Putting away the menudo con pata yesterday morning
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
RIP..Harry Kabakoff.....'The Mad Russian"
Harry Kabakoff, born Melville Himmelfarb and know as the "Mad Russian" has died.
Kabakoff's best known fighter was Jesus Pimentel who fought Ruben Olivares for the bantamweight title, losing by ko, he also managed other lesser known fighters, who he kept busy fighting at the fame Olympic Auditorium, Los Angeles, Ca.
Kabakoff's best known fighter was Jesus Pimentel who fought Ruben Olivares for the bantamweight title, losing by ko, he also managed other lesser known fighters, who he kept busy fighting at the fame Olympic Auditorium, Los Angeles, Ca.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
At 84, Art Laboe's an oldie but still a goodie
After more than 50 years on the radio, the disc jockey is still going strong, playing sentimental songs and taking dedications. His deep, soothing voice is cherished by his Latino listeners.
Radio legend Art Laboe, left, and producer Tom Peniston inside Laboe's Hollywood studio. His show ranks near the top in its evening time slot, according to Arbitron ratings, and is popular among listeners 25 to 54 years old. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
By Esmeralda Bermudez
November 12, 2009
The disc jockey smiles when he hears Juanita Santos' raspy voice.
"Art," she says from her small town near Fresno, "I want you to tell my husband, Juanito, 'You're my Chicano king. I'm your booty- licious. I can't live without you. I'll never let you go.' And I want you to blow him a big kiss for me and play 'You're My Shining Star.' "
"OK, Juanita. Here goes that kiss. . . . Muaah!"
Phone lines flash six nights a week inside a dimly lit Hollywood studio where Art Laboe sits before his microphone, faithful to his old-fashioned format: playing sentimental oldies and taking dedications. For more than 50 years, his deep, soothing voice has been as cherished among Latinos in the Southwest as Chick Hearn's rapid-fire staccato once was among Lakers fans.
Listeners with nicknames such as Mr. Porky, Lil' Crazy, Big Papi, Bullet, Bugsy and Payasa call in from Oxnard, Riverside and Boyle Heights; from Phoenix, Albuquerque and Nevada. They are lonely women, rueful men, rapt lovers, entire families with squeaky-voiced children who ask Laboe to wish their grandmothers good night.
The 84-year-old disc jockey helps them celebrate anniversaries, mourn their dead and profess their love. He is the intermediary who reconciles arguments, encourages couples to be affectionate, sends out birthday wishes and thank yous.
His program, which is especially popular among listeners 25 to 54 years old, has consistently ranked near the top of its evening time slot, according to the ratings firm Arbitron. The Art Laboe Connection plays in more than a dozen cities in four states and draws about a million listeners a week.
"His show was the first place a young Chicano kid had to air his feelings, the first place you could say something and be heard," said Ruben Molina, author of two books on Chicano music and American culture. "It was like an intercom where you could tell the world -- our world -- 'I'm sorry' or 'I love so-and-so' and everyone knew the next day."
Messages arrive by phone, a few by mail. Sometimes Laboe reads them on the air:
Her name is Ana Ivette Vasquez and I want to let her know that I'm really sorry for doing her wrong, for all the tears she dropped and pain I put her through. I want to dedicate you this song from deep down in my heart: "I Need Love."
Other times he plays the recorded voices of listeners, who speak to him as to an old friend, often in a broken English laced with gangster slang.
I want to hear "Wasted Days and Wasted Nights" for all the firme homies from Orange County, from their homie Dreamer. I want to tell them to keep their head up and stay strong.
"He is more Chicano than some Chicanos," said comedian Paul Rodriguez, who grew up listening to Laboe. "And everyone from the toughest vato to the wimpiest guy would say the same."
::
Laboe eases into his leather chair just before the 7 p.m. start of his broadcast on HOT 92.3 FM. Tea and cough medicine are within reach. His producer, Tom Peniston, sits across a radio mixing board, munching on a sandwich.
The light blinks with the evening's first call:
This dedication is to Marcela Baca. I wish the family would just stop fighting. I wish we could all get along. This is Alex in Phoenix, Arizona. . . . .I want to play that song "So" by War.
Laboe comes to life on the microphone. He'll prod a shy caller to declare his feelings. He'll blush when another gushes, "Oh my God, I can't believe I'm really talking to you!"
He observes rules that he says keep him in business: Never flirt with a woman or call her "baby" or "honey" because it drives away male callers. Never ask if a caller is in prison -- it's not polite. Some in his audience have come to speak in a sort of code, referring to cities that hint that their loved one is incarcerated.
I want to dedicate "The Ship Won't Sail Without You" to my husband, Big, in Chino from Roxanne. I love you and I'll be up that way tomorrow.
Most important, the disc jockey never judges his listeners.
"Here's somebody . . . . who might feel that what they have going on is of little importance in life," Laboe said. "And now they come on the radio and their voice goes out to the whole world."
Laboe, just over 5 feet tall, has bulging eyes, bushy brows and a prominent nose. As a boy, he always was the loner, the Armenian kid other students barely noticed, especially girls.
Drawn by the anonymity of radio, Laboe started his own amateur station in 1938 out of his bedroom in South Los Angeles. He was 13. Back then, he was Art Egnoian and he had recently moved to California from Utah to live with his sister.
"The radio opened up new doors for a guy who wasn't a big, good-looking hunk," he said.
After serving in World War II, he did stints at various radio stations and changed his name to Laboe when a general manager said it was catchier. When rock 'n' roll struck in the 1950s, Laboe launched a live broadcast from Scrivners, a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood. Masses of teens crowded around him to request songs and dedications, and his career took off.
He wanted to be a concert promoter, bring in big bands. But the city of Los Angeles banned youths younger than 18 from attending public dances and concerts. So he decided to host shows in El Monte, which attracted teenagers from the Eastside and its growing Mexican American population.
Latinos poured in to see Chuck Berry, Ray Charles and Jerry Lee Lewis at the now-defunct El Monte Legion Stadium. Laboe played the rhythm-and-blues and doo-wop these youths craved. He compiled his fans' favorite songs on vinyl records, eight-tracks, cassette tapes and ultimately compact discs featuring Mexican American acts. He learned to pronounce Spanish names.
"It was never intentional," Laboe said. "The connection was there and when they came, I welcomed them with open arms."
Laboe became part of the emerging Chicano identity in Los Angeles, his voice and music the soundtrack of lowrider shows and nights spent cruising Whittier Boulevard. He is the only non-Latino selected as grand marshal of the East L.A. Christmas parade and is a favored award recipient among Latino organizations. At their functions, he says, he is often "the only white guy in the room."
These days he descends from his Hollywood Hills home in a black Jaguar and lunches at the Chateau Marmont.
His home decor features a nude portrait of Marilyn Monroe hanging above his bed, made up in pink-and-white sheets. A giant oil painting of his deceased cat, Baby, is the focal point of the living room. Motivational sayings written on Post-It notes (If you believe in your power to do great things, you will) share space on his refrigerator door with doctor's notices detailing the symptoms of a stroke.
He has lived in the home, mostly alone, since 1964, when he and his second wife, a Las Vegas showgirl, divorced. Most of his relatives, with the exception of two older sisters, have died. "My listeners," he said, "they are like a family."
Regular Laboe listeners include middle-age mothers and high-ranking politicians in the state Capitol. His fans identify with the melodramatic songs he plays the way Tennesseans identify with country music. Some callers express themselves in Laboe-isms, parroting the lyrical verses heard on the oldies show.
I want to tell him to 'Smile now, cry later' because 'I will always be there for you.'
State Sen. Gil Cedillo (D-Los Angeles) remembers cruising through Boyle Heights with Antonio Villar (later Villaraigosa) in the future mayor's canary yellow 1964 Chevy, bumping Laboe's music. It was the early 1970s, and Laboe was everyone's favorite uncle in the neighborhood, he said.
"There was no place else to be," Cedillo said, "but right there, listening to his music."
::
The crowd roars as Laboe steps onstage.
"We love you, Art!" young women yell in unison from their seats.
"You're the man!" the men holler.
It is the last hour of the Art Laboe Show LIVE concert in San Bernardino in September, and about 13,000 people, nearly all of them Latinos, are packed into the San Manuel Amphitheater.
Tattooed teenagers in baggy clothes sway in their seats alongside grandparents and children. Many slow-dance in the aisles and sing out loud as Evelyn "Champagne" King, the Manhattans and other acts perform songs that Laboe has helped keep alive.
The disc jockey emerges from backstage to introduce the last act. He is in his sixth suit of the evening, a gold polyester number that shimmers under red and yellow lights. He looks out into the audience and blows kisses.
"What a night! And it's not over yet. Wait till you see what we have coming up next."
Many of his fans, seeing his enthusiasm and hearing his vibrant voice, would never imagine the man on stage is almost 85.
"What is he?" asks a 16-year-old concertgoer. "I think 54. Or 63? . . . 61?"
No matter his age, Laboe has no plans to quit any time soon. He wants to syndicate his show in more states, enter the Radio Hall of Fame and learn how to use Twitter.
Yet radio is not the draw it once was. The recording studio he bought in the early 1960s no longer makes a profit and is up for sale. Some nights, a tired Laboe heads out early, leaving recorded dedications for his producer to read on the air.
Still, if the end of the Art Laboe era is approaching, his fans don't see it. Or don't want to believe it.
"I know he won't live forever," said Estella "Proxie" Aguirre, 67, a listener since the 1950s. "But I get a lump in my throat just talking about it. I love him like I love my husband, except Art Laboe and I never argue."
esmeralda.bermudez@latimes.com
Radio legend Art Laboe, left, and producer Tom Peniston inside Laboe's Hollywood studio. His show ranks near the top in its evening time slot, according to Arbitron ratings, and is popular among listeners 25 to 54 years old. (Jay L. Clendenin / Los Angeles Times)
By Esmeralda Bermudez
November 12, 2009
The disc jockey smiles when he hears Juanita Santos' raspy voice.
"Art," she says from her small town near Fresno, "I want you to tell my husband, Juanito, 'You're my Chicano king. I'm your booty- licious. I can't live without you. I'll never let you go.' And I want you to blow him a big kiss for me and play 'You're My Shining Star.' "
"OK, Juanita. Here goes that kiss. . . . Muaah!"
Phone lines flash six nights a week inside a dimly lit Hollywood studio where Art Laboe sits before his microphone, faithful to his old-fashioned format: playing sentimental oldies and taking dedications. For more than 50 years, his deep, soothing voice has been as cherished among Latinos in the Southwest as Chick Hearn's rapid-fire staccato once was among Lakers fans.
Listeners with nicknames such as Mr. Porky, Lil' Crazy, Big Papi, Bullet, Bugsy and Payasa call in from Oxnard, Riverside and Boyle Heights; from Phoenix, Albuquerque and Nevada. They are lonely women, rueful men, rapt lovers, entire families with squeaky-voiced children who ask Laboe to wish their grandmothers good night.
The 84-year-old disc jockey helps them celebrate anniversaries, mourn their dead and profess their love. He is the intermediary who reconciles arguments, encourages couples to be affectionate, sends out birthday wishes and thank yous.
His program, which is especially popular among listeners 25 to 54 years old, has consistently ranked near the top of its evening time slot, according to the ratings firm Arbitron. The Art Laboe Connection plays in more than a dozen cities in four states and draws about a million listeners a week.
"His show was the first place a young Chicano kid had to air his feelings, the first place you could say something and be heard," said Ruben Molina, author of two books on Chicano music and American culture. "It was like an intercom where you could tell the world -- our world -- 'I'm sorry' or 'I love so-and-so' and everyone knew the next day."
Messages arrive by phone, a few by mail. Sometimes Laboe reads them on the air:
Her name is Ana Ivette Vasquez and I want to let her know that I'm really sorry for doing her wrong, for all the tears she dropped and pain I put her through. I want to dedicate you this song from deep down in my heart: "I Need Love."
Other times he plays the recorded voices of listeners, who speak to him as to an old friend, often in a broken English laced with gangster slang.
I want to hear "Wasted Days and Wasted Nights" for all the firme homies from Orange County, from their homie Dreamer. I want to tell them to keep their head up and stay strong.
"He is more Chicano than some Chicanos," said comedian Paul Rodriguez, who grew up listening to Laboe. "And everyone from the toughest vato to the wimpiest guy would say the same."
::
Laboe eases into his leather chair just before the 7 p.m. start of his broadcast on HOT 92.3 FM. Tea and cough medicine are within reach. His producer, Tom Peniston, sits across a radio mixing board, munching on a sandwich.
The light blinks with the evening's first call:
This dedication is to Marcela Baca. I wish the family would just stop fighting. I wish we could all get along. This is Alex in Phoenix, Arizona. . . . .I want to play that song "So" by War.
Laboe comes to life on the microphone. He'll prod a shy caller to declare his feelings. He'll blush when another gushes, "Oh my God, I can't believe I'm really talking to you!"
He observes rules that he says keep him in business: Never flirt with a woman or call her "baby" or "honey" because it drives away male callers. Never ask if a caller is in prison -- it's not polite. Some in his audience have come to speak in a sort of code, referring to cities that hint that their loved one is incarcerated.
I want to dedicate "The Ship Won't Sail Without You" to my husband, Big, in Chino from Roxanne. I love you and I'll be up that way tomorrow.
Most important, the disc jockey never judges his listeners.
"Here's somebody . . . . who might feel that what they have going on is of little importance in life," Laboe said. "And now they come on the radio and their voice goes out to the whole world."
Laboe, just over 5 feet tall, has bulging eyes, bushy brows and a prominent nose. As a boy, he always was the loner, the Armenian kid other students barely noticed, especially girls.
Drawn by the anonymity of radio, Laboe started his own amateur station in 1938 out of his bedroom in South Los Angeles. He was 13. Back then, he was Art Egnoian and he had recently moved to California from Utah to live with his sister.
"The radio opened up new doors for a guy who wasn't a big, good-looking hunk," he said.
After serving in World War II, he did stints at various radio stations and changed his name to Laboe when a general manager said it was catchier. When rock 'n' roll struck in the 1950s, Laboe launched a live broadcast from Scrivners, a drive-in restaurant in Hollywood. Masses of teens crowded around him to request songs and dedications, and his career took off.
He wanted to be a concert promoter, bring in big bands. But the city of Los Angeles banned youths younger than 18 from attending public dances and concerts. So he decided to host shows in El Monte, which attracted teenagers from the Eastside and its growing Mexican American population.
Latinos poured in to see Chuck Berry, Ray Charles and Jerry Lee Lewis at the now-defunct El Monte Legion Stadium. Laboe played the rhythm-and-blues and doo-wop these youths craved. He compiled his fans' favorite songs on vinyl records, eight-tracks, cassette tapes and ultimately compact discs featuring Mexican American acts. He learned to pronounce Spanish names.
"It was never intentional," Laboe said. "The connection was there and when they came, I welcomed them with open arms."
Laboe became part of the emerging Chicano identity in Los Angeles, his voice and music the soundtrack of lowrider shows and nights spent cruising Whittier Boulevard. He is the only non-Latino selected as grand marshal of the East L.A. Christmas parade and is a favored award recipient among Latino organizations. At their functions, he says, he is often "the only white guy in the room."
These days he descends from his Hollywood Hills home in a black Jaguar and lunches at the Chateau Marmont.
His home decor features a nude portrait of Marilyn Monroe hanging above his bed, made up in pink-and-white sheets. A giant oil painting of his deceased cat, Baby, is the focal point of the living room. Motivational sayings written on Post-It notes (If you believe in your power to do great things, you will) share space on his refrigerator door with doctor's notices detailing the symptoms of a stroke.
He has lived in the home, mostly alone, since 1964, when he and his second wife, a Las Vegas showgirl, divorced. Most of his relatives, with the exception of two older sisters, have died. "My listeners," he said, "they are like a family."
