BoxRec

OK, Frankie. Best wishes.

bennie wrote:

kikibalt wrote:

bennie wrote:Look at the ref in those shots. Good distance. Today, the refs are way too close to the fighters. Some of them actually make me swear at the TV, they are so close.

You're right Bennie, I always say "A good referee, is one that you don't see"

You know, Frankie, I can't even watch Hagler-Hearns because of Steele.

Good point, Frank. I remember Johnnie Flores used to warn me about laying on the ropes too much when George Latka was the ref. ""He doesn't pay attention to who's in control, he stops fights too early."

Rest in Peace "Professor".


-Rick

Photos and caption courtesy of Bruce Smith

dagosd2000=Post subject: Re: Classic American West Coast BoxingPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 There used to be a middle weight who boxed in the area named Victor Basilio. I think he was originally from Brawley. When Louie Rodriguez was to fight Rafa Gutierrez here in San Diego,Basilio was on the undercard. Rodriguez was working for a shot at Benvenuti's title. I posted this before about the actual fight which looked a little funny. Louie getting the shit kicked out of him for 5 rounds. Then a big left hook in the 6th puts Rafa to sleep. My father goes up to Angelo and says,"You've got your shot" and they go into thr locker room. So much for that.

Basilio trained with Rodriguez. Louie seemed moody down here. He didn't have any one to work with that would push him. Angelo arrived the final week. I remember Jose Napoles came to camp. The Cubans were very close. They had to fight the Castro stigma along with their opponents.

Victor Basilio got a lot of work with Rodriguez. One day they put on an exhibition in Mexicali. Both camps went there for the day. The way I heard it was Basilo was sparring with Louie. Both boys are "marking" their punches. Finally Basilio is looking at Rodriguez and says to himself that Louie looks small for a middle weight. Kind of frail. They're working in there and Basilio decides to throw a good right hand. Well he catches Louie with it and he staggers back. Now Basilio comes forward.

I heard Basilio tell this back in San Diego. He said he wanted to land some more,but the next thing he saw was the sky! Basilio was flat on his back. He couldn't for the life of him understand what happened. He said Rodriguez is standing over him and told him that the understanding was we were going to "pull" our punches. Then you had to get cute. That's why you were looking up at the clouds. Do that again and you can go home.


Dagos,
Here are some pictures I took of Rodriguez & Gutierrez when they were training at Newman & Herman's Gym for their San Francisco rematch in 1971; Gutierrez won this fight by a sixth round KO. Basilio also fought on the card losing by KO to Ralph McCoy in two. In the picture showing Rodriguez sparring he is doing so with Kim Booker nephew of WBOF member Eddie Booker. Kim had a decent career spanning the late sixties and early seventies. Booker beat Orlando de la Fuentes in a ten round bout on the same card.
Bobbin & Weavin

Joe Louis & co.

Vic Alexander shadow-boxing in ring, circa 1920

Billy Peacock[/b]

The last time I seen Peacock was about 1959-60, at the Teamsters Gym, L.A., he was
walking on his heels, but he sure was happy, laughing and have a grand old time
with us.

Seeing those photos of Luis made me sentimental. This is a piece I wrote for CBZ when he died.
========================.
A Champion's Funeral

Mourners began arriving at the Bernardo Garcia-Brake Funeral Home in the early evening, while the Miami sun still bathed Seventh Street with a dim light.

In the lobby, a black board with plastic stick-on letters announced that the mortal remains of Luis Manuel Rodriquez could be viewed in Room Nine.

Frankie Otero, former junior lightweight contender stood next to me as we gazed down on a withered corpse, neatly dressed in suit and tie.

The body in the casket had a stone expression.

"It doesn't look like Luis," Frankie said.

"It's because he's not smiling," I answered, "you are not used to seeing him not smiling."

I turned away. I did to want to remember him like this, crated for eternal sleep.

The first time I saw him, I was a little kid, and he, a dozen years older, was then a young pro, undefeated in Havana rings. He stood on the sidewalk and performed for the children who recognized him, shadowboxing, soft shoe dancing and capping off the performance with an opera aria sung with a clear, crisp voice. Then, he shook our hands and walked away, laughing. He was cool.

