BoxRec

Impresario

Ingnacio Huizar promoted some great cards in Tijuana during the heydays of the late 1960's through the 70's.He also had a handle on the fights that were televised on the big screen in Tijuana and once in awhile in San Diego. I'll say it again, practically all major fights in the world from welter weight down could be relished in Los Angeles and Tijuana. I'll throw in San Diego with that pair because though there weren't any title fights in San Diego,the Coliseum shared fighters that were featured in both those cities.

I always tried to avoid waiting in long lines at the ticket gate when there was a fight in Tijuana.Sometimes those lines took f moved like a land tortoise with a bum leg. Before the opening bell rang at one of the Tijuana venues like the Auditorio Municipal,the downtown bullring, the Arena 72,and the Jai Alai Palace I wanted to sit at ringside.In order to bypass that problem of waiting and then having to bribe the guy at the ticketbooth I'd go straight to Huizar's little "tacito joint"(that's what a lot people down there called his place)to buy tickets beforehand. Huizar's little restaurant was located on Agua Caliente Boulevard as you drove out to the racetrack before it curved onto Boulevard Diaz Ordaz. Huizar's place was plain, unpretentious,kind of drab looking.He was a big shot in town ,but like a lot Latinos with juice he wanted to give the impression that he was an ordinary guy,a humble sort that was with the common man.

There was no parking lot in the back of Huizar's enterprise so you had to find a spot on the street.Inside, the interior was no different than what its outside face had to show:a prosaic display of several stools that needed reupholstering.a wood counter top that craved a big drink of varnish,a couple of booths along the wall that had on the surfaces a film of dust and cobwebs,and a greasy old stove were the tacitos were cooked up.I admit these surroundings never piqued my taste buds. Added to this unappetizing aura was the trouble my weak eyes had trying to see where everything was in this unappetizing environment. Any light bulbs over 60 watts were not on the shelves in his storeroom I can bet you nor screwed into the sockets..Not surprising, every time I walked through the door I never saw any customers.

Do any of you remember that old radio show,later giving it a try on television,called "Duffy's Tavern?".Every time the phone rang,Ed the bartender would pick up the receiver and say,"Duffy's Tavern.Duffy's not here."Well Igancio Huizar was never there when I stopped by to get some tickets for one of his fights. I'd go in there around a dozen times a year and never saw Ignacio Huizar.Maybe it was a front and Huizar had more important things to do than sit in his empty restaurant.Perhaps,it was a coincidence.All I can say he might have been out with Duffy having a beer down the street every time I was in there.

As drab as Huizar's "tacito joint" was his fight promotions fed Tijuana's life blood into the sport.I'd see Huizar at the fights though.A portly guy with a dough face a big moustache. He walked with a waddle and certainly didn't emit an air of being a macho tough guy. Sometimes when he'd filter through the crowd some drunk would shout something that questioned his manhood.

I've been away from what's going on with boxing not only in Tijuana but the rest of the Southland.I'm always playing catch up.The problem is my eyesight and my motivation needs some stronger light.Kind of like being inside Huizar's little "tacito joint."



Tijuana's Jai Alai Palace

Arena 72.Located about a half mile south of the Agua Caliente Racetrack. A hot boxing venue for awhile..After Rodolfo "El Gato" Gonzalez lost his WBC lightweight title to Ishimatsu,Gato fought a tune up fight before the rematch with Ishimatsu at the Arena 72 against Clemente Mucino. After stopping Mucino,Gato lost the return go.Said he was 32 years old.Too old to continue fighting,at least from his perspective. Told me he was physically drained. I thought he would stay up there for a spell.Duran held the other half of the light weight title. He overshadowed Gato. Duran fought Ishimatsu in a WBA defense and beat him soundly. Later,Ishimatsu fought Rodolfo to with the WBC version.Then lost the WBC belt to DeJesus.

Time To Reflect

When I worked as a teacher at Juvenile Hall it was an eye opener. There were six dorm units,inmates separated by age and degree of the crime.Believe it or not, the illegal alien kids in lock up were the best behaved and the most cooperative. I didn't have to keep hounding them about cleaning their rooms,paying attention in class,and following directions. For the most part they were happy.They didn't fight with each other.There was no gang involvement. They knew after serving their time for their crimes , they would be deported back,most of them,to Mexico. In ways they had it better than before:their own beds,hot and cold running water,three squares a day,medical attention,recreatrion time,court appointed lawyers,and going to school. On Fridays I'd bring in Mexican movies and show them on the VCR in the rec room. Since I spoke Spanish I got a lot of assignments with these kids. For the most part it was a piece of cake.

The youngest group of incarcerees(ages 9 through 12) were the hardest to handle. They wanted to show their older peers that they were just as tough and went out of their way to be incorrigible. I stressed when I got assigned to be with them for a stretch.

The oldest inmates were the 15 to 17 year olds. Sadly,they were already what they call "institutionalized." They'd been in and out of "The Hall" and Youth Authority for most of their young lives. When they turned 18 and broke the law they'd be tried as "adults".There would be no more coddling and rehabilitation efforts at the juvenile level. Their cases would be heard in superior court and if convicted they'd have to serve time in prisons like San Quentin or Folsom. From being the cock of the walk at Juvenile Hall they'd be in cells with hard time criminals.They wouldn't be minors anymore,but now being 18 they'd be living with thugs having records that go back years. Those 18 year olds would be seen as lambs being led to the slaughter after being brought in through the front gate.

When I had the 15 to 17 year olds I was amazed about how many of these kids were good athletes. It was an eye opener. While I was working with this group I encountered the high school county section 100 and 200 meter champion.He placed 1st at the state meet and his name was in the papers as much as any of the pro athletes in town.A year after he graduated he took up boxing and was the middleweight Golden Gloves champ in San Diego and also earned a medal at the AAU tournament in Los Angeles. Mike,a tall African /American kid, who had been offered a slew of college scholarships for track ,knocked me over when I saw him in jail.

The kids would have their meals in the classroom. One afternoon during lunch I called Mike up to my desk.
"Mike.What the hell are you doing in here?"I asked him.
I could see he was sweating and stood there shifting his feet. He didn't look me in the eye.
"I shot a guy,"he murmured."Coach(every P.O and teacher was called coach)I was stupid.I just went up to this guy and shot him in back of the head in front of everybody."
"What was that about?"
"I started going down to Tijuana.I got involved with Quintero in one of his clubs down there. I was smuggling drugs for him.I was making good money. Then he told me if I wanted to make 10 thousand dollars if I killed this guy on this side of the border."
My mind was racing around trying to make to put things together while he was telling me this saga.
"They told me that everything would be taken care of. If I got nabbed they'd have me out of jail."
"When do you go to trial?"
"Next week.They're gong to try me as an adult.I'm in here for now,"he stammered meekly.
"Have you got a lawyer?"
"I keep trying to get in touch with those guys in Tijuana and they tell me not to worry. My trial is next week.So far I have a court appointed attorney."
While I was still recovering from the shock I thought about watching Mike fighting in the Golden Gloves.He was coordinated, had fast hands, and good footwork. His potential was unlimited.For an amateur he looked like a pro already. A free college education was waiting for him on a track scholarship ,or if he found an inclination to be a fighter he seemed like a sure bet either way. Now he was in jail on a murder rap.I didn't know what to say to him.I could have said to him that he blew it,but he knew that.Or I could have said that I wish everything worked out,but in a way I hoped it wouldn't. And besides,I knew it wouldn't so I didn't say that.
"After lunch I'm going to call those guys in TJ,"said Mike.
The next day Mike wasn't in class. I asked the P.O. at the desk where he was.
"Mike tried to hang himself in his cell last night,"he said.
"Is he all right?"
"He'll make it. He'll be ready to go on trial next week and spend the rest of his life on death row."

I Googled Mike's name a few years ago. He's still on death row at San Quentin. He's been in a cage for the last 30 years still appealing his case.I don't think the state of California has executed anyone on death row in since 1968 when the Supreme Court temporarily suspended the death sentence. Someone told me that Mike had gotten married to a woman who he was corresponding with from jail. Once a month she has visitation rights to spend the weekend with him. I don't think they'll do a story about Mike on the Disney Channel.


Juvenile Hall -San Diego

Old School

When Muhammad Ali blew into town to prep at The Town And Country Hotel for his first fight with Ken Norton I made it a point to watch him train every day. Ali ,along with The Beatles,drugs,free love,and the Vietnam War were symbols of the new counter culture of the mid 60's. The Vietnam War was the catalyst for all the chaos.In the span of a few years the country and the rest of the world had morphed into a Mardi Gras of anything goes. it was the old order trying to maintain its hold against the baby boomers who wanted pry things loose and show mom and dad that their ways of thinking were yesterday's news that was suited better to line the parakeet cage.

On the surface Ali was the poster child of the new generation of athlete. Ali ushered in a new wave by drowning Sonny Liston to necessitate artificial respiration , gasping for breath while sitting on his stool not wanting to answer the bell for round seven in Miami.

If the public thought Liston and Ali were the antithesis of homo sapiens they needed to scrape the surface a little to see that the two were alike in many ways. Because Ali was a loud mouth and Sonny liked to stare you down,it threw many off the track.Sonny Liston liked to intimidate his sparring partners. It wasn't only to work on "things" to get ready for a fight. He wanted everyone to know that he was a killer.A man to fear. When a young Mac Foster was brought in spar and to be taken down a peg or two by the "Sunnyless" Sonny,Mac cracked Liston a good one knocking him unconscious.Those kind of things happen sometimes.

When I went to see Ali go through the paces in San Diego I wasn't like all the other free onlookers who ached to see butterfly floating and bee stinging. Bundini Brown,the Ali sycophant,left his megaphone at home while Ali's sparring partners,Billy Daniels and Alonzo Johnson,pounded Muhammad's rib cage life an old rug. Ali thought that if he let himself get pummeled by his sparring partners it would get him ready to what he would face when the money was on the line. What it mostly got him was an early appointment with the dialysis machine.

