BoxRec

In over 50 years, I've seen some really strange and funny things in the game. If you're interested, I have a ton of them.

john garfield

Yeah, post some.

Saad,

Here are a couple. Hope you enjoy them. Let me know and I'll post some more:

A quick memory comes to me: A friend of mine named Tommy Gallagher, a trainer, was flying to Sweden with the the U.S. Amateur Boxing Team. Gallagher was with a tough, young welterweight who'd barely had gone to school.

At one point in the flight, the kid turned to Gallagher and said: "What part of the United States is Sweden?"
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Let me give you a story or two about Rocky Graziano and Jake LaMotta.

First, it's important to know that Rocky and Jake weren't those loveable guys who made fun of themselves that the public saw after they stopped fighting. Barely below the surface, they were still the same mean, vicious, street thugs that just escaped the electric chair.

Graziano was always a fightfan favorite in New york; he was every guy who came from nothing and made it with his fists.

When he retired, he was still loved, and everybody wanted to be with him. Executives, doctors, lawyers always invited him to come play golf with them at their country clubs. They were thrilled just to be near him.

Once, I went with Rocky, and this foursome of dentists wanted to play for money, and Rocky said: sure. After we finished playing, a dentist totaled up the score and said to Rocky: "you owe me $65"

Rocky said:"I'd much rather owe it to you than not pay you"
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Graziano always was good natured about being called punchy, and always made fun of himself... and told everybody: if he learned to speak better, he couldn't get a job in show business.

But I saw the famous comedian, Jackie Gleason, forget that Rocky the buffoon was really the raging killer who'd been the former middleweight champion of the world.

Every place Gleason and Rocky were, Gleason went out of his way to call Rocky: A bum who couldn't fight.

well, as the years went by, Gleason got emboldened, and he really wouldn't let up on Rocky, and he wasn't just needling; he was insulting Rocky...who still took it with good grace.

Finally, at dinner at Leon & Eddie's Bar in New York, not only did Gleason continue to puff himself up making Rocky the butt of all his his jokes, he finally went too far; he poked Rocky in the chest with his finger to punctuate a joke... And it was the last thing Gleason remembered; Rocky lashed out with that murderous right hand and launched Gleason over table, leaving him unconscious on the floor.

It was never reported in the newspapers. I can only imagine that Gleason's people hushed it up.
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Understanding who the real Jake LaMotta was; this may bring a smile to your face.

When LaMotta stopped fighting, he began to get work in films as a character heavy, and Jake took it seriously and wanted to be as good as he could.

So, he enrolled in John Cassevettes Theatre Workshop in New York, and did scenes to perfect his craft.

One day, I went to watch him and he was up on the stage doing some Tennessee Williams' monologue. It was curious listening to those poetic lines coming out of Jake's mouth-- half Bronx and half hood.

While Jake was walking the stage, a young, slight actor, who had no idea who Jake was, jumped on the stage and said to Jake, in a voice much too loud: "Your rehearsal time is over! It's my time now! Get off the stage!"

Jake said softly:"I'll just be a minute"

The kid, wanting to be an intense dramatic actor, stepped closer to Jake: "No. Now. Get off!"

Jake said: "But... And the kid interupted him... and SLAPPED Jake LaMotta in the face, and said," NOW!"

Jake just looked at him for a long moment, like a great white shark looking at a minnow... and said gently: "Don't do that," and walked off the stage.

That kid had no idea how close he'd come to having his life end.
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You might be interested in some funny incidents that are in my articleabout Stillman's Gym. Here's the URL:

http://cyberboxingzone.com/boxing/wail_05_2002.htm
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LaMotta, like Graziano, was known to every fightfan in New York; wherever he went, people stopped or tried to get his autograph.

And from being a guy in the gym, and the street, who nobody would dare approach, he now had to make a radical adjustment so the public would like him and accept him as an entertainer. But it was torture for him; it was so alien to his nature. And he was tested daily.

I was in PJ Clarke's, a bar on the Eastside of New York for the sports world, the media and show biz. Jake could be found at the bar daily in the afternoon with his longtime friend Pete, who wrote RAGING BULL.

Jake was relaxing against the bar with his trademark cigar in his mouth. In through the front door comes a sweaty little, round guy in a cheap suit, and he beams when he sees Jake, and rushes over to him.

