BoxRec

Thanks For The Memories

At the end when a fighter ends up punchy he doesn't remember almost anything. Burke Emery who fought in Canada and was for awhile the light heavyweight champ of the country remembered everything,or so it seemed, especially about his fights,Before the dementia got him. Then when it got him he couldn't remember anything. His grandkids would come to visit him in the home and he would start throwing things because he didn't know who they were;at least that's what his grandkids said.I went o visit him once and they told me that wouldn't be a good idea. He was fighting with everybody all the time.In the home he would ask were his girlfriend Shirley was but she had passed away long before that. When she died they had a memorial for her in Champs,their bar they owned together,(this was just before he was committed)and he was walking around asking where she was. But before the dementia took over he remembered everything..

My experience with fighters that get it is that it sneaks up and then wham!; it completely takes over. Then the guy needs somebody to watch over him.When it finally takes over they seem to develop two sides-an angry side and a silly one. Bobby Chacon was like that. He'd horse around like a bad little imp so you couldn't stop him,and then he'd flip the switch and get all pissed off over nothing. I saw him sitting next to George Chuvalo at a boxing convention signing autographs when suddenly Bobby went after Chuvalo because he thought that Chuvalo had stolen his pen.Chuvalo was all right with it. He knew that Bobby wasn't all there anymore. Besides, when you were in a room with Bobby Chacon you had one eye on him all the time,especially if he was close,because you never knew what to expect.

There are a lot of ex fighters today that worry about if they're going to get it. They look in the mirror.Some are afraid to go to the doc because they don't want o know that they have it;but then they are always wondering.Then when they get it they don't realize they have it.But everyone else else does. For the people that are close it's rough.

I saw film of Jerry Quarry at a testimonial in his honor. He was sitting besides his mother.You could see he was somewhere else-in another world. His mother did most of the talking.Then he interrupted her.He was on edge.
"It was too much football that I got this way,"he said.
The room fell silent.Then some guy in the back yelled out in a big voice.
"We love ya' Jerry!"
There were the typical huzzahs.

Someone once asked me if I could do it all over again if I would have given a shot at boxing.I go back and forth with that. Then they'll ask me if I would have gotten into managing fighters.I had that answer already rehearsed.
"I wouldn't have touched it with a ten foot pole."


George Chuvalo before being mugged by Bobby Chacon


Jerry Quarry

Looking For A Dart Player

When Burke Emery still had it together he'd be in his bar,Champs. looking over things.But most of it was to kill a time; Cleaning up and behind the bar serving drinks and talking to the customers.It was an older clientele. While the bar next door,the Bay View,had a bunch of hard body young split tails behind the counter (making sure they showed ample cleavage when leaning over to set your mango daquiri on the counter )it was ol' Burke slinging tap beer and house whiskey at Champs.

Burke's partner was his girlfriend Shirley and she was even older than Burke. I think she was a model once because there were some pictures of her around the walls in the bar looking like she was posing like a model but she was old in those pictures so it might have been for show only.But for an older gal Shirley had that poise and besides everyone knew she was Burke's squeeze and no one tried nothing. In the afternoons ol' Alice would come in but she sure wasn't employed to lure the customers in like a Gilda. She had one of those stomachs that protruded farther out than her boobs and her rear but she was like one of the guys and fit in like a glove.She could talk sports,especially the football Chargers and when the owner Spanos moved the team she said she cried for three days.

Burke in the meantime would like to talk to anyone about anything and of course people knowing he used to be a fighter(surprisingly they didn't know that he trained fighters in town like Ronnie Wilson and Art Hafey) would bring up the topic of fighting. Sometimes it would get to be like the BoxRec forum but inside a bar. Burke ,however,woudn't initiate it. I think he was blue in the face talking about the "Who could beat who?".
"Who was better Joe Louis or Rocky Marciano?" or
"What do you think of Muhammsa Ali?"

Most of the questions aimed at Burke were of the rhetorical ilk. The asker already had the answer in his mind.Burke would either give his response or he was cut off by the guy who threw him the curve.But it was all in a day's pay for Burke. If someone wanted to say Archie Moore was bum ,Burke would smile and then start wiping the countertop with a towel.

You see Burke never took that stuff too seriously. "Who could beat who?"Burke wasn't the type to waste a lot of energy on hypothetical things. But what he was interested in was finding someone to play darts with.The guy loved darts. Maybe it was because he was from Canada and they played a lot of darts in Canada.Burke would organize tournaments on the weekends and he drew a pretty good crowd. He was in the middle of all of it and you could see he was having the time of his life.

One Friday night the back room was packed and everyone was flinging darts and guzzling pitchers of beer. You couldn't have gotten Burke away from all the fun if you had a crowbar.I liked to watch more than participate. I wasn't very good and to tell the truth didn't see much in it. So I'm taking it all in sitting on a bar stool when this guy comes over to me reeling on 86 proof legs.
"Tell Burke I want to see him ,"He asks me.
I took a look at this guy and was getting a little sore.
"If you want to see him you go over there by yourself."
"Well, he don't like it when someone interrupts his dart game."
"So you want me to go over?",I said starting to work up a boil.
"I made a bet with this guy at the end of the bar.He said Archie Moore beat Joe Louis once in a fight and I say he didn't.I want Burke to settle it."
"I'll tell you what. I'll go over and ask him and tell you what he says. If he says Archie Moore never beat Joe Louis you give me half the money."
"Ok.It's a deal."
I left my stool and walked to the back room but instead of asking Burke I went to take a leak.When I came back I told the guy Archie Moore never beat Joe Louis.
"So go over and collect.How much did you bet?"
"A dollar."
"I'll tell you what.You tell your friend that Burke said that he don't allow no gambling in his place and if you want to not get kicked out of here tonight your friend has to buy a round of drinks for everyone sitting at the bar."
"But he didn't say that."
"No. But if you want to come in here again you better get him to cough up."
The next thing you knew everybody had a refill in front of them.


Burke and me not playing darts.

Weight Makes Them Great

Many years ago I was reading an article in Ring Magazine about the Thai Chrtchai Chionol,who was the flyweight champion of the world getting a pounding from his father in law.The news took me aback a little because here I'm figuring that he's the flyweight champion of the world and he should be able to take care of himself.Now we know that sometimes Billy Conn ,who was the light heavy champ, would get into it with his father in law because the old man thought the apple of his eye shouldn't have married a pug, but Billy could handle himself against the dad even if the old man had one too many Irish whiskeys in him. In fact Billy hit the old guy so hard that he busted his hand clocking him on top of he head. Billy broke his hand that resulted in the rematch with Joe Louis to be called off. They had to wait until after the war to resume the fisticuffs in the ring.But getting back to Chionol.

The story in Ring Magazine described the wuppin' in real humiliating terms. They called Chionol "a boy" who was "brutaiized" by this big monster of a daddy in law. I can't recall the reason for the fight but it sounded one sided to say the least.Now you wonder why the "small" men in the ring don't get the print like the bigger guys. Sometimes I think the reality sets in when you see a flyweight fighter in person. Your instincts say "I can kick this guy's ass."

I saw Ray Leonard in person once when he was still one of the 4 Kings and I said to myself this guy would have his hands full in a street fight.Weight makes a hell of a difference if things are going to settled in the back of an alley.,unless you're Bruce Lee. But I ain't putting any money on him either if he's going at it with a Hell's Angel surrounded by Harleys.

In the Golden Age of the small fighters (I'm talking flyweight through lightweights)and that was in the 60's into the 80's ,a guy like Duran or Sanchez got a lot of respect. Today the best small guys don't get much print. Remember the wars between Fernando Marquez and Ivan Vasquez? It didn't get any better than that for toe toe nonstop action. But you'd have to a real fan to talk about those fights over drinks in the local bar.This fight with Figueroa and Nery last Saturday. Objectively, it had to go down as one of the all time exchanges in the history of boxing. But what do we hear? Some boxing organization says that Fury must fight Wilder again or they're gong to strip him of some title.. Who cares? I guess all the fans who keep their eyes focused on the big men.

