BoxRec

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:

kikibalt wrote:
Alexis Arguello

Frank
Remember a fighter named Kid Pascualito? I know Arguello beat him and so did Olivares. He didn't fight much out of his country of Paraguay,but when he did, he'd lose. Saw him lose to Famoso Gomez in Tj.

I remember seeing Pas. when he fought Olivares in 1970- 71? I remember he had Ruben down early in the fight, don't remember what round it was though.

Dago, I saw his fight with Olivares as well. Thought he was a real nice fighter. How did he look against Gomez and how did the fight unfold?

Scartissue

I need some help here, who're these guys?

I want to say Billy Lloyd vs Zovek Barajas
just not sure, HELP!!

Ken Norton and Muhammad Ali

'Remembering'
By Judith I. Jefferies, Special to The Times


DAVID AND his mother gathered lilacs, daffodils and yellow and pink wildflowers that grew by the side of the road.

"Why so many flowers?" David asked.

"We're taking them with us tomorrow," his mother said. "To the cemetery."

David knew each year she made the trip to put flowers on her father's grave, but he wasn't sure he wanted to go. He had never been there before.

"Memorial Day is the day we honor those who have given their lives in our nation's service," she said. "We remember them."

"Yes," David said. "But I don't really know anyone who served." He was nervous about going and didn't know how to tell her.

"Don't worry," his mom said. "I think you're old enough now to understand this day better. We will visit your grandpa's grave. He died in combat while serving as a pilot in the Air Force. Since I was only 3 years old when he passed away, I didn't really know him either. But he was my father and your grandfather." She became very quiet and continued to arrange flowers. And then she added, "Besides, all we really need to know is that we are able to enjoy the freedoms we do because of the sacrifice he and others made."

"Gee," David said, "I never thought of it that way." She handed him a photo album. "Here is a picture of Grandpa and me when I was a baby. See the wings on my sweater? He wanted those put on me for this picture."

David brushed his hand across the picture and wished he could have known his grandfather. He looked at his mom and thought she probably wished the same thing. He glanced at the mantel where they kept the flag from Grandpa's funeral. His wings were beside it, along with a medallion that read, "Freedom isn't free."

"Would you like to wear Grandpa's wings on your shirt lapel tomorrow?" his mom asked.

"Sure," he said. He realized just how special the day must be for his mom to make such an offer.

The next morning when they reached the cemetery, David's eyes grew wide when he saw many flags and fresh flowers on the graves. The flags fluttered in the breeze. He thought of his grandfather.

He turned to his mother. "Grandpa would be proud to know how many people are being remembered."

"Yes, he would," she said. "These extra flowers are for those who no longer have someone remembering them."

"If everyone adopted just one grave," David said, "no one would be forgotten."

"Why, that's a wonderful idea, David."

They put flowers on some of the graves where there weren't any.

And then David took his special bouquet, arranged it carefully and placed it on his grandfather's grave. He anchored the flag more firmly in the ground.

"There," he said. "Everything is beautiful."

Then suddenly, everyone became quiet. A man with a bugle played taps. David thought it was the most beautifully haunting melody he had ever heard. After that a lady read a poem, "In Flanders Fields."

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.

Of course, David thought. The poem was in honor of those who served their country.

"Oh, look!" his mother said, pointing to a small plane coming toward the cemetery. It flew directly over them and waved to them with its wings.

"Just like Grandpa," David said softly, as he touched the wings on his lapel. He smiled and waved back. "I feel closer to Grandpa than ever," he said. "I'm glad I came. I think this must be what it's like to remember."


"In Flanders Fields" by Lt. Col. John McRae, M.D. (1872-1918) was first published in 1915. Monday is Memorial Day.

'Daring to Look' by Anne Whiston Spirn
Dorothea Lange chronicled the nation.
By Louis P. Masur

Dorothea Lange's Photographs & Reports From the Field

Photos: Images from "Daring to Look: Dorothea Lange's Photographs & Reports From the Field"Anne Whiston Spirn

Dorothea Lange's photograph "Migrant Mother" (1936), which shows a plaintive, destitute woman surrounded by her children at the height of the Depression, secured her place as one of the most distinguished documentary photographers of all time. That image has appeared, and been appropriated, countless times -- on a U.S. postage stamp, on magazine covers, even in an ad for the A&E series "California and the Dream Seekers." Whatever its uses, the image defines and transcends an American moment.