Regular Laboe listeners include middle-age mothers and high-ranking politicians in the state Capitol. His fans identify with the melodramatic songs he plays the way Tennesseans identify with country music. Some callers express themselves in Laboe-isms, parroting the lyrical verses heard on the oldies show.
I want to tell him to 'Smile now, cry later' because 'I will always be there for you.'
State Sen. Gil Cedillo (D-Los Angeles) remembers cruising through Boyle Heights with Antonio Villar (later Villaraigosa) in the future mayor's canary yellow 1964 Chevy, bumping Laboe's music. It was the early 1970s, and Laboe was everyone's favorite uncle in the neighborhood, he said.
"There was no place else to be," Cedillo said, "but right there, listening to his music."
::
The crowd roars as Laboe steps onstage.
"We love you, Art!" young women yell in unison from their seats.
"You're the man!" the men holler.
It is the last hour of the Art Laboe Show LIVE concert in San Bernardino in September, and about 13,000 people, nearly all of them Latinos, are packed into the San Manuel Amphitheater.
Tattooed teenagers in baggy clothes sway in their seats alongside grandparents and children. Many slow-dance in the aisles and sing out loud as Evelyn "Champagne" King, the Manhattans and other acts perform songs that Laboe has helped keep alive.
The disc jockey emerges from backstage to introduce the last act. He is in his sixth suit of the evening, a gold polyester number that shimmers under red and yellow lights. He looks out into the audience and blows kisses.
"What a night! And it's not over yet. Wait till you see what we have coming up next."
Many of his fans, seeing his enthusiasm and hearing his vibrant voice, would never imagine the man on stage is almost 85.
"What is he?" asks a 16-year-old concertgoer. "I think 54. Or 63? . . . 61?"
No matter his age, Laboe has no plans to quit any time soon. He wants to syndicate his show in more states, enter the Radio Hall of Fame and learn how to use Twitter.
Yet radio is not the draw it once was. The recording studio he bought in the early 1960s no longer makes a profit and is up for sale. Some nights, a tired Laboe heads out early, leaving recorded dedications for his producer to read on the air.
Still, if the end of the Art Laboe era is approaching, his fans don't see it. Or don't want to believe it.
"I know he won't live forever," said Estella "Proxie" Aguirre, 67, a listener since the 1950s. "But I get a lump in my throat just talking about it. I love him like I love my husband, except Art Laboe and I never argue."
esmeralda.bermudez@latimes.com
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Pacquiao inspires in, out of ring
By Robert Morales, Staff Writer
sgvt
If Manny Pacquiao becomes any more popular, he won't be able to sneeze without an adoring fan offering to hold a handkerchief for him.
Bill Caplan, a longtime publicist who works for Pacquiao's promoter, Bob Arum, was at LAX two weeks ago when Pacquiao arrived from his native Philippines to continue training for next Saturday's welterweight title fight against Miguel Cotto at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.
Several hundred - mostly Filipinos - showed up to greet Pacquaio.
But, Caplan said, "It was pandemonium like there were thousands, the way they rushed him. As soon as he appeared coming out of customs, they swarmed him. It was like the Beatles."
Caplan said Pacquiao escaped injury because airport security helped get him to a waiting car. It was so crazy, Caplan said, that television cameras there waiting to interview Pacquiao had to settle for his trainer, Freddie Roach.
"Even Mike Tyson didn't have the drawing power that Manny Pacquiao has right now," said Roach, who briefly trained Tyson. "Mike was always the biggest guy training and the attention was always there at the airports. But the way Manny Pacquiao arrived the other day, I never saw a crowd like that.
"People were swarming to try to get a touch or a look at Manny Pacquiao."
American talk shows have taken notice because Pacquiao this week was a guest on "Jimmy Kimmel Live." It seemed like every few seconds, the personable Pacquiao wore that infectious grin.
"He brightens up a room," Roach said. "He's got class and a great smile. Manny Pacquiao is an endearing person and a great fighter."
Pacquiao recently won the Gusi Peace Prize in the Philippines. It is the Asian version of the Nobel Peace Prize, and Pacquiao is the first athlete to receive it.
Pacquiao has been helping the people in his country for years. He continued that trend when he was training in Baguio City, Philippines when the recent typhoons hit Manila, causing death and destruction.
Pacquiao made the two-hour drive from the mountains of Baguio City to assist in the recovery, even though Roach really did not want him to.
"When the typhoon hit Manila pretty hard, Manny went down there on a Sunday to help the people out and I asked him not to go because I thought it was dangerous," Roach said. "But it was his day off and he went to Manila and helped as much as he could."
When Pacquiao was asked during a recent interview how the typhoons affected him, his sincerity was obvious.
"I felt so bad," he said. "I do have to focus on my training because I have to prepare. But I try to help the people in my country as much as I can."
The Teamsters Youth Boxing Club in South El Monte this weekend is playing host to the Silver Gloves District Championships.
Two session are on tap today at 11 a.m. and 6 p.m. The finals are Sunday at 11 a.m.
Admission is $5 for adults, $3 for children.
sgvt
If Manny Pacquiao becomes any more popular, he won't be able to sneeze without an adoring fan offering to hold a handkerchief for him.
Bill Caplan, a longtime publicist who works for Pacquiao's promoter, Bob Arum, was at LAX two weeks ago when Pacquiao arrived from his native Philippines to continue training for next Saturday's welterweight title fight against Miguel Cotto at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.
Several hundred - mostly Filipinos - showed up to greet Pacquaio.
But, Caplan said, "It was pandemonium like there were thousands, the way they rushed him. As soon as he appeared coming out of customs, they swarmed him. It was like the Beatles."
Caplan said Pacquiao escaped injury because airport security helped get him to a waiting car. It was so crazy, Caplan said, that television cameras there waiting to interview Pacquiao had to settle for his trainer, Freddie Roach.
"Even Mike Tyson didn't have the drawing power that Manny Pacquiao has right now," said Roach, who briefly trained Tyson. "Mike was always the biggest guy training and the attention was always there at the airports. But the way Manny Pacquiao arrived the other day, I never saw a crowd like that.
"People were swarming to try to get a touch or a look at Manny Pacquiao."
American talk shows have taken notice because Pacquiao this week was a guest on "Jimmy Kimmel Live." It seemed like every few seconds, the personable Pacquiao wore that infectious grin.
"He brightens up a room," Roach said. "He's got class and a great smile. Manny Pacquiao is an endearing person and a great fighter."
Pacquiao recently won the Gusi Peace Prize in the Philippines. It is the Asian version of the Nobel Peace Prize, and Pacquiao is the first athlete to receive it.
Pacquiao has been helping the people in his country for years. He continued that trend when he was training in Baguio City, Philippines when the recent typhoons hit Manila, causing death and destruction.
Pacquiao made the two-hour drive from the mountains of Baguio City to assist in the recovery, even though Roach really did not want him to.
"When the typhoon hit Manila pretty hard, Manny went down there on a Sunday to help the people out and I asked him not to go because I thought it was dangerous," Roach said. "But it was his day off and he went to Manila and helped as much as he could."
When Pacquiao was asked during a recent interview how the typhoons affected him, his sincerity was obvious.
"I felt so bad," he said. "I do have to focus on my training because I have to prepare. But I try to help the people in my country as much as I can."
The Teamsters Youth Boxing Club in South El Monte this weekend is playing host to the Silver Gloves District Championships.
Two session are on tap today at 11 a.m. and 6 p.m. The finals are Sunday at 11 a.m.
Admission is $5 for adults, $3 for children.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Lou Filippo dies at 83; boxing hall of famer appeared in 'Rocky' movies
Filippo was known as a pillar of honesty in the sport. He refereed and judged 85 world championship fights, including Sugar Ray Leonard's split-decision win over Marvin Hagler in 1987.
Lou Filippo, shown in 1954, had a distinguished career as an amateur before turning pro. His fight career ended in 1957. He appeared in five "Rocky" films. (Los Angeles Times)
By Lance Pugmire
November 5, 2009
Lou Filippo, a boxing hall of famer from Downey who became a referee and ring judge, memorably counting out Sylvester Stallone's champion rival Apollo Creed in the film "Rocky II," died Monday at Downey Regional Medical Center after suffering a stroke. He was 83.
Filippo was a distinguished amateur fighter who fought in more than 250 bouts before turning pro. His fighting career ended in 1957 with a no-contest outcome and a technical knockout loss against Hall of Famer Carlos Ortiz, a bout stopped because of Filippo's cuts -- bleeding plagued his 23-9-3 pro career.
Boxing historian Don Fraser of the California Boxing Hall of Fame recalled that Filippo was originally awarded a victory in the first bout against Ortiz after being hit after the bell, but a Times reporter questioned a member of the California State Athletic Commission about that ruling, and the no-contest decision was invoked.
Fraser said about 40 gamblers who were set to lose money on the Filippo victory then forced the ring announcer to re-enter the Legion Stadium ring in Hollywood and announce the ruling so they could avoid the payoffs.
In a sport often stained by shady behavior, Fraser and veteran boxing publicist Bill Caplan recalled Filippo as a pillar of character and honesty who proceeded to referee and judge 85 world championship fights, including Sugar Ray Leonard's controversial split-decision victory over Marvin Hagler in 1987. Filippo scored narrowly in Hagler's favor.
"He took some heat, but why?" Caplan asked. "The perfect man would've taken heat over that fight. Half of the people thought each guy won."
Filippo also judged Shane Mosley's split-decision victory over Oscar De La Hoya at Staples Center in 2000, awarding Mosley a 116-112 score.
Filippo told his two daughters that the most important part of his job was to maintain integrity and to "listen to yourself, not the fans."
Caplan said Filippo's reputation as a "loyal, straight-up guy" helped him win Stallone's attention, and the actor used Filippo in five "Rocky" movies. In "Rocky II," Filippo tells Stallone's bloodied character Rocky Balboa before the epic 15th round, "Hey, Rock, you get in trouble one more time . . . ," to which Balboa answers, "Don't stop nothing!" When both fighters fall to the canvas on a Balboa punch and Creed slumps in a corner, Filippo tells the champ, "You're out!"
Filippo was born Dec. 1, 1925 in Los Angeles, attended Fremont High School in South L.A. and served in the Navy during World War II.
He was elected president of the World Boxing Hall of Fame in 1993, and he judged a bout at the Commerce Casino only two weeks ago, his daughter Patti Petruzelli said. She said her father was never sick and only complained of his first headache last week. But he sorely missed his late wife, Pat, who died in 2007, and his daughter said, "He's where he wants to be now. He loved her.
"Boxing was his second love."
In addition to Petruzelli, Filippo is survived by another daughter, Debbye Shepard; two grandsons; and three great-grandchildren.
Visitation is scheduled for Friday from 4 to 8 p.m. at Miller Mies Mortuary, 11015 Downey Ave., Downey. The funeral will be Saturday at 9:30 a.m. at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church, 10727 Downey Ave., Downey.
lance.pugmire@latimes.com
Twitter.com/latimespugmire
Lou Filippo, shown in 1954, had a distinguished career as an amateur before turning pro. His fight career ended in 1957. He appeared in five "Rocky" films. (Los Angeles Times)
By Lance Pugmire
November 5, 2009
Lou Filippo, a boxing hall of famer from Downey who became a referee and ring judge, memorably counting out Sylvester Stallone's champion rival Apollo Creed in the film "Rocky II," died Monday at Downey Regional Medical Center after suffering a stroke. He was 83.
Filippo was a distinguished amateur fighter who fought in more than 250 bouts before turning pro. His fighting career ended in 1957 with a no-contest outcome and a technical knockout loss against Hall of Famer Carlos Ortiz, a bout stopped because of Filippo's cuts -- bleeding plagued his 23-9-3 pro career.
Boxing historian Don Fraser of the California Boxing Hall of Fame recalled that Filippo was originally awarded a victory in the first bout against Ortiz after being hit after the bell, but a Times reporter questioned a member of the California State Athletic Commission about that ruling, and the no-contest decision was invoked.
Fraser said about 40 gamblers who were set to lose money on the Filippo victory then forced the ring announcer to re-enter the Legion Stadium ring in Hollywood and announce the ruling so they could avoid the payoffs.
In a sport often stained by shady behavior, Fraser and veteran boxing publicist Bill Caplan recalled Filippo as a pillar of character and honesty who proceeded to referee and judge 85 world championship fights, including Sugar Ray Leonard's controversial split-decision victory over Marvin Hagler in 1987. Filippo scored narrowly in Hagler's favor.
"He took some heat, but why?" Caplan asked. "The perfect man would've taken heat over that fight. Half of the people thought each guy won."
Filippo also judged Shane Mosley's split-decision victory over Oscar De La Hoya at Staples Center in 2000, awarding Mosley a 116-112 score.
Filippo told his two daughters that the most important part of his job was to maintain integrity and to "listen to yourself, not the fans."
Caplan said Filippo's reputation as a "loyal, straight-up guy" helped him win Stallone's attention, and the actor used Filippo in five "Rocky" movies. In "Rocky II," Filippo tells Stallone's bloodied character Rocky Balboa before the epic 15th round, "Hey, Rock, you get in trouble one more time . . . ," to which Balboa answers, "Don't stop nothing!" When both fighters fall to the canvas on a Balboa punch and Creed slumps in a corner, Filippo tells the champ, "You're out!"
Filippo was born Dec. 1, 1925 in Los Angeles, attended Fremont High School in South L.A. and served in the Navy during World War II.
He was elected president of the World Boxing Hall of Fame in 1993, and he judged a bout at the Commerce Casino only two weeks ago, his daughter Patti Petruzelli said. She said her father was never sick and only complained of his first headache last week. But he sorely missed his late wife, Pat, who died in 2007, and his daughter said, "He's where he wants to be now. He loved her.
"Boxing was his second love."
In addition to Petruzelli, Filippo is survived by another daughter, Debbye Shepard; two grandsons; and three great-grandchildren.
Visitation is scheduled for Friday from 4 to 8 p.m. at Miller Mies Mortuary, 11015 Downey Ave., Downey. The funeral will be Saturday at 9:30 a.m. at Our Lady of Perpetual Help Church, 10727 Downey Ave., Downey.
lance.pugmire@latimes.com
Twitter.com/latimespugmire
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Frank Baltazar - Bio for Johnny Flores Award
By Rick Farris
Frank Baltazar's involvement in boxing began shortly after WW2 at the age of 12.
Growing up in Los Angeles and fighting out of the Teamster's Gym, Frank fought under Hoyt Porter and Louie Jaurequi.
In the mid-60's, Frank turned from boxing to coaching and took over the Los Angeles Junior Golden Gloves program, helping develop future top contenders and world champions, including two of his four sons, Frankie Jr. and Tony Baltazar.
The Junior Golden Gloves was created by Johnny Flores and Louie Jaurequi. Frank Baltazar would take over the program after Flores and Jaurequi focused on developing professional boxers.
Under Frank's guidance, the Junior Golden Gloves program not only contributed to boxing, but to the community, providing youth with an alternative to gang involvment.
In 1973, Frank was head coach for Los Angeles Golden Gloves team which represented the City of Angels in the annual National Golden Gloves "Tournament of Champions" helden in Boston, Mass.
The all-star L.A. team included future contenders and a world champ in Art Frias, Frankie Duarte, Randy Shields and national Golden Gloves champ, Roy Hollis.
Frank would later manage the careers of his two oldest sons, both who reached top ranking in the junior lightweight and welterweight divisions.
Frank has been married to his wife, Connie, for more than fifty years. They have one daughter, Linda, and four sons, Frank Jr., Tony, Bobby and James.
Today, Frank Baltazar is the Vice President of the California Boxing Hall of Fame and contributes his knowledge and history thru a variety of on-line boxing publications, most notably the "Classic American West Coast Boxing" thread of the Boxrec Forum.
The World Boxing Hall of Fame is honored to have Frank Baltazar the first recipient of the annual "Johnny Flores Youth Development Award" for his contribution to youth, boxing and the community.