The little guy stands in front of Jake and is telling how he saw him the night he knocked some guy out. And the little guy is demonstrating what Jake did by windmilling punches furiously in the air.

Jake doesn't make a move or change expression. The guy's swings are coming inches from Jake.

And, sure enough, the little guy lands one flush on the cigar and flattens it against Jake's face, like a character in a cartoon.

All Jake can do is look towards the heavens and say: "Why me?"
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When I was in London years ago, Henry Cooper, the former British and European heavyweight king, told me a very funny story:

Cooper was training for Ali, and he and two of his huge sparring partners, Joe Bygraves and Joe Erskine, where in a Lori driving some place, and they were laughing and having such a good time, Cooper wasn't paying as close attention to traffic as he should have and he cut a driver off.

At the light, this scrawny little civil-servant type jumped out his car and raced over to Cooper's window and screamed at him.

Cooper tried to apoligize, but the guy was having none of it... and, suddenly slapped Cooper in the face.

With that, the doors of the Lori flew open and Cooper and the two menacing sparring partners surrounded the little guy. The little guy looked around him several times, then said to Cooper: "You're lucky you're with your mates!"

Cooper said they all exploded with laughter and just got back in the Lori and drove off.
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I thought this was funny and touching, and shows that fighters are no different than any of us.

I used to train at Stillman's with a really rugged pro middleweight ( who might not want me to use his name) who was undefeated in over 20 fights, and people were starting to talk about as a possible contender.

He had a walk-in, crowd-pleasing style, and he idolized Carmen Basilio, who was also handled by his manager, Al Braverman. Every opportunity he got, he asked Braverman to introduce him to Basilio.

Well, the fighter wound up on the undercard of one of Basilio's fights in Syracuse. And he begged Braverman again to meet Carmen. So, Braverman arranged it, and Carmen said hello, shook his hand, and wished him luck.

When Basilio walked away, the fighter turned to Braverman and said: "I'm not gonna look like him, am I?"

john garfield

That's great stuff John. Everybody knows guys who think they could KO great boxers. That story about Gleason and the one of Lamotta at acting school are great. Were you a fighter, trainer or journalist to have been around these guys?

Saad,

I fought amateur, bootleg, and in the army, partnered on a gym, started up some boxing teams, and am doing more and more boxing writing now.

My second piece about Gerry Penalosa should be published soon in WAIL.

Thanks for asking,

john garfield

Great stories John!! Please keep them coming.

Music to my ears, Tomato can

Here are a couple more stories:

I was walking along Third Ave. in New York one evening, past PJ Clarke's, a bar /hangout for the sport's crowd and the media, and a booming voice hails me, "John!, John! Over here!'

I looked over in the direction of the voice and I saw a guy as big as building in a huge suit standing in Clarke's doorway. He was easily 6-6 and over 350 pounds, and his barrell chest and tree-trunk arms were straining against the seams of his jacket. He was as big around as he was wide, and his neck was like a thigh.

He was fightening, like a collector from "The Godfather."

But he came away from the building and lumbered over to me. "John, it's me Mark. Mark Tendler."

As I looked at him, I could see something about his features that was vaguely familiar inside that mountain. Then it struck me: This guy, I used to train with at Stillman's years before. But at that time, he was a tall, rangy heavyweight, barely 200 pounds.

He explained to me, after he stopped fighting, he became a power lifter, and for years he was a professional wrestler, and now he was the bouncer here at Clarke's.

So, he walked me back just inside the entrance to Clarke's and we reminisced about the good old days.

Over at the bar -- about 15-feet away -- was an Ivey-League-looking jock and his girl. The jock clearly had too much to drink; and he said to his girl in a loud voice intended for Mark: "See the bouncer at the door? He thinks because he's so big, he scares people. He doesn't scare me! "

Now, the people in the bar are starting to inch away, sensing the tension, but Mark doesn't even look at the drunk; he continues talking to me, as if nothing was happening.

The drunk gets even louder: "HE THINKS HE CAN PRETEND I'M NOT HERE. I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A PHONEY HE IS. HOLD MY COAT!" He says to his girl.

Now, everybody in the bar moves away, but Mark just keeps talking to me. I'm getting more nervous by the moment.

