Classic American West Coast Boxing

[El Gallo]

[quote="Chuck1052"]The huge stock market crash of 1929 signaled the beginning of the "Great Depression," the worst economic period in the history of the United States. It is a tough task to convey how how much more massive the depression of the 1930s was in comparison to the large economic downturn in the United States which started in 2008. By 1933, the U.S. unemployment rate was about 25% and the stock market dropped by close to 90% from its peak which it achieved in 1929. Despite some decreases in unemployment during the rest of the 1930s, the U.S. economic depression really didn't end until World War II.

The huge economic downturn hit professional boxing very hard in Los Angeles and the rest of the United States. As a result, it became much harder to attract fans unless there was a drastic decrease in ticket prices, generally leading to far smaller gates at boxing shows staged in the United States during the 1930s than during the 1920s. The effect was especially brutal when it came to Jack Doyle's boxing promotions at the Olympic Auditorium and Wrigley Field during the 1930s. Doyle
and his matchmaker, Wad Wadhams, seemed to hold things together despite some setbacks until 1933, one of the two worst years of the Great Depression along with 1932.

During 1933, the attendance was very low at so many of the boxing shows at the Olympic Auditorium, according to ringside reports in the Los Angeles Times. It is probable that the low attendance was the main reason why there were far fewer weekly boxing shows staged at the Olympic during that year than during any of the previous six years with Doyle as the promoter. For instance, there were only 11 shows staged at the Olympic during the first six months of 1933. After a boxing show at the Olympic on the 2nd of May, there wasn't another one there until the 25th of July.

Possibly the most crushing blow for Doyle and Wadhams was the large financial flop of the boxing show featuring world welterweight bout featuring the world welterweight championship bout between Young Corbett III, the champion, and Jimmy McLarnin which took place at Wrigley Field on May 29, 1933. It was reported that the gate of the show was only about $40,000. and the loss to Doyle was $20,000. Wadhams, the matchmaker for Doyle since the middle 1910s at Vernon and the Olympic Auditorium, was so distraught that he quit shortly afterwards. It appears that Doyle also was completely out of the picture before year ended.

- Chuck Johnston

[dagosd2000]

The Commission

About al I can do in the gym now is watch my grandson Adam go through the paces.Even the kids and the females can run circles around me. Getting old is a bitch especially when arthritis won't leave you alone. But I'm happy. I've come to terms with it. I watch Tiger Smalls get everyone to break a sweat, and I just sit there with the wives and girlfriends. There's also a few young ones waiting for mom or dad or big brother.

One pal I've made since I've been an observer is Tiger Smalls 15 year old daughter. I've gotten in with Smalls' family and it's a comfortable genuine feeling.Tiger's son Prince is an undefeated featherweight so far and I've taken an intersst in him. I've seen just about all his fights and I'm in his corner.

But as I can only watch,I get to chatting with Tiger's daughter as one my more pleasant diversions.. I'm sorry I don't know her name,but she doesn't know mine either(at least I think she doesn't)).I ask her about school, and being a teacher once, I get interested in how her studies are going.History was my subject so I ask her if she's interested with the topic. Especially black history.It bothers me somewhat when ethnic kids are oblivious to most of what went on in past. Granted, the books are telling more about foremost figures in black and Hispanic history,but the kids aren't latching on to it like I wish.But Tiger's daughter is startibg to ask me questions.
"Tell me about Martin Luther King,Who was Nelson Mandela?"
I feel I'm back in the classroom again with a very interested mind.

Awhile back I surprised her with a painting I did of Malcolm X. She was overjoyed. Last week she asked me about Harriet Tubman and the underground railroad.She couldn't get enough. Now she logs on to websites to find out information.After reading about Harriet Tubman,she asked me if I could do a painting of the famous lady.Of course. I want to keep the wheels rolling. So today I broke out the brushes and got to work. By Tuesday the canvas will be dry.I hope she'll be thrilled, and if she is, that will thrill me.There's something about someone who has passion that makes my heart beat faster.That's the kind of company I like to hang with.



Harriet Tubman

[dagosd2000]

The Commission Part 2

I put the painting inside the trunk of my car. Adam and his friend got in the back seat and we started our way to the gym. When we arrived I left the painting in the trunk.We walked inside the gym. I didn't see Tiger's daughter. Adam and his friend wrapped their hands to get ready for their workout. The class wasn't going to start for about 10 minutes.I saw Tiger's son Prince sitting on the ring apron next to his father. Prince was talking to a young woman who was asking him questions pertaining with something to do about boxing. I couldn't get the gist of it. He caught me out of the corner of his eye.
"What's up champ?,"he said extending his hand.
"Got anything lined up?"I asked.
"Nothing,but I'll let you know."
"What's your sister's name?I did a painting for her."
"You did a painting of her?"
"No,I did a painting of someone else."
"Her name is Prisha."
Tiger was looking at something on his phone.He gave me a handshake and then continued looking at the phone moving his finger up and down on the screen.I told my grandson that I was going to the 7 Eleven to get my coffee. I walked back to my car before going back inside the gym and opened the trunk of my car. I took out the painting I did of Harriet Tubman.Then I saw Tiger's daughter sitting on the bench talking to a black girl who waiting ready for the class to begin.The conversation paused as the girl picked out a jump rope. I handed Tiger's daughter the painting.She took the painting ,glanced at it,and continued talking to the girl. They were talking about cosmetics. I noticed some blue paint had gotten on Tiger's daughter's hands.
"I guess it's still a little wet,"I said."It will come off with soap and water."
The girl she was talking to looked at the painting. Tiger's daughter asked her if she recognized the person in the painting. She stared, moving her head, and didn't say anything. Tiger's daughter said it was Harriet Tubman. The girl walked onto the mat and began skipping rope
"Hold the painting around the edges,"I said to Tiger's daughter.
She got up suddenly.
"I think I'll put it in the car,"she said.
"Let me take a picture of you with the painting.I'll post it on the forum"
"Not now,"she answered.
Tiger's daughter got up and walked to the bathroom.

Tiger was watching everyone skip rope. Then he told the class to pair up , put on the gloves, and begin sparring. After five minutes of light sparring,Tiger explained what combinations he wanted to see his students execute.
"I'm not a picture person,"said Tiger's daughter as we watched the class.
"Did you want to take a picture holding the painting with you dad?"
"No,"she said looking straight ahead.
Tiger told the class to yake off their gloves and give him three laps. The girl that Tiger's daughter was talking to took of her gloves off and came over to the bench. She didn't run with the class,but resumed talking about cosmetics with Tiger's daughter.

[dagosd2000]

Archie Moore

[BoxBuzz]

Push,Pull,Evolve

We remember the words he said while he was appealing his case before the Supreme Court.
"No Viet Cong never called me a n====r."
If he'd gone to Viet Nam they probably would have called him something to that effect. He also said that no Viet Cong had "raped his mother." No white person never did either.And he also didn't want to go to Viet Nam because he didn't "want to kill black people."The only black people over there at the time were U.S. servicemen.By the way, Vietnamese women who had babies with U.S. servicemen over there where considered outcasts and the woman were more than glad to put their kids on the next flight back to the States to get adopted,especially if the father was a black man.

