Classic American West Coast Boxing

[dagosd2000]

Leaving It In The Gym

I remember when Gaspar Ortega got his long awaited shot at the welterweight title against Emile Griffith.The fight was in June of 1961 at the Olympic Auditorium. When I say "long awaited" it's not to imply that Emile was ducking Gaspar. Emile never ducked anybody.In fact ,with the exception of Floyd Patterson, none of the division champs ducked anybody.It's just that back then there were so many good welterweights Gaspar just had to be a little patient. The days of white champs avoiding the quality black fighters like the unfortunate "Black Murderers Row" group of the 40's was history. And to add,if the contests gave the fans their money's worth you would see the pair back in the ring in 90 days or even less.

But Emile and Gaspar were no strangers with each other when they faced off in LA.In 1960 they fought each other in Madison Square Garden in New york.Neither man wore a title belt at the time. I saw the fight on TV. Between Gaspar Ortega and Emile Griffith they appeared on TV almost as much as Ozzie and Harriet. I was rooting for Gaspar. The fight was close,but trying to beat Emile Griffith in New York was like trying like trying to arrest Jesse James in Missouri. It wasn't going to happen. The only way Ortega would have gotten his hand raised is if had caught Griffith with a "Hurricane Carter" Sunday punch. But that didn't happen and it went to the cards. It was Emile on a split decision.All the judges must have been smoking something funny because the scores were all over the place.The disparity was a head scratcher. Two had it way ahead for Emile:7 to 3 and 8 to 1 ,while the referee Harry Forbes saw it 8 to 1 for Gaspar.Where's the challenge flag or, more appropriately, the district attorney?

I figured the title match in LA would be a good one and so did everyone else.But Gaspar came up a cropper.He looked(to borrow Hemingway's line)staler than poor house cake.Remember when Ethel Merman sang "Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better"? Well,Griffith looked more like Ethel Merman in that fight than the number 1 contender.Let's put it this way to make my the description.They should have given a microphone to Emile and he could have sung "Anything You Can Do I can Do FASTER."It was catch up all the way for Ortega before he finally succumbed in the 12th round. All I can say on his behalf was that he was game.

I read an interview with Gaspar years later when he said that he had"over trained" for that fight,that he had "left his fight in the gym."Gaspar ,I love ya' but every time a fighter says that,"I over trained and left my fight in the gym stuff"I don't quite buy it. He added that because he had over trained he didn't "feel right"when he climbed into the ring. Now that I can buy.

So why did he lose as badly as he did?I mean he went 12 rounds with the best welterweight in the world. He HAD to be in shape physically.Mentally?Somewhere there lies the answer.1'm no shrink(even though I sometimes sound like one)but my take is that Gaspar was in there with a better fighter. Griffith was at his peak then.Gaspar may or may have not reached his pinnacle,but even if he had ,Griffith was a better fighter.But that's nothing to be ashamed of.Remember,Emile Griffith was such a great fighter that later, when the petals were beginning to drop from the lily,he could still beat a fighter who was in full bloom.


Two great welterweights and some guy in the middle

[dagosd2000]

Move

I found that interview with Gaspar Ortega on the internet.Good stuff. The article was dated July 31st of this year.They asked Gaspar a slew of questions about his opponents-who punched the hardest,the best chin,best boxing skills,best defense,etc. Good stuff. But it always gets me when they interview a fighter and ask him "Who was the best overall?"it's always a guy he beat.It's never a guy who whipped him good. But I can live with that. In Gaspar's case the best overall fighter he said he faced was Tony DeMarco.Gaspar trimmed him 2 out of 3.The wins were in the Garden in New York. Gaspar dropped the last one to Tony in Tony's backyard of Boston.Going the distance with DeMarco in Boston and getting the nod is like arresting Jesse James in Missouri(Where did I hear that before? )

Anyway, when Gaspar was asked what fighter showed him the best footwork,he responded with the Cuban, Isaac Logart. Just about all those Cuban fellows that I saw fight(not the ones today) displayed great footwork with the possible exception of Florentino Fernandez. Florentino was a pure belter. He either took you out or you he left the ring before the scheduled ten. But good footwork was a model with those Cuban fighters. With what I saw there were two types-the bouncy guys like Jose Legra and Luis Rodriguez;and the more methodical like Kid Gavilan and Jose Napoles.

Reading Enrique Encinosa's book,"Hard Leather",that's a compilation of Cuban fighters,Encinosa said that when the Dundees' were training all those Cuban exile fighters in Miami a young Cassius Clay couldn't take his eyes of Louie Rodriguez.Look at Rodriguez and then take a look at Clay. They were joined at the hip. But to fight that style(bouncy is what I call it)you give up some of your power with your punches. When a fighter is on the balls of his feet his hand speed is there ,but it takes the sting off his shots. But Rodriguez,Legra,and Clay were not in there to go toe to toe,But they had to have the talent to pull that off.The had that talent.

When Jose Napoles came over to Mexico he knew that the Mexican fighters were tough hombres who liked to work the body and didn't have any other pretenses about how they were going to fight you.They wanted to trade blows and the last man standing was the most macho. The only Mexican fighter Jose fought who wasn't of that ilk was Baby Vasquez. He was slippery and made Napoles work.Jose fought him once getting the decision and then looked for a more stable target down the road.. Napoles trained in Mexico for almost a year to strengthen his body before he challenged any of the locals. He knew what he was in for.At first he did the "bouncy" thing,but those guys kept coming at him so he "flattened out" his feet to get more into his shots. However his footwork was still Grade A stuff.This is the thing that always got me about Jose-he adjusted his movement to his opponent's. if the other guy was fast, Napoles would shift into a higher gear like he did with Hedgemon Lewis. However,if his opponent's attack was more deliberate he'd take it down a notch like what happened when he fought "Indian Red". Jose liked to draw guys to him or he could jump the left into a guy's face.When I talked to him in Ciudad Juarez he told me he could anticipate what his opponent wanted to do.That only comes with experience.

Kid Gavilan was closer to Napoles than to Rodriguez or Legra. The Keeed could have written a textbook on how to fight in the ring.His punches were wider than Jose's and he had one of the best chins to keep him fighting for such a long time.When he fought the undefeated Chuck Davey in a title defense,The Hawk schooled the college boy handing him his first loss by a TKO.After the fight when asked what he thought,Gavilan smiled and said."I had too much experience going for me."

For me it's always been about the legs. Buster Douglas moved circles around Tyson.It was Buster's pins that did the job.And with The Greatest the difference between 1968 and 1970 and beyond was that Ali had "lost" his legs.

In my book when a fighter can't move around like he should anymore it's time for him to move out of harm's way.


Kid Gavilan

[dagosd2000]

Mexicali Rose

I've been yakkin' for some time about all the fights I've been to in Tijuana,but the state's capital,Mexicali had their share too.Pipino Cuevas wrecked champ Angel Espada in 2 rounds to capture the welterweight crown in 1976.And in the same year Alfonso Zamora copied Pipino flattening Eusubio Pedroza also in 2 frames in a bantamweight title fight.

But two heavyweight champions were enticed to come to the this city in the middle of the desert though they weren't defending any titles.Two of the biggest names who ever wore the crown-Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano. In 1946 Joe was invited by the city fathers to put on an exhibition match. Louis brought along his ever faithful sparring partner Perk Daniels.From the old timers in Baja California ,who went back that far, they reminisced about how just about the whole burg greeted The Brown Bomber as if he was MacArthur wading to shore in the Philippines.Later,after Joe had retired, he put on another display,this time in Mexico City with Arturo Godoy.