The drunk, full of bravado, heads towards us. Mark still doesn't acknowledge him. When the drunk gets almost an arms-length away, Mark turns to him and says gently: "If you hit me and I find out about it, you're gonna be in a lot of trouble."

The drunk turned ashen and slunk away.

john garfield
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When Roberto Duran was training for the welterweight title against Carlos Palomino at Madison Square Garden, he worked out at Howard Alpert's gym in the garment center, just a few blocks from the Garden.

It was summertime, and sweltering, and every Spanish-speaking worker in the garment area-- and their families-- would go to watch their hero train at lunch time.

The gym was stifling, and jammed cheek-to-jowl with adoring admirers. They barely left Duran enough room to do his floor excercises. And then he went into the ring to shadowbox.

Looking around the room, you could see chests swell, glistening eyes, and faces so full of pride. Plump mothers holding babies in their arms stood right at the ring apron, while their little children looked up moon-eyed at their hero.

In the midst of all of this, somebody in the back kept yelling at Duran in Spanish: "PIPENO CUEVAS WILL KILL YOU! Duran paid him no mind and continued to shadowbox. But the heckler was relentless. Finally, Duran turned toward the heckler and came over to the top strand of the ropes, right above where the mothers and children where looking up, and he pulled down his trunks, grabbed his nuts, and yelled at the heckler in Spanish: "PIPINO CUEVAS CAN SUCK MY COCK!


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In the early 70's, Duran was the terror of the lightweight division. Nobody in their right mind would get in there with him without a whip, chair and a gun.

There was a really a talented Puerto Rican boxer who trained at the Gramercy Gym named Edwin Viruet, but he wasn't big hitter, and he got a chance to fight Duran.

Viruet couldn't punch hard, but he also had no nerves. The reality of facing Duran didn't bother him one bit. If they took his pulse, I'm sure it wouldn't have registered a blip.

Fight night, everybody was prepared to see Duran butcher Viruet. Or at least: a panicked fighter running for his life.

But, Viruet did the unthinkable, he made fun of Duran, he made faces at him, he taunted him, he stuck his tongue out at him, he punched behind his back in clinches. Vintage Jorge Paez.

The fans loved it and howled with laughter; Viruet was making Duran look like a fool . And Duran got more crazed. He didn't just want to kill Viruet, he wanted to dismember him.

Duran was winning handily, but by the 10th round, everybody was chanting for Viruet's courage. One guy yelled out with admiration: "HE DOESN'T KNOW THE MEANING OF THE WORD FEAR!" Somebody else shot back: "...OR CAT OR DOG!"

john garfield

those are great...do you have any stories maybe about ali, frazier, foreman, or any of the great heavyweights of the 70s and early 80s?

Feathermullet,

Nothing comes to mind immediately about either Frazier or Foreman, but if it does I'll jot it down immediately.

I'm just pleased that you guys are enjoying the stories.

john garfield

Good Duran stories. John, I'll read all your stories, they're great. Thanks

Here's 2 more stories, saad:

In the heavyweight open finals in the Florida Golden Gloves, these two willing behmoths were slamming each other as hard as they could; they were in a death-struggle till the bell ended the first round.

One of these monsters went back to his corner and delicately crossed his legs and sat like that while his handlers took care of him. He looked like someone having tea.
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This happened just after the Russians had marched into Hungary.

I was training a very young, uneducated fighter named Vince, who had brawled his way to the finals of the New York Golden Gloves in Madison Square Garden. His opponent was a Hungarian.

We were in the dressing room and my fighter was being mobbed by reporters.

One guy shouted out: " VINCE, VINCE, YOU'RE JUST 16. THE GUY YOU'RE FIGHTING IS 26. HE STOOD UP TO RUSSIAN TANKS. HE WAS A HUNGARIAN FREEDOM FIGHTER. HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO BEAT HIM?"

"No Nazi can beat me," Vince replied.

john garfield

John your stories are priceless. You write the funniest line I have ever heard,"If you hit me and I find out about it your in big trouble" That is funny.I have been around boxing for over 60 yrs. so I associate with your stories. Please keep them comming. Write a book, it would be great. THANKS. RB

RICHBART,

Hearing that someone would like me to do a book...I can't begin to tell you how encouraging that is.