Fortunately, Lange was no one-shot photographer. Born in New Jersey in 1895, she later moved west, opening a portrait studio in San Francisco in 1919. She often traveled the Southwest, photographing Hopi Indians, and then, with the Depression taking its toll, she began to shoot street scenes. From 1935 to 1939, she worked on and off for the Resettlement Administration, which would become the Farm Security Administration, a government agency that aided farmers and farm workers and also hired photographers to document conditions around the country. Lange continued to photograph through the '40s and '50s; her reputation as one of the premier photographers of her generation was ratified in 1966, the year after her death, with a retrospective exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

A remarkable group of photographers worked for the Farm Security Administration -- among them Walker Evans, Ben Shahn, Russell Lee and Arthur Rothstein. Over time, each has received spasms of attention, and now it seems to be Lange's turn again. In 2006, her government-sponsored yet quickly censored images of Japanese American internment were published. And now Anne Whiston Spirn brings us a selection of Lange's work -- 149 photographs -- from 1939, most of them previously unpublished, though almost all are available through the Library of Congress' online catalog.

"Daring to Look" is a hybrid work, part personal essay, part portfolio of photographs, part scholarly catalog of captions and negatives. A professor of landscape architecture at MIT, photographer and author of "The Language of Landscape," Spirn argues strenuously that Lange must be appreciated not solely for her portraits but for her landscapes as well, and that any consideration of Lange must take into account not only images but also words -- the general notes and specific captions that the photographer wrote.

Spirn is right to refocus our attention on the landscape. Lange herself said she was trying in her work to tell the story "of a people in their relation to their institutions, to their fellowmen, and to the land." That landscape -- of farms and signs, cut-overs and crossroads, buildings and shacks -- traverses these photographs whether people are present or not. There are also the internal scenes of parlors and kitchens and stored goods. Many of Lange's photographs include doorways, the pathway between public and private, between physical and emotional landscapes.

The volume includes the stunning cover photograph of a young mother, toeing the earth with her foot, her children behind her and another woman standing inside the door fixing her hair (such sensuality in Lange's work); there is the image of a black sharecropper, posing with his diapered son before his shack, his hands delicately touching the child's head (many images of blacks fill these pages); there is the picture of three children, standing proudly outside the house with a bicycle, a fourth child leaning inside on the windowsill (the children always seem at ease before Lange's camera).

The captions for these photographs certainly provide useful information and might even help us read the images: "Near Klamath Falls, Oregon. Young mother, 25, says 'Next year we'll be painted . . . etc.' "; "Young sharecropper and his first child"; "Michigan Hill, Thurston Co., Western Washington. Three of the four Arnold children. The oldest boy earned the money to buy his bicycle."

But neither Lange's captions for specific photographs nor those for groups of images carry the significance that Spirn imparts to them. She claims that the words and images together are their own "art form," because Lange "does not trust a visual image to tell the story by itself." Lange's information about where, when and whom and her occasional quote or comment certainly help us know something about what is going on in the pictures, but the photographs are not dependent for their meaning on the captions. If they were, "Migrant Mother" would elude us unless referred to as "Destitute peapickers in California; a 32-year-old mother of seven children. February 1936."

Spirn undercuts her own argument about the "seminal" importance of the texts by opening the book with three pictures that do not carry a caption. Perhaps she wants to pay homage to James Agee and Walker Evans' classic "Let Us Now Praise Famous Men," which begins with a portfolio of Evans' photographs. Stunned by the eloquence of the images, Agee famously wrote, "If I could do it, I'd do no writing at all here."

Then again, Spirn laments what she sees as the elevation of Evans and the diminishment of Lange in recent years. But Lange needs no defender; her place in the pantheon of documentary photographers was secured long ago. "No country has ever closely scrutinized itself visually," Lange said toward the end of her life. She did that, with thousands of images worthy of our attention and study. Indeed, many of the pictures included in this volume are one of a sequence, and Spirn does not make clear why she excludes the ones she did. These multiple images need to be examined in relation to one another. Doing so would provide a wider visual landscape. The "Migrant Mother" sequence of six photographs, not shown here, proves eye-opening on such subjects as documentary expression and photographic truth.

Spirn concludes "Daring to Look" with a stirring account of her journey retracing Lange's steps, photographing some of the same landscapes shot in 1939, and talking with descendants of the people encountered nearly 70 years ago. "The good photograph," Lange insisted, "is not the object. The consequences of the photograph are the object." These images endure, not as relics of the past but as vital, living documents. We stare, the images stare back, and recognition flashes in our eyes.

Louis P. Masur is director of American studies at Trinity College in Hartford, Conn., and is the author of "The Soiling of Old Glory: The Story of a Photograph That Shocked America."

Scar
Regarding your inquiry on Gomez/Pasqualito. It was the only time I saw The Kid fight. It was typical of a lot of fights I saw in TJ when a Mexican national would fight another Latin American. This may have been the most intense rivalry down there. The TJ crowd would become hysterical pulling for their "compadre". As I recall,The Kid looked slick and countered well,but Gomez,motivated by the crowd,fought furiously. He went through everything The Kid put in front of him. His left hook to the body was menacing. On the other hand,the crowd sort of intimidated The Kid. It was not close from what I remember.