He said all white people were devils.I wonder how Angelo felt about that,Gene Kilroy his finance manager,and his Louisville backers?He said he practiced Islam,but left his second wife Belinda who was a true believer and stuck by his side during the three and a half years he was banished from the ring. He tried his hand at acting in the play"Buck White"and would come out on the stage talking about being a slave and getting whipped and hung from the tallest tree.

The state of Georgia commision hood winked the fight world into granting him a license(pissed off Lester Maddox) and he beat Jerry Quarry. Prior to the fight the Supreme Court had ruled against him(5 to 3.Thurgood Marshall sitting it out),but then later the court overturned their decision saying that his due process was violated.

He turned to Elijah Muhammad at the start,became close to Malcolm X,but when he denounced the leader of the Nation of Islam,the heavyweight champ abandoned his friend. Later ,after Elijah Muhammad died,he became a follower of his son,Wallace,who embraced ALL muslims regardless of skin color.Martin Luther King considered him dangerous,but changed his stance later and they were arm in arm.

When Iran held the hostages,he offered to swap himself in their place. It wasn't the chickens coming home to roost because the hostages were white and probably all Christians. In 2005 he was awarded the Medal Of Peace by a President who also didn't go to Viet Nam. Before that, blacks like Jackie Robinson and Floyd Patterson denounced his refusal to enter the military even though they never served their country.Joe Louis once stated that he was against his stance because he wouldn't bear arms. Neither did Joe. He never left the States.The champ was offered the same deal,but refused.

So what does all this mean?Everyone remembers him climbing up and lighting the torch at the Olympic games in LA. They didn't choose Frazier or Foreman. They were also Gold Medalists.

But things change over time. White men aren't all devils like black men aren't still playing the race card. Bringing up the rhetoric of the Civil rights movement is a very worn record.I believe the truth is always a moving target, and sometimes it isn't worth hitting it.

Few life stories are simple. All of us have a mix of devils and angels on our shoulders. The best of us appreciate the nuances and render judgments carefully.

[dagosd2000]

Donut Holes

"I think I'll go get a dozen donuts to go along with the coffee,"I said to our condominium's home owners association board committee.
The monthly meeting was to begin at 6 o'clock by the pool. It was my third time in twenty years that I had joined the board.I'd get back on it when I'd see things start to get out of hand. Fees going up every year and the quality of the complex going down. Usually it's a case of having anal people who run for this thing who have a personal agenda, or want to get on a power trip and write violation notices like having a towel draped over a railing or a cardboard box in the carport.Meanwhile, they aren't on top of things like how vendors are charging the homeowners for work they aren't doing or just overcharging period. No look open end contracts that are eating us alive while the focus and bickering is on what color to paint the trim on the buildings.I have to get back in there to straighten out the messes. The owners want me on the board. They know I don't mind a confrontation.They don't have it in them to face a real problem.They won't get on the board because it's a hassle. So now it's off to the donut shop.

The donut shop is owned by a middle aged couple from Cambodia.Their daughter,their only child, went to school with my kids growing up. She had good grades. She got a grant to go to UC Riverside where she majored in sociology.She's works as a paralegal in Orange County as an interpreter for Cambodian refugees who have legal issues.Their parents talk about her all the time.

The husband and wife work very hard at their donut shop.They wake up at one in the morning,go to the shop and make the donuts for the day, and open at five.The shop is open everyday. They make great donuts. They have quite a clientele. I notice the American flag on the wall behind the counter. As they were putting together my order I asked a question.
"Do you ever resent the fact that the U.S. bombed Cambodia during the Vietnam War?"I asked the wife.
She looked at me with a slight smile.Some of her front teeth were missing,but she was still very pretty.Very cute and shy.In spite of her age she was somewhat childlike.
"I don't remember that."
"The American public was unaware of that at the time.We knew the Viet Cong were crossing into Cambodia and Laos to hide from the U.S. military. That all came out later."
"Yes,I hear something about that. We live in the mountains so we don't know.That was at the border."
"I guess the guy who took over afterwards,Pol Pot,was a pretty ruthless man."
She was putting the donuts in a box as she elaborated.
"I remember having to leave my village and go live in the jungle. One scoop of rice to eat. The soldiers put many people in jail. Not a real jail,but inside a wall.You could not leave.After awhile then they kill you."
"That must have been terrible ,"I said trying to say something relevant.
The wife then started to break down. I could see tears welling up in her eyes.
"They kill 21 of my family."
I couldn't respond. Then I could see that she was gathering herself.
"But I am very lucky. I here in United States."she said now fully composed.
I knew now I could get back into the conversation.
"That's wonderful,"I said.
She was showing her missing teeth again.
"You're here. Your daughter was born here.Went to school here.She has a great career. We all love your donuts. We are all glad you are here."
The wife closed the box with the donuts and handed it to me.I paid her ,but she gave me back half my money .
"Please.you can have free donuts today,"she said. She seemed very happy and fully recovered.
I didn't want to insult her and so I thanked her very sincerely.
"I'll see you around.Thanks again ,"I said as I started to leave.
She didn't say anything,but when I looked over my shoulder,I saw her looking at a photograph of her daughter that she had taped below the flag.

Later,at the pool,the home owners began on time. At first we have an open forum where the owners can bring up issues and ideas to the board.One of the owners,a big peroxided blond woman, was upset because the gardening crew had removed a shrub from the center island in front of her unit.She wanted to know when we were going to do something about it.
"This place is beginning to look like the Sahara desert,"she whined.
The woman was wearing one of those short pants that had the word"Pink" printed on on. The shorts looked a couple of sizes too small for her.
"The gardener said the plant had a virus,"I replied.
"Well I don't care,"she shot back. "I always liked looking at it from my balcony in the morning when I had my coffee."
"I'll talk to him about replacing it,"I said.
I don't know if the woman heard me because she was intently looking at the donuts inside the box. She grabbed a chocolate one and stuffed half of it in her mouth.

[dagosd2000]

My wife Maria,to her right my nephew Chelis and his wife Rebecca, To my wife's left her uncle, Rafael.On the front porch of her uncle's ranch. Paredonnes,Michoacan. Two years ago bandits raided his ranch,robbed him and then shot him dead. The ranch is abandoned now and his wife and children have moved to Sacramento to live with relatives.The children go to school and work in the fields as pickers in the summer. Their mother cleans houses.

[dagosd2000]

My Country Is Better Than Yours

My wife said that she was ready to go and said that when I was ready we could leave.We were going to take the dogs down to Tijuana to stay with our daughter before we went off to Spain for three weeks. I told her that I wanted to watch the finish of the World Cup match with Mexico against the Netherlands.Then we could go.

It looked like a lead pipe cinch for Mexico. They were playing the game 250 miles from the Equator. The Netherlands team looked like they had a hard time dealing with the heat and humidity.They were bigger physically and heavier and they looked sluggish. The Mexicans seemed lighter on their feet and a lot quicker. They were attacking more. The score was tied at zero at halftime ,and shortly after the second period began Mexico scored.It was one nothing with five minutes to go. The Netherlands team was playing desperately.With little time remaining they tied it. After regulation the referee added six minutes of "extra time."Shortly into extra time one of the Netherlands' players was tripped inside the penalty area. it was,like so many calls in those games,controversial. But the Netherlands converted the penalty kick and survived to win and go on.Mexico was eliminated.So me and the wife got in the car with the dogs and headed to TJ.

