Bennie
For the last half hour I've been trying to find something that fits that picture,but I'vr become long winded and too political. I scratched everything.
I went to Ocean View Park the other day cruising around. I bumped into one of the Black players from that all Black semi pro team I was on. We used to practice at that park.
"Hey Charlie. What's up in the neighborhood?"
"Rog,it's different today. These kids don't know how to have fun like you and me did."
When he said "you and me" ,my feet felt like they left the ground.
kikibalt wrote:
Jack Dempsey & Joe Louis
15 September 1956
Jack Sharkey, "The Boston Gob", was the only man ever to have tackled Dempsey and Louis. Once asked to compare the two, Sharkey described Louis as "the kindest man I ever fought. Joe knocked me down five times and asked me if I was OK after each knockdown.
"Dempsey growled like an animal, throwing punches, and grunted, 'Aren't you dead yet?'"
Expug wrote:Dagos ,I agree.
However , recently I was dissapointed in the behavior of one of our modern day champs, Floyd Mayweather jr.
I was working security backstage a year or so ago at a Beyonce concert and Mayweather and his , posse , security team were there.
It was him and about ten guys each about three hundred and fifty pounds. They were clownish in their behavior , but the main thing was Floyd walking around "Rapping" and dancing as if he was part of the show and Yapping on his cell phone in the press lounge with his feet up on the table where people eat there meals.
I thought I was gonna have a problem with these people , I really did.
All at once , they got up and left, which was good. It was obnoxious and behavior that I could never picture a guy like Joe Louis exhibiting.
I agree. Look at the way the cable stations promote boxers, and the big show as a fighter enters the ring. I loved Tyson just coming down the aisle like a warrior, ala Dempsey. How I enjoyed watching little Prince Hamed entering the ring on a flying carpet, only to get his ass-kicked by Marco Antonio Barrera, a REAL Mexican fighter. What happened to the Prince afterwards? He disappeared and has yet to show his face anywhere near a boxing ring. And Mando Ramos? There was a guy who could generate true excitement just nodding his head to the crowd. Today, we have rap music and guys spending more thought on choreographing a ring entrance than defeating their opponents. Hey Randy, what do you think Mel Epstein would say about Floyd Mayweather Jr.???
Ace Hudkins was a friend of my Grandfather. He used to be a studio wrangler after he retired, and spent his money investing in a ranch that sat right across the L.A. river from Warner Bros. in Burbank. When my mom was a teenager, my grandfather taught her how to drive on Hudkins Ranch property. Today, the property is Forest Lawn Cemetery (and has been for more than half century). As a little boy, I met Hudkins in a super market when he and my grandad met and visited. Ace picked me up and I still remember how scary the guy looked. Half his face was blue, due to some blood condtion he had, and that busted nose and scar tissue. He laughed and told my grandfather I was a fighter, I didn't blink when staring at his busted up face. In the mid-70's, long after my grandfather's death, I would attend Hudkins funeral,and view his body at the Burbank Mortuary. Ace made a lot of money renting horses, buck boards and stage coaches to Warner Bros. for Western productions. Ace Hudkins was a REAL fighter, we'll never see a guy like him again.
Ace Hudkins was a friend of my Grandfather. He used to be a studio wrangler after he retired, and spent his money investing in a ranch that sat right across the L.A. river from Warner Bros. in Burbank. When my mom was a teenager, my grandfather taught her how to drive on Hudkins Ranch property. Today, the property is Forest Lawn Cemetery (and has been for more than half century). As a little boy, I met Hudkins in a super market when he and my grandad met and visited. Ace picked me up and I still remember how scary the guy looked. Half his face was blue, due to some blood condtion he had, and that busted nose and scar tissue. He laughed and told my grandfather I was a fighter, I didn't blink when staring at his busted up face. In the mid-70's, long after my grandfather's death, I would attend Hudkins funeral,and view his body at the Burbank Mortuary. Ace made a lot of money renting horses, buck boards and stage coaches to Warner Bros. for Western productions. Ace Hudkins was a REAL fighter, we'll never see a guy like him again.
-Rick Farris
Great story about Hudkins Rick.
Ace Hudkins was one of those fighters that you wouldnt want anything to do with if you didnt know how to fight.
