when I went in there, she had her son there, Gene LeBell, a professional wrestler who weighed about 235 pounds. My temper went away, I was able to control myself immediatly."
I told her, "You know that contract isn't what we agreed to." She said, "I believe that you thought that was what we agreed to, but why won't you give me the same consideration to think that the contract says what I thought we agreed to?" She then said, "We'll split the difference." So she saved a little bit. But even with that, Aileen was great, she really was. I had a lot of respect for her then, and I have a whole lot more respect for her now. Boxing isn't anywhere near what it used to be."
-Jackie McCoy
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Rick, that must have been cool fighting in Vegas. There is just something about the atmosphere there. Its raw or something I dunno. Can't put a finger on it. Its funny how a few years back they actually tried marketing it as a family vacation destination. Ah...no.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Brian, it had an edge, was very exciting to me in the early 70's, wish I had fought there more. Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez was big in Vegas when he started his career, under the management of Frankie Muche. they had other attractions like Middleweight contender Ferd Hernandez and world champ Freddie Little. And of course, the old vets like Wille Pep would fight there last matches there. You'd see guys like Adolf Pruitt featured. Mando Muniz says that Pruitt is the best he ever fought. And that says a lot, considering Muniz fought Jose Napoles, Emile Griffith, Carlos Palomino,Ernie Lopez, Hedgeman Lewis, Clyde Gray, Eddie Perkins, Raul Soriano, and Sugar Ray Leonard, to name a few. The fights were good there, and held weekly in small casino venues, low ceiling events. The Convention Center held the big fights. Mel Greb was a weekly promoter back in the 60's and so was Bill Miller. But the history is far richer than I have time or room to share here. Randy De La O also fought in Las Vegas, a pro match on the undercard of a Mike Quarry match at the Tropicana.Expug wrote:Rick, that must have been cool fighting in Vegas. There is just something about the atmosphere there. Its raw or something I dunno. Can't put a finger on it. Its funny how a few years back they actually tried marketing it as a family vacation destination. Ah...no.
Last edited by El Gallo on 25 Dec 2012, 22:00, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Las Vegas Boxing Hall of Fame . . .
My friend Steve Lott, who worked the corner of Mike Tyson back in the days of Cayton, Jacobs & Rooney has opened a cool boxing hall of fame museum at the Luxor Hotel. He has invited me to meet him there and he'd show me around. I was unable to attend recently when visiting, but maybe we could do it as a group if we should meet there for a reunion? He has a lot of great meorabelia and is connected with the Big Fights Film group that was created by Jimmy Jacobs and Bill Cayton. Lots of vintage footage. Just something to think about.
My friend Steve Lott, who worked the corner of Mike Tyson back in the days of Cayton, Jacobs & Rooney has opened a cool boxing hall of fame museum at the Luxor Hotel. He has invited me to meet him there and he'd show me around. I was unable to attend recently when visiting, but maybe we could do it as a group if we should meet there for a reunion? He has a lot of great meorabelia and is connected with the Big Fights Film group that was created by Jimmy Jacobs and Bill Cayton. Lots of vintage footage. Just something to think about.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Merry Christmas Guys !!! Sorry I'm a little late in chiming in, but as you might imagine, the last 4-5 days for me here was pretty much, non-stop carousel with in-laws and other friends coming into town for gatherings. My computer time was basically email readings late at night.
I just caught up since my last Post and see all my friends checking in. I HOPE YOU ALL HAD A WONDERFUL CRISTMAS AND HOLIDAY SEASON. Rose & I are just fine and with the Christmas Day visits, hopefully things will slow down a bit.
Love your new posted paintings, Rog. Keep em' coming.
Scartissue- Thats a tough subject to bring up at Christmas, but there are whackos everywhere. I dont think he was personally awaiting FD arrival, but any "Authority figure" that would first show up at his place. Unless I missed something in the last day or so, he was ready for anyone.
These guys were Volunteer Firefighters up there, during the day or night, they were the neighborhood bakers, bankers,auto mechanics etc etc who devote their spare time to training and fire protection along with other non-paying duties. Very dedicated individuals who showed up to possibly help out anyone in distress, only to be met by bullets in an ambush. Coming on the heels of Newtown Conn, tragedy, you can imagine how much press these disaster stories are getting in local papers here.
Last heard, 18 bus loads of NYC firefighters in dress uniforms will be leaving by bus for the services for those firefighters.
Last week,One of the children of Newtown had an uncle who is a NYC firefighter and over 300 FDNY members went up to Newtown to give the young boy a firefighters funeral (he wanted to be a firefighter like his uncle).
