BoxRec

Name Your Prism

Through our eyes we make judgements that are based on what we believe is to be true. In response we are looked at and judged by eyes that have been filtered through the prisms of others. For example,the Allies won World War 2.Germany and Japan's leaders were evil. That's how it's been written.The "winners" write the history books. On the other hand if Hitler and Hirohito's armies had conquered,Roosevelt,Churchill,and Stalin would have been perceived as the monsters.Instead of Nuremburg and Tokyo,the war trials would have been held in Berlin with Ike on the hot seat,and Tokyo, but with MacArthur sitting in the defendant's chair. When the dust settled and the Cold War began to freeze up,Uncle Joe was now seen as the villain.

With sports it's not a case of "good" against "evil",though before the Louis/Schmeling rematch Goebbels was playing the "race card' for Herr Max believing that his genes were better than Joe's. Here in America the press was also playing the color card with Tom Jefferson's line that "All men ae created equal." In practice both sides were off the mark.Black soldiers came back from the war fighting for freedom yet couldn't sit on a white man's toilet.Hitler could never concede that he had it wrong, and it took an act of congress 20 years later to enact equal rights finally into law though it didn't take hold in the South. Hitler let his armies and his people get slaughtered by the Russians and the round o'clock bombing by the Army Air Corps and the RAF.Hirohito had convinced his people to commit suicide rather than surrender,but two A bombs finally convinced him to throw up a white flag.

I'm sure we're all happy that Germany and Japan lost the war.I'm sure that Germany and Japan are happy too. But getting back to sports,in this case boxing,it's always interesting to read what the scribes and the public in general have to say about fighters and outcomes. As by now you know I don't put much credence in polls. For example,I've never seen Sandy Saddler's name ranked above Wikllie Pep's in a poll of the greatest featherweights even though Sandy had Willie's number in 3 out of the 4 times they fought each other. So why is Pep considered the better fighter?A lot of the "experts" say that Pep was never the same after he crashed in that airplane. But I think it goes deeper than that(this is what I see through my prism) Sandy was never an outgoing guy.His personality had little to offer the public,and he was black. Pep was very popular with Italians and when Saddler beat him the first time the dagos had to come up with a plausible denial.It was the airplane crash. If he hadn't crash landed he would have beaten Saddler with one hand tied behind his back. When I was kid living in the Italian neighborhood in Chicago I was led to believe they had only fought each other once-the time Pep won the rematch in the Garden.

But sports forums and blog sites are there for the back and forth of "who was the best?" and "who could have beaten who?" The problem I have with it though is that one guy's "take" never convinces the other guy to change his opinion.And when someone presents his case with eloquence of style with geometric logic and computerized assessed data and STILL the other guy is not swayed,then we see the discussion deteriorate into something that lacks all those qualities I just mentioned.People would rather continue being wrong than have to admit it. At least that's how I see it through my "Looking Glass."

Willie Pep

They Got Their Money's Worth

I read an interview with former heavyweight fighter and movie actor Jack O'Halloran sometime ago and found his revelations about his fight with Kenny Norton very interesting. O'Halloran says his father was Albert Anastasia,who his mother had affair) Anastasia was one of Murder Incorporated's,most notorious characters. Jack also had his opinions on who killed JFK and Marilyn Monroe because he was privy to organized crime figures who told him how and why those "hits' went down.He also added that he had signed to fight Muhammad Ali for four fights,but that they never came off. (No explanation provided).However,O'Halloran said that Ali had called him up on the phone and asked the big guy to do him a favor:to fight his brother Rahman and to beat him soundly because he was "embarrassing me"Jack knocked out Ali's bro. I saw that fight at the Coliseum. Even in his worst outing Muhammad was a better fighter than his brother on his best day.

But then O'Halloran described his fight with Ken Norton that was also held at the San Diego Coliseum.

"...I trained four or five days for the fight and gave him the worst lickin's he ever got.I cut him up pretty bad, and actually, I really won the fight and in the 9th round,the fight was probably the one of the greatest heavyweight fights they'd seen in California in years.At the end of the 9th round,people were standing on their chairs,and at the end of the round the people were screaming so loud that no one heard the bell and they rang it three times and finally the referee separated us and as I was going back to my corner Norton ran across the ring and hit me in the back of the head and drove me into the post and the Commissioner then got into the ring and said to me that if I couldn't continue that I got fouled and won the fight. I said I wanted to kill him and like a fool I went out for the final round but that there was no way I could win in his hometown."


Jack went on that Norton would never fight him again and they became friends anyway.Hmm.

I think the San Diego Coliseum seating capacity maxed out around 1500.I was sitting ringside that night when the two fought.The house was packed. It was a month or so ago I gave you my take on the fight. It's a bit different than Jack's recollection.

Even though Norton fought out of San Diego,the crowd that night was in O'Halloran's corner. Norton was a notoriously slow starter.Jack fought slowly because that's about as hard as could put the pedal to the metal.Norton was coming out of his malady of hitting the wall midway through a fight. There was a shrink in town that was working with him to overcome his dilemma. The boys were plugging along swatting each other back and forth and it looked like if O'Halloran could last he'd win. O'Halloran like I said was very popular in San Diego.The crowd was with him. Going into the 6th round it was too close to call. Then Norton landed a haymaker and Jack crashed to canvas like a hewn oak tree.(Jack forgot to mention that in the interview) O'Halloran couldn't rally after that. Norton didn't foul him at the end of the 9th round.By the way there was no blood emanating from either fighter. It was pretty clear that Jack would not come out with the win,but the decision was just.It was an exciting fight,not great ,but the fans got their money's worth.

Jack's rendition of his fight with Norton is a big stretch to what actually transpired. But who rally cares?Like I said the 1500 fans that were there got their money's worth.Probably the only two who talked about it years later are me and Jack.


Muhammad Ali.According to O'Halloran he did Ali a favor by knocking out his brother.Hmm

An Empty Arena

As the nation tries to move to open up society,the steps taken are gradual. It's a little sad to turn on ESPN and hear the broadcasters talk about draft picks,trades,schedules like everything is going to bounce right back into place in awhile. Oh sure,the commissioners talk about playing games in front of nobody.Empty arenas and so on. To some of you that may like a sensible and safe way to begin. Safe,I guess.Sensible...well you can have it.I'll wait until it gets back to what it used to be. When that will happen is anyone's guess.

The roar of the crowd is an intangible ingredient inside,let's say,the boxing arena. Think about the first Archie Moore/Yvon Durelle fight.Imagine if that fight would have been staged inside an empty arena? Would Moore had gotten up after the Canadian knocked him to the canvas those three times in the 1st?With the rawness of hysterical throng venting their souls at the two battlers inspires an inspiration that sometimes a fighter on his own can't dig down and find.The aura of the crowd is just as an important part of the equation as the combatants.

Let's get back quickly to Moore and Durelle. Watch the fight on YouTube and turn off the sound.The electricity is throttled down.No wonder silent movies gave way real fast to talkies.If the promoters only option is to stage fights to empty seats it will seem to me that I'm watching a sparing match instead of a boxing match.

Watching old film on YouTube of past great fighters like Gans,Langford,Dempsey,and Johnson we don't get that extra jolt of electricity because there's no sound.But we can imagine the noise emanating from the Polo Grounds when Dempsey and Firpo were tearing at each other like two of wild animals. I'm sure the visceral discharge from the paid seated had a lot to do with how those two wanted to prevail. If nothing else, if there was no one at ringside during that fight there wouldn't have been any scribes to push Dempsey back into the ring.Thus Firpo would have won the title.There's nothing more exciting in sports than watching a good fight in a jammed packed arena with everyone in the crowd going bonkers.On the other hand if the two boys don't feel like engaging,well...the bugs will let them have it hard and loud.

No.I'll wait until everything is back to what it was. If I can't attend in person I'll watch it on the tube and feel the crowd's breath,hear all the shouts venting from their spleens.

Talk to a renown musician:a singer,dancer,instrumentalist.He'll tell you that he never made a good "studio recording."The atmosphere is sterile. It would be the same with boxing.I'll get inside my time machine and put Tony Zale and Rocky Graziano together inside an empty Madison Square Garden.Some sparks might fly but the warmth from those particles couldn't heat a can of soup.

The Greatest And The Greatest

Stumbled upon this picture. I think it's really cool. Touching.Can't get anymore Mexican than this.



Kid Azteca and Julio Cesar Chavez

I don't know how the younger aficianados feel about Kid Azteca,but I remember the day when Mexico had him right up there to make a saint out of him.Used to have an old copy(sometime in the 1930's) of a Ring Magazine with him on the cover.Got s--t faced one night in my brother in laws bar just off Revolucion. Started getting weepy and sentimental and now the magazine hangs in a frame behind the bar. Good as place as any.Why ain't this guy in the IBHOF?


The last I looked inside Azteca is still behind the bar.I wonder how many conversations he started?

Television And Boxing And Race

Goose's thread got a lot of inciteful responses,but one critical factor was left out-race. Sure,TV hurt a lot of the venues.But TV hurt the movie industry also,but that didn't lead to the closing of the local movie house.(HBO.CineMax,and Netfix to mention a few later did that job).

I'll start my position with what boxing's mood was prior to World War II.The white public ,that attended to nearly 100% of the sporting events, weren't interested in watching black athletes unless they wanted to see them lose.I'll stick with boxing right now.Prior to the war the three black fighters who were getting title shots and fighting the top non black fighters were Henry Armstrong,Ray Robinson,and Joe Louis. These three fellows were such great fighters, that ,in a way ,they got a pass with the big time promoters back east and Madison Square Garden.Of course the Black Murderer Row bunch were excluded ,at least from getting title shots,and mostly fought each other. The white public wasn't interested in watching two black fighters,as good as they might be,fight each other.And that was what good black fighters mostly did.But with Armstrong,Robinson,and Louis it wasn't the fact that they had the fans behind them,it was a matter of waiting to see if a white fighter could beat them.

After losing to Zivic twice,Armstrong never got another title shot.He went on fighting successfully for another four years and fighting another forty times before retiring. Robinson drew the color line when he won the championship unless you could consider Gavilan who was a black Cuban colored.Today,we can't understand why Robbie ducked Burley,Williams,et al,but the fellas's who put the title fights together knew the public wasn't interested.The result would be just another black guy exchanging the crown. Joe Louis prior to the war fought only one black fighter for the title,John Henry Lewis,who was almost legally blind. The public wasn't too interested ,and besides Louis was gonna' win anyway.

We who are still around and remember,can tell you that the fans prior to the war didn't want any other black fighters(besides the three I mentioned) dominating the titles.And they wanted to see them LOSE. The second Louis /Schmeling was an exception. Today,we think especially of Robinson and Louis as being popular in their day.No.The white fans who paid at the door came to see those guys lose. But go to the fights today. Black fighters are on equal footing with the lily whites when it comes to fan appeal.

But the metamorphosis after the war was traumatic in society. And now comes television to offer another media sensation like no other since the talking movie,but to say that it was a major factor in boxing's wane is misleading.Remember,Truman intergrated the armed forces. Laws were being enacted to integrate society and passed by The Supreme Court.Boxing was also changing rapidly. Kids didn't go to the gym to learn how to box. Their parents put them in the new modes of sports activities-Little League and Pop Warner Football. What parent born in the 20th century encouraged or wanted his son to be a fighter?Not the white parents.

When Marciano retired opening up the most cherished title in the sport,it was two black fighters who vied for the crown. Boxing took a nose dive. Patterson was a "cheese champ' who didn't want to fight Liston,Folley,and Machen.He drew the color line with the exception of Hurricane Jackson and no one cared about that one. Louis was just a shell of himself fighting Uncle Sam mostly. Robinson was still a draw but after unretiring he was beatable and that's what the public was waiting for.So the best fighters around were the blacks. But you've got to remember this,the fans were the same guys that attended the fights prior to WW II.They weren't interested in black fighters.good as a lot of them were.And they could care less if hey fought one another.When Patterson finally relented from the pressure and fought Liston it was two black guys fighting for the most important of crowns.The results of their two fights put boxing at its nadir. There were a few Italian boys left, but now the sport was being dominated by blacks and Latinos. Those old fight fans were turned off.You could say Basilio was the old timers' last hurrah.