You know what I mean. There are some fighters through history like that. Fighters fighters.
This guy would hang with anyone and kick the shit out of all but the all time greats and even those guys would catch hell from the "Nebraska Wildcat".
Ruby Goldstein was touted as a cant miss champion. He was knockin out everyone, undefeated and a big NY hero.
That is until they put him in with Hudkins who stretched him.
Ruby might not have been the same fighter after that.
In 1927, Ace Hudkins and Bert Colima fought at Wrigley Field in Los Angeles, drawing a tremendous crowd for Dick Donald, the promoter of the bout. Hudkins won by a large margin with Colima being very game.
Ace Hudkins was a friend of my Grandfather. He used to be a studio wrangler after he retired, and spent his money investing in a ranch that sat right across the L.A. river from Warner Bros. in Burbank. When my mom was a teenager, my grandfather taught her how to drive on Hudkins Ranch property. Today, the property is Forest Lawn Cemetery (and has been for more than half century). As a little boy, I met Hudkins in a super market when he and my grandad met and visited. Ace picked me up and I still remember how scary the guy looked. Half his face was blue, due to some blood condtion he had, and that busted nose and scar tissue. He laughed and told my grandfather I was a fighter, I didn't blink when staring at his busted up face. In the mid-70's, long after my grandfather's death, I would attend Hudkins funeral,and view his body at the Burbank Mortuary. Ace made a lot of money renting horses, buck boards and stage coaches to Warner Bros. for Western productions. Ace Hudkins was a REAL fighter, we'll never see a guy like him again.
-Rick Farris
Rick,
Pictured with Hundkins is Bert Colima who trained my dad when he fought as an amateur, Colima would take my dad and other amateur fighters to fight at Jeffries's Barn.
My father was told today that Pat Valentino San Fransico heavyweight who challanged Ezzard Charles for the title passed away in the past week but we can't find any verification anywhere; has anyone else heard anything?
Bobbin & Weavin in
Nor-Cal
My uncle Anthony was my father's youngest brother. i should say half brother. Anthony's father was a guy named Ladera. After Diamond Joe was gunned down my grandmother married this guy Ladera.My father never talked about him much because he hated his guts. Later my father used his Mob connections to get the guy deported back to Italy.
My mother always said this Ladera was the love of my grandmother's life.My mother didn't like the way the Espositos ganged up on Ladera and got him thrown out of the country. Funny. My mother was the only person I heard talk bad about Diamond Joe.She thought Diamond Joe was a dirty old man because he was 44 when he married my grandmother who was 16. Hell,he ran things. She was from a family of 19 brothers and sisters. I heard my grandfather spotted her in the street. Sent one of his boys over to inform her mother that her daughter was going to be Diamond Joe's new wife. Just like that. Of course my mother never said those things in my father's presence.
But my uncle Anthony took Diamond Joe's last name of Esposito and so did my grandmother. Anthony was a good lookin' kid. He's a lot older than me,but I always thought of him as a good lookin' kid. He was slender and athletic. He looked a little like Benvenuti the fighter. My grandmother would aways treat him special because that was Ladera's boy. My father really hated when she did that. But Anthony always seemed like a nice guy. Had a couple of wives and always a lot of girlfriends. His problem was he didn't like to work. Always scheming to get through life.
He was on his way of being a baseball player. He played for the Orioles' farm team,but busted his leg in a basketball game.Anthony always was talking about how he played in the minors on the same team as Tito Francona. But his dreams of becoming a pro were gone. He was a Chicago cop for a while,but got busted taking bribes. He liked to play the role of a big shot,but he was far from it.
Anthony was in and out of jail on stupid penny ante crap.. Mostly had to do with stealing something.Lifting a ring out of a jewelry store or goin' through somone's mail for a Social Security check. Something that wouldn't have made him the big shot he wanted to be in life anyway.The last time I saw him,he'd gotten out of the slammer and came out to California to visit his brother. He still looked trim and handsome when he walked in the door. I remember my father kissing him on the mouth like Al Pacino did to his brother Fredo in the Godfather. In a way that's kind of macho. I mean doin' that with confidence like it's the right thing to do. I ain't that confident,or maybe not that Italian.