Mexico fell in love with Louis because Joe was a humble man who was the baddest dude on the planet.We here in the states certainly respect a heavyweight champ regardless of were he hangs his hat.But in Mexico they've never had a heavyweight champ of their own. About as close as any Mexican got to be that top dog was when "Pularcito" Ramos buckled Joltin' Joe Frazier's knees with a left hook in The Garden. I guess that got Joe's attention so we went back to work and finished of "Pulgarcito" like squishing a flea between your fingers.

Recently we saw Andy Ruiz embarrass Tony Joshua to win the belt. But Andy was born a stone's throw toss across from the Mexican border in Imperial California.If only had Senora Ruiz had gone to visit her sister on the other side in Mexicali when she was pregnant with the future champ and gave birth there. If that had happened Andy would have been held in higher esteem than the coming of Moses,at least from Mexico's viewpoint.

After Rocky Marciano had had enough of breaking his ass in the gym and Al Weill stealing his money,he latched onto an Italian kid from the neighborhood,Mike Pusateri,a middleweight.Rocky somehow took a fight with his protegee in of all places,Mexicali. This was in 1966.So both of them had to settle for eating rolled tacos instead of linguini and clams. BTW,the Mexican local,Rafael Gutierrez who was in the ring with him rolled Mike in 3 rounds and had him on the plane back to Brockton.At least he could cry in his pasta.

But like Joe Louis,Rocky Marciano was a living legend with the aficianados. No one was interested in seeing Mike Pusateri in a fight. it was The Rock who they stood and cheered for.

Clay/Ali was never that popular in Mexico. He talked too much and wanted to be the center of attention. Mexicans like their champions more stoic.You could never pin the label on Joe and Rocky that they were loquacious.

I've spun the time I saw Louie Rodriguez fight Rafa Gutierrez in San Diego in what was billed as title eliminator for the next step-getting a chance to fight Benvenuti for all the marbles.My father wanted to go an that was a surprise. He had backed off boxing by then because there were no more Marcianos or Willie Peps around.Though Nino was a native Italian and the champ he was no goomba because he wasn't from the states. Now if you brought up opera singers that was different.

I went to watch Rodriguez train everyday.I don't remember were Gutierrez was sweating.Louie was a fun loving soul except when it came to fighting. He wanted that shot with Benvenuti and he was rough with his sparring partners.A local middleweight,Johnny Wise,told The Nose that he didn't want to wear the headgear when they sparred because he had some sort of pimples on his face so please don't hit me in the head kind of thing.Louie threw the headgear at Wise's acne and ordered him to get in the ring.Nuff said.

The fight was screwy from the start. My father was for Gutierrez though Angelo Dundee was in El Feo's corner. The fight lasted till the 6th round when Rodriguez telegraphed a left hook from Havana knocking Gutierrez almost to the other side of the border. But up to that moment Rodriguez hadn't won a round(in my mind). Gutierrez was a strong dude,put together solidly,though his skill level wasn't in Rodriguez's caliber.Rodriguez acted like he didn't know what to do with him.

After the fight was over my father was in the ring with Dundee embracing him as they walked to the dressing room.
"You got your shot Ange,"I heard my father say to him as I was left alone in my seat.

After Rodriguez had been on the decline the two met again in the Bay Area.This time Louie couldn't muster up any left hooks from Havana.It was Rafa winning by a one of the rare KO's dealt to the great Cuban.

You might be wondering why I've never talked abut seeing any fights in Mexicali. The reason is that I haven't.Howver ,I did see some amateur action. I was coaching U.S. football at that private school in TJ named CETYs.One of the kids on the team had a brother that was entered in a amateur tournament for the state champioships in Mexicali. We all piled into my van and rode along the Rumarosa,the two lane asphalt highway that ended up in the state capital about 70 miles east. There's an interstate on the U.S. side that runs parallel to the Rumarosa but a couple of the kids didn't have visas to cross. so we stayed on the Mexican side. Let me tell you ,the Rumarosa is an adventure by itself. The road twists and turns and rises up to over 4 thousand feet in altitude.there are no guard rails,no lights,no center lines,no rest stops,no emergency phones.no other townsYou can look over the sides and see wrecks of cars hundreds of feet below in these gorges. I've always wondered if there were bodies still in those wrecks.

The fights that night were in Mexicali's auditorium. The kid's brother lost in his first go so they decided to go home.But their good 'ol coach talked the little imps to stick around and explore Mexicali's version of Tijuana's Coahuila. I don't know how I kept my van on the road and didn't wind up below in one of those gorges driving back to TJ after that night on the town.


The run up in the Calexico,California newspaper about the forthcoming exhibition featuring Joe Louis.




I was singing this to one of those girls in the cantina that night. I was a mess.

[dagosd2000]

Keep A Smile On Your Face

A few years back I met up with "Gato" Gonzalez and Barb for lunch at some swank Mexican restaurant in Oceanside along by the .harbor. It was 11 o'clock and the place had just opened. The day was warm and the sky clear.There was a nice breeze so we decided to sit outside.Mexican food is nothing really fancy. On the bill of fare there's not not much that needs to be cooked in an oven. What you can order at a place like we were dining you can order the same at the local taco joint. I forget what I ordered and I forget what they ordered but it was probably "the usual."If you guessed tacos you were probably pretty close.You don't have to stretch your imagination to come up with "the usual."But I will say this. Mexican food tastes better in Mexico because they like to fry using good 'ol standard pig fat-lard,or as they call it,manteca.California health food nuts(and they are plenty of them)can give you a dozen reasons why manteca is bad for you and they're right.But f--k them.They eat Mexican food blocking out the assumption that greasy pig fat is in what whatever they're eating. Mexican food tastes better,has more flavor, when cooked in manteca. The thing is if they're at a dining table in San Diego the cook probably used canola oil or flaxseed oil.If the owner wants to skimp he can buy plain 'ol corn oil and save money. If he really wanted to cut corners he could buy that lard that comes in that big red carton and looks like a big glob of wax.But enough of that."Gato" always enlightens the conversation and I'm sure if we wanted to talk about manteca he'd tell me something I didn't know.

When Gato won the championship from "Chango" Carmona he bought a house for his mother in Tijuana in a very nice part of town by the racetrack called "Colonia Chapultepec."With the money left over he did what a lot of Mexican fighters do(and a lot of gringos too)he bought a bar for himself.The bar he said was in the Coahuila. I should have asked him the name of the place.I'm sure I was a customer at one time or another and dropped a few coin in the jukebox and buying drinks for the girls."Gato" told me that he sold the bar years ago. Having a bar to me is a pain in the ass anyway,and having one in the red light district in Tijuana and then living in San Diego had to be a nightmare.If you own the joint you have to be in there all the time.A lot of people think that the Coahuila is a dangerous place to be,but it's really one of the safest. The narcos own just about everything and they have their cops there to keep everybody in line.Get out of line and you'll get shaken down good(they call that "mordida")or you might wind up in jail(the old Tijuana jail that closed down around ten years ago that they called "Calle Ocho", because it was located on 8th street, is now bunch of other jails spread around the city)

"Gato" told me he made a big mistake turning the deed to the house over to his brother after his mother had died.
"The house has seven rooms and my brother rents the rooms out to different people,You know how it is down there." "Gato" explained with some regret in his voice.
"What can I do?I don't want to live in the house but I sure could use the money renting it out.My brother is doing better than me."

I asked "Gato" if he fought any amateur fights.
"You know in Mexico life is a struggle. I was very poor and so was my family. My father wanted me to be a bullfighter but I was afraid of the bulls. My uncle Jose Becerra told me that I should become a fighter.I went to the gym with my cousin 'Alacran" Torres and we liked boxing.But I didn't want to fight as an amateur and not get paid so I turned pro when I was 14 years old.My first fight was with some guy who was 29. I beat him and then went on.In Mexico fighting is like that for many. You sink or you learn how to swim. I won a lot of fights in the beginning.It was like having amateur experience but I got paid for it.The strong survive and the rest go find something else to do."
Then I told "Gato" about the time someone asked me for my help.