Another similar bout was Chango Carmona/Raimundo Dias. Dias had stopped Carmona in the previous bout somewhere in Mexico. I don't know the circumstances of the stoppage. But in the reurn at the bullring,it was all Carmona. He "flirled" away at Dias overwhelming him. All with the crowd in a fenzy.

Frank
I hear a lot about this show "American Idol",but honestly I've never watched it. I know the public or a panel votes on the talent that performs on stage and then the public votes to decide who the #1 American Idol is between the final two contestants. Driving to work,I heard that 97,000,000 million Americans voted for in the finals. I heard the winner sing on my car radio. YAWN.

This kid in the photo is the percussion player in his family's Tambora Band. I'm tellin' ya' amigo when this kid took a solo,I collapsed. They played"El Toro Loco" and I never heard the the drums played like this kid could play 'em. He's looking around like it's nothing and the roof is flying off the joint. Tears are runnin' down my cheeks. I told this kid to keep playing "El Toro Loco" and slipped him a twenty.This family Tambora Band playing with "ganas" like I've never heard before. They're all playing with these expressionless faces,yet the music is so spirited and passionate. To think I heard this in a "pueblito" in Michoacan at a little kid's birthday party. Ringo Starr. American Idol. Give me a break. Give me "El Toro Loco" in my little corner of the world and the hell with everything else.

diego

kikibalt wrote:
I need some help here, who're these guys?

I want to say Billy Lloyd vs Zovek Barajas
just not sure, HELP!!

Frank, I'm 99% sure that is Lloyd and Barajas. I think their first fight took place in Mexico, but this one I saw. It was amazing the way Barajas fell apart. I saw him beat both Muniz and Backus, then he looked like crap against this dude named Sosa from South America I think, then the back to back KO losses to Billy Lloyd. I heard later he had syphllis or something and just never regained his steam. Next I saw the fight between Lloyd and Muniz and when I saw them exchanging blows I said to myself, "nobody can go toe to toe with Muniz". And if you heard a scream emanting out of the midwest during that 1st round, it was me!

Scartissue

dagosd2000 wrote:Scar
Regarding your inquiry on Gomez/Pasqualito. It was the only time I saw The Kid fight. It was typical of a lot of fights I saw in TJ when a Mexican national would fight another Latin American. This may have been the most intense rivalry down there. The TJ crowd would become hysterical pulling for their "compadre". As I recall,The Kid looked slick and countered well,but Gomez,motivated by the crowd,fought furiously. He went through everything The Kid put in front of him. His left hook to the body was menacing. On the other hand,the crowd sort of intimidated The Kid. It was not close from what I remember.

Another similar bout was Chango Carmona/Raimundo Dias. Dias had stopped Carmona in the previous bout somewhere in Mexico. I don't know the circumstances of the stoppage. But in the reurn at the bullring,it was all Carmona. He "flirled" away at Dias overwhelming him. All with the crowd in a fenzy.

Dago, thanks for the recap on Kid vs Gomez. Regarding Carmona, were you or Frank or Rick in any way shocked when he laid out Mando Ramos? He appeared to be a real killer and was coming off the Robertson stoppage, but was there any concern before the bout about what was to unfold?

Scartissue

Escuadron 201 Pilot Recalls Mexico’s Role in WWII

By John Philip Wyllie


Despite the fact that World War II ended 58 years ago, books on the topic continue to appear on the bestseller’s list as interest in the subject remains high. One aspect of the war rarely mentioned in the thousands of accounts that have since been published, is the story of El Escuadron 201 or the Mexican Expeditionary Force 201st Fighter Squadron. El Escuadron 201 or the Aztec Eagles as they were also know, was a group of 300 Mexican pilots and support personnel that served in the Philippines and participated in combat missions against the Japanese Imperial Army. Only seven of the original 35 pilots remain and one of them, Captain Reynaldo Gallardo was in San Diego for the Wings Over Gillespie Airshow last weekend to tell his little known story.

Gallardo, the son of Mexican general, enlisted in the Mexican cavalry in 1939 at the tender age of 14. By the time Mexico officially entered the war on the side of the Allies in 1942, he was already an experienced pilot.

“I was crazy about flying from the time I first heard about airplanes,” said Gallardo, who is fast approaching his 80th birthday. “We were eager to get even with the Japanese and I think we did. I’m glad we had the opportunity to do it.”

After receiving some preliminary training in Mexico, Gallardo and his unit were shipped off to the United States where they learned to pilot the P-47 Thunderbolt. Attached to the 58th American Fighter Group in the Philippines, they received additional, more intensive training before they were sent into combat.