We crossed the border without much of a line . The traffic was unusually light for a Sunday. After winding through the Mexican customs area the road went into the city proper. It looked like the movie On The Beach when everybody is gone because of the nuclear attack.The city was almost empty of cars and pedestrians. The people I did notice were ambling along. Some of them were wearing Mexican soccer jerseys.It was hot and hazy outside.For a big city,it was very quiet.There was a lot of glare from the windows of the buildings and from the chrome and windshields of the cars.

When we arrived at my daughter's place in Canon Jhonson I saw some of the neighborhood people sitting on the curb in the street. They weren't saying much.They saw me and the wife get out of the car.I let the dogs out and opened the trunk to get out the things the dogs would be needing for their three week stay. They'd be happy to see their mother and father and their brother. Between my daughter and my grandchildren and great grandchildren,I know the dogs will have plenty of company and attention.

We stayed for an hour and my daughter made us quesadillas. My grandughters were there with the great grandchildren. They probably didn't watch the soccer game. If they did,they didn't mention it. Their husbands were outside with what was left of the people who must have watched the game somewhere around there. A little later they climbed the stairs to the apartment and came inside.They didn't say too much about the game. They asked if I had watched it. I said that Mexico had it won,then let it go. It was something safe to say and I didn't get any argument.One of my granddaughter's husbands said that was typical of how Mexico plays in a big game.I didn't say anything. It just seemed the whole thing was obvious. The way it turned out.

But I know that if Mexico had won,there would have been crowds in the streets celebrating. It would have been something to cheer about in a country that hasn't been cheering too much lately.That's the way it is with the World Cup.If my team beats your team it goes further than a score.Your country may have more than my country,but if my team wins you can have what you have and I'll be happy knowing that we have something that you ain't got...a better soccer team.Talk about living your life through something.

[dagosd2000]

Last painting before I go on vacation. Mantequilla Napoles.

[raylawpc]

The huge stock market crash of 1929 signaled the beginning of the "Great Depression," the worst economic period in the history of the United States. It is a tough task to convey how how much more massive the depression of the 1930s was in comparison to the large economic downturn in the United States which started in 2008. By 1933, the U.S. unemployment rate was about 25% and the stock market dropped by close to 90% from its peak which it achieved in 1929. Despite some decreases in unemployment during the rest of the 1930s, the U.S. economic depression really didn't end until World War II.

The huge economic downturn hit professional boxing very hard in Los Angeles and the rest of the United States. As a result, it became much harder to attract fans unless there was a drastic decrease in ticket prices, generally leading to far smaller gates at boxing shows staged in the United States during the 1930s than during the 1920s. The effect was especially brutal when it came to Jack Doyle's boxing promotions at the Olympic Auditorium and Wrigley Field during the 1930s. Doyle and his matchmaker, Wad Wadhams, seemed to hold things together despite some setbacks until 1933, one of the two worst years of the Great Depression along with 1932.

During 1933, the attendance was very low at so many of the boxing shows at the Olympic Auditorium, according to ringside reports in the Los Angeles Times. It is probable that the low attendance was the main reason why there were far fewer weekly boxing shows staged at the Olympic during that year than during any of the previous six years with Doyle as the promoter. For instance, there were only 11 shows staged at the Olympic during the first six months of 1933. After a boxing show at the Olympic on the 2nd of May, there wasn't another one there until the 25th of July.

Possibly the most crushing blow for Doyle and Wadhams was the large financial flop of the boxing show featuring world welterweight bout featuring the world welterweight championship bout between Young Corbett III, the champion, and Jimmy McLarnin which took place at Wrigley Field on May 29, 1933. It was reported that the gate of the show was only about $40,000. and the loss to Doyle was $20,000. Wadhams, the matchmaker for Doyle since the middle 1910s at Vernon and the Olympic Auditorium, was so distraught that he quit shortly afterwards. It appears that Doyle also was completely out of the picture before year ended.

- Chuck Johnston

Very interesting, Chuck. Thanks for sharing.

[evrenb]

Art Aragon...Then

Art Aragon...Now

Reminds me a little of Captain Kirk in his later years.....

[dagosd2000]

Absence Of Thought

In the oldest city in Western Europe in its oldest section ,Sants Maria,is located the Teatro de Flamenco which was once a convent for the nuns.The Santa Maria part of Cadiz is a maze of narrow stoned streets that turn and wind around in a unspecified way with many of the names of the streets named after Flamenco artists who lived in Cadiz,and outside of of that aren't known to many others,But that's not important anyway because the people there go about their way of living not concerned about what other people think.The bodegas and cafes serve the usual clientele at the same hours of the day and people who live in the old buildings talk to the people that they've known all their that are down on the streets .

The Santa Maria teatro is next to the small and beautiful church that was built more than five hundred years ago. I sometimes sit inside the church while my granddaughter is practicing inside the theater.There is another church that is just as old and much larger a few blocks away,but I like sitting inside the smaller church next to the Flamenco theater because there are hardly any people inside. They shut the doors of the salon where my granddaughter practices so I can't see her and that's why I sometimes sit inside the small church. Outside the theater is a man who I guess would be considered a security guard,but there's really no need for him to protect anything because the neighborhood is so calm and quiet.Sometimes a tourist will pass by,but there aren't many because the theater is away from the beach and any busy streets. Once in awhile he'll explain to the tourists what is going on inside,but the tourists never stay very long.

One day I approached him outside while he was smoking a cigarette.He always had these dark glasses on ,but I don't think it had to do with filtering the sun from his eyes as much as it was to try to hide the fact that one his eyes kind of took off in another direction.
"Was this DeStefano that popular in Spain?,"I asked him as he was smoking.
"Oh yes.He was very popular. At one time he was Spain's greatest football player."
"The news made quite a fuss about his death."
"Oh yes.He played on Spain's greatest team Real Madrid.He was very popular."
The security guard seemed to have a knowledge of sports so I tied something else.
"Do you remember a Spanish fighter named Pedro Carrasco?"
"Of course,"he smirked."He was very popular also."
"He won the championship here didn't he?"
"Yes,and after that married the famous Flamenco artist and made television appearances and starred in the movies."
Now I had him where I wanted.
"But wasn't his win against the Amercan controversial?"
"I don't recall,"he answered looking away from me.
"Didn't the referee disqualify the American?"
"That I don't know."
"Carrasco won the title lying flat on his back. The referee said he was fouled."
The security guard didn't respond.
"Mando Ramos had him down four times.Spain must have been very hungry to have a champion"
The security guard stomped out his cigarette and lit another one.
"How could the people here not see that Carrasco won the title dubiously?"
"Carrasco was very popular,"the security guard repeated.
"They fought two more times and Carrasco lost the rematch and the rubber match. I believe the rematch was here in Spain."
"Carrasco is dead,"said the security guard."One morning not too long ago he didn't wake up."
"Mando Ramos is dead too,"I said.
I don't think the security guard knew who Mando Ramos was. Not many in the U.S. did either. At one time he had everything going in LA. Arlene Eaton called him "her baby."Mando Ramos went into oblivion shortly after that . I went to his tribute they had for him in his hometown in Long Beach. His old fans were all there.He never married a famous Flamenco star or was on the television or was a matinee idol.I didn't tell the security guard about that.