I worked with guys who had faced tough situations in their life, but nothing will ever come close to breaking a man down than a funeral of a childs untimely death.
Enough said.
Vegas sounds good to me.
Thanks Rick for your great stories on your past. That was an epic retelling of a great experience that only someone who walked the walk could write. Magnificent piece.
Thanks for sharing that great memory.
The Aileen Eaton Story was just as good. There has to be something in the promoters blood to turn things around. They drink some kind of "screw around with everyone and everything" Kool-Aid.
Taking advantage of fighters. I'll post a" Charley Norkus-taken in by a shark" story on next page.
Merry Christmas my friends.
I just caught up since my last Post and see all my friends checking in. I HOPE YOU ALL HAD A WONDERFUL CRISTMAS AND HOLIDAY SEASON. Rose & I are just fine and with the Christmas Day visits, hopefully things will slow down a bit.
Love your new posted paintings, Rog. Keep em' coming.
Scartissue- Thats a tough subject to bring up at Christmas, but there are whackos everywhere. I dont think he was personally awaiting FD arrival, but any "Authority figure" that would first show up at his place. Unless I missed something in the last day or so, he was ready for anyone.
These guys were Volunteer Firefighters up there, during the day or night, they were the neighborhood bakers, bankers,auto mechanics etc etc who devote their spare time to training and fire protection along with other non-paying duties. Very dedicated individuals who showed up to possibly help out anyone in distress, only to be met by bullets in an ambush. Coming on the heels of Newtown Conn, tragedy, you can imagine how much press these disaster stories are getting in local papers here.
Last heard, 18 bus loads of NYC firefighters in dress uniforms will be leaving by bus for the services for those firefighters.
Last week,One of the children of Newtown had an uncle who is a NYC firefighter and over 300 FDNY members went up to Newtown to give the young boy a firefighters funeral (he wanted to be a firefighter like his uncle).
I worked with guys who had faced tough situations in their life, but nothing will ever come close to breaking a man down than a funeral of a childs untimely death.
Enough said.
Vegas sounds good to me.
Thanks Rick for your great stories on your past. That was an epic retelling of a great experience that only someone who walked the walk could write. Magnificent piece.
Thanks for sharing that great memory.
The Aileen Eaton Story was just as good. There has to be something in the promoters blood to turn things around. They drink some kind of "screw around with everyone and everything" Kool-Aid.
Taking advantage of fighters. I'll post a" Charley Norkus-taken in by a shark" story on next page.
Merry Christmas my friends.
Last edited by CNorkusJr on 26 Dec 2012, 10:15, edited 2 times in total.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
My father Charley Norkus, turned pro out of New Jersey in 1948 coming out of the service. Fighting out of Bayonne or Jersey City (depending what fans were buying the tickets that night). In a few years and a successful run in the Heavy division, my father started traing in Stillman's Gym in NYC starting about 1952. He was getting more and more exposure in the NYC arenas, St Nicks, Madison Sq Garden, Yankee Stadium and such. Having his mgr and trainers nearby to grab fights more readily, Stillman's was the place to be near Mad. Sq Garden. Original Gleasons Gym in Bronx was the other hotbed to find "A" list boxers to fill cards at the time.
Once a boxer was booked for a card appearance, it was very custom practice for his manager to be given upwards of 500 tickets at a time to try to unload at a boxers favorites haunts. With a contract calling for a piece of the gate, selling tickets could put more money in your pocket and a rooting section the arena.
After my father went through a late afternoon session at Stillman's, a quick shower and dressed nicely, he headed over to the Westside Manhattan Piers to unload 100's of tickets to the Irish crowd Longshoremen. Using the monicker "Charley Murphy Norkus" on his green and gold trimmed robe, they came by the hundreds to hopefully see his KO punches. Another favorite place to unload tickets was the meat-packing district, just below the piers, and still presently on 10th Ave and 25th street. Then other times hitting the local pubs to get rid of a few more. All the time signing autographs,taking pictures and pressing the flesh. Common thing for all fighters to do when fighting in town.
One particular day, when my father did a light workout on his own in Stillmans', (his corner were away doing another card that night elsewhere)-he finished up and when dressed, was met at the door by a man in a suit (who my father said was one of the onlookers that afternoon in the gym). He said to my father " That Whitey Bimstein
gave him a hundred tickets to get rid of locally, and that my father should go with him locally in Times Sq. to sell them". My father told me that he had no reason to not believe him, but my father said that he never saw the man before in his life..