So I wasn't interested in seeing the physical Ali.I was curious to glean as much as I could of his "human" side.If he expressed any inklings of what his tastes were I was there to savor the flavor. One day Tony Doyle, donned in his all green colored gear, climbed into the ring to give Muhammad some work. Before the show began Ali picked up the microphone(Imagine,Ali had to have a microphone at ringside to add commentary to what was going to transpire)
"Ladies and gentlemen,"announced the Greatest."If you notice Mr. Tony Doyle you can tell he is Irish. Everything he has on is green.His shorts,his shoes,his robe,and if he cares to show us,even his jockey strap is green."
Well,that got everyone laughing.But the irony was that if Tony Doyle was made to look clownish by the Louisville Lip,Muhammad Ali was a lot closer to Uncle Tom(or Sonny Liston) than one might think. Ali's workout gear was all gray. The sweatpants,sweatshirt,even his shoes were a worn pair of paratrooper boots. With the exception of his Fight Of the Century with Joe Frazier,Ali was content with the white trunks and the black piping down the sides.He never went in for the afro. Before the Holmes fight he had a mustache,but that lip hair was in response to a cut he wanted to cover up sustained in training. The clothes he wore were something that looked taken off the rack:long sleeved shirts,dark colored suits with narrow lapels,thin ties,,and pants without the flairs. No polyester garb was inside his closet.When Ali would run down a list of his favorite singers names like Ray Charles, Sam Cooke,Jackie Wilson ,and the Spinners would pop into his mind.I bet Sonny Liston liked Ray Charles' singing.

No.Ali was kind of a square and although the militant blacks were in his corner Ali didn't share their anger. He wasn't spouting the pre fight hype of killing anyone or calling an adversary a fag. The hippie counter culture whites felt comfortable with him. He could fit into an Animal House toga party and mix like he was a fraternity brother.

When Ali was in San Diego he brought along the wife and kids. One day a fan asked him between one of his monologues where his family was.
"I think they went to the zoo,"said Muhammad."They say that you've got a pretty good zoo in San Diego.If I didn't have to get ready to fight Ken Norton I'd have gone with them.I like seeing all the different animals."
Spoken like a little kid,or better yet, Father Knows Best.Perhaps even Sonny Liston. I know he must have liked the bears.


Ray Charles

Don't Bother Pulling Up A Chair

I tell people that I've sat ringside watching the fights at the Arena Coliseo in Mexico City and it's like dropping a name at a party showing off a badge of honor pinned to my chest. In its time during the 30's and 40's the Arena Coliseo was Mexico's alter ego to New York's Madison Square Garden. When I mention ,very nonchalantly, that I've been amongst the aficianados at the noted landmark, I elicit a lot of raised eyebrows and gaped mouths. My audience,mostly boxing fans that have only seen the fights on the television,are instantly impressed.But that was my intention. Their naivete was like shooting fish in a barrel when it came to awing them with my ensuing descriptions of what it was like inside the four walls of the Arena Coliseo.Its name has an intriguing ring.But I strongly believe in the words of the immortal actor Robert Mitchum when he said that"50 percent of what comes out of people's mouths are a bunch of lies." In my recollections of the Arena Coliseo is what I DON'T say about spending my time there that is closer to the truth.

The Arena Coliseo is located in a pretty rough part of the city named Colonia Cuauhtémoc.I guess the Arena Coliseo,known famously for the weekly boxing and wrestling shows,is in an appropriate spot for such bloody entertainment.It's cramped inside but then there are four floors that rise above the ring that, when seats filled, can handle nearly 10 thousand of the faithful. All the legends of Mexican boxing have exhibited their talents inside its squared circle.Kid Azteca,Baby Casanova,Raton Macias,Joe Becerra,Vicente Saldivar,Ruben Olivares,Salvador Sanchez just to name a few.Curiously,Mexico's greatest legend,Julio Cesar Chavez, never made an appearance. Foreigners like Jose Napoles,Sugar Ramos,and our Joe Louis also knew what it was like to do combat inside the old stadium.

I had a sister in law who used to live in Mexico City with her spoiled silver spoon in the mouth "Chilango" (someone from Mexico City)husband. My wife and I would visit on occasion when we had the patience to drive to Mexico City from my wife's hometown in Michoacán.Those two both got on my nerves. She's a divisive rumor spreading homewrecker, who implementing her female black widow mind, webbed a lot of unsuspecting men in her life including her husband who thought he knew everything like a typical "Chilango."He'd tell me that the United States was all f---ed up though he had never been anywhere closer to the U.S. than Acapulco.One time when the wife and I were listening to these two A holes try toout talk each other,I suggested to Senor Chilango if he wanted to go to the fights at the Arena Coliseo. He hesitated and then said that he'd never been there and that the neighborhood was sketchy. I told him not to worry and not let his imagination get the best of him.

Well,we went and he had the time of his life.There were signs posted on the walls saying that there was no betting allowed so that gave me that green light to make a few wagers with some of the rule breakers sitting close by who prided themselves with defying authority.It's a Mexican custom to disobey the rules.Now let me tell you about the fights.Simply,they stunk. There must have been six or seven fights on the docket and they were some of the biggest yawners I've ever seen.All I can remember was a fighter by the name of Mario Olmedo. I don't know why his name rings a bell. Of the six or seven fights they all went the distance and there were no knockdowns.At the end I couldn't wait to get out of there.

Another time when my wife and I were visiting these two screwballs I was watching the TV and saw that Ruben Olivares was going to make his swan song at the Arena Coliseo that night. Mr. Know It All wanted to go and who was I to say no?I can't remember who else was fighting that night but it was El Puas that piqued my interest. The guy he was fighting was a real no name. The place was packed with fans and dignitaries. Mariachis were in the ring along with Senorita Mexico and the mayor. I figured it was a lead pipe cinch that Rockin' Ruben would make short work of whoever this guy was(maybe they picked him up off the street)and then the world would remain in order.But slap my dick and call me shorty if this unknown Mexican Palooka didn't have his way with the great Ruben Olivares.Olivares had been away from the ring for a couple of years but I thought at least the fix was in and they wouldn't let their hero exit a disgrace and bite the dust. But Ruben not only bit the dust he swallowed the mat.In the 4th round of a pretty slow fight this unknown entity tapped Ruben on the shoulder,he hung in the air,and then fell to the canvas like he had just popped a cyanide pill. Again,my Chilango brother in law had the time of his life while I didn't say two words on the way back to his apartment.

I could go on with a few more descriptions of the fights I where I was present at the Arena Coliseo but I wouldn't want to validate what Robert Mitchum had to say about spinnin' yarns.But then again it was Hemingway who said "A liar can write more convincingly than someone who as there." For now I'll just leave it at that.

Raton Macias

dagosd2000 wrote: ↑26 Mar 2020, 20:17 Don't Bother Pulling Up A Chair

I tell people that I've sat ringside watching the fights at the Arena Coliseo in Mexico City and it's like dropping a name at a party showing off a badge of honor pinned to my chest. In its time during the 30's and 40's the Arena Coliseo was Mexico's alter ego to New York's Madison Square Garden. When I mention ,very nonchalantly, that I've been amongst the aficianados at the noted landmark, I elicit a lot of raised eyebrows and gaped mouths. My audience,mostly boxing fans that have only seen the fights on the television,are instantly impressed.But that was my intention. Their naivete was like shooting fish in a barrel when it came to awing them with my ensuing descriptions of what it was like inside the four walls of the Arena Coliseo.Its name has an intriguing ring.But I strongly believe in the words of the immortal actor Robert Mitchum when he said that"50 percent of what comes out of people's mouths are a bunch of lies." In my recollections of the Arena Coliseo is what I DON'T say about spending my time there that is closer to the truth.

The Arena Coliseo is located in a pretty rough part of the city named Colonia Cuauhtémoc.I guess the Arena Coliseo,known famously for the weekly boxing and wrestling shows,is in an appropriate spot for such bloody entertainment.It's cramped inside but then there are four floors that rise above the ring that, when seats filled, can handle nearly 10 thousand of the faithful. All the legends of Mexican boxing have exhibited their talents inside its squared circle.Kid Azteca,Baby Casanova,Raton Macias,Joe Becerra,Vicente Saldivar,Ruben Olivares,Salvador Sanchez just to name a few.Curiously,Mexico's greatest legend,Julio Cesar Chavez, never made an appearance. Foreigners like Jose Napoles,Sugar Ramos,and our Joe Louis also knew what it was like to do combat inside the old stadium.

I had a sister in law who used to live in Mexico City with her spoiled silver spoon in the mouth "Chilango" (someone from Mexico City)husband. My wife and I would visit on occasion when we had the patience to drive to Mexico City from my wife's hometown in Michoacán.Those two both got on my nerves. She's a divisive rumor spreading homewrecker, who implementing her female black widow mind, webbed a lot of unsuspecting men in her life including her husband who thought he knew everything like a typical "Chilango."He'd tell me that the United States was all f---ed up though he had never been anywhere closer to the U.S. than Acapulco.One time when the wife and I were listening to these two A holes try toout talk each other,I suggested to Senor Chilango if he wanted to go to the fights at the Arena Coliseo. He hesitated and then said that he'd never been there and that the neighborhood was sketchy. I told him not to worry and not let his imagination get the best of him.

Well,we went and he had the time of his life.There were signs posted on the walls saying that there was no betting allowed so that gave me that green light to make a few wagers with some of the rule breakers sitting close by who prided themselves with defying authority.It's a Mexican custom to disobey the rules.Now let me tell you about the fights.Simply,they stunk. There must have been six or seven fights on the docket and they were some of the biggest yawners I've ever seen.All I can remember was a fighter by the name of Mario Olmedo. I don't know why his name rings a bell. Of the six or seven fights they all went the distance and there were no knockdowns.At the end I couldn't wait to get out of there.

