BoxRec

dagosd2000 wrote:Randy,I would be honored. Just tell me what to do. Rog.

Frank,do you have any more paintings by your cousin? He knows how to do the face. That's the art. The eyes are the window to the soul. You're dad looked like he had plenty. Diego

Rick Farris wrote:You are important, Rick, and I truly appreciate the offer, although, sadly, I cannot see myself making the trip. The taxman, you know. I have met Calzaghe once or twice and he seems like a nice guy, if a little moody, and I 've never been able to understand a word Enzo (his dad/trainer) says; Lewis, no BS, lived right next door to a relative of mine in Crayford in Kent (near London) when he turned pro. His mum came round in tears when Roger Levitt, who backed Lewis, went bust and the house was repossessed. I don't think Lewis has ever forgiven Levitt for allowing that to happen. In court Lewis is a much better fighter than he is in the ring. Incidentally, when the Lewis 'gay' rumours were flying around, I knew for a fact they were false. My auntie told me they could hear him 'entertaining' women (cough, cough) through the rather thin walls we have over here. I also found it amusing when I heard that Lewis, before his biggest (first biggest) win over Razor Ruddock, was 'pumped up' in the back garden by his team before he set off for the fight. They were all stomping around chanting things, much like Araon Pryor's "Hawk Time!"
It beats a barbeque.

scartissue wrote:Randy . . . My grandfather was also an alcoholic, as were many who worked in the film business back then. When I broke into the business, I would hear guys tell me, "your grandfather lit more film sets drunk than most have done sober, and did twice as good a job.". I didn't like hearing that, because I never saw my grandfather drunk. A couple years before I was born, my grandmother, a very strong woman whom he loved more than anything, gave him an ultimatum, "stop drinking, or I'm gone and will never come back." Somehow, thankfully, this did the trick and he just stopped drinking. As a kid, I was kinda restless. I was also small and this made me a bully target. I never backed down and found myself fighting all the time. I discovered that a bully turned into a bitch when they felt a little pain and this taught me something about life. As it turned out, I was fighting all the time, and I wanted to learn how to do it right, because when you fight a lot, you are going to get your ass kicked now and then. I started to watch boxing on TV and immediatly wanted to make that my life's career. I was about ten at the time and nobody had any intention of allowing me to realize that dream. My father was a workaholic and was never around, but when my grandfather retired, he could see that I was heading for trouble. We had been watching boxing together for a couple of years and knew I wanted to be a boxer. One day, after pulling me out of the principal's office for fighting, he made me an offer I couldn't refuse: "You want to box, so I'll take you to where you can learn to box, but you have to do something for me also, and if you don't I won't support your dream to be a boxer." He told me that I'd have to promise to avoid street fighting and to get my grades up to an acceptable level. I jumped at the chance, and within a month, I was not only boxing, but also studying. I had looked up the phone number of a promising young heavyweight named Jerry Quarry, whom I asked where I could learn to be a fighter like he was. Jerry referred me to Johnny Flores and that's where it all began for me. My first bout took place early in 1965 at the Teamsters gym. My grandfather was present at every fight and gym workout I would have for the next four years. In 1968, when I was 16, my grandfather was striken with a ruptured aorta while sitting next to the ring at the Johnny Flores Gym. Johnny rushed him to the hospital, where he died a couple of weeks later. I was 16 at the time, and suddenly alone. We buried my grandfather on a monday, and four days later on a friday, I stepped into the ring at the Eastside Boys club for the first time without my grandfather watching from ringside. Johnny Flores was not there that night, off to N.Y. with Jerry Quarry who was fighting Buster Mathis, so my dad worked my corner. Frank Baltazar matched me with a kid from Stanton AC named Billy Enriquez. The only instructions my dad gave me in the corner before the fight was "Go out and win this for your grandad." And that is exactly what I did, the fight was stopped in the final round. To this day I miss my grandfather, and I wish he could have seen me fight as a pro, and could see me today doing what he used to do, lighting film sets, and even picking up a couple of Emmy citations along the way. By the way, my grandfather used to talk about lighting Betty Davis back in the fifties. In 1983, I became the last person to light Betty Davis before her death, on the pilot for an Aaron Spelling TV series, "HOTEL". Miss Davis made the pilot, then her health prevented her from doing the series. Ironic, huh? Sorry for this trip down the lane of my memory, but . . . whatever.