But if you're looking for the real reason it's probably because I don't think Tyson Fury's father in law can beat him up;if he's got a father in law.


Tyson Fury

I remember watching a bunch of flyweight bouts in Tijuana. I was sitting ringside and to get a good view of the combatants I had to look between the ropes to see what was going on. The fighters heads didn't clear the top rope.

Another thing that gets me are the names for these lightest weights-Straw,Minimum,Fly. Doesn't sound very imposing.But by changing the name isn't going to make these guys any bigger.
"A flyweight by any other name..."

Bobby would have had to climb a ladder to hit Andre

The Godfather

My father must have broken some law when he took me to the Chicago Stadium to meet my godfather. My godfather's name was Mike Murphy who was the Stadium's timekeeper for the fights.You ask what could have been the beef for my old msn to bring me to a boxing match?Well,I didn't know it but there was some ordinance that didn't allow little kids to go to the fights. I know they had the same laws in other cities.What didn't they want you not to see? Maybe they thought boxing was too gory a sport for little kids to watch.Didn't want blood to splatter on them.Imagine not letting a kid inside Yankee Stadium to watch Mickey Mantle play baseball?Afterwards, I figured my old man had enough clout being connected with The Outfit that nobody said nothing.

For starters I'll fill you in that I don't remember any of the fights only that I don't remember anyone getting knocked down.The clearest thing that comes to mind is my father introducing me to Murphy. Check this out .Mike Murphy's brother was a priest.He married my grandfather,Diamond Joe,and my grandmother,Carmela. (He also married my father and mother)Something about Italian women.They never used their real first names.They always had another moniker. My grandmother liked to be called "May."

But getting back to Mike Murphy. He was connected with The Outfit. If he knew if there was going to be one of those "funny" fights he'd pass the word along to the right people.His brother the priest was also an earner for The Mob. Yeah,even priests went along to get along,and score. This is how it worked.If someone dropped dead and didn't have any family then his assets had tp be counted by the state assessor.If the deceased was a Catholic, Father Murphy would attend the count. But he would work with the state assessor and when they did the summing up both Father Murphy and the assessor had their hands in the till.Who would think like a nice Catholic priest would involve himself with such sordid activity?

I only remember seeing my godfather,Mike Murphy, that one time.I remember his brother the priest more because he was the head of St. Mary's Catholic school in the neighborhood where I went for a spell. Somehow I got to be an altar boy. That's where I stole the key to Father Murphy's cabinet and got my first taste of the vino(they called it "The Blood Of Jesus).But don't think that most of that wine into Sunday's chalice. It went into Father Murphy's gullet. He died an alcoholic wreck.

So there you have it-fixed fights,stealing from the dead,and getting s--t faced on "The Blood Of Jesus."Somehow no one thought much of it.


The old Chicago Stadium

A Timepiece In Our Time

Many years ago a poster asked me who was my favorite subject to paint,at least in the boxing category.Without hesitation I answered Joe Louis. I don't usually paint from memory. I use a picture as a model and go from there.
"Well,"asked the poster.What was your favorite picture of Joe Louis?"
"They were all good."
Joe Louis was never in a bad picture. Joe Louis was the most unpretentious man I ever ran across.From the time I met him standing in front of Caesars Palace when he was a greeter for Ash Resnick and here he is asking my opinion about who I thought was the greatest fighter and he ain't baiting me because when I said "Joe Louis" he said Muhammad Ali". It was Ali that everyone in the beginning except Joe Louis said wouldn't survive Louis' punches and Ali took offense.He called him names and treated him like Archie Moore but you got to understand Joe Louis wasn't super sensitive like The Mongoose.His ego didn't bruise like Archie's, and in the end Louis and Ali became close. It took Ali awhile to see what kind of man Joe Louis was.Moore refused flat out.Joe Louis was of the ilk that thought the early Ali couldn't stand up to a fuselage of hard punches.But then there was the exile and Ali came back and showed the world that" I'm not the fastest anymore but I can take a punch." and he took it like no other heavyweight who ever fought. He wasn't a fake like Liston who left us with questions when he couldn't scare the other guy before the fight started.But Ali at the end would climb through the ring ropes a swollen butterfly who couldn't make it off the ground.And Angelo Dundee let him stay in there instead ,his blood vessels crashing against the inside his skull, instead of putting his arms around him and saying "You don't have to prove to anyone that you're The Greatest."

Joe Louis understood what Ali was all about as Muhammad was getting to know himself.They talk about Frederick Douglass and Booker T. Washington and I tip my hat. But I bow to Joe Louis. There were no ulterior motives when Joe Louis spoke. Oh,he wasn't a shouter from the mountain tops but he could scale anything on earth.He wasn't eloquent but he was The Poet,undtsated and magical..He didn't try to make a speech but he's quoted more tan the others. The Civil Rights leaders stepped into the ring next but Joe Louis got there first and could fight better than all of them..He was ahead of them because he was himself.No big oratories. He just went through life living as a big man and he didn't know it. Everyone else saw it but he didn't know it or cared.

Ask a good ol' boy red neck back in the day and he won't have nothing that bad to say to kick Joe Louis to the curb.
"Just don't come knocking on my door and want to take my daughter out."

I knew his adopted son when he was on the school time. His dad was dead by then. I wish I could have known Joe Louis. .I hope his adopted son could have shed some light but I was never pushy.. Just hang around.Observe and listen .The ol' fly on the wall.Like i did with Archie Moore. The difference was Joe louis would listen to what you had to say. He was a klisener.Archie wanted to let you know that he knew everything. That wasn't so important with Joe Louis.He even had to ask me who the greatest fighter was.Archie was different.He'd just tell you and the discussion was over.If you asked Archie Moore the time he'd tell you how they made the clock.Joe Louis was the clock.

The Bus Station

the Greyhound Bus Station used to be in back of the Pickwick Hotel on lower Broadway,. It wasn't much of a bus station. It wasn't much of a hotel.The bus station was in the parking lot and it was small and only had room for three or four buses. It was hiding in the back and you couldn't see it from the street.The Pickwick Hotel was an old building. I think around ten stories tall. My uncle Joe had a room there. It had one of those beds you pulled out from the wall and he used a hot plate to cook on.My uncle never had a car.He'd walk to Bompensiesro's joint where he tended bar. Bompensiero's place was one of the last bars that wasn't one of those Asian bars that had those skinny Asian chicks working with the dresses with the slits up the sides. They'd spread the papers out on the pool table and would look to see what ships were in port. They really knew how to hustle the sailors but those guys were so horny it didn't take much to empty their wallets by 2 am.My uncle used to brag that he didn't tend bar in one of those "chink joints"but Bompensiero's bar was a dump anyway.Instead of sailors the clientele was winos,pickpockets, and various low lifers.