It wasn't until Clay came around that the color blinds came off.That was due to the emerging younger generation,the offspring of those old fight fans who were now enrapt by Ali. They identified with him.Pops?Well ,they should have thrown him in Leavenworth for good.With the cultural and social revolution of the mid 60's and The Greatest stepping in to save the day with boxing winning the heavyweight championship, it didn't matter anymore if two black fighters fought each other.With the balck and Latino fighters there wasn't much left. The younger generation was now going to the fights. Their heroes were Ali,Duran,and Leonard. Go to the fights today. It' a multi colored montage of faces.If anything you don't see many Trump voters.

Today there are few good American white fighters. (Whatever happened to Pavlik?)The best white fighters are from across the pond. That's why MMA is taking off.The big American vanilla faces who are left are fighting for Dana White. There is an abundance of American heavyweights fighting barefooted,but not any Yanks that can fight a lick in any of the boxing divisions.

So it wasn't so much television in the beginning that began the closing of the arenas as it was race. The white guys that paid to see boxing matches wanted their skin tone represented at the top. But those old white guys are long gone,but the situation is much worse if you're takin' to boxing and wearing color blinds Today,you'll find the American palefaces battling each other in a cage where they belong.


Henry Armstrong

Thinking about what I wrote,it's fair to say that the sport of boxing has descended again to the state it was in during the 50's,even lower.Ali brought life back into it. He was followed by Holmes and later Tyson.There were good American heavyweights fighting each other. In the Southland the activity in the arenas was first rate. The Big 4:Duran,Hagler,Leonard,and Hearns were terrific to watch. But I'm looking at all this from an American perspective. When Tyson finally flopped for the last time,the interest was shifting towards the MMA.If America doesn't dominate the heavyweight division and especially the championship we'll find another pugilistic adventure that we can lay claim to,and it has nothing to do with race. A black heavyweight champion is hunky dory with U.S. fight fans. But there's nothing out there.The well ran dry a long time ago. Deontay Wilder was a mirage. I couldn't tell you who's left on the American menu.

But with this plague of a virus that has turned the world upside down I don't think many are having any panic attacks about who is the heavyweight champion of the world. When it all comes out in the wash it will probably be some guy with a last name of Wu. I think that's part of their plan anyway.

Linguini And Clams

After Angelo Dundee had had enough of training fighters he was often a guest on these ESPN boxing shows that featured commentary from the so called experts regarding the sport. It was always especially interesting to me when Dundee was sandwiched between other "goombas" like Lou Duva,Ray Mancini,or the former welter and middleweight champion who he trained,Carmen Basilio.Angelo was never critical or took a cheap shot at another fighter to stir up the pot. "Life was beautiful", like that expression that was going around at the time, he'd like to say. Sometimes another host on the show, like the over the top Bert Sugar or the smug Brian Kenny, would try to slip in a wisecrack,but Dundee would never join the club

.I remember one time they were doing a show that highlighted the life of Sugar Ray Robinson. Dundee was there sitting beside Carmen Basilio.Kenny and Sugar sat there joined at the hip looking like a couple of smart alecks. What piqued their bad behavior was that it was obvious to everyone that Basilio was forgetting to duck when he was being taken a swing at. I often wondered if Basilio got tired of being asked "How great a fighter was Sugar Ray?"every time he was asked to add his take about The Great Sugar Ray,especially since he never cared for Robinson. But there is plenty of good film of the two bouts between Carmen and Ray and it was used extensively about the attributes of Robinson by the Sugar and Kenny.Rarely did Carmen get any kudos,except by Dundee, for his efforts.

So on this show Kenny and Sugar are sitting at one end together and Dundee and Basilio are working tandem.It looked like an impromptu tag team. Dundee had Carmen's hand. He wanted to steady his old fighter in case he got himself pinned on the ropes.While they're watching the film of the fights Sugar and Kenny are trying to out do each other with piling up the accolades on Robinson. I was watching Basilio. All this time he seemed to be in another arena. Angelo wouldn't let go of his hand.Finally,Dundee said that Basilio was the hardest working fighter he ever trained. And of course,his favorite fighter.Dundee never said "Ali" during the entire program.

Dundee went on to add that Basilio had a picture perfect left hook that was the key weapon in his arsenal.Dundee had to say something on Basilio's behalf.Kenny and Sugar had him on the pay no mind list.My eyes were still on Carmen while Dundee countered.Dundee's praise didn't evoke any reaction.I think all the linguini and clam sauce unnerved Sugar and Kenny.Just then came the suckerpunch from Kenny's side.He leaned over to Basilio bypassing Dundee's stare.
"Carmen,"said the cat that swallowed the canary,"Why don't you show us that left hook of yours that you used on Robinson?"
Basilio sat erect and shot out o snappy little jab.Kenny got what he wanted and giggled along with that stinking cigar with the fedora covering the bald head sitting next to him.
"Can you show us that again?"smirked Kenny.
Basilio obliged.Now the giggles turned to laughter.

I hate that kind of what you Brits call "shite".Sugar and Kenny were supposed to be holders of the history of the sport. You're talking Basilio and Robinson. That's sacred territory.But no,they had to get a laugh at Carmen's expense.Dundee sat there and knew exactly what happened. But what was he gonna' do?He didn't like that kind of "shite".(I'm beginning to like that word)That "shite" wasn't in his nature. But if it were me,I'd taken that platter of linguini and clams and rubbed it in Brian Kenny's face.


Angelo Dundee

dagosd2000 wrote: ↑21 May 2020, 18:39 Television And Boxing And Race

Goose's thread got a lot of inciteful responses,but one critical factor was left out-race. Sure,TV hurt a lot of the venues.But TV hurt the movie industry also,but that didn't lead to the closing of the local movie house.(HBO.CineMax,and Netfix to mention a few later did that job).

I'll start my position with what boxing's mood was prior to World War II.The white public ,that attended to nearly 100% of the sporting events, weren't interested in watching black athletes unless they wanted to see them lose.I'll stick with boxing right now.Prior to the war the three black fighters who were getting title shots and fighting the top non black fighters were Henry Armstrong,Ray Robinson,and Joe Louis. These three fellows were such great fighters, that ,in a way ,they got a pass with the big time promoters back east and Madison Square Garden.Of course the Black Murderer Row bunch were excluded ,at least from getting title shots,and mostly fought each other. The white public wasn't interested in watching two black fighters,as good as they might be,fight each other.And that was what good black fighters mostly did.But with Armstrong,Robinson,and Louis it wasn't the fact that they had the fans behind them,it was a matter of waiting to see if a white fighter could beat them.

After losing to Zivic twice,Armstrong never got another title shot.He went on fighting successfully for another four years and fighting another forty times before retiring. Robinson drew the color line when he won the championship unless you could consider Gavilan who was a black Cuban colored.Today,we can't understand why Robbie ducked Burley,Williams,et al,but the fellas's who put the title fights together knew the public wasn't interested.The result would be just another black guy exchanging the crown. Joe Louis prior to the war fought only one black fighter for the title,John Henry Lewis,who was almost legally blind. The public wasn't too interested ,and besides Louis was gonna' win anyway.

We who are still around and remember,can tell you that the fans prior to the war didn't want any other black fighters(besides the three I mentioned) dominating the titles.And they wanted to see them LOSE. The second Louis /Schmeling was an exception. Today,we think especially of Robinson and Louis as being popular in their day.No.The white fans who paid at the door came to see those guys lose. But go to the fights today. Black fighters are on equal footing with the lily whites when it comes to fan appeal.

But the metamorphosis after the war was traumatic in society. And now comes television to offer another media sensation like no other since the talking movie,but to say that it was a major factor in boxing's wane is misleading.Remember,Truman intergrated the armed forces. Laws were being enacted to integrate society and passed by The Supreme Court.Boxing was also changing rapidly. Kids didn't go to the gym to learn how to box. Their parents put them in the new modes of sports activities-Little League and Pop Warner Football. What parent born in the 20th century encouraged or wanted his son to be a fighter?Not the white parents.

When Marciano retired opening up the most cherished title in the sport,it was two black fighters who vied for the crown. Boxing took a nose dive. Patterson was a "cheese champ' who didn't want to fight Liston,Folley,and Machen.He drew the color line with the exception of Hurricane Jackson and no one cared about that one. Louis was just a shell of himself fighting Uncle Sam mostly. Robinson was still a draw but after unretiring he was beatable and that's what the public was waiting for.So the best fighters around were the blacks. But you've got to remember this,the fans were the same guys that attended the fights prior to WW II.They weren't interested in black fighters.good as a lot of them were.And they could care less if hey fought one another.When Patterson finally relented from the pressure and fought Liston it was two black guys fighting for the most important of crowns.The results of their two fights put boxing at its nadir. There were a few Italian boys left, but now the sport was being dominated by blacks and Latinos. Those old fight fans were turned off.You could say Basilio was the old timers' last hurrah.

It wasn't until Clay came around that the color blinds came off.That was due to the emerging younger generation,the offspring of those old fight fans who were now enrapt by Ali. They identified with him.Pops?Well ,they should have thrown him in Leavenworth for good.With the cultural and social revolution of the mid 60's and The Greatest stepping in to save the day with boxing winning the heavyweight championship, it didn't matter anymore if two black fighters fought each other.With the balck and Latino fighters there wasn't much left. The younger generation was now going to the fights. Their heroes were Ali,Duran,and Leonard. Go to the fights today. It' a multi colored montage of faces.If anything you don't see many Trump voters.

Today there are few good American white fighters. (Whatever happened to Pavlik?)The best white fighters are from across the pond. That's why MMA is taking off.The big American vanilla faces who are left are fighting for Dana White. There is an abundance of American heavyweights fighting barefooted,but not any Yanks that can fight a lick in any of the boxing divisions.

So it wasn't so much television in the beginning that began the closing of the arenas as it was race. The white guys that paid to see boxing matches wanted their skin tone represented at the top. But those old white guys are long gone,but the situation is much worse if you're takin' to boxing and wearing color blinds Today,you'll find the American palefaces battling each other in a cage where they belong.


Henry Armstrong

Thinking about what I wrote,it's fair to say that the sport of boxing has descended again to the state it was in during the 50's,even lower.Ali brought life back into it. He was followed by Holmes and later Tyson.There were good American heavyweights fighting each other. In the Southland the activity in the arenas was first rate. The Big 4:Duran,Hagler,Leonard,and Hearns were terrific to watch. But I'm looking at all this from an American perspective. When Tyson finally flopped for the last time,the interest was shifting towards the MMA.If America doesn't dominate the heavyweight division and especially the championship we'll find another pugilistic adventure that we can lay claim to,and it has nothing to do with race. A black heavyweight champion is hunky dory with U.S. fight fans. But there's nothing out there.The well ran dry a long time ago. Deontay Wilder was a mirage. I couldn't tell you who's left on the American menu.

But with this plague of a virus that has turned the world upside down I don't think many are having any panic attacks about who is the heavyweight champion of the world. When it all comes out in the wash it will probably be some guy with a last name of Wu. I think that's part of their plan anyway.

There have been assertions that white boxing fans were not that enthusiastic about watching black fighters in action, hence the decline of professional boxing in the United States as the black fighters became more dominant in the sport. I do not subscribe to such assertions.

It is true that there weren't that many dominant black fighters during the 1920s, which was when professional boxing reached its peak in terms of popularity. The sport had a very tough time of it during the 1930s, a period in which there were more top black fighters than during the 1920s. But there also were plenty of top white fighters during the 1930s. Due to the tough economic times, many boxing fans were not going to see the fights.

Meanwhile, a young black heavyweight named Joe Louis started to draw a huge amount of attention during his first pro bouts in Chicago during 1934. With his dynamic boxing style, Louis quickly became a tremendous gate attraction despite the tough economic times. Yes, the gate figures for a number of Louis's bouts were relatively small. But many of those relatively small gates were for bouts in which Louis was facing ordinary opponents at best. Louis's most important bouts drew huge gates throughout his career.

While fighting in the East during 1937, Henry Armstrong, a highly aggressive fighter with a tremendous work rate, would become one of the biggest gate attractions in boxing and remained one until the end of his career in 1945. In regards not getting another world title shot after losing two world welterweight bouts to Fritzie Zivic, it should be pointed out that Zivic, a notoriously inconsistent fighter, lost the title to Freddie "Red" Cochrane during 1941. After winning the title, Cochrane had a number of non-title fights without making one defense of the title before serving in the U.S. Navy beginning in 1942. During the time that Cochrane was serving in the navy, his title was frozen for the duration of World War II.