-Rick

dagosd2000 wrote:Randy,I would be honored. Just tell me what to do. Rog.

Frank,do you have any more paintings by your cousin? He knows how to do the face. That's the art. The eyes are the window to the soul. You're dad looked like he had plenty. Diego

kikibalt wrote:

Here is a painting of my dad done after his death by my cousin Marty Arriola.

Rick Farris wrote:

scartissue wrote:Randy . . . My grandfather was also an alcoholic, as were many who worked in the film business back then. When I broke into the business, I would hear guys tell me, "your grandfather lit more film sets drunk than most have done sober, and did twice as good a job.". I didn't like hearing that, because I never saw my grandfather drunk. A couple years before I was born, my grandmother, a very strong woman whom he loved more than anything, gave him an ultimatum, "stop drinking, or I'm gone and will never come back." Somehow, thankfully, this did the trick and he just stopped drinking. As a kid, I was kinda restless. I was also small and this made me a bully target. I never backed down and found myself fighting all the time. I discovered that a bully turned into a bitch when they felt a little pain and this taught me something about life. As it turned out, I was fighting all the time, and I wanted to learn how to do it right, because when you fight a lot, you are going to get your ass kicked now and then. I started to watch boxing on TV and immediatly wanted to make that my life's career. I was about ten at the time and nobody had any intention of allowing me to realize that dream. My father was a workaholic and was never around, but when my grandfather retired, he could see that I was heading for trouble. We had been watching boxing together for a couple of years and knew I wanted to be a boxer. One day, after pulling me out of the principal's office for fighting, he made me an offer I couldn't refuse: "You want to box, so I'll take you to where you can learn to box, but you have to do something for me also, and if you don't I won't support your dream to be a boxer." He told me that I'd have to promise to avoid street fighting and to get my grades up to an acceptable level. I jumped at the chance, and within a month, I was not only boxing, but also studying. I had looked up the phone number of a promising young heavyweight named Jerry Quarry, whom I asked where I could learn to be a fighter like he was. Jerry referred me to Johnny Flores and that's where it all began for me. My first bout took place early in 1965 at the Teamsters gym. My grandfather was present at every fight and gym workout I would have for the next four years. In 1968, when I was 16, my grandfather was striken with a ruptured aorta while sitting next to the ring at the Johnny Flores Gym. Johnny rushed him to the hospital, where he died a couple of weeks later. I was 16 at the time, and suddenly alone. We buried my grandfather on a monday, and four days later on a friday, I stepped into the ring at the Eastside Boys club for the first time without my grandfather watching from ringside. Johnny Flores was not there that night, off to N.Y. with Jerry Quarry who was fighting Buster Mathis, so my dad worked my corner. Frank Baltazar matched me with a kid from Stanton AC named Billy Enriquez. The only instructions my dad gave me in the corner before the fight was "Go out and win this for your grandad." And that is exactly what I did, the fight was stopped in the final round. To this day I miss my grandfather, and I wish he could have seen me fight as a pro, and could see me today doing what he used to do, lighting film sets, and even picking up a couple of Emmy citations along the way. By the way, my grandfather used to talk about lighting Betty Davis back in the fifties. In 1983, I became the last person to light Betty Davis before her death, on the pilot for an Aaron Spelling TV series, "HOTEL". Miss Davis made the pilot, then her health prevented her from doing the series. Ironic, huh? Sorry for this trip down the lane of my memory, but . . . whatever.