Mando Ramos

[Chuck1052]

It appears that you had a nice time in Mexico, Roger. Welcome back.

Of the soccer players born in Argentina, Alfredo DiStefano, Diego Maradona and Lionel Messi all had a claim to being the greatest in the world during their prime years. All three of the mentioned players played for European clubs during much of their careers.

It was thought that the first Pedro Carrasco-Mando Ramos bout and the first Jose Napoles-Mando Muniz bout featured the most outrageous highway robberies in professional boxing during the 1970s.


- Chuck Johnston

[dagosd2000]

It appears that you had a nice time in Mexico, Roger. Welcome back.

Of the soccer players born in Argentina, Alfredo DiStefano, Diego Maradona and Lionel Messi all had a claim to being the greatest in the world during their prime years. All three of the mentioned players played for European clubs during much of their careers.

It was thought that the first Pedro Carrasco-Mando Ramos bout and the first Jose Napoles-Mando Muniz bout featured the most outrageous highway robberies in professional boxing during the 1970s.


- Chuck Johnston

Thanks Chuck,but we were in Spain.DeStefano and Messi had great stats,and so did Maradonna,but Maradona was on the World Cup championship team of '86.When the aficianados of the soccer world talk about who was the best of those 3,they put Maradona ahead because of the World Cup win(he also performed excellently).Pele is mentioned in the same breath also as the "greatest."It was quite a joke that Messi was awarded the most valuable player in the World Cup. In the last two games he was held in check and didn't score. He had a couple of opportunities, but couldn't finish.Like a lot of those big stars that leave their home countries to play abroad,Messi isn't loved in Argentina like Maradona. However if he had carried the team on his back like Maradona in '86,they would have made him a saint.

[Chuck1052]

I agree that giving Lionel Messi the best player award of the World Cup was a joke despite the fact he have a fairly good tournament. In my opinion, Messi's teammate, Javier Marscherano, had a better tournament.

I consider Diego Maradona and Pele the best soccer players ever.

- Chuck Johnston

[dagosd2000]

The Battler

"So how was Spain?"asked Ed the bartender as he was sweeping the floor behind the bar.
"Spain was nice,but it's tough to make a go of it there."
It was a hot morning.Ed had just opened up.Usually I don't drink in the daytime,but a beer sounded good to me.Ed stopped sweeping and drew me a cold tall one.
"What's been going on?"I asked him as he topped off the head on the glass.
"Nothing changes that much in three weeks."
"How's Burke doing?"I asked Ed about the ex Canadian fighter and trainer who used to own the bar he named Champs, but when his dementia got the best of him his grandson now had to run things.When Burke's girlfriend Shirley died suddenly,he was so far gone that he wasn't aware of it at the service. Maybe that was for his best.
"Burke's starting to get violent in the home,"answered Ed.
"How's his strength?"
"Oh,he's plenty strong.That's what makes it a problem,"said Ed as he resumed sweeping behind the bar.

I remember when Burke finally had had enough of fighting and began training fighters in San Diego. He had his own gym in North Park and there were plenty of good fighters who used to workout there.I remember Ken Norton and Hedgemon Lewis frequenting the place. Art Hafey,who was under Burke's wing, was there too. But Burke was losing money with the gym. Just say he was spending more than he was taking in.Not to mention all the gear that was pilfered from the joint.So Burke trained fighters at the old coliseum to keep his hand in it. You knew who was in charge.Burke didn't stand for any laziness and would throw all the deadbeats out.Sometimes I'd jump in there with some of the boys.I told you how Kenny Norton busted my nose. he brought that heavy left hand of his from his side and popped me one that started the blood running out my nostrils like a faucet.Burke put some ice wrapped in a towel on my mug and shoved my head back in the corner of the ring.He told me to hold it there and go to the showers.Didn't ask me how I was. I didn't want him too.

He was a good trainer about teaching tecniques. Though his record didn't show a lot of KO's he could really bang.Art Hafey gave him all the credit about how Burke taught him how to throw that big left hook turning his hips and using the back and shoulder muscles for leverage. Art made his living with that punch.But when it came to managing it was a different story.Burke had guys fighting too often at times and fighting guys that his guy had already beaten already. Then he'd take his guy to the other guy's back yard and that's not always easy or smart.Nobody made much money with him and neither did Burke.

Then when it was all over and fighting began to dry up in San Diego I saw him one day in Cronin's Bar,the local watering hole in the neighborhood. Burke was behind the bar setting them up and then when his shift was over he'd switch over to the other side of the rail.I never saw him buy a drink for himself.When the owners wanted out of the place,Burke was all in.With the help of his girlfriend Shirley,Burke was where he wanted to be.He switched the name of the bar to "Champs."Burke was the Canadian light heavy champ in the 50's for a time. He was happy.

He was happy alright and he was a genial sort even after putting it away all night.But I always knew that he was a guy you didn't get cute with. If he figured you were trying to take advantage he wouldn't hesitate about teaching the instigator the art of throwing a left hook.I saw it happen more than once. It was like second nature to him.Like many a battler,Burke liked to fight.It was nothing to him.He took plenty of beatings later in his career,but it didn't matter. It never worried him.Fighting was normal behavior.

When I'd see Burke in the last few years,when his mind began to wander,when he couldn't remember yesterday or even what you just asked him,when most of his conversation was about guys he fought or worked with years ago and were either dead or far away,and to look at his face though you didn't want to and see how misshapen it was and how the scared skin drooped over his bittersweet eyes,I'd think of that short story by Hemingway.The one he called "The Battler." About a similar pug who all that he had left was that he knew he could take it.That was his badge of honor.If you could take it that was all you could do.It was more important in the end than winning.

Now that I here that Burke is starting to think he's back in the ring at the home that he's in,I hope the doctors and nurses know when to duck.

[scartissue]

The Battler

"So how was Spain?"asked Ed the bartender as he was sweeping the floor behind the bar.
"Spain was nice,but it's tough to make a go of it there."
It was a hot morning.Ed had just opened up.Usually I don't drink in the daytime,but a beer sounded good to me.Ed stopped sweeping and drew me a cold tall one.
"What's been going on?"I asked him as he topped off the head on the glass.
"Nothing changes that much in three weeks."
"How's Burke doing?"I asked Ed about the ex Canadian fighter and trainer who used to own the bar he named Champs, but when his dementia got the best of him his grandson now had to run things.When Burke's girlfriend Shirley died suddenly,he was so far gone that he wasn't aware of it at the service. Maybe that was for his best.
"Burke's starting to get violent in the home,"answered Ed.
"How's his strength?"
"Oh,he's plenty strong.That's what makes it a problem,"said Ed as he resumed sweeping behind the bar.