Another time when my wife and I were visiting these two screwballs I was watching the TV and saw that Ruben Olivares was going to make his swan song at the Arena Coliseo that night. Mr. Know It All wanted to go and who was I to say no?I can't remember who else was fighting that night but it was El Puas that piqued my interest. The guy he was fighting was a real no name. The place was packed with fans and dignitaries. Mariachis were in the ring along with Senorita Mexico and the mayor. I figured it was a lead pipe cinch that Rockin' Ruben would make short work of whoever this guy was(maybe they picked him up off the street)and then the world would remain in order.But slap my dick and call me shorty if this unknown Mexican Palooka didn't have his way with the great Ruben Olivares.Olivares had been away from the ring for a couple of years but I thought at least the fix was in and they wouldn't let their hero exit a disgrace and bite the dust. But Ruben not only bit the dust he swallowed the mat.In the 4th round of a pretty slow fight this unknown entity tapped Ruben on the shoulder,he hung in the air,and then fell to the canvas like he had just popped a cyanide pill. Again,my Chilango brother in law had the time of his life while I didn't say two words on the way back to his apartment.

I could go on with a few more descriptions of the fights I where I was present at the Arena Coliseo but I wouldn't want to validate what Robert Mitchum had to say about spinnin' yarns.But then again it was Hemingway who said "A liar can write more convincingly than someone who as there." For now I'll just leave it at that.

Raton Macias

Rog, I hang on your stories. I can hear the aficionados screaming, I can smell the perfume from the Senoritas and can see the smoke wafting in the arena when you weave your tapestries. Keep them rolling, my man.

Rog, I hang on your stories. I can hear the aficionados screaming, I can smell the perfume from the Senoritas and can see the smoke wafting in the arena when you weave your tapestries. Keep them rolling, my man.


Thanks Dan.I hope the WCBHOF doesn't get "shutdown."

I use to watch the weekly boxing shows took place at the Arena Coliseo on a Spanish language television station. That was despite the fact that I can't understand or speak Spanish to this day. But those shows usually featured quite a bit of action. My most vivid memory of watching those boxing shows was seeing David "El Maceton" Cabrera fight, gimpy leg and all. El Maceton was no more than a club fighter or a journeyman, but he was very willing and provided a lot of action.

- Chuck Johnston

Chuck1052 wrote: ↑26 Mar 2020, 23:41 I use to watch the weekly boxing shows took place at the Arena Coliseo on a Spanish language television station. That was despite the fact that I can't understand or speak Spanish to this day. But those shows usually featured quite a bit of action. My most vivid memory of watching those boxing shows was seeing David "El Maceton" Cabrera fight, gimpy leg and all. El Maceton was no more than a club fighter or a journeyman, but he was very willing and provided a lot of action.

- Chuck Johnston

Chuck
I used to watch that program also. Most of the fights took place at the Arena Coliseo.I'm glad you up brought up old Maceton.I had a close friend who lived in Tijuana that passed away this week.Later,I'll reminisce about the time we went to the Municipal Auditorium and watched Maceton fight Marcos Geraldo. Quite an evening!

My Friend Bonifacio

I've talked about my friend Bonifacio before.After a short illness he died last Saturday.He was 90.Bonifacio had the kindest face I've ever seen.Nothing seemed to unnerve him. Until the very end he still radiated a youthful expression and manner.Everytime I saw him he was dressed nicely but not with an air of pretenses. He did a stretch in the La Mesa Penitentiary in Tijuana on a drug rap. I'd visit him and bring the recreational necessities he requested after he greased the palm of the Captain. Then the guards would let me through the front gate no questions asked. A few weeks ago I wrote about when I went to see Bonifacio while he was locked up.This was sometime during the mid 1980's. I described the impact Mother Teresa had on the prison population when a riot started during the boxing matches involving the fighters from the La Mesa Penitentiary and the fighters from the Mexicali Penitentiary that was located about a 100 miles east of Tijuana. When Mother Teresa decided to come down from her mission at the Tijuana dump to visit the prisoners of the lower pecking orders at the La Mesa lock up, the fisticuffs were just getting under way. However,the melee abated faster than throwing ice water on a stiff dick. I was standing beside Bonifacio when this chaos erupted and ended the naughties saw the demur nun striding boldly by.Everyone began hanging their heads like little boys who got caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Bonifacio turned to me with that trademark soothing smile on his face.
"I guess God gave Mother Teresa a better punch than any of those fighters."
That's the way he was. The wry sense of humor. Nothing was too serious to cause you take a ten count. Only The Grim Reaper could toll that high.

Bonifacio was nabbed for selling drugs.He was a taxista,a Tijuana cab driver.He wasn't a killer. He had Tijuana street smarts,but he was a man not to instill unnecessary fear. He had a wife and kids, and a girlfriend.His girlfriend was the one who introduced me to my wife.He loved to drink ,but he was a nice drunk. Not sloppy.Just nice.He'd wobble and slur his words when he drank but he could keep it together.I never knew how he got busted and I never asked. We palled around quite a bit when we were still in our primes. There wasn't a bar or a whorehouse that refused us service.They all knew us on a first name basis.

One night we decided to go the fights at the Municipal Auditorium out on the boulevard before we caroused the usual dens of iniquity in town. The main event was a bout between a local favorite,Marcos Geraldo, and the "Chilango", David "Maceton" Cabrera. Fights between Tijuaneros and Chilangos,fighters ffom Mexico City, were a natural.Chilangos had this superiority issue where they thought they were the Mexican Brahmins of society and weren't timid about letting everyone know about it.They think Tijuana Mexicans had been bastardized by their proximity to the United States. The fans loved it. The promoters made money.How much money the fighters wound up with after they left the arena is anyone's guess.

The Municipal Auditorium was packed to the doors the night we went to the fights. I parked the car across the street near the popular eatery,Carnitas Uruapan.The auditorium had no parking lot so you had to find a spot on the street.The streets were dark and secluded and kids would come up to you asking for money so they could keep an eye on your car. it was always wise to give the kids a few dollars to look after your car. If you stiffed the kids there was a good chance that when you returned to your vehicle the windows would be smashed and your radio or stereo would be missing.The cops would hire the kids to work with them and give them a piece of the action.

We sat ringside.Tickets weren't that steep.Bonifacio brought a couple of flasks hidden inside his coat. By the time the main event rolled around we had drained the first and then opened the other.By the time we found our seats we were feeling no pain.During one of the prelims I saw Maceton Cabrera walk to the dressing room.He was limping along carrying a leather satchel that contained his gear. Along with his slow gait and a head of iron gray hair I became concerned that he might not make it out alive. He was putting himself in harms way.But that was Maceton's mantra. He looked fragile but he could fight.Though he called Mexico City his home,he was a fighter popular with the aficianados.He was an old lion.He might have walked without steadiness but his pace carried a signature pride.

Cabrera climbed first into the ring. He wore a towel for a robe,his shoes were scuffed up,and his trunks lacked color.His face didn't waver from non expression although he got a warm hand from the crowd. When Marcos Geraldo made his entry there was more noise.Geraldo showed some pretty good fighters on his resume:Caveman Lee,Tommy Hearns,Marvin Hagler,and Ray Leonard.Geraldo was the first middleweight that Ray Leonard tried at 160. Sugar Ray said that he was surprisingly "strong." The fight went the full ten. Cabrera's battles were mostly staged in the stomping grounds in all the rickety arenas and broken down bullrings in the republic.I couldn't see how Maceton would survive.

Bonifacio wasn't a big fight fan but that didn't deter his lean for having a good time. I kept it up that Geraldo was going to kill this guy. Bonifacio just smiled , nodded approval,and opened the other flask. The fight started slow. Geraldo was throwing the fight away in the early rounds.Cabrera wasn't the slickest guy you'd see in the ring but at least he was moving forward and winning rounds. Geraldo was copying the rope a dope technique.By the middle of the fight I was doing a meltdown. Bonifacio just smiled and passed me the flask. Finally,I couldn't sit still any longer. Before the start of the 8th round I staggered toward Geraldo's corner ,stepped up to where his cornermen were working on him,and began yelling at Geraldo calling him a sissy.The next thing I know some of the enthusiastic jumped on me and the next thing I know I was looking up at the ring rafters. I was getting the crap kicked out of me. Then like a Mexican raging bull I saw Bonifacio's body streak across my line of sight. Everybody was swinging wildly hitting friend and foe alike.The cops came in and pulled my attackers off me. Bonifacio was still on the floor with his symbolic smile on his face.I thought we were all going to jail. Bonifacio got to his feet as the round sounded for the 9th..As far as I was concerned I couldn't have cared less about the fight.Everyone stood there looking at each other.
"Bonny,"I heard one of the cops say.He was a big ugly brute.Bonifacio gathered himself and sidled next to the cop.They didn't exchange any words. Then Bonifacio gave me a nudge.
"Vamanos",he said. "Let's go.It's ok."
We began shuffling our way to the exit. While reeling along I heard the crowd roar.I turned around and saw Cabrera flat on his back,the referee finishing the count to ten.I just wanted to get out of there. There was nothing to savor.

As we were leaving in the car to go back to town Bonifacio gave a laugh.
"Rogeloi.What made you do that?"
"I was pissed off.I thought Geraldo was throwing the fight."
"I should have told you that Geraldo was going to carry him for awhile."
"Now you tell me,"I said speaking without emotion.
"Oh Rogelio ,mi amigo. When we get to town I'll buy the drinks."
"And how about the girls?"I asked facetiously.
Bonifacio then pulled out a wad of bills from his coat.
"How many do you want?"