- Chuck Johnston

There have been assertions that white boxing fans were not that enthusiastic about watching black fighters in action, hence the decline of professional boxing in the United States as the black fighters became more dominant in the sport. I do not subscribe to such assertions.

It is true that there weren't that many dominant black fighters during the 1920s, which was when professional boxing reached its peak in terms of popularity. The sport had a very tough time of it during the 1930s, a period in which there were more top black fighters than during the 1920s. But there also were plenty of top white fighters during the 1930s. Due to the tough economic times, many boxing fans were not going to see the fights.

Meanwhile, a young black heavyweight named Joe Louis started to draw a huge amount of attention during his first pro bouts in Chicago during 1934. With his dynamic boxing style, Louis quickly became a tremendous gate attraction despite the tough economic times. Yes, the gate figures for a number of Louis's bouts were relatively small. But many of those relatively small gates were for bouts in which Louis was facing ordinary opponents at best. Louis's most important bouts drew huge gates throughout his career.

While fighting in the East during 1937, Henry Armstrong, a highly aggressive fighter with a tremendous work rate, would become one of the biggest gate attractions in boxing and remained one until the end of his career in 1945. In regards not getting another world title shot after losing two world welterweight bouts to Fritzie Zivic, it should be pointed out that Zivic, a notoriously inconsistent fighter, lost the title to Freddie "Red" Cochrane during 1941. After winning the title, Cochrane had a number of non-title fights without making one defense of the title before serving in the U.S. Navy beginning in 1942. During the time that Cochrane was serving in the navy, his title was frozen for the duration of World War II.

- Chuck Johnston
[/quote]

Chuck
My assertions about black fighters(or any other black athletes PRIOR TO WORLD WAR II)who were not embraced by the fans,especially the paying customers who were just about all white, is on target. Just ask any black man ,if any are still around,about how black athletes were treated by the press and the public back then.There were no blacks in Major League Baseball.Golf and tennis blacks were not welcomed. Pro football didn't have any blacks.Blacks began to trickle into basketball in the early 50's.It wasn't until AFTER the War and progressing into the 60's that whites,the baby boomers of those World War II vets like myself) didn't care what color an athlete's skin was. Today,it's hard to believe there was prejudice by white America,and the white public worldwide,that blacks weren't welcome in professional sports. Blacks had their own leagues and played against each other. Just after the War for example the Harlem Rens and the Harlem Globetrotters (all black teams) were the best teams on the planet when it came to playing pro bsasketball.,but they weren't invited to play against NBA teams,except a few exhibition games, and their owners were very tight when it came to giving them decent salaries.

Boxing,being a one on one sport,struggled after the war because prospective white athletes were inclined to try out for baseball,basketball,and football.Kids in the white neighborhoods were finishing high school and trying out for the team. Boxing was "banned" as part of the high school curriculums. The white families who flocked to the suburbs wanted to live that "Ozzie and Harriet" life.Your assessments of the 20's and 30's are correct,but I'm CONTRASTING those decades with the attitudes whites had of blacks PRIOR and AFTER 1945. There was a change a comin'.But one thing remained stable for the time being. Those WWII vets that were raising Ricky Nelson and giving him an allowance DID NOT take to any social revolution.Sports was included in that thinking.

You're right.Titles were frozen during the War,but when it ended the color of the fighters were different. The blacks and Latinos who had stayed or migrated in the cities weren't the Nelsons or the Cleavers.. The kids from those inner city families went to the gym.Most of them didn't finish high school. They had to learn to live by their wits and their fists to survive.Ever hear of the expression that boxing "Is a poor man's out?"Blacks and Latinos fit that economic class.

You're right about Louis drawing huge gates.Gates of white people that wanted to see him LOSE. Today,we don't think about the color of a fighter's skin being a factor.If Joe Louis was such a popular figure back when he was champ then why couldn't he stay in a white hotel,even in New York?And tell me Chuck why did the government pursue Louis with such vengeance about his back taxes?Louis was what every red neck back then wanted negroes to be like(except kicking the crap out of white fighters)keep on your side of the street and don't rock the boat.Be a nice negro,don't be seen with white women,and say "yes sir.".And when his time was over the press ,the IRS,and the promoters that got him fights turned their backs on him. It wasn't until the near end of his life that the old red necks who were in the nursing homes and the documenters of the period acknowledged what a great person he was.Prior to the War they let people lynch blacks unpunished.Congress didn't want to pass any laws against it.Thinking of that today it's incomprehensible.But when Joe Louis was the champ,you can bet there were people who would have gone to his necktie party if the occasion presented itself.Ever hear the story of Emmitt Till?

As far as Armstrong goes,he never got a shot at another title wasn't because of Zivic or Cochrane or non title fights.Having read Armstrong's autobiography(and I didn't have to),he said he didn't get another crack at a title was because the people prior to the War who controlled boxing back east and in New York were satisfied with Louis and Robinson selling seats.There wasn't room for another black champion just before the War.

So when I subscribe to my assertions about what blacks went through trying to be equal with I'm drawing from my observations that in mode back then. When boxing became a sport with mostly fighters of color my father's generation lost interest. They wanted to keep it white just like it was in suburbs living next to Jim and Margaret Anderson.

It's hard to think of Americans being racist,especially today ,even though it's now kind of a reverse racism. To me racism is easily defined.And it applies to ALL the races.

The males of a race didn't want his women cohabitating with a man of a different race.That was the great fear after the Civil War.:that white women would be marrying and having sex with black men. That's the crux of racism. If Joe Louis could knock on a white man's door and ask the father if he could take out his daughter and he said,"Yes" then you'll have the greatest barrier of racism destroyed.

Keeping Clean

Yesterday when I was commenting about Angelo Dundee there's always been the impression that Dundee didn't have anything to do with the unsavory characters that manipulated boxing's strings. Many of those villains were Italian:Carbo,Palermo,Costello,Eddie Coco,Jimmy Plumeri,Felix Bocchichio,Lucky Luciano. Dundee's real name was Angelo Mirena. He trained fighters like Carmen Basilio and Willie Pastrano during the 50's when boxing was run by the Mob.Dundee knew he grew up around those aforementioned Wise Guys. Since Italians always seem to be involved with this hereditary way of living in the underworld, Dundee definitely was acquainted with these future jail birds. But these racketeers needed a trainer ,at least at arms length, to work their fighters.Angelo Dundee was a perfect fit.

Dundee,always when asked about guys like Mr. Gray ,denied that he knew what was going on ,but he knew what was going on.He just stayed with training the fighters as told by the higher ups. Dundee didn't let himself get caught in the deals of fixing fights. That's what boxing was all about in the 40's and 50's:fixing a fight so the Mob could lay that sure fire bet on the underdog and collect big time.While Angelo was training Basilio ,Basilio's management team was the duo of Johnny DeJohn and Joe Netro.Aside from steering Basilio into one fight after another,they liked to play the ponies. All those gangsters liked to go to the track and it wasn't to breathe fresh air. Since the last I heard , horses can't talk,.It was intriguing to know what nags, and their jockeys, were "allowed" to win or lose depending where your money was.The one problem was that the jockeys COULD speak English. Anyway,DeJohn and Netro were what they called "gambling degenerates."They always owed the bookies.

Basilio ,looking back on his boxing career,wondered if his brain trust wasn't sacrificing him at the altar at times.Prior to Basilio winning the title from Tony DeMarco,Carmen got some raw deals.The first fight with Billy Graham,the time around with Kid Gavilan,when he lost his crown to Johnny Saxton,and Carmen's second go with Ray Robinson left Basilio scratching his head.He spoke out loud later that he thought DeJohn and Netro had thrown him under the bus by bribing the officials to call it against him. For instance the ref for the Saxton fight,Frank Gilmer, not letting Carmen fight inside where he could do the most damage. Basilio never liked fighting in Chicago.He was against fighting Robinson in Chicago in the second fight. He knew that burg was the epicenter for The Outfit.So instead of Basilio getting his hand raised at the end,DeJohn and Netro paid off the bookies.Angelo Dundee stayed mum and clean.

In 1968 Luis Rodriguez and Rafael Gutierrez fought a title qualifier at the San Diego Sports Arena.The winner to fight Benvenuti for the works.Out of the blue my father wants to go to the fight.He hadn't been to a fight in years.I had watched Rodriguez train at the Stardust Hotel in Mission Valley.I'd never seen Gutierrez in action,but I thought Rodriguez would handle him without a hitch.

So here's me and my father sitting at ringside taking in the action. Rodriguez,usually a very active guy in the ring,looks like he's going through the motions. Gutierrez is trimming him round after round. Entering the 6th round it's a shutout for the Mexican fighter. Then near the bell for the 6th round "El Feo" unloads a left hook that began somewhere near Bakersfield and they could have counted Gutierrez out with a calendar.Angelo Dundee is putting on Luis's robe and who do I see in the corner is my old man.The three.Dundee,"El Feo",and my old man descend from the ring together with my father having his arm around Angelo's shoulder.
"Well Ange.You got the title shot."
And with that they walked back into the dressing room leaving me with a bag of popcorn.

I figured my father did some odd jobs for The outfit when we were living in San Diego. My father ,taking orders from Sam Giancana, was trying to spread enough Mob money around south of the border to get control of the gambling operations. But that turned out to be a wash.The italia Mafia never had any success getting into the rackets in Mexico.They wanted too much bottom line.My father also was told to tell Tamara Rand,an investor who thought she was being welshed by the Syndicate about buying into the Stardust Hotel in Vegas, not to pursue her lawsuit against Alan Glick. Tony Spilotro,a Mob hitman, arrived in San Diego and sat down with my father. When my father told him that she was going through with her legal action,they found her the next day in her home dead from gunshot wounds.

Fixing fights,gambling licenses,murder-Hollywood loves to glamorize that stuff in the movies.At least Angelo Dundee kept his hands clean.

Carmen Basilio

A Loss Of Appetite

I never saw Junior Robles fight in the ring. I remember him for being a coach for young fighters at the Community Youth Athletic Association in National City.Though his record professionally is 9 wins against 1 loss,he decided that his boxing call was to be a trainer. He started out training to be a fighter at the CYAA Gym located on Main Street and then changed course and began his instruction remaining at the facility. The gym is still in the same spot and in the afternoons provides a place where the kids in the neighborhood can practice the sport. My association with the gym is that it was just down the street from the Club 21 Bar that was also a venue for local boxing cards. I would walk inside the gym and watch the boys break a sweat under the guidance of its principle fight guru,Junior Robles.

As soon as you entered the premises you knew right away that everything going on was serious business. There was no goofing around. All the fighters regardless of their talents and experience were expected to obey Robles' instruction and give it their all. Hanger ons,the curious,and anyone that was suspect of living a life that was detrimental to the boxing work ethic was told not to come around. I remember the first time I made an appearance. Heads turned when they espied my image. I felt right away I better have a good reason why I was visiting. I told one of the trainers that I was fighting up the street at the Club 21 and I thought I'd drop by to take in the local fighting ambiance. I don't know if that rational impressed or was believed,but I wasn't shown the door.

The guy that you knew was in charge ,and also felt his immediate presence, was Junior Robles. He had those Indian looks:the copper tone skin,the Indian nose with the high check bones,the glossy black hair hanging straight down to his shoulders.He still looked to be at his fighting weight at somewhere in the vicinity of 150 pounds. He'd stand erect with his arms behind his back staring intently at what the fighters were executing in the ring. Sometimes he'd shout a stern command to a fighter and instantly he'd try to adjust. You could feel the camaraderie,though it wasn't shammed by a lot of false bravado. Robles was THEE MAN and it was understood as that.

Junior Robles was probably the trainer most requested by fathers that wanted to get the best out of their sons when they attempted to explore the manly art. After awhile I felt at ease at Robles' gym. I have to say that the quality of amateur fighters at his gym was ahead of what Archie Moore had to offer at The Any Boys Can Club in Southeast San Diego.

One day while I was watching Robles putting the kids through their paces I heard talk that he had assembled a stable of amateur fighters that was going to Europe to compete against the finest of what the Continent had to offer. Included in Robles' entourage was a very hot prospect,Byron Lindsay and the brother of welterweight champ Carlos Palomino,Paul Palomino. I was vey happy to hear that Robles' efforts were beginning to be recognized.