“When we first went to into action, we were serving with three U.S. squadrons (and taking orders from American officers). The Americans looked down on us at least a little bit,” Gallardo recalled. “They didn’t say so, but I noticed it. We made up our minds that we wouldn’t say anything, but instead would show these people what we had. Not long after that I had my first incident.”

On a combined U.S - Mexican sortie, Gallardo’s mission was to disrupt the flow of Japanese troops and vehicles along a frequently used road.

“We strafed a column of Japanese vehicles and after I made my pass, I got a little crazy and maneuvered my plane into a (celebratory) roll,” he recalled. “One of the U.S. pilots chastised Gallardo over the on board intercom saying, “look at that crazy Mexican!” Gallardo was offended by the comment. Their ensuing in-flight communication led to a challenge to settle the argument behind the hangar once they landed. Gallardo had no idea which of the Americans he would soon be fighting.

“When we met, I realized that he was about 3 times as big and 4 times as heavy as I was,” Gallardo recalled. “He looked at me, grinned and asked if I still wanted to fight. I said, “I’ll fight you, you son of a gun.” Fortunately, for Gallardo, the fight turned out to be only a minor tussle. Afterward, the two pilots shook hands and impressed by Gallardo’s spunk in a situation where he was hopelessly over-matched, the two became friends. In fact, the incident broke the ice and reduced the tension between the two groups. From then on, the Americans and Mexican directed their wrath at the Japanese rather than each other.

By the time El Escuadron 201 went into action in May of 1945, the once proud Japanese airforce had been reduced to a handful of planes. With little opportunity for aerial combat, the Aztec Eagles set their sights on strategic ground objectives. These included oil depots, bridges, ground forces, ships and ports.

Wounded in action in one of these sorties over Japanese-occupied Formosa, Gallardo had to navigate his damaged aircraft to the nearest base after having sustained multiple injuries from enemy fire. He crash landed his Thunderbolt into an ambulance sitting on the airfield, but walked away from the incident with relatively minor injuries.

Gallardo, at 79 years of age, is feisty and full of life. He occasionally still flies. Having spent the majority of his life on this side of the border, he enjoys speaking about his experience at schools and to various civic groups in the Austin, Texas area.

“At this point, I am not so concerned about gratitude or recognition, but I want everyone to know not what we or I did personally, but what Mexico did in regard to the war.”

scartissue wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Scar
Regarding your inquiry on Gomez/Pasqualito. It was the only time I saw The Kid fight. It was typical of a lot of fights I saw in TJ when a Mexican national would fight another Latin American. This may have been the most intense rivalry down there. The TJ crowd would become hysterical pulling for their "compadre". As I recall,The Kid looked slick and countered well,but Gomez,motivated by the crowd,fought furiously. He went through everything The Kid put in front of him. His left hook to the body was menacing. On the other hand,the crowd sort of intimidated The Kid. It was not close from what I remember.

Another similar bout was Chango Carmona/Raimundo Dias. Dias had stopped Carmona in the previous bout somewhere in Mexico. I don't know the circumstances of the stoppage. But in the reurn at the bullring,it was all Carmona. He "flirled" away at Dias overwhelming him. All with the crowd in a fenzy.

Dago, thanks for the recap on Kid vs Gomez. Regarding Carmona, were you or Frank or Rick in any way shocked when he laid out Mando Ramos? He appeared to be a real killer and was coming off the Robertson stoppage, but was there any concern before the bout about what was to unfold?

Scartissue

Maybe Frank or Rick have some backround info on Mando's preparation for the fight,but I was stunned.

dagosd2000 wrote:

scartissue wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Scar
Regarding your inquiry on Gomez/Pasqualito. It was the only time I saw The Kid fight. It was typical of a lot of fights I saw in TJ when a Mexican national would fight another Latin American. This may have been the most intense rivalry down there. The TJ crowd would become hysterical pulling for their "compadre". As I recall,The Kid looked slick and countered well,but Gomez,motivated by the crowd,fought furiously. He went through everything The Kid put in front of him. His left hook to the body was menacing. On the other hand,the crowd sort of intimidated The Kid. It was not close from what I remember.

Another similar bout was Chango Carmona/Raimundo Dias. Dias had stopped Carmona in the previous bout somewhere in Mexico. I don't know the circumstances of the stoppage. But in the reurn at the bullring,it was all Carmona. He "flirled" away at Dias overwhelming him. All with the crowd in a fenzy.

Dago, thanks for the recap on Kid vs Gomez. Regarding Carmona, were you or Frank or Rick in any way shocked when he laid out Mando Ramos? He appeared to be a real killer and was coming off the Robertson stoppage, but was there any concern before the bout about what was to unfold?