"I remember a friend of mine called me late one night and said his nephew was in jail in Tijuana and wanted to know if I could lend a hand getting his nephew out of the slammer. Seemed the kid parked his car on the street and had a bullet he used as a paperweight on the dashboard.A cop saw the bullet and waited for my friend's nephew to return.The cop pulled his gun and told the kid that firearms and ammunition was against the law in Tijuana and slapped the cuffs on the poor kid. That's when I got the call from my friend. Well,we went down to the Tijuana jail on 8th street and they said that he was here but now he's at another jail.When I asked the desk cop where the kid was he told me for a thousand dollars he'd give me directions. So me and my friend had to cross back to San Diego and go to the bank for a withdrawal. I told my friend he better withdraw more than the grand because now the gig was up. He drained his account and we got in the car and went back to Calle Ocho,We gave the cop the thousand. He told us where the kid was in another jail on the other side of the city. Well,to make a long story short this game was being played at this jail too.No.the kid was here but now he's in another jail and for another thousand I'll tell you where.By the time we had run out of many and two more jails later they released the kid to his uncle.Goes to show you if you need a paper weight on your dashboard in Tijuana you're better off hiding that bullet or you'll wind up biting it."

Gato and Barb were transfixed by that story.
"Rodolfo,"Barb said."I'm glad your brother has the house. What would we do living in Tijuana anyway?"
"Maybe I could sell the house and open a bar,"he said.
"You better be smiling when you say that", she said giving him one of those looks.


Barb,"Gato",and me enjoying Mexican food in Oceanside sans the lard

[dagosd2000]

An Hour With The Champ

Jose Napoles owned three bars that I know of. He opened up a place while he was still fighting in the upscale section of Mexico City called The Zona Rosa.The story has it that one day some cops came into his place to put the bite on him-the mordida. Now I don't know what kind of cops they were:locals or they were in uniform,the federales.It ain't that important,but they thought they could shake him down. But Jose wasn't one of those macho guys who just talked the talk(He never was one for bragging)but if he had to walk the walk he'd put on running shoes.The way I heard it was when these so called cops thought they could make him shake in his boxing shoes,Jose went to the back room and returned followed by a few of his compadres.Just like in that movie Goodfellas when Ray Liotta locked the door to his bar because Joe Pesci and Robert DeNiro were going take care of that "made" guy who was mouthing off with the insults and they wanted no witnesses,Jose had his crew do similar with these cops. The door was closed behind and then Jose and friends began to dish out some rough sparring on these Jack Webb wannabees.To add insult to injury ,after getting the s--t kicked out of them, Jose thought he should put an explanation mark on their punishment. He then unlocked the door and him and his boys continued with the rough stuff and threw these guys out onto the sidewalk minus their clothes.Now that took some balls.Off the top of your heads you might imagine 'ol "Mantequilla" having to appear before a judge and pay the consequences for behaving so rudely.But Jose was a man's man and he backed that perception up by the way he handled things. No.Jose didn't go to jail.They didn't shut his bar down. In fact his legend just grew bigger.

"Gato" Gonzalez told me that Napoles also had a watering hole in Long Beach.Can't provide anymore details about that drinking establishment,but I'm sure there was no blender behind the counter so the bartender could mix a champagne cocktail.(Maybe you don't need a blender.What the hell I never had one)

I know that Napoles' last joint he opened was in his final residing place of Ciudad Juarez. Back in 2014 I wanted to see my favorite fighter so I drove from San Diego to Ciudad Juarez.I parked on the U.S. side and walked across the bridge.When me and the taxi driver were driving around the city trying to find him I asked the cabbie what he knew of Mr. Napoles. The cabbie knew that was a champion once(that was before his time) and that he owned a bar in town. I then proceeded to ask him what the bar was like.
"I went there one time,"the cabbie said shaking his head."The place was crazy.There were a couple of fights that spilled out to the street. People doing drugs in the bathroom.Girls taking guys to the booths in the back and giving them head."
"Is it still there?"
"The bar is but Napoles doesn't own it anymore."
"I was just curious."
We drove around awhile longer and after pulling up to a few corners to ask directions we finally found Napoles sitting in front of his house smoking a cigar.Me and the cabbie then spent the next hour sopping up some good Napoles stories.

On the way back to the border the taxista asked me if there was anything else.
"No just take me to the bridge and I'll walk back."
"If you want to get laid I can take you to that bar that Napoles once owned."
"No thanks.I can always get laid.Today, I just want to say I spent an hour with Jose Napoles."


Jose and the cab driver

[scartissue]

Rog, that is still such an awesome story. The way you scribe always has me envisioning every nuance, every turn of the corner, every bit of visible scartissue on a fighter. Awesome!

[dagosd2000]

Rog, that is still such an awesome story. The way you scribe always has me envisioning every nuance, every turn of the corner, every bit of visible scartissue on a fighter. Awesome!

Thanks Dan I appreciate that. When I get going on something I think of guys like you that I'm trying to reach. It's very satisfying for me that you like my stuff. Take care pal.Your amigo,Rog

[dagosd2000]

In A Neutral Corner

There once was a young alto saxophone player named Dean Benedetti.In the early 1950's he went to a jazz club in New York City to listen to Charlie Parker.After hearing a set of Bird, Benedetti never took his alto sax out of the case again. He knew he could never play like Parker.Parker was a genius. A gift from God that we were to relish until his inevitable death at the age of 34.Prior to Parker's demise Benedetti followed Parker around with a tape recorder to capture this genius emanating from his horn. People knew of Benedetti's quest but Benedetti had dropped out of the picture after Parker died. Jazz fans wanted to know if these tapes were still around. Parker,like many jazz artists,never thought much of his "studio recordings".They were constrained exercises in a sterile environment constantly being interrupted by sound techs who "heard something" they didn't like and then would shout into the microphone"Retake!"Benedetti's tapes would give credence that "live" performances were the proper settings for the jazz musician.Many years later,In the 90's,Benedetti came out of hiding(he went to Italy were he felt more at home)and revealed that yeah,he was sitting on those tapes.I have a CD set of them.The audio quality is something that sounds like it was recorded inside a phone booth(remember them?).But the "genius" is clearly evident. Sometimes Benedetti would only record Parker and then after his solo he would shut down his machine.But Dean Benedetti would never unlock his saxophone case. He could never play up to the standards of Charlie Parker.God left that sound to Charlie Parker.

As you are aware of by now, if you read my stuff ,I often post the image of one of my paintings under my stories. Painting is something I like to do.You could say my inspiration borders on the passionate but because I'm mostly a Saturday painter ,and I've been to enough art museums to I know that I'm no Da Vinci, so I'm not going to break my brushes and use them as kindling.I know my place.My limits. I have fun with it.

I've sold some of my art. I usually do portraits. I once did a cover for the World Boxing Hall Of Fame's program. At first I thought I could make a living selling my paintings.But like thousands(maybe millions) of confident beginners I realized that rejection and downright uninterest is a prevailing condition in the art world.

Rick Farris,the guru of the West Coast Boxing Hall Of Fame in Los Angeles, commissions the Philippino artist ,Jun Aquino,to paint portraits of the fighters who are inducted into The Hall each year.They are displayed at the event and then given to the fighters or their families.Aquino is the real article. His drawing skills are A One,his use of light correct,and his selection of color top everything off.

I wish I could paint like Jun Aquino.But I'm satisfied,even happy,with my finished products.But when I go to the art museum or look at one of Aquino's works I go to a neutral corner..