Anyway, I'm standing out back of The Oickwick waiting for one of those Greyhound buses because I got my draft notice to go to LA to the induction center and get sworn into the Army. There was around 80 of us standing around shaking our heads stunned believing that we wouldn't be coming back to San Diego for some time.I'm standing there thinking about ways I'm going to get out of this mess when I see a familiar face..A few feet away I see Ronnie Wilson standing alone holding a suitcase. I made my approach.
"Hey.What are you dong here?"I asked sneaking up from behind.
"Hey ,Roger.I'm going up to Las Vegas for a fight.,"he said grinning ear to ear."It's good to see you.Where are you going?"
I told him my situation with the draft board and he seemed a little disappointed that we weren't going on the same bus.
"Who are you going to fight?"I asked him.
"Polo Corona,"he answered.
"Didn't you just fight him?"
"Two weeks ago."
"So can't Sid get you someone else?"
"He says I'll beat him again and besides it's an easy 15 hundred dollars."
"By the way where is Sid?"
"He's already up there with Johnny. They had a fight with Phil in Portland so they'll meet me there."
"How about your father in law?Will he work your corner?"
Me and him are on the outs right now."
"Why's that?"
"Me and his daughter are having problems."
I thought I'd let that alone but it wasn't hard to put together.
"So you looking forward going to Vietnam?"he joked changing the subject
"I ain't goin'.I got it all planned out.I'll tell the shrinks I took LSD and that I tried to kill myself and I'll answer all the questions wrong on the IQ test."
"I think they've seen that stuff before."
"Well,I aint goin'.I've made up my mind."
Just then a guy in a uniform yelled that he wanted all the guys who were gong to the induction center to file in line and get ready to go.
"Looks like they want you,"said Ronnie laughing. "It's time to give those gooks a licking,"
"you watch.I'll be back in San Diego before you."
Ronnie shook my hand and gave me a sarcastic salute.
"So long Audie Murphy,"he said laughing

Well,I got up there no problem and felt I was on a conveyor belt going through all the processing. I remember the induction center was in skid row and the thought entered my mind that no one was gong to care what I did to try to get out of the Army.I did everthing I said I was going to do-told the shrinks I took LSD and tried to kill myself,peed on the floor instead of in the jar,and didn't answer one question on the IQ test correctly.When it all finished the NCO came out to tell us that we were all in Uncle Sam's army except me. I watched all the others mope their way into a big room to take the oath.But even though I said I'd get out I was a little stunned.I asked the NCO why I was passed up. He looked me up and down and then read to me what was on the report.
"You were 32 pounds overweight for your height thus you're to much of a fat f--k to kill gooks."

So it was just me and the driver going back to San Diego.The first thing I did when I got home was to grab the TV Guide to see if Ronnie Wilson's fight was on the tube. It wasn't. I wished I knew the number of The Silver Slipper where he was fighting. The next morning I looked through the sports page of the paper to see who had won the fight. There was nothing. I saw Ronnie in the gym on Monday. He told me he won. Then he asked me why I wasn't going to Vietnam to kill gooks.I told him that the the Army didn't want any crazy guys like me having a gun.


Ronnie Wilson

Etude*


Take it from me ,Archie Moore would have chucked fighting to be a jazz musician. More precisely a stand up bass player.Moorewould say "Old fighters get lazy."He was old and I guess looking for an easier place to land.I don't know what it was but fighters like Jack Johnson,Ezzard Charles,and Moore played the bass.They didn't read music but then a lot of jazz greats couldn't read a note. Dave Brubeck,Errol Garner,and Django Reinhhardt couldn't read music. Nor could Elvis and The Beatles.But if you have the ability to play(or a gimmick) it doesn't really matter.

Getting back to the three former champions I mentioned. The bottom line was that they were such great fighters they would have never come close to making the kind of money they did knocking the other guy's head off. When I was talking yesterday about Moore and Joe Louis and their contrasts,Archie Moore relished in being this old wiseguru who had a metaphysical insight into the nature of life. You could see that he would take a deep breath when asked a question and then go on returning a philosophical answer thatwould make Buddha green with envy.. He was a Winston Churchill of boxing. Joe louis didn't make speeches. That wasn't him. If anything, he did the asking and let you be Mr. Wizard. That would catch most people off guard or it would invite one to think Joe didn't know too much.Moore wanted you to know that he possessed life's set of keys.Louis didn't care about being quoted but like the venerable and funny Yogi Berra many of Louis' quips are legendary.

"If you have to tell someone who you are you're nobody."

"I don't like money but it quiets my nerves."

"Every man has got to figure to get beat sometime."

"Everybody wants to go to heaven but no one wants to die."

It's stuff off the top of his head.Underscored.,but prolific. Archie and Winston would rehearse their stuff.And after awhile it became tedious.(all I asked was the time and now I have to hear a discourse on how they made the watch) But one afternoon in Southeast San Diego at the local barbeque pit ,Huffman's, I dropped in to sink my teeth into some of their ribs and hot links and there was Archie sitting by himself making a mess of a plater of chicken. He caught me out of the corner of his eye and asked me to come on over.

I never heard Archie Moore talk that much about boxing. I don't know.Maybe if he was around a bunch of fighters he would talk fighting but he knew I liked music so he would engage me with gossiping about the stuff he liked(and me too)jazz.

There was a time he left fighting and went on the road with Lucky Thompson's group to play in the clubs.Less than a year later he was back in the ring again. He knew he couldn't have had built that big pool in his back yard that was shaped like a boxing glove keeping rhythm for a saxophone solo. People paid money to see him fight.Over a 140 KO's would bring his fans to him and want to know his secrets. But that afternoon in Huffmans ,Moore was seekng the truth from me,or at least my take on it.

"Who is the best reed man in jazz?"

"Does Art Tatum play better piano than Oscar Peterson?"

There was no way I was going to answer,"I don't know." So I threw out my chest and became The Burning Bush.

But like everything else if you got to tell them who you are you're nobody. If you can fight like a Joe Louis or a Archie Moore people will listen to you talk about anything.Even if it means that you don't know your ass from a hole in the ground.


One of the pictures that hung in Huffmans.Archie Moore and the owner,Ray Huffman. There's also one of Huffman and Muhammad Ali,but him being a Muslim I don't think he had any pork ribs

*Etude:a short musical composition,typically for one instrument,designed as an exercise to improve the technique or demonstrate the skill of the player.

The Wrong Guy Won

They still call it the "Fight Of The Century" but if you were some alien that landed here in a flying saucer and didn't know the difference between George Washington and George Liberace and saw the main even at Madison Square Garden on Monday March 8th,1971, ET would have wondered what all the fuss was about.Sure the build up to the fight was on a solid a foundation as there ever was the fight disappointed. Why? Because the wrong guy won.It's as plain as that.Joe Frazier didn't have the hearts and souls of the people behind him except for a few red necks who didn't care who beat Ali. It could have been Jerry Quarry or Chuck Wepner or Ed "Too Tall" Jones. Just so it was someone who would button the lip of of that guy from Louisville.The thing was that by 1971 the mood of the country had shifted towards what the Baby Boomers thought America should be like. Vietnam was wrong. Nixon was a criminal.And The Beatles sang better than Bing Crosby. Lucy was an old lady and Cher was the woman when we looked at undressed her with our eyes.

The script was all laid out but Ali was not what he used to be(and would never catch the lightning in the bottle)and Joe Frazier was on top of his game. As the fight progressed it was evident that what you saw with Muhammad against Ringo was not an aberration. He had left his legs in the Folley fight 3 and a half years ago before Uncle Sam wanted him to serve his country.But Ali didn't want to kill anyone that never called him a n----r at least in English.So he sat it out with his lawyers. You saw him on TV shows.He roamed the country making speeches that were attended by mostly white kids who applauded and shouted when Muhammad called white people "Devils."