My friend Bonifacio

He Did It His Way

Jimmy Heair did it his way,but I wonder if he had to do it all over again if he wouldn't have changed course.I remember when he blew into the Southland to begin his pro career after finishing a short amateur career. When Aileen Eaton was bringing him along at the Olympic Auditorium she'd have him talk in front of the camera to do a little self promoting.A toe head expressionless kid from Tennessee, with a drawl as cavernous as the Battle Of Chickamauga ,this good ol' boy was a perfect foil when matched against the Latino fighters inside the venues of LA,San Diego,and Tijuana. But he did as much battling with his managers than he did with his opponents.He wanted to fight as often as possible figuring the more he fought the more money he could make, and then blow it away.In the span of three years he ran off 33 straight wins against fair to average competition.After stopping Tury Pineda,a fighter who either took you out or was carried out of the ring, Heair looked like he was in position to fight for a version of the lightweight title. But fighting to Heair was an end to justify the means of filling his wallet.His manager wanted him to pace himself before working a deal for a future title fight. But Heair wanted to fight on his once a week pace and took a fight with the journeyman Rudy Barro at the Olympic Auditorium against the advice of his people.A tired Heair was outfought losing for the first time.He was now his own manager.He could do it the way he wanted.

Heair was a frequent fighter at the San Diego Coliseum.After the Barro loss I saw Heair beat another blood and guts Mexican fighter ,Lobito Montoya.Later ,Heair lost a main eventer to Mike Mayan in a very close fight at the Coliseum. I talked with Mickey Davies ,who was the matchmaker, and he told me that he was having a hard time with Heair saying that Jimmy was too dictatorial in negotiations.After burning all his bridges in the Southland ,Heair went on to fight all over the continent,mainly back in the South. Looking at his record,his last fight in the Souyhland was in Tijuana. I remember seeing the poster on a wall in TJ with Heair's name atop of the card. He was going to go in there with Jose Soberanes.I got him confused with his brother Juan,who was a good veteran fighter.When I found out that I'd gotten it wrong with the brothers Soberanes,I decided to follow through with going to the fights anyway.The fight was at the Auditorio Municipal. As usual the gate was strong.but now knowing it was Jose in there instead of his bro Juan,I didn't think Jimmy would have much to worry about.

Did you ever see a fight and get that feeling that something was wrong with one of the fighters before the bell rang?I got that feeling when I saw Jimmy Heair enter the ring. His face was flushed and his eyes glassy. He was sweating bullets and seemed to be in a daze.Jose Soberanes was a tough kid ,but was crude in the art. He stalked and wasn't shy to take one to give one.Heair moved around the entire fight on unsteady pins. He was getting rocked around and not returning anything worth mentioning. In the 7th round,his face swollen and his lungs gasping for air, he was a spent fighter.

Jimmy Heair,who for a time looked like the real item,went the way of the hard luck fighter because he was hard headed. If he had listened he might have gone farther. When I saw that he was going to fight Duran my curiosity wouldn't let me instead go to the baseball game that night.But what was supposed to be a fight was more of a sparring session. Maybe it was agreed to be that kind of show beforehand, Heair didn't want any part of Roberto and looked content to give him ten good rounds of work .Duran was beginning to test the welterweight waters at this time.His next fight was against former welterweight champ,Carlos Palomino.

Amassing over 130 fights Jimmy Heair will be remembered.He wanted to do it his way, and he did, even if it undermined his potential.But anyway you slice it we can't forget him.At the end when he was too sick to be a fighter anymore he tried doing some managing and training but that went the way of the wind.We remember him as a sometimes good fighter even if he didn't want to listen when he should have.


Roberto Duran

An Oyster's World

"We aren't open for business,"said Jeff the battender as he locked the door to Champs behind me.
My car was being worked on at Wally's Garage next door and I saw that the door was open to Champs.
"I came in here to ask if you could break a hundred dollar bill.My car is over at Wally's."
"We've been closed for a couple of weeks.I can go back to the safe and get you change."
Jeff took the bill and went to the back office and came back with five twenties.He put the money on the counter.
"Everything is turned off.I can't offer you anything to drink.I just stopped in to see if everything is all right ,"he said.
"I see that next door they're doing 'take out.' "
"They're in pretty bad shape.They've only been open for a few months.I see it's going pretty slow over there.He'll probably lose his bar."
"This coronavirus shutdown everything quick.It put the country on its head,"I said.
"Who thought it would turn into this?"
"Overnight everything collapsed."
"There's no more sports that's for sure."
"All the gyms are closed.Fights have been cancelled.Fighters are just lounging around with nothing to do."
"How are things across the border?"asked Jeff.
"They've just now started to shut things down."
"How about all those bars in the red light district?"
"All closed.The restaurants too."
"Let's face it,"said Jeff as he rested his arms on the counter,"Tijuana and San Diego are one city when it comes to something like this the germs aren't going to stop and turn around at the border."
"I think they had this all along.Most of the tourists I'd see in Tijuana were Chinese. They must have been carrying it.They'd roam around the streets in packs."
"Are people practicing 'social distancing?' down there?"
"Not really. They're not quarantining themselves either.There's just so much they're going to do.They figure if they get it,it was what God wanted."
"People here are really freaking out about this,"said Jeff.
"Well,it happened so fast. Most Americans have had it pretty soft until now. Look,when there was Vietnam or the invasion of Iraq that was something far away. It didn't have the effect that this virus has. Everyone is walking through a minefield.And when they finally get around to finding a cure you've got all these people that have lost their businesses and their jobs.It going to take a long time to get back on our feet if we ever do.We can't create jobs if we can't shake hands with each other."
"And that includes the whole world,"said Jeff.
"The world will never be the same again.We're going to have to find a way of coping and find new ways of making ourselves happy."
Jeff just shook his head and folded his hands on the bar.
"It makes you rethink your priorities,"said Jeff still looking down at the counter.
"You mean people will have nothing to say about Tom Brady leaving the Patriots?"
Jeff pushed his arms up from the counter.
"I gave you five twenties,"he said."Is that how you wanted it?"
"That'll work."
"If you want to wash your hands the restroom is open."
"That's always good to know."

Far Away But Not That Long Ago

Last year around this time my wife and I were in northern Italy. To be more specific we were in the town of Gravedona which is located on the northeast shore of Lake Como 40 kilometers from Milan.Our hotel was small and quaint,a structure representing a bygone past that for some reason I associated with Benito Mussolini. It was near Gravedona where Mussolini and his mistress Clara Petacci were apprehended by partisans and killed. Looking out from the hotel's grounds across the lake with the backdrop of the Italian Alps serving like a natural bodyguard, it was difficult for me to think that this pastoral setting could be a stage for a war.

Everyday my wife and I would walk into town and eat breakfast at the small café situated across the street from the lake and a grassy area lined with benches and shade trees. A roll,a cup of coffee,we'd savor slowly eating and letting our minds wander thinking that in a perfect world that we were in a perfect place. After finishing our light repast we'd walk back to the hotel,go to the pool for a dip,sun ourselves,then go back to our room and take a nap.Before sunset we'd walk back to town to resume our dining at the café,this time relishing the native dishes.Reinforcing the images that we were in a special place, thinking maybe that we were meant to be here,I was waiting for someone to pinch me and wake me up.

Today ,I wonder what it's like day to day in Gravedona. Last year it was quiet and peaceful and the fragrance elicited a soft flow of pretty dreams. The slower you walk through life the more you take full measure of what your senses are saying.

With this pandemic knowing no boundaries we are all plunged into its maelstrom. If Gravedona's serenity enchanted me a year ago that tranquility has been transformed into a vacant morbidity.I don't know.I'm not there.I'm here,but what's happening here and everywhere,is a dose of reality that is unnerving and causing panic finger pointing. We want it to stop.And we want it to stop now. The reality is that it's not stopping fast enough. In many cases it's accelerating.The president's coronavirus taskforce is saying that 200,000 could die from Covid-19.

Three weeks ago something like what has lit upon us now was unthinkable. All our diversions and pettiness we yearn to engross us once more. But like I said once before,posting on the forum is a form of escape. I'll keep posting.I want to get my mind off something that can erode hope. Classic American West Coast let's me keep the faith.

Hedgemon Lewis, a welterweight contender during the 1960s and 1970s, has passed away. According to report in recent years, Lewis was bad shape and had been in a nursing home for awhile. I myself attended a bout between Hedgemon and Carlos Palomino that ended in a draw after ten rounds at the Olympic Auditorium. Hedgemon appeared to an edge in most of the rounds, but got staggered at least twice. As a result, the decision may have been fair one for both fighters.

- Chuck Johnston

Chuck1052 wrote: ↑31 Mar 2020, 20:00 Hedgemon Lewis, a welterweight contender during the 1960s and 1970s, has passed away. According to report in recent years, Lewis was bad shape and had been in a nursing home for awhile. I myself attended a bout between Hedgemon and Carlos Palomino that ended in a draw after ten rounds at the Olympic Auditorium. Hedgemon appeared to an edge in most of the rounds, but got staggered at least twice. As a result, the decision may have been fair one for both fighters.

- Chuck Johnston

Chuck
Very sad news.At the last WCBHOF ceremony Hedgemon Lewis was inducted.His sisters were there to accept his plaque. They both had nothing but good things to say about their brother.They recognized his abilities and were in his corner all the way.Sadly,they said they went to visit him at the nursing home,but that he was so far gone he didn't recognize them. Rick Farris also mentioned that when his friend Ryan O'Neal, who was in Detroit working on a film,went to visit Lewis that Lewis just drew a blank. O'Neal once had a piece of Lewis.I saw Lewis fight Raul Rodriguez at the Jai Alai Palace in Tijuana. O'Neal was there with a Hollywood entourage that included Jennifer O'Neill and Bill Cosby. Lewis demolished Rodriguez in two rounds. Well,the aficianados weren't going to take that lying down. They immediately searched out the Tinsel Towners and hit them with everything but the kitchen sink. Ryan and his party ran to the exits faster than Speedy Gonzalez.I was right behind them.RIP Hedge.