My favorite artist is Norman Rockwell.They call him an illustartor(which he was).His talents were in such demand that he often couldn't keep up with his commissions. He was NOT one of those starving artists.But the phony erudites demeaned his art because he had to paint what was demanded by the corporate world that wanted his art on their magazine covers or boxes of cornflakes.But the real critics,who don't have the blinders on of commercialism ,know that Rockwell could stroke his brushes onto he canvas with the best you can think of.If Rembrandt(one of Rockwell's idols) was around the Dutchman would tip his beret.I think another thing that some of the critics find fault is that Rockwell wasn't the type of guy who cut off his ear or shot himself in the head or died of cirrhosis of the liver.. But though Rockwell may have appeared to be Ozzie Nelson to the public he battled with his demons.His paintings are a microcosm of what America is,though with time he had to factor in race and the social conditions that the country was struggling through.

When put under a microscope everything Rockwell put on canvas is mindboggling.Sometimes I think the immense volume detracted his worth according to the critics. Da Vinci's surviving output numbers around eight or nine. For each one you could buy a city with.

Though Norman Rockwell was not a fight fan by any stretch my favotite"boxing" picture is his "Sharpshooter."It kind of reminds me of the mural painted by James Montgomery Flagg in Jack Dempsey's restaurant of Jack and Jess in Toledo.

Life is too short to be locking up saxophone cases or throwing tubes of paints into the East River. Try to have some fun. Know that being the best is either a subjective conception or something that doesn't last very long.And be sure to wear your mask.

Manny Paquiao by Jun Aquino

Norman Rockwell's "The Sharpshooter."

[dagosd2000]

James Montgomery Flagg was no slouch either. Postcard of the mural in Jack Dempsey's joint.I have one of these signed by the Manassa Mauler. He gave it to my dad when he was in New York.

After I posted this I tried to find it. Turns out it's a postcard in Dempsey's place but not of the mural.

[dagosd2000]

This Time The Dream's On Me

Live recording of Charlie Parker at the Roseland Ballroom, New York City !952.Some guy brought in his tape recorder and caught this live.Mundell Lowe on guitar. I saw Mundell Lowe when he was 90 years old at a jazz concert in Ocean Beach .He lived in San Diego.I gave him a painting I did of him.The guy played just like he did in 1952.We talked about this concert.It was like yesterday. Walter Bishop Jr. on piano , Curly Russell on bass , Roy Haynes on drums. ELECTRIFYING

[dagosd2000]

The Crowd Chaser

At first I didn't want to go. But my friend talked me to going to the fights. It was when Lionel Rose was on top of the bantamweight pack and Mexico was impatiently waiting for one of their own to devour him.My friend had never been to a boxing match and the way I had talked them up it was no wonder that he wanted to go so badly that he even offered to buy the tickets. So I took him up on it.

Lionel Rose had won the title in 1968 when he beat the guy who pinned the first loss on the then seemingly invincible Eder Jofre. The guy's name was Fighting Harada and he probably wound with up that moniker because was always in tremendous shape and came to fight. It was quite an accomplishment too because Rose had to go over to Harada's neck of the woods, Japan, to turn the trick.

Well,back then the Mexican bantamweights were the cream of the crop.You could go through that division and see the tricolor next to most of the top contenders' names.Rose had scratched off one of those names,the hard pinching Joe Medel,at the LA Forum and was riding a 20 fight win streak.Promoter George Parnassus, who worked magic lining up fights at The Forum, knew that he had a hungry bunch of aficianados anxious to see who the Greek would pull next out of that handbag of Mexican contenders to feed their appetites. Sooner or later it would have to be Ruben Olivares,the undefeated KO artist,but Parnassus was biding his time. He was going to whet their palettes with a guy who always pleased a crowd,Chucho Castillo,and sold a lot of tickets.So when I told my pal that he was going to be in for something special I didn't foresee the irony of it.

I had been to the Los Angeles Forum a few times before. I liked going up there to see the LA Lakers play. I'd never been inside such a magnificent arena.The seating swooped up the sides to the top of the arena.It kind of took your breath away.Chick Hearn,the one of a kind announcer of the Lakers,called the place "The Los Angeles Forum.The world's most beautiful sport's theater."Chick had a way of calling it as he saw it

When we pulled into the parking lot I could tell it was going to be one of those "Reeely beeeg shows" to borrow Ed Sullivan's vernacular. Outside it was like a giant hornet's nest. Just about all the crowd was Mexican and they were honing their stingers.My friend asked me who I thought was going to win.
"Well,put it this way.Let's hope Castillo wins or they'll burn the place down."
I didn't figure that my response was going to be a prophesy realized.

We took our seats amongst the rabble. I didn't want to sit up in the nosebleed section because that's where most of the rowdies congregated,and if we were near ringside ,and something didn't agree with those guys in the rafters, I didn't want to perform the duck and cover drill. So we planted our butts somewhere in the middle.

I'd seen Rose fight before when he won the title against Harada. I think Rose has always been overlooked when they talk about the great bantams,and around that time that division was loaded; probably the most competitive weight class.When Jimmy Lennon announced Chucho Castillo to the throng I thought that the pandemonium would never die down.When Lennon presented Rose I thought they were going to kill him before the fight ever got started.Maybe I wished they had.

Rose had two strikes against him before the first bell rang.One:he was an aborigine that made him black.Two:he spoke in one of those English type voices.I kind of wanted Castillo to win,but if he didn't I made sure I knew where the exit doors were located.

The pattern kind of went as I thought. Castillo was wild and came in swarming but he wasn't landing cleanly. Rose on the other hand was sharper but didn't throw as much leather. He was definitely the better boxer.Yet anything Castillo did was acknowledged with a roar. When Rose connected there was only murmurings.As the fight progressed into the later rounds I felt that Castillo was falling behind and would need a KO to earn that championship. In the 10th round he dropped Rose. The mob went berserk.Rose got up.He still had his legs and his head cleared in few seconds.But even with the knockdown I thought Chucho needed to get on his choo choo to win the thing. The bout lasted the full 15. it was close but I thought if the judging was objective I'd have my eye one those exit doors.Only the referee Dick Young had Castillo winning.The two judges Lee Grossman and John Thomas had the Aussie. Then all hell broke loose. The incoming into that ring looked like Sioux slinging arrows at Custer's 7th cavalry.. People started to grab anything they could tear out of their places and threw them like tomahawks. I smelled smoke. The yelling was something out of The Battle Of The Little Big Horn songbook. My friend was in shock standing frozen. I grabbed him by the arm and said if we wanted to see tomorrow we better get the hell out of here.

We ran out to the parking lot.I hoped I could find my car without having to break out a my weegie board. I saw one car on fire and another being turned on its side by some of the drunken warriors.Luckily my car was in one piece and after doing a quick body search so was I.My friend passed his physical too and we were on the freeway before you could say "Sports doesn't develop character.It reveals it."

Half way down the road I asked my friend what were his thougts.
"You never told me it would be something special like this,"he said, his eyes wide open.
"Well,"I assured him.,"I thought I'd surprise you."


Chucho Castillo

[dagosd2000]

A Paisan From Cuba

After Carmen Basilio retired my father in a sense retired from following the fights anymore. There were no more paisans of any prominence on the scene so my father threw in the towel so to speak.He considered Patterson a "cheese champ" that couldn't have carried Marciano's spit bucket. Liston ,he thought was a phony with that scary attitude he carried around.Then came Clay and my father couldn't stand the P.T. Barnum act.I tried to impress upon him the Mexican fighters who were gaining respect and championships and he kind of shrugged them off though he did concede that they had guts.