Frank Baltazar's involvement in boxing began shortly after WW2 at the age of 12.
Growing up in Los Angeles and fighting out of the Teamster's Gym, Frank fought under Hoyt Porter and Louie Jaurequi.
In the mid-60's, Frank turned from boxing to coaching and took over the Los Angeles Junior Golden Gloves program, helping develop future top contenders and world champions, including two of his four sons, Frankie Jr. and Tony Baltazar.
The Junior Golden Gloves was created by Johnny Flores and Louie Jaurequi. Frank Baltazar would take over the program after Flores and Jaurequi focused on developing professional boxers.
Under Frank's guidance, the Junior Golden Gloves program not only contributed to boxing, but to the community, providing youth with an alternative to gang involvment.
In 1973, Frank was head coach for Los Angeles Golden Gloves team which represented the City of Angels in the annual National Golden Gloves "Tournament of Champions" helden in Boston, Mass.
The all-star L.A. team included future contenders and a world champ in Art Frias, Frankie Duarte, Randy Shields and national Golden Gloves champ, Roy Hollis.
Frank would later manage the careers of his two oldest sons, both who reached top ranking in the junior lightweight and welterweight divisions.
Frank has been married to his wife, Connie, for more than fifty years. They have one daughter, Linda, and four sons, Frank Jr., Tony, Bobby and James.
Today, Frank Baltazar is the Vice President of the California Boxing Hall of Fame and contributes his knowledge and history thru a variety of on-line boxing publications, most notably the "Classic American West Coast Boxing" thread of the Boxrec Forum.
The World Boxing Hall of Fame is honored to have Frank Baltazar the first recipient of the annual "Johnny Flores Youth Development Award" for his contribution to youth, boxing and the community.
Monday, October 19, 2009
FATHER
By Roger Esty
I've seen the managers and promoters who've drained the life's blood from their charges. The fighters who had nothing to show for it in the end. What's worse they were allowed to continue too long. Those boys need to be protected now. Some have caretakers. Some live on the county farm. Some wander the streets. Some have droped off the face of the earth.
What I've never understood is why a father would push his son into the most unforgiving of sports, and then let him continue when everyone around could see that it was a bad risk to let it go on.
Frank Baltazar was not one of those fathers. His sons took to the sport without overbearing pressure nor a guilt trip laid upon them from their dad.The sons wanted to box. So be it. When Frank saw that Frankie Jr. was at the end of his career,he told him to clear out his locker. Frank would walk away.There was an empty locker at the Main Street Gym. Tony,the younger brother, thought he could still go. Frank explained to his son that he was a man who could make his own decisions about continuing his career if he wanted,but Frank would not be involved anymore. He washed his hands of it.He told his son that he loved him . Tony was on his own.
Frank told me that every time his sons entered the ring, he was a nervous wreck.That's the way it should be with fathers and sons in this sport. I've seen the exploiters, and the ones who can't see that their guy hasn't anything left.
Next Saturday they're going to give Frank an award at the World Boxing Hall Of Fame Banquet.The Johnny Flores Award. An award that is significant of someone who has given an honest effort developing young fighters. I'll be on my feet applauding.
I've seen the managers and promoters who've drained the life's blood from their charges. The fighters who had nothing to show for it in the end. What's worse they were allowed to continue too long. Those boys need to be protected now. Some have caretakers. Some live on the county farm. Some wander the streets. Some have droped off the face of the earth.
What I've never understood is why a father would push his son into the most unforgiving of sports, and then let him continue when everyone around could see that it was a bad risk to let it go on.
Frank Baltazar was not one of those fathers. His sons took to the sport without overbearing pressure nor a guilt trip laid upon them from their dad.The sons wanted to box. So be it. When Frank saw that Frankie Jr. was at the end of his career,he told him to clear out his locker. Frank would walk away.There was an empty locker at the Main Street Gym. Tony,the younger brother, thought he could still go. Frank explained to his son that he was a man who could make his own decisions about continuing his career if he wanted,but Frank would not be involved anymore. He washed his hands of it.He told his son that he loved him . Tony was on his own.
Frank told me that every time his sons entered the ring, he was a nervous wreck.That's the way it should be with fathers and sons in this sport. I've seen the exploiters, and the ones who can't see that their guy hasn't anything left.
Next Saturday they're going to give Frank an award at the World Boxing Hall Of Fame Banquet.The Johnny Flores Award. An award that is significant of someone who has given an honest effort developing young fighters. I'll be on my feet applauding.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
CAPICHE?
By Roger Esty
"Do you get it? Capiche?",my Uncle Joe turned to my father.
"Naw,it didn't happen that way. That movie is horrible,"responded my father.
We were all sitting in the living room. My sisters rented The Godfather. The movie had been out quite a while,but my father never seemed interested to watch it. Finally,one night we talked him into it.My mother stayed in the bedroom.
"But Joe,"said my uncle with a big smile,"how about when Marlon Brando makes him an offer he can't refuse?"
My uncle was beside himself. He grew up in the neighborhood in the Southwest Side of Chicago ,but was never in the Outfit. He saw those guys,but they never cut him in on anything. My father? Well,his dad Diamond Joe assured my father that one day he would be welcome. He knew them all.
"Look."said my father to my uncle,"if you believe that crap go ahead. You're about that stupid to fall for it."
My father never cared much for my Uncle Joe(my mother's brother).I don't think my Uncle Joe liked my father much either. My father thought that his brother in law was a low life always going to Tijuana on the bus playing the dogs at Caliente and eating those hot dogs off the cart and getting in at 4 in the morning. You see,my uncle was living with us at the time.
My uncle thought he told the funniest stories . He liked to talk about when he was in the Army in WWII. I don't think he saw any action or he would have talked about it,but he did say that General Patton gave him a pat on the shoulder while my uncle was on guard duty in France.
My dad was a Marine in two of the biggest battles of the Pacific and in the thick of it everyday. My father thought my uncle was a blowhard.
"But Giuseppe ,"urged my uncle,"The Godfather won all the awards."
"I don't give a damn. What do they know?"
Well, that night was a dud. My father wasn't impressed and it put another nail into my uncle's coffin as far as my dad liking him.
"Joe,"said my uncle laughing away,"The Godfather won Brando an Oscar."
"Look,"said my father with a straight face,"You and Brando can go f--k yourselves. Capiche?
"Do you get it? Capiche?",my Uncle Joe turned to my father.
"Naw,it didn't happen that way. That movie is horrible,"responded my father.
We were all sitting in the living room. My sisters rented The Godfather. The movie had been out quite a while,but my father never seemed interested to watch it. Finally,one night we talked him into it.My mother stayed in the bedroom.
"But Joe,"said my uncle with a big smile,"how about when Marlon Brando makes him an offer he can't refuse?"
My uncle was beside himself. He grew up in the neighborhood in the Southwest Side of Chicago ,but was never in the Outfit. He saw those guys,but they never cut him in on anything. My father? Well,his dad Diamond Joe assured my father that one day he would be welcome. He knew them all.
"Look."said my father to my uncle,"if you believe that crap go ahead. You're about that stupid to fall for it."
My father never cared much for my Uncle Joe(my mother's brother).I don't think my Uncle Joe liked my father much either. My father thought that his brother in law was a low life always going to Tijuana on the bus playing the dogs at Caliente and eating those hot dogs off the cart and getting in at 4 in the morning. You see,my uncle was living with us at the time.
My uncle thought he told the funniest stories . He liked to talk about when he was in the Army in WWII. I don't think he saw any action or he would have talked about it,but he did say that General Patton gave him a pat on the shoulder while my uncle was on guard duty in France.
My dad was a Marine in two of the biggest battles of the Pacific and in the thick of it everyday. My father thought my uncle was a blowhard.
"But Giuseppe ,"urged my uncle,"The Godfather won all the awards."
"I don't give a damn. What do they know?"
Well, that night was a dud. My father wasn't impressed and it put another nail into my uncle's coffin as far as my dad liking him.
"Joe,"said my uncle laughing away,"The Godfather won Brando an Oscar."
"Look,"said my father with a straight face,"You and Brando can go f--k yourselves. Capiche?
Friday, October 9, 2009
The "Maravilla Kid" . . .
Ruben Navarro
painting by Roger Esty
Story by Rick Farris
If somebody were to ask me to describe in one word, the boxing style of Ruben Navarro, it would be difficult to do, just as Ruben's style was difficult for opponents to deal with.
Elusive, unorthodox, agrressive, defensive, explosive . . . take your pick?
Ruben was kind of like Houdini when backed into a corner by a power puncher, he was a natural escape artist.
I've seen Ruben Navarro bend, twist and contort his body in so many ways avoiding punishment. One time he dipped so low to the ground while trapped in a corner, I thought he was going to crawl thru his opponents legs. He almost did, but was able to slip around to the outside and turn the tables on his attacker.
I'll say this, his style reaked havoc among some of the greatest lightweights in the world during the late 60's to mid-70's.
I'd meet Ruben Navarro in 1967, a few fights into his pro career, when his longtime coach, Marty Denkin, turned over the Maravilla Kid's contract to Johnny Flores.
I was just a Junior Golden Glover at the time, but when Ruben joined our stable, he joined top professionals such as up and coming heavyweight, Jerry Quarry, and featherweight terror, Dwight "The Hawk" Hawkins.
Ruben Navarro was 100% East L.A.
Navarro grew up in Maravilla, a tough Eastside barrio that spawned many a prizefighter during the past century.
Maravilla was home to former world bantamweight title challeneger Jesus Pimentel, and featherweight title challengers Danny Valdez and Jose Pimentel, Jesus' twin brother.
Of all the great fighters that would come out of East L.A. during the era, none had the charisma of the "Maravilla Kid".
Ruben started his boxing career at the Eastside Boy's Club, under the coaching of Marty Denkin.
Marty, a future Hall of Fame referee, would put young Ruben into the Junior Golden Gloves and eventually take him to the 1964 U.S. Olympic Trials, which took place at the Singer Bowl of the New York World's Fair.
I remember Ruben Navarro back in 1967, when he joined the Johnny Flores stable. Ruben had been a hot shot amateur in Los Angeles from the late 50's thru the 1964 Olympic Trials.
The Olympics that produced Joe Frazier.
Ruben wouldn't make the team that rep'd the USA in Tokyo, but he made it to the trials, and that in itself was an accomplishment.
After the Olympics, Ruben competed in the 1965 Golden Gloves and the went into the Army.
After his hitch in the service was up, Navarro returned to L.A. and turned professional.
Ruben quickly began to dominate the 130 pounders of L.A. Under Denkin, the only blemish on Ruben's career was a draw with future featherweight contender, Tony Alvarado.
He whipped local favorites such Baby Cassius and Leonard Lopez, Ernie's brother.
After that, Denkin turned Navarro over to Johnny Flores in late 1967.
With weekly boxing cards broadcast live on TV from the Olympic Auditorium, Ruben Navarro would quickly become one of L.A.'s most popular attractions.
The ELA kid whose friends called him "Jemima", because of his dark skin, was on the edge of boxing stardom.
In 1968, Flores would help turn Ruben Navarro into a world class junior lightweight.
I remember the first time I saw Ruben boxing at the Main Street Gym. He and his old pal, Jose Pimentel, would put on a helluva exhibition.
The next day, I would warm Ruben up, sparring with him before he boxed with both Pimentel and Rod Contreras, another Flores stablemate of ours.
In 1968, Flores would match his newest hot shot with one of the hardest punching top ten rated lightweights in the world, Nigeria's Ray Adigun.
The bout was held at the Olympic Auditorium and Navarro out-boxed and out-punched the African, dropping him twice before the bout was stopped in the ninth round.
A month later he travels to Tokyo with Johnny and Julio Flores, his trainer, and upsets one of the greatest Japanese world champs ever, Hiroshi Kobayashi.
You know that Ruben must have laced him pretty good, the Japanese make it difficult to win in their country.
Less than two months later, it's back to L.A. to make his Forum boxing debut on the undercard of the Dwight Hawkins-Frankie Crawford featherweight showdown.
This time Ruben would be facing the Mexican Lightweight Champ, Arturo Lomeli, in a 12-rounder for the North American Lightweight title.
Lomeli was tough, and he floored Ruben twice in the twelve rounder. Ruben showed his heart, but it wasn't his night.
The Maravilla kid would lose for the first time, but he proved he could come off the deck and fight his way back.
Flores kept Ruben busy, despite the loss to Lomeli, Navarro was on a role.
He was a hot item in Japan after whipping Kobayashi, and the Japanese would appreciate some revenge.
To get that revenge another world champ, Yoshiaki Numata, would get the call.
Just a few weeks after his first loss, Ruben Navarro , Flores and company were on a jet back to Tokyo.
Again, Ruben had his way with a Japanese champion, but this time he wouldn't have his way with the judges.
After the final bell, Flores said they were confident of another win. They had to settle for a draw.
That's all the Japanses were going to let Navarro leave with this time.
No sooner had Johnny Flores returned to L.A. following Navarro's draw with Numata, he recieved a phone call from Manila.
The phone call would net Ruben Navarro his first world title fight.
Two months after the Numata match, Ruben and team Navarro would be returning to the Orient, this time to the Philipines.
The opponent would be Manila's Rene Barrientos, and the match would be for the Vacant WBC Super-featherweight title.
The title fight would be held in a large outdoor stadium and I recall Flores describing the venue.
Flores said that all of the public rest rooms were closed to the fans, the facilities were used to house cages of fighting game cocks, for cock fights held at the arena on sundays.
The fans would just pee on the corridor walls.
Navarro didn't have much problem out hustling Barrientos, but a hometown decision sent the Maravilla Kid back to L.A. without a title.
During the next year Ruben Navarro would put together a half dozen more victories before being matched with cross-town rival, "Irish" Jimmy Robertson.
This would be a tough match for Navarro, who had been down and behind on points before stopping Robertson on a cut in the fifth.
A rematch would be in order, but first Ruben had other business to deal with in Los Angeles.
A month after Navarro's match with Jimmy Robertson, I would make my pro debut at the Olympic. A month later, I'd have my second pro fight on the undercard of a big L.A. grudge match.
In this bout, my stablemate Ruben Navarro, would take on former two-time world champ, Raul Rojas in the main event.
Rojas had been talking tough in the papers and called the Maravilla Kid, "A dog."
The bout was held in July, 1970 and Navarro had his way with Rojas, sending him to the deck in the ninth round, before capturing a unanimous ten-round decision.
After the beating Ruben laid on Rojas, it was obvious that the only dog in the ring was Raul, a dog with a lot of fleas.
After the bout, Ruben was introduced to my girlfriend's family, which included her sister, a local TV celebrity and her husband, Olympic pole-vault gold medalist and world record holder, Bob Seagren.
The following week, Ruben would join Bob Seagren and myself on our distance runs. Roadwork suddenly became a lot more than a run thru the hills.
In the gym, in the ring, Ruben Navarro would have the better of it when we boxed together. On the trail, things weren't so easy.
Ruben Navarro was a great distance runner. He'd competed on his high school cross country team and would hang in with Seagren on our runs, at least until the end when Bob would kick it up and leave Ruben and I in the dust.
We'd run thru the hills in Monterey Park and occasionally hit the L.A. Coliseum where we'd run stadium stairs with Seagren.
The extensive road work Ruben and I did with Bob Seagren paid off for both us condition wise.
Ruben was hitting his prime and worked hard in the gym, but he played equally hard during the night, when he'd go out drinking and drugging.
When not in training for a specific fight, Ruben's life became one big party.
A couple months after the Rojas victory, Ruben Navarro had to settle some old business.
Aileen Eaton matched Ruben with the only man to defeat him, Mexico's Arturo Lomeli. Again, I would open the show in a four rounder.
During the two years that had passed since his loss to Lomeli, Navarro had defeated two world champs, not to mention rugged Jimmy Robertson.
This bout would be the the first ever to determine an NABF Lightweight Champion, and once again it would be close.