One thing I could talk to Anthony about was sports. He loved all the sports. We went out to watch the Padres play at the Stadium,but all Anthony could talk about was the Cubs and what a class team they were and Wrigley Field was better than what we had in San Diego. I mean I lived in Hicksville and Anthony was a grease ball from Chicago. What a Fellini play that would have made.
While he was here he mentioned Rocky Marciano. Well Rocky,in the Italian community was the greatest.
"I saw Rocky kill Joe Louis. Had him through the ropes."
"But wasn't Joe past his prime then.?"
"What do you mean? He just got done knocking out Lee Savold."
I couldn't win so I went somewhere else with the Rock. I was entering dangerous territory questioning Rocky Marciano. And me being Italian on top of things.
"I hear Rocky liked the ladies?"
"Why not? His wife was no good. A woman low down. Not even Italian. He should have never married her."
I knew a little about Barbara Marciano,Rocky's wife. Rocky's family didn't like her at all.And when Rocky died,they turned their backs on her. I felt sorry for her. She was very lonely with Rocky.
"Yeah,Rocky could have done a lot better than marrying her."
I wanted to change the subject.
"Well how long are you going to stay out here Anthony?
"Not too long. This town doesn't have enough action for me."
I was thinking the sooner he leaves,the better I'll feel.
Minter made quick amends for the controversey of his win over Vito in the States when he destroyed the Italian-American in eight rounds over here. Pretty it wasn't. Vito walked OFF the plane in dark glasses.
Sadly, when Vito came back to Britain to watch Hagler destroy Minter (and the subsequent appalling riot), he was introduced to the crowd and roundly booed, which summed up the atmosphere that night.
Notice Johnny Owen on the bill. He dished out a beating to the highly capable John Feeney, throwing punches non-stop for 15 rounds. The diehards of the press, all there to watch Minter, gave him plenty of copy. Magri was always a promoter's favourite. They couldn't print tickets fast enough...
Minter made quick amends for the controversey of his win over Vito in the States when he destroyed the Italian-American in eight rounds over here. Pretty it wasn't. Vito walked OFF the plane in dark glasses.
Sadly, when Vito came back to Britain to watch Hagler destroy Minter (and the subsequent appalling riot), he was introduced to the crowd and roundly booed, which summed up the atmosphere that night.
Notice Johnny Owen on the bill. He dished out a beating to the highly capable John Feeney, throwing punches non-stop for 15 rounds. The diehards of the press, all there to watch Minter, gave him plenty of copy. Magri was always a promoter's favourite. They couldn't print tickets fast enough...
Bennie, what was the deal with Magri, was it his jaw? I remember when he was really rolling but then got stopped by clubfighter "Pulga" Torres. Everyone started writing him off, but then he got back on track and won the WBC title but then got iced by Frank Cedeno, a guy he should never have lost to. It just seemed that the chin would let him down at those inopportune moments. He certainly had all the physical tools and advantages on Flys of that era. It would have been interesting to see how Magri would have fared a couple of years earlier against Canto, Gonzalez, Vargas, Espadas, Oguma and company.
Give or take a match, professional boxing in all of Southern California has been almost totally in the hands of gloved warriors of Mexican descent for, say, the last 25 years.
This monopoly, if you want to call it such, is no mere accident. It is no scheme on the part of anyone, much less promoters. It is no design of convenience, period.
Mexican fighters, born here or yonder, possess a peculiarity which, with the possible exception of glovers of Irish ancestry, isn't always typical of battlers in general.
That peculiarity, my friends, is very basic. It consists of one utterly simple fact: Integrity to the fullest extent.
Translate this into Cauliflower Alley language and they'll tell you, quite candidly, that those "Mexican kids are all action, plenty of guts with never a thought about tank jobs."
One quick glance at the recent past of top-rated Mexican ring stars will bear out the contention.
Look at Tampico-born Baby Arizmendi. Or Mexico City-born Rodolfo Casanova. Or Los Angeles-born Manuel Ortiz. Or Durango-born Enrique Bolanos.
Or Mexico City-born Raul (Raton) Macias and Ricardo (Pajarito) Moreno. Or Laredo-born Kid Azteca.
All of them individuals who enriched and never tarnished the sometimes shadowy profession of I-punch-you, you-punch-me, let's-get-paid.