Luis Manuel Rodriguez was born in Camaguey, in Western Cuba in 1937. By the time he was eighteen he had won several televised talent shows, as a dancer and crooner. He had also become Cuba's top amateur boxing talent, winning the national amateur title with ten straight knockouts.

He was a natural. Luis Rodriguez with his thin legs, round chest, wide nose and flashing smile did not look intimidating, but the black welterweight from Camaguey was a slick boxer with a crisp punch, dazzling speed and a cement chin.

Rodriguez turned pro two weeks before his nineteenth birthday. In thirty months he racked up eighteen wins and one no-contest, a bout stopped by rain at an outdoor arena. His undefeated ledger shows two wins over another young prospect also destined to wear a championship belt, Benny Paret, a knockout over spoiler Charlie Austin, a triumph over future British Empire Middleweight Champion Gomeo Brennan, and a clear victory of fringe contender Kid Fichique.

The year 1959 was sweet. Luis out-slicked former welterweight king Virgil Atkins, and scored six other wins over top-rated fighters. Joe Miceli, a veteran of over a hundred bouts was stopped in five, Cecil Shorts was finished off in nine. Isaac Logart was outboxed in ten.

The time was coming to leave Cuba. Fidel Castro was executing opponents by the thousands and laying out the foundations of a Marxist dictatorship. Luis Rodriguez headed to Miami, where thousands of his fellow countrymen had sought exile over political repression.

In the three year period from 1960-1962 he fought twenty-five times. He lost two close fights with Emile Griffith and Curtis Cokes, while outscoring Cokes in a rematch. He beat former champion Akins a second time, out-pointed and stopped middleweight Yama Bahama in two matches, knocked out tough Gene Armstrong in a televised bout, outfoxed top rated Federico Thompson and Chico Vejar, and became the first fighter to stop brawler Ricardo Falech.

In his corner, the flashy Cuban had a trio of legendary fight men: Angelo Dundee, Luis Sarria and Ferdie Pacheco.

"He was an incredible fighter," Ferdie Pacheco often told me, "Luis could fight on the inside or from a distance. He could attack or counter punch. He had a test jab and he would fire quick shots to the body then switch to the head. He slipped punches with ease, and he was very difficult to hit. Even when one could nail him in a solid shot, the follow up was impossible. Luis would slip and dance and bob and weave. If you were really good, you could hit Luis Rodriguez a clean shot, but it was almost impossible to nail him twice in a row. . ."

“Ali studied Luis,” Angelo Dundee said, “When Luis was sparring you would see Ali watching, studying how Luis would step in and throw an uppercut or how he would move at an angle to make the guy miss. Ali respected Luis because Luis was the complete package. He could box outside or fight inside or at middle distance. Luis was a complete fighter.”

When Pacheco went on a ten city radio tour to promote his books, he was invariably asked who was the best fighter -besides Ali- that he had ever worked with and the answer over the radio, on ten occasions was: Luis Rodriguez.

"At the Fifth Street Gym," Frankie Otero remembers, "Luis sparred with fighters that were ten, twenty, thirty pounds heavier. Guys like Florentino Fernandez and Willie Pastrano, and Luis was trouble for anyone."

The greatest moment of his life came in Los Angeles, in 1963, when Rodriguez outscored nemesis Emile Griffith to win the welterweight crown. Less than three months later, Rodriquez lost his title in a hotly disputed fifteen rounder in New York, Griffith's hometown.

"I won the fight and lost the championship," Rodriguez stated several years ago, "It was New York. You need a flamethrower to beat Griffith in New York."

Rodriguez was not one to shine about a defeat. Nine weeks after losing the crown, he squared off against Denny Moyer in a Miami Beach ring. Moyer, a former junior middleweight champion, was a veteran of forty-six pro fights. Moyer had wins over a distinguished group of champions including Emile Griffith, Johnny Saxton, Virgil Akins, Sugar Ray Robinson, Benny Paret and Tony De Marco. The Oregon fighter had never been stopped.