But I want to focus not so much on what you were going to see from Ali in the ring( till he could hardly balance himself against Trevor Berbick )as the "call" of the fight on the screen by Don Dunphy,Burt Lancaster,and Archie Moore. It was a bigger let down than the fight.Don Dunphy has to go down as one of the nicest guys connected with boxing.When Benny Paret sagged on the ropes after Emile Griffith's non stop pummeling,eyes swollen and shut,the first thing Dunphy said was that Mrs. Paret shouldn't worry. Her husband would be all right.Maybe it was reflex by Dunphy but you could see something very bad had just happened. My issue with Dunphy was that he knew very little about boxing.He announced all the big fights,but the game had passed him by. He couldn't have taught a class on "Boxing 101" to a bunch of kindergartners.As I watched the fight I thought he had the screen tuned to another fight.If Ali blew his nose on Frazier Dunphy would laud it as a devastating wallop. The poor guy was lost from the get go. But the figure that got me was Lancaster. I guess he was picked because was the promoter's favorite actor. For me he was one of the biggest hams in Hollywood.Well,he didn't let me down. He put on his Elmer Gantry clothes and everything that spewed from his mouth reminded me of Moses shouting the Ten Commandments atop Mt. Sinai. At least Dunphy had the air of sincerity in his voice. Burt baby was going for Oscar number 2.Now for my buddy The Mongoose.Lately it sounds I've been dissing on the guy.Well,I have just a little bit. But I can't turn my back on him. I talk about his fancy rhetoric that was to gain favor with mostly white folks,but he did so much for fighters who were down on their luck it compensated for his rhetoric..He was a good man.A bit of a ham,but a good man.If I still walked the Catholic I'd bring him up to the priest on Friday when I went to Confession.But to sit their and listen To Dunphy describe something that wasn't happening and Lancaster trying to equate the fight with the Normandy Landing was vaudville. As for Moore he couldn't get a word out of his mouth except to agree with anything Lancaster was blustering.

I'm tellin' ya'.The wrong guy won.If Ali would had fought like Smokin' Joe anything that Burt Lancaster would have said about hitting the beach would have been copacetic.


Muhammad Ali

The Champion Who Never Was

By the time Jack Johnson had swept away the two most formidable white fighters to challenge him for the Heavyweight Championship of The World,Stanley Ketchel and Jim Jeffries in that order, the government decided in 1910 to intervene to get rid of this guy. They came up with a law called The Mann Act that said it was illegal to transport a woman across a state line for they purposes of prostitution.The whole thing was a set up because Johnson had taken his girlfriend ,Lucille Cameron across the line and had made whoopie . Lucy's mom was pissed and cooperated with the Feds with the prosecution,but Lucy balked and later she and Jackie boy got hitched.Before Cameron came into the scene Johnson had done the same thing with another woman by the name of Beth Schreiber. No one would have cared but both gals were whiter than fallen snow. So Jack made his his way on a liner to Paris where he also took his crown.There he trained on pork chops and champagne and defended his title fighting a draw with a black fighter named Jim Johnson- no relationship.That bout took place in 1913.Johnson by then you could have stuck a fork into. He was on the run and if he stepped foot back into the U.S. he was going to Leavenworth.

With all this on the table the scribes announced that Johnson had retired from fighting and that a new heavyweight champion was being searched to take over. The only requirement was that he be of alabaster skin.Somehow it got down to two fighters that definitely wouldn't be mistaken for Amos n' Andy.The fighters chosen were Al Palzer and Luther McCarty. The bogus championship was fought in Vernon,California with McCarty stopping Al in the 18th round.

By then let's face it,everything was up in the air. White folks wanted to buy it but in their hearts they knew Johnson would either have to be beaten in the ring or hanged to cede the title.So the government had hood winked Jack and said if he came back to the Western Hemisphere and defended his title he could see his sick mother ,but then it got cloudy.Would he still be the champ or would he go to jail?Well,Jack's mother passed before he could say good by, but he did get the opportunity to defend his title.This was in 1915 inside a race track in Havana. Jack was stopped by a big lug named Jess Willard.Now the world was back in its proper orbit.But in the meantime what happened to Luther McCarty?



In 1913 while Jack Johnson was having fun in Gay Paree McCarty put his flimsy title on the line in Calgary ,Canada against a fella' named Arthur Pelkey inside the Tommy Burns Arena that was an old barn. Everybody was saying that Luther was going to be the man to replace Johnson. Jim Jeffries said he was the best of the white fighterst.McCarty was a big stud.-6 foot 4.Calm and cocky in the ring. Officially he had never lost a fight except for a few of those NWS decisions. He fashioned himself as a cowboy though he was from Nebraska. He was a square jawed good looker and he was a work in progress.No one thought that McCarty would blow it against Pelkey.

At the sound of the opening bell both boys moved towards each other.They fell into a clinch. Pelkey threw a short uppercut that looked harmless.Then McCarty pitched forward and fell facedown. The crowd started yelling "fake" but then when McCarty didn't move a muscle everyone knew that something was wrong. A doctor jumped into the ring.Eight minutes later McCarty was pronounced dead.Billy McCarney,Luther's manager,was beside himself. The medical conclusion was that McCarty had a cracked vertebrae in his neck when entered the ring as a result of being kicked by a horse.

So it was Willard who finally emerged as the best of the White Hopes.Pelkey broke down and finished his career getting stopped by just about everyone.Then there were all the "what ifs". Jim Jeffries said that McCarty would have gotten there.So did Nat Fleischer. In 1915 when Johnson was flat on his back looking up to the sun covering his eyes with his glove, he was ripe for the kill. But a prime Johnson would have been too sly and quick for a Luther McCarty or any fighter regardless of color.

So there you have it-a champion who never was. How about adding McCarty's name to that "great non champion thread?


Luther McCarty

Luther McCarty lying dead in the Tommy Burns Arena.The next day it was burned down.No one knew who did it.

A World Of His Own

After all these Bum Of The Month pugs Joe Louis was finishing off utilizing speed and dispatch with those six inch punches that Bruce Lee must have put in his scrap book when he was a kid, Louis finally found himself in a real fight with Billy Conn.Conn said he was gonna' beat him and he was.Joe had trouble with the good boxer and the Irishman was boxing his ears off. Louis liked to step in slowly ,get his feet right,and then uncork the snappy.But Billy was darting in and out prancing and dancing swinging punched from all angles. Joe was never very good at making adjustments. At times he looked unsteady ,confused staying with what he was trained to do hoping that Conn would err.

I don't have to tell you what happened in the 13th round. After the fight,sitting on a rubdown tablet in the dressing room, Billy tried to make a joke of it saying that it was his Emerald Isle genes that made him think he could go for the knockout.Billy tried to laugh it off.No one else followed huis cue.

It was a great fight. I think it was Don Dunphy's debut announcing.Nothing to write home about there.But the moment I treasured,a a few seconds of metaphor that in a thousand words wouldn't have done justice,was in the 10th frame,with people wishing they would have put some money down on Conn,suddenly Billy took a step back and lost his balance. He stumbled against the ropes his left leg buckling.,hands in disarray.

When Joe saw what had happened his reflexes told him to stop fighting. Let Billy reset.It was automatic. But the reflexes were only taking orders from some spiritual place somewhere inside Joe Louis. .Billy regained his balance. Louis made sure he was in place again.Then in the backround you could hear the applause. The fighters touched gloves and Joe continued his pedestrian path.Could you have seen Jack Dempsey giving Conn a break?Dempsey would have swarmed all over him like a nest of hornets.

Then in round 13 when Conn refused to clinch and hold after Louis was tagging him with those short bombs ,he finally fell dropping like a sack of flour failing to beat Art Donavan's ten count.But Louis didn't jump in the air or fall to his knees and go bonkers. No. He walked from his neutral corner towards Billy but could see that see that his adversary was still in Dreamland. So Joe just walked by him back to Chappie like he was going to the corner to mail a letter.

The pause to let Conn regain himself. The lack of frenzy when Joe pulled out the rabbit from the hat-it was better than the fight,or at least different. You can describe a fight by looking at it.You can see a man's soul when he's self-effacing.


10th round with Conn losing balance and Louis letting him off the hook,at least for two more rounds.Then in the hard luck round Billy lost his 4 leaf clover.