Nothing would please me more than for people to have that kind of a reaction to my work.

Here is an incident about Tommy Gallagher, the trainer of the most impressive junior middleweight who won last night, Tucumbo Olajada, Willie Pep:
===============================================J Willie Pep brings a smile to my face; he was a party everyplace he went.

He wanted to laugh, and he wanted to make everyone else laugh. He always had all of us in stiches about his loses at the track and women who had taken his money.

When Pep was at Stillman's, you could count on practical jokes and a furious Lou Stillman. But, he could do all of that because he was a dream in the ring. It was almost a religious experience watching him.

But he took nothing serious. He came to the gym mostly, I think, to have a good time.

And that 's the Pep I'd always seen at the height of his career.

After he hung up the gloves, briefly, he tried his hand at training.

I was once was in the 5th St, Gym in Miami and Pep was in the corner of a big, beefy heavyweight.

Pep was screaming at the heavyweight from the ring apron, and getting red in the face. This wasn't stand-up comic Willie: this was more like Vince Lombardi or Mike Ditka.

When the round was over, Pep went berserk and attacked his own fighter. He was screaming at him, punching him, kicking him in shins, and had to be dragged off him.

He just couldn't understand why somebody couldn't do what he did.

I prefer to remember the Pep at Stillman's.

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Tommy Gallagher was the trainer of Donnie Lalonde when he fought Sugar Ray Leonard for his Lightheavy title in Vegas. Gallagher asked me to come along.

So, because Lalonde was the headliner on such a big show, everybody in Lalonde's entourage was given special treatment by the management of the hotel.

One evening I was in the lobby with Gallagher, his family, and some of our neighborhood friends, and a very official looking guy in a three-piece suit came over: "Good evening, Mr Gallagher, speaking for the management of the hotel, I'd like to extend a warm welcome to you and all of your friends. Now, If you'll follow me, I'll take you to be seated at the Pointer Sisters show."

Gallagher looks at me and says in a voice too loud: "Who is this half-a fag?"

john garfield

i came here to see john garfields posts on tomato cans suggestion. good stuff...john, post in "current events" a little.

Guest,

I'm very flattered that tomato can went out of his way to ask you to look at my work.

If I have anything to contribute on current events, I'll be there like a shot.

john garfield

Roger Mayweather was fighting a 10-rounder against Pazienza (when he was still Pazienza) at, I think, 140 lbs on the uncercard to the Leonard-LaLonde fight in Vegas.

Mayweather was making a joke out of Pazienza. He made him look like he didn't belong in the same ring with him. He pitched a shutout. And Lou duva, who was in Pazienza's corner, was going crazy during the whole fight.

When the decision was announced for Mayweather, Duva, over 70, and as big around as he was tall, waddled across the ring and was ranting at Mayweather's back. Mayweather turned and flattened him with a right hand punch that made him look like he was dead on the canvas.

Mayweather has always been a stone face, and he dropped Duva without so much as a change in expression. Never looked at him on the canvas. Put on his robe and left the ring.

The paramedics had to take Duva away on a stretcher. He pulled through, but it was touch-n-go for awhile.

john garfield

This comes under the heading of really strange, inexplicible behaviour.

I went to the old Madison Square Garden on 50th St. in New York to see a main-go between two Latin fighters. One a Cuban and one a Puerto Rican.

So, the Garden is like a tinder box; any spark will ignite it.

The main-go is very hotly contested, and could go either way. When the decision was announced, the losing side , who was already spoiling for a fight, started attacking the other fighter's supporters. Then everybody started to reign beer bottles into the ring. The fighters, the seconds, and the TV people ran out of the ring and dove under it.

Then the crowd started heaving broken furniture, and everything else they could get hold of. The whole main floor of the arena was being showered with debris. It was like a war zone.

Now, some lunatics up in the cheap seats started to heave down the 8-foot fire-spears from off the walls, which would have killed anybody instantly.

I hugged the ground, and could just see from the space under my chair.

Then, from one end of the arena came an upright figure in a suit striding right through this deadly barage of missiles and shrapnel.

As he got closer, I recognized him: it was the world famous novelist, Norman Mailer. He never ducked, flinched or avoided anything going to the other side of the arena. And everything was whizzing by him within inches.