Luis Rodriguez turned the trick. The Cuban out boxed Moyer, winning the lion's share of the first eight rounds. Attacking sometimes and countering others, Rodriguez decked Moyer in the ninth, stopping the Portland fighter.

"The Moyer fight was a magnificent performance," remembers Hank Kaplan, "then Luis had another heartbreak squeaker with Griffith. But what was really amazing was the way Luis plowed right through the middleweights. He fought the top fighters in the world in their backyards, spotted them ten or fifteen pounds, and licked them. Those that wanted a second shot, he gave a rematch, and licked them again."

Ruben Carter was the most feared middleweight in the world. The muscled, skull shaved, Fu Manchu mustachioed ex-convict had scored clean first round knockouts over Emile Griffith and Florentino Fernandez. The thin welterweight from Cuba fought Carter twice, winning both.

Skeeter McClure was a full-fledged unbeaten middleweight, a Gold Medalist from the 1960 Olympic Games. Luis decked McClure and beat him twice.

George Benton was a top contender that champions avoided. The crafty and solid punching Benton was no match for Rodriguez. Benton was stopped on cuts, for the first time in his career, in the ninth.

Rocky Rivero was a knockout puncher who had fought two wars with Joey Giardello. Rodriguez beat him easily over ten rounds.

Benny Briscoe was the hottest prospect in the middleweights, a tough left hooker from Philadelphia, destined to fight a draw with Carlos Monzon. Rodriguez beat Briscoe twice.

Future light heavyweight king Vicente Rondon won the first bout but Rodriguez won the second match.

"Luis was unfazed," remembers Hank Kaplan, "he was never bothered by how big a fighter was or how many knockouts he had. . . he was a welterweight fighting middleweights and light-heavies, and if they would have let him, he would have fought Ali. Luis Rodriguez belongs in the Boxing Hall of Fame."

After losing on cuts to Curtis Cokes in a title bout, Rodriguez had concentrated on the pursuit of the middleweight crown. On November 22, 1969, he toed the scratch against Nino Benvenuti, in Rome.
For ten rounds, Rodriguez outfoxed the Italian. He seemed headed for a second title belt, until a desperate Benvenuti threw a tremendous left hook that exploded against Luis' chin in the eleventh round. Rodriguez was stopped cold.

"It was the best punch Benvenuti ever threw," Luis Sarria once told me, "and when it landed, I knew it was over That punch would have knocked down a heavyweight."

Luis Rodriguez continued fighting for three more years. He still beat some top fighters, losing and winning to Jose Gonzalez, out pointing Bobby Cassidy and knocking out Tony Mundine. Back to back losses to club fighter Mike Lancaster and prospect Donato Paduano, convinced the thirty-four year old Rodriguez to hang up the eight-ouncers.

His 107-13-1 record included 49 knockout wins, and only 3 kayo losses.

After retirement he had trained amateur boxers, owned a bar, worked in a warehouse, and discovered booze. The last two years of his life were a nightmare of dialysis treatments. He was fifty-nine years old when death came to him in a Miami Beach hospital, near the Miami Beach Convention Center, where he had beaten Denny Moyer and a score of other good fighters.

Near the coffin there was a painting of a young Luis Rodriguez, wearing a title belt and boxing trunks. It was a Ferdie Pacheco original, brought by the fight doctor as a gift to the family.

In the picture, Luis was smiling.

Great article Henry....

Henry Armstrong & co.

Henry Armstrong vs Jimmy Garrison

Benny Jones, Sammy Odell & Bobby Delgardo

Frankie Baltazar...2007

Actually Kikibalt, your nickname is Kiki and so is mine. Glad you enjoyed it.

enrique wrote:Actually Kikibalt, your nickname is Kiki and so is mine. Glad you enjoyed it.

I been KiKi as long as I can remember, thats about 67-68 years....

enrique wrote:Seeing those photos of Luis made me sentimental. This is a piece I wrote for CBZ when he died.
========================.
A Champion's Funeral

Mourners began arriving at the Bernardo Garcia-Brake Funeral Home in the early evening, while the Miami sun still bathed Seventh Street with a dim light.