-Rick

Rick, I don't know what it is when you tell a story, but I somehow end up in the story. Like the one of you LA Golden Glovers on your way to Kansas City...the way you were telling it, I was on the bus too. You really envision them in great detail. The next time you detail one of your old fights, I'll probably have a Q-tip sticking out of my mouth and a towel over my shoulder, working your corner.

Scartissue

bennie wrote:

kikibalt wrote:With me it wasn't my grandad, it was my dad who was an alcohlic, he was a drop dead drunk, I used to fine him passed out in alleys, streets, etc,etc, I remember my mom sending me out to look for my dad in the local bars, when I would fine him I would have to help him home as he was to drunk to make it on his own, he was what we uesd to call back then a "Wino".
In 1950 I was the only boy of 5 siblings, and in 1950 my mom gave birth to my one and only brother, Mando, I remember my dad been drunk as usual telling my mom that, that was his last drunk, that he had taken his last drink, as it turned out it was, my dad passed in 2000 without having a drink for 50 years, I alway used to tell my dad that he was my hero for doing that.

Love you dad....

Amazing. Great man.

bennie wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:You are important, Rick, and I truly appreciate the offer, although, sadly, I cannot see myself making the trip. The taxman, you know. I have met Calzaghe once or twice and he seems like a nice guy, if a little moody, and I 've never been able to understand a word Enzo (his dad/trainer) says; Lewis, no BS, lived right next door to a relative of mine in Crayford in Kent (near London) when he turned pro. His mum came round in tears when Roger Levitt, who backed Lewis, went bust and the house was repossessed. I don't think Lewis has ever forgiven Levitt for allowing that to happen. In court Lewis is a much better fighter than he is in the ring. Incidentally, when the Lewis 'gay' rumours were flying around, I knew for a fact they were false. My auntie told me they could hear him 'entertaining' women (cough, cough) through the rather thin walls we have over here. I also found it amusing when I heard that Lewis, before his biggest (first biggest) win over Razor Ruddock, was 'pumped up' in the back garden by his team before he set off for the fight. They were all stomping around chanting things, much like Araon Pryor's "Hawk Time!"
It beats a barbeque.

Bennie, you will always be welcome to join us in the future and, without a doubt, we will all toast you that night. That was really interesting info you provided on Lennox Lewis. By the way, my ex-girlfriend, who is a production designer in the UK film community, just moved to Kent last year, from a village in Hertsfordshire, Radlett. By the way, I know the tax man better than I'd like to. Just got the bastard off my back last year!

-Rick

kikibalt wrote:With me it wasn't my grandad, it was my dad who was an alcohlic, he was a drop dead drunk, I used to fine him passed out in alleys, streets, etc,etc, I remember my mom sending me out to look for my dad in the local bars, when I would fine him I would have to help him home as he was to drunk to make it on his own, he was what we uesd to call back then a "Wino".
In 1950 I was the only boy of 5 siblings, and in 1950 my mom gave birth to my one and only brother, Mando, I remember my dad been drunk as usual telling my mom that, that was his last drunk, that he had taken his last drink, as it turned out it was, my dad passed in 2000 without having a drink for 50 years, I alway used to tell my dad that he was my hero for doing that.

Love you dad....

bennie wrote:

Rick Farris wrote:You are important, Rick, and I truly appreciate the offer, although, sadly, I cannot see myself making the trip. The taxman, you know. I have met Calzaghe once or twice and he seems like a nice guy, if a little moody, and I 've never been able to understand a word Enzo (his dad/trainer) says; Lewis, no BS, lived right next door to a relative of mine in Crayford in Kent (near London) when he turned pro. His mum came round in tears when Roger Levitt, who backed Lewis, went bust and the house was repossessed. I don't think Lewis has ever forgiven Levitt for allowing that to happen. In court Lewis is a much better fighter than he is in the ring. Incidentally, when the Lewis 'gay' rumours were flying around, I knew for a fact they were false. My auntie told me they could hear him 'entertaining' women (cough, cough) through the rather thin walls we have over here. I also found it amusing when I heard that Lewis, before his biggest (first biggest) win over Razor Ruddock, was 'pumped up' in the back garden by his team before he set off for the fight. They were all stomping around chanting things, much like Araon Pryor's "Hawk Time!"
It beats a barbeque.