Ruben staggered Lomeli in the third round, but the tough Mexican came back strong. Navarro put on a late rally to pull out a split decision victory.
Ruben closed out 1970 with a two round knockout over Filippino Mar Yuzon at the Olympic, and then would take a few weeks off.
Ruben partied hard during his time off with no idea what awaited him in the new year.
Mando Ramos had lost his lightweight title to Ismael Laguna in early 1970. In his first title defense, Laguna lost the title to Scotland's Ken Buchanan.
Aileen Eaton was anxious for Ramos to win back the championship, and set up a WBA lightweight title match with Buchanan.
The date for the Buchanan-Ramos title fight was set for February 12, 1971 at the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena.
After the bout was signed, Johnny Flores informed me that I would be opening the show in a six-rounder.
I was excited to be fighting on a World Championship undercard and was in great shape for the opportunity.
About the same time, Flores signs for Ruben to face Jimmy Robertson in a rematch, roughly six weeks after the Buchanan-Ramos fight.
About a week before the lightweight title fight, I see Ruben at the Olympic Auditorium, attending a thursday night fight card.
It was obvious that Navarro was loaded, stumbling up and down the aisles, shaking hands with fans, taking bows.
I knew that he would be leaving for camp a few days later, and that I'd be joining the camp for a few days of sparring prior to my six-rounder on the title card the following friday.
The day we arrived at the Massacre Canyon Inn in Hemet for training camp, Johnny Flores joins us later in the restaurant.
Flores had been in L.A. all day negotiating with Aileen Eaton over a deal for Navarro, however, it wasn't for his match with Robertson.
As it turns out, Mando Ramos had pulled out of the title fight with Buchanan, just four days prior to the match.
The excuse was that Mando was injured, but we all knew it had something to do with his drug abuse.
The L.A. Sports Arena was nearly sold out for the title fight, and suddenly Eaton had no opponent for Buchanan.
Flores offered up Ruben Navarro as a replacment, and Aileen quickly agreed to the match.
As we are sitting in the restaurant, Flores breaks the news to Ruben, that on friday evening he'd be fighting Ken Buchanan for the World Lightweight Championship.
We were all happy for Ruben, but I was privatley concerned for my stablemate. He was in no conditon to fight anybody, let alone the lightweight champion of the world.
I kept picturing him staggering around the Olympic just a few days earlier, totally drunk and high.
On Friday night, the Maravilla Kid, totally out of condition, stepped into the ring with Ken Buchanan at the L.A. Sports Arena.
I had scored my first pro knockout on the undercard, and was praying that Ruben Navarro could pull off the same thing against Buchanan.
For a moment, I thought my prayer had been answered.
At the opening bell, Ruben darted across the ring and went right to work on Buchanan. Less than halfway thru the round, Navarro lands an overhand right that lands solid on Buchanan's chin.
The tough Scot hits the deck for a flash knockdown and the Los Angeles Sports Arena exploded in excitment.
Buchanan rose quickly and was able to survive Navarro's attempt to put him away.
Navarro's conditioning could not sustain a steady attack and as the bout progressed, Buchanan took control and defeated Navarro by way of a fifteen-round decision.
Navarro had little chance of winning, but considering his conditoning and last minute notice, he impressed most in atttendence.
The following month, Navarro still had another fight to prepare himself for, the rematch with Robertson.
With his bank account getting an unexpected boost with the purse from his title fight, Ruben and Carol Navarro purchased a beautiful Spanish style home in Monterey Park.
Ruben and Carol's new home was just a few blocks from the home of my girlfriend's family.
We would all attend a housewarming party at the Navarro home just a week before the rematch with Jimmy Robertson.
In March of 1971, just over a month after losing to Buchanan, I would open the show the night Ruben would face Jimmy Robertson for the second time at the Olympic.
The bout was scheduled for twelve rounds for the vacant NABF Lightweight title.
Ruben scored well in the third round, but the bout was boring. Both fighters grabbed and held, and following a late rally, Robertson took a close majority decision.
During the next six months Navarro would fight just one time, winning an easy decision over Tony Jumao-As, before signing for another big L.A. showdown.
This time, Ruben would take on one the most popular prizefighters to ever come out of Los Angeles, Armando Ramos.
Ramos was only 22, but had become the youngest boxer in history to win the world lightweight championship.
As a result of his wild life style, he'd also become the youngest lightweight champ to lose the title.
Despite Los Angeles having several world class lightweight contenders, the career of Mando Ramos overshadowed the rest.
Like Navarro, Ramos lived a wild lifestyle and had lost his title only a year after winning it.
This bout wouldn't have a championship tied to it, at least not officially, however, at stake was something more important to both Navarro and Ramos.
Both sought bragging rights as the best lightweight in L.A. and the two were far from strangers.
More than once, Mando Ramos and Ruben Navarro had spent time together partying. There was a friendly respect, but also a pair of big egos backed by big talent.
There was no shortage of animosity going into this bout, but Navarro had another obstacle to consider.
Mando Ramos was the "house fighter" at the Olympic.
Mando's ring talent won the world title, but it was promoter Aileen Eaton's close alliance with Ramos' manager, Jackie McCoy, that made such a match possible.
It was only a matter of time before Ramos and Navarro would meet in the ring, and when they did the fireworks flew.
Ruben trained hard for the match and fought beyond himself. He literally took control of the match and kept Ramos off-balance.
In the end, it had been a very close fight, one that had lived up to all expectations. When the final bell rang, I was certain Navarro had won.
The judges saw it differently, all giving Mando the fight by a slight margin.
Years later, Mando and I would discuss this fight. Like most fighters, Mando believed he was a clear winner.
I told Mando I saw him clearly win many fights, but not the Navarro fight. I didn't keep score, but after ten rounds I thought Ruben had edged him.
Mando smiled and acknowledged that Navarro gave him a difficult evening, then we changed the subject.
Ruben was in great shape for Ramos. and Flores didn't want to give him time to fall out of shape.
Just four weeks after the disappointing loss to Mando Ramos, Navarro would have a chance to face another hot L.A. lightweight, "Irish" Frankie Crawford.
Crawford had engaged in two tough wars with Mando Ramos early in their careers, and had upset Ramos in their first bout.
In the time since, he twice faced featherweight champ, Shozo Saijyo of Japan in Tokyo.
Both bouts with Saijyo were for the title, and it was reported that Crawford had been robbed of the decision in each.
In the first round of Ruben Navarro's bout with Frankie Crawford, the Maravilla Kid scored early, rattling Crawford with a jolting over-hand right to the jaw.
Crawford staggered back and fought to stay on his feet. That was the beginning of the end for Frankie Crawford.
After ten rounds, Navarro scored a near shutout on the scorecards.
In 1972, Navarro would start the year with three wins before being matched with another exceptional L.A. lightweight contender, Rodolfo "El Gato" Gonzalez.
Having fared well in cross-town showdowns with Rojas, Robertson, Ramos and Crawford, Ruben would this time face the last of the local 135 pound contenders.
He would also be facing the deadliest of the lot. A strong, elusive, power puncher with a clever, cunning style that destroyed opposition with devistating body blows.
Rodolfo Gonzalez' career had been stifled thru bad management and health challenges. He had scored thrity five consecutive KO's, a record among world champions of any size or era, but he was avoided for years.
Now under the management of Jackie McCoy, Gonzalez was a stablemate of Mando Ramos, and was starting to get important fights.
Although late in his career, Gonzalez was grateful. Better late than never.
At the Anaheim Convention Center, Ruben and El Gato would go toe-to-toe, but Navarro would spend a lot of time on the ropes, absorbing punishment.
Both men were cut, and at the end of ten rounds, Rodolfo Gonzalez was awarded a close, majority decision.
By this time, I had left the Johnny Flores stable, and after the Gonzalez match, Ruben would also part with Flores.
During the remaining two years of Ruben Navarro's ring career, he would be guided by Harry Kabakoff.
I remember Ruben complaining to myself and another boxer, "Harry takes 50% of my purse!"
The other boxer laughed, "Is that all he's taking? He didn't treat me that well."
During the next nine months, the WBC lightweight title would change hands three times.
Mando Ramos had won the title from Pedro Carrasco. Mando was then KOed by Chango Carmona and lost the title to the Mexican Lightweight champ.
Ramos stablemate, Rodolfo Gonzalez then was given a long awaited title shot, taking on Carmona in his first title defense.
Rodolfo "El Gato" Gonzalez knew he'd only have one chance to become a champion and took full advantage of the opportunity.
El Gato destroyed Chango Carmona, the bout being stopped after twelve rounds. Rodolfo Gonzalez was now the WBC Lightweight Champion of the world.
El Gatos' first title defense would be against the Maravilla Kid. The match would be held at the Los Angeles Sports Arena, the same place where Navarro had fought Ken Buchanan, two years earlier.
It was an all-star card that also featured WBA Lightweight Champ, Roberto Duran, in a non-title fight.
After seeing how handily Rodolfo Gonzalez had handled Chango Carmona, I was concerned for my former stablemate.
Navarro attempted to box El Gato but Gonzalez just kept the pressure on, slamming Ruben with brutal hooks and upper cuts, closing one eye and bloodying his face.
Ruben fought back gamely but in the ninth round, referee George Latka stopped the bout.
After the loss to Gonzalez, Ruben would only fight two more times.
His last bout took place in 1974, at the legendary San Diego Coliseum. The Coliseum was a far cry from the big venues that Navarro had packed during his heyday.
The Coliseum was nothing more than a glorified cock pit, a place that held several hundred fans. I used to consider it a "Graveyard" for L.A. fighters.
I would have my last fight at the San Diego Coliseum, and so would Ruben Navarro a few months later.
In his last ring appearance, the "Maravilla Kid" Ruben Navarro would take on another comebacking former contender, former Mexican featherweight champ, Aurileo Muniz.
Muniz stopped Ruben in the seventh round. Navarro called it quits, never to return to boxing.
A few months later, I see Ruben at the Atlantic Square shopping center in Monterey Park. He was with his wife Carol and three children, Todd, Julie and Lance.
Ruben said he had been working carrying steel for a freeway construction company, and his wife Carol had become involved with the Jehova's Witness religon.
The next time I would see or talk with Ruben Navarro would be more than twenty years later. He was a different man.
Ruben Navarro had many years of sobriety and himself had become a Jehovahs Witmess.
He looked good, a lot heavier, but a lot happier inside. His dark black hair had turned white, his features had softened.
However, when I looked deep into his coal black eyes I could see the warrior of days past. And when he spoke, the voice was the same deep gravely tone I'd come to know very well.
Today I see a lot of sad cases when I visit with boxers from the past. Not so with Ruben Navarro.
After boxing, Ruben would own several businesses and all have done well. He had transformed himself from a wild Hell raiser to a dedicated family man.
East L.A.'s Ruben Navarro, the "Maravilla Kid" made it big in boxing, and even bigger in life.
A true success story!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
OUT OF MIND
By Roger Esty
"I remember him fighting a lot across the border and at the Coliseum,"I said to Burke.
First time I saw Burke behind the bar since he bought the joint. Said he wanted to know what it was like to tend bar again.
"Oh,he had a lot of matches in LA. and in Vegas too,"he came back with as he was wiping the couinter with a towel.
The fighter we were talking about was sitting at the back end of the bar. Burke said that he'd come in to say hello that's all.
"He took a beating by Hafey,"I said.
"Yes.He was downhill after that,"said Burke.
"I think I saw him the last time he was out at the Coliseum."
"They shouldn't have let him fight anymore."
We were both looking at him while discussing his career. Burke was still wiping the counter. It was dry,but he was still wiping the counter anyway.
"They never know when to stop,"said Burke. "I had over 80 fights.I'd had enough."
Any guy that's had over 80 fights has a face that validates that record. Burke was no exception. Why go into it. Every feature was dented and misshapen.80 fights worth.
The ex fighter at the end of the bar was watching the television. The baseball playoffs were on. There was a little beer left in the glass.
"I knew his manager ,"said Burke."As long as he could make money with him,he kept him in the ring."
Burke finally stopped wiping the bar.
"Want another refill?"
"No.One is good enough."
I looked at fighter at the end of the bar. He wasn't watching the TV anymore. I couldn't tell what he was looking at.
"Well ,I've got to get going,"I said. "Go ahead and set him up one on me."
As I put the money on the bar,the old guy at the end got off his stool and walked with his head down to the juke box. His arms were resting on the juke box as he looked at what was on there. He didn't put any money in.
"Good night Burke."
"Good night,"said Burke."I'll see you again."
As I walked out to my car,I still didn't hear any music coming from the juke box.
"I remember him fighting a lot across the border and at the Coliseum,"I said to Burke.
First time I saw Burke behind the bar since he bought the joint. Said he wanted to know what it was like to tend bar again.
"Oh,he had a lot of matches in LA. and in Vegas too,"he came back with as he was wiping the couinter with a towel.
The fighter we were talking about was sitting at the back end of the bar. Burke said that he'd come in to say hello that's all.
"He took a beating by Hafey,"I said.
"Yes.He was downhill after that,"said Burke.
"I think I saw him the last time he was out at the Coliseum."
"They shouldn't have let him fight anymore."
We were both looking at him while discussing his career. Burke was still wiping the counter. It was dry,but he was still wiping the counter anyway.
"They never know when to stop,"said Burke. "I had over 80 fights.I'd had enough."
Any guy that's had over 80 fights has a face that validates that record. Burke was no exception. Why go into it. Every feature was dented and misshapen.80 fights worth.
The ex fighter at the end of the bar was watching the television. The baseball playoffs were on. There was a little beer left in the glass.
"I knew his manager ,"said Burke."As long as he could make money with him,he kept him in the ring."
Burke finally stopped wiping the bar.
"Want another refill?"
"No.One is good enough."
I looked at fighter at the end of the bar. He wasn't watching the TV anymore. I couldn't tell what he was looking at.
"Well ,I've got to get going,"I said. "Go ahead and set him up one on me."
As I put the money on the bar,the old guy at the end got off his stool and walked with his head down to the juke box. His arms were resting on the juke box as he looked at what was on there. He didn't put any money in.
"Good night Burke."
"Good night,"said Burke."I'll see you again."
As I walked out to my car,I still didn't hear any music coming from the juke box.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Ernie 'Indian Red' Lopez dies at 64; welterweight fought before sellout crowds at the Forum
Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez lost welterweight title bouts to Jose Napoles in 1970 and '73 but was still a fan favorite. (Theo Ehret / March 3, 2004)
By Keith Thursby
October 5, 2009
Ernie "Indian Red" Lopez, a popular boxer in the 1960s and '70s who twice lost title fights before sellout crowds at the Forum and was found in a Texas homeless shelter just in time to be honored for his accomplishments in the ring, has died. He was 64.
Lopez died Saturday in Pleasant Grove, Utah, from complications of dementia, said one of his sisters, Naomi Adams. He had lived with Adams' family for five years before recently moving into a rest home, she said.
"He never became a champion, but he was very popular with the fans," said Bill Caplan, longtime Los Angeles boxing publicist. "He was aggressive; he didn't worry about getting hit."
Lopez fought for the welterweight title twice against Jose Napoles, losing in the 15th round in 1970 and in the seventh round in 1973. "He was a very good fighter, but Napoles was a great fighter," Kaplan said.
He also had three memorable fights against Hedgemon Lewis, winning twice.
"Lopez was a warrior," actor Ryan O'Neal, who managed Lewis when he fought Lopez, said in 2004. "He was also a gentleman, a decent man. But as a fighter, Lopez would hit the other guy so much he would become exhausted. Because of that, Lopez would always fill an arena, because he would give fans their money's worth. . . . It was his heart that made him win."
By 1974, Lopez was divorced and his career was over. His connections to his family decreased as the years went by.
"It was the losses to Napoles and the divorce that sent Ernie into a tailspin," his brother, former featherweight champion Danny Lopez, said in 2004. "He was a hurt man."