In the lobby, a black board with plastic stick-on letters announced that the mortal remains of Luis Manuel Rodriquez could be viewed in Room Nine.

Frankie Otero, former junior lightweight contender stood next to me as we gazed down on a withered corpse, neatly dressed in suit and tie.

The body in the casket had a stone expression.

"It doesn't look like Luis," Frankie said.

"It's because he's not smiling," I answered, "you are not used to seeing him not smiling."

I turned away. I did to want to remember him like this, crated for eternal sleep.

The first time I saw him, I was a little kid, and he, a dozen years older, was then a young pro, undefeated in Havana rings. He stood on the sidewalk and performed for the children who recognized him, shadowboxing, soft shoe dancing and capping off the performance with an opera aria sung with a clear, crisp voice. Then, he shook our hands and walked away, laughing. He was cool.

Luis Manuel Rodriguez was born in Camaguey, in Western Cuba in 1937. By the time he was eighteen he had won several televised talent shows, as a dancer and crooner. He had also become Cuba's top amateur boxing talent, winning the national amateur title with ten straight knockouts.

He was a natural. Luis Rodriguez with his thin legs, round chest, wide nose and flashing smile did not look intimidating, but the black welterweight from Camaguey was a slick boxer with a crisp punch, dazzling speed and a cement chin.

Rodriguez turned pro two weeks before his nineteenth birthday. In thirty months he racked up eighteen wins and one no-contest, a bout stopped by rain at an outdoor arena. His undefeated ledger shows two wins over another young prospect also destined to wear a championship belt, Benny Paret, a knockout over spoiler Charlie Austin, a triumph over future British Empire Middleweight Champion Gomeo Brennan, and a clear victory of fringe contender Kid Fichique.

The year 1959 was sweet. Luis out-slicked former welterweight king Virgil Atkins, and scored six other wins over top-rated fighters. Joe Miceli, a veteran of over a hundred bouts was stopped in five, Cecil Shorts was finished off in nine. Isaac Logart was outboxed in ten.

The time was coming to leave Cuba. Fidel Castro was executing opponents by the thousands and laying out the foundations of a Marxist dictatorship. Luis Rodriguez headed to Miami, where thousands of his fellow countrymen had sought exile over political repression.

In the three year period from 1960-1962 he fought twenty-five times. He lost two close fights with Emile Griffith and Curtis Cokes, while outscoring Cokes in a rematch. He beat former champion Akins a second time, out-pointed and stopped middleweight Yama Bahama in two matches, knocked out tough Gene Armstrong in a televised bout, outfoxed top rated Federico Thompson and Chico Vejar, and became the first fighter to stop brawler Ricardo Falech.

In his corner, the flashy Cuban had a trio of legendary fight men: Angelo Dundee, Luis Sarria and Ferdie Pacheco.

"He was an incredible fighter," Ferdie Pacheco often told me, "Luis could fight on the inside or from a distance. He could attack or counter punch. He had a test jab and he would fire quick shots to the body then switch to the head. He slipped punches with ease, and he was very difficult to hit. Even when one could nail him in a solid shot, the follow up was impossible. Luis would slip and dance and bob and weave. If you were really good, you could hit Luis Rodriguez a clean shot, but it was almost impossible to nail him twice in a row. . ."

"Ali studied Luis," Angelo Dundee said, "When Luis was sparring you would see Ali watching, studying how Luis would step in and throw an uppercut or how he would move at an angle to make the guy miss. Ali respected Luis because Luis was the complete package. He could box outside or fight inside or at middle distance. Luis was a complete fighter."

When Pacheco went on a ten city radio tour to promote his books, he was invariably asked who was the best fighter -besides Ali- that he had ever worked with and the answer over the radio, on ten occasions was: Luis Rodriguez.

"At the Fifth Street Gym," Frankie Otero remembers, "Luis sparred with fighters that were ten, twenty, thirty pounds heavier. Guys like Florentino Fernandez and Willie Pastrano, and Luis was trouble for anyone."