I remember when Burke finally had had enough of fighting and began training fighters in San Diego. He had his own gym in North Park and there were plenty of good fighters who used to workout there.I remember Ken Norton and Hedgemon Lewis frequenting the place. Art Hafey,who was under Burke's wing, was there too. But Burke was losing money with the gym. Just say he was spending more than he was taking in.Not to mention all the gear that was pilfered from the joint.So Burke trained fighters at the old coliseum to keep his hand in it. You knew who was in charge.Burke didn't stand for any laziness and would throw all the deadbeats out.Sometimes I'd jump in there with some of the boys.I told you how Kenny Norton busted my nose. he brought that heavy left hand of his from his side and popped me one that started the blood running out my nostrils like a faucet.Burke put some ice wrapped in a towel on my mug and shoved my head back in the corner of the ring.He told me to hold it there and go to the showers.Didn't ask me how I was. I didn't want him too.

He was a good trainer about teaching tecniques. Though his record didn't show a lot of KO's he could really bang.Art Hafey gave him all the credit about how Burke taught him how to throw that big left hook turning his hips and using the back and shoulder muscles for leverage. Art made his living with that punch.But when it came to managing it was a different story.Burke had guys fighting too often at times and fighting guys that his guy had already beaten already. Then he'd take his guy to the other guy's back yard and that's not always easy or smart.Nobody made much money with him and neither did Burke.

Then when it was all over and fighting began to dry up in San Diego I saw him one day in Cronin's Bar,the local watering hole in the neighborhood. Burke was behind the bar setting them up and then when his shift was over he'd switch over to the other side of the rail.I never saw him buy a drink for himself.When the owners wanted out of the place,Burke was all in.With the help of his girlfriend Shirley,Burke was where he wanted to be.He switched the name of the bar to "Champs."Burke was the Canadian light heavy champ in the 50's for a time. He was happy.

He was happy alright and he was a genial sort even after putting it away all night.But I always knew that he was a guy you didn't get cute with. If he figured you were trying to take advantage he wouldn't hesitate about teaching the instigator the art of throwing a left hook.I saw it happen more than once. It was like second nature to him.Like many a battler,Burke liked to fight.It was nothing to him.He took plenty of beatings later in his career,but it didn't matter. It never worried him.Fighting was normal behavior.

When I'd see Burke in the last few years,when his mind began to wander,when he couldn't remember yesterday or even what you just asked him,when most of his conversation was about guys he fought or worked with years ago and were either dead or far away,and to look at his face though you didn't want to and see how misshapen it was and how the scared skin drooped over his bittersweet eyes,I'd think of that short story by Hemingway.The one he called "The Battler." About a similar pug who all that he had left was that he knew he could take it.That was his badge of honor.If you could take it that was all you could do.It was more important in the end than winning.

Now that I here that Burke is starting to think he's back in the ring at the home that he's in,I hope the doctors and nurses know when to duck.

Way cool story, Rog. I was reminded of the story of Vern Gagne, remember the former world wrestling champ who also was the original brains behind the WWF? Well, he too ended up in a home with alzeimers. I guess no one really knows the circumstances that was the catalyst, but he sent a fellow resident flying across the room with a move that he never forgot and the fellow resident died as a result of it. The family had to move him to some form of isolated care. Rough way to end ones days.

[dagosd2000]

Purple Diesel

My bud Dan Hanley asked me if I remember Verne Gagne.I sure do. When I was a kid back in Chicago we lived for a time outside the city in a suburb named Riverside. It was a far cry from Polk and Oakley Boulevard.Where as you learned street smarts in the dago neighborhood,Riverside was a carbon copy of Father Knows Best.At least tha was what the burg tried to aspire to be.However there were a lot of wise guys that lived in the vicinity.Sam Giancana lived down the road in Oak Park.Tony Accardo resided in River Forest. Frank Nitti lived near us,but that was before my time. When the boys told him that because he brought a couple of "rats" into the organization he could either wait to get whacked or whack himself. He opted for the latter.He blew his brains out at the railroad depot in front of one of the locals as it was pulling in.But back to verne Gagne.

Wrestling in the early 50's was a main staple on the TV tube along with boxing, and you could throw in Roller Derby.Milton Berle and Ed Sullivan provided live entertainment and I Love Lucy kept us from going to the picture shows at night.

We lived on the corner of Harlem Avenue and I think it was Addison Street.I know if you took Addison it was a straight shot to my grandfather's house,Diamond Joe's place that was now occupied by my grandmother,my aunt and her kids,my cousins Joey and Frankie.But I got to say living in Riverside was nice. It was cleaner and quieter and there wasn't the anxieties of having outsiders venture in and then you had to defend yourself.Aside from Frank Nitti,I don't remember anyone getting shot in Riverside. But maybe you can't count Nitti because he shot himself.

Our two story apartment building where we lived is still there.At least it was five years ago. I went back to Chicago after a long hiatus.Me and the wife went to the Windy City to visit her sister and her husband. I think they had just got their papers fixed so they could live here on the legit.But these people lived in the heart of the southside and I couldn't wait to get in their car and get the hell out of there. They're either a couple of dummies or they were trying to convince me that the area was paradise.Either way I told them that they should go back to Mexico. At least they could get killed by one of their own kind.

One day I took them all in their car to Riverside to show them where I lived.They'd lived in Chicago for 15 years and still didn't know their way around.They'd never been to Wrigley Field or the Field Museum. Haunts that I used to go to when I was a kid.So I would take them to those places.Oh,I think they all had a great time,but I know they haven't been back since. They're still working on how to speak English.All in all though I don't think they care about any of that.They visit their kids and grandkids that live in near by and that's enough for them.

When I took the crew to Riverside I parked the car in front of that old apartment building I lived in. It was a very hot humid Chicago summer afternoon. When I got out of the car there was nobody around. I mean no one. It was like Rod Serilng set this up. I could take Riverside in without any human distraction. I walked up to the apartment and for some reason put my face against the warm bricks on the side of the building. I closed my eyes and I could hear a fan running in one of the apartments.I walked around the building ,but there was a gate that prevented me from entering. I remember there was beauty shop in the basement.It didn't look like anything was there anymore.I remembered the old lady that had the parlor,Mrs. O'Brian. To ease my brain to think of adjectives to describe her,I'll tell you she reminded me of Edgar Bergan's dummy,Effie Kinker. Now the woman wasn't a dummy. She was a nice sweet old lady. She just looked like Effie Klinker. I don't think she was ever married.My mother would get her hair done there and I remember those big metal hairdryers with all the cords with the curlers that attached to your head. Those machines always scared me.It looked like you could get electrocuted.