I wanted my father to see Jose Napoles in the ring and had the chance when Manrequilla fought the rematch with Billy Backus. It was the replay that was shown on the tube the following week.I told my father that Napoles had regained the title but I still wanted him to Jose in action. My father was either experiencing in the initial stages of losing his hearing or he put me on the pay no mind list. He's watching the replay like it's a "live" fight.
"You mean to tell me that Backus is Carmen Basilio's nephew and his manager? Well,Backus must be pretty good or Carmen would have nothing to do with him."(I remember when they asked Basilio about what he thought about bringing his nephew to town to fight Napoles in front of all those Latin aficianados."You don't know how hot our dago blood can get.I could give a s--t where we fight this guy")
I was trying to imagine my father's reaction when the finale came around.

Well Napoles slowly began to dismantle the kid and by the 85h round you could have knocked him over with a feather.As my father is watching all this transpire he ain't saying a word.Finally,the docs and Carmen and Backus' manager Tony Graziano(I think he was also related to Backus-a 3rd uncle on his grandmother's side or something like that) had seen enough and they put on that old record "Let's Call The Whole Thing Off."Now I'm waiting for dear 'ol dad to come up with one of his standard alibi's.
"What was that other guy's name?"he asked.
"Jose Napoles."
"Napoles?Well he must be Italian."(My father's bloodline going back to Naples)
Well,after that conclusion my father walked away from the TV whistling "When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie" as if his view of the world was still in focus.

There was no way I was going to make an attempt unravel his conception. Yeah,Jose Napoles is Italian and he was born in Naples and for all I know he was a hitman for Al Capone


Jose Napoles -an unknowing goomba

[dagosd2000]

I was kind of up in the air about tomorrow's fight with Lomo and Lopez. Neither guy pays my rent so I was going to sit my rear on the fence. . But just now I read a story about how Lomachenko has a sports psychologist with him and after every training session they go behind closed doors and have. I guess what you'd call, a private session.

Andale muchachito.Kick this cabrones ass!

[Alguiffer]

A Paisan From Cuba

After Carmen Basilio retired my father in a sense retired from following the fights anymore. There were no more paisans of any prominence on the scene so my father threw in the towel so to speak.He considered Patterson a "cheese champ" that couldn't have carried Marciano's spit bucket. Liston ,he thought was a phony with that scary attitude he carried around.Then came Clay and my father couldn't stand the P.T. Barnum act.I tried to impress upon him the Mexican fighters who were gaining respect and championships and he kind of shrugged them off though he did concede that they had guts.

I wanted my father to see Jose Napoles in the ring and had the chance when Manrequilla fought the rematch with Billy Backus. It was the replay that was shown on the tube the following week.I told my father that Napoles had regained the title but I still wanted him to Jose in action. My father was either experiencing in the initial stages of losing his hearing or he put me on the pay no mind list. He's watching the replay like it's a "live" fight.
"You mean to tell me that Backus is Carmen Basilio's nephew and his manager? Well,Backus must be pretty good or Carmen would have nothing to do with him."(I remember when they asked Basilio about what he thought about bringing his nephew to town to fight Napoles in front of all those Latin aficianados."You don't know how hot our dago blood can get.I could give a s--t where we fight this guy")
I was trying to imagine my father's reaction when the finale came around.

Well Napoles slowly began to dismantle the kid and by the 85h round you could have knocked him over with a feather.As my father is watching all this transpire he ain't saying a word.Finally,the docs and Carmen and Backus' manager Tony Graziano(I think he was also related to Backus-a 3rd uncle on his grandmother's side or something like that) had seen enough and they put on that old record "Let's Call The Whole Thing Off."Now I'm waiting for dear 'ol dad to come up with one of his standard alibi's.
"What was that other guy's name?"he asked.
"Jose Napoles."
"Napoles?Well he must be Italian."(My father's bloodline going back to Naples)
Well,after that conclusion my father walked away from the TV whistling "When the Moon Hits Your Eye Like A Big Pizza Pie" as if his view of the world was still in focus.

There was no way I was going to make an attempt unravel his conception. Yeah,Jose Napoles is Italian and he was born in Naples and for all I know he was a hitman for Al Capone


Jose Napoles -an unknowing goomba

This is a great story. I read your posts every day - in fact as my mobility was wanned a bit I look forward to your Classic American West Coast Boxing thread and your beautiful art work each day. My Father's two favorite boxers were Carmen Basilio and Jose Naples (I better also mention Willie Pep just in case the old man is viewing this from above - or below!). We drove from Buffalo to Syracuse to see every Billy Backus fight and were ring side when Backus stopped Naples for the title. I remember after the Backus loss they interviewed Naples in the Syracuse media and I remember him saying "I no fight in Syracuse ever again". Last January of 2020 I ran into Tony Graziano at the Alvarez-Seals card at Turning Stone casino which is located near Syracuse in Central NY. It was the occasion of his 98th birthday and he looked great! I went up to him and said, "Mr. Graziano, my Father introduced me to you 60 years ago". He smiled, gave me a very firm handshake and said "Kid, I am glad you stuck with the sport". Absolutely made my evening.

[Alguiffer]

Sorry about the spelling typos it should be Napoles in my message

[dagosd2000]

Sorry about the spelling typos it should be Napoles in my message

Alguiffer
Thank you for the kind words.It means much to me that you like my posts.More than winning some kind of award.

[dagosd2000]

The Real Macho Man

Back to my old man again. I was watching a fight on the tube.Hector Camacho was fighting Howard Davis.My father was passing through the living room and stopped for an instant to watch what I was watching.
"Who's that guy in the southpaw stance?"he asked.
"Hector Camacho.He calls himself the Macho Man."
"Well, he's one hell of a boxer,"he said continuing to wherever he was going.
Hector was undefeated and looked like he was headed for a title and making some big money.

I remember Davis came into the pros with a big rep. He was a dominant amateur fighter winning every tournament-AAU,Golden Gloves,you name it.. He won an Olympic gold medal in 1976 and was voted "Most Outstanding Fighter" to boot.He was in that 1976 class of Americans:the Spinks brothers,Ray Leonard,and Leo Randolph. His style was clean and smooth and he looked like a pro before he ever got rolling.He came out of the gate fast but then began hitting some bumps in the road. He went over to Scotland, and before a home crowd,Jim Watt pinned with his first loss. Then aways ahead Edwin Rosario nipped Davis at the wire winning on a split. People we beginning to wonder if Howard was made of the right pro stuff.In May of 1987 he was matched with the "Macho Man".It was a big fight for both these guys.What I recall is Camacho out boxed the boxer and won by a pretty fair margin.It sort of put Davis on the back burner and put Hector at the top of the bill of fare.

Camacho was now on every guys radar. I really don't have to get into this if you saw him at his best. With that classic southpaw stance,his balance,hand speed, and movement Camacho was the definition of efficiency. He wasn't on a kinetic energy trip like a bouncy Luis Rodriguez or a floater around the ring like a prime Ali.He didn't have the pedal to the metal. He used just enough juice to get things done.

But when Camacho referred to himself as being "macho" his take on that was he wasn't the gruff killer type like a Tyson or a Liston. He didn't fight nor appear to resemble those guys. No.Hector was "macho" because his personal view was that he was a sex object. There wasn't a female in the world that wouldn't succumb to his looks or his ways. With that little Curly Q dangling in the middle of his forehead,the slits up the sides of his sequin trunks,and that pouty mouth the guy was in love with himself and thought the girls would think likewise.Not only was he on every contender's radar but also in their crosshairs.

The next time I caught Hector on the tube was his fight with Tony Baltazar.One of the commentators was a pugnacious little lightweight named Greg Haugen. Tony's arsenal consisted mainly of a big left hook ,however he often put his right hand in mothballs. For a cutie like Camacho this didn't seem to be a cause for alarm. But by this time me and a lot of others wanted to see someone rearrange that curly on Hector's forehead. Greg Haugen was one of those others.Greg was waiting in line for a chance to do some hairstyling on Camacho but now he had to see if Tony had brought his clippers with him.Tony went into that fight empty handed. He looked like he just wanted to get things over with.I'll never forget after the first round ended and Tony gave Hector one of those little taps on the fanny as they went back to their corners.I thought Haugen was gong to jump into the ring.
"What did you do that for Tony?You're in there to fight not make friends,"yelled Greg.
Haugen was right. Camacho won in a breeze ,and Baltazar went on to lose three out of his next seven and calling it a career.