The greatest moment of his life came in Los Angeles, in 1963, when Rodriguez outscored nemesis Emile Griffith to win the welterweight crown. Less than three months later, Rodriquez lost his title in a hotly disputed fifteen rounder in New York, Griffith's hometown.

"I won the fight and lost the championship," Rodriguez stated several years ago, "It was New York. You need a flamethrower to beat Griffith in New York."

Rodriguez was not one to shine about a defeat. Nine weeks after losing the crown, he squared off against Denny Moyer in a Miami Beach ring. Moyer, a former junior middleweight champion, was a veteran of forty-six pro fights. Moyer had wins over a distinguished group of champions including Emile Griffith, Johnny Saxton, Virgil Akins, Sugar Ray Robinson, Benny Paret and Tony De Marco. The Oregon fighter had never been stopped.

Luis Rodriguez turned the trick. The Cuban out boxed Moyer, winning the lion's share of the first eight rounds. Attacking sometimes and countering others, Rodriguez decked Moyer in the ninth, stopping the Portland fighter.

"The Moyer fight was a magnificent performance," remembers Hank Kaplan, "then Luis had another heartbreak squeaker with Griffith. But what was really amazing was the way Luis plowed right through the middleweights. He fought the top fighters in the world in their backyards, spotted them ten or fifteen pounds, and licked them. Those that wanted a second shot, he gave a rematch, and licked them again."

Ruben Carter was the most feared middleweight in the world. The muscled, skull shaved, Fu Manchu mustachioed ex-convict had scored clean first round knockouts over Emile Griffith and Florentino Fernandez. The thin welterweight from Cuba fought Carter twice, winning both.

Skeeter McClure was a full-fledged unbeaten middleweight, a Gold Medalist from the 1960 Olympic Games. Luis decked McClure and beat him twice.

George Benton was a top contender that champions avoided. The crafty and solid punching Benton was no match for Rodriguez. Benton was stopped on cuts, for the first time in his career, in the ninth.

Rocky Rivero was a knockout puncher who had fought two wars with Joey Giardello. Rodriguez beat him easily over ten rounds.

Benny Briscoe was the hottest prospect in the middleweights, a tough left hooker from Philadelphia, destined to fight a draw with Carlos Monzon. Rodriguez beat Briscoe twice.

Future light heavyweight king Vicente Rondon won the first bout but Rodriguez won the second match.

"Luis was unfazed," remembers Hank Kaplan, "he was never bothered by how big a fighter was or how many knockouts he had. . . he was a welterweight fighting middleweights and light-heavies, and if they would have let him, he would have fought Ali. Luis Rodriguez belongs in the Boxing Hall of Fame."

After losing on cuts to Curtis Cokes in a title bout, Rodriguez had concentrated on the pursuit of the middleweight crown. On November 22, 1969, he toed the scratch against Nino Benvenuti, in Rome.
For ten rounds, Rodriguez outfoxed the Italian. He seemed headed for a second title belt, until a desperate Benvenuti threw a tremendous left hook that exploded against Luis' chin in the eleventh round. Rodriguez was stopped cold.

"It was the best punch Benvenuti ever threw," Luis Sarria once told me, "and when it landed, I knew it was over That punch would have knocked down a heavyweight."

Luis Rodriguez continued fighting for three more years. He still beat some top fighters, losing and winning to Jose Gonzalez, out pointing Bobby Cassidy and knocking out Tony Mundine. Back to back losses to club fighter Mike Lancaster and prospect Donato Paduano, convinced the thirty-four year old Rodriguez to hang up the eight-ouncers.

His 107-13-1 record included 49 knockout wins, and only 3 kayo losses.

After retirement he had trained amateur boxers, owned a bar, worked in a warehouse, and discovered booze. The last two years of his life were a nightmare of dialysis treatments. He was fifty-nine years old when death came to him in a Miami Beach hospital, near the Miami Beach Convention Center, where he had beaten Denny Moyer and a score of other good fighters.

Near the coffin there was a painting of a young Luis Rodriguez, wearing a title belt and boxing trunks. It was a Ferdie Pacheco original, brought by the fight doctor as a gift to the family.

In the picture, Luis was smiling.