Scartissue

Maybe Frank or Rick have some backround info on Mando's preparation for the fight,but I was stunned.

I wasn't shocked that Carmona handle Ramos so easily, not becasue of any first hand information that I had, but becasue of rumor's that I had heard of Ramos not training the way he should have.

This Memorial Day, an aging veteran of World War II remembers...
The Battle for Iwo Jima
By Larry Smith

They are all in their 80s now. But once—on Feb. 19, 1945—they stood trembling, young hearts pounding, as assault boats carried them to a small Pacific island called Iwo Jima and to one of the great battles of history. Nearly all of the 21,000 Japanese defenders perished; 6800 Americans were killed and more than 17,000 wounded. Those who survived are dying now of old age instead of bullets. This is the story of one of them.

Richard Nummer, now 82, dropped out of East Detroit High School to go to war in 1943. His brothers were in the Army, but he chose the Marines. “It was crazy,” he says, “but I just wanted to get where the action was.” After boot camp, he had the Marine Corps emblem tattooed on his arm, along with his serial number, 555685.

“We arrived at Iwo the night before the landing,” Nummer says. “The next morning they gave us steak and eggs. I went in with the fifth wave.

“As you ran up,” he remembers, “you’d tap a guy on the shoulder, and he’d run up a little farther, and you’d get in his hole, like leapfrogging. So I get in this hole and tap the guy on the shoulder and—nothing. He was gone.

“I was pinned down for maybe five minutes. I had a Bible. I read the 23rd Psalm, put it back in my pocket, and then a shell hit. I woke up the next day. There were bodies all around me. When I got to my company, the sergeant just shook his head. ‘We had you down KIA,’ he said. ‘Killed in action.’”

Five days later, Nummer found himself on Mount Suribachi, the Japanese Army’s last stronghold and the site of the most famous flag-raising in American history.

“We were the first Marines to sleep on top of Suribachi, six feet from the flag,” Nummer says. “On Feb. 27, my 19th birthday, we were taking turns on guard duty. My foxhole buddy had just got to sleep, and I kind of dozed off. It was so dark. Then I heard this noise, and I turned around and shot. But it was just the flag, snapping in the wind.

“For 40 years, I never talked about it, but soon as I saw that flag in a museum, I knew I put the hole in it. It’s right there—in the second stripe. Probably the most famous picture ever taken, and I stuck my little hole in it.

“I should have been court-martialed.”

One incident on Iwo Jima did have repercussions for Nummer years later. “One night,” he recalls, “off in the distance, I could see somebody running around. This figure kept coming closer, and it was getting darker. Pretty soon he got close enough to where he could hear me. I yelled out, ‘Tree!’ If he’s another Marine, he’s supposed to yell back, ‘Oak!’ or whatever. Nothing. ‘Car!’ I yell. He’s supposed to yell back, ‘Ford!’ or whatever. So I told him to drop his weapon. But he kept coming. Guys said, ‘Shoot!’

“My finger just froze on the trigger—and down he went.”

The next morning, a lieutenant congratulated Nummer and told him he could have any artifacts found on the body.

“I got his wallet and bayonet.”

Four decades later, these mementos of his 36 days on Iwo Jima haunted Nummer. “I had this wallet from this guy that I shot. It was no good to me, so I thought: I’ll send it back.”

He met three Japanese men at a car show in Denver, and one offered to take the papers to Japan.


“About a year later, I got a letter from the daughter of this guy that I’d shot. She was 40 years old, born 10 days after he left. Never knew her father. She was so happy that she finally knew what happened to her dad.”

The letter said:

Dear Mr. Nummer:

My name is Mrs. Kimie Sato, a daughter of Siguo Kubo, who was a soldier who died on Iwo Jima. I received my father’s papers from you... How I wish I could...see you and thank you. My heart was choked with memories of my grandparents and my mother...when I was handed the articles left by my father... They are treasures for me now... Thank you very much for your kindness.

Sincerely,
Kimie Sato

Later, “I went to Iwo Jima—1995, the 50th anniversary,” Nummer says. “Our plane landed late, so we were the last ones to get to the ceremony. They announced my name on the loudspeaker to come to the podium. So I went, and there was a package for me. Kimie had a nice tie for me, coasters, a tablecloth, different stuff she was so proud for me to have.

“Some people thought I was wrong by sending those papers back, but I don’t think so. They were no good to me, but to her they meant the whole world.”
Did she know Richard Nummer had killed her father?

“No,” he says. “I never did tell her that. Couldn’t do that.”