That year, family members saw an item in The Times about Lopez being named to the California Boxing Hall of Fame, and they tried to find him. A Los Angeles police detective tracked down the former boxer in a Fort Worth homeless shelter.
Don Fraser, president of the California Boxing Hall of Fame and a retired boxing promoter, paid for Lopez's flight to Los Angeles. "Some of the guys got him a suit and a hat," he said. "To him it was really something. I think he was overwhelmed."
Lopez was born in 1945, on a Ute Indian reservation in Fort Duchesne, Utah, one of eight children. He met his former wife, Marcia Park, when they were students at Orem High School in Orem, Utah. They moved to California in the mid-1960s, and he fought most of his career out of Los Angeles' Main Street Gym.
Lopez is survived by his son, Lance, and daughters Cindy, Kami and Tracy, three brothers and two sisters, 22 grandchildren and one great-grandchild. Services will be Saturday in Utah.
keith.thursby@latimes.com
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Ernie "Red" Lopez
Ernie "Red" Lopez, who twice fought for the world welterweight title in front of sellout crowds at the Forum in the early '70s. losing both time to Jose Napoles, died Friday in Utah. The brother of Danny "Little Red " Lopez. Ernie Lopez was 63.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Diaz-Malignaggi Rematch?
By Edgar Gonzalez
A rematch between Juan Diaz and Paulie Malignaggi has fallen apart. Over the course of the past two weeks Malignaggi’s promoter, Lou DiBella of DiBella Entertainment, and Diaz’s promoter, Richard Schaefer of Golden Boy Promotions, began hammering out the details of Malignaggi vs. Diaz 2, with both sides agreeing that everything would be split and distributed evenly, from the fighter’s purses to the percentage of profits off the event that both companies would keep. The two sides had begun reaching out to venues in Chicago due to its neutral location between Malignaggi’s hometown of Brooklyn, New York, and Diaz’s hometown of Houston, Texas (where the first fight took place). Even HBO was onboard, agreeing to pay a hefty license fee for the rights to air the bout on December 12. However Diaz and manager Willie Savannah rejected the offer Schaefer had struck on his behalf.
“I assumed when Golden Boy and I reached an agreement, that the deal was done, and I think Richard Schaefer believed it was going to get done,” said DiBella. “I know that Golden Boy tried to make this fight with the license fee that was available; they were frustrated by unreasonable management and an unwilling fighter.”
Diaz did not give a specific reason for his withdrawal other than saying he deferred his decision to manager Willie Savannah. Whoever made the final call, Malignaggi suspects it was the overture of neutrality that ultimately killed the bout from the Diaz end.
“If Juan is a real fighter, he will pull up his skirt and tell Willie Savannah he wants the rematch,” said Malignaggi. “Willie doesn’t want to do a rematch because they can’t screw me the second time around. In the spirit of competition, Juan should want a rematch and this rematch should happen.”
“The problem with marketplace decisions are that they give the beneficiaries the idea that they have marketplace leverage, even when they don’t,” added DiBella, who has another theory why Team Diaz has chosen to stay away from Paulie Malignaggi this time around: “I guess Juan Diaz doesn’t want to see his mother crying with her head buried in her hands again.”
Malignaggi is now moving on.
“I’m not going to wait on Juan Diaz,” he said. “I heard Diaz actually wants a rematch with Juan Manuel Marquez [who stopped Diaz in nine rounds in February], but who gives a crap? Marquez will knock him out cold again. Here’s an idea. How about Malignaggi vs. Marquez? I’ve got to keep it going, with or without Juan Diaz.”
A rematch between Juan Diaz and Paulie Malignaggi has fallen apart. Over the course of the past two weeks Malignaggi’s promoter, Lou DiBella of DiBella Entertainment, and Diaz’s promoter, Richard Schaefer of Golden Boy Promotions, began hammering out the details of Malignaggi vs. Diaz 2, with both sides agreeing that everything would be split and distributed evenly, from the fighter’s purses to the percentage of profits off the event that both companies would keep. The two sides had begun reaching out to venues in Chicago due to its neutral location between Malignaggi’s hometown of Brooklyn, New York, and Diaz’s hometown of Houston, Texas (where the first fight took place). Even HBO was onboard, agreeing to pay a hefty license fee for the rights to air the bout on December 12. However Diaz and manager Willie Savannah rejected the offer Schaefer had struck on his behalf.
“I assumed when Golden Boy and I reached an agreement, that the deal was done, and I think Richard Schaefer believed it was going to get done,” said DiBella. “I know that Golden Boy tried to make this fight with the license fee that was available; they were frustrated by unreasonable management and an unwilling fighter.”
Diaz did not give a specific reason for his withdrawal other than saying he deferred his decision to manager Willie Savannah. Whoever made the final call, Malignaggi suspects it was the overture of neutrality that ultimately killed the bout from the Diaz end.
“If Juan is a real fighter, he will pull up his skirt and tell Willie Savannah he wants the rematch,” said Malignaggi. “Willie doesn’t want to do a rematch because they can’t screw me the second time around. In the spirit of competition, Juan should want a rematch and this rematch should happen.”
“The problem with marketplace decisions are that they give the beneficiaries the idea that they have marketplace leverage, even when they don’t,” added DiBella, who has another theory why Team Diaz has chosen to stay away from Paulie Malignaggi this time around: “I guess Juan Diaz doesn’t want to see his mother crying with her head buried in her hands again.”
Malignaggi is now moving on.
“I’m not going to wait on Juan Diaz,” he said. “I heard Diaz actually wants a rematch with Juan Manuel Marquez [who stopped Diaz in nine rounds in February], but who gives a crap? Marquez will knock him out cold again. Here’s an idea. How about Malignaggi vs. Marquez? I’ve got to keep it going, with or without Juan Diaz.”
WHY ISN’T LUPE PINTOR IN THE INTERNATIONAL BOXING HALL OF FAME?
LUPE PINTOR
By Jim Amato
This is a story that you may say is regrettable. You may say it is sad or that it is a simple oversight. Or you may call it what it is, a travesty! If you look at the credentials of Lupe Pintor it is plain to see that they far exceed those of some that are enshrined in the I.B.H.O.F. This is a proud warrior who should have been inducted years ago but sadly he sits on the outside looking in.
Pintor was born in Mexico in 1955 and he turned professional in 1974. He first gained attention in 1975 when he upset previously unbeaten Willie “Birdlegs” Jensen via a seventh round knockout. In 1976 he would drop a decision to highly regarded Alberto Davila. Pintor continued to rack up victories stopping Tony Rocha, Baby Kid Chocolate and Davey Vasquez. He also out pointed Gerald Hayes. In 1978 he dropped verdicts to future super bantamweight champion Leo Cruz and Jose Luis Soto. A fourth round stoppage of Richard Rozelle put Lupe back in the title picture. On June 3, 1979 Pintor met the great Carlos Zarate for the WBC bantamweight title. The once beaten Zarate boxed well early on and even had Lupe down in the fourth round. As the fight progressed Pintor began to come on. Still at the end of fifteen rounds the decision was in doubt. One judge had Zarate in front by an outrageous score of 145-133. The other two judges shocked the crowd voting for the new champion Lupe Pintor by the score of 143-142. It was a highly controversial verdict. A disgusted Zarate would stay away from boxing for nearly seven years.
Pintor proved to be a busy and worthy champion. In 1980 he turned back the challenge of the talented Alberto “Superfly” Sandoval. In his next defense he drew with tough Eijro Murata. Then came a tragic defense against the gritty Welshman Johnny Owen. Pintor kayoed Owen in round twelve. The brave Owen would die from injuries in this bout two months later. Somehow Pintor put the tragedy behind him and continued to defend his title. He would defeat Alberto Davila in a rematch. In 1981 he outscored Joe Felix Uziga and Jovito Rengifo. He then stopped Hurricane Teru in the final round. In 1982 he took out Seung Hoon Lee in the eleventh round. It was Lupe’s eighth successful title defense. He would then relinquish the crown to go after Wilfredo Gomez at 122 pounds. Pintor won a ten rounder over former WBA bantamweight king Jorge Lujan and then challenged Gomez. The fight took place on December 3, 1982. It was quite a memorable affair. When I think of great fights I have seen, Foreman – Lyle, Pryor – Arguello I, Duran – Barkley and Gomez – Pintor quickly come to mind. This was an action packed encounter with several shifts in momentum. It was a true classic that ended in round fourteen with Gomez retaining his WBC super bantamweight title.
Pintor would lay off for over a year. Upon returning he won three straight but was then upset by Adriano Arreola. In 1985 Pintor was matched with Juan “Kid” Meza who now held the WBC 122 pound crown. Meza had won the title in impressive fashion by clocking undefeated Jaime Garza in one round. Pintor surprised the experts by flooring the game Meza three times on his way to a decision victory. Pintor was again a champion. This title reign didn’t last long though. In 1986 he came in over the weight limit in a title defense and forfeited his crown. His opponent Samart Payakaroon then halted him.
Lupe did not box again for eight years. He returned in 1994 as a lightweight. Pintor won only two of seven bouts and he would retire for good in 1995. In 72 bouts Pintor posted a 56-14-2 record. He won 42 inside the distance. He held the bantamweight title for three years taking on all comers. The only worthy opponent he missed was his WBA counterpart Jeff Chandler. The unification bout just never materialized. Chandler, a great fighter in his own right was inducted way back in 2000. Where is the justice here? It is time for Lupe Pintor to get the recognition he deserves.
By Jim Amato
This is a story that you may say is regrettable. You may say it is sad or that it is a simple oversight. Or you may call it what it is, a travesty! If you look at the credentials of Lupe Pintor it is plain to see that they far exceed those of some that are enshrined in the I.B.H.O.F. This is a proud warrior who should have been inducted years ago but sadly he sits on the outside looking in.
Pintor was born in Mexico in 1955 and he turned professional in 1974. He first gained attention in 1975 when he upset previously unbeaten Willie “Birdlegs” Jensen via a seventh round knockout. In 1976 he would drop a decision to highly regarded Alberto Davila. Pintor continued to rack up victories stopping Tony Rocha, Baby Kid Chocolate and Davey Vasquez. He also out pointed Gerald Hayes. In 1978 he dropped verdicts to future super bantamweight champion Leo Cruz and Jose Luis Soto. A fourth round stoppage of Richard Rozelle put Lupe back in the title picture. On June 3, 1979 Pintor met the great Carlos Zarate for the WBC bantamweight title. The once beaten Zarate boxed well early on and even had Lupe down in the fourth round. As the fight progressed Pintor began to come on. Still at the end of fifteen rounds the decision was in doubt. One judge had Zarate in front by an outrageous score of 145-133. The other two judges shocked the crowd voting for the new champion Lupe Pintor by the score of 143-142. It was a highly controversial verdict. A disgusted Zarate would stay away from boxing for nearly seven years.
Pintor proved to be a busy and worthy champion. In 1980 he turned back the challenge of the talented Alberto “Superfly” Sandoval. In his next defense he drew with tough Eijro Murata. Then came a tragic defense against the gritty Welshman Johnny Owen. Pintor kayoed Owen in round twelve. The brave Owen would die from injuries in this bout two months later. Somehow Pintor put the tragedy behind him and continued to defend his title. He would defeat Alberto Davila in a rematch. In 1981 he outscored Joe Felix Uziga and Jovito Rengifo. He then stopped Hurricane Teru in the final round. In 1982 he took out Seung Hoon Lee in the eleventh round. It was Lupe’s eighth successful title defense. He would then relinquish the crown to go after Wilfredo Gomez at 122 pounds. Pintor won a ten rounder over former WBA bantamweight king Jorge Lujan and then challenged Gomez. The fight took place on December 3, 1982. It was quite a memorable affair. When I think of great fights I have seen, Foreman – Lyle, Pryor – Arguello I, Duran – Barkley and Gomez – Pintor quickly come to mind. This was an action packed encounter with several shifts in momentum. It was a true classic that ended in round fourteen with Gomez retaining his WBC super bantamweight title.
Pintor would lay off for over a year. Upon returning he won three straight but was then upset by Adriano Arreola. In 1985 Pintor was matched with Juan “Kid” Meza who now held the WBC 122 pound crown. Meza had won the title in impressive fashion by clocking undefeated Jaime Garza in one round. Pintor surprised the experts by flooring the game Meza three times on his way to a decision victory. Pintor was again a champion. This title reign didn’t last long though. In 1986 he came in over the weight limit in a title defense and forfeited his crown. His opponent Samart Payakaroon then halted him.
Lupe did not box again for eight years. He returned in 1994 as a lightweight. Pintor won only two of seven bouts and he would retire for good in 1995. In 72 bouts Pintor posted a 56-14-2 record. He won 42 inside the distance. He held the bantamweight title for three years taking on all comers. The only worthy opponent he missed was his WBA counterpart Jeff Chandler. The unification bout just never materialized. Chandler, a great fighter in his own right was inducted way back in 2000. Where is the justice here? It is time for Lupe Pintor to get the recognition he deserves.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
California’s Newest Inductees!
By Michele Chong
Hall of Fame luncheon honors local legends
Saturday was a busy day for members of the SoCal boxing community. While the long-hyped matchup between Riverside’s Chris Arreola and Vitali Klitschko was scheduled to take place at the Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles later in the evening, over 30 local legends were inducted into the California Boxing Hall of Fame earlier in the day.
Hosted by Don Fraser, President and founder of the West Coast organization, the Class of 2009 received their honors in front of a packed Crystal Ballroom in Steven’s Steak & Seafood House in the City of Commerce.
Southern California is known for Tinsel Town, Disneyland, and our perpetual sunshine, but we also have a strong and thriving group of individuals who support and work in boxing. Fraser says this is a chance to honor those who have given back and still contribute to the sport we all love.
“These people are the grassroots of boxing,” explains the living legend, who was a fixture at the Olympic and Forum. “There’s been so much support for all of the inductees. This really just took off on its own; we’ve had calls come in from all over the country!”
Fraser worked with his staff to choose the deserving individuals for this year’s function and also gave praise to his Vice President, Frank Baltazar Sr. “Frank is head of the Selection Committee. He was a big help and did a great job.”
The afternoon was a family affair for Fraser and the inductees with most of the tables filled with proud parents and children applauding their own personal heroes. Don’s daughter, Denise, provided the weekend’s entertainment as her trio, The Denise Fraser Band (featuring Denise on drums, Karen Hernandez on keyboards and Nate Light on bass) played the theme song from “Rocky” as each honoree made their way up to the podium.
As the guests dined on a steak lunch, the inductees were announced by emcee Jim Fitzgerald as the new members of Fraser’s Hall of Fame. Included in this year’s group were Manny Pacquiao, Freddie Roach, Timothy Bradley, Gary Shaw, John Bray, Roy Englebrecht, Alex Ramos, Jesus Pimentel, Charlie Powell, Paul Vaden, Kid Rayo, Davey Gallardo, Van Barbieri, Jack O’Halloran, P.J. Goossen, Robert Garcia, Eduardo Garcia, Ken Green, Howard Smith, Jesse Reid, Paul Andrews, Michael Buffer, John Jackson Sr., Gary Ballin, Jacquie Richardson, Tony Cerda, Tony Fuentes, Bob Fuentes, Alexis Arguello, Sugar Ray Robinson and Jim Jeffries.
Since he’s in camp with Pacquiao, trainer Freddie Roach’s mother was there to collect his newest award for “Man of the Year.” The spunky Barbara Roach (who is a former boxing judge) can also be given the title “Mom of the Year.” She sat at a head table with Freddie’s brothers Pepper and Paul and her pretty granddaughter, Esa. Sadly, another son, Joey, recently passed away in Las Vegas.
Promoter Gary Shaw was also given the prestigious honor and was introduced by co-promoter Ken Thompson, who said of his friend and associate, “The legacy began from New Jersey all the way to the Hall of Fame.” And if Shaw were to start a second career, he could be a comedian. The veteran promoter cracked jokes while accepting his award with his usual brand of humor and humbleness combined.