Anyway, all Mrs. O'Brian could talk about was watching the wrestling on TV. Verne Gagne was her favorite. I don't know, maybe it was because he was a hunk rolling around with other dudes wearing a pair of bunhuggers or maybe it was because Verne Gagne was always the "hero".But i'm telling ya' that gal had a fatal attraction for the guy. I got to admit he was my favorite wrestler too,but Verne wasn't inside my head like it was in hers.I liked going down to that basement where Mrs. O'Brian's beauty parlor was,but it wasn't because I wanted to hear her talk about Verne Gagne. You see, that basement was a mess. Only the front part was the beauty parlor. In the back was a whole bunch of clutter. I think it was where the landlord stored all the junk.The stuff he didn't use.But the reason I liked to go back there was because there was a big strew of color photographs of diesel trains on the wall.. They were beautiful. It showed the trains going through the countryside and by rivers and streams. One diesel train always stayed with me,It's engine was painted a deep rich purple. I looked at the picture everytime I went down there. At one time I wanted to be a train engineer. But that was a long time ago.Maybe,well I don't want to get into that.Time goes on and besides,I can still always think about that picture wherever I am.

[dagosd2000]

Joltin' Joe DiMaggio.I painted him today.

[dagosd2000]

Purple Diesel

My bud Dan Hanley asked me if I remember Verne Gagne.I sure do. When I was a kid back in Chicago we lived for a time outside the city in a suburb named Riverside. It was a far cry from Polk and Oakley Boulevard.Where as you learned street smarts in the dago neighborhood,Riverside was a carbon copy of Father Knows Best.At least tha was what the burg tried to aspire to be.However there were a lot of wise guys that lived in the vicinity.Sam Giancana lived down the road in Oak Park.Tony Accardo resided in River Forest. Frank Nitti lived near us,but that was before my time. When the boys told him that because he brought a couple of "rats" into the organization he could either wait to get whacked or whack himself. He opted for the latter.He blew his brains out at the railroad depot in front of one of the locals as it was pulling in.But back to verne Gagne.

Wrestling in the early 50's was a main staple on the TV tube along with boxing, and you could throw in Roller Derby.Milton Berle and Ed Sullivan provided live entertainment and I Love Lucy kept us from going to the picture shows at night.

We lived on the corner of Harlem Avenue and I think it was Addison Street.I know if you took Addison it was a straight shot to my grandfather's house,Diamond Joe's place that was now occupied by my grandmother,my aunt and her kids,my cousins Joey and Frankie.But I got to say living in Riverside was nice. It was cleaner and quieter and there wasn't the anxieties of having outsiders venture in and then you had to defend yourself.Aside from Frank Nitti,I don't remember anyone getting shot in Riverside. But maybe you can't count Nitti because he shot himself.

Our two story apartment building where we lived is still there.At least it was five years ago. I went back to Chicago after a long hiatus.Me and the wife went to the Windy City to visit her sister and her husband. I think they had just got their papers fixed so they could live here on the legit.But these people lived in the heart of the southside and I couldn't wait to get in their car and get the hell out of there. They're either a couple of dummies or they were trying to convince me that the area was paradise.Either way I told them that they should go back to Mexico. At least they could get killed by one of their own kind.

One day I took them all in their car to Riverside to show them where I lived.They'd lived in Chicago for 15 years and still didn't know their way around.They'd never been to Wrigley Field or the Field Museum. Haunts that I used to go to when I was a kid.So I would take them to those places.Oh,I think they all had a great time,but I know they haven't been back since. They're still working on how to speak English.All in all though I don't think they care about any of that.They visit their kids and grandkids that live in near by and that's enough for them.

When I took the crew to Riverside I parked the car in front of that old apartment building I lived in. It was a very hot humid Chicago summer afternoon. When I got out of the car there was nobody around. I mean no one. It was like Rod Serilng set this up. I could take Riverside in without any human distraction. I walked up to the apartment and for some reason put my face against the warm bricks on the side of the building. I closed my eyes and I could hear a fan running in one of the apartments.I walked around the building ,but there was a gate that prevented me from entering. I remember there was beauty shop in the basement.It didn't look like anything was there anymore.I remembered the old lady that had the parlor,Mrs. O'Brian. To ease my brain to think of adjectives to describe her,I'll tell you she reminded me of Edgar Bergan's dummy,Effie Kinker. Now the woman wasn't a dummy. She was a nice sweet old lady. She just looked like Effie Klinker. I don't think she was ever married.My mother would get her hair done there and I remember those big metal hairdryers with all the cords with the curlers that attached to your head. Those machines always scared me.It looked like you could get electrocuted.

Anyway, all Mrs. O'Brian could talk about was watching the wrestling on TV. Verne Gagne was her favorite. I don't know, maybe it was because he was a hunk rolling around with other dudes wearing a pair of bunhuggers or maybe it was because Verne Gagne was always the "hero".But i'm telling ya' that gal had a fatal attraction for the guy. I got to admit he was my favorite wrestler too,but Verne wasn't inside my head like it was in hers.I liked going down to that basement where Mrs. O'Brian's beauty parlor was,but it wasn't because I wanted to hear her talk about Verne Gagne. You see, that basement was a mess. Only the front part was the beauty parlor. In the back was a whole bunch of clutter. I think it was where the landlord stored all the junk.The stuff he didn't use.But the reason I liked to go back there was because there was a big strew of color photographs of diesel trains on the wall.. They were beautiful. It showed the trains going through the countryside and by rivers and streams. One diesel train always stayed with me,It's engine was painted a deep rich purple. I looked at the picture everytime I went down there. At one time I wanted to be a train engineer. But that was a long time ago.Maybe,well I don't want to get into that.Time goes on and besides,I can still always think about that picture wherever I am.

Just after I wrote this piece,my wife gets a phone call from her sister's husband in Chicago. I guess today the both of them were waiting at a stop light near their house and some crazy dude walkrd up to the passenger window and hits my sister in law in the head with a brick. I don't know how bad it is,but like I was saying that area of Chicago has the highest murder rate in the country. We're waiting to see how things will turn out. Let you know.God bless.

[dagosd2000]

What Am I?

There's a correlation between the athlete and the dancer. In time ,the body will diminish and the execution does not deliver the desired results. The mind still grows,but the body slows and the paths of finally understanding what is to be done and physical prowess don't converge later on.Ali at the end of his career knew more about how to fight than he did when he won the title from Liston,but there's never been a fountain of youth for humans let alone an athlete.ALi knew more about how to execute his skills,but Father Time(and all the shots he took)had injured the neurotransmitters that made him once float like a butterfly morph into a broken winged moth. That's why steroids are still out there, and I'm sure the aging(or secondary athlete)want the scientist to come up with something that can hide the chemicals they can put into their bodies to prolong the standard of performance that the aspire to.

The dancer is in the same boat with the jock. The window for the dancer closes eventually like death and taxes and the hoofer will see that he has finally understood what he's doing when he begins to lose his legs. The dancers and athletes. They are artists both. It's sad,and for myself, to think that many of the retired are now without aim. "What am I?"they ask.Give back.Give back to the young and hopeful who worshipped you .Coaching,teaching are in the same breath.

Hopefully, the lessons they've learned can be passed on and the twain of skill and an athletic peak will come together early.Early enough so that window will be more than a slit when it finally shuts.














Amanda at 9 years of age dancing in Seville Spain



My granddaughter this summer age 18 dancing in Cadiz,Spain. The window is opening nicely.