Adapted from “Iwo Jima: World War II Veterans Remember the Greatest Battle of the Pacific”

Dorothea Lange's famous photograph of the migrant mother was taken near
the agricultural town of Nipomo, California, which located a few miles north of
Santa Maria. In the vicinity of Nipomo during the 1920s and 1930s, peas were
a major crop which required a large number of migrant farmworkers, notably
young Filipino men, to pick them by hand during the harvesting season. Despite
the fact there were only about 30,000 Filipinos in California according to the
1930 U.S. Census, they were a very significant fan base in California during
the 1920s and 1930s.

Largely due to the presence of large numbers of Filipinos who worked in
the fields located in the vicinity of Nipomo, there were a lot of professional
boxing shows in the nearby small town of Pismo Beach during the 1920s and
1930s. As expected, the main events of boxing cards staged at Pismo Beach
usually featured a Filipino fighter at the time.

- Chuck Johnston

scartissue wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Scar
Regarding your inquiry on Gomez/Pasqualito. It was the only time I saw The Kid fight. It was typical of a lot of fights I saw in TJ when a Mexican national would fight another Latin American. This may have been the most intense rivalry down there. The TJ crowd would become hysterical pulling for their "compadre". As I recall,The Kid looked slick and countered well,but Gomez,motivated by the crowd,fought furiously. He went through everything The Kid put in front of him. His left hook to the body was menacing. On the other hand,the crowd sort of intimidated The Kid. It was not close from what I remember.

Another similar bout was Chango Carmona/Raimundo Dias. Dias had stopped Carmona in the previous bout somewhere in Mexico. I don't know the circumstances of the stoppage. But in the reurn at the bullring,it was all Carmona. He "flirled" away at Dias overwhelming him. All with the crowd in a fenzy.

Dago, thanks for the recap on Kid vs Gomez. Regarding Carmona, were you or Frank or Rick in any way shocked when he laid out Mando Ramos? He appeared to be a real killer and was coming off the Robertson stoppage, but was there any concern before the bout about what was to unfold?

Scartissue

Kid Pascualito
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Name: Kid Pascualito
Career Record: click
Birth Name: Valentín Galeano
Nationality: Paraguayan
Birthplace: Ñuatí, Paraguarí
Hometown: Asunción
Born: 1941-12-16
Died: 2006-05-13
Age at Death: 64
Stance: Orthodox

MEMORIAL DAY STORY

When I landed that job with the County of San Diego,it couldn't have happened at a better time. I was in a landscaping training school under the MAAC Project that led to the County job. It was working in the Agriculture Department,but they put me on a spray rig going out to various places in the County spraying herbicide on weeds. That was OK with me bacause I got to get out of the warehouse. Often the areas we went to were out in the country. I especially liked driving out to the foothills of San Diego County. Lots of acenery. Pine trees,tumble weeds,lakes,once in a while you'd see deer. Very peacefull untill we started that engine on the truck and began spraying. But to be honest, we didn't work that much. I soon learned what a civil service job was all about. I learned where all the good cafes were in the County. Sometimes I take the wife out for a drive and we eat breakfast.

My partner was an old timer originally from Iowa. Everyone called him "Tiz". His real name was Harold LaVerne Thomas. He said when he was a kid his grandmother nicknamed him "Tiz" and the name stuck. "Tiz" is a little peculiar I guess,but sounds better than Harold or Harry. Like I said his middle name was LaVerne. Forget that.

Tiz and me would go out somewhere waging war on the weeds of San Diego County. We hit it off right away because I'd played a lttle football in college and "Tiz" was a highschool star in the state of Iowa. He played in the day of leather helmets. His state all star team was a good one he told me. Niles Kinnick,the Heisman Trophy winner, was on the team. Kinnick was killed in World War II. The University of Iwa named their stadium after him. Well "Tiz" was in the big one too. His National Guard outfit was one of the first to go. They sent his outfit to North Africa. They were at the Kasserine Pass. Rommel's guys were pretty rough on the GI's.
"We were green as hell,""Tiz" told me. He got wounded at Kasserine.

When I told Tiz my dad was at Okinawa that cemented our relationship. He thought the world of my dad,yet never met him. I liked that he felt that way. He called my dad "That kid." I believe my father was older than "Tiz". "Tiz" told me he was 19 when he went into the Army. By God after all those years he was still trim. Not that he exercised. He just never had much of an appetite. But "Tiz" had quite a thirst. He was always drinkin'. There was a bar near his house called "Sugar Lous". I think he spent more time there than at hime. His wife was very shy and respectable. I know she worried about her huband's drinking.

One day we're out in the rig and "Tiz" starts talking about Joe Louis. To be honest, growing up in Iowa in the 20's and 30's leaned you towards being a lttle prejuduced. Like "Tiz" said,"We just didn't see coloreds in Iowa." That's a thin excuse for feeling wrong about a race of people,but that's the way it was in those days.