Great story, Enrique!

enrique wrote:Roger, you asked aboutr Ciro Morasen.

Ciro was a fabulous, very slick boxer who was world rated in spite of the fact that he fought mostly in Cuba. Cuban old timers consider him on the same level with Gavilan, Napoles or Luis Manuel Rodriguez, even though Ciro never fought for a title.

Sportswriters refered to him as a one armed fighter because he had fragile hands and won many a bout using only a very fast, accurate jab.

In the sixties, after pro boxing was abolished in Cuba, Ciro became a political prisoner in Castro's concentration camps for a few years. Later he could not adapt to communism and comited suicide in his native city of Santiago.

Incredible story. Thanks Enrique.

kikibalt wrote:Photos and caption courtesy of Bruce Smith

dagosd2000=Post subject: Re: Classic American West Coast BoxingPosted: Thu Sep 11, 2008 There used to be a middle weight who boxed in the area named Victor Basilio. I think he was originally from Brawley. When Louie Rodriguez was to fight Rafa Gutierrez here in San Diego,Basilio was on the undercard. Rodriguez was working for a shot at Benvenuti's title. I posted this before about the actual fight which looked a little funny. Louie getting the shit kicked out of him for 5 rounds. Then a big left hook in the 6th puts Rafa to sleep. My father goes up to Angelo and says,"You've got your shot" and they go into thr locker room. So much for that.

Basilio trained with Rodriguez. Louie seemed moody down here. He didn't have any one to work with that would push him. Angelo arrived the final week. I remember Jose Napoles came to camp. The Cubans were very close. They had to fight the Castro stigma along with their opponents.

Victor Basilio got a lot of work with Rodriguez. One day they put on an exhibition in Mexicali. Both camps went there for the day. The way I heard it was Basilo was sparring with Louie. Both boys are "marking" their punches. Finally Basilio is looking at Rodriguez and says to himself that Louie looks small for a middle weight. Kind of frail. They're working in there and Basilio decides to throw a good right hand. Well he catches Louie with it and he staggers back. Now Basilio comes forward.

I heard Basilio tell this back in San Diego. He said he wanted to land some more,but the next thing he saw was the sky! Basilio was flat on his back. He couldn't for the life of him understand what happened. He said Rodriguez is standing over him and told him that the understanding was we were going to "pull" our punches. Then you had to get cute. That's why you were looking up at the clouds. Do that again and you can go home.


Dagos,
Here are some pictures I took of Rodriguez & Gutierrez when they were training at Newman & Herman's Gym for their San Francisco rematch in 1971; Gutierrez won this fight by a sixth round KO. Basilio also fought on the card losing by KO to Ralph McCoy in two. In the picture showing Rodriguez sparring he is doing so with Kim Booker nephew of WBOF member Eddie Booker. Kim had a decent career spanning the late sixties and early seventies. Booker beat Orlando de la Fuentes in a ten round bout on the same card.
Bobbin & Weavin

Good candid shots Frank. Real good. Bobbin,you've got any more shots like that?

kikibalt wrote:Photo and caption by Diego


My father(boy with tie) and Al Capone at Wrigley Field Chicago

Before anyone jumps in and says that's not my father,but Al's son Sonny Capone,I want to clear the air. When Al went to the Cub game that day,Sonny was sick. He was going to bring Sonny and my father. After my grandfather was murdered,Capone brought my father to live with him. My father grew uo with Sonny.

There are history books that claim the boy in the picture is Sonny. It's my father. Some recent histories of Capone have made the correction. Al Capone's wife,Mae,believed my father was going to be a bad influence on Sonny. One of Sonny's daughters,Annette,lives north of us. She also says that's not her father in the photograph,but my father. The ball player is Gabby Hartnett. In back of Capone is his bodyguard,Machine Gun Jack McGurn.

enrique wrote:Seeing those photos of Luis made me sentimental. This is a piece I wrote for CBZ when he died.
========================.
A Champion's Funeral

Mourners began arriving at the Bernardo Garcia-Brake Funeral Home in the early evening, while the Miami sun still bathed Seventh Street with a dim light.