[dagosd2000]

Postscript

I haven't written about Archie Moore in a long time because I've run out of my Archie Moore stories.I think I've squeezed everthing out of it. Maybe I could contrive something else,but I think I've exhausted what I remember about him.Besides, I hardly knew him.I used to give him a hand at his boys' club ,Any Boy Can,after I'd get off work in National City from the school for handicapped kids.I bumped into him at Huffman's Barbeque in Logan once and we ate barbeque and talked. Nothing about boxing. We talked about jazz music.

But anyone who circulated in southeast San Diego during the time after Archie quit fighting would sooner or later meet up with him. His face was commonplace.He erected that brick house with the swimming pool that was the shape of a boxing glove in the back. You can still see the house from the freeway as you pass by.It's now a swinger venue for gays.I posted a picture of the front of the house on the thread some years back. Like San Diego native Ted Williams parents' old house in North Park,the city didn't make it a landmark.But at least Ted's old house is still rented out. Archie's place ,I guess,is more lively,but I don't think he would approve if he could see what is going on now.

Archie Moore was a throwback to the days of Joe Louis and Henry Armstrong. He'd be over a hundred today if he was still kickin'. He was old school.He never took to Cassius and it was likewise.After Rome, Clay looked up Archie at his camp in Ramona,but the relationship didn't last long. Archie's old fashioned wisdom and discipline bounced off the young Olympic Gold medalist. Cassius Clay found an easier mark with Angelo who knew that if he wanted to succeed with Clay he would have to let go of the reins.

Moore told me (and everone within earshot)that he thought Clay(then soon to be Ali)was disrespectful and immature.When Cassius called the round and stood over the old guy in Los Angeles ,Moore never forgot. There was no healing process.Archie was in Georger Foreman's corner in Zaire when Ali shocked the world a second time.You can see Archie putting George's robe back on him after the finish. Two lonely figures.

Archie Moore will never get the acclaim that Ali still has to this day. No fighter will ever get that.Archie Moore was a local guy in San Diego. Though he never fought in San Diego after he finally got his shot at a title and could put the belt around his waist,Moore was a one of the often seen. His kids went to school in the neighborhood. You'd see Archie at the Martin Luther King Parade at Ocean View Park every year. You'd see him at C&M Meats buying his chicken and chops for his annual block party that he put on in the neighborhood.Sometimes he'd visit his handlers Charley Johnston and Doc Kearns at brother Bob Johnston's burlesque house on Market Street. Archie used to like to eat breakfast at the old Mission Bakery up the street and then buy a bag of bagels and take them home. Whether it was Chuy's Mexican Restaurant where Archie would go over recipe's with Chuy the owner (with his handlebar mustache),sit down in the chair at Gary's barbershop (where they cut the black people's hair),or visit the kids laid out with TB at the old central hospital downtown,Ol' Arch was never at a loss for words.

The peers he ran with are just about gone.I bet they had some great Archie Moore stories.I bet Archie's five wives had some great stuff they could have passed along too.I'm lucky I got to know him a little. I think anyone who came across the champ would say the same thing.


Archie Moore

[dagosd2000]

The Crash

I took my grandson Adam to the gym yesterday. After three weeks away from it enjoying the beach in Spain,it was time for him to get serious again.Three weeks is a good break.He got a good rest.In fact he put on six useful pounds. Seeing the girls sunbathe topless can get your mind off a lot a things.But I was glad to hear that Adam wanted to put on the gloves again once we got home.

As we were in the car heading towards the gym,we saw dark smoke rising from behind some buildings across the street from the gym. We said something thinking it wasn't anything that bad. A car on fire.Maybe someone tossed a lighted cigarette.. It was really hot yesterday. We thought it maybe had something to do with the heat.

I'm pretty anal when it comes to time.I leave Adam's house at ten after five to go to the gym.We arrive around twenty after. Adam warms up shadow boxing and I usually look for Tiger Smalls and his son Prince.They weren't around. Liz Carmouche,the MMA fighter was working behind the desk and said that Tiger's schedule had been changed. He and Prince were at the Mission Gorge gym.

Like I said,it was hot yesterday. Not many people in the gym. I don't know if it was because Tiger didn't have the class or it was because of the heat.The class starts at 5:30 so before it begins I walk across the street to the 7/11 for a coffee and then come back to watch Adam. As I was crossing the street,I began to hear sirens.About a half a dozen black and whites and a couple of fire trucks raced by in front of me. Close behind were two Medevac units.It figured they were going to the fire.

I got the coffee , walked back to the gym, and sat on the bench to watch my grandson.Then, entering the gym, was a girl around my grandson's age. I knew her and her mother. The girl was in the same class as Adam.Like Adam ,she was going to start high school this September.I asked her why she was upset as she sat beside me.
"That terrible plane crash,"she sobbed holding her face in her hands."The people were trying to get those two ladies out of the plane. Everyone was covered with blood.I saw it with my mother."
"You mean that smoke was from a plane crash?"I asked now more concerned.
"Yes,and the police took such a long time getting there.Why did they take so long?"she cried.
I had no answer.When we saw the smoke leaving Adam's house it was like I said, ten sfter five.It was 5:30 when I started to cross the street to get the coffee and that's when I heard the first sirens.
"Where the people alive,?"I asked the girl still weeping.
"Yes,there are still alive ,but they are bleeding badly. The people were there trying to get them out of the plane and using fire extinguishers.The police and the ambulances didn't come for a long time."
I couldn't make sense of it. The area is in an industrial part of the city.The city firefighting headquarters is a few blocks from where the crash took place,but I began to not think about the crash as I watched my grandson spar. He was paired with a grown man about fifty pounds heavier. Adam looked good and unafraid. I soon had forgotten about the crash.

This morning I bought a paper to find out what happened with that crash. The account said that a woman pilot and her female friend took off in a single engine Cessna from Montgomery Field which was about a half mile from the crash site.The pilot radioed the tower and said the plane was losing power. She said that she was going to try to put the plane down in a relatively safe spot.The woman landed the plane in the Costco parking lot. Luckily,the lot was pretty empty.The article said that both women were severely injured on impact. The passenger,who was 80 years old,died on the way to hospital.The article also said the response of the police and medical units arrived almost immediately.

That ain't the way it happened.Why it took so long for the police and fire units to arrive,will probably not be reported.Only the people who witnessed the accident and were there in the Costco parking lot know it took more than 20 minutes for the first responders to get to the crash site.I hope this story doesn't become yesterday's news and is forgotten quickly. I know the girl who was crying sitting beside me in the gym has a more honest version of what went down. I hope the truth comes out and people are held accountable.

[dagosd2000]

Extinguished

The other day I mentioned Huffman's Barbeque joint in Southeast San Diego.I had an impromptu lunch with Archie Moore there many years ago.As my memory recalls there was Fargos Barbeque way out on Imperial Avenue and then there was R@M Barbeque next to Battle's Furniture at the end of Imperial Avenue. I knew that Fargos and R@M were no longer around.I don't know why Fargos left the scene. R@M(named after the two old gals that owned the place:Ruth and Martha)had to close doors because the ladies wanted to venture out by the state college area.When they brought the old kitchen fixtures from their old restaurant to use in their new place, the health department said they had to buy all new stuff. Adios Ruth and Martha. That left Huffman's to hold the fort in the hood.