I think that Robles' had two things in mind. One:he wanted to break any bad stereotypes that the public may have had about Mexicans.Two:he wanted to instill pride with his fighters that they weren't just a bunch of thugs,but that they carried themselves with dignity when they were in public. I admired him for what he was trying to do.Any "cholo" that wandered in off the street causing a distraction would be approached by Robles to see if the instigator wanted to try getting into the ring and channel his misguided behavior into something that he could take some pride in.



It was in the late 70's when I'd drop into the gym and watch the kids bear down trying to satisfy what their trainer and friend ,Junior Robles, was wanting to instill on them. Boxing in San Diego was going pretty strong at that time,but on an amateur level Robles' gym was the mainstay for the beginner. Robles was close to Archie Moore who had his gym in Southeast San Diego,The Any Boy Can Club.Like Moore,Robles also emphasized the moral responsibilities that were conducive to becoming a successful fighter, and more importantly, to be simply a better person. Robles being a role model for his charges, also wanted his fighters to walk out into the neighborhood setting the right examples.In a nutshell,Junior Robles had the respect of everyone,something that he never petitioned for.

I began following Robles' all stars that were ready to embark across the sea to fight in Europe.Some of those boys like Lindsay and Palomino could have beaten most of the pros in San Diego at their body weights.One afternoon I was with a friend visiting the Club 21 just to kill some time.There is a locally owned ice cream parlor near by called Niederfranks.It was tucked away on one of the side streets and they make the best homemade ice cream I've ever tasted.I didn't have a tough time convincing my friend that I'd spring for a couple of double scooped cones.I parked the car in front and as I was walking to the door I saw a newspaper article that was taped on the front window. The headline stopped me in my tracks.

"Olympic Boxing Hopefuls Killed In Air Crash In Poland,Local Trainer Junior Robles One Of The Victims"

My head started spimming. I read the rest of the article but it became a blur. I just stood there. My friend prodded me to go inside.
"You know what?"I said."I don't feel like having any ice cream.If you want some go ahead."
My friend gave me a funny look and then proceeded inside.I stayed outside for a few moments,then entered.
"Are you going to have the usual?"asked Mr. Neiderfrank."The cherry malt."
"You know I just ate a big lunch.I don't have much of an appetite,"I answered.
My friend,holding his double scoop ice cream cone,turned and looked me up and down.
"I thought you said that you didn't eat lunch today."
"Well.I just ain't hungry that's all. I don't feel good. It must have been something I ate."
My friend shrugged his shoulders and began devouring his ice cream cone like nothing had happened.


The Community Youth Athletic Association Gym today. You can still feel Junior Robles' presence

In Memoriam

I would have never been rejuvenated about boxing if a friend of mine,another teacher at the site I was working at,hadn't told me that I should look into what was going on at BoxRec.What got me hooked was the forum,especially the "Boxing History" category.I was bouncing around from thread to thread when a former fighter from Chicago and now head of security for the Chicago Black Hockey team,Brian Higgins, posted a story about Indian Red Lopez. Me and a bunch of others jumped in with responses.Eventually,the thread took off in many directions. Most of the posts concerned boxing history in the Southland. However,as we became associated with each other,we opened up our views about cars,motorcycles, music,race,the history of the Southland and anything else that crossed our minds. I would say there was a stable group of posters:Brian Higgins,Rick Farris,Frank Baltazar,Randy De La O,Dan Hanley,myself and several others. We were having the times of our lives.

I started going up to Los Angeles to attend the various boxing ceremonies.The big two organizations were the World Boxing Hall Of Fame(now defunct)and the California Boxing Hall Of Fame. It was a revelation to me to see how many of the current and ex fighters attending these events lived in LA.

At the time Rick Farris was the workhorse for former matchmaker Don Fraser's CBHOF.Rick would assemble inductees,advertising,promotions,the souvenir magazine,and anything that posed a problem to get the event off the ground. Can't say enough about Rick. He worked his tail off.

The CBHOF always wanted some representation from San Diego to bestow an honor or two.One day I was corresponding with Frank Baltazar and he asked me if I remembered Junior Robles.I told him back in the 70's I would from time to time drop in to Junior's Gym in National City to watch the kids train. Then Frank asked me if it would be possible to approach anyone about getting Junior Robles,who had died in that tragic plane crash along with all his Olympic hopefuls,into being inducted into the CBHOF.I replied that the gym was still operating and I'd see what I could do.

It had been almost 30 years since I had made an appearance at the gym. One afternoon in January I went back to pay a visit. When I walked in I got some hard looks and no one seemed like they wanted to make my stay a pleasant one. I saw an old guy that was coaching two fighters in the ring who looked like he might be in charge of something and decided maybe he could assist me.He saw me coming but acted like I was going to give him the flu.
"Excuse me,"I said meekly."Do you have contact with any of Junior Robles' family?I represent the California Boxing Hall Of Fame and they would like to induct him into their institution."
I thought that overture would make this guy more amiable but all he did was give me the evil eye.
"I have a phone number of how to contact Don Fraser who runs the organization.I'll give it to you."
The old guy took the slip of paper and put it in his shirt pocket. He never said a word to me.I thanked him for his time and walked out the door. I didn't feel like sticking around. The atmosphere was ice cold and I wasn't wearing a jacket.

About a couple of months later Rick Farris gave me a call and said that Junior Robles and two of the fighters who also died in that crash in Warsaw.Byron Lindsay and Paul Palomino, were going to be honored. .When it came time of the ceremony to recognize the three with their trophies,family members stepped up to the podium to accept the tributes.

Junior Robles' mother,looking very matronly wearing a print dress, accepted the award with one of her daughters by her side. Senora Robles,speaking in broken English,broke our hearts about the dedication her son had with teaching the barrio kids how to fight and be good citizens.Her emotions almost made her daughter step up and finish the speech,but Senora Robles carried on without breaking down.We knew Junior got his mettle.

Byron Lindsay's family followed.His mother ,surrounded by siblings, were estatic.Mrs. Lindsay couldn't get over how the boxing community held such love and esteem for her son.It was a celebration they'd never forget.

Last to accept the homage was former welterweight champ Carlos Palomino.He said their isn't a day that goes by that the Palominos don't think about their Paul. Carlos believed that his brother had as much talent as anybody and he had so much to show the world,but that we never know what's in God's plans.

it was all so moving.Emotional. But to see the families of the three fighters so happy and appreciative, whatever sadness prevailed it was all evaporated by such a beautiful gesture. :salut





The page from the California Boxing Hall Of Fame souvenir program commemorating Junior Robles,Paul Palomino,and Byron Lindsay.2010

Never Give A Boxing Fan An Even Break

Deontay Wilder gets the holy crap beat out of him by Tyson Fury and then blames the loss on his Darth Vader trick or treat costume he wore into the ring was too heavy and sapped his strength before the fight.So the next logical step in his mind is too rant about Mike Tyson being an overrated fighter because he never beat a "legitimate" Hall Of Famer. Larry Holmes,according to Deontay,was past his prime when Tyson had him frantically grasping for a life preserver in Atlantic City.And Mike Spinks was a light heavyweight who moved up to beat an undefeated Holmes twice to win the heavyweight championship.He was the first to accomplish that. I guess that disqualifies the worth of that effort.(was Larry in his prime then?).But then what Hall Of Fame fighters has Deontay beaten?

Deontay is sore because some bare knuckle association says they want to pay the 52 year old Mike Tyson 20 million dollars to sand paper his knuckles and fight someone yet determined. Mike says he's ready to go. He wants to start training again and be like his old self and turn the boxing world on its ear.Mike hasn't fought in 15 years but that doesn't matter to him. He'll be ready.Just give him the 20 million and he'll prove that he is as good as he was when he beat all those phony Hall Of Famers Deontay is referring to.

I think Deontay is just jealous is all. He wants 20 million dollars. I want 20 million dollars.Everybody wants 20 million dollars.The question is"How can anyone take all this seriously?" But that's what the world has morphed into-buying into all the hype that the hucksters with their media friends spew out to John Q. Public. And they know that John Q. Public was a frequent customer of Texas Guinan's speakeasy where she'd tell the suckers to leave their wallets on the bar. Oh,if they ink the contract they'll be hyping about this one.

"Iron Mike is back and he's as good as ever."
"Iron Mike is in the best shape of his life."
"52 is just a number.You're only as old as you feel."

Then when it's over it will seem like a wet dream.

This scheme will unfold because boxing is on a ventilator. The number of top class fighters has dwindled down to a handful on a hand that went through a bandsaw that lopped off a finger or two.But these bare knuckle knucklehead promoters know Tyson can still draw interest and a crowd despite the fact that he hasn't fought in 15 years and is 52 years old. If they put Tyson back into the ring in a boxing match against any run of the mill heavyweight he'd get killed and take his 20 million and run to the nearest IRS office.So they'll match him in a bare knuckle fight.Next they'll be talking about paroling Ike Ibeabuchi and getting him back into the ring with or without gloves. And what was that thread about television closing down arenas and hurting the sport?

BTW.George Foreman is still alive.Anyone out there got 20 million dollars to put up?Texas Guinan's speakeasy is always looking for suckers to leave their wallets on the bar.

Larry Holmes

Looking Back On It Now

The big war froze the titles so when it was over it was back to business again. Joe Louis had defended his crown twice within a couple of months in early 1942 against Buddy Baer and Abe Simon but that was because he wanted to donate his purses to a couple of military charities for purposes of boosting morale. Shortly after the Baer fight Louis enlisted in the Army and told the crowd at a rally at Madison Square Garden that the U.S. would win the war because "we're on God's side."He was coached to say that we'd win because "God is on our side",but Joe's heart was always ahead of what the proper pundits had in mind so he disobeyed the order. His one liner probably did more for bridging the gap of racial inequality than anything Martin Luther King would come up with decades later.

So after Hirohito decided that surrendering Japan was more honorable than having his people vaporized by more A bombs he threw in the towel.Now it was time to get back to fighting,but this time with gloves.All eyes were on the heavyweights as usual. The no brainer fight was Louis and Conn returning for another go. As Ed Sullivan would say "It was a really beeg show."

At the weigh in prior to the fight Conn had added 8 pounds since the previous bout. Louis was to say later that when he saw Conn mount the scale with that extra 8 pounds he would not only be unable to hide, he wouldn't have enough gas to run.The fight was a huge draw,but a dismal disappointment. So what as next on the agenda?

The public still wanted to seek a worthy white opponent to fight Louis(like the norm of his previous 23 defenses excluding the hand out he gave to his friend the nearly blind John Henry Lewis).The summons went out to Tami Mauriello whose claim to fame was stopping the unbeaten Brit Bruce Woodcock who had flown across the pond to make his American debut at The Garden.Louis said that the Maurielo fight in 1946 was the last time he felt his old self. Tami popped Joe a good one in the opening minute of round 1 that buckled his knees,but then Joe regained his composure and had Tami kneeling against the ropes as Arthur Donovan counted 10.

By this time the heavyweight division looked like it had been cleaned out by Louis.But there were forebodings on the horizon.Louis's next opponent was a fighter who was older than he was-Jersey joe Walcott. He was managed by Felix Bocchicchio who was connected with Carbo and Blinky and that had something to do with Walcott getting the opportunity,but with that said Walcott was also a good fighter. Their fight in the Garden was the first time that Joe Louis heard the crowd turn on him. After Walcott knocked Louis to the canvas once in the 1st round and again in the 4th it was Louis who got his hand raised after 15 rounds.Joe looked like he wasn't his old self anymore. There was a rematch. Louis caught Walcott with a flurry of blows in the 11th round and it was a done deal. Up to that time Walcott(who had floored Louis in the 3rd) was ahead on the cards. Joe Louis was on the downside.

After getting off the hook with Walcott, Louis decided to retire in 1949.But Joe Louis the great champion was in hock with the IRS and that institution wouldn't give him a pass. In the meantime Walcott and Ezzard Charles fought for the vacant championship,the first time two black fighters were together fighting for the honor since Louis had fought Lewis.But this was different. When The Brown Bomber fought John Henry it was in the area of a non title fight. Very little interst. But this match between Charles and Walcott was going to break the standard of black against white. Even though the attention to it was negligible.