The Day When Everyone Was Thrown A Bone

The great Mexican champions always made sure they fought at least a non titlefight in Mexico after winning the World Title. It was expected.The arenas and bullrings in the interior and in the south of the Republic got the chance to see Olivares,Zarate,Sanchez,and papa Chavez. It was expected,. It's what those guys wanted to do.It showed loyalty to their patria. The tri ran through their veins.Mexico came first. It was like Pancho Villa playing Robin Hood.When Julio Cesar Chavez fought the pugnacious gringo Greg Haugen in the Estadio Azteca in the capital, 120,000 aficianados got a free pass.

I remember watching the fight live in one of the more tawdry cantinas in the Coahuila. The concrete floor smelled of stale beer and urine.You could see the cockroaches scampering up the walls. When the fighters started leaving their dressing rooms los machos got up from sitting beside their long in the tooth mujeres ,wearing their tight fitting dresses bursting at the seams, to gather around the small TV in the corner. The whores always hated the fights when they were on the television.
"Los cabranes won't spend any money on us.They don't want to dance.They don't buy us a drink. And they don't have the time to f--k us."
Oh,did they hope for a quick knockout.

But the Haugen fight didn't last long. J.C. was more of an hombre than Greg, and hell he didn't have 120,000 maniacs behind him.But those fights in Mexico were carefully picked. I saw Olivares fight some little known Japanese guy in the bullring in TJ. A real no contest fight if I ever saw one. But that's what the aficianados wanted to see-a slaughter.THey knew they weren't going to get the rematch with Chucho.

In those days the "big" fights were in Los Angeles. The really "Big" ones at the Forum.But sadly ,today the great Mexican fighters show their stuff outside of Mexico. It's either in California or Texas,or the ol' stand by Las Vegas.

People walk around Tijuana showing not much interest in fighting anymore, except for Canelo.He fought one time in Tijuana in 2006 and no ne remembers that prelim.The last time he put on the gloves in Mexico was 10 years ago.I bet you can't name the fighter.

Mexican fighters,regardless of their rep,have never gone over big in New York.Maybe it's because there are so may Puerto Ricans that got their first. No.The best of Mexico will fight in the U.S.You think of the multitude of Mexicans that struggle from the interior to cross into the U.S. seeking a better life. The Mexican press says that the U.S. government is oppressive. If the government of Mexico wasn't so oppressive their people wouldn't want to come here.That's a big decision to pack up your family and trek somewhere you've never been before and don't know the language. Ok.You're gonna' tell that once they're here they'll get a bunch of free stuff. It's something like that.But you try rubbing two pesos together in Mexico being a nobody in Mexico. I guess you can train to be a fighter like Canelo and then you'll have nothing to worry about.

You tell me your dream and I'll tell you mine.

Canelo

Rising To Their Feet

That night in the downtown bullring when before the main event between the champion Olivares and some Japanese guy no one had ever heard of;Archie Moore was introduced to the crowd and when he entered the ring all 10 thousand rose to their feet and wouldn't stop applauding. And there was Archie blowing kisses to all far corners of the arena and waving and smiling from ear to ear. I couldn't believe it. When El Puas got his name called the crowd responded, but sitting down. It was one of those non title fights but the thirst in TJ to see their champion quench those parched throats had been waiting ever since Ruben did away with that pesky Lionel Rose.

Olivares massacred the man from Nippon. There had been this rivalry of Mexican fighters and their Japanese counterparts going on for some time,but this match lacked any drama The poor guy was blown away by a fuselage of Rockin' Ruben's left hooks.There was no use trying to score the thing.

But after all was said and done it was Moore's reception that stuck in my mind. I wasn't aware that he had that many fans south of the border. He fought one time at the bullring after he won the title from Joey Maxim. It was anther non title affair. His opponent was the veteran Howard King who was no stranger to Moore. It as over in less than a round-Archie the victor.

But why the response? When I saw Sugar Ray Robinson fight Memo Ayon in that same bullring I wish I had a dollar for every time I heard someone yell out the "N" word. When Davey Moore defended his title against Kid Irapuato in (you guessed it)that metaphorical Mexican meat market, Davey had to escape from getting 'dobe walled after trouncing Irapuato. He was last seen running out of the bullring still wearing his gloves,his robe covering his head, as the bottles and chairs went flying over his head.

But why all the fuss about Archie Moore in country that was very cautious about giving blacks any credit for anything?Well, Archie's approach was to first embrace his neighbor to the south. Everyone started on an even plain with The Mongoose. When it came to fighting that could be taken up later. He found what he could love first in the society without pretentions. There was a human connection that had to be made first.And it wasn't something rushed.

Archie Moore lived in the Southeast section of San Diego that sure had its share of Latino residents. He frequented the local businesses,savored the food,spoke Spanish the best he could trying to put the accents were they belonged;and when he wanted to share what he could pass along to kids it didn't matter if the name ended with a vowel.

So that night in TJ when they introduced Archie Moore up to the ring the people knew what he was going in. What kind of a man he was. The fighting? Oh,they liked that too.But boxing was something you liked.Love was for something beyond that.


The Old Mongoose

Mean Gene

I hated Gene Fullmer.He beat my guy Carmen Basilio twice in world title fights and beat him good. Carmen couldn't finish both contests. I think after those fights Basilio should have hung up his gloves.He took a lot of hard shots in those two fights. But it was always Carmen who got recognized as the better fighter. It was alluded. For example Carmen got inducted into the IBHOF in its first year in 1990.Fullmer followed suit the year after.Basilio split a pair with Ray Gene handled Ray pretty easily,The one loss resulting from what everybody calls the most perfect left hook in history only after Ray couldn't win any of the previous rounds. But I gotta' admit I thought Ray did enough to "win" the one draw in the four fights.Ring Magazine voted Basilio in "The Fight Of The Year " five years straight.One of them being the first fight with Fullmer.When they erected the IBHOF the site was in Basilio's hometown of Canastota,New York.Fullmer was born in West Jordan,Utah.Honk Kong had a better chance.

The problem with Fullmer(if you wanted to call it that)was that he was a Mormon,fought dirty (but really didn't),and he had a personality like Calvin Coolidge.Looking back he never got enough credit.He still doesn't.

When Fullmer and Basilio were put together for the vacant NBA title just abut everybody thought that Basilio was a lead pipe cinch to win. But you could see from the get go that Basilio was the "smaller" man.He couldn't ward off Fullmer's crude assaults. Oh.Carmen was a better boxer but his punches couldn't put Fullmer back on his heals. It was like a tank(Fullmer) going against a jeep(Basilio).

But there was no quit in Basilio. He knew he was taking a drubbing but he was going to answer the bell as long as they let him.Another thing Fullmer had going for him-Marv Jensen. He trained and managed Fullmer ,and most importantly looked out for him,.After losing the last fight to Dick Tiger ,Jensen told Fullmer if he wanted to continue fighting he would do it with another boy in his corner.Jensen didn't rob him like Basilio's team of Johnny DeJohn and Al Nitro.A lot of Carmen's winnings went to feed the borses at the track-Al and Johnny at the betting window. Fullmer invested his money in a mink ranch in Utah and like a good Mormon made sure he contributed heartily when they passed the plate at the LDS church.

When I said I had hated Gene Fullmer for beating the ol' paisan Carmen ,well,I don't any more. On the outside Fullmer appeared to be insensitive,but underneath he was a good ol' Morman boy who was true to the faith.I had a lot of Mormon friends in school.Even played on the Mormon softball team.But I never could have been a Mormon.Maybe if they had brought back polygamy I'd have thought about it.


Gene Fullmer

Gene Fullmer and Marv Jensen

Your Title Hopes Stop Here

When Memo Ayon, the local middleweight from TJ, outpointed Ray Robinson in !965 at the downtown bullring it was a close fight ,and close fights in Tijuana went in favor to the local boy, or in this case the Mexican. Ray Robinson was a legend and everybody knew it.I was there with my father.The arena was sold out. (That bullring always made me nervous. It was nothing more than scaffolding with wooden planks for seats. They finally tore it down in the 90's and built a very nice "traditional" bullring out by the beach.Howver,it's seldom used even for bullfights) So for Memo Ayon to gain a victory of the guy many call the greatest P4P ever had the aficianados asking the Virgin Of Guadalupe for a little help with this.