“I told my wife that this was gonna be a big day for me, with fans mobbing me at the awards,” began Shaw. “And they did mob me–when they all asked if “Perro” Angulo was coming!”
With his star fighter-on-the-rise Alfredo Angulo laughing from the audience, the promoter kidded, “You know one of my other fighters, Yonnhy Perez, bought a house for his trainer. So I think it’s time for “Perro” to buy me a house…a watch…maybe a meal at least?”
Angulo, who wears a sparkling wrist watch of his own, joked with me later on, “Yes, when I get a title–I will buy him a watch!” The popular middleweight also said that Gary Shaw is like a father to him; the duo is frequently seen together at various L.A. events. Angulo will be on the undercard of the Chad Dawson-Glen Johnson battle on November 7.
Shaw, who promotes Angulo, Dawson, Timothy Bradley, Vic Darchinyan, Rafael Marquez among many others, thanked everyone from the bottom of his heart including his wife, Judy and son, Jared who were there in attendance. He also gave acknowledgment to Ken Thompson (who he called “first class”) and Jersey Joe Walcott, who gave him his start in the boxing business through the New Jersey State Athletic Control Commission. Shaw has promoted thousands of fights including the Mike Tyson-Lennox Lewis bout and was the promoter of fallen fighters Diego Corrales and Vern Forrest.
A prostate cancer survivor, Shaw also took time to bring awareness to the illness. The founder of Gary Shaw Productions was seated with Angulo, Thompson and his wife, Vera, matchmaker Alex Camponovo and his wife, Bea, and Thompson Boxing Promotions’ Art Olson. At an adjacent table were boxer Daniel “El Travieso” Hernandez (fighting on Thompson’s October 9 card) the WBC’s Dr. Joe Noriega, and Shaw and Thompson champion Yonnhy Perez with his trainer Danny Zamora. Colombian bantamweight Perez will be facing Joseph Agbeko on October 31 at the Treasure Island Casino in Vegas.
Another promoter who was honored, and is also very active and well-known in the fight game, was Orange County’s Roy Englebrecht, who attributed “faith, family and fighting” as his secrets to success. The “Battle in the Ballroom” businessman quipped, “You have to be sustained by prayer while promoting a show–the fighters have to show up, you hope it doesn’t rain, you hope the ambulances get there…so you better believe in prayer!” He also gave credit to his mentor Don Fraser.
For older veterans like Charlie Powell and Kid Rayo, the Hall of Fame honors gave them a well-earned day in the sun as their families were able to pay tribute to all the sacrifices they made.
And family was at the forefront of the day, with heartfelt and emotional speeches from many of the inductees.
World titlist and San Diego native Paul Vaden gave a very moving and inspiring speech while he was on stage, “I was able to fulfill my dreams and answer the bell!” He also dedicated his award to his mother, his late father and to his son, Dane.
Alex Ramos, the “Bronx Bomber,” who now runs his Retired Boxers Foundation from Southern California, often states, “I’m going to die a fighter!” He takes pride in being part of the boxing world and said while at the mike, “I’ve been around boxing a long time–and I love it. I love what I do today in trying to help boxers. I’m going to die trying to help boxers!”
Also appearing at the luncheon were former fighters Danny “Little Red” Lopez, Bobby Chacon, Randy Shields, Mando Muñiz, Frankie Baltazar, Allen Syers, politicians Steve Cooley and Carmen Trutanich, and the Golden State Boxer’s Association Larry and Elsa Montalvo and Bill and Linda Dempsey Young.
As dessert was served, several of us at the luncheon had to leave the festivities to head to the Staples Center fight. New inductee P.J. Goossen’s family Goossen Tutor Promotions was a promoter of Saturday night’s marquee matchup. P.J. and his dad, Pat, were both professional boxers and the whole family is well-known throughout the San Fernando Valley and beyond. Another SFV resident, former fighter and current trainer John Bray also left a bit early, as he was doing corner work in one of the undercards of the night.
And at the awards show, the buzz was all about Arreola’s chances of making history as the first Mexican-American heavyweight champ.
While Chris was stopped short in attaining his goal, the Class of 2009 Inductees did succced in making history–their names will be forever listed as members of the California Boxing Hall of Fame.
Congratulations again to all the newest honorees!
Hall of Fame luncheon honors local legends
Saturday was a busy day for members of the SoCal boxing community. While the long-hyped matchup between Riverside’s Chris Arreola and Vitali Klitschko was scheduled to take place at the Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles later in the evening, over 30 local legends were inducted into the California Boxing Hall of Fame earlier in the day.
Hosted by Don Fraser, President and founder of the West Coast organization, the Class of 2009 received their honors in front of a packed Crystal Ballroom in Steven’s Steak & Seafood House in the City of Commerce.
Southern California is known for Tinsel Town, Disneyland, and our perpetual sunshine, but we also have a strong and thriving group of individuals who support and work in boxing. Fraser says this is a chance to honor those who have given back and still contribute to the sport we all love.
“These people are the grassroots of boxing,” explains the living legend, who was a fixture at the Olympic and Forum. “There’s been so much support for all of the inductees. This really just took off on its own; we’ve had calls come in from all over the country!”
Fraser worked with his staff to choose the deserving individuals for this year’s function and also gave praise to his Vice President, Frank Baltazar Sr. “Frank is head of the Selection Committee. He was a big help and did a great job.”
The afternoon was a family affair for Fraser and the inductees with most of the tables filled with proud parents and children applauding their own personal heroes. Don’s daughter, Denise, provided the weekend’s entertainment as her trio, The Denise Fraser Band (featuring Denise on drums, Karen Hernandez on keyboards and Nate Light on bass) played the theme song from “Rocky” as each honoree made their way up to the podium.
As the guests dined on a steak lunch, the inductees were announced by emcee Jim Fitzgerald as the new members of Fraser’s Hall of Fame. Included in this year’s group were Manny Pacquiao, Freddie Roach, Timothy Bradley, Gary Shaw, John Bray, Roy Englebrecht, Alex Ramos, Jesus Pimentel, Charlie Powell, Paul Vaden, Kid Rayo, Davey Gallardo, Van Barbieri, Jack O’Halloran, P.J. Goossen, Robert Garcia, Eduardo Garcia, Ken Green, Howard Smith, Jesse Reid, Paul Andrews, Michael Buffer, John Jackson Sr., Gary Ballin, Jacquie Richardson, Tony Cerda, Tony Fuentes, Bob Fuentes, Alexis Arguello, Sugar Ray Robinson and Jim Jeffries.
Since he’s in camp with Pacquiao, trainer Freddie Roach’s mother was there to collect his newest award for “Man of the Year.” The spunky Barbara Roach (who is a former boxing judge) can also be given the title “Mom of the Year.” She sat at a head table with Freddie’s brothers Pepper and Paul and her pretty granddaughter, Esa. Sadly, another son, Joey, recently passed away in Las Vegas.
Promoter Gary Shaw was also given the prestigious honor and was introduced by co-promoter Ken Thompson, who said of his friend and associate, “The legacy began from New Jersey all the way to the Hall of Fame.” And if Shaw were to start a second career, he could be a comedian. The veteran promoter cracked jokes while accepting his award with his usual brand of humor and humbleness combined.
“I told my wife that this was gonna be a big day for me, with fans mobbing me at the awards,” began Shaw. “And they did mob me–when they all asked if “Perro” Angulo was coming!”
With his star fighter-on-the-rise Alfredo Angulo laughing from the audience, the promoter kidded, “You know one of my other fighters, Yonnhy Perez, bought a house for his trainer. So I think it’s time for “Perro” to buy me a house…a watch…maybe a meal at least?”
Angulo, who wears a sparkling wrist watch of his own, joked with me later on, “Yes, when I get a title–I will buy him a watch!” The popular middleweight also said that Gary Shaw is like a father to him; the duo is frequently seen together at various L.A. events. Angulo will be on the undercard of the Chad Dawson-Glen Johnson battle on November 7.
Shaw, who promotes Angulo, Dawson, Timothy Bradley, Vic Darchinyan, Rafael Marquez among many others, thanked everyone from the bottom of his heart including his wife, Judy and son, Jared who were there in attendance. He also gave acknowledgment to Ken Thompson (who he called “first class”) and Jersey Joe Walcott, who gave him his start in the boxing business through the New Jersey State Athletic Control Commission. Shaw has promoted thousands of fights including the Mike Tyson-Lennox Lewis bout and was the promoter of fallen fighters Diego Corrales and Vern Forrest.
A prostate cancer survivor, Shaw also took time to bring awareness to the illness. The founder of Gary Shaw Productions was seated with Angulo, Thompson and his wife, Vera, matchmaker Alex Camponovo and his wife, Bea, and Thompson Boxing Promotions’ Art Olson. At an adjacent table were boxer Daniel “El Travieso” Hernandez (fighting on Thompson’s October 9 card) the WBC’s Dr. Joe Noriega, and Shaw and Thompson champion Yonnhy Perez with his trainer Danny Zamora. Colombian bantamweight Perez will be facing Joseph Agbeko on October 31 at the Treasure Island Casino in Vegas.
Another promoter who was honored, and is also very active and well-known in the fight game, was Orange County’s Roy Englebrecht, who attributed “faith, family and fighting” as his secrets to success. The “Battle in the Ballroom” businessman quipped, “You have to be sustained by prayer while promoting a show–the fighters have to show up, you hope it doesn’t rain, you hope the ambulances get there…so you better believe in prayer!” He also gave credit to his mentor Don Fraser.
For older veterans like Charlie Powell and Kid Rayo, the Hall of Fame honors gave them a well-earned day in the sun as their families were able to pay tribute to all the sacrifices they made.
And family was at the forefront of the day, with heartfelt and emotional speeches from many of the inductees.
World titlist and San Diego native Paul Vaden gave a very moving and inspiring speech while he was on stage, “I was able to fulfill my dreams and answer the bell!” He also dedicated his award to his mother, his late father and to his son, Dane.
Alex Ramos, the “Bronx Bomber,” who now runs his Retired Boxers Foundation from Southern California, often states, “I’m going to die a fighter!” He takes pride in being part of the boxing world and said while at the mike, “I’ve been around boxing a long time–and I love it. I love what I do today in trying to help boxers. I’m going to die trying to help boxers!”
Also appearing at the luncheon were former fighters Danny “Little Red” Lopez, Bobby Chacon, Randy Shields, Mando Muñiz, Frankie Baltazar, Allen Syers, politicians Steve Cooley and Carmen Trutanich, and the Golden State Boxer’s Association Larry and Elsa Montalvo and Bill and Linda Dempsey Young.
As dessert was served, several of us at the luncheon had to leave the festivities to head to the Staples Center fight. New inductee P.J. Goossen’s family Goossen Tutor Promotions was a promoter of Saturday night’s marquee matchup. P.J. and his dad, Pat, were both professional boxers and the whole family is well-known throughout the San Fernando Valley and beyond. Another SFV resident, former fighter and current trainer John Bray also left a bit early, as he was doing corner work in one of the undercards of the night.
And at the awards show, the buzz was all about Arreola’s chances of making history as the first Mexican-American heavyweight champ.
While Chris was stopped short in attaining his goal, the Class of 2009 Inductees did succced in making history–their names will be forever listed as members of the California Boxing Hall of Fame.
Congratulations again to all the newest honorees!
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Defeated Cris Arreola vows to get back into the ring quickly
'I want to fight as soon as possible, December or January,' Arreola says after losing to Vitali Klitschko. 'I'm not going to let this fight break me.'
September 27, 2009
Cris Arreola wiped away the tears that engulfed him after his first career loss, and vowed to quickly rid "the bitter taste in my mouth" that came with joining the club of losing to a Klitschko.
Riverside's Arreola (27-1) was outpunched 301-86, out-jabbed 150-62 and deemed the loser of every round by one judge Saturday before his trainer Henry Ramirez told referee Jon Schorle to award Vitali Klitschko a 10th-round technical knockout victory, blocking Arreola's quest to become the first world heavyweight champion of Mexican ancestry.
"I want to fight as soon as possible, December or January," Arreola said in the post-fight news conference after sobbing on HBO cameras as he apologized for losing. "It's back to the drawing board, back to the gym. I'm not going to let this fight break me."
"I earned this shot and got my [rear] kicked. Now, it's time for me to earn a shot again and do some [rear] kicking."
That was the tone of the post-fight evening, as Arreola's promoter Dan Goossen lamented "the only way to beat Vitali Klitschko [age 38] is to have him retire," and Klitschko and boxing powers praised the beaten challenger's toughness and charisma.
"A couple of very hard punches I land to his head," Klitschko said. "But he stay. . . . Cris Arreola has all the skills to be a world champion."
HBO's Kery Davis, who oversees the process that puts big fights on our televisions, predicted, "Arreola will have another title chance. He's just 28, has a great personality and fights in a television-friendly style [24 knockouts]."
Reached later at his post-fight party at the Palm restaurant downtown, Goossen milked a drink and said he was unprepared to assess what he'll do next with Arreola.
"It boiled down to he fought a very talented heavyweight tonight," Goossen said. "Arreola has guts. Sometimes, the other team is better than you, but it doesn't mean you can't come back and play well again."
The immediate question is how long World Boxing Council champion Vitali and his younger brother and IBF and WBO heavyweight champ Wladimir want to continue their reign of the division. They're now vowing to capture all four major belts simultaneously.
American fight fans may not like their systematic, usually un-bloodied style -- Vitali said he stuck with his "Plan A" to defeat Arreola, sidestepping the challenger's rush and submitting him to combinations led by a jab flexed from a 78-inch reach -- but, like Vitali said, "I don't want to prove my head is strong in a fight by getting hit; I want to use my head to win. I'm sorry it's not as spectacular as a knockout."
Vitali's manager, Shelly Finkel, said afterward that he'll explore a December or January bout in Europe for his fighter against a member of the WBC top 10, possibly Oleg Maskaev, who attended Saturday's match.
Finkel admits his fighter's dominance makes it problematic to attract a large audience drawn to a compelling matchup. Staples fell more than 5,000 tickets short of a sellout. The next best option is to fight overseas, where large crowds flock to the Klitschkos regardless of their foes.
"Who do you have?" Finkel asked. "There's not that much to choose from."
Arreola paid sufficient respect to the champ. "He counteracted everything I had," the Riverside fighter said.
All the beaten challenger could do was pledge to return better, and fitter.
"No more Coronas," announced Arreola, his swollen eyes finding the nearly unblemished champion. "What do you drink, Vitali?"
lance.pugmire@latimes.com
September 27, 2009
Cris Arreola wiped away the tears that engulfed him after his first career loss, and vowed to quickly rid "the bitter taste in my mouth" that came with joining the club of losing to a Klitschko.
Riverside's Arreola (27-1) was outpunched 301-86, out-jabbed 150-62 and deemed the loser of every round by one judge Saturday before his trainer Henry Ramirez told referee Jon Schorle to award Vitali Klitschko a 10th-round technical knockout victory, blocking Arreola's quest to become the first world heavyweight champion of Mexican ancestry.
"I want to fight as soon as possible, December or January," Arreola said in the post-fight news conference after sobbing on HBO cameras as he apologized for losing. "It's back to the drawing board, back to the gym. I'm not going to let this fight break me."
"I earned this shot and got my [rear] kicked. Now, it's time for me to earn a shot again and do some [rear] kicking."
That was the tone of the post-fight evening, as Arreola's promoter Dan Goossen lamented "the only way to beat Vitali Klitschko [age 38] is to have him retire," and Klitschko and boxing powers praised the beaten challenger's toughness and charisma.
"A couple of very hard punches I land to his head," Klitschko said. "But he stay. . . . Cris Arreola has all the skills to be a world champion."
HBO's Kery Davis, who oversees the process that puts big fights on our televisions, predicted, "Arreola will have another title chance. He's just 28, has a great personality and fights in a television-friendly style [24 knockouts]."