However Joe Louis was dfferent with "Tiz". He admired Louis's fighting ability and the way he conducted himself in public. "Tiz" told me a story about how Joe Louis was fighting exhibitions at the camps and the Champ came to where "Tiz" was stationed at Ft, Bragg. It was just before they shipped out to Africa. Well "Tiz" told me his Sergaent thought he was the toughest SOB on the base. When they heard Joe Louis was going to box an exhibition at Ft. Bragg,"Tiz's" platoon talked their Sergaent into going into the ring with Joe Louis. I guess their Sergaent had to go through with it not lose face. "Tiz" laughed as he remembered that day.
"Louis was just messing with him when our Sergaent got a little bold and hit Joe on the break. Before you could blink our Sergaent was on his back from a Joe Louis left hook. Went about 6 inches. Our platoon couldn't hold back from laughini'"

I suppose that happened a lot at those camps during the War. Louis getting one in on a Sergaent. "Tiz" retired after a few years. He told me he was going"to throw in the towel", Well "Suger Lous" saw more and more of him after that. His liver started to give out. Shortly after he got so sick he couldn't keep his food down. His skin started to get yellow. When he died they buried him at Ft. Rosecrans,the military cemetary. His wife brought a wooden case to the ceremony. She opened it before putting the case in his casket. The case had his medals. I never saw so many. I figured he got a Purple Heart for getting wounded,but all the others surprised me. All the time I worked with the guy, he never talked about any medals. One,I know ,was a Bronze Star.

I left the County Agriculture job and became a teacher. I didn't like breathing in those chemicals. And besides, I missed working with "Tiz."

Scar, Dago, Frank and all---

This is what I know about the fight between Mando Ramos and Chango Carmona. Mando was in a training camp in Benning before this fight. He was messing up with drugs during this time so he was not in the best shape. However, he was a boxer that could hit, moving away from his opponent, but he was not an agressive puncher.This was a perfect style for Carmona. I was at this fight and noticed this right away. If you let Carmona come to you he is a killer. He will get you with a liver punch or a left hook and a right hand punch to the chin. Mando was too weak to hold him off. If Mando would have known Carmona's weakness, if you push Carmona back he is lost. He is off balance and doesn't know what to do.

If anyone has seen my fight against Carmona that Scartissue posted on this thread, you will notice how I kept pushing him back even though I wasn't always hitting him hard. He couldn't figure out where to hit me. That was my whole strategy. Jacky McCoy told me to just carry him on. The fight could have ended much earlier.

El Gato

Alexis Arguello and Sugar Ray Robinson[/quote]

This photo was taken at the Main St. Gym in 1973, when Arguello was training for his featherweight title fight with Ruben Olivares. I remember the headgear, he was wearing it when I sparred with him.

-Rick

'Allensworth: 100 Years of the California Dream' at the California African American Museum
California State Parks, 2008

RECORDING HISTORY: "Oscar Overr and horse in Allensworth," is part of “Allensworth: 100 Years of the California Dream,” at the California African American Museum.

Now a state park, the African American community was founded a century ago. An exhibit marks the milestone.

By Lynell George, Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

Out of the post-Reconstruction rubble, Col. Allen Allensworth, a retired African American army chaplain, pieced together a dream.

In 1908, Allensworth, a prominent Los Angeles resident, along with several other enterprising African American men (and their families), started a settlement 40 miles north of Bakersfield, in central California's http://www. co.tulare.ca.us/about/allensworth.asp

Their 900-acre community was christened Allensworth, named after the man whose dream it was to build a black self-governed and self-sufficient colony. It would be a place, he hoped, where African Americans would "settle upon the bare desert and cause it to blossom as a rose."

To mark the 100th anniversary of its founding, a new exhibit, "Allensworth: 100 Years of the California Dream," recently opened at the California African American Museum. It chronicles the story of the all-black township -- its utopian beginnings, its hopeful middle period, its waning years and ultimately its designation as historic state park (in 1974) and piece-by-piece restoration. (The show is the result of a collaboration among CAAM, the California Department of Parks and Recreation and the California Community Empowerment Foundation.)

Allensworth was born into slavery in Kentucky in 1842. His idea, says historian, archivist and exhibition curator Susan D. Anderson, was "to found a town that would be a civic model so that Americans couldn't have any justification for Jim Crow. Allensworth was a 'sentiment maker' -- today we would call it influencing public opinion -- so his idea was to 'transform the public sentiment.' "

Allensworth was part of a little-known movement that was set in motion in reaction to the rise of Jim Crow, lynching and discriminatory statutes to uphold white supremacy that became prevalent in the South after the Civil War.

"It's the period after Reconstruction, from 1877 to 1917, that in my opinion is the least studied period of American history," Anderson said.