Charles was still very sharp at that time. Though he had the Sam Baroudi fight still on his mind he was the best heavyweight on the planet though maybe he had turned it down a notch. Charles beat Walcott going away. But the fanfare couldn't be heard.Charles wasn't Louis ,and now with Joe getting punched around by Uncle Sam he decided to find his boxing gloves again. Now it was only for the money.

It's interesting to note that Joe Louis was never the betting underdog in any of his fights.Even when Marciano sent him through the ropes Joe was the favorite.Louis fought Charles for the championship weighing 218 pounds(his heaviest ever) and showing a solar plate on the top of his head. Joe wound up bloody and battered. It was one of those fights that shouldn't have been made.

With Louis out of the way,The public was still on that quest to find a White Hope. Gus Lesnevich,Freddie Beshore, and Pat Valentino came up croppers against Charles. Post Louis,Nick Barone and Lee Oma couldn't bring home the bacon so it was back to fighting Walcott again. The public was beginning to lose interest.

Joe Walcott and Ezzard Charles fought each other 4 times for the heavyweight championship.Except for Walcott finally catching up to Charles in Pittsburgh knocking Charles into Philadelphia with one of the most devastating left hooks in their four piece performance.Otherwise the rest of the rounds were pedestrian. Not much is ever discussed about that series.If you scan the forum for instance those fights don't get much print.

When the undefeated Rocky Marciano was being carefully brought along by Al Weill the boxing public was moving towards the edges of their seats again. Rocky had the world behind him,with the exception of Harlem, when he challenged Walcott in Philly. But Walcott was confident,like many that fought Marciano,that he could easily outbox the crude Italian. But Rocky's "Suzy Q" found the mark during the hard luck round and got things back to the proper order.The public could take Joe Louis because he was so sensational,but now they had a sensational fighter who could stay in any hotel in Manhattan.It was too bad on his way to the crown he had beaten Joe Louis.


Rocky Marciano

Fat Again

Blacks use an expression "Fat Again" when things are going their way after a stretch of bad luck. When I heard of the passing of Curtis Cokes I thought of that expression because he had a bit part in that movie "Fat City" playing the boyfriend of Susan Tyrell.It was a damn good movie,maybe even a better boxing flick than "Raging Bull." Though Cokes had only a few lines he came across legit,the streetwise but the down and out product of society's lower end.He handled himself damn well like he did when he was fighting.

I read where the posters on the forum had responded about Cokes as being "underrated."I think that's the first thing that comes to mind when we think of Curtis Cokes.Maybe that was because he never had a solid base established back east with the New York erudite fans and scribes.The only time Cokes showed his face in Madison Square Garden was when he lost big to Gypsy Joe Harris. They didn't want him back after that.Other than that one time appearance the farthest venue east of the Mississippi where he ever laced up his gloves was in Rome-not the one in Alabama or Georgia,but the real Rome in Italy. Well,that overshot the Atlantic coastline by several thousand miles.Cokes had most of his fun in arenas circa where he was born and raised-the Southwest of the good ol' USA.

Cokes' pro debut was against Manny Gonzalez who turned out to be a pretty fair fighter himself.Gonzalez' record shows that he beat Denny Moyer and Emile Griffith when those two were still in top form. However,Cokes had Gonzalez' number in three out of four fights and beat maybe the best welterweight around,Luis Rodriguez, twice in three ties,one a stoppage for the eliminator for the vacant welterweight title in New Orleans.He won the championship against his old adversary Gonzalez and then went on winning 15 out of 16(the only loss was the one against Harris)before George Parnassus brought Jose Napoles out of the doldrums to fight Cokes for the title in LA. Up to that time Napoles was being ducked like he had Covid-19 by belt wearers like Ismael Laguna and Carlos Ortiz and that paisan with that funny Italian name-Lopopolo. Jose was thinking of giving up fighting and pursue a life of wine,women,and song.(which he did much later after winning the crown)

Bud Furillo,in my my mind the best sports writer in LA who pounded the keyboard for the Los Angeles Herald Examiner,proclaimed that Napoles would wipe the canvas with Cokes like a spilt bottle of the soft drink. I had seen Napoles fight on Mexican TV and once in person in Tijuana's bullring against a journeyman by the name of Herbie Lee. Jose was still around 138 pounds when he was building himself up in the rankings.As you all know by now I was a Napoles guy but I was a little apprehensive about Jose fighting north of the border for all the stakes.

Yet Napoles was sure of himself. The only thing he prayed for was that Cokes would not get run over by a bus and make it to the Forum on time. The fight wasn't close. Cokes couldn't answer the bell for the 14th round.His eyes looked like ground round. There was a rematch this time in Mexico City and the result was deja vu. Bud Furillo saw it plain as day and he was right-Napoles enjoyed his tacos washing them down with plenty of Coke(s).

After Jose had polished of Curtis,he told the press that (sic) "Jose Napoles is a better fighter than me."He then packed on 15 pounds and tried his hand with the middleweights.He was up and down fighting unknowns in Africa and in other arenas that have probably been torn down by now.

But Curtis Cokes left his mark.Too bad the indentation couldn't have been a bit deeper.He'd be Fat Again.


Curtis Cokes at the age of 80.

Getting Laid And A Lot More

When Rodolfo Gonzalez told me ,at a nice Mexican restaurant near the Oceanside harbor, that after winning the championship from Chango Carmona he bought a bar in the Coahuila,the red light district in Tijuana, I didn't want to follow up with too many questions. That's because Rodolfo's soulmate Barbara was sitting beside him and I don't think she would have wanted to hear any sordid little anecdotes about what went on inside Gato's den of iniquity. He mentioned the bar with a twinkle in his eye and then glanced at Barb.She was immersed in her enchiladas and I don't think the mention of the bar had any affect on her. Maybe when me and Gato are off to the side he'll tell me about something we can laugh about.

Fighters for the most part are what they call "Type 'A' Personalities".That means that besides fighting,which never induces a panic attack,they also like to f--k a lot. Bars and boxers are kind of joined at the hip. When a fighter is training he'll try to abstain from those saloons where unaccompanied women are not only welcomed,but make their living hustling drinks and peddling their hips on the side to pick up a few pesos.

I think I said last week that prostitution is legal in Mexico,but only in regulated areas.The Coahuila is located near the U.S. border separated by a fence. It runs along a three block long section on two streets-Coahuila Street and 1st Street.Gato didn't have enough breath to tell me where his bar was,but it's like if you've seen one you've seen them all.

I used the words "regulated areas." Those areas in Tijuana are in the Coahuila whereas before ,maybe 40 years ago, a guy could get laid in a few of the cantinas that were still operating on Revolution Street.When I was going to high school there were as many whorehouses on Revolution Street as in the Coahuila.The big difference was it was an unwritten rule that the whorehouses on Revolution Street were for the gringos and the whorehouses in the Coahuila serviced the Mexicans. Speaking of "service".The military bases in San Diego ,the Naval Training Center and the Marine Corps Recruit Depot,strictly enforced Tijuana as being Off Limits to those boys who were experiencing their first difficult days learning to be U.S. fighting men.

Unlike in the United States,Mexico doesn't permit bars to exist in their suburbs called "colonias". I think that's a good idea.If a man wants to go to a bar and carry on, he wants to go somewhere away from where he lives. He doesn't want to have his wife and kids and the neighbors see him going to a place pushing open swinging doors and filled with brown skinned whores.

I sure got familiar with he Coahuila. There was nothing like that in San Diego. Besides the drinking age down there was 18.The kids on the U.S. side don't go to TJ much anymore. The white kids don't have any urge. The Chicano kids living in the South Bay cross mostly on the weekends,but they go to mostly dance clubs that are on Revolution Street and the swank touristy bistros in the Zona Rio.

Back when I was going to high school only the "fast" girls in San Diego would want to go to Tijuana and the main reason was to go the dance clubs. In the early 60's Carlos Santana had a rock n' roll band that played at the Convoy Club on Revolution Street that was located next to The Hotel Nelson.The Coahuila was for the Mexican men though Mexican male teens didn't go to the Coahuila. That's when the Mexican parents still had control of their kids.Their little sonny boys were still on a short leash. As far as Mexican girls wanting to go downtown to a bar- FORGET IT. A sweet little virgin heartbreaker would be banished from the family if her parents found out that she wandered inside a bar and drank a beer. As far as the whores in the Coahuila, they wanted nothing to do with the gringo teens. They said the American boys got to drunk.were not gentle In love making,and got their rocks off too fast.

But as I grew older I liked the Coahuila. The bars on Revolution Street gave way to more civilized enterprises like finer eating establishments and trendy gift shops,but they still left the stripe painted donkeys on the corner to have your picture taken with.

I bet Rodolfo's bar was a lot of fun.They all were.The cops ran everything.The girls had to cut the cops in on what they took in. They had to carry a health card on them to show that they didn't have "the clap."It was(and still is) a pretty safe place to go. The cops and narcos that own and control everything have a big investment there and are making gobs of money and they don't want any problems.I'm tellin' ya',there's no thought of roughing up one of those girls or she'd have the cops there and they'd beat the s--t out of you without batting an eye.

Aside from all the girls and the drinking,one of the things I got out of going to the Coahuila was learning the music of Mexico. Not the music the Mexican kids listen to today.That's more like what the U.S. kids and the rest of the world shake their hips to-that ghetto rap crap. No, those girls that worked the cantinas in the Coahuila exposed me to somthing that is still a part of Mexican culture.The music of the epoca de oro,their golden age.Singers like Pedro Infante and Javier Solis. Groups like Trio De Los Panchos and Mariachi Vargas.Songwriters like Agustin Lara and Jose Alfredo Jimenez. The music is very beautiful and sad sometimes,sometimes energized with passion.Mexican music is something very ingrained and treasured not only in Mexico,but with aficianados of song throughout Latin America and the world..Frank Sinatra was very fond of Mexican music,. When Pedro Infante died in that plane crash Sinatra was at his funeral. Infante is one of the Tres Immortales:him,Jorge Negrete and Javier Solis.

Every time I get together with Gato we not only share our memories of boxng,mostly Mexican boxing,but we recall the time when Mexico still had a precious spot in their hearts for their culture.Today,it's bastardizing itself into the grotesque and ugly.The color ,shape,and form is being hammered out of it.

I remember the girls in those clubs like the Monaco,The Molino Rojo,and the Adelita.Bars with the low ceilings,filled with wafting cigarette smoke, and sawdust on the floors. A tight little brown thing wearing a mini falda sliding next me and rubbing the inside of my thigh.
"You by me a drink?"
Before I could answer the waiter arrived at the table carrying a tray with a glass of orange juice for her and a tepid beer for me.
"You have a peseta for the jukebox too?"
Sure."
"What you want me to play baby?"
"Honey.You pick one out.I'm still learning."


A frequent request of the Coahuila,"Amor Perdido"-Maria Luis Landin. HEY GATO I GOT TO TALK TO YOU


The old Convoy Club where Carlos Santana played with his Rock N' Roll band back in the early 60's.I think today if you go inside it's nothing but a bunch of transgender chicks that pick your pocket while they're rubbing you leg.If you're dumb enough(or maybe that's what you want to do)to go with them to the "room" make sure you bring plenty of toilet paper to wipe the crap off your shlong.

The Comedian

Today,unless you live in a cave it's hard to not have any of what is transpiring this country not give you some food for thought.Three months ago the president was drawing fire because he hadn't released his tax returns. I'd say that that tax return issue was maybe fodder for what they say in the media parlance as a story for a "slow news day."Now, a rogue virus with no vaccine yet on hand,a shattered economy,and in the last week civil protests marred by violence have rendered us at sea looking for a life preserver. That's a three spot calamity that is unprecedented.

Whatever side you take with these protests are apropos on the "Off Topic" category of the forum. But wanting to tie these feelings about race into a boxing topic makes me go back some twenty years ago when I watched a skit on HBO by the African /American comedian Chris Rock. He went to various boxing gyms in LA and asked the black fighters if ,when knowing their opponent was a white guy,they thought that maybe their enemy in the ring might have had some distant relative that was a slave owner. If that thought crossed their minds, did it stimulate any motivation?Rock,with tongue in cheek when asking, received a 100 percent response from the black fighters that they did indeed use that idea for motivational purposes.