The Lewis sisters at the WCBHOF with their portrait of their brother painted by Jun Aquino

You Can't Judge A Man By His Purse

Hedgemon Lewis was a pretty good welterweight.When Hedgemon Lewis and Ernie Lopez were fighting it out to establish bragging rights in the Southland,Jose Napoles was waiting in Mexico for his visa in order to cross the border and settle the matter for once and for all. In the meantime Lewis was on an unbeaten streak showing off his stuff mostly under Aileen Eaton's steerage at the Olympic Auditorium. At the start Lewis was allowed to be viewed on the tube on the weekly cards at the Olympic with Mrs. Eaton building up his bouts implementing all her promotional guile. Indian Red was on the other side of the tracks notching impressive victories knowing that inevitably that the showdown would be a dream come true. By the time they faced off for the first time you had to have bought a ticket to see them fight. I was at the Olympic Auditorium that fight. Though neither man was Mexican(don't let the name "Lopez" mislead you about Ernie's bloodline)the aficianados became colorblind.They knew they we're going to see the two best welterweights north of the border.

Hedgemon Lewis had that classic stand up boxing style ala Sugar Ray Robinson. Every time he fought he was being compared to Robinson.There was one Sugar Ray attribute though that wasn't packaged with Hedgemon-durabilty. Indian Red wasn't taken aback by any of Lewis's flashy blows.By the middle rounds rolled around it was apparent that Lewis was wilting. In the 9th Hedgemon had had enough.Ernie was just too strong for him.I was pulling for Lewis but I could see that all my desire was wishful thinking.

At that time if you ever saw Hedgemon Lewis in street clothes you might think that here a diminutive fellow with no pretense of being someone more formidable.He was soft spoken,a bit shy,and never displayed outside the ring any hubris towards his fellow man. His reticent demeanor maybe caused his opponents to presume that crack in his armor. He fought three times for the welterweight title and came up a cropper in all thrice. it was a simliar pattern .He wasn't strong enough.Napoles knew it and so did Stracey keeping their crowns on their heads after rebuking Lewis's game but futile efforts.

I forget when it was.I was with a friend at the San Diego Coliseum.I'm drawing a blank about who was fighting that night. We were sitting a few rows back from ringside. Sitting in front of us was Hedgemon Lewis. He was wearing a strapped purse that was wrapped around his shoulder. There was a short time when this fashion style was in vogue. Now remember Hedgemon Lewis carried a frame of around 147 pounds.if he was standing in a crowd he'd be just another stick figure.. My friend didn't know that this guy with the purse sitting in front of us was a fighter. If I had told him he probably would have snickered.. I dummied up.Then my friend had to make a comment.
"Hey Roger.Since when do men start wearing purses?"
He made sure that Lewis was within earshot. It was too late to back peddle. Then who do you think plops his rear in the seat next to Hedgemon?His stablemate Kenny Norton. And he's adorned with a similar handbag. I was crossing my fingers that Lewis wouldn't "tell" on us. Well,he didn't.When my friend realized that Norton(he knew who Norton was) and Lewis were buddies he cowered down and didn't let out another peep.

Like I said before,Hedgemon Lewis was a pretty good welterweight. He couldn't win a title ,but because he was such a slick boxer he was fun to watch. And just because he faded against the stronger fighters didn't mean that he lacked guts. No.Hedgemon Lewis never backed down from any fighter. Perhaps the evidence of his courage was that later the dementia got a hold of him. In the ring he was slicker than a hot greased skillet, but he wasn't afraid of sticking his chin in there and wanting to exchange. He wasn't a hit and run away guy. Remember,they were comparing him to Sugar Ray Robinson. What Lewis didn't share with Sugar Ray was his beard. Lewis knew that,but if you're going to give the fans their money's worth it's like Joe Louis said about Billy Conn,"You can run but you can't hide."


Hedgemon Lewis

Manhandled

When Carlos Palomino made his induction speech at the West Coast Boxing Hall Of Fame ceremony at The Garland Hotel in North Hollywood he spoke a little about winning the welterweight title from John Stracey.One of the first things Carlos did was ask Hedgemon Lewis what he should look for when he stepped into the ring to challenge John H. for the crown.Previously, Stracey won a TKO against Lewis in his third bid to win a world championship. Lewis said that one of Stracey's main strengths WAS his strength. So to get ready for his first trip across the pond to fight in his first world title match in front of a presumably hostile crowd at Wembley Stadium,Carlos employed the services of sparring partners that resembled NFL linebackers. Carlos didn't want to let himself get manhandled in the fight so he enlisted his sparring partners to push and shove him around the ring so that when John H. tried to employ those bully tactics he'd feel light as a feather. And that's what happened. Throughout the fight Palomino caught Stracey with hard body shots as the Englishman tried to maul and mug his worthy and ready opponent. I'll never forget Stracey on all fours gasping for air after suffering from another Palomino left hook to the breadbasket. As the referee began the count over the desperate Stracey you could see on his hapless face that he'd let his fans down.The end was building up steam by that time.Stracey's pan was all busted up. His legs had weakened into a wobbly stagger.All he could muster up were some off and on flurries.Palomino had him in his sights.The crowd sensed it and so did Stracey,but his tank was running on fumes and there was no petrol station in his corner.. After his third trip to the canvas the referee waved it off.

I only saw Carlos Palomino fight once.That was against a very slick,and in my opinion, a fighter that deserves more print,Andy Price. The fight was at the San Diego Coliseum.It was the first time I'd seen either boys in the ring.Palomino hadn't lost a fight yet. Price's only defeat was a devastating one against Rudy Barro,the same fellow that put loss number one on Jimmy Heair.I left the arena that night impressed with both Carlos and Andy. It was a fight filled with lots of punches and devoid of clinches.Price got the split in his favor after ten very fast rounds.

After winning the title from Stracey I thought Palomino would stay on top of the heap for quite awhile.He was winning very impressively.Then he took a chance going to Puerto Rico to fight the flashy Wilfredo Benitez.The fight was a close one,but the stars were aligned right for the Puerto Rican in front of his homeboys in San Juan. It was close loss,but close is only a win in a game of horseshoes.But I thought Carlos would rebound.When he signed to fight Roberto Duran in Madison Square Garden I thought Palomino had a good chance to beat Duran who was now testing the waters of the welterweight division.However,it was in that fight that took the wind out of Carlos's sails. He didn't look like he had his heart in it. Carlos seemed that he didn't want to mix it up with the fighter with the hands of stone. After some of the rounds Palomino would give Duran a love tap on his rear before returning to his corner. I've always thought that that gesture was, in a way, a signal of submission.OK.I won't try to win if you let me last the fight. That's how I saw it anyway.

After John H. Stracey crushed my idol Jose Napoles in Mexico City I was crestfallen.Jose had him on the canvas in round numero uno,but Stracey got back up and mauled and mugged Mantequilla all around the ring until Jose ,almost needing a blood transfusion standing in his corner,knew that that would be adios. It was just like what Palomino did to Stracey at Wembley Stadium over 40 years go.I remember it like yesterday.


Carlos Palomino


Me and Carlos Palomino at the memorial ceremony for Mando Ramos at the longshoreman's hall in Long Beach, California. It was hotter than hell that day.I'm afraid I might have gotten some unwanted sweat on the champ

The Big Word

A few posts back ,when trying to come up with a word to describe a certain personalty, I opted for the noun, "hubris." I've never spoken that word,"hubris",to anybody. The reason I've never said "hubris" in a conversation is that it never seemed apropos.I can't think of a time ,that I tried to pull "hubris" out of my hat to make a point.I'm sure if I had I would have gotteng some strange looks or get laughed at.

Let's see.In the locker room with the the team after the big football game?I don't think so.
At the Coliseum working out with the fighters?Naw.
Hanging out with the greaseballs on Taylor Street in Little Italy?Hardly.
Working at the jail moving the prisoners around from cell to cell?That would have been rich.
Riding in the Urban League bus with the Ghetto Messengers?My bad.
Socializing with the fallen flowers of Tijuana's Coahuila?"Que loco!"

So the only times I've used the word "hubris" is when I'm writing.Now that the brunt of my composing is on the forum I'm sure somewhere down the road I'll sneak "hubris" into what I think is a purposeful paragraph.

I remember when I first saw "hubris" when I was reading a book. I can't recall the book,but when I saw "hubris" I was impressed.I had heard "hubris" before in conversation within the scholarly and intellectual ilk,but I didn't know what it meant. I was impressed with a word that I didn't know its meaning.It was about time that I dusted off the ol' Webster.After filling my literary void I began finding motives for utilizing my new word. But as far as using the word orally I couldn't pull the trigger. And because I abandoned the idea of saying it public I forgot the meaning.Thinking back,I bet Archie Moore would have would have embraced my pretension.The Mongoose was one of those guys who wouldn't shy away from quoting Shakespeare.But I knew about as much about Shakespeare as I did trying to influence with the "big" vocabulary.I love Shakespeare,but the problem I have is I don't understand the words.I've been in the classroom with professors that knew their Willie The Shake like the backs of their hands. When they'd stand in front of the class,all books open to the same page,and walk us through Hamlet,It all came to life.But without this erudite aid,the simile is like trying to decipher Dostoevsky in the original text.

So why would I use "hubris" only when I write?...to make you think I'm in the running for the Pulitzer Prize. How pathetic is that?I can get away with it on the forum I guess ,but those guys at the 32nd Street Naval Gym would have called "bull s--t."

Next time when I'm typing away and think that "hubris" is the proper word of choice, I think I'll switch to a similar cousin. "Hubris" is a big word,not that it has a lot of letters,but it's a word that you'd hear perhaps from a robed speaker at a university graduation. So instead of placing "hubris" amid all my written verbiage and windage,I found a better synonym-"Hautear."That's relevant to my inflated ego.But if you want to sit down and have a conversation you won't hear it from my lips.

Archie Moore.He wouldn't have shown any "hubris."