In the lobby, a black board with plastic stick-on letters announced that the mortal remains of Luis Manuel Rodriquez could be viewed in Room Nine.

Frankie Otero, former junior lightweight contender stood next to me as we gazed down on a withered corpse, neatly dressed in suit and tie.

The body in the casket had a stone expression.

"It doesn't look like Luis," Frankie said.

"It's because he's not smiling," I answered, "you are not used to seeing him not smiling."

I turned away. I did to want to remember him like this, crated for eternal sleep.

The first time I saw him, I was a little kid, and he, a dozen years older, was then a young pro, undefeated in Havana rings. He stood on the sidewalk and performed for the children who recognized him, shadowboxing, soft shoe dancing and capping off the performance with an opera aria sung with a clear, crisp voice. Then, he shook our hands and walked away, laughing. He was cool.

Luis Manuel Rodriguez was born in Camaguey, in Western Cuba in 1937. By the time he was eighteen he had won several televised talent shows, as a dancer and crooner. He had also become Cuba's top amateur boxing talent, winning the national amateur title with ten straight knockouts.

He was a natural. Luis Rodriguez with his thin legs, round chest, wide nose and flashing smile did not look intimidating, but the black welterweight from Camaguey was a slick boxer with a crisp punch, dazzling speed and a cement chin.

Rodriguez turned pro two weeks before his nineteenth birthday. In thirty months he racked up eighteen wins and one no-contest, a bout stopped by rain at an outdoor arena. His undefeated ledger shows two wins over another young prospect also destined to wear a championship belt, Benny Paret, a knockout over spoiler Charlie Austin, a triumph over future British Empire Middleweight Champion Gomeo Brennan, and a clear victory of fringe contender Kid Fichique.

The year 1959 was sweet. Luis out-slicked former welterweight king Virgil Atkins, and scored six other wins over top-rated fighters. Joe Miceli, a veteran of over a hundred bouts was stopped in five, Cecil Shorts was finished off in nine. Isaac Logart was outboxed in ten.

The time was coming to leave Cuba. Fidel Castro was executing opponents by the thousands and laying out the foundations of a Marxist dictatorship. Luis Rodriguez headed to Miami, where thousands of his fellow countrymen had sought exile over political repression.

In the three year period from 1960-1962 he fought twenty-five times. He lost two close fights with Emile Griffith and Curtis Cokes, while outscoring Cokes in a rematch. He beat former champion Akins a second time, out-pointed and stopped middleweight Yama Bahama in two matches, knocked out tough Gene Armstrong in a televised bout, outfoxed top rated Federico Thompson and Chico Vejar, and became the first fighter to stop brawler Ricardo Falech.

In his corner, the flashy Cuban had a trio of legendary fight men: Angelo Dundee, Luis Sarria and Ferdie Pacheco.

"He was an incredible fighter," Ferdie Pacheco often told me, "Luis could fight on the inside or from a distance. He could attack or counter punch. He had a test jab and he would fire quick shots to the body then switch to the head. He slipped punches with ease, and he was very difficult to hit. Even when one could nail him in a solid shot, the follow up was impossible. Luis would slip and dance and bob and weave. If you were really good, you could hit Luis Rodriguez a clean shot, but it was almost impossible to nail him twice in a row. . ."

“Ali studied Luis,” Angelo Dundee said, “When Luis was sparring you would see Ali watching, studying how Luis would step in and throw an uppercut or how he would move at an angle to make the guy miss. Ali respected Luis because Luis was the complete package. He could box outside or fight inside or at middle distance. Luis was a complete fighter.”

When Pacheco went on a ten city radio tour to promote his books, he was invariably asked who was the best fighter -besides Ali- that he had ever worked with and the answer over the radio, on ten occasions was: Luis Rodriguez.

"At the Fifth Street Gym," Frankie Otero remembers, "Luis sparred with fighters that were ten, twenty, thirty pounds heavier. Guys like Florentino Fernandez and Willie Pastrano, and Luis was trouble for anyone."