A hundred tickets should take a few hours and maybe he can get a meal out of it too. But later on,he also noticed he had only about 25 tickets, not the full 100 either
As they walked over to 7th Ave and 52 St.. they headed south on the big Avenue lined with at that time, mom and pop shoe stores, food stores, shoe repairs (it was the theatre district and they went through alot of shoes there), music stores etc etc.
Every couple of stores the man would stop in front of, and say " THis guy in here is a big fan of yours, when I go inside, and he turns to look at you , you would really make his day if you waved to him, I'm sure he's good for a few tickets. You stay out here and greet the fans on the street, they want to meet you to (at the time my father started to become recognizable due to some local TV boxing appearances).
So the guy walks inside and talks to the guy behind the counter. After a minute or so, the store owner looks out and as on cue, my father waves with a smile, only to get a small wave back in response. The man would then hand over a few tickets, and the owner paid the guy a few bucks, and the man would leave.
All this time, some boxing fans would stop and talk to my father on the street. Down one side of the Avenue and then up on the other, about a dozen places were stopped into, when the man said "okay we sold all the tickets and I'll give Whitey the money tommorrow" Chore done. My father said that he and the guy split up and headed their own way.
My father said that as he headed back to the gym, he decided to stop into one of the stores that they sold tickets to. As he walked in, he said the owner told him that" he paid up". The owner said that the guy told him "do you know that the guy out there is big heavyweight fighter Charley Norkus, and if you dont pay up the money you owe me, he's coming in to bust you up". Looking out the window, there was my father smiling and waving to him. Naturally they all paid up he found out.
Apparently, the unknown ticket hustler was a local bookie who saw my father without his "cornermen" around and took advantage, playing the game.
My father told Whitey Bimstein and a few others in the coming days. Whitey never gave him tickets nor knew the guy. But someone knew him.
It didnt take long after, but the bookie prankster was found out and a score was evened up with him by some guys affiliated with New Jersey's Johnny Torrio / DeCalvalcante' mob. My father said he had nothing to do with anything in that matter.
Norkus/ Bimstein- Stillman's Gym
Once a boxer was booked for a card appearance, it was very custom practice for his manager to be given upwards of 500 tickets at a time to try to unload at a boxers favorites haunts. With a contract calling for a piece of the gate, selling tickets could put more money in your pocket and a rooting section the arena.
After my father went through a late afternoon session at Stillman's, a quick shower and dressed nicely, he headed over to the Westside Manhattan Piers to unload 100's of tickets to the Irish crowd Longshoremen. Using the monicker "Charley Murphy Norkus" on his green and gold trimmed robe, they came by the hundreds to hopefully see his KO punches. Another favorite place to unload tickets was the meat-packing district, just below the piers, and still presently on 10th Ave and 25th street. Then other times hitting the local pubs to get rid of a few more. All the time signing autographs,taking pictures and pressing the flesh. Common thing for all fighters to do when fighting in town.
One particular day, when my father did a light workout on his own in Stillmans', (his corner were away doing another card that night elsewhere)-he finished up and when dressed, was met at the door by a man in a suit (who my father said was one of the onlookers that afternoon in the gym). He said to my father " That Whitey Bimstein
gave him a hundred tickets to get rid of locally, and that my father should go with him locally in Times Sq. to sell them". My father told me that he had no reason to not believe him, but my father said that he never saw the man before in his life..
A hundred tickets should take a few hours and maybe he can get a meal out of it too. But later on,he also noticed he had only about 25 tickets, not the full 100 either
As they walked over to 7th Ave and 52 St.. they headed south on the big Avenue lined with at that time, mom and pop shoe stores, food stores, shoe repairs (it was the theatre district and they went through alot of shoes there), music stores etc etc.
Every couple of stores the man would stop in front of, and say " THis guy in here is a big fan of yours, when I go inside, and he turns to look at you , you would really make his day if you waved to him, I'm sure he's good for a few tickets. You stay out here and greet the fans on the street, they want to meet you to (at the time my father started to become recognizable due to some local TV boxing appearances).
So the guy walks inside and talks to the guy behind the counter. After a minute or so, the store owner looks out and as on cue, my father waves with a smile, only to get a small wave back in response. The man would then hand over a few tickets, and the owner paid the guy a few bucks, and the man would leave.
All this time, some boxing fans would stop and talk to my father on the street. Down one side of the Avenue and then up on the other, about a dozen places were stopped into, when the man said "okay we sold all the tickets and I'll give Whitey the money tommorrow" Chore done. My father said that he and the guy split up and headed their own way.