He either had to be drunk... on drugs... or both, or was on some macho head trip. It never made the news.

john garfield

John, great stories. Keep em comming. THANKS. RB

Duva got stretched? That's hilarious since he wasn't hurt badly. I'm surprised I haven't heard about that.

John, in 1947 Rocky Graziano lost his license to fight in New Youk. They had a support benifet in New Britian, Ct. I fought a semi=pro bout on that card. Micky Walker, and Freddie "Red" Cocorane were there, but Rocky did not show. Do you know how his liicense problems affected him during that time? I'm sure it hurt him, but do you think it hurt his fighting? THANKS. RB

Here's one more for you, RICHBART.

To really understand and appreciate this story, you have to know Tommy Gallagher: He's a larger- than-life, profane, mean as a junk-yard dog, opinionated, impatient, very loud, crude, brutally honest, very loyal, former undercover cop, and laugh-riot 24 hours a day. Being with his family is like an episode of the Osbournes.

An author put it best, describing his dad: "My father lived his life at the top of his lungs"...That's Tommy Gallagher.

So the night I went to the Pointer Sister's show with him at Ceasar's Palace, because we were being comped by the hotel because Gallagher was in the corner of Donnie Lalonde, who was fighting Sugar Ray Leonard.

The room where the Pointer Sisters were performing was sort of a sem-circle of tiered wooden benches; nobody had their own tables. Everybody was scrunched together.

We were in a party of about 15, but all around us were families looking like they just stepped out of a Norman Rockwell painting.

Gallagher was in top form, cracking everybody up with one story after another. Somebody asked him: " Tommy did you ever fight out of the country as an amateur?"

Not even lowering his voice a little, Gallagher said, "I was a young, Irish Catholic kid and I never was no place. They asked me to fight for the US team in Spain. So, when I got to Spain, I walked around. And there was like this little circus.

There was a sign on one of the cages and somebody told me it said: Anybody that could last a round with the bear would get $50. I never seen that much money...or a bear.

"So, I looked in the cage, and there's this big mop of dark fur on the floor. I figure: no problem; I'll knock this thing out.

So, when I turned around to tell the guy I wanted to do it, the bear REACHED THROUGH THE BARS AND TRIED TO fornicate ME!..IT'S A GOOD THING I WAS WEAR'N SHORTS!"

I fell on the floor, I was laughing so hard--tears were coming out of my eyes. And all around us, famlies were scurrying out of the theatre, like they discovered a fire.

john garfield

Many years ago, I used to date a stripper and she was working at a small club in upstate New York, so I drove her up there.

At the door, I ran into a former lightweight sparring mate who was now about 170 pounds and the bouncer. But he was no more than 5-9.

It was a pretty rowdy place and I asked him: how did he manage to keep everybody in line? There were some really big, loud rednecks in there who looked like they'd like nothing better than to fight. .

He turned to me and said simply: "None of these guys is willing to die."

john garfield

john garfield wrote:Tommy Gallagher was the trainer of Donnie Lalonde when he fought Sugar Ray Leonard for his Lightheavy title in Vegas. Gallagher asked me to come along.

So, because Lalonde was the headliner on such a big show, everybody in Lalonde's entourage was given special treatment by the management of the hotel.

One evening I was in the lobby with Gallagher, his family, and some of our neighborhood friends, and a very official looking guy in a three-piece suit came over: "Good evening, Mr Gallagher, speaking for the management of the hotel, I'd like to extend a warm welcome to you and all of your friends. Now, If you'll follow me, I'll take you to be seated at the Pointer Sisters show."

Gallagher looks at me and says in a voice too loud: "Who is this half-a fag?"

john garfield

Gallagher and Olajide are quite the odd couple.

gensu3k1,

It is an odd pairing, but throughout the game there have been some unexpected combinations... but for some reason, they had the chemistry to make it work: Rocky Graziano and Irving Cohen, Tommy "Hurricaine" Jackson and Whitey Bimstein, Ray Arcel & Roberto Duran, and James Toney & Freddie Roach.

Olajide thinks the world of Gallagher.

john garfield

john garfield wrote:In over 50 years, I've seen some really strange and funny things in the game. If you're interested, I have a ton of them.

john garfield

Hey, John. It's me HAFA! Let's hear some stories.