Familia Diaz

If you have a little lung power you could drive past my wife's hometown holding your breath. Jiquilpan,Michoacan according to the latest census,has give or take around 10,000 inhabitants. After frequenting the pueblo, sometimes twice a year, I'd say that number has dropped dramatically.Basically, for economic reasons, many of those residents have journeyed north to work in the United States.Some have permanently stayed while other work in the U.S. and then return to Jiquilpan to vacation visiting family and friends.

The State Department did a study a while back concluding that many of the migrants from Michoacán that venture to the U.S. go to Westchester County in the state of New York. I can verify that because the wife and I go to visit our nieces and nephews in New Rochelle from time to time it's like seeing a big slice of deja vu Jiquilpan . It's not only a way to acquire work by having a common social denominator , but coming from the same back home region adds a security serape to the equation. Where my wife and I have built our house in Jiquilpan,an area referred to as Las Lomas,is noted for its exodus of its citizens to the good ol' USA.

Though Jiquilpan is a speck on the Mexican map two presidents of the republic were born there-Anastasio Bustamante and Lazaro Cardenas. Cardenas was the president, who in the mid 1930's, who nationalized Mexico's oil after kicking out the big U.S, companies like Standard and Shell. The U.S. firms didn't take it sitting down and wanted FDR to send in the Marines like the country had done before when other Latin American governments were posing a threat of either giving these corporations the boot or just breaking down the doors and putting names in Spanish on the door. Roosevelt told the oil tycoons that there were more pressing matters he had to deal with like the depression and the ominous threats of war brewing in Asia and Europe.Lazaro Cardenas became an instant hero after standing up to the U.S.He was a president of the people,in a country where that office was a good old boys club that was notorious for broken promises and then running off with the nation's coffers knowing that the president could only serve one term.They had to grab as much as their grimy paws could hold for six years.Cardenas was the exception.So every Mexican in the state of Michoacán,and especially Jiquilpan,treasure their hero who they hold in as high esteem alongside the Pope.

Jiquuipan has always reminded me of an American counterpart to Andy Taylor's Mayberry except no Mayberry mother ever gave birth to a president of the United States. I don't think Mayberry neither could claim a boxing titlist. However,Jiquilpan can say that it had a native son that wore a title belt. Julio Diaz was that champion. Julio Daiz's family has boxing in their DNA. Brothers Joel and Antonio were pro fighters as was nephew ,Joel II. But if you ever walk through Jiquilpan and go to the town plaza and find a park bench to sit down on ,and then maybe want to strike up a conversation with someone sitting on the other end about Julio Diaz, you'd more then likely get no reaction. Realizing that the name Julio Diaz to anyone in Jiquipan is as irrelevant as who won the Masters Championship, it then may necessitate an explanation. Then the reaction might result in a raised eyebrow.But that's about as much as you'd elicit unless you wanted to embellish more.That would probably be enough for the listener to excuse himself and tell you he had to get a haircut.

The Diaz family made their trek to the U.S. when the kids were still in single digits.They settled in California working in the various fields in the Coachella Valley. It was there that the boys found the gym to their liking more than doing stoop labor.Honing his skills in the dusty towns of Indio and Temecula in front of fellow pickers wanting entertainment after busting their tails in the hot sun,Julio Diaz was leaving his mark and was on the cusp of fighting in the bigger venues for bigger bucks and a title.He won a NABA lightweight title and then wanted more,but failed in his first try at capturing the WBC belt from Jose Luis Castillo.There was another Diaz that was making a name for himself at that time,a Chicano,by the name of Juan.They called him The Baby Bull. The Diaz showdown came in 2007 .Baby Bull had three belts tied to his horns-the WBA,WBO,and IBF.

Baby Bull was too big and strong for Julio. He gave it his all,but Baby Bull hadn't earned that moniker on a whim. He wore Julio down to the point where at the end Julio could barely hold up his gloves .After that loss it was downhill. Julio got two more shots at a title but Shawn Porter and Keith Thurmond were too formidable to let Julio to strut around with their crowns on his head.

When I say that Julio Diaz was born in my wife's hometown I'm a little off the mark.Actually ,Julio and my wife were born on top of a mountain in a village called Paradones.Paradones is about a 15 minute drive up from Jiquilpan.Between the economic hardships and being in an unprotected area from the cartels there are maybe a dozen or so people who still want to call Paradones their home. I wonder if Julio Diaz recalls the place where he was born or even goes back for a visit.I suppose it's not worth even thinking about. An example would be going to the plaza and sitting on a park bench and then bring up his name to the guy sitting on the other end. I suggest if you're ever in that situation talk about Lazaro Cardenas.I'm sure that guy wouldn't be in need of getting a haircut.


Lazaro Cardenas

Paradones.My family and I making our way to the ranchito where my wife grew up.Maybe the Diaz family lived close by.

Telling Blows

When I mentioned the fight I saw at the San Diego Coliseum between Andy Price and Carlos Palomino I said it was "a fight filled with lots of punches and devoid of clinches" with Price walking away with a split decision victory. What I didn't say was that I had Carlos winning the fight.

How many times have I seen a fight where one guy is a head hunter and the other guy is working the body and the crowd goes nuts every time the headhunter lands one?That's what I saw with Price and Palomino.First let me say the crowds at the San Diego Coliseum weren't the same as the fans that packed the Olympic Auditorium in LA. The aficianados at the Olympic were xenophobic with their support of the Mexican fighter. The Chicano and Mexican national mix of supporters made no bones about who they were cheering on. The rule of thumb was if it was a Mexican national or a Chicano against someone else,someone else would have an added foe he'd have to deal with.If it was a Mexican national versus a Chicano, then the Chicano would get it stuck in his ear all night. This wasn't always the case in San Diego. Though most of the crowd was Mexican they weren't as avid as their cousins in Los Angeles.

The crowd that night at the Coliseum,as was usual, split down the middle:Mexican and mark an "X" in the box signifying other. Racism rarely reared its ugly head in San Diego.(The Pintor/Owen fight at the Olympic wouldn't earn any of those idiots in the stands a Nobel Peace Prize). The reason I had Carlos ahead at the end was that he threw,to put it in the vernacular,the more effective punches.

Andy Price was the flashier of the two. He started with a nice jab often following with a right or a combination.He had faster hands than Palomino,but Palomino was no stranger to this type off fighter.Carlos's strategy was to counter with body punches,and he was very effective answering Prices's leads. Andy would throw his shots and then move,but Carlos would double up to his ribs and stomach before Price could escape unharmed. So again.It was the head hunter Price with the flashier attack contrasted with Palominos thuds to the body. I can understand the novice scorer letting himself get duped,but the judges should know better.

There wasn't much of a squawk after Andy got his hand raised at the end. Who knows?If the fight would have taken place at the Olympic or the Forum there might have been a chair or a few bottles flung into the ring.Andy's punches,though landed a plenty,didn't stagger Carlos or even make him hold on,but I could see Andy make a face every time Carlos's gloves hit " la panza."

But this is a common scenario with boxing.Some people think that if you get hit in the head it hurts more than getting hit in the belly.Down the road ,a fighter who has taken a lot of shots to the head maybe can't remember his wife's name anymore,but ask any fighter about getting hit in the gut. There isn't a fighter alive that will tell you that he doesn't mind taking shots in the ol' breadbasket.Now there are fighters who will tell you that his opponent never hurt him.That response most likely refers to head shots. I'd hear Ken Norton in the gym say that "Ali never hurt me." When did Muhammad ever work the body?

I feel the same way about that Sugar Ray Leonard and Marvin Hagler showdown. Dummy Marvin gave away the first two rounds boxing orthodox thinking it would psyche out Ray. I think it helped blur the visions of the judges instead.Leonard would flurry to the head the last 30 seconds of each round then returning to his corner arms held high and smiling while Hagler prior to all this wind and smoke was pressing and shooting blows at Leonard's mid section. Flashy Ray,who could have earned a degree in psychology,got the split.Marvin never fought again.

I don't know if it's the same case anymore.In the amateurs. The judges aren't suppose to score anything for body blows. How isn't that stupid?I'm sure Carlos Palomino and Marvin Hagler have a comment or two regarding that.


Marvin Hagler

Two Cities,One Problem

While this coronavirus spreads the border cities of San Diego and Tijuana share this common dilemma,Covid -19. Trump may want to build a wall to stop the influx of undocumented immigrants and drugs from entering the U.S. however the spreading of germs isn't deterred by any man made barrier. The economic contrast between the two cities is immediately evident,but the mass of humanity that lives within the boundaries of San Diego County and the city of Tijuana are split down the middle without any population breaks between the two countries. Visually,it's a difference that the eye can see immediately,but within the two cities, considering what everybody is up against,the numbers of people are similar.Tijuana has population of around a million and a half.Ditto for the city of San Diego.

I was in Tijuana last Friday. U.S. Customs has erected checkpoints entering into Tijuana from the U.S. side stopping traffic asking what purpose you have for going across the border. So far as I can see no one is being turned away although Homeland Security has advised Americans not to go to Tijuana unless it's an "emergency."(Trump says that the people from Tijuana that legally work in the agricultural fields up here need to come across or we'll have nothing to eat.Take it from me.Any Mexican with papers that crosses to San Diego isn't working in the fields.He's employed in other areas,but he ain't working on no farm.There aren't any farms or fields in San Diego) An emergency? Oh,you can make up a good one like I don't have medical insurance so I'm going to see a doctor. Or a dentist.Or the drugstore.The U.S. custom guys really don't ask anything.

Coming back to the U.S. ,stopping first at the Customs checkpoint,you'll be asked the usual when presenting proper ID.
"Where do you live?"
"Why did you go to Tijuana?"
I don't even think the agents are listening to the ho hum answers.
"Have a nice day,"they say as they hand you back your papers.