But then Hector signed to fight that ornery little guy ,Greg Haugen,at Caesars Palace. Haugen came into the fight with three losses-two against Vinnie Pazienza and a runaway decision defeat to 'Sweet Pea' Whitaker.I knew what Camacho was thinking.If Whitaker was hard for Haugen to find I'll be invisible.

Haugen wasn't blessed with talent like Camacho. He was crude in his attack.He didn't have that one punch KO power in either fist.His defense was I'll let you hit me so I can hit you.Hector thought it would be something like the Baltazar fight. But Haugen knew the only chance he had with Camacho was to mug him. Don't let him breathe.Stay on him.Throw punches non stop from all angles.To beat this pretty boy Greg had to act ugly. And that's what happened.Early in the fight Haugen ran into one and was on the seat of his pants but that only seemed to motivate him more.Camacho you could see wasn't ready for the assault and battery. He couldn't dig down and come up with anything to put the handcuffs on this guy. After 12 rounds, for the first time in his pro career, the referee wasn't looking to raise Camacho's hand at ring center.

In 2008 Greg Haugen was to be inducted into the World boxing Hall Of Fame.The site was the Marriott Hotel in Inglewood. The day before the presentation Greg Haugen stormed into the hotel lobby looking like he wanted to fight Hector Camacho again.He was all disheveled looking needing a shave and a clean set of clothes. He was ranting to himself incoherently and had everyone's eyes on him.I didn't know if he was drunk or high on something ,but he was just probably his usual self.However, nobody wanted to get near him fearing they might get a punch in the mouth.

The following afternoon Haugen had gotten himself together. He was all dressed up in a nice sport jacket and didn't have a trace of a hair in his face.He got up to the dais and made his speech. I was glad he got his plaque.He deserved the credit. And no one went home missing any of their teeth.


Greg Haugen

[dagosd2000]

But Ziggy It's Not An Exact Science

When I read that Lomachenko had a psychologist in his entourage,and was in session with him behind closed doors after workouts,the red flag was unfurled in front of my face.This guy is supposed to be the best P4P in the game,the toughest dude in the ring;and he's seeing a shrink?Right away I was on Lopez's side only because if Loma is what everyone was claiming why would he need to sit down(lie down?)with a psychologist?If that's the case THE PSYCHOLOGIST IS THE STRONGER OF THE TWO.

Funny how two fighters weigh in the same and then when they get in the ring one looks bigger than the other.Reminded me of Basilio and Fullmer.Gene looked like he had 15 pounds on Carmen.Lopez,before the first bell rang,you could see was bigger.From the get go Lopez set the tone. "Come on in and I have this pole axe jab I'm going to jump in your face.And then I'll whack you to the body and the head with my right".He had Loma was going backward(never seen that before).Back in his corner you could see the anxiety on his face.He knew he had to try something moving forward ,but that wasn't until the late middle part and and to his credit he let it all hang out.But Lopez stood his ground. The decision was fair but that female judge was too far off.All a worn out looking Loma could say when it was over was that he wanted to go home and he thought it should have been a draw,maybe.

Albert Einstein and Sigmund Freud became friends.Einstein had finally won his Nobel Prize in some sort of science. Freud wanted a statue too but the committee wouldn't even consider his stuff. Freud would sing the blues to Albert that he deserved the award. Einstein was fascinated with Freud's libidos,egos,ids all wrapped up in a dream,but he told Ziggy that unless he could prove his theories with a slide rule he wouldn't have that statue on his mantle.

I wonder if Loma is going to keep his shrink around?I mean what is the guy going to tell the ex champ now?But we don't know what he said to Loma behind locked doors. Maybe he told him he was going to get his ass kicked?

[dagosd2000]

The Bear

After Greg Haugan beat Hector Camacho,pinning the fist loss on the Macho Man,they put them together again in Reno for the WBO title,this time Greg wearing the crown. The fight was more like the first time they met.Haugan pressed Camacho who this time countered better, but you could tell he didn't like it when someone made him fight 'their" fight.At the final bell it was close again.But I think the money makers knew that Camacho was a bigger meal ticket than Haugan.This time the split decision went the other way with Hector saying "I want my crown back."However Greg Haugan wasn't about to come apart at the seams. He was still in the mix and wanted to show everyone that he could fight with the best of them.He won four straight after the that including roughing up a spent Ray Mancini stopping him in 7 frames. Then things got interesting..

In 1993 there was no doubt that Julio Cesar Chavez was the best fighter ever to come out of Mexico.He was also the best fighter in the world. it was a time when the great Mexican champions were abandoning their "patria" to defend their championships in the United States. That's where the big money was..Before,a champion for instance like Ruben Olivares would have the title but throw his countrymen a bone by fighting a non title fight or a lesser defense in Mexico. But because of the risk that anything could happen(Napoles/Muniz I for example) the big money would be frittered away with the upset so the aficianados were having o watch their kings fight from the other side of the castle wall.Julio Cesar Chavez wanted to do something special for his amigos back home.

The WBC decided to make Mexico happy by matching their champ, Chavez, in a title fight in the largest sports venue in the Western Hemisphere,Estadio Azteca located in the capital, Mexico City.Well,they didn't want to go overboard and have him fight a guy like Camacho again or Meldrick Taylor in a rematch. Pernell Whitaker was on the horizon but they'd save that one for U.S. audiences.So they offered the chance to Greg Haugan.And Haugan was more than happy to make Mexico miserable-so he thought.

Haugan was the perfect foil for this one. He was an American. He didn't take to the Latino image of the macho man.(Remember he made life hard for a guy with that moniker) And to add icing on the cake Greg liked to shoot his mouth off.He starts the build up by saying that Chavez's record of 84 and zero was amassed on a bunch of "Tijuana cab drivers."He really knew how to touch a nerve. Here he is going to fight in front of 132,000 crazies who will be let in the gate free of charge!But this time Greg wasn't going to fight a pretty boy like Camacho. He was going to do battle with a guy that fought like he did-only doing a better job at it. Chavez had mowed down the "pretty' and the" tough" like Pancho Villa leading the charge at the Battle Of Zacatecas.You could bet that every TV set in Mexico would have the dial tuned in for this war.

I could have stayed home to watch the fight but I wanted to get some salsa on my taco so I took a spin down to Tijuana.Every bar had it on .Every bar was also packed to the doors. I figure I could let my hair down, so to speak, if I picked a place in The Coahuila,the red light district. It couldn't have been a more apropos setting. There's a saying in Mexico that goes something like this.
"Un hombre como un oso es mas hermoso."(A man who looks like a bear is more handsome)
Julio Cesar Chavez prided himself on how he saw his looks-ugly. He relished in the fact that he was ugly or at least tried his hardest to fill that image."Macho" is more manly. Being ugly is more alluring to the opposite sex than being pretty. "Good looking "even takes a back seat to being ugly. And I was going to watch this fight in the ugliest part of town.