The greatest moment of his life came in Los Angeles, in 1963, when Rodriguez outscored nemesis Emile Griffith to win the welterweight crown. Less than three months later, Rodriquez lost his title in a hotly disputed fifteen rounder in New York, Griffith's hometown.

"I won the fight and lost the championship," Rodriguez stated several years ago, "It was New York. You need a flamethrower to beat Griffith in New York."

Rodriguez was not one to shine about a defeat. Nine weeks after losing the crown, he squared off against Denny Moyer in a Miami Beach ring. Moyer, a former junior middleweight champion, was a veteran of forty-six pro fights. Moyer had wins over a distinguished group of champions including Emile Griffith, Johnny Saxton, Virgil Akins, Sugar Ray Robinson, Benny Paret and Tony De Marco. The Oregon fighter had never been stopped.

Luis Rodriguez turned the trick. The Cuban out boxed Moyer, winning the lion's share of the first eight rounds. Attacking sometimes and countering others, Rodriguez decked Moyer in the ninth, stopping the Portland fighter.

"The Moyer fight was a magnificent performance," remembers Hank Kaplan, "then Luis had another heartbreak squeaker with Griffith. But what was really amazing was the way Luis plowed right through the middleweights. He fought the top fighters in the world in their backyards, spotted them ten or fifteen pounds, and licked them. Those that wanted a second shot, he gave a rematch, and licked them again."

Ruben Carter was the most feared middleweight in the world. The muscled, skull shaved, Fu Manchu mustachioed ex-convict had scored clean first round knockouts over Emile Griffith and Florentino Fernandez. The thin welterweight from Cuba fought Carter twice, winning both.

Skeeter McClure was a full-fledged unbeaten middleweight, a Gold Medalist from the 1960 Olympic Games. Luis decked McClure and beat him twice.

George Benton was a top contender that champions avoided. The crafty and solid punching Benton was no match for Rodriguez. Benton was stopped on cuts, for the first time in his career, in the ninth.

Rocky Rivero was a knockout puncher who had fought two wars with Joey Giardello. Rodriguez beat him easily over ten rounds.

Benny Briscoe was the hottest prospect in the middleweights, a tough left hooker from Philadelphia, destined to fight a draw with Carlos Monzon. Rodriguez beat Briscoe twice.

Future light heavyweight king Vicente Rondon won the first bout but Rodriguez won the second match.

"Luis was unfazed," remembers Hank Kaplan, "he was never bothered by how big a fighter was or how many knockouts he had. . . he was a welterweight fighting middleweights and light-heavies, and if they would have let him, he would have fought Ali. Luis Rodriguez belongs in the Boxing Hall of Fame."

After losing on cuts to Curtis Cokes in a title bout, Rodriguez had concentrated on the pursuit of the middleweight crown. On November 22, 1969, he toed the scratch against Nino Benvenuti, in Rome.
For ten rounds, Rodriguez outfoxed the Italian. He seemed headed for a second title belt, until a desperate Benvenuti threw a tremendous left hook that exploded against Luis' chin in the eleventh round. Rodriguez was stopped cold.

"It was the best punch Benvenuti ever threw," Luis Sarria once told me, "and when it landed, I knew it was over That punch would have knocked down a heavyweight."

Luis Rodriguez continued fighting for three more years. He still beat some top fighters, losing and winning to Jose Gonzalez, out pointing Bobby Cassidy and knocking out Tony Mundine. Back to back losses to club fighter Mike Lancaster and prospect Donato Paduano, convinced the thirty-four year old Rodriguez to hang up the eight-ouncers.

His 107-13-1 record included 49 knockout wins, and only 3 kayo losses.

After retirement he had trained amateur boxers, owned a bar, worked in a warehouse, and discovered booze. The last two years of his life were a nightmare of dialysis treatments. He was fifty-nine years old when death came to him in a Miami Beach hospital, near the Miami Beach Convention Center, where he had beaten Denny Moyer and a score of other good fighters.

Near the coffin there was a painting of a young Luis Rodriguez, wearing a title belt and boxing trunks. It was a Ferdie Pacheco original, brought by the fight doctor as a gift to the family.

In the picture, Luis was smiling.

Nice piece Enrique