Finding good barbeque has been a quest for me. I visited Dallas in May and asked the black kid behind the front desk at the hotel where I could find a good barbeque place. He recommended Dickey's. I asked him if it was near by so I could walk there(I had no car).He said I could, but I probably would get mugged either going or coming so I asked him to call me a cab. The cab driver,I thought, was taking me for a joy ride winding through a pretty beat up neighborhood. Finally, he pulled up to a small rundown strip mall.There it was,Dickeys.Well once I got out of the cab and started my approach I could tell by the smell that this was going to be an experience. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich layered with polish sausage on a crispy loaf of bread with big chunks of raw onions and a sweet tasty sauce inside. And two sides sides.A creamy cole slaw and mac and cheese.Dessert was pecan pie. I wanted to wrap up the place and bring it back with me on the plane.

When I got back to San Diego the drooling for barbeque began again. I had to get in my car and head out to Huffman's. As I was driving I thought about how you could see the place from afar by the smoke that drifted up from the top of Huffman's roof. They slow cooked their meat.It was what the people called "the stick."Yes,Huffman's was that,"the stick."Huffman's outgunned all the other barbeque joints.A landmark in the area. Not a tourist venue because it was in a tough neighborhood,but that was fine with me.It was all in someone's head if they thought there'd be a problem.Huffman's didn't need any tourists to keep the doors open anyway.The neighborhood kept the place afloat.

Ray Huffman opened his barbeque when he was working at one of the defense plants in San Diego. Eventually,he threw all his weight behind the restaurant because the food was so good that he had no shortage of customers.Huffamn's was down the block from Lincoln High School and that added to the foot traffic.The restaurant was small. Very plain inside. Some tables and chairs. You ordered at the front and sometimes it would take awhile to get your food. I remember the chicken took a little longer,but man it was worth the wait. As you sat at the table waiting, your mouth would be watering.There were some pictures on the wall.Some shots of Ray Huffman posing with M.L, King, Jesse Jackson,Ali,and of course the neighborhood fixture,Archie Moore. All the photographs were taken in the restaurant. You see the black celebraties went to Ray's joint. It was out of respect.

As I cruised up Euclid Boulevard and neared the intersection of Euclid and Imperial and didn't see any smoke. I felt anxiety starting to creep in.Then my woest fears became a reality. Huffman's was closed. All boarded up.I don't kmow what happened. I know Ray Huffman passed away about ten years ago,but it was still going strong.At least I thought it was.Some people in Logan told me that whoever was running the place was staring to cut some corners in recent times.Pasty gravy.The meat was getting a little tougher. The sauce wasn't the same. Less smoke from the roof.

Now there's no more smoke. The flame is gone. Another landmark taken" off the set" without a footprint .But you won't find me at the franchise barbeque restaurant at the mall. The tourists and the "sheep" can chatter noisily as they wait a half an hour in line thinking that they're eating at a "stick."Well,they can take that stick and shove it you know where.






Ray Huffman and the Mongoose

[scartissue]

Extinguished

The other day I mentioned Huffman's Barbeque joint in Southeast San Diego.I had an impromptu lunch with Archie Moore there many years ago.As my memory recalls there was Fargos Barbeque way out on Imperial Avenue and then there was R@M Barbeque next to Battle's Furniture at the end of Imperial Avenue. I knew that Fargos and R@M were no longer around.I don't know why Fargos left the scene. R@M(named after the two old gals that owned the place:Ruth and Martha)had to close doors because the ladies wanted to venture out by the state college area.When they brought the old kitchen fixtures from their old restaurant to use in their new place, the health department said they had to buy all new stuff. Adios Ruth and Martha. That left Huffman's to hold the fort in the hood.

Finding good barbeque has been a quest for me. I visited Dallas in May and asked the black kid behind the front desk at the hotel where I could find a good barbeque place. He recommended Dickey's. I asked him if it was near by so I could walk there(I had no car).He said I could, but I probably would get mugged either going or coming so I asked him to call me a cab. The cab driver,I thought, was taking me for a joy ride winding through a pretty beat up neighborhood. Finally, he pulled up to a small rundown strip mall.There it was,Dickeys.Well once I got out of the cab and started my approach I could tell by the smell that this was going to be an experience. I ordered a pulled pork sandwich layered with polish sausage on a crispy loaf of bread with big chunks of raw onions and a sweet tasty sauce inside. And two sides sides.A creamy cole slaw and mac and cheese.Dessert was pecan pie. I wanted to wrap up the place and bring it back with me on the plane.

When I got back to San Diego the drooling for barbeque began again. I had to get in my car and head out to Huffman's. As I was driving I thought about how you could see the place from afar by the smoke that drifted up from the top of Huffman's roof. They slow cooked their meat.It was what the people called "the stick."Yes,Huffman's was that,"the stick."Huffman's outgunned all the other barbeque joints.A landmark in the area. Not a tourist venue because it was in a tough neighborhood,but that was fine with me.It was all in someone's head if they thought there'd be a problem.Huffman's didn't need any tourists to keep the doors open anyway.The neighborhood kept the place afloat.

Ray Huffman opened his barbeque when he was working at one of the defense plants in San Diego. Eventually,he threw all his weight behind the restaurant because the food was so good that he had no shortage of customers.Huffamn's was down the block from Lincoln High School and that added to the foot traffic.The restaurant was small. Very plain inside. Some tables and chairs. You ordered at the front and sometimes it would take awhile to get your food. I remember the chicken took a little longer,but man it was worth the wait. As you sat at the table waiting, your mouth would be watering.There were some pictures on the wall.Some shots of Ray Huffman posing with M.L, King, Jesse Jackson,Ali,and of course the neighborhood fixture,Archie Moore. All the photographs were taken in the restaurant. You see the black celebraties went to Ray's joint. It was out of respect.

As I cruised up Euclid Boulevard and neared the intersection of Euclid and Imperial and didn't see any smoke. I felt anxiety starting to creep in.Then my woest fears became a reality. Huffman's was closed. All boarded up.I don't kmow what happened. I know Ray Huffman passed away about ten years ago,but it was still going strong.At least I thought it was.Some people in Logan told me that whoever was running the place was staring to cut some corners in recent times.Pasty gravy.The meat was getting a little tougher. The sauce wasn't the same. Less smoke from the roof.

Now there's no more smoke. The flame is gone. Another landmark taken" off the set" without a footprint .But you won't find me at the franchise barbeque restaurant at the mall. The tourists and the "sheep" can chatter noisily as they wait a half an hour in line thinking that they're eating at a "stick."Well,they can take that stick and shove it you know where.






Ray Huffman and the Mongoose

Rog, loved your take on the B-B-Q joints. Very vivid. So vivid i could feel a tightness around my left ventricle after reading what you ate at Dickey's. LOL! When you mentioned 'the smoke' I could only think of some of the BBQ joints here in Chicago that are well known but in a bit of dicey neighborhoods. They too have smoke billowing but that's due to the daily grease fires they're trying to extinguish. Huffman's now, sounded like quite a place.