I walked around the Coahuila saying "Eenie meanie miney mo" and finally smelled a place that I thought was justifiably ugly. It was down a flight of steps and I could hear the raucous out into the street. The sign on the door read "El Fracaso."-The Failure.I had already got a snootfull in me by the time I stumbled down the stairs.The air was steamy and close and body odor was the bouquet of the day.The jukebox was amped up full blast.The brown liter bottle bottles of Corona(called Cahuamas) were spread over the tables in mass,and the whores were attired in their miniest of mini skirts. The girls weren't the best looking.Most of them were fat or to old to work in joints like the Adelita or Las Chavelas where the 19 year olds from the south of Mexico left home to make some money to send back to their mothers or their two kids. Being a female and being ugly wasn't a plus working in a whorehouse..Sometimes the girls that peddled their hips in a place like the El Fracaso would sit down next to you and start rubbing your crotch and ask what it was like in those swanky joints like The Adelita.

I had one next to me and bought her a drink.(most of the time the waiter would bring over a glass of orange juice and pretend it was a screwdriver.The screwing would come later)Then the waiter,after getting my money,would split the money with the girl.They called this maneuver "la ficha"-the split.There was a small TV behind the bar.The sound was on but you couldn't hear it because of all the noise. I was in there like all the other "hombres" to watch the fight.When the two combatant got into the ring the horde of "hombres' hustled their way to the television. All the girls were left at the tables by themselves with their rolls of toilet paper and "snapping' their gum.
"Pinchi cabrones,"I heard one of the girls snarl."I never make any money when there's a fight.Pinchi cabrones!"
I could really sympathize.Even if Chavez was ugly like a bear those girls couldn't have given a s--t.


Julio Cesar Chavez and another "Bear"-Kid Azteca

[dagosd2000]

The Thing About Conjecture

I have an edition of the Ring Record Book(1983).Under Luther McCarty's record there is a comment(I assume by editor Nat Fleischer)saying that if McCarty had lived he would have eventually become the World Heavyweight Champion.McCarty died inside the Tommy Burns Arena in Calgary in a fight with Arthur Pelkey that didn't last a round.A coroners' inquiry concluded that McCarty didn't die from a blow by Pelkey and that McCarty had entered the ring with a fractured neck caused by a previous injury. It was assumed that McCarty's injury resulted from being kicked in the head by a horse.(He was a cowboy)The year was 1913.Jack Johnson was the world champ.

The fight with Pelkey was billed the "White Heavyweight Championship Of the World."When McCarty was pronounced dead Pelkey broke down and sobbed uncontrollably.The next day the Tommy Burns Arena was burned down-probable cause arson.Pelkey went on to fight 32 more times winning only 8.

I'm sure that Johnson and McCarty would have come together sometime in the future.McCarty's sole blemish on his record was a disputed draw with Jess Willard in the old Madison Square Garden in New York.In 1915 Willard would get into the ring with Johnson in Havana,Cuba and finally the white race would have their champion back again.

But to get back to the Ring Magazine's comment about if McCarty had lived he would have been "World" champ.Would he have fought Johnson?Or someone else?

I think about what the world is going through today and try to find a place in my mind for conjecture. Sometimes I read the comments on the forum about "Who was the best,the worst,and should so and so be in the Hall Of Fame."Again ,conjecture.I read one the other day when someone reacted and said this guy's opinion was something bordering on the ludicrous and he sucked a lot of dick.

I don't think Luther McCarty could have beaten Jack Johnson but that doesn't make me a cocksucker


Jack Johnson

[dagosd2000]

An Italian In Town

I can say that I saw Promo Carnera in the ring-the wrestling ring.After a non illustrious career as a fighter Da Preem went into the show biz world of wrestling -the Hollywwood type. He came to San Diego to put on his act at the San Diego Coliseum.I liked the wrestling as much as the fights.To tell the truth there weren't many good fighters climbing through the ring ropes back then. However,the wrestling characters were as high profile as you could ask for.

When Carnera blew into town he wound up in one of the local television studios to do an interview to hype his upcoming match.I was familiar with his career as a fighter.I wasn't that much interested in what he did in his grappling togs. For me he was a curiosity piece. I remember the interview.The host of the show was the guy who did the sports on the evening news.I can't remember his name.it's not that important. San Diego back then was an end of the line whistle stop. The only thing there was to talk about was the Pacific Coast League San Diego Padres and how your local high school football team was faring on the gridiron.

Both Carnera and the show's host were standing beside one another. Carnera looked haggard.He seemed that he was in a place he was unfamiliar with and just wanted to get the interview over and go back to the hotel.Instead of this local scribe asking him about his upcoming bout he lit in with something really dumb.
"Is it true that you were controlled by gangsters?"
Carnera looked down at the little twerp and before the guy could go on Carnera stepped on his foot.
"I a no wanna talk about dat.I wanna talk about my match,"he countered.
But this guy wouldn't let go.
"But isn't it true that you were in fixed fights?"
Now you could see Primo's anger begin to percolate.
"I a no wanna talk about dat I told you.It's not true anyway so don't ask me no more about dat."

There wasn't much follow up. Carnera talked about who he was going to wrestle. That part I can't remember.-the name of the guy he was paired with.Carnera wasn't even in the main attraction.The feature match was Freddie Blassie and Mr. Moto.

I went to the Coliseum with some friends that night to take in the matches. When Carnera got into the ring he didn't get a big hand. He was the "good guy" but the applause was weak. The other wrestler got the same reception. The enthusiasm was going to be saved for Freddie Blassie and Mr. Moto.Carnera wore gray wrestling togs and his style was pedestrian,He wasn't nimble,lacked the luster,and was not very entertaining to watch. Carnera pinned his guy and got it over with. He never wrestled in San Diego again.

My friends weren't interested in knowing Primo Carnera. Wrestling fans are no boxing fans. To my friends Primo Carnera was just a boring wrestler.

But from a fight fan's perspective Carnera was as big as his bulk.But that enormity encompassed controversy and shame.He was back then,and still today,the least respected of all the heavyweight champs.Some don't even consider him to be authentic.He's the heavyweight champ with the asterisk beside his name.He began his pro career in Italy were he sopped up the opposition like dipping bread in mama's gravy. He then came to America where the wise guys knew that the dagos on the east coast would fill arenas to see this giant destroy his opponents.But first he needed to build a rep. He couldn't do that in the big venues in the east. So they took Primo west of the Mississippi to fight no names in burgs like Galveston and Grand Rapids. Primo wanted his manager from The Boot with him, Leon See.The irony was that Primo and Leon believed that the big guy's conquests were on the level. Finally,Carnera is allowed to fight in Madison Square Garden in New York against the popular Ernie Schaaf. Schaaf dies in that fight. The damage was more that likely the result of blows administered by Max Baer previuosly,but the scribes hyped it up as this King Kong Killer from Sequals that put an end to Ernie Schaaf. The world was now ready for Primo to fight for the crown.

The champion ,Jack Sharkey, wasn't the biggest draw in the world. The fight as slow.Primo lumbered around the ring.Jack was overly cautious.In the 6th frame Carnera threw what looked like an uppercut and I guess it landed somewhere on Sharkey and the fight was over.Primo was the champ and the wise guys went to the bank.But now they they turned their backs from him.They couldn't keep up the charade for much longer anyway. People sensed there was something rotten in Rome. After two defenses(one was the biggest weight difference in a heavyweight championship fight against Tommy Loughran)Carnera got his exposure to the real fight world when Max Baer had him bouncing up and down like a Jack In The Box back in Madison Garden Bowl.

After losing the title Carnera became mostly a set up guy.Joe Louis got his jollies making Primo scream every time the Brown Bomber unloaded one of his left hooks on him.In the end Primo Carnera was a fighter that the fans either snickered at or wished he'd miss that boat to America.

But my friends watching him wrestle at the San Diego Coliseum that night didn't know any of that. They wouldn't have cared.All they wanted to see was Freddie Blassie and Mr. Moto put on their show.


Primo Carnera

[goose 5]

Bruno Sammartino called Carnera the strongest man he ever knew. Carnera accidently knocked out Lou Thesz during one of the matches when he failed to pull a punch. The next time they wrestled, Thesz broke Carnera's leg-and that was no accident.