Reached later at his post-fight party at the Palm restaurant downtown, Goossen milked a drink and said he was unprepared to assess what he'll do next with Arreola.
"It boiled down to he fought a very talented heavyweight tonight," Goossen said. "Arreola has guts. Sometimes, the other team is better than you, but it doesn't mean you can't come back and play well again."
The immediate question is how long World Boxing Council champion Vitali and his younger brother and IBF and WBO heavyweight champ Wladimir want to continue their reign of the division. They're now vowing to capture all four major belts simultaneously.
American fight fans may not like their systematic, usually un-bloodied style -- Vitali said he stuck with his "Plan A" to defeat Arreola, sidestepping the challenger's rush and submitting him to combinations led by a jab flexed from a 78-inch reach -- but, like Vitali said, "I don't want to prove my head is strong in a fight by getting hit; I want to use my head to win. I'm sorry it's not as spectacular as a knockout."
Vitali's manager, Shelly Finkel, said afterward that he'll explore a December or January bout in Europe for his fighter against a member of the WBC top 10, possibly Oleg Maskaev, who attended Saturday's match.
Finkel admits his fighter's dominance makes it problematic to attract a large audience drawn to a compelling matchup. Staples fell more than 5,000 tickets short of a sellout. The next best option is to fight overseas, where large crowds flock to the Klitschkos regardless of their foes.
"Who do you have?" Finkel asked. "There's not that much to choose from."
Arreola paid sufficient respect to the champ. "He counteracted everything I had," the Riverside fighter said.
All the beaten challenger could do was pledge to return better, and fitter.
"No more Coronas," announced Arreola, his swollen eyes finding the nearly unblemished champion. "What do you drink, Vitali?"
lance.pugmire@latimes.com
Saturday, September 26, 2009
YOU CAN'T TELL THE FIGHTERS WITHOUT LOOKING AT THE BROKEN NOSES
By Roger Esty
Being with fighters is like blending in with the wall. If you didn't know any better you would think you're in an elevator with a full load of passengers. Let me put it simply. Fighters are so unassuming(to use Randy De La O's adjective),you wouldn't know that these guys made their living as modern gladiators. They're standup guys. Modest to a point,but straight forward to that point at the same time. No pretentions. Down to earth grounded with politeness,but with a record of standing alone half naked in a ring testing their manhood fighting another man. Oh they do it for the money,but it's a real macho test anyway you look at it.
You don't have to be in the Ring Record Book to hang out with them. They're the most approachable athletes around. They don't whine about not getting enough attention. They got a gravitation of all sorts when they fought. Some characters that wanted to cash in on their fame and money. Those thieves were better any pick pockets on earth.
At the boxing banquets they're fans that gather around still. Aside from the creeps that want to get the fighters' autographs to sell on EBAY,the genuine boxing fan will have their old heros to rub shoulders with.
Sometimes the old pugs have changed appearances. The toll of the sport has rearranged their outsides and sometimes what is underneath their skins. If you've lost touch with them,you can't tell who they are. I guess you have to look for the broken noses.
Being with fighters is like blending in with the wall. If you didn't know any better you would think you're in an elevator with a full load of passengers. Let me put it simply. Fighters are so unassuming(to use Randy De La O's adjective),you wouldn't know that these guys made their living as modern gladiators. They're standup guys. Modest to a point,but straight forward to that point at the same time. No pretentions. Down to earth grounded with politeness,but with a record of standing alone half naked in a ring testing their manhood fighting another man. Oh they do it for the money,but it's a real macho test anyway you look at it.
You don't have to be in the Ring Record Book to hang out with them. They're the most approachable athletes around. They don't whine about not getting enough attention. They got a gravitation of all sorts when they fought. Some characters that wanted to cash in on their fame and money. Those thieves were better any pick pockets on earth.
At the boxing banquets they're fans that gather around still. Aside from the creeps that want to get the fighters' autographs to sell on EBAY,the genuine boxing fan will have their old heros to rub shoulders with.
Sometimes the old pugs have changed appearances. The toll of the sport has rearranged their outsides and sometimes what is underneath their skins. If you've lost touch with them,you can't tell who they are. I guess you have to look for the broken noses.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Power and Passion of Dwight Hawkins (PART 1)
by Rick Farris
In the early sixties boxing was on the ropes and reeling from the exposure of mob corruption. Names such as Frankie Carbo, Blinky Palermo and Jim Norris became the targets of eager politicians seeking to advance their careers. Their goal was the abolition of the sport that people love to hate. In 1965, Sonny Liston's questionable one round loss to Muhammad Ali in Lewiston, Maine did nothing to help matters.
However, like the cock roach, boxing proved itself to be the ultimate survivor. The sweet science suddenly began to flourish with a brash young heavyweight champ and the re-emergence of local clubs that began to produce some solid talent. It was about this time that I was given the chance to realize my goal of becoming a boxer. At the time, I doubt that a 12-year-old kid could have had a better opportunity to do so.
In the mid sixties, boxing in Los Angeles experienced a sudden rebirth thanks to the efforts of promoter Aileen Eaton. Mrs. Eaton turned the legendary Olympic Auditorium into the most successful weekly boxing promotion on the planet. With televised weekly cards every Thursday night, fifty weeks out of the year, the Olympic showcased some of the best talent in boxing.
In recent months, I've written about many of the young boxers that came out of the Olympic Auditorium promotions. However, there were also veteran contenders that filled the 18th & Grand arena and waged great wars as the young crop developed. One of the veterans was somebody whom I had the luck to meet and get to know very well. I am speaking of former bantamweight and featherweight contender Dwight "The Hawk" Hawkins.
Before I chronicle the life and career of Dwight Hawkins, I'd like for you to imagine this: In California, you must be eighteen-years-old to qualify for a professional boxing license. However, through creative management (AKA: a phony birth certificate) you are able to get a boxing license at fifteen. At age seventeen, after only a dozen pro fights, you are matched with a brilliant 22-year-old from Mexico. The Mexican was rated number one in the world and would become an all-time great champion in the bantamweight division. The future world champ had more than fifty pro fights and you are only a senior in high school. You are listed as a 10-to-1 underdog and considered an easy tune-up for the next boxer in line to fight for the title. Before a capacity crowd, attending a title fight in the main event, you shock the world by knocking out the number one contender, knocking him out cold.
Impossible? Not if you're Dwight Hawkins. That's exactly what "The Hawk" did on November 6, 1957. The 17-year-old Manual Arts High School senior knocked out future champ Jose Beccera in the fourth round. It was the biggest upset in world class professional boxing that year.
Let me start from the beginning and introduce you to one of the most brutal punching boxers to ever step into the ring. However, if you think a 17-year-old knocking out the great Jose Becerra was amazing, wait until you hear the whole story. I was lucky to be a part of the last five years of Hawkins career, and even luckier to have this man help train me early in my pro career.
In the late 1940's Dwight Hawkins was a small, athletic kid who loved sports. At the age of seven, Hawkins' mother, grandmother and uncle packed up the family car and left the South and headed West. Young Dwight's family sought a better life in California.
On their journey West the family drove through Texas late one night. As Dwight slept in the back seat of the car, he was suddenly awakened. The car had been forced off the road by another driver and Hawkins uncle, who was driving, lost control of the vehicle. The car went off the road and flipped over. Somehow everybody escaped serious injury except Dwight, whose left leg was trapped underneath the wreckage. It was hours before another car passed by and when a Texas Ranger finally stopped to see what had happened he found the young boy in agony.
The cop called for help over his radio and nearly an hour later an ambulance arrived. It took Dwight's uncle, the Texas Ranger and the two ambulance attendants nearly an hour to free the kid's leg from under the car. It took another 45 minutes to get the boy to a hospital. By the time they reached the emergency room it was doubtful that Dwight's leg could be saved. However, if this wasn't enough, there was another problem. This was post World War II Texas and Hawkins was black.
When the ambulance arrived at the hospital the head nurse in charge told the driver that the facility did not take black patients. She told him the boy would have to be transferred to another hospital nearly an hour away. "But the kid is going to lose his leg!" the driver protested. The nurse said she did not make the rules and the boy would have to be taken elsewhere.
About this time a doctor walks into the emergency receiving area to see what all the commotion was about. He took one look at the boy's leg and ordered the nurse, "Get him into an operating room NOW"! The nurse answered, "But doctor, we don't . . ." The doctor turned to the nurse and said, "Did you hear me? I said get that kid into an operating room or you won't have a job tomorrow"!
Had it not been for the human decency of the doctor, a seven-year-old would have lost his leg and very possibly his life early that morning in 1947. As it was, it would be touch and go regarding saving the leg and the doctor told Dwight's mother that the boy would spend the rest of his life on crutches.
When the family arrived in California they settled in East Los Angeles, a predominately Mexican-American community, but at the time, still had an ethnic mix including blacks, whites and Asians. Dwight's mother immediately found a job across town in a hospital. To get back and forth from work she'd have to ride the bus for more than three hours everyday.
Dwight was left in the care of his grandmother while his mother worked. After school, the boy would sit on the curb with his leg in a brace watching the neighborhood kids play baseball, football or what ever other sports they were involved with. This would be tough on any kid, but for one as athletic as young Dwight had been, it was heartbreaking.
Dwight would toss his crutches aside and try to play anyway. Hawkins could still run but it was painful to do so. However, it beat sitting on the sidelines and watching the other kids have all the fun. If his mother had found out about this he'd have been in big trouble. But sometimes a kid just has to do what he has to do, regardless of the risk.
One day, Dwight's friend Armando told him that a boxing ring and punching bags had been set up in the basement of a local church and that boxing lesson's were going to be offered to neighborhood kids. "Why don't you come down and watch us box"? the boy offered.
Dwight's mind began to race and it occurred to him that boxing didn't require kicking and he believed that he might be able to give it a try. However, he knew that nobody was going to let a crippled kid try out for boxing. One afternoon, Hawkins followed Armando and the others boys to the basement gym. Before entering Dwight tossed his crutches under a bush and pulled his pant leg down to make sure his brace was covered. He made the other boys swear not to tell the coach about his leg and the boys agreed to keep their friend's secret.
Hawkins found the boxing coach to be a tall, well built former boxer who'd spent twenty years as a Sargent in the Marine Corps. The man was stern but fair and took a liking to Dwight. Hawkins was smaller than the other kids and worked twice as hard as the rest. He also proved himself to have a natural talent and in no time was outfighting the other boys, even the bigger ones. Dwight was able to hide the leg from the coach until it was time for the boys to compete in a kids boxing program. The boy's on the church team would all have to wear boxing trunks.
To keep his secret from the coach, Hawkins removed the brace and tossed it under the bush with his crutches. He then took an elastic band and wrapped it around his knee for extra support. The coach was no fool and noticed the boy did not move with the same balance as the others. When the boys left the gym the coach quietly watched Hawkins walk down the street and saw the boy retrieve the brace and crutches.
The next day the coach called his tough little protege aside and looked him in the eyes. "Son, do you have something to tell me"? Dwight looked up and knew immediately that coach was on to him. The boy stammered, "Uh . . ". The coach had become like a father to Hawkins and Dwight idolized the man. The kid also loved boxing, a sport that he had found a way to excel in despite his injury. Suddenly, it hit the boy that what had become so important to him was about to evaporate. Tears filled Dwight's eyes and the big man kneeled down and put his arms around gutty little kid. "Why don't you just tell me about it and we'll see what we can do".
Dwight poured out his heart and the coach understood how important it was to the boy to be a part of the boxing team. He also understood how a mother would fear for the safety of the boys leg. The coach met with Dwight's mother and together he and Dwight told her about her son's secret after school activity. Dwight was a good student in school and had never caused his mother a days worry. Dwight's mother reluctantly agreed to let her son box and the coach promised her that he would not allow the boy to continue if the activity was hurting the leg.
With both his mother and Coach supporting his boxing, Dwight Hawkins felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Almost immediately, young Dwight not only became the best junior amateur boxer on his team, but one of the best in the City of Los Angeles.
A couple of years later, Mrs. Hawkins decided that it would be best to move across town closer to the hospital where she worked. The long bus rides were not only difficult but prevented her from spending time with her son. The Hawkins family left East L.A. and moved into the Imperial Courts Housing Project in Watts. Imperial Courts was, and is today, one of the most violent and dangerous projects in the country.
It was lucky for Dwight that he had established himself in amateur boxing at the time because it gave him the strength and reputation necessary to withstand pressure from the other kids in the project to join their gang. It wasn't easy, but nothing in the life of Dwight Hawkins was easy. If it was easy then anybody could do it. And "The Hawk" isn't just anybody.
It was at Imperial Courts that Hawkins learned first hand the problems of inner city youth, he lived it. At night, he would lay in his bed and hear the sound of gunshot's ringing through Imperial Courts. He saw countless neighbor's harassed by police or sent to jail for behavior that he knew was senseless. Violent death was also a way of life in the projects.
By the age fifteen, Hawkins had another problem. He was just too good for amateur boxers and nobody wanted to fight him. His coach, the big Marine who had been like a father to him knew that his protege was good enough to beat professional boxers because Dwight was doing it every day in the gym. Another problem was money, Dwight wanted to contribute financially so as his mother would not have to work so hard. He wanted to make it possible for his family to move out of the projects and professional boxing might be the answer.
It was at this point that Hawkins' coach contacted Johnny Flores. Flores was known as "Mr. Golden Gloves" in Los Angeles for his work with amateur boxers and was also a manager & trainer for some successful professionals. Flores knew all about Hawkins and believed that the fifteen-year-old was already good enough to fight in the pros. Along with Hawkins' amateur coach, Flores and his partner Hal Benson helped Hawkins secure a phony birth certificate which enabled him to get a professional boxing license.
Dwight Hawkins was only fifteen and a sophomore at Manual Arts High School in South Central L.A. when he made his professional boxing debut. Flores and Benson chose to take Hawkins out of Los Angeles for his first pro fight. They wanted their young fighter to have a little experience before he was seen in a fight Mecca such as L.A.
Johnny Flores took Hawkins to San Diego for his pro debut on May 14, 1956. In his first pro bout, Dwight Hawkins knocked out Rudy Cisneros in the first round. Two weeks later he returned to San Diego where he KO'ed Chuck Palomeros in two. It was now time to unveil the "The Hawk" in his hometown, the City of Angels.
The problem was that most of the prelim bantamweights in L.A. knew all about Hawkins. Dwight was a devastating body puncher with an awkward style and he'd already hurt a number of local fighters in the gym. In order to get a match Flores had to agree to let Hawkins face Tom Turner, and experienced veteran. Hawkins KO'ed Turner in four rounds. A month later, Dwight was matched with winning main eventer named Al Wilcher and this was a dangerous match because Wilcher had beaten the best of local talent and was not to be taken lightly. The bout was scheduled for ten rounds at the Olympic Auditorium. In the sixth round, Hawkins caught Wilcher with a brutal left hook to the liver, sending the veteran to the canvas where he was counted out. The Olympic crowd included several of Dwight's teachers at Manual Arts High as well as a couple of dozen of his classmates.
There were no local boxers willing to take on the hard punching teenager so Flores took "The Hawk" down to Tijuana, Mexico. Before a sell out crowd he scored a unanimous ten round decision over Joel Sanchez in the Tijuana bull ring. Dwight was 5-0 (4 KO's) when he began his junior year in high school.
Hawkins returned to L.A. and took on a tough veteran named Babe Antunez at the Hollywood Legion Stadium. Antunez was awarded a highly disputed decision over Hawkins and the fans demanded a rematch. Exactly one week later, Hawkins beat Antunez by decision in the same ring.
It was becoming becoming more difficult to find established main eventers willing to fight Hawkins. Flores agreed to match Hawkins with Fuji Rodriguez, a tough Japanese-Mexican fighter whom had been rated among the top ten bantamweights in the world. Hawkins dropped Rodriguez early in the fight but was cut by a head butt in the fourth round. After six rounds the referee was forced to stop the fight due to the cut.