Bennie, you will always be welcome to join us in the future and, without a doubt, we will all toast you that night. That was really interesting info you provided on Lennox Lewis. By the way, my ex-girlfriend, who is a production designer in the UK film community, just moved to Kent last year, from a village in Hertsfordshire, Radlett. By the way, I know the tax man better than I'd like to. Just got the bastard off my back last year!

-Rick

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Randy,I would be honored. Just tell me what to do. Rog.

Frank,do you have any more paintings by your cousin? He knows how to do the face. That's the art. The eyes are the window to the soul. You're dad looked like he had plenty. Diego

Randy,

I too would be honored.

By all means do so.

Aurelio Baltazar
November 12, 1913
Mexico

May 11, 2000
Whittier, Ca.

diego, no I don't, I'll see if I can get some, btw thats what he does for a living, and its a good living.

Bobbin & Weavin wrote:

kikibalt wrote:With me it wasn't my grandad, it was my dad who was an alcohlic, he was a drop dead drunk, I used to fine him passed out in alleys, streets, etc,etc, I remember my mom sending me out to look for my dad in the local bars, when I would fine him I would have to help him home as he was to drunk to make it on his own, he was what we uesd to call back then a "Wino".
In 1950 I was the only boy of 5 siblings, and in 1950 my mom gave birth to my one and only brother, Mando, I remember my dad been drunk as usual telling my mom that, that was his last drunk, that he had taken his last drink, as it turned out it was, my dad passed in 2000 without having a drink for 50 years, I alway used to tell my dad that he was my hero for doing that.

Love you dad....

Wow I am sure glad I read this thread in the privacy of the back room because Frank really got me on this one. My mother was an alcoholic and though she tried to quit it just never happened and it got her about 14 years ago at the young age of 60. Last week my father told me that he has throat cancer and so a lot of stuff is going through my head. Even my father who had been divorced from my mother for years before her death told me last week he felt responsible for her drinking problem. Although I'm here in Nor-Cal & my boxing experience was with a different group of people in S.F. I feel a major connection with you guys & I'm gald that I have been able to get to know you from the outside in this thread, heck I even go back and reread pages when I catch up with the new ones. You guys are the most real people I have had the pleasure to meet in a long time.
Thanks for this thread

Bobbin & Weavin

Randyman wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

dagosd2000 wrote:Randy,I would be honored. Just tell me what to do. Rog.

Frank,do you have any more paintings by your cousin? He knows how to do the face. That's the art. The eyes are the window to the soul. You're dad looked like he had plenty. Diego

Randy,

I too would be honored.

By all means do so.

Aurelio Baltazar
November 12, 1913
Mexico

May 11, 2000
Whittier, Ca.

diego, no I don't, I'll see if I can get some, btw thats what he does for a living, and its a good living.

Okay Frank, it's on the website http://boxing-ring.blogspot.com/
What a great painting!

Rick Farris wrote:

bennie wrote:

kikibalt wrote:With me it wasn't my grandad, it was my dad who was an alcohlic, he was a drop dead drunk, I used to fine him passed out in alleys, streets, etc,etc, I remember my mom sending me out to look for my dad in the local bars, when I would fine him I would have to help him home as he was to drunk to make it on his own, he was what we uesd to call back then a "Wino".
In 1950 I was the only boy of 5 siblings, and in 1950 my mom gave birth to my one and only brother, Mando, I remember my dad been drunk as usual telling my mom that, that was his last drunk, that he had taken his last drink, as it turned out it was, my dad passed in 2000 without having a drink for 50 years, I alway used to tell my dad that he was my hero for doing that.