[dagosd2000]

Bruno Sammartino called Carnera the strongest man he ever knew. Carnera accidently knocked out Lou Thesz during one of the matches when he failed to pull a punch. The next time they wrestled, Thesz broke Carnera's leg-and that was no accident.

Goose
Bruno Sammartino-my favorite wrestler(along with Argentina Rocca),and you're right,he was one strong dude!

[dagosd2000]

Extra Innings

When the American League pennant winners the 1919 Chicago White Sox decided to play ball with the gamblers headed by the notorious Arnold Rothstein they entered the World Series with the National League champions Cincinnati Reds behind the eight ball. The Chi Sox had decided to a man(with the exception of 2nd baseman Eddie Collins)to throw the series in order to bet against their team and make more money on the side. even They also wanted to aggravate owner Charles Comiskey who they considered a tight wad.The tension in the clubhouse had been brewing all year. Comiskey had been keeping players out of games so they couldn't achieve certain statistical figures with their averages , thus not able to cash in on their bonuses. Players demanded to be traded but this way before Curt Flood and free agency so the disgruntled would either play ball with Comiskey or go back to the farm and buck hay. So the fix was in and the White Sox lost the best of 9(back then it was series of 9 games)though the Chicago team played well enough to not cause suspicion,at least on the surface. But like that old saying"loose lips sink ships"the word got around the league that the Chicago boat was full of holes. A grand jury was convened in 1920.Enough witnesses testified that the series was as crooked as White Sox ace Eddie Cicotte's curve ball.The trial got under way in 1921.

But we have to remember that the trial was in Chicago and things like good government bull s--t didn't exist in The Windy City then(I still don't think it's arrived).We also have to take in account that Arnold Rothstein's syndicate was comprised of two dagos who wanted to make a big score-Al Capone and my grandfather Diamond Joe Esposito. At that time Capone was learning how to run the rackets under my grandfather's tutelage. Trials indicting characters like the ilk that ran Chicago were not uncommon but no one went to jail. .Jury members could be bribed,judges could fall asleep at the helm,and witnesses would be found floating face down in Lake Michigan. My grandfather provided the Sox's defense lawyers-Michael Ahern and Albert Fink.They were the same two who twelve years later defended Al Capone on his tax beef but were persuaded by Frank Nitti that it would be better for Al to serve his time in Atlanta because the syphilis had begun to eat his brain.Fink and Ahern's defense hinged on the idea that Al was in hock to his bookies and had lost his fortune feeding the horse at Washington Park. (Bye Bye Al.Hello Frank.)

Well guess what.The jury deliberated for three hours and came back with "Not Guilty".Now it was cause to celebrate. But where to have the party?How about my grandfather's joint,the Bella Napoli an South Halsted.Oh every wise guy in a pinstriped suit with a heater bulging behind the breast pocket was there including the White Sox(minus Eddie Collins)to drink the dago red and twirl spaghetti on their forks.Ruth Etting was on stage and she wasn't singing the blues.

But all this good fun as like throwing dirt to in the face of America's Pastime. After the dust cleared the league hired a commissioner by the name of Judge Mountain Landis.He didn't give a hoot nor a howl about that trial.it was fixed just like the World Series of 1919.He banished all those round ballers who were on the gangsters team from the game for life. Thus to be known as "The Black Sox Scandal."

You might be wondering about whatever happened to the boys who played "foul ball." Nothing.They went on their merry ways breaking the law and getting filthy rich.But in the end the bad guys always get their just dues. Arnold Rothstein was assassinated in mid town Manhattan.It was said that he didn't want to pay his poker debts. I don't think he was playing "peny ante."Al Capone wound up going to jail losing his mind to the microbes of the disease that was feeding on his brain that made him get into s--t fights with the other prisoners. And my grandfather Diamond Joe?Well,walking back from an hod carriers union meeting(Diamond Joe was the boss) a car slowly pulled up alongside him a block from his house
"Hey buddy,"said Dimey."You gotta' flat tire?"
The Varchetti brothers,his body guards, hit the pavement.Then two guys with sawed off shotguns leaped out the door and pumped 56 garlic soaked slugs into him.

The only guy who came out smelling like a rose was Eddie Collins.He got inducted into The Hall of Fame In 1939.


My grandfather,Diamond Joe Esposito

[dagosd2000]

A Breath Of Fresh Air

If you grew up a boxing fan in the Southland names like Hedgemon Lewis,"Indian Red" Lopez,and Armando Muniz are household names.They were three LA welterweights who could fight with the best in the division but found that the championship was just out of their reach. Oh,they had their opportunities, but for some reason or another they never wore that crown.I won't add Carlos Palomino to that list because Carlos went over to jolly 'ol England and had the current champJohn Stracey,the man who finished off the great Jose Napoles(Well,by that time "Mantequilla" was getting a bit rancid)gasping for air on all fours in the Empire Pool Ring in Wembley.The aforementioned all took turns beating on each other,but Lewis,Lopez,and Muniz never won the title. Today, with all these different belts I'm sure that all those guys could have had their picture taken wearing some band of glitz around their midsections.

But of the three it was Muniz who will go down in history of getting one the shortest of the short ends in the annals of boxing history. Of course we're remembering the calamity that transpired in Acapulco when Armando made Jose Napoles quit after kicking the s--t out of him for 11 rounds.Naploes could hardly hold himself up. The ring was crowded with chaos. For a few moments Armando's head must have been swimming only to have the referee,Ramon Berumen, and Jose Suiaiman,who was Ramon's uncle,toss Armnado an anchor.If you don't know what happened that night then why are you reading this because you're probably not a fan of boxing.If you search the internet you'll find a plethora of that night's account. Don't worry about groping in the dark. Finding something about that fight is like finding fleas on a mangy dog. it won't take but a moment before you're bit.

I've heard Mando retell it several times when at the dais at these boxing functions in LA.He's been asked and he tells the story by rote. Sometimes I think he should just carry a little tape recorder around with him ,and then when asked, hit the switch and out comes the recount of that night's farce.Every time Mando is introduced at a gathering to say a few words,the emcee prefaces the moment with "The uncrowned champion."

It was a dirty deal all right. Every fighter dreams of being a champ.but the way Armando got shafted was not only one of those rare occasions but bizarre to top it all off.

A few years ago when I saw Jose Naploes in Ciudad Juarez I didn't have a set of questions ready for him on notecards.For sure he didn't know I was comin'.He really wasn't up to for anything too formal anyway. His life had been a full one.He had left his mark. He didn't seem like a guy who regretted too much.He was just living life in the moment sitting in front of his house smoking a Cuban stogie and waiting for his wife to come home from shopping.

But then I got to thinking about Armando. I'm sure Napoles was asked about that fight as much as Mando's ears got singed listening about it.But how to get something through without the usual"What did you think of..."So I knocked on the back door.
"By the way.I know Armndo Muniz."
Napoles put the cigar down and turned his smile into something more pensive.He looked at me with unsteady eyes.
"I feel bad about what happened.I had no idea that they would do that."
No particulars.it was the fight in Acapulco he was talking about.I didn't press him further.

A few years ago at Rick Farris' last West Coast Boxing Hall Of Fame Ceremony,Armando was being deservedly enshrined.After it was over I saw Armndo and told him of my encounter with Jose Napoles.
"Mando,I saw Jose Napoles in Juarez and asked him about the fight in Acapulco.He said he felt bad about what happened."
Armando stopped in his tracks and drew closer.His eyes went through me.
"You think if I saw him he'd say that to me?"
"Of course he would.He knew you deserved to be champion that night."
A slight smile then spread on his face and his shoulders relaxed. He began to breathe again.


Me and Mando