On the other hand I wonder if the white fighters thought that their black opponents went into battle with any visions of slavery as a driving force. It didn't surprise me that the black fighters thought that way. I know if I was black I'd be thinking that. Maybe for the moment I'd work myself into an inner rage,but knowing later regardless of the outcome, that when the final bell rang we'd be embracing each other like brothers.

When Rock did his skit it elicited a lot of yucks from the audience. I nodded and said to myself "that idea was in the back of my mind but I never gave it much thought."With the sensitivity about racism leaving no room for levity as I type away on the keyboard...well,I thought I'd give it a shot. But I had to draw on the Chris Rock reference that occurred before the turn of the century as an anecdote. "Race" is a topic that needs to be handled with kid gloves today. If discussed, it's mood is somber,serious,,and often no one wants to say what they really think.

This morning I impulsively caught a glimpse of the news. I watched an interview with the billionaire black founder of Black Entertainment Television,Robert Johnson.He's proposing a 14 trillion dollar reparation settlement to 40 million dollars to blacks who are ancestors from slaves prior to the Civil War.That boils down to over 300 thousand dollars to each recipient. I thought that was pretty funny.


My wife,Maria, and Jeri De La O,at one of the boxing conventions in LA.That brings a smile

What We're Here For

Me and the wife spent our honeymoon in a little resort just south of Ensenada called Estero Beach. The facility was located near a cay.It was nothing very fancy- modest adobe cabanas,a restaurant featuring the local catch of the day,a narrow strip of beach.The view was very open, the aura calm with the sound of the ocean, the heavy salt air providing a sleepy ambience.There were only a few guests at resort. It was the off season,The evening air brought with it a mild chill that precipitated a mood to retire early.If you wanted to find the night life you had to get in your car and drive into Ensenada.One eveniing we ventured into town but really didn't want to increase our pace so we didn't stop anywhere to kick up our heels. Besides,we didn't have a lot of money.

I drove around town for a little and then decided to head back to the hotel. By chance I saw a large structure that at first I thought was a church. But the sign on the lawn in front read The Riviera Cultural Center.On an impulse I pulled over. I thought in lieu of spending a lot of money that I didn't have on a big dinner and rounds of drinks, that maybe there was something aesthetic inside that we could savor without draining my wallet. The sun was slowly dipping behind the ocean the setting smeared with pinks,whites, and soft grays.We got out of the car and a brisk a gust blew against our backs giving a bounce to our step.Entering the front, the hall expended wide with the amber light from the sunset providing a mellow glow. There was a clerk standing behind a big mohagony desk counter .As we walked on the tile floor he looked up from reading a magazine and smiled.
"We close in twenty minutes,"he said.
He was wearing a white collared shirt open at the front covering his slight frame.He wore thick round glasses that made his eyes appear bigger than they were.An oblong face and ashy skin with brown wavy hair combed back on his head didn't produce any presence that took you aback. When he spoke his voice was matter of fact and placating.
"That's OK,"I said. "My wife and I are on our honeymoon. I just saw the sign out front while driving and was curious."
My wife was standing to the side behind me. She was going along with everything waiting to see what was next.
"Feel comfortable,"said the clerk.
"Is there an admission?"I asked.
"There is but since we close in 20 minutes you can go in for free."
"Thank you,"I said as the clerk reopened his magazine.

I meandered around the hall and then saw an old picture in a frame that was hanging on a wall .Underneath the picture was a table with books with frayed covers opened and old newspaper articles incased in glass. I was about to pass it all by but then saw that the black and white picture was of Jack Dempsey dressed in a suit of clothes.I stopped and took in everything in front of me. I began by reading the newspaper articles. It turned out that the building was once a hotel and casino owned by Jack Dempsey. The name was Hotel Playa Ensenada.Dempsey opened the facility in 1930 when Ensenada was a playground for the rich and famous in the United States.His opening act was about as a big a star there was in the universe,BingCrosby. Other celebrities like Xavier Cugat and his band that was taking the music scene by storm with the mambo,Rita Cansino(later Hayworth)and her father enrapting audiences with their dazzling dancing routines ,and later Latin stars like the internationally famous comedian Cantinflas, and Perez Prado and his Cuban orchestra entertained the high rollers from across the border. Of course the big draw was the casino where gambling was illegal and there was plenty of non bathtub booze that was all very legal.

It was rumored that Al Capone had a piece of the casino.All the investors lived stateside. It was all swank,classy,and big time.However,when the new president of Mexico,Lazaro Cardenas, took over he shut down gambling in the casinos in Mexico. The new law also put the kibosh on the action in Tijuana closing the doors of nightclubs like the Aguas Caliente Casino,the Foreign Club,and the Capri Bar. After the closing, the Mexican military used the building as an army base. By the 1960's the villa was abandoned,in decay, and was lived in by squatters.

There were plans of tearing down the place in the early 70's,but then the Mexican government interceded and restructured the building into a national cultural center.Me and the wife walked around the rest of the museum a bit. There were the typical artifacts on display;remnants mostly from the ancient Indian populations of Mexico. We glanced around for a short spell and then decided to go back to our hotel. I stopped at the counter where the clerk was still engrossed in his magazine.
"I didn't know that Jack Dempsey once owned this place,"I said.
The clerk straightened his glasses and focused on me.
"Jack who?"he asked squinting his eyes.
"Jack Dempsey the fighter.The heavyweight champion of the world."
"Oh.I think there's something about him on that table beside the wall over there,"he said pointing.
"I know.I just got finished reading about it. It's very interesting history."
"Well,that's what we're here for. I'm glad you enjoyed it.I hope you and your wife have a nice honeymoon."


Jack Dempsey


Jack Dempsey's joint back in the day.

Bordertown

By the time Jack Johnson had lost his championship to Jess Willard,Lil' Arthur was still on the lam from the federal government for violating the Mann Act. He was desperately trying to reenter the United States so he could see his ailing mother and settle his debt to society for his crime. He eventually lost the crown lost to Willard at Havana's Oriental Park Racetrack under a broiling sun in the 26th round. There's that famous picture of Johnson lying on his back with his glove shading his face from the sun as referee Jack Welsh is counting him out. Johnson,a master of the tall tale ,later sold his rendition of the event to Ring Magazine that he threw the fight as part of a deal to get the justice department to drop the Mann Act charge so he could come back home. Willard said if that was the case he wished that Johnson wouldn't have waited round for 26 rounds. "It was hotter than hell out there,"said the big Kansan.

Of course Johnson countered with the yarn that he didn't get the confirmation of the bargain until his wife flashed him a sign after the end of the 25th round.Well,if there was deal or not the state department still had Jack on their wanted posters.

An interesting sidelight prior to the fight with Willard. At the time around 1915 there were many boxing entrepreneurs that wanted to stake the fight.Johnson wanted the fight to held in Mexico so afterwards he could easily cross the border and make things right again.However,there was a little problem-Mexico was in the midst of a revolution.Pancho Villa,the most colorful figure of the revolution,was beginning a decline from power because for the first time during in his militaristic career he was losing battles. Venustiano Carranza,who was vying for ultimate power,was utilizing his best general,Alvaro Obregon to annihilate Villa's army in consecutive battles at Celaya,Leon,and finally the crushing defeat at Agua Prieta that was just south of Douglas ,Arizona. President Wilson had reluctantly recognized Carranza as the legitimate leader of Mexico and allowed Obregon's troops to use the American railway at Eagle Pass ,Texas to transport his army on the U.S. side across to Arizona so that his men could get behind Villa's army at Agua Prieta. Villa's army was decimated. But Pancho still had a following in his neck of the woods, the state of Chihuahua.It was there that Villa threw his bullet holed sombrero into the ring to make a bid on the Willard fight with Johnson.Villa offered to put up 100 thousand dollars worth of gold to promote the bout. But Villa,outside of Chihuahua, was persona non grata not only in the rest of Mexico,but also in the good ol' USA.Villa wanted the fight in the bordertown of Juarez that was just across the line from El Paso.But could you imagine in the middle of the fight the federales attack Villa's men and bullets start flying around in the ring?

So the wealthy gringo businessman Sunny Jim Coffroth drew his money out of the bank and the fight was held in Cuba instead. But before long Jack Johnson found his way to the land once ruled by the Aztecs. After bouncing around Spain for a year Johnson made Chihuahua his stomping grounds. He was getting fatter and his hopes of seeing his ailing mother were getting slimmer. He fought some fights against some relatively unknown Americans in Juarez and Tijuana before finally giving himself up to the U.S. authorities in San Diego. He went to Leavenworth to do his time and put on some lively exhibitions to entertain the prison population.

The story has it that before surrendering to the U.S. police in San Diego that Johnson was continuing living the good life in Mexico. Johnson claimed that he spoke fluently five of six languages(including Spanish),that he was an expert on nutrition,a connoisseur of fine food and wine,a competitive participant with his fighting roosters at the palenque,and even could swing the muleta with the best of them in the bullring.He played various instruments,could sing baritone in any opera,and wore the finest tailored suits usually with a pretty senorita hanging onto his arm.

The story also has it that Johnson was the proprietor of a restaurant/bar in Tijuana that was a busy watering hole for the rich and famous on both sides of the border.I always had wondered if Johnson's edifice had survived the test of time.

When I was working at the elite private school CETYs in Tijuana coaching American football,I got the urge to find out if there were any records,documents,newspaper articles, or pictures of Johnson's café. Let me start by saying that in Tijuana researching its history is somewhat of a challenge. First of all,Tijuana is a comparatively "new" city in Mexico. Though Cortez conquered the land in the 1500's,Tijuana wasn't on the map until the very late 19th century. There isn't a lot of historical significance to the city like Mexico City,Puebla,Leon,Monterrey,Tampico,Vera Cruz,or Juarez.Mexico's two revolutions never had any battles in Tijuana. In fact during the second one that began in 1910 Tijuana was practically oblivious to what was going on in the rest of the country.But with that said I wasn't going to be deterred about finding out something on Jack Johnson's whereabouts in Tijuana.So I thought I'd start my quest inside CETYs library.

CETYs is a combination prep school and university. It is the only institution in Tijuana where the credits are accepted and transferrable to the California state universities.Libraries are a rarity in Tijuana. I only know of one public library in Tijuana. It is a small building located in Parque Guerrero just west of downtown TJ. It resembles a library you might see at a middle school in San Diego.the books even of less quality and quantity.A public library is like having a drive in movie in Tijuana. With the library what do you think the percentage of books that would be returned?With the drive in movie how many of the speakers would be missing after the double feature? The library at CETYs was about as good as it gets in TJ.So in I went.
"Excuse me,"I said to clerk behind the desk,"But do you have any information regarding Jack Johnson the heavyweight champion who use to live I Tijuana around 1920?"
"Aren't you the football coach?"he asked.
He was a young kid.I think he was a student. Very amiable. I'd seen him around.Nothing stood out either physically or with his persona. They said his father owned a couple of car dealerships in the city.
"Yes,"I responded.
"I saw the game CETYs played in San Diego against Marian Catholic School.My brother played for Marian. I'm glad you beat them."
"Can you give me any information about Jack Johnson?"I restated my query.
"Who was Jack Johnson?"asked the kid.
"He was the first black heavyweight champion of the world.They say he owned a restaurant in Tijuana. I'm trying to gather information."
"Let me ask the head librarian.I'll have him come to talk to you."
The kid approached a thin gentleman dressed in a brown three piece tweed suit nicely tailored,bow tie, and wearing spectacles who was thumbing through a file cabinet. The man came over to the desk with the kid walking behind him.
"I'm sorry but we don't have anything about the gentleman you are inquiring about."he said in a nasal voice.
"You'd think there would be something about Jack Johnson in this town."
"Who did you say he was?"
"I didn't. His name was Jack Johnson the first black heavyweight champion of the world."
He squinted at me an put his hand to his chin.
"Aren't you the American who coaches the football team?"


Jack Johnson

Taking A Little Off The Top

Just off the top of my head:before I let go of Jack Johnson I want to say that he took a lot of heat regarding his autobiography he wrote in 1927. He was accused by critiques of stretching the truth a bit. But though his retellings might have been flecked with hyperbole,that was apropos with what the man was. A story teller like a Twain except that his reminiscences were about boxing embellished with all the layers of life that he saw through his personal prism. His cockiness of his prose paralleled his appetite of he devoured life. His take of Stanley Ketchel though was sobering.Johnson said he was unimpressed by Ketchel's lack of fighting defense. If we look at the film of the fight ,that was staged as much as an exhibition than that of a real fight,we can take side with the "exhibition" claim because of the manner Johnson toyed with the crude Stanley. When Ketchel finally slipped one in on the lackadaisical Johnson toppling him to the canvas,Johnson within 8 seconds was standing over the prone and unconscious middleweight champion extracting Stan's teeth from his glove.