My father said that as he headed back to the gym, he decided to stop into one of the stores that they sold tickets to. As he walked in, he said the owner told him that" he paid up". The owner said that the guy told him "do you know that the guy out there is big heavyweight fighter Charley Norkus, and if you dont pay up the money you owe me, he's coming in to bust you up". Looking out the window, there was my father smiling and waving to him. Naturally they all paid up he found out.
Apparently, the unknown ticket hustler was a local bookie who saw my father without his "cornermen" around and took advantage, playing the game.
My father told Whitey Bimstein and a few others in the coming days. Whitey never gave him tickets nor knew the guy. But someone knew him.
It didnt take long after, but the bookie prankster was found out and a score was evened up with him by some guys affiliated with New Jersey's Johnny Torrio / DeCalvalcante' mob. My father said he had nothing to do with anything in that matter.
Norkus/ Bimstein- Stillman's Gym
Last edited by CNorkusJr on 26 Dec 2012, 10:33, edited 5 times in total.
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Awesome, Rick..El Gallo wrote:"First Pro Fight" - Olympic Auditorium
June 4, 1970 . . . I remember waking early that morning, living in the back room of my grandmother's home in Burbank. I was a senior at Burbank High School at the time, a few weeks later I would graduate, but I wouldn't be attending school on this thursday. I was making my professional boxing debut later that night, on television from Los Angeles' legendary fight arena, the Olympic Auditorium.
My day was already planned out. I'd check in at the Olympic at 11am to weigh-in, then return home to rest up before leaving for the arena later in the evening. The weigh-in was quick and informal, I tipped the scale at 119 lbs. My "walk around" weight was my fighting weight. I was always ready to fight weight wise. My opponent, Antonio Villanueva, was a tough veteran, 25-years-old, aways in shape, could fight all out from bell-to-bell. I wanted to knock him out, because nobody else had been able to do so. Our fight was scheduled for five rounds, and I'd be paid $85. I was in top shape, had been boxing at the Main Street Gym with world champs Antonio Gomez and Alfredo Marcano, as well as Felipe Torres and Cesar Sinda. My plan was to start fast, get off first, and keep the pressure on. I had gone to sleep every night for weeks visualizing this fight. I had already had three opponents back out of fighting me in my pro debut; Enrique Flores, Butch Contreras and Baby Corona. None of them showed for weigh-ins on the day of our fights. But Tony Villanueva showed up for our weigh-in, and I knew he was coming to fight.
Before leaving the weigh-in for home, I walked around the Olympic Auditorium by myself. I jumped the gate and walked upstairs to the balcony, took a seat overlooking the ring below and imagined all of the greats who had fought there in the past. I had fought there too, as an amateur I won Golden Gloves, Diamond Belt and Jr. Golden Gloves championships at the 18th & Grand arena, but this was different, this was professional boxing. I thought of Jack Dempsey breaking ground for the construction of the Olympic in the mid-1920's, I thought of Art Aragon selling out the house, my stablemate Jerry Quarry and Mando Ramos doing the same thing as I grew up in the sport. Making my pro debut at the Olympic would be a dream come true, and I was happy that I was doing it while still attending high school, I'd just turned 18. I had one chance to make my pro debut unforgetable, and I was determined to do just that. I left the arena, and headed home to Burbank.
After resting most of the day, I talked to my girlfriend Karla on the phone, and her father, and my friend Bob Seagren, and a couple other well wishers who'd be in the crowd later. My grandmother made me dinner, not like today's fighters eat, but something that proved to be a high-octane prizefighter fuel seasoned with love. My grandmother would not be tuned into KTLA Ch.-5 later that evening to watch me fight. She could not stand to see me in the ring, but fully supported me throughout my career. It was my grandfather who made boxing possible for me, and he had passed away two years earlier when I was 16. In my heart, I quietly dedicated the match to him, my grandpa was my hero, and he knew that I needed to box when I was a kid, better in the ring than in the street.
I hugged my grandmother before I left, jumped into my '55 Ford pick-up I'd bought for $400 the year before, and headed out. I used to prefer driving myself to my fights, just like I preferred to do roadwork by myself. In the ring, you are all by yourself. Before getting on the freeway, I stopped off at Forest Lawn-Hollywood Hills. I visited my grandfather's grave for a moment and then got back on the road. I felt good, and I couldn't wait to arrive at the Olympic, and had to watch my speed as I headed down the Hollywood Fwy, to the Harbor Fwy, and then to the 10 Fwy. Just before reaching the Grand Ave exit, the Olympic Auditorium came into my view. I could see the giant mural of Jack Dempsey that was facing the freeway. I felt like I was coming home to a place where I belonged. The Olympic always left me with that feeling, I always had a sense of Deja Vu when inside the building. I would one day quit boxing, and after doing so I counted a total of 29 fights that I'd fought at the Olympic, as both an amateur and professional. And God only knows how many thousands of matches I watched take place in that ring, live and on television.