At its most dynamic, Allensworth township boasted 400 residents as well as its own voting and school districts, the first branch of the Tulare County library and the first black justice of the peace in the state.

Although Allensworth died in 1914, killed by a "reckless motorcyclist" in Monrovia, the spirit of Allensworth, the town, wouldn't die. Even though the town began to struggle -- most dramatically, says Anderson, when the Sante Fe Railroad moved the depot and when low water levels in the region made it difficult for farmers to irrigate their crops -- the town chugged on.

"I know a lot of people who went to school there in the '30s, '40s and '50s and others who attended the Baptist church, which also served as a meeting place," said Anderson, who said she found it sad that so few people knew about Allensworth and its larger story -- "the role African Americans have played in this country's growth."

Along the way, a headline in a magazine profile about Allensworth stuck: "The Town That Refused to Die." But Anderson believes the town and its memory have come to stand for something much more profound and nuanced: "The elegance, grace and power of this culture."

[email protected]

El Gato wrote:Scar, Dago, Frank and all---

This is what I know about the fight between Mando Ramos and Chango Carmona. Mando was in a training camp in Benning before this fight. He was messing up with drugs during this time so he was not in the best shape. However, he was a boxer that could hit, moving away from his opponent, but he was not an agressive puncher.This was a perfect style for Carmona. I was at this fight and noticed this right away. If you let Carmona come to you he is a killer. He will get you with a liver punch or a left hook and a right hand punch to the chin. Mando was too weak to hold him off. If Mando would have known Carmona's weakness, if you push Carmona back he is lost. He is off balance and doesn't know what to do.

If anyone has seen my fight against Carmona that Scartissue posted on this thread, you will notice how I kept pushing him back even though I wasn't always hitting him hard. He couldn't figure out where to hit me. That was my whole strategy. Jacky McCoy told me to just carry him on. The fight could have ended much earlier.

El Gato

Rodolfo . . .

This past week I gave a copy of your fight with Carmona to Warren Boyd, the exec. producer you met last week. The next day, after watching the tape, he commented on how Carmona seemed lost when facing your strength. That fight shows you literally pushing back Carmona. Everytime he would try to lay in on you, you would push him off and then whack him to the body and head. You were an unstoppable force in that fight. You and Jackie McCoy came up with the best strategy to win. In later years, Tommy Hearns would force Pepino Cuevas backwards, thus putting him in a position where he could not fight effectivly. Chango Carmona was no longer the same after losing to you. A few months later, on the undercard of your first defense against Ruben Navarro, Carmona would drop a decision to Jimmy Heair, and from there on be nothing more than an "opponent" for up & coming contenders. The fight ruined him, as was Ruben Navarro after he challenged you for the title.

-Rick

kikibalt wrote:
Alexis Arguello and Sugar Ray Robinson

This photo was taken at the Main St. Gym in 1973, when Arguello was training for his featherweight title fight with Ruben Olivares. I remember the headgear, he was wearing it when I sparred with him.

-Rick[/quote]


Do you know how old Sugar Ray Robinson was when this photo with Arguello was taken? He was 52, still training and sparring with the likes of Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez and Mike Nixon, to name a few. Keep in mind, he made his pro debut roughly 33 years prior to this photo, and had been retired for eight years, after more than 200 pro fights, and a long amateur career. There was only ONE "Sugar Ray" and only ONE "Golden Boy". Boxers can steal the nickname, as did another Rodolfo Gonzalez who fought under than name "Gato", but there is nothing that compares to the "originals" in boxing history.

-Rick

-Rick

Rick Farris wrote:

kikibalt wrote:
Alexis Arguello and Sugar Ray Robinson

This photo was taken at the Main St. Gym in 1973, when Arguello was training for his featherweight title fight with Ruben Olivares. I remember the headgear, he was wearing it when I sparred with him.

-Rick

Do you know how old Sugar Ray Robinson was when this photo with Arguello was taken? He was 52, still training and sparring with the likes of Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez and Mike Nixon, to name a few. Keep in mind, he made his pro debut roughly 33 years prior to this photo, and had been retired for eight years, after more than 200 pro fights, and a long amateur career. There was only ONE "Sugar Ray" and only ONE "Golden Boy". Boxers can steal the nickname, as did another Rodolfo Gonzalez who fought under than name "Gato", but there is nothing that compares to the "originals" in boxing history.

-Rick

-Rick[/quote]


You're right Rick about Suger Ray being the one and only. I wrote about this before when Robinson was on the Edward R. Morrow show. Robinson said he didn't like boxing. It was only a job. A way to make money.

Take a look at that photo. Everyone around the great Ray Robinson. Ray is loving every minute of it. I guess Ray was trying to feignt us on the Edward R. Morrow show that day.