The precautions that are being taken in Tijuana are beginning to resemble what San Diego and the rest of the country is doing:social distancing,self quarantining,and the closing of "public" places like bars and restaurants.You can see these practices being implemented in the downtown areas,but it's a half hearted try.It gets sloppy.For instance my wife wanted to stop at our favorite bakery before crossing back. Well,they only let a few in at a time,but the people who had to wait in the line outside were standing right on top of each other.Venture into the colonias and it's out of sight out of mind territory. Life is going on as before. People are grouped together socializing as before.They aren't worried about it. As far as the continuous hand washing,the wearing of masks and gloves,it's few and far between.

One of the big gripes about the dramatic death toll in New York City is that its inhabitants live "on top of each other."NYC has got nothing on TJ.Peole are packed on top of each other living shoulder to shoulder without space between.Proper sanitation,that has never been a top priority in Tijuana,has causes a look of despair once you drift off the beaten paths of the downtown area.Many of the colonias resemble pseudo junkyards:abandoned broken cars on the pothole ridden streets,garbage piled up on the sides of the road,piles of dog poop everywhere you walk,and structures that any concerned fire department would condemn in the blink of an eye. But the situation is so out of control it would be impossible to rectify this catastrophe. Besides,the people don't have the heart nor the desire to throw themselves into the battle.

Taking it a step further,the government down there isn't going to step up to the plate with any financial bailouts.If you lose your job,you're on your own. If your business goes under,tough.If you don't have any money to buy food to feed your family,so what else is new? The president Obrador is more concerned about getting the national oil company ,Pemex,back on its feet.

Then there's the medical equation to look at:ventilators,masks,hospital space,ambulances,enough frontline medical staff.There are very few doctors and the necessary resources are outdated and in need of repair or simply,they just don't have enough. You see on the street holding signs that have a variety of requests.
"I have cancer.Can you give me some money?"
"I'm sick and need medicine.Can you help me?"
Mothers pushing wheelchairs that seat their sick and handicapped children.
"My son needs an operation ,but I don't have any money.Please help. God bless."
Some of it is shamming,but most of it is legit.

Last Friday when my wife and I were in Tijuana to visit our daughter,I could see the worried expression on my wife's face. I knew what it was.Tijuana has always been a tough place to live. But now with this pandemic,Tijuana is going through an especially rough road. This is something real and close,and new to all of us.

But what gets me is how the two cities are handling this problem.I'm talking about the every day citizen. Tijuana is grudgingly adapting to our policies.There's gloom,but less doom than what I'm seeing here. There's a worry across the border.but less panic. Mexicans know that problems don't go away tomorrow. Things get worse before getting better. Here,it's we want this to end NOW.At least we want to wake up tomorrow and hear that everything is straightening itself out and by the end of the week things will be back to normal. But the doctors on our government's task force team are being asked the same question every day.
"When will this be over?"
The best they can offer is an educate guess.
"We don't know.Keep social distancing."
But that doesn't satisfy.Where's the magic bullet?
"18 months to come up with a vaccine."

I hate to say this but this epidemic has made me remove myself more from the general population by edict and personal choice. I've got my books,my crossword puzzles,I paint.there's the forum,I've got enough money,and most importantly I have my family.I guess I'm pretty lucky.

Hold The Onions

"Please Rogelio.Remember ,no onions."
That was what Rodolfo "Gato" Gonzalez requested over the phone; that my wife not add any onions to the dinner she was preparing to serve "Gato" and Barbara when they came over for dinner.
"Onions. I can't eat onions.Never.They make me sick,"said Gato.
I had invited "Gato" and Barb over especially so "Gato" could get a sampling of some authentic downhome cooking "estilo Michoacán." Rodolfo had fought a lot of his fights starting out his career in central Mexico. He was from Guadalajara, raised in a boxing environment comprised of his uncle,the great bantamweight champ,Jose Becerra and his cousin,the great flyweight titleholder,"Alacron" Torres. I knew that Rodolfo would be delighted talking over old times about his "patria chica" with my wife who was from his neighboring state of Jalisco. The dinner conversation would be covering more topics instead of focusing just on boxing.

"Gato" told me that when he was a kid that his father wanted him to become a bullfighter.
"I practiced being a bullfighter,"he said at the table waiting to be served."But let me tell you that bullfighting is more dangerous than fighting.Besides the bulls scared me."
While Barbara was helping out my wife in the kitchen Roberto told me that he'd go to the gym with his uncle and cousin so they could teach him the art of boxing.Roberto said that he wanted to be as good as they were in their primes.
"They showed me how to throw the left hook to the liver,"he explained."I'd practice that punch every day until it was an instinct that I didn't have to think about."
"There are some people in Jiquilpan that still remember your fights."
"I fought in the plaza de toros."
"It's still there,"I said."But it isn't used for much anymore. Mostly music concerts."
"I started out fighting in Michoacán and Jalisco. I never had an amateur career. I was 14 years old. I remember one guy I fought in Jiquilpan.He was 29.I won but I was fighting grown men.But I knew I had no other choice."
"The first time I saw you you were with Jackie McCoy at the San Coliseum in street clothes. I remember you were dressed very smartly."
"When I was a boy I always had to wear the clothes my old brother wore.I made up my mind that if I made money fighting that I'd buy nice clothes."
"I remember when you came up to the states.You lost some fights in the beginning."
"I was sick. I think I had hepatitis.There was something wrong with my liver.I was very weak."
"I remember one of your fights with Bobby Valdez.He was from San Diego."
"I was still not feeling well.I had just come up from Mexico and was having difficulty.I wasn't well."
"Then what happened?"
"I tell you Rogelio.I prayed to the Virgin of Guadalupe.I prayed for her to make me well again.And she did."
"That's when you got on that win streak."
"The only fight I lost was to Antonio Cervantes.They stopped it because of a cut.But he was cut too."
"You looked good beating Carmona winning the title."
"I was very confident that night.I knew he couldn't beat me."
"I always thought you had a style like Jose Napoles."
"You mean Mantequilla had a style like me,"he said with a laugh.
"You didn't look yourself against Ishimatsu."
"I was very dehydrated.I felt weak. Jackie McCoy wasn't with me over there in Japan."
"I saw you fight Clemente Mucino at the Arena 72 before the rematch with Ishimatsu."
"I knew that I had lost something by then. I felt old.After the rematch I retired."

I poked my head in the kitchen to see how dinner was going.
"It's almost ready,"said my wife.
I went back to sit with Rodolfo.
"What are we having?"he asked.
"Carne asada with frijoles and camarones empanizados and fresh tortillas."
"There are no onions I hope?"
"No Rodolfo. My wife remembered to hold the onions."

My wife and Barbara came into the dinning room carrying the platters of food. We all sat down to eat and never was another word mentioned about boxing.


Rodolfo "Gato"Gonzalez


Rodolfo just checking to see that there were no onions

A Warm Sunny Day

When I was a kid there was no Major League baseball on the West Coast yet.In 1958 the Brooklyn Dodgers and the New York Giants would leave The Apple and resettle in California. The Giants moving to San Francisco and the Dodgers going to Los Angeles. Walter O'Malley's "Bums" were beginning to lose its fan base in Brooklyn ,and their iconic stadium ,Ebbets Field was getting long in the tooth. O'Malley wanted to stay in Brooklyn but New York's city manager,Robert Moses,hand fought Walter about relocating and building a new ballpark on his own dime. They could never make an art of the deal. Upset to say the least,O'Malley decided he'd leave town,and with the League's OK,move out to the Coast. However,the League stipulated that there had to be two teams out West in order for things to come to fruition. Horace Stoneham,the owner of the Giants,like his counterpart O'Malley,was witnessing a decline of fans in the seats of their stadium, the old Polo Grounds.A lot of the problem was that the neighborhoods were deteriorating precipitating a move for the two owners to take their teams out West.

Prior to O'Malley's move there were two minor league ball clubs in Los Angeles,the Hollywood Stars that took the diamond at Gilmore Field,and the Los Angeles Angels that played round ball at Wrigley Field. Wrigley Field was erected in 1925 by the chewing gum czar,William Wrigley Jr.,who owned the Chicago Cubs who performed in the Major League venue ,Wrigley Field, on the Northside of the Windy City.LA's Wrigley was located near the south end of the city,that featured a small stucco Spanish style façade that seated around 20,000.I went to Wrigley field once with my cousin Bobby and his dad,my uncle Bob.They lived in North Hollywood.I know the Padres didn't play that day.My main reason was to see the Angel's Steve Bilko.He went 1 for 4.His lone hit was a single. More on him in the next paragraph.

I never set foot inside Gilmore Field. After the news came out that the Dodgers were coming,Gilmore Field went the way of the demolition derby and was razed in 1958. However,Wrigley Field was still standing. Without any big league baseball in California I focused on what we had here in San Diego,the PCL San Diego Padres.I was a follower of the team,but my main interest was with a player for the Angels.His name was Steve Bilko.In the Southland he was as big as sports celebrity as Art Aragon or Bob Waterfield.During the 1956 and 1957 seasons Steve Bilko hit 116 homeruns. He was so well known that Nat Hiken,the creator of the TV program "You'll Never Get Rich",named the main character played by Phil Silvers," Sgt.Bilko",after the Angels clean up hitter. As big a fence buster as Steve Bilko was every time he got called up to the home team he was a bust.I remember when he got a call(and this was just one of numerous calls)with the Chicago Cubs, He spent most of his time on the bench. The reason:he couldn't hit a Major League curveball.

Wrigley Field was also the site for many boxing matches.Sugar Ray Robinson recaptured the middleweight crown from Bobo Olson in 1956. Floyd Patterson handled "Cut And Shoot" Harris in a title defense. Joe Louis in a "bum of the month" bout did away with Jack Roper.