As I passed by the front of the Olympic on my way to park, the sidewalk and street was packed with fans holding tickets, lined up and filing through the front gate. Tickets scalpers were hawking their inventory, old time pugs were selling programs, the box office area was crowded. The main event featured soon-to-be world featherweight champ, Antonio Gomez fighting my stablemate, Centavito Hernandez. It was not as big an attraction as many I would fight on in coming months, but more than half of the Olympic 10,400 seats were filled.
After parking my truck, I reached over and grabbed my equipment bag and new red velvet robe with a fighting gamecock embroidered on the back. I locked the truck and headed toward the building. As I pass by the box-office I see trainer Teddy Bentham, who says to me, "Go get'em kid!" Then I see Gene LeBell, we make eye-contact and I nod, Gene smiles and pat's me on the back. Instead of entering through the back door off the parking lot, I wanted to enter from the front. When people saw me entering the Olympic, they would all stare and point, some would walk up and wish me luck. When I finally reached the dressing room area I see "Norm". Norm is an off-duty LAPD officer who would guard the entrance to the dressing room area. Norm remembered how as a young boy I used to stand outside the dressing room hoping to get a close look at my favorite fighters as they left for the ring. He had watched me evolve into an amateur boxer and now a pro. As I entered he smiled at me and said, "Well Ricky, this is your night." Yes it was! Also waiting for me beside Norm was my amateur trainer and cornerman, Manny Diaz. Manny says to me, "Julio and Johnny are downstairs, let's check in with the commission inspector and see the doctor.
Manny Diaz is one of those selfless men that work everyday, then come to the gym to work with amateur fighters after work. Manny and another coach, Bob Bell had worked with me since I was 12. Manny would be in my corner that night along with my manager Johnny Flores, and trainer Julio Flores. After we checked in with the commissioner, we head down aisle to a dressing room at the end where I see Centavito Hernandez, and another stablemate of mine, Rod Contreras, who was fighting in the six-round semi main. The week before, I was training at the Main Street Gym and had watched Rod, a six-round fighter, beat the hell out of former world champ Hiroshi Kobayashi in a sparring session, angering the Japanese champ so much he left the ring and went straight to the dressing room. The Johnny Flores stable was a winning group of fighters. We had Jerry Quarry, Ruben Navarro, Dwight Hawkins, Mac Foster for awhile, Centavito Hernandez, my pal Ronnie Cisneros, Thurman Durden, Joltin Johnny Smith. I was proud to be a member of Johnny's stable, one of the best in LA at the time.
One of the greaest memories that I have is the feeling I had when leaving the dressing room, before heading down the aisle to the ring. I see a lot of my friends waiting as I passed by. From the dressing room, you would turn and go up stairs that would take you to the arena. You'd get to the top and see the ring, it's powder blue canvas bathed in a shaft of smokey light coming down from the over head fixtures, and the TV lights would make it stand out, a magical look like a fantasy world. And that's just what it was. That night I was introduced by Jimmy Lennon as "Schoolboy" Ricky Farris. The nickname did not stick, however, as in my next bout he did not use it. Two years later, Lennon would tag a San Fernando Valley college student as "Schoolboy", and that was the great Bobby Chacon. That's been Bobby's tag forever in L.A.
The Olympic ring looks so different from inside the ropes than it does from the outside. It's much smaller than one thinks, but I found it perfect in size, and also how the canvas felt. The padding was not too soft or hard, ideal to me. When I stepped through the ropes I was 18, but looked about 15. My opponent was in his mid-20's, tatooed, scarred up, tough looking dude. He was a tough guy. We had a war for five rounds. I busted him up pretty good, and tried to put him away in the third round. I got careless as I tried to finish him and he caught me with a shot. I hit the canvas on the seat of my pants, quickly rose and was not hurt. Finished strong. The fans went crazy and tossed nearly $100 in change into the ring after the fight. The verdict, a "Draw". I hoped for a memorable night, and despite the "draw" instead of the KO I hoped for, the night was perfect! I enjoyed the fight we put on, and so did the crowd.