I saw Muhammad Ali's brother,Rahman,(often still being referred to as Rudy)fight his final go at the San Diego Coliseum against Big Jack O'Halloran. it wasn't much of a fight. Rahman was nothing close to his brother in the ring. He didn't try to emulate his older brother's style. Rahman's way o fighting was for me puzzling. I can't say that he possessed any strong trait except that he could take a shot pretty well. When I read that interview with O'Halloran when he said that The Greatest wanted him to fight Rahman in order to put his boxing hopes to rest,I rolled my eyes. O'Halloran was quoted that Ali was "embarrassed"by his brother's worth as a fighter. I don't buy that. Ali was very close to his family. He wouldn't want to see any harm come to anyone within his brood .Rahman's record shows that he engaged in 18 fights,winning 14,losing 3,and a draw. Probably O'Halloran was the most noteworthy fighter that appears on Rahman's record.He certainly wasn't being groomed as being at least the 2nd Greatest. He was your perfect example of the "Club Fighter."What would boxing be without them?

They were writing this guy up pretty strong in the San Diego and the Mexican papers-a Mexican heavyweight by the name of "King Kong" Diaz. "King Kong's"real first name is Arturo. In April of 1984 they were to put him in the ring against an African/ American fighter named Chris Davis who was making his pro debut. Well by now Mexico has been waiting for one of their own to be the baddest ass fighter on the planet since the sport's inception.At the time Mexico could claim many great champions weighing under 135 pounds,but a heavyweight champion was off their radar. Manual Ramos came about as close buckling Smokin' Joe Frazier's knees in Madison square Garden until Joe put a stop to such aspirations.And if Andy Diaz's mommy would have crossed over the line from Imperial,California a couple of miles south to Mexicali,Mexico to give birth to her son ,his birth certificate would have been enshrined in the Monument Of Mexican Revolutionary Heroes. But with "King Kong" Mexico was keeping their fingers crossed that he wouldn't slip on a banana peel. I went to see Diaz/Davis fight in Tijuana. For Davis this was to be his maiden fight out of the starting gate at the Aguas Caliente Racetrack. There was a good crowd. A lot of tension building up before the main event. But then when I saw Diaz enter the ring I could feel the air letting out of my tires.His torso was blubbery and soft. Skinny arms on a fat man's body. (But Andy Ruiz was similar in appearance).The fight was scheduled for ten but by the middle rounds both guys were gassed. I think their main intent was trying o hold each other up. Diaz was so tired that the drool swinging back and forth from his mouth was almost touching the canvas like a slimy slinky. How both boys lasted the full ten was unremarkable.Diaz got his hand raised,but everyone in attendance knew that it would only be a matter of time that "King Kong" would fall off the Empire State Building.His next fight was against the tough journeyman middleweight Marcos Geraldo at the Municipal Auditorium.Diaz was knocked off the steeple and crashed down to the street in five. If only Senora Ruiz would have gone into labor in Mexicali when visiting her sister.


Jack Johnson. To believe him is to doubt him.

A Different Fight For The Same Girl

I probably saw Burke Emery in attendance at the fights at least a half a dozen times. Each time he had a different girl on his arm.Back then he was a bartender at a local hangout in my neighborhood called O'Brians.Later he would go in partners with his girlfriend Shirley and they bought the place.Shirley was the last gal that finally stuck with Burke. When he started getting the dementia she was more or less his caretaker until she passed away suddenly from a fall. She broke her hip and then got pneumonia and died.It was quite a shock to everyone even though Shirley was some years older than Burke. She seemed in fine health until the fall. They had a memorial for her at the bar that they had changed the name to, Champs. Burke was pretty far gone by then and at the memorial kept asking where Shirley was. Soon after he was put in a nursing home.I don't know who initiated that.

Shirley was a blond,or at least dyed her hair that color. Every gal I saw him with at the fights was a blond. When he'd go to the fights everybody knew him and he was happy to be there acknowledging all the flattery. When Burke was around boxing he was in his element.When Rick Farris was working for Don Fraser for the California Boxing Hall Of Fame,I asked him if Burke would be an appropriate entry for the Hall.Fraser was more than happy to induct him, but it was equally important that Burke would buy tickets for at least two tables in order to be enshrined. I wouldn't have put it past Fraser if I had told him that I could fill two tables of paid guests so I could go up to the podium and be given a plaque.

When I got the OK from Rick, who had run Burke's name by Fraser,I broke the news to Burke and Shirley. Prior,when I had told him that I'd make the overture to Fraser's people, he went along. He wasn't doing somersaults,but he didn't refuse the gesture. Shirley was more than elated.
"Don't worry,"she reassured me. "This will be good for him. He needs a lift."
She then opened her purse and took out a 50 dollar bill and handed it to me.
"That won't be necessary now,"I said. "Get together the money for the tables and then I'll send it Fraser."

About a week before the ceremony I went into Champs wanting to touch bases.Burke was tossing darts.it was something he spent a lot of time doing at the bar.
"Well,are you looking forward to going to LA to get inducted?"I asked.
Burke turned around and gave me a disconcerting look. His face was all squinched up and he was sweating bullets
"No I ain't going.Get somebody else. I don't want to go,"he snapped.
Shirley was behind the bar and then came around to talk to me.She got up close not to have Burke hear.
"I don't know what to say. He was looking forward to going just last week.But now he doesn't want to go.".
"Don Fraser is looking forward to seeing you," I said to Burke moving beside him. "He told me that you and him used to bedrinking pals."
Burke didn't say anything.He just picked up another dart and tossed it at the board.
"I don't think there's anything we can do,"said Shirley."He's made up his mind."
"Well,they've printed the program. Burke is listed as one of the inductees."
"I still have the money for those tables. I can buy more.There are a lot of people that would go."
Burke was oblivious to me and Shirley. He was pitching darts like his life depended on it.
"Shirley I don't know what to say."
"I think it's useless,"she said sadly.

At the California Boxing Hall Of fame ceremony there was Burke's picture inside the program with a short bio. When Fraser called the inductees up to the podium to get their awards,he skipped over Burke's name. I wondered what everyone in the banquet room thought.It was shortly after the event that Shirley fell and broke her hip. I went one time to visit Burke at the rest home but they told me that his condition was turning violent.The only thing he asked about was where was Shirley.

Big Mouth

Jack E. Leonard was always harping about how Don Rickles stole his act, Only a real slime ball would want to ape someone who utilized that kind of performance.Get up on stage holding the microphone and work the room insulting the paid customers to get a laugh at their expense. Those two even resembled each other in looks.Two bald headed fat guys with those smug wide creepy smiles,haughty and arrogant,making fun of everyone who crossed their sight.Asians were especially ripe for the pickens.What used to really get me was that the intent was supposed to be in good fun.("Every person I make fun of I like"Ricklles would always say thinking that got him off the hook)But that ain't comedy.It's cheap and easy to do. Making fun of somebody because of the way they look or talk takes no talent.To me their audience had to be as low as those two to laugh at their stuff.Many in the crowd thought it an honor to be picked on by those two billiard ball heads.Some honor.

Mike Douglas used to have talk show in the late afternoon that was broadcast from Philadelphia. It was a pretty good show and he had a cross section of guests that felt comfortable with him.I remember for one whole week he had the four Beatles hosting the show, Not bad.One afternoon I tuned in the show and Douglas had on Jack E. Leonard to lead off.He plopped his fat ass on the couch and started his schtick. He was in his glory insulting everyone and then getting self satisfaction by laughing at his own below the belt jokes.He reeked of gluttonous indulgence. While he was soaking in the effluence from his journey into the sewer Douglas introduced his next guest,Cassius Clay. The Louisville Lip was taking a break from training for his fight with Liston.The time off was the result of an appendicitis attack. While was recuperating he accepted an invite to Douglas' show.

Now I'm moving to the edge of my living room seat because I know this smart aleck bozo is going to take a verbal swing at Cassius.Leonard moved to the end of the couch to make room for the number one contender.I don't think Clay had the slightest idea who the guy was sitting next to him.Douglas began striking up a rapport with Clay when Leonard just couldn't stand being upstaged anymore and cut in with a few of his patented insults. Clay,donned in a smart dark suit,sitting straight up and alert looking very striking,suddenly turned to Leonard and gave him a meltdown glare.
"You know something man.You got a big mouth and if you don't shut up i'm going to use your face for a punching bag."
That's all it took. Leonard extracted his girth from the couch and bolted down the aisle and out the back door. Douglas and Clay took notice,said nothing and then resumed to what they were talking about.Clay's topic was how he was going to beat Sonny Liston ironically borrowing some samples from Jack E. Leonard's act.

Sinatra used Don Rickles as a warm up before Frank got on stage and took over the crowd. Rickles was another guy who thought that his personal slights aimed at the innocent were gifts from heaven. Another jerk who thought he wasn't ,and was so wrapped up in himself.I forget what the program was all about but it featured Frank singing in front of Count Basie's band. Before the singing there was Mr. Insult with the mike working the crowd, In attendance were quite a number of celebs. Fred MacMurray was at a table with his wife and sure enough he could have been wearing bullseye on his chest. Rickles had no problem firing insults at the two, then standing there gloating making sure everyone thought he was funniest guy on earth. Now Rickles was picking up speed. He had plenty of bullseyes in the room and he wanted to throw his poison darts without even aiming. Sitting in the back at a table by himself was Joe Louis. The camera and Rickles had Joe in the viewfinder.Now I'm saying to myself that his is going to be ugly.Rickles spotted Louis,takes a deep breath,and then began to pick up the darts.
"Oh no.I see Joe Louis sitting in the back,"quipped the little fat guy.
Rickles stopped for a moment. He had Louis by the throat. Rickles scanned the room to make sure everybody was paying attention.He cleared his throat.
"Ol' Joe Louis,"said Rickles in a mammy jammin' drawl.
I closed my eyes waiting for the fuselage. Then all of a sudden Basie's band started playing an intermission riff REAL loud.Rickoles dropped the mike to his side and gaped at the audience.
"I guess I'm through,"he said bewilderedly.
Sinatra had cued up the band before Rickles could get off any salvos. Sinatra wasn't going to stand for his ol' pal Louis to take any cheap shots from that idiot.Sinatra could see that coming from Hoboken.

Joe Louis

The Handsome Bear

When two Mexican nationals square off in the ring you can forget about the odds. It becomes a test of manhood and it's all on the line for the aficanados to see. There've been some eye openers in the Mexican annals where the fighter bringing into the ring the long odds leaves bringing home the bacon. Little known Eloy Sanchez putting to sleep the bantam champ Joe Becerra in the bullring in Ciudad Juarez. Then there was German Bastides throwing a monkey wrench into Ruben Olivares' 27 fight win streak earning draw.Here's a good one-Beto Couary,a fighter with only two fights under his belt,upsetting the bantamweight champ of the world Manual Ortiz by decision.

The typical aficionado is the guy who works with his hands, breaking a sweat,having calloused palms,perpetual dirt under the fingernails.When he goes to the fights to see his countrymen slug it out he'll focus on the guy who isn't supposed to be standing at the end. if the underdog prevails then he's accomplished the right of passage to earn those manhood stripes.But if he isn't the winner he can still win them over if he trades punch after punch,bleeds like a faucet,and never takes a backward step. He's earned the right to be carried on the shoulders of the delirious.I've never seen a fight between two Mexican nationals where one of the fighters ducks and runs. That action will put him in the crossfire of being splattered with beer,a tossed chair or two,and comments questioning his manhood and who his mother was.

When Julio Cesar Chavez faced off against the Puerto Rican "Macho" Camacho it was fodder for Julio to debunk the "Macho" moniker. Chavez laughed.HE was the more "macho" man because he was uglier.Ugliness in a male is nearer the definition of being a man south of the border. A squashed nose is a symbol that he can take it. He displays his busted schnozz like a badge of honor.