But with all the action at Wrigley Field my favorite endeavor was watching the television program,Home Run Derby. The program was taped in 1960 and was comprised of two players noted for their long ball histrionics, standing at the plate, swinging at the ol' pill thrown by a batting practice pitcher, trying to launch as many baseballs possible into Never Never Land. The player, after "nine" innings, that hit the most balls out of the park was the winner. Wrigley Field was symmetrical and so there wasn't an advantage to either a left handed or right handed hitter. The program was filmed in an empty stadium during the morning.The hazy LA sky basked in the California sun exuded a full measured sleepy time aura that reminds me of a time when life was a lot simpler.

A life a lot simpler.Today,that's a big challenge.I think I'll break out some of my old tapes of Home Run Derby and watch Mickey Mantle going head to head with his old crosstown rival Willie Mays in Wrigley Field. The old ballpark ain't there anymore.Neither is Mickey,but the "Say Hey Kid" is still with us.I'm going turn my phone off now so don't try getting in touch with me for awhile. I'll be somewhere long ago and far away like the name of that ol' song.

Better Than Going To the Movies

I was watching a short documentary about Stillman's Gym in New York City. The episode was part of the program that was on once a week on Sunday afternoons called ,Omnibus.I have a DVD set of some of the shows. I remember watching Omnibus back in the 50's. Omnibus and the Edward R. Murrow's show,Face To Face, were the two best docuseries on the tube. Alistair Cooke hosted Omnibus. He was a transplanted British journalist who came over to the U,S. in 1932 and fell in love with the country. He was fascinated with the American way of life and spent most of his professional time living in America writing and broadcasting about daily life in his second home.In 1952 he began hosting the Omnibus show that was like a pre Charles Kuralt take on Americana.He lived in New York City and a lot of his productions centered on what was happening in,at that time,the worlds most populated burg. Stories about Grand Central Station,the nuts and bolts of putting out an edition of the New York Times,nightlife in The Apple... One episode that intrigued me was the segment about Lou Stillman's Gym filmed in 1956.

The erudite Cooke probably felt a little out of his element about sports,especially boxing,so the popular sports broadcaster Bud Palmer was the surrogate. Don't get me wrong,Cooke(who I liked to call "Cookie"because of the "e" at the end of his name) was not a snob. He seemed very humble and deferred to his guests quite often.but sending Palmer out with a crew was a better fit. What I especially liked about Omnibus(and Ed Murrow's show)was that it was taped "live" without any editing. Palmer walked into Stillman's on a Sunday when the show was shown to a "live" national audience. Normally,Stillman's was closed on Sunday,but Lou Stillman was nice enough(which wasn't always a part of his personality)to open the doors for Omnibus.

The word must have gotten out that the gym was going to open its doors to the public that day because the place was full of fighters and onlookers.Sugar Ray Robinson,who had just won the middleweight championship from Bobo Olson,was Palmer's guide. First stop was to talk with the owner,Lou Stillman.The gruff Stillman recalled the Halcyon days of the early 20th century when Stillman (whose real name was Lou Ingber)provided his facility for such boxing immortals like Benny Leonard,Jack Dempsey,Gene Tunney,and Harry Greb just to mention a few. With Sugar Ray by Palmer's side ,Stillman rued that the boxing scene in New York was changing character, and especially his gym. Less fighers(he had about 100 paying fighters on his books instead of the usual 400 that used to come in and workout),the advent of television,the local arenas going belly up,and kids wanting to try their hands playing football,baseball,and basketball instead of getting punched in the head.

Stillman opened his doors to the general public.That's where he,and all gyms, made most of their money. The white and blue collar worker was offered training in the manly art for a pittance of only 6 dollars a month. If you were a curious onlooker they'd let you through door and trek upstairs to watch the fighters train for 50 cents.

Robinson explained how he would train inside the Stillman's though he hadn't trained there since he was a beginning pro. Boxing gyms are there for the fighter to use on a daily basis mostly, to stay sharp and practice the fundamentals. If he's a well known commodity and signs for a big fight,then he's off to the training camp in the mountains for more fresh air and less distractions.

I liked to go down to the old San Diego Coliseum or the gyms in Tijuana to watch the high profile fighters pare down their training before a big fight.Training camp was over.Now it was just staying tuned up.I got as much out of watching someone like Muhammad Ali or Jose Napoles going through their gym training as much as the fight itself.

When I heard that Mantequilla Napoles was going to workout at the firemens' gym in Tijuana, that was sandwiched between the jail and the fire station,I made a beeline for the place. The gym was small and very crowded that day.I worked my way up the stairs and nudged myself enough close to the ring to get sprayed with sweat.Napoles came in with towels and his robe covering his upper body,hands taped, ,beads of perspiration wetting his look, following the footsteps of his old Cuban trainer,Kid Rapidez,Jose was gregarious, joking and shaking hands with everyone as he strode in,his persona devouring everybody in his path. He was THEE MAN ,and he knew it.

After settling down he disrobed, put on his tomcat face with those penetrating stoic eyes, and climbed into the ring and began shadowboxing.I'm going to stay right here with this.I've always been intrigued by the way a fighter shadowboxes.I could see why they called him "Mantequilla".He was the most relaxed,graceful,fighter I'd ever seen inside the ropes. He never wasted energy getting all wound up and tight. He liked to counter mostly and lure guys in,but if he thought his opponent didn't want any part of him ,he could use his jab that was like a piston that jumped into a face and then let go with combinations.Good fighters think "feet first"to set themselves up for what they want to do with their hands.Napoles ,when shadowboxing,worked on his style that he would take with him into the ring the night of the fight.It was like watching a dancer going through his routine.His feet were always under him. He'd dip his shoulders,lean and swerve,moving his head,eyes looking straight ahead:everything had a purpose.He didn't throw a lot of punches.Just holding back with some short ones without full force. The onlookers,including myself, were in a trance.

Getting back to what Lou Stillman had to say about the public wanting to come to his gym and watch the fighters train for 50 cents.I think about that time at the firemens' gym in Tijuana watching Jose Napoles workout. It was something that belonged in Lincoln Center.And to think I didn't have to spend a dime.If I had gone to the movies I would have had to cough up 50 cents.

"Mantequilla"

30 Days

It's been around 30 days since the world got turned on its head. Oh,the virus was there before we were made to knuckle under to austerity.Some think it is an overreaction.Others have jumped in with both feet. In 30 days the complexion of the country went from the everyday playacting to a slug in the gut. I look back and dismiss the pettiness of partisan politics,the melodramatics of the talking head media,and all the self- absorption.Now all those bad actors seem superfluous.To see the finger pointing that's going on is enough to make us say "You need to go sit in the corner and take a timeout."As far as I'm concerned I stay away from the news. It isn't news anyway but exercises in propaganda that are rammed down our throats.

Are things as bad as they say it is? We get a running count of the daily death toll. At the start we thought it would go away.Give it a week or two. Then the task force said that 200,000 people in the country would not be around for Christmas. We're sweating bullets. We can't be around each other. We can't touch each other. There was a poll that came out saying that 52% of Americans believe that shaking hands is a thing of the past. Porn sites on the internet are overloaded.

People pine for the good old days when the flu was just something that went away after staying in bed and drinking a lot of liquids. But isn't that what they're telling you if you think you have the symptoms? I remember the Asian flu in 1958 that took the lives of 70,000 Americans. What I don't remember is the mandatory restrictions.There was no panic in the streets. I know if I had the flu I wouldn't want to be around anyone.But they say you can have it and not know it.But if you don't have symptoms you won't get tested. So as a precaution they've all but shutdown the economy.Congress,after getting into an all time pissing contest,passed bills to douse the fire with money. We'll have to wait and see.When it all comes out in the wash the banks will hold their deed on the world. Call it whatever you want.Capitalism.Socialism.It won't matter.

I think back when there were the good ol' days when the life expectancy was around 45 years.When the Spanish flu wiped out 20,000,000 souls and your great grandparents never talked about it. "Antibiotics" wasn't even a word then. You'd ask a woman how many children she had and she'd say something like,"4 that lived and 2 that died."

Being a fighter was a lot tougher.Joe Gans leaning over the ropes in his fight with Battling Nelson vomiting blood from his lungs because his tuberculosis had consumed his life's breath. You think they would have been at least considerate enough to quarantine him from the crowd. Then there was Billy Miske,his kidneys shutting down from Brights disease, who got into the ring with Jack Dempsey to get a payday in order to pay off the docs. How many years did Sam Langford fight with one eye after the Fulton fight? Today,would they have let Ad Wolgast and Battling Nelson fight like they did for 45 rounds?

Today,you walk inside a convenience store and the clerk behind the register, wearing his mask, wonders if you are the guy that is going to kill him.It's an added nightmare that people have lost their jobs over the shutdown and whether small businesses will ever reopen. You can't put the world on hold and think that with the wave of the magic wand we can hit the boards running again.

The last 30 days has seemed like a surrealistic bad dream.But so far we wake up everyday with the same scenario.It's a life where we are all in it together.The world is a minefield and we all have to tip toe through it.It's not something like a foreign war that's put in the back of our minds because it's far far away.Or something more isolated like an act of terrorism.Distance is a determining factor when you have to think of yourself.

Getting back to the Spanish flu pandemic or more recently the Asian flu of 1958 , the Hong Kong flu of 1968, or the Swine flu that ran rampant 10 years ago.It was kept on the back burner back then.We weren't told to give up our jobs and stay away from our parents and children.That's scary stuff.When I was kid the news isn't like it is today. At 6 o'clock the local news came on for 15 minutes followed by the national news for another 15.Walter Cronkite, and Huntley and Brinkley didn't have that much airtime.Today,it's a 24/7 barrage of gloom and doom with the running death toll scrolling at the bottom of the TV screen and who to point the finger at.

Fear is the great manipulator. When you have your foot on their necks they'll do anything you say to relieve the pressure.You're been transformed into a different person.Freedom is sacrificed and identities are changed. We put our trust into the hands of the people who are sowing the seeds of this tumult.

To think 30 days ago the world wasn't as bad as they made us believe. Today,it's bad. But I want to be optimistic. My advice is if you want to keep your sanity, turn off the news.

Joe Gans