Tony Villanueva and I would fight again, three times in all. Six months later we'd open the Mando Ramos-Raul Rojas card at the Olympic, and I would win a four-round unanimous decision. Then two months after that we'd fight a third and last time, in the semi-main for the Ken Buchanan-Ruben Navarro lightweight title fight at the Sports Arena. In our last fight, I'd floor Villanueva three times, the last time for good in the 6th round. Villanueva had been stopped once by Benny Rodriguez, but this time he was knocked out cold, and he would never fight again. Aileen Eaton loved to use us on big cards because she knew Villanueva and I would get the night going with some hot action.
That first pro fight, however, was one of my best. Friends who watched on TV told me Jim Healy had said nice things, and then I saw my girlfriend waiting back by the dressing room, my family, it was a great moment in my life. Afterwards we all went out and celebrated. The next day I went to school, and suddenly all of these kids who did not know who I was had seen me fight on TV, not to mention the teachers, as "Boxing from the Olympic" was a popular Southern Cal TV production. It was so funny when one of the gym teachers who used to talk down to the guys in his class, was suddenly talking up to me. Strange how people act when they see you from another perspective. How lucky for me to have experienced this.
Just a memory, a special one.
-Rick Farris
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Rick, you have written a terrific piece about a fight of yours at the Olympic Auditorium which took place during 1970.
- Chuck Johnston
- Chuck Johnston
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Chuck1052 wrote:Rick, you have written a terrific piece about a fight of yours at the Olympic Auditorium which took place during 1970.
- Chuck Johnston
Our Champ and Friend, Rick Farris in the Ring
Chuck, I want to say Thank You for your kind words at the CA Boxing Hof event in Oct.
It was a real pleasure to meet you and a camera was ready on hand for it. Thanks.
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Christmas Morning
It was around ten years after I left high school that I heard about it. My JV coach,Coach Larsen,had crashed in his airplane killing himself ,his three kids,and the Irish Setter. Happened on Christmas morning. I heard that he talked his wife to fly out to his little ranch they had in the foothills.
Coach Larsen was one of those real gung ho guys. From a strict Baptist family in Oklahoma,he was lean and wiry. He didn't smoke or drink or cuss. Always wore a crew cut.In the off season he coached the wrestling team.
He wasn't a mean guy. Easy going. Kind of soft spoken. He had a nice smile and a real politeness about him.
He did all kinds of risky things. Once he hand glided of La Jolla Shores cliffs and landed in some electric wires. Almost died.
The story on the crash,as I heard it,was on Christmas morning,he was going to fly his family to his ranch. He couldn't fit everone in his Piper Cub so he took his wife first and the went back for the kids and the dog.
I guess his wife was alone at the little air strip and saw the crash.
Many years later I went back to the school to help coach the football team. The Larsens had a a house in back of the field. I heard that Mrs. Larsen taught Sunday school at the church where the family had always attended.
One afternoon the team was taking a break and I saw Mrs. Larsen sitting in the bleachers. I think she was with some of the Sunday school kids. I went over to see her.
She was always a very shy person,modest. She wore glasses and was pretty.
"Remember me Mrs. Larsen,"I asked.
"Oh yes Roger. How are you?"
"Fine thanks."
She was wearing a plain dress.The sun shone on her sandy hair.
"Roger I'm going to get married next month. You're invited to the ceremony."
I was little taken aback.
"Of course Mrs. Larsen."
"He's the first man I've kissed since my husband died."
"I'm happy for you,"I said.
Mrs. Larsen looked towards the field.
"My husband just had to go to the ranch that day."
I paused,a little lost for words.
"Well Mrs. Larsen,I've got to get back to practice. Nice seeing you again. Congratulations."
"You know Roger,"she said as she held one the kids' hands,"I've never been happier."
It was around ten years after I left high school that I heard about it. My JV coach,Coach Larsen,had crashed in his airplane killing himself ,his three kids,and the Irish Setter. Happened on Christmas morning. I heard that he talked his wife to fly out to his little ranch they had in the foothills.
Coach Larsen was one of those real gung ho guys. From a strict Baptist family in Oklahoma,he was lean and wiry. He didn't smoke or drink or cuss. Always wore a crew cut.In the off season he coached the wrestling team.
He wasn't a mean guy. Easy going. Kind of soft spoken. He had a nice smile and a real politeness about him.
He did all kinds of risky things. Once he hand glided of La Jolla Shores cliffs and landed in some electric wires. Almost died.
The story on the crash,as I heard it,was on Christmas morning,he was going to fly his family to his ranch. He couldn't fit everone in his Piper Cub so he took his wife first and the went back for the kids and the dog.