Two months later, Hawkins returned with a first round KO over Leo Carter at the Olympic. A couple of weeks after KOing Carter, Hawkins was matched with world rated Herman Duncan at the Olympic. The scar tissue from the cut suffered in the Rodriguez fight two months earlier was still fresh and ripped open from a grazing left hook in the opening round. After six rounds referee Tommy Hart was forced to stop the bout. Despite Hawkins leading on all score cards, "The Hawk" suffered the second loss of his young career.
After winning his next three fights, two by knockout, Hawkins fought top rated Kid Irapuato in the Tijuana Bull ring. Hawkins beat Irapuato badly in a one-sided match, but after ten rounds the hometown judges awarded the fight to the Mexican . The loss was discouraging to Hawkins who had just turned seventeen and was proving himself as good as the top bantamweights in the world. He knew that winning wasn't enough, he'd have take the decision out of the judges hands or he was never going to make it. On November 6, 1957, that's exactly what Dwight Hawkins would do.
Alphonse Halimi was the Bantamweight Champion of the World and would defend his title against Raul "Raton" Macias at the Los Angeles Sports Arena. Mexico's Jose Becerra, the number one contender, would be next in line for a shot at the title.
It was decided that Becerra should be featured on the undercard of the title match to build interest in his impending shot at the crown. Becerra was an exceptional fighter and considered by many to be the best 118 pounder on the planet. The 22-year-old from Guadalajara, Mexico had been fighting professionally for nearly five years and had a record of 48-3-1 (24 KO's). He had beaten Jose Medel twice, KO'ed Kid Irapuato as well as Manuel Armenteros, all world class bantams.
It would be impossible to overmatch Becerra, but finding anybody willing to take on the future world champ on the Halimi-Macias undercard was not easy. Former champ Mario D'Agata pulled out at the last minute, as well as two other substitutes. Just two days before the fight the frantic matchmaker came up with an opponent. Dwight "The Hawk" Hawkins would take the fight. Hawkins wasn't world rated but he'd done well in matches with Herman Duncan and Kid Irapuato and the Los Angeles fans loved "The Hawk".
As mentioned earlier in this story, Dwight Hawkins shocked the world by upsetting Becerra. Jose Becerra was knocked unconscious in the fourth round by the 17-year-old Manuel Arts High School senior with only a dozen pro fights under his belt.. This ruined Becerra's chance to challenge Halimi, the winner over Macias, in his next title defense. It would be more than a year later before he'd finally face the champ from Algeria in the ring and win the title.
Suddenly Hawkins name became well known among the world's best bantamweights. However, it was also a name to be feared. "What benefit is there to fighting Dwight Hawkins?", was the question concerned managers asked themselves. "Hell, even if you find a way to beat the guy what does your fighter gain? Broken ribs? A victory over a teenager"? Hawkins was one to avoid, boxing is tough enough without throwing the name Dwight Hawkins into the equation.
Three weeks after defeating Becerra, Hawkins went to Mexicali where he faced Felix Cervantes, whom he'd knocked out two months previous in Tijuana. Hawkins had his way with Cervantes but this time the bout went the distance. When Hawkins failed to KO the Mexican he feared he'd have little chance of winning a decision below the border. He was right, The Mexicali judges awarded the match to Cervantes despite the fighter being dropped three times during the fight. Less than two weeks later he took on Kid Anahuac, who was a top ten rated featherweight. After ten bloody rounds the larger Mexican fighter was awarded a close split-decision over Hawkins.
Three months after the loss to Anahuac, Hawkins & Flores traveled back down below the border to Guadalajara to face Jose Becerra in a rematch. Becerra's loss to Hawkins had cost him a title shot with Halimi and it was important that he avenge the loss. To insure this, the match would be held in Mexico. Why Flores' agreed to let Hawkins fight Becerra in Guadalajara (Becerra's hometown) defies common sense. While training in Guadalajara Flores paid a Mexican assistant to bring bottled water to Hawkins to assure the fighter not be poisoned by the Mexican tap water. One day after drinking the water Hawkins became violently ill. Flores called for the assistant to get more water and then followed the man after he left the room. Flores witnessed the Mexican taking the bottle and filling it with water directly from the tap. It was now understood what was wrong with Hawkins. He had Montezuma's revenge. He had been poisoned by the water.
The following day Hawkins, still ailing, entered the ring against Becerra and was stopped in the ninth round.
A few weeks after losing to Becerra Hawkins was matched against another talented L.A. contender named Auburn Copeland. Copeland was the California Bantam king and agreed to fight Hawkins in a ten rounder, but would not risk his state title. Hawkins easily beat Copeland over ten rounds. The following month, he took on another top Mexican bantam Nacho Escalante in San Bernardino and won a unanimous decision.
Nine days after Hawkins beat Escalante, he fought one of the best bantamweights to never win a world title, Jose Medel. The fight was held in Mexico City and Medel stopped the seventeen-year-old two weeks after his high school graduation. Hawkins was disappointed but not discouraged and within a month was back in the ring against world rated Herman Marques at the Olympic. After a ten round war the bout was declared a draw.
Hawkins would win his next seven, four by KO, with victories over world rated featherweight Danny Valdez, Noel Humphries and a KO over Nacho Escalante in a rematch.
It was about this time that an 18-year-old Dwight Hawkins would meet and befriend somebody that would become a very important influence in his life. His name was Davey Moore.
Davey Moore was 25-years-old when he came to Los Angeles to challenge Hogan "Kid" Bassey for the World Featherweight championship in 1959. Style-wise, Moore and Bassey were similar in the ring. Both were strong, punishing fighters with knockout power in both hands. Moore needed sparring partners who would fight him hard in the gym, just as Bassey would fight defending his title. Veteran trainer & gym owner Jake Shagrue told Moore's manager Willie Ketchum that there was only one fighter in Los Angeles capable of filling the bill and that was Dwight Hawkins.
Hawkins was hired as a sparring partner for Moore and the two immediately became friends. Hawkins thought the world of the number one contender from Springfield, Ohio and the two would spend hours talking after finishing their workouts at Moore's training camp in Hemet, California. Moore was like an older brother to Hawkins and would warn the young fighter about the pitfalls of professional boxing. However, by the age of eighteen, Hawkins had already experienced the worst boxing could offer.
One of things that Moore stressed to Hawkins was the importance of family. Davey had six children back home in Springfield and every night would call his wife to check on her and tell her how things were going.
A few weeks later, Davey Moore would knock out Hogan "Kid" Bassey and win the world featherweight title. During the next four years that Moore would hold the title he and Hawkins would remain close.
After Moore won the title Hawkins found it impossible to get fights in Los Angeles and would have to move up to the featherweight division in order to get any fights at all. Many of Hawkins recent fights had already been against featherweights despite Dwight barely tipping the beam at 120 pounds.
In his next fight he would fly to Glasgow, Scotland and lose a disputed decision to Billy Rafferty. Six months later he took on top rated Nelson Estrada in the fighter's hometown of Caracas, Venezuela. Another close fight and another loss to a hometown hero. It was 1960 and 19-yearold Dwight Hawkins was tired of fighting his heart out and not getting any closer to a shot at the title. He announced his retirement from boxing and focused his energy on his true passion, working with kids.
For the next two years Hawkins became involved with the youth of South Central Los Angeles. He organized boxing programs at Imperial Courts as an alternative to gang involvement and the kids loved Hawkins. "The Hawk" spoke their language and had risen of above the desperation of the housing project and made a name for himself. Hawkins drove a nice car, wore nice clothes and spoke about how it WAS possible to make it out of the ghetto and make a difference in the world. Hawkins programs were quite successful and he was making an impression on the youth of Imperial Courts. Violent crimes committed by gang members in the project dropped to an all-time low and Hawkins influence was credited with the change.
The faculty of Manual Arts High School, Hawkins' alma mater, were well aware of Hawkins' program and the good he was doing at Imperial Courts. The High School principal set up a meeting with L.A. City School officials and Hawkins was invited to share his knowledge of Inner-city problems and make suggestions. So impressed were the board members that they hired Hawkins to work for the Los Angeles City School System as a "trouble shooter". Hawkins' new role would be to act as a liaison between gangs and the school system. They could not have made a better choice. It would be a position that Hawkins would fill right up to present day.
After two years away from boxing, Hawkins felt as if he still had something to do in the ring. After a couple of years the younger kids were no longer aware of who Hawkins was and he realized that the exposure afforded him during his boxing career was the foundation of his success in working with kids. Only 22-years-old and anxious to take care of unfinished business, Dwight Hawkins returned to boxing on October 15, 1962.
The Hollywood Legion Stadium was packed for Hawkins return and "The Hawk" scored a fourth round knockout over Manny Linson. After scoring two more victories Dwight would join his pal Davey Moore who was training for an upcoming title defense against Cuban Sugar Ramos. Hawkins would once again be Moore's chief sparring partner for the Ramos match.
While training for the Ramos fight, Moore and Hawkins would rise early in the morning and run the hills near the Moore's training camp in Hemet. On the final day of road work, Moore and Hawkins raced to the top of a mountain and after reaching the top sat together and talked while catching their breath. Hawkins idolized the featherweight champ and Moore was in a reflective mood. Moore told Hawkins about his childhood in Springfield Ohio and how happy he was that he could provide for a better life for his family than what he had as a child. He told Dwight that he would fight about another year or so and then retire. "Too much time away from the family" Moore said.
On March 21, 1963 Dwight Hawkins was at Dodger Stadium to watch his friend defend the featherweight title. That night Moore would not only lose his title to Ramos, but he would also lose his life. When Ramos knocked out Moore, Davey hit the back of his head on the lower strand of the ring ropes. Moore passed into a coma in the dressing room following the match and a couple of days later died in the hospital having never regained consciousness. Hawkins was devastated.
The loss of Davey Moore hurt Dwight Hawkins and took his mind off his own career. A few weeks later Hawkins would head back down to Mexico where he would take on another unbeaten future champ in Vicente Saldivar. Hawkins was stopped by the brilliant southpaw in the fifth round.
The loss of Moore and losing to Saldivar would prove a turning point in the life and career of Dwight Hawkins.
About a year later I would meet Dwight. "The Hawk" would rise above the pain once again and I would witness first hand one of the most amazing fighters to ever step into the ring.
(End- Part 1)
In the early sixties boxing was on the ropes and reeling from the exposure of mob corruption. Names such as Frankie Carbo, Blinky Palermo and Jim Norris became the targets of eager politicians seeking to advance their careers. Their goal was the abolition of the sport that people love to hate. In 1965, Sonny Liston's questionable one round loss to Muhammad Ali in Lewiston, Maine did nothing to help matters.
However, like the cock roach, boxing proved itself to be the ultimate survivor. The sweet science suddenly began to flourish with a brash young heavyweight champ and the re-emergence of local clubs that began to produce some solid talent. It was about this time that I was given the chance to realize my goal of becoming a boxer. At the time, I doubt that a 12-year-old kid could have had a better opportunity to do so.
In the mid sixties, boxing in Los Angeles experienced a sudden rebirth thanks to the efforts of promoter Aileen Eaton. Mrs. Eaton turned the legendary Olympic Auditorium into the most successful weekly boxing promotion on the planet. With televised weekly cards every Thursday night, fifty weeks out of the year, the Olympic showcased some of the best talent in boxing.
In recent months, I've written about many of the young boxers that came out of the Olympic Auditorium promotions. However, there were also veteran contenders that filled the 18th & Grand arena and waged great wars as the young crop developed. One of the veterans was somebody whom I had the luck to meet and get to know very well. I am speaking of former bantamweight and featherweight contender Dwight "The Hawk" Hawkins.
Before I chronicle the life and career of Dwight Hawkins, I'd like for you to imagine this: In California, you must be eighteen-years-old to qualify for a professional boxing license. However, through creative management (AKA: a phony birth certificate) you are able to get a boxing license at fifteen. At age seventeen, after only a dozen pro fights, you are matched with a brilliant 22-year-old from Mexico. The Mexican was rated number one in the world and would become an all-time great champion in the bantamweight division. The future world champ had more than fifty pro fights and you are only a senior in high school. You are listed as a 10-to-1 underdog and considered an easy tune-up for the next boxer in line to fight for the title. Before a capacity crowd, attending a title fight in the main event, you shock the world by knocking out the number one contender, knocking him out cold.
Impossible? Not if you're Dwight Hawkins. That's exactly what "The Hawk" did on November 6, 1957. The 17-year-old Manual Arts High School senior knocked out future champ Jose Beccera in the fourth round. It was the biggest upset in world class professional boxing that year.
Let me start from the beginning and introduce you to one of the most brutal punching boxers to ever step into the ring. However, if you think a 17-year-old knocking out the great Jose Becerra was amazing, wait until you hear the whole story. I was lucky to be a part of the last five years of Hawkins career, and even luckier to have this man help train me early in my pro career.
In the late 1940's Dwight Hawkins was a small, athletic kid who loved sports. At the age of seven, Hawkins' mother, grandmother and uncle packed up the family car and left the South and headed West. Young Dwight's family sought a better life in California.
On their journey West the family drove through Texas late one night. As Dwight slept in the back seat of the car, he was suddenly awakened. The car had been forced off the road by another driver and Hawkins uncle, who was driving, lost control of the vehicle. The car went off the road and flipped over. Somehow everybody escaped serious injury except Dwight, whose left leg was trapped underneath the wreckage. It was hours before another car passed by and when a Texas Ranger finally stopped to see what had happened he found the young boy in agony.
The cop called for help over his radio and nearly an hour later an ambulance arrived. It took Dwight's uncle, the Texas Ranger and the two ambulance attendants nearly an hour to free the kid's leg from under the car. It took another 45 minutes to get the boy to a hospital. By the time they reached the emergency room it was doubtful that Dwight's leg could be saved. However, if this wasn't enough, there was another problem. This was post World War II Texas and Hawkins was black.
When the ambulance arrived at the hospital the head nurse in charge told the driver that the facility did not take black patients. She told him the boy would have to be transferred to another hospital nearly an hour away. "But the kid is going to lose his leg!" the driver protested. The nurse said she did not make the rules and the boy would have to be taken elsewhere.
About this time a doctor walks into the emergency receiving area to see what all the commotion was about. He took one look at the boy's leg and ordered the nurse, "Get him into an operating room NOW"! The nurse answered, "But doctor, we don't . . ." The doctor turned to the nurse and said, "Did you hear me? I said get that kid into an operating room or you won't have a job tomorrow"!
Had it not been for the human decency of the doctor, a seven-year-old would have lost his leg and very possibly his life early that morning in 1947. As it was, it would be touch and go regarding saving the leg and the doctor told Dwight's mother that the boy would spend the rest of his life on crutches.
When the family arrived in California they settled in East Los Angeles, a predominately Mexican-American community, but at the time, still had an ethnic mix including blacks, whites and Asians. Dwight's mother immediately found a job across town in a hospital. To get back and forth from work she'd have to ride the bus for more than three hours everyday.
Dwight was left in the care of his grandmother while his mother worked. After school, the boy would sit on the curb with his leg in a brace watching the neighborhood kids play baseball, football or what ever other sports they were involved with. This would be tough on any kid, but for one as athletic as young Dwight had been, it was heartbreaking.
Dwight would toss his crutches aside and try to play anyway. Hawkins could still run but it was painful to do so. However, it beat sitting on the sidelines and watching the other kids have all the fun. If his mother had found out about this he'd have been in big trouble. But sometimes a kid just has to do what he has to do, regardless of the risk.
One day, Dwight's friend Armando told him that a boxing ring and punching bags had been set up in the basement of a local church and that boxing lesson's were going to be offered to neighborhood kids. "Why don't you come down and watch us box"? the boy offered.
Dwight's mind began to race and it occurred to him that boxing didn't require kicking and he believed that he might be able to give it a try. However, he knew that nobody was