Now I don't know if She had anything to do with the matchmaking,but next on the docket for Memo was Luis Rodriguez up in Los Angeles. After what I saw of Memo with Robinson(remember this would be Ray's last year trying to be a fighter)I knew Ayon was in trouble. They showed the fight on Mexican television (That film is probably inside that government vault that's used to protect Mexico's treasures.Why? I don't know).But if Ayon had any thoughts of advancing higher in the rankings El Feo kicked him out of the Top 10. Rodriguez was all over him. You could see that Ayon didn't know where the punches were coming from. After three rounds Memo took the bus back to TJ to become a referee.

When Denny Moyer was on his way out as a fighter here in San Diego I heard him talking about Rodriguez, Moyer said he was totally baffled by The Nose. Moyer said that Rodriguez would lure him forward and then splatter him with hooks and bolos. Another KO for the Cuban.Now Denny was no slouch at that time. He had faced the best including Griffith and Robinson but the way he was tellin' it Rodriguez was the guy who turned him into a club fighter.

I've talked about it before. Luis Rodriguez had no qualms taking on the best in their own backyards. He did it all the way to the end.He died with the dementia.That was in 1996. The IBHOF inducted him in 1997.Rodriguez retired in 1972. F--k 'em.


Luis Rodriguez

Hi, Since you have seen these fighters live, I was wondering if you could post what you remember about Joe Gurrola, if you remember anything. I've been researching my family history and we were very closely related so I'd love to hear anything at all you can share.

kikibalt wrote: ↑21 Aug 2012, 19:49 "PRELIMSTERS BATTLE FOR “BEST OF 1951” AWARD by HAP NAVARRO - With slightly more than eight weeks remaining to be fought, the local crop of prelim stars will be firing all their guns at the opposition in hopes of hitting the tape first in the run for the “Outstanding Prelim Boxer” accolade for 1951. At the moment, and it is merely our opinion, the leaders in this merry chase though not necessarily in this order, appear to be Keeny Teran, Gil Cadilli, Willie Vaughn, Mickey Northrup, Juan Luis Campos, Tommy Harrison, Rocky Robinson, and Leroy Richards. Others who may get into the picture are Don Cloud, Pinky Martinez, Abel Fernandez, Mike Augustain, Pete Aguirre, Frankie Rivers, Eddie Hernandez, Jesse Morales and Jimmy Hayes. This group of headline hunters plus a few others who have already taken part in at least one main event, in Los Angeles or elsewhere figure to provide local fight fans with plenty of fireworks for the remainder of the year. Joe Gurrola, Sammy Figueroa, Oscar Reyes, Bobby Brewer, etc."

I watch all of the above named fighters fight live or on local TV back in the early '50s. I also got to train at the legion gym in the mid-'50s.....Thanks for your post.

In The Barn

They don't talk about the second fight Ali had with Joe Frazier like they do with the first one that is called The Fight Of the Century which to me is the misnomer of the century or The Thrilla' In Manila which was a great fight.Like I said the other day everyone wanted Ali to win the rematch except members of the local VFW belied up to the bar. What was left of Ali was heavy legs,a preponderance of holding his opponent behind the neck,and a granite chin that was the result of a guy with guts.There would be no more floating on Fred Astaire legs.Adversaries who would wind down because of fatigue chasing Ali around the ring, would now stalk him and have him gasping for air.But I'm talking about the cream of the crop pugs named Foreman,Norton,and Frazier.

Like I said, I was watching the second fight Ali had with Frazier in Madison Square Garden. It was a replica of the first one three years earlier.. Frazier bobbin' and weavin' moving in like an enraged wildcat while Ali was holding on for dear life. He'd try to get his old legs goin' but then he'd flatten out and flurry, but that wouldn't stop Joe. So Ali would grab him behind the neck.Don Dunphy who was obviously pulling for Ali was calling the action like his press agent. But even when the final bell rang the atmosphere permeated with doubt. There must have been a hundred people crowded inside the ring with the all time opportunist Howard Cosell pontificating bad wig and all. But what struck me was Ali's posture. He was agitated and didn't want to be approached, but considering the melee that was impossible.Then the decision. "The winner by unanimous decision,Muhammad Ali."

There wasn't really a lot of rejoicing. Ali wasn't jumping around and saying "I told you so." No.I think he knew he got a gift.But why?He'd get some more presents twice against Norton .Ali was the face of the new order. He was on the side of youth and the underdog,and besides the money was out there for the taking.

When Ali did the impossible, tiring out a overanxious George Foreman pirouetting him to the canvas in Zaire, the hope for mankind was still on the tracks.Ali could beat the odds when everybody else could just wish and hope. Ali was their adjunct for a better world and a kind of a surrogate faith.

When 60 Minutes reporter Ed Bradley interviewed The Greatest many years after the Trevor Berbick debacle,he asked Ali where all his awards where. Ali told him they were back in the barn under a tarp. There was nothing snotty in his answer.But he never explained why those title belts were under wraps, and Bradley never followed up.

Here's my take on it. When I saw Ali bewildered in the ring after the second Frazier fight I think Ali knew that he would be an icon for pulling off the miracle. He was like a Christ figure. Too many of the world's unfortunate needed him to be their representative for the future. if the rest couldn't succeed they could count on Ali to do it for them. I wonder if Ali wanted to be in that position? Sure,his ego was beyond measurement,but trying to carry the world on his shoulders must have been incredible. Like that cross that other Guy carried 2000 years before.Was it fair to put that on Ali?If so he put in his mind all by himself. Maybe when he told Ed Bradley that all the symbols of his achievements were under a tarp in the barn to keep the pigeons from pooping on them he was trying to gave us a hint.


Muhammad Ali

The Exit

I forgot to mention yesterday how that interview by Ed Bradley from 60 Minutes ended with Muhammad Ali. Sitting beside Ali was his last wife,Lonnie.Muhammad was still able to converse and had retained his wit but it was obvious that he was laboring.I'm not clear about Bradley's intentions with Ali. At that stage Ali was not on any soapbox.The anger was gone. Lonnie said that Ali was ready to die and enter the afterlife.He had made peace with himself. He didn't necessarily relish his past but he wouldn't be in the state of mind he 's in today if her hadn't led the the life he did.

The interview ,if you wanted to call it that,sort of roamed around innocently.Ali was in no mood to take anything serious.Then,suddenly Ali went into a trance and began trembling.It unnerved Bradley. But Lonnie rested her hand on Ali and told Bradley that this was a normal occurrence,a seizure that would go away in moments.Ali then stirred,woke,and then smiled at Bradley.
"We had you goin'",murmured Ali laughing.
Bradley , realizing he had been played a joke on, eased back into his chair.

The spontaneity went on without anything prolific coming from mouth of the man who could once give Dr. King a run for his money when it came to sermonizing.So Bradley pulled out what he thought was his ace in the hole-the iconic photograph of Ali standing menacingly over the fallen Liston.
"What's your reaction to this?"asked Ed looking like he had scored a coup.
Ali studied the picture for an instant, rose abruptly, and then stormed out of the room making no comment. Bradley looked at Lonnie. She rolled her eyes and let out a breath.
"Guess that's it,"she said calmly.

Ed was left with egg on his face.He thought he'd been so glib.Well,pal you could take all your journalistic smugness and put it back in the "Phony File".You thought you'd catch The Greatest with a sucker punch but he slipped it like it was one of Sonny's telegraphed bombs.Now you know why he put all that past under that tarp back in the barn.


Ed,that could have been you lying there.You may have been smart but that's all you were.


Ali pulling a fast one on Ed Bradley

If I Can't Get A Scoop I'll Make One Up

Okay.Okay.I might have been a little hard on Ed Bradley,but ol' Ed was searching for something with Ali that the ol' champ stopped discussing years ago-philosophy and boxing. That was behind him by the time Bradley had pulled up a chair and began trying to get one in on him and spill his guts.Frustrated,Bradley pulled out the photo of Ali waving his glove at a submissive Sonny Liston lying on his back like an animal who had no fight in him.You think of all the shots Ali took after the comeback and here's big bad Sonny rolling around on his back like a harpooned tuna except the punch that put him down will be debated until the end of time of having any force behind it.But if Liston laid down he never told anyone because like the CIA adage" If I gotta' tell ya' then I gotta kill ya."

But that night in the high school gym Sonny didn't have any intentions of doing anybody any harm. He only hurt himself by performing a crummy job of acting. No Oscars going his way. Ali thought the fight was a fix.At least those were the first words out of mouth when it was over. Let's face it, if Liston would have beaten Muhammad Ali twice instead of quitting in two different but lousy performances what would have been Ali's legacy?All mouth and no let's not talk about him anymore." But David slew Goliath and that's the way the Walter Mitty's of the world dreamt the outcome .

But if Ali had lost there would have been no trilogy with Frazier. .Foreman might have been called "The Greatest" .But Ali persevered, gift decisions and all ,and tired out Big George when his team of Dick Saddler and Archie Moore believed he could knock out Ali like all the rest in 2 rounds. By the time Muhammad melted him on the Equator George couldn't have held back his Doberman he brought with him on his leash.

So getting back to Ed Bradley. What did you think Ali was going to divulge to you? By that time Ali had no more interest in boxing than Roberto Duran did by saying it wasn't the steak I ate that made me quit,I just didn't want to be made a fool of by Leonard.So Duran did it to himself. He found out that was harder to live with.

Bradley got nothing out of boxing by the greatest fighter ever. Ali certainly wasn't going to shed any light on things with Ed Bradley. Ali was too old.Ali Ali was too sick.Why bring up something that made him "the Greatest"yet made him physically a broken man? Go make something up Ed if you want.Ali wouldn't have cared. Boxing didn't mean a thing to him anymore.You picture backfired. It wasn't even close. It ended your interview.


Ali again.

My Favorite Boxing Story

Majoring in English in school we did a lot of reading of course. Some of it I liked.Some I struggled through. I like Shakespeare but I needed the prof to walk me through it.American literature was my favorite subject.I look back on it now and much of it is passe.If they wanted you to get a taste of stark reality they made you read Steinbeck,Faulkner,or Hemingway. Playwrights were all right but I preferred straight prose.Short stories were my favorites.I always was captivated by an author's style if it suited me.Of course the content had to add up, but if the style impressed me I was a repeat reader.

When it came to putting words together to hold my interest my favorites were Mark Twain,Ring Lardner,and when he was "on" ,Ernest Hemingway.Since I post on a boxing forum I'll say my favorite all time boxing story is Hemingway's short story,Fifty Grand.But I have to clarify that Hemingway when he was "on" was unequaled,however that was seldom the case with Papa.But what i'm talking about when he was on top of his game was a verse that seemed a part of the the world's unforgiving mantra. It was coarse ,yet understated;brusque,yet poignant. It rhymed with with what his admirers called nature.You could feel it in your bones.Boxing was the perfect foil to bring attention to natural struggle of things where the only thing that is certain is death and the futility of sidestepping it.The thing to do is to try to exit the premises with a dignity that exalts you stint on the planet.


Hemingway was a very jealous man. He constantly dissed his contemporaries like Fitzgerald and Steinback when he should have focused more of his attention on what he was writing.Most of the time he rushed his works relying on the "Hemingway style" to get him through, but because of his impatience that wasn't always enough. You can tell that he wanted the public to buy in, but he was relying on his name too much.However he was often very successful.

As with most writers his early stuff was his best work.His anthology "In Our Time"is what brought him to international attention. A collection of short stories that reflect his early life experiences,though classified as fiction,are in a sense his tracings of his youthful experiences.He wrote a ton of short stories but like I said before he sprinted through most of them and they come off as "gimmicky."But he really nailed Fifty Grand which I consider his best effort and my favorite sports story. It also happens to be about boxing.

Fifty Grand was published in the magazine Atlantic Monthly in 1927. The theme loosely alludes to the fight between welterweight champion Jack Britton and challenger Mickey Walker. The Britton character is named Jack Brennan,"Irish and tough",who's got too much on his mind prior to the fight.He's a worrier and a loner. He considers his friend Jerry Doyle and the man who is going to work his corner as the only guy he can spill his guts to and won't take him for on of life's joyrides.Brennan tells Doyle about his demons.

"Oh I worry,"Jack says."I worry about property I got up in the Bronx.I worry about property I got in Florida.I worry about the wife.I worry about fights."

He goes on to say that it's not good for his daughters to have him as a father. Somehow he thinks having a fighter as a dad don't do his daughters any good.He's been fighting too long and it's become a struggle. He got this guy Walcott facing him and he knows he can't lick him. The kid is young and strong and there's no way he can lick him.Brennan is training out at Danny Hogan's health farm and he hasn't showed nothing.

"Jack started training out at Danny Hogan's health farm over in Jersey .It was nice out there but Jack didn't like it mich.He didn't like being away from the wife and the kids,and he was sore and grouchy most of the time."

Brennan's sparring partner is Soldier Bartlett who alludes to the welterweight of that era ,Soldier Bartfield.Well,Bartlett is starting to rile Jack..

"Bartlett commenced to get on his nerves.A kidder gets to be an awful thing around camp if his stuff goes sort of sour....It wasn't very funny and it wasn't very good,and it began to get to Jack.It was sort of stuff like this.Jack would finish up with the weights and the bag and pull on the gloves.
"You want to work?"he'd say to Soldier.
"Sure.How you want me to work?"Soldier would ask."Want me to treat you rough like Walcott?Want mr to knock you down a few times?"
"That's it"Jack would say.He didn't like it any though."

After awhile Brennan had had enough.It was time for Bartlett to leave.

"Well you better go back to town and stay there."
"What's the matter?"
"I'm sick of hearing you talk."

Knowing he has no chance to win Brennan decided to do something to salvage what he can out of the upcoming fight.He invites a couple of sharpies out to camp and wants to place fifty grand on Walcott. He knows he can't beat Walcott so why make some money?

They all meet in Danny Hogan's room and the deal is made. Now Jack begins to loosen up. He knows he'll get away with the gamble and then he can settle down and put fighting behind him.

At the weigh in Jack could have made weight with his clothes on .He was a natural welterweight and never had to sweat anything off. Walcott on the other hand tipped the bar at 146 pounds and 12 ounces.He had the shoulders and chest of a middleweight plus he was a "socking machine."

At the bell"Jack turned quick and went out.Walcott came toward him and they touched gloves and as soon as Walcott dropped his hands Jack jumped the left into his face twice.There wasn't anybody that boxed better than Jack."

It went like that going into the middle rounds. Jack boxing Walcott's puss off with the left hand bloodying up his face.Walcott would hook both hands to the body leaving red welts on Jack's sides.Then Jack's legs started to betray him. His left was getting heavy. He tells Jerry Doyle in the corner that he doesn't want Walcott to stop him and that he can holdout to the end.At the start of the last round Jack is pretty much spent and behind on the cards.But he knows he has his ducks in order.

"Jack went out slow.Walcott came right out after him.Jack put the left in his face.Walcott took it,came under it and started working Jack's body.Jack tried to tie him up and it was like holding on to a buzz saw.Jack broke away and missed with a right.Walcott clipped him with a let hook and Jack went down."

After Jack got to his feet now came the double cross.

"Walcott came up to Jack looking at him.Jack stuck the left at him.Walcott just shook his head.He backed Jack against the ropes,measured him and then hooked the left very light to the side of Jack's head and socked the right into the body as hard as he could sock,just as low as he could get it.He must have hit him five inches below the belt.I thought the eyes would come out of Jack's head.
The referee grabbed Walcott.Jack stepped forward.If he went down there went fifty thousand bucks.He walked as though all his insides were going to fall out.
"It wasn't low .It was a accident...I'm all right.(he told the referee)
"The referee waved Walcott on."Get in there you slob.
"Walcott went in....He never thought Jack could have stood it...Jack's face was the worse thing I ever saw...He was holding himself and all his body together and it all showed on his face.
"Then he started to sock with his hands low by his sides..His face looked awful all the time...Then he swung the left and it hit him in the groin where he had hit Jack.Way low below the belt.Walcott went down and grabbed himself and rolled and twisted around.
"the referee grabbed Jack and pushed him towards his corner...The referee is talking to the judges and then the announcer got into the ring..."Walcott on a foul!"

When it all came out in the wash Jack's sitting on his stool thinking about he they tried to turn the tables on him.Then he looks at Jerry Doyle.

"It's funny how fast you can think when it comes to that much money."

There you have it.My favorite boxing story. Between Hemingway's style and the content it clicked for me. Howewer,when the pundits list the best of Hemingway ,Fifty Grand,doesnt usually get a call. Let's face it,the scholars aren't into fighters and boxing. It's not their cup of tea.It's something they don't know much about so they avoid mentioning it.But the peer group of sportswriters know. They can bring up Fifty Grand at a table at the back of the bar like they were sitting ringside.

Ernest Hemingway


Jack Britton

The Big Three

Back before my time The Sporting News was the number one rag for giving you the latest in sports. However,the focus was on primarily only three sports-baseball ,horse racing,and boxing.For starters parents didn't want their kids growing up to be professional athletes. That wasn't the standard way to make a living. It was sort of un American to get paid money for sliding into third base.That wasn't a real job.But sports wasn't going to go away.You had to be good to be a pro. It was more than likely you'd be a wash if you tried out for a ream. Fighting? Well,that was damn right ludicrous.There had to be something wrong with you if you wanted to be a fighter.You either had to have fallen on hard times or was left at some orphanage when you were a baby.You grew up in the streets and the only way to survive was to know how to fight.But I guess it was better than winding up a convict and contracting syphilis.

A lot of fighters said the way they got started was that their fathers and uncles would arrange fights for them with other street toughs,and then they would bet on you. If you lost then you'd get a second beating. Jose Napoles said that when he was a kid in Cuba he'd be fighting twenty,thirty times a day in the street while his relatives were making side bets on him to win.Where was Dr. Spock?

But before the big war, baseball was being called the National Pastime and fighters spouses were being acclaimed as wives of the year. Mrs. Sugar Robinson and Mrs. Jake LaMotta had those awards bestowed on them and then Sugar and Jake would follow up with a couple of left hooks to their pans.

I can't remember when The Sporting News scrubbed the works but I remember it being around in the 70's. I liked reading it. It wasn't one of those glossy magazines like Sports Illustrated. It looked like a newspaper printed on stock paper. The articles were a throwback to the way those old timer scribes described the action. You could smell the cigar smoke when you turned the pages.Later,a lot of these guys went to work for Sports Illustrated and Sport magazines. They're all dead now.Guys like Barney Nagler,W.C. Heinz,Hank Kaplan,Ed Linn,A.J. Liebling,Jim Murray,Alan Malamud,Jimmy Cannon,Heywood Broun,and my favorite Frank Deford to name a few.When they wrote boxing you felt like you'd been scuffed in the rosin box. No lacy metaphors alluding to Walden Pond.You ate Mulligan Stew and washed it down with a bottle of Pabst Blue Ribbon.

Oh,I forgot to touch on horseracing.I wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole.


Jack Johnson's signature on an old page of a Police Gazette.

Memorial Day

I think you have to go back to the 1920's to find that all the world champs were Americans.I might be wrong.(If I am I'm sure Chuck Johnston will call me out on thi).But that sure ain't the case today. Oh,it's not that I'm so sore about there not being an all Yank list from top to bottom of world champs With all these divisions comprised of fighters weighing around a hundred pounds that ain't gonna' happen again.

I look at the BoxRec top P4P guys and glance at the flags next to their names and see a multitude of colors.But then again of the top seventeen,eight are Americans. That's pretty good. But it kind of breaks my heart when I look at the heavyweight division to see a lack of "Old Glories" besides these pugs' names. The top guy is Andy Ruiz and you can take it to the bank that he's a gringo(it says so on his birth certificate anyway)but for me it's a stretch. Now don't fly off the handle and call me a racist.Hell,I married a Mexican gal and wouldn't trade her in for all the money in the world.

You get to the heavier divisions and I try to read who these guys are but I ain't used to pronouncin' names ten letters long and have only one vowel.But these Eastern Europeans are ,if nothing else, tough as nails. They were bred on snow and raw bear meat and they always liked to fight if nothing else to stay warm.

Boxing here in the U.S. has really gone downhill. Where I live in San Diego there are no weekly cards anymore.That stopped in the 21st century. If there is something ,you have to drive out to one of these Indian reservations that are out in the mountains and to get there you have to navigate these two lane asphalt roads that have no light posts and coil around like a rattlesnake ready to strike. That ain't for me. I've been to a few of them. Drive an hour out and back and see a card that ain't worth the price of admission. And besides you sure don't want to do any drinkin' and then have to drive back on those winding roads. Just what I need t- hit Geronimo driving with no lights or worse yet slam into a cow.It's happened.

Getting back to what it was like before.Imagine driving out to Sitting Bull's house and watching Joe Louis fight?Naw.Fighting for me has been relegated to the toy department.And talk about something that aint' around anymore-toys. Now the kids want an I Phone. or an X Box(or is it a Z Box?) I still don't know how to work the "Flip" phone I have.

So today I think of Memorial Day and all the servicemen who died for this country so we could have it like it is today.It's a great story and should be told. But now you'd have to translate it into eighty different languages.




John L. and the Brown Bomber.It don't get any more American than this.


Or this

Two Fighters

Art Aragon ;who they called the Golden Boy and though I like Oscar De La Hoya I just call him Oscar, never Golden Boy;well Art met Audie Murphy on the set of the movie To Hell and Back that was highest grossing movie of 1955,.They became fast pals.Aragon played one of the soldiers in Murphy's platoon.The movie is loosely an adaptation of Murphy's battle exploits in World War II.

At the time Aragon was the larger than life sports hero in the City Of The Angels. He spent just as much time chasing starlets as he did trying to corner his opponents in the ring.He beat Jimmy Carter the lightweight champ in a non title go and then lost to Jimmy when he put his belt on the line.in the rematch.You couldn't help but love Aragon. He was a Peck's Bad Boy but no one was ready to burn him at the stake except maybe one of his ex wives.

Murphy and Aragon became so close that Art named one of his sons Audie. After To Hell And Back they worked together in another movie World In My Corner. Murphy played the part of an aspiring fighter. Aragon also had a part in the movie as a fighter though his name wasn't on the marquee.

Murphy sure knew how to fight with a Garand rifle but when he put on the boxing gloves he was lost. That's when Aragon came to his buddy's aid.Murphy was a quick study and Aragon said that he could have held his on in the ring if he ever wanted to cast aside acting.

Well,Murphy continued with acting but after To Hell and Back his career kind of languished in the underworld.As for Aragon he never won a championship,at least not in the ring. But as for Murphy how can you top The Congressional Medal Of Honor? As for Art why don't you put the guy on that "Great Non Champions" list?


Art "Golden Boy" Aragon

Audie Murphy