I guess his wife was alone at the little air strip and saw the crash.
Many years later I went back to the school to help coach the football team. The Larsens had a a house in back of the field. I heard that Mrs. Larsen taught Sunday school at the church where the family had always attended.
One afternoon the team was taking a break and I saw Mrs. Larsen sitting in the bleachers. I think she was with some of the Sunday school kids. I went over to see her.
She was always a very shy person,modest. She wore glasses and was pretty.
"Remember me Mrs. Larsen,"I asked.
"Oh yes Roger. How are you?"
"Fine thanks."
She was wearing a plain dress.The sun shone on her sandy hair.
"Roger I'm going to get married next month. You're invited to the ceremony."
I was little taken aback.
"Of course Mrs. Larsen."
"He's the first man I've kissed since my husband died."
"I'm happy for you,"I said.
Mrs. Larsen looked towards the field.
"My husband just had to go to the ranch that day."
I paused,a little lost for words.
"Well Mrs. Larsen,I've got to get back to practice. Nice seeing you again. Congratulations."
"You know Roger,"she said as she held one the kids' hands,"I've never been happier."
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Juan Manual Marquez
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
Charley- You're welcome! It was great meeting you.CNorkusJr wrote:Chuck1052 wrote:Rick, you have written a terrific piece about a fight of yours at the Olympic Auditorium which took place during 1970.
- Chuck Johnston
Our Champ and Friend, Rick Farris in the Ring
Chuck, I want to say Thank You for your kind words at the CA Boxing Hof event in Oct.
It was a real pleasure to meet you and a camera was ready on hand for it. Thanks.
- Chuck Johnston
-
dagosd2000
- Heavyweight
- Posts: 8638
- Joined: 01 Sep 2007, 03:31
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
The Dart Thrower
Been some time since I went down to the corner to see how Jack was doing. After fighting ,he tended bar there. Then the bar was named O'Riley's. I think at the end of his career Jack was training at O'Riley's as much as in the gym. I know he was behind the bar after that. When he got off his shift you could find him sitting on the other side.
It wasn't long after that that he bought the Irishman out and renamed the place Pug Corner. With the help of his girlfriend,Judy,they redecorated the place with a lot of Jack's old press clippings and fight programs. I think it was mostly Judy's dough that got him into the joint.
The other morning when I walked in I could see things were getting set up. Ed,the day bartender,was opening the register. Judy was in the back checking the marks on the liquor bottles.
"Good morning Judy,"I said. "How's things?"
"Oh hello Roger,"she said as she put the pen down. "If we had one of those computerized systems that measured the drinks and kept tabs on things,I wouldn't have to do this."
Judy was some years older than Jack,but she didn't show her age like Jack."Where's Jack?"I asked her.
"In the back playing darts ."
"Is he by himself?"
"Yes. He's alone."
As I went to the game room,I heard Judy say to Ed the bartender,"If we don't get another two or three new TV's in here,the young crowd will never come in to watch the ball games."
I saw Jack sitting on a stool pitching darts on the wall.
"How's it going mate?"I said.
Jack turned around. He squinted a little at me. You could sure tell he was in the ring.
"Oh,Roger. It's you."
Jack had a long career starting back in Canada. He was a pretty good light heavy winning the Canadian title. The he went over to Scotland to fight Calderwood. He was going to be the next champ. He split open Jack's eye in the first frame. They stopped it in the second. Jack was always pretty sore about that. Jack's next fight was in the Garden in New York. Jose Torres was moving up fast and didn't let Jack stand in his way. After that it was oblivion. Jack wound up in San Diego training fighters. He did Ok. Had Art Hafey for a while.
"What are you up too Jack?"
"Nothing much. Did you see Judy?"
"She's in the back checking the receipts."
Jack went to the board and pulled out the darts. He sat on the stool facing the wall.His shoulders were slumped over. I could see his bad ear from the back.As i turned to go to the door,I heard Jack say,
"You know Roger,I haven't hit a bull's eye yet."
Been some time since I went down to the corner to see how Jack was doing. After fighting ,he tended bar there. Then the bar was named O'Riley's. I think at the end of his career Jack was training at O'Riley's as much as in the gym. I know he was behind the bar after that. When he got off his shift you could find him sitting on the other side.
It wasn't long after that that he bought the Irishman out and renamed the place Pug Corner. With the help of his girlfriend,Judy,they redecorated the place with a lot of Jack's old press clippings and fight programs. I think it was mostly Judy's dough that got him into the joint.