Love you dad....

Amazing. Great man.

Ditto! He must have been quite a guy, he produced you, Frank. And you have produced some special kids yourself! By the way, my old man and Scar's pop will be with us at our tables in November, as they were last year. They are both in their mid-80's and a lot of fun to be with.

-Rick

Bobbin & Weavin wrote:

kikibalt wrote:With me it wasn't my grandad, it was my dad who was an alcohlic, he was a drop dead drunk, I used to fine him passed out in alleys, streets, etc,etc, I remember my mom sending me out to look for my dad in the local bars, when I would fine him I would have to help him home as he was to drunk to make it on his own, he was what we uesd to call back then a "Wino".
In 1950 I was the only boy of 5 siblings, and in 1950 my mom gave birth to my one and only brother, Mando, I remember my dad been drunk as usual telling my mom that, that was his last drunk, that he had taken his last drink, as it turned out it was, my dad passed in 2000 without having a drink for 50 years, I alway used to tell my dad that he was my hero for doing that.

Love you dad....

Wow I am sure glad I read this thread in the privacy of the back room because Frank really got me on this one. My mother was an alcoholic and though she tried to quit it just never happened and it got her about 14 years ago at the young age of 60. Last week my father told me that he has throat cancer and so a lot of stuff is going through my head. Even my father who had been divorced from my mother for years before her death told me last week he felt responsible for her drinking problem. Although I'm here in Nor-Cal & my boxing experience was with a different group of people in S.F. I feel a major connection with you guys & I'm gald that I have been able to get to know you from the outside in this thread, heck I even go back and reread pages when I catch up with the new ones. You guys are the most real people I have had the pleasure to meet in a long time.
Thanks for this thread

Bobbin & Weavin

Bobbin & Weavin wrote:B & W, you and anybody else is welcome in this thread, all we ask is that we all respect each other.

Expug wrote:

Bobbin & Weavin wrote:

kikibalt wrote:With me it wasn't my grandad, it was my dad who was an alcohlic, he was a drop dead drunk, I used to fine him passed out in alleys, streets, etc,etc, I remember my mom sending me out to look for my dad in the local bars, when I would fine him I would have to help him home as he was to drunk to make it on his own, he was what we uesd to call back then a "Wino".
In 1950 I was the only boy of 5 siblings, and in 1950 my mom gave birth to my one and only brother, Mando, I remember my dad been drunk as usual telling my mom that, that was his last drunk, that he had taken his last drink, as it turned out it was, my dad passed in 2000 without having a drink for 50 years, I alway used to tell my dad that he was my hero for doing that.

Love you dad....

Wow I am sure glad I read this thread in the privacy of the back room because Frank really got me on this one. My mother was an alcoholic and though she tried to quit it just never happened and it got her about 14 years ago at the young age of 60. Last week my father told me that he has throat cancer and so a lot of stuff is going through my head. Even my father who had been divorced from my mother for years before her death told me last week he felt responsible for her drinking problem. Although I'm here in Nor-Cal & my boxing experience was with a different group of people in S.F. I feel a major connection with you guys & I'm gald that I have been able to get to know you from the outside in this thread, heck I even go back and reread pages when I catch up with the new ones. You guys are the most real people I have had the pleasure to meet in a long time.
Thanks for this thread

Bobbin & Weavin

I know what you guys are talking about beleive me.
Growing up for me it was My Father and Mother both who were alcoholic.
My Dad finally kicked the booze when I was about 18 but Mom just couldnt do it .
Shes dead now. Emphesyma took her in 2001.
It was for me an important lesson, as when my kids were born, I swore off the hooch.
There was no way it was gonna be a gift that keeps on giving.
Its rough on a kid growing up in chaos, it really is.But ,it gave me an edge.Maybe not a good one but an edge nonetheless.

Expug wrote:Its hard losing Mom , needless to say. Mine was 63. Too young.
2001 was a rough year for us both I guess Frank.