Go to Mexico and it's rarity to see a Mexican male that isn't sporting facial hair either above his lip or under his chin.It's a sign of being machisimo.The soft skinned perfumed might think of themselves as being good looking and sexy,but that isn't equated with being macho. The erudite look at the rural,the ranchero as being "primitivo."But being rough around the edges trumps intellect. A scar,missing teeth,a good gunshot wound-that's something to talk about when your out with the men swapping stories. I was once with a bunch of Mexicans drinking beer in the cantina and the conversation was about who got in the most horrific car accident.The guy who was riding with the passenger that hit the light pole and went through the windshield and later to the morgue won.

Santa Anna,Mexico's leader at the Alamo,was chosen president four times in Mexico. During a battle he lost a leg. Santa Anna made sure that his limb didn't wind up in the incinerator. He encased his limb and took it with him when he campaigned.When standing at the podium he'd point to his leg and say,"See what I sacrificed for my country."He was president four times.

General Alvaro Obregon had his arm blown off by a grenade during the Battle of Trinidad when he defeated Pancho Villa's army.After the revolution Obregon became president and made sure when he got his picture snapped that he exhibited his right side showing the country his patriotic stub.

There' an expression in Mexico that goes like this...
"Un hombre como un oso es mas hermoso."(A man like bear is more handsome)
If that's the case I'll take my looks to Mexico to score with the senoritas. Get lost you chocolate drinkers.


Julio Cesar Chavez

Pulgarcito

Manual "Pulgarcito" Ramos never fought in San Diego but I did get to see him spar with Muhammad Ali when the Greatest was in town to get himself in shape to fight Ken Norton. Well,Ali never got in top form to fight Norton. He thought Norton was a push over("They'll change his name to Ken Fartin' when I'm through with him").Ali had never been to San Diego yet he could quickly decipher that the fans who came to see him workout daily at The Town And Country Inn in Mission Valley were enthralled by him. Ali spent more time walking around the ring with a microphone in hand entertaining the throng with humorous anecdotes than he did sparring,skipping rope,and punching the heavy bag.One afternoon "Pulgarcito" showed up to give Ali a little work.

Ramos was a big man. He wasn't the typical Mexican heavyweight who lugged around globs of excess fat. Ramos was three inches over 6 feet and his best fighting weight was in the vicinity of a shade over 200 pounds. Though he didn't have those "love handles" his body WAS typically Mexican. The Indian genes lend to skin that look soft,not the thin skin, taut, stretching over defined muscles. But that doesn't throw up a red flag of being out of shape. Ruben Olivares showed that body type. So did Julio Cesar Chavez. But underneath all that skin were muscles that beheld strength. "Pulagarcito" was a strong man.

"Pulagarcito" translated into English means "Tom Thumb." That nickname was ironically bestowed on him because he was such an imposing figure, especially by Mexican dimensions.By the time Ramos blew into town he was in the beginnings of a 17 fight losing streak.After losing to Joe Frazier in New York ,in a bid to capture the heavyweight title, Ramos let go of the rope.He could still get good fights but he was fighting on his name. Eventually, he dropped into the "stepping stone" category and could be called on short notice to fill the bill on any fight card wherever around the world. His work ethic had deteriorated to drinking heavily. His absences from the gym was well known in boxing circles.

I'd say his last good win was against Tony Doyle up in LA at the Olympic Auditorium.I saw the fight on the TV.It was very close but there were no boos emanating from the crowd after Ramos was declared the decision winner.I don't think there were many Irishmen seated in the arena that night to argue with the result unless they wanted to re enact The Alamo.

Tony Doyle was one of Ali's sparring partners for the Norton fight in San Diego.What happened was Ramos needed a paycheck. At that time Ramos was fighting only for the money. He asked Doyle if Ali could help him out.Fighters are pretty protective of each other.Muhammad had no problem giving Ramos some work. Any fighter,or anyone for that matter,knew that Ali was easy on his help. I'm not being presumptuous, but all Ali wanted to do when sparring was have the other guy tee off on him,not in the head,but to slam his body. It was a strategy that soon would leave him with damaged kidneys. All Ramos did was follow instructions and pound away at Ali's rib cage. Ali would roll with the punches and catch most of the stuff on his arms,but if the curious wanted to see floating and stinging they'd have to buy a ticket at the San Diego Zoo.

Overall I'd have to say that "Pulgarcito's" strongest attribute was the way he could take a punch.His inherent strength made him last as long as he did,but at the end all the blows that he'd absorbed had drained that power. Instead of losing lopsided decisions ,he wasn't finishing what he started. In Ramos' last fight a 13 and 9 Bob Hazleton knocked out Ramos in two rounds.Ramos broke the scale at the weigh in carrying 240 pounds.

I sometime think of "Pulgarcito."When he fought Frazier no one gave him much of a chance. Mexico was keeping their fingers crossed. in the 1st frame he caught Joe with a nice left hook. It was the closet a Mexican came to winning the heavyweight title. It was reminiscent of the time Joe Louis fought Tami Mauriello.Like "Pulgarcito",Tami wasn't considered giving Louis any problems. But in the opening frame the big Italian got over a right that buckled Louis' knees. Joe got mad and ended the fight before the three minutes were up. At least Ramos made it to the second round.

"Pulgarcito" returned to Mexico after hanging up the gloves. He probably never had to buy a drink in any cantina he stepped inside. That "life "that precipitated his decline finally KO'd him at the age of 56.BoxRec's obituary read that his passing "...closed the book on Mexico's greatest heavyweight contender."Somehow I think there should be a little more to add.

Whoever said a picture is worth a thousand words knew what he was talking about.

My Toughest Fight:A Fairy Tale

Fighters have a pattern ,when talking about their toughest fight, to name a bout that they won. They rarely mention a fight that they lost. Nino Benvenuti always says that Emile Griffith was the best fighter he did battle with and gave him his toughest fight. I guess he forgot what Carlos Monzon did to him in two matches. I once heard in an interview Sugar Ray Robinson say that Artie Levine gave him his toughest fight. Granted,Artie had Sugar down and on queer street in round 4, but Ray came back to stop him in the final round.Ray never brought up LaMotta or Fullmer.When I chatted with Mantequilla Napoles about his toughest fight he came up with the match he had with Carlos Hernandez in Carlos' backyard in Caracas. Carlos had the Jose on his back early,but The Butter Man got up,gathered himself again,and finished off Carlos in the 7th round.Since Jose was my idol I didn't want to second guess him with mentioning Monzon or Stracey.On perhaps a lesser note,the old warhorse,Scrap Iron Johnson remarked that journeyman Donnie Fleeman was his toughest test. Adversaries like Quarry,Foreman,Frazier,and Liston that all had his number didn't ring a bell with ol' Scrap.

So why would someone say something like that? Maybe the memory of getting an ass kicking will be suppressed deeper in the back of the mind. Or maybe it will deflect the recollection of that ass whupping so that the listener will nod and smile,raise his eyebrows and say, "Really."

I wouldn't be dumb enough to contradict what a fighter had to say to me about what was his toughest fight. I asked him.And he gave me his answer. We ain't on the forum where most of the time a question is raised, however the answer is already in mind.

Getting down to fighters past and present. You don't see any fighters posting on the forum. Gato Gonzalez posted a few times but he went through the translating with his soulmate Barbara. He mostly talked about himself. I can undrstand why a fighter wouldn't want to get caught up in a blog site. Worse,he wouldn't want to be second guessed. Further, he wouldn't want to get into a pissing contest.

When I used to frequent Burke Emery's bar, Champs,there would always be some drunk who would ask Burke his take on a fight or a fighter,and sure enough Burke would get his toes stepped on. Burke would smile and agree,and then pick up a few darts,turn his back on the guy, and return to the board pitching the missiles.

I guess as long as I can fill my lungs with air I'll find enough toes that I can plant my size elevens on typing away night after night.Besides,I don't think Nino Benvenuti would read this piece and call me out.


Nino Benvenuti

The Fighting Filipino

I saw him fight three times in three different countries.All three times I saw him fight he lost. His name was Dominado Manalang. He was a Filipino.Before I conitinue with this I want to say that the first time I saw him fight was at the Honolulu International Center that everyone called the HIC using the anacronym. The second time I saw him fight was up at the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. The third and last time I saw him fight was at the Fronton Palacio in Tijuana. Now I know you caught my error. Hawaii is a state. I've never looked at it that way though. Yes,technically Hawaii is a state,but every time I've been there I think I'm in Asia.

During the 60's I went to Hawaii a few times as part of what they call in the parlance, a "Surfing Safari."I was never a very good surfer.The waves that broke in San Diego had it in them to want to drown me.The waves in Hawaii were supercharged to the point that I knew if I pushed the limits I'd be in Davey Jones locker.It was during one of those surfing safaris that I saw Dominado(everyone called him Domi)Manalang at the HIC Auditorium.I'd found a gym in Honolulu and while I was pushing the iron around I heard some of the locals talk about going to the fights that night and watch the local boy,Domi Manalng,tangle with a Mexican import by the name of Mario Manrique. Since I was a boxing nut and nuts to think of myself as even an adequate surfer I asked the Poi Boys if I could tag along and go to the fights. Although they were clannish and I was a Howlie Boy(a non Hawaiian) I won these guys over because I could lift more weight than any of them put together. After the workout we all piled in the car and trekked to the HIC. All the way over they talked up Manalang. I was half listening. I just wanted to do something different than half drowning in Honolulu Bay.We got to the arena and the place was mobbed. The atmosphere reminded me of the Municipal Auditorium in Tijuana.I didn't see many white faces,but since I was with these guys I felt safe.The only thing that worried me was that they might over imbibe and then, like their Mexican counterparts across the Pacific, might get a yen to turn on me. You never know. Well,they did do some drinking, but they were so engrossed in the fights that they put me on their "pay no mind list."Manalang and this Marquez put on quite a show. For ten rounds they traded punches and through the action it was all ebb and flow. The ref never had to separate them from a clinch.Going into the tenth and last round it was up for grabs. Everyone was on their feet screaming and yelling.Then this Manrique caught Manalang coming off the ropes with a right hand that sent the Filipino back to Manila Bay. Unable to defend himself the ref waved it off. The crowd deflated fast but since it was such a great fight there was no bottle or chair throwing. In the mean time I found an appreciation for Dominado Manalang.

Aileen Eaton ,the empress of the Olympic,was a true blue artist of promoting her weekly fight cards. Watching th fights on the tube,Mrs. Eaton was spinning off on the next week's main event-Lenny Brice against Domi Manalang.Now let me say without hesitating,Lenny Brice gave the fans their money's worth. He was a frequent star at the Olympic.He packed a sock in each hand .However,defense wasn't in his vocabulary. But Domi Manalang was also unfamiliar with the word. I was licking my chops to see these two go at each other. But Mrs. Eaton wasn't about to give the fight away for free on the television. If you wanted to see these two boys you had to pay to get in.Mrs. Eaton's pitch had me swallow hook ,line,and sinker. I drove up to LA by myself.I got there early because I figured there'd be a sellout.I got a ducat up in the rafters, but there was always a pretty good view of the action at the Olympic anywhere you sat.Well, I can say that I was glad I saw this one. I thought Brice might have too much firepower for Manalang,but the Filipino didn't back away once. At the end of ten Brice had eked out a MD win. It could have gone either way, If that fight would have been back in Honolulu Manalang would have gotten his hand raised.

After the Brice fight I was walking around downtown TJ and saw on a poster that Manalang was going to be in town to fight another of Mexico's quality bantamweights,Julio Guerrero.This was a no brainer. I'd be there. The fight was booked for the Fronton Palacio on Revolution Street.The aficianados knew what was going to be in store and it was standing room only inside.Guerrero was the typical Mexican left hook artist that threw caution to the wind.This fight wasn't as close as what I saw with Manalang in the prior bouts. it looked like Guerrero's left was attached to Manalang's chin through the first six rounds.It was brutal,but I got to say that Manalang had plenty of guts.He was getting familiar with the canvas from those left hooks.Every time he rose his face looked more and more horrible. Finally,he stayed down.The aficianados went nuts of course,but when they finally got Manalang to his senses and as he left the ring,the crowd gave him a standing round of applause.

So there you have it. A guy I saw fight three times lose all three.In the end all I can say that Domi Manalang was one hell of a fighter.

Aileen Eaton