The other morning when I walked in I could see things were getting set up. Ed,the day bartender,was opening the register. Judy was in the back checking the marks on the liquor bottles.
"Good morning Judy,"I said. "How's things?"
"Oh hello Roger,"she said as she put the pen down. "If we had one of those computerized systems that measured the drinks and kept tabs on things,I wouldn't have to do this."
Judy was some years older than Jack,but she didn't show her age like Jack."Where's Jack?"I asked her.
"In the back playing darts ."
"Is he by himself?"
"Yes. He's alone."
As I went to the game room,I heard Judy say to Ed the bartender,"If we don't get another two or three new TV's in here,the young crowd will never come in to watch the ball games."
I saw Jack sitting on a stool pitching darts on the wall.
"How's it going mate?"I said.
Jack turned around. He squinted a little at me. You could sure tell he was in the ring.
"Oh,Roger. It's you."
Jack had a long career starting back in Canada. He was a pretty good light heavy winning the Canadian title. The he went over to Scotland to fight Calderwood. He was going to be the next champ. He split open Jack's eye in the first frame. They stopped it in the second. Jack was always pretty sore about that. Jack's next fight was in the Garden in New York. Jose Torres was moving up fast and didn't let Jack stand in his way. After that it was oblivion. Jack wound up in San Diego training fighters. He did Ok. Had Art Hafey for a while.
"What are you up too Jack?"
"Nothing much. Did you see Judy?"
"She's in the back checking the receipts."
Jack went to the board and pulled out the darts. He sat on the stool facing the wall.His shoulders were slumped over. I could see his bad ear from the back.As i turned to go to the door,I heard Jack say,
"You know Roger,I haven't hit a bull's eye yet."
Re: Classic American West Coast Boxing
That's a great story, Rog. And this past October, "Jack" was inducted into the California Boxing Hall of Fame. You had a big part in his being inducted, and we both knew just how qualified he was, as a fighter, and a trainer. Mel Epstein had promoted him in the Pacific Northwest and knew "Jack" from his fighting days. I came up with Mel when Jack had Hafey, so after our gym workouts I'd get an earful about Hafey's handler, and how he was a helluva fighter himself. So I knew who he was when you nominated him, and something good happened - he finally hit the bulls eye. Jack is a Hall of Famer!dagosd2000 wrote:The Dart Thrower
Been some time since I went down to the corner to see how Jack was doing. After fighting ,he tended bar there. Then the bar was named O'Riley's. I think at the end of his career Jack was training at O'Riley's as much as in the gym. I know he was behind the bar after that. When he got off his shift you could find him sitting on the other side.
It wasn't long after that that he bought the Irishman out and renamed the place Pug Corner. With the help of his girlfriend,Judy,they redecorated the place with a lot of Jack's old press clippings and fight programs. I think it was mostly Judy's dough that got him into the joint.
The other morning when I walked in I could see things were getting set up. Ed,the day bartender,was opening the register. Judy was in the back checking the marks on the liquor bottles.
"Good morning Judy,"I said. "How's things?"
"Oh hello Roger,"she said as she put the pen down. "If we had one of those computerized systems that measured the drinks and kept tabs on things,I wouldn't have to do this."
Judy was some years older than Jack,but she didn't show her age like Jack."Where's Jack?"I asked her.
"In the back playing darts ."
"Is he by himself?"
"Yes. He's alone."
As I went to the game room,I heard Judy say to Ed the bartender,"If we don't get another two or three new TV's in here,the young crowd will never come in to watch the ball games."
I saw Jack sitting on a stool pitching darts on the wall.
"How's it going mate?"I said.
Jack turned around. He squinted a little at me. You could sure tell he was in the ring.
"Oh,Roger. It's you."
Jack had a long career starting back in Canada. He was a pretty good light heavy winning the Canadian title. The he went over to Scotland to fight Calderwood. He was going to be the next champ. He split open Jack's eye in the first frame. They stopped it in the second. Jack was always pretty sore about that. Jack's next fight was in the Garden in New York. Jose Torres was moving up fast and didn't let Jack stand in his way. After that it was oblivion. Jack wound up in San Diego training fighters. He did Ok. Had Art Hafey for a while.
"What are you up too Jack?"
"Nothing much. Did you see Judy?"
"She's in the back checking the receipts."
Jack went to the board and pulled out the darts. He sat on the stool facing the wall.His shoulders were slumped over. I could see his bad ear from the back.As i turned to go to the door,I heard Jack say,
"You know Roger,I haven't hit a bull's eye yet."