Even now, when old aficionados of the boxing game sadly shake their heads to moan the fact that "the game ain't what it usta be," Mexican fighters--particularly those of the Mexico City crop--keep sticking out their heads to proudly proclaim that theirs is no dying sport.
For proof, look at your calendar and mark the date of May 23 (when "Pajarito" Moreno and Jose Luis Cotero clash) as a date when Los Angeles will see perhaps the greatest battle of featherweight fury cooked up here since Arizmendi's heroic duels versus Henry Armstrong.
But, now, the inevitable question mark surrounding the overwhelming participation of Mexicans in pro boxing.
Is there a reason why there should not be, in professional boxing circles, a referee, a judge, a commissioner of Mexican extraction?
Tonight, under the joint sponsorship of the Council of Mexican Affairs and the local chapter of the American GI Forum, the absence of officials of Mexican extraction from boxing circles in California comes up for serious discussion and comment.
Attorney Henry Lopez and Frank X. Paz will conduct proceedings which, needless to say, will be highly interesting.
Prominent personalities from the sports and civic world will await the sound of the gong at 8 p.m. at Casa del Mexicano.
The eight-second mandatory count will not be in effect. Not even for Pepe, who'll be there wearing 60-ounce gloves. And plenty of collodion.
Minter made quick amends for the controversey of his win over Vito in the States when he destroyed the Italian-American in eight rounds over here. Pretty it wasn't. Vito walked OFF the plane in dark glasses.
Sadly, when Vito came back to Britain to watch Hagler destroy Minter (and the subsequent appalling riot), he was introduced to the crowd and roundly booed, which summed up the atmosphere that night.
Notice Johnny Owen on the bill. He dished out a beating to the highly capable John Feeney, throwing punches non-stop for 15 rounds. The diehards of the press, all there to watch Minter, gave him plenty of copy. Magri was always a promoter's favourite. They couldn't print tickets fast enough...
Bennie, what was the deal with Magri, was it his jaw? I remember when he was really rolling but then got stopped by clubfighter "Pulga" Torres. Everyone started writing him off, but then he got back on track and won the WBC title but then got iced by Frank Cedeno, a guy he should never have lost to. It just seemed that the chin would let him down at those inopportune moments. He certainly had all the physical tools and advantages on Flys of that era. It would have been interesting to see how Magri would have fared a couple of years earlier against Canto, Gonzalez, Vargas, Espadas, Oguma and company.
Scartissue
Scar: yes, it was his chin - but only after Charlie had punched himself out. He was one of those fighters who grew vulnerable when he grew tired. I watched Charlie win the world title in 1983 in London. He was on the verge of flattening Eleoncio Mercedes when a cut saved Mercedes from the indignity. It was a great night but Charlie was already past his best (he was at his peak when he beat the likes of Santos Laciar and Alfonso Lopez in 1980) and Cedeno survived his early onslaughts and came back to stop Magri just a few months later. Make no mistake, an opponent had to survive Hell to beat Magri, who punched well above his weight.
The Main Street Gym was the mecca of boxing in Los Angeles. The place all
the greats went to train or workout when they were in Los Angeles. Joe
Louis (above, 1963), Ray Robinson, Muhammad Ali, and a host of lesser lights all trained
there when they had fights in Los Angeles or were in L.A. for other reasons.
The Rocky movies had location scenes shot there.
Cecelia Rasmussen wrote a column in The Times about one of its owners, Howie
Steindler, that was later reprinted in her book "LA Unconventional". The man
was murdered in 1977 in a case that was never solved.
Main Street must have been a lively place at one time with all the burlesque
theatres, and the trolleys and interurbans going up and down the street.
And the Main Street Gym between 3rd and 4th.
Photograph by Maurice Terrell / Los Angeles Times
Here's Louis on March 28, 1939, with a local fighter named Ernest "Dynamite" Jackson, a Pacific Coast heavyweight champion who later became the first African American to get a referee's license.
Photograph by the Los Angeles Times
This is Louis sparring with Paul Williams at the Main Street Gym in a photo published April 16, 1939, shortly before Louis' bout with Jack Roper on April 17, 1939, at Wrigley Field. Roper lasted 2 minutes, 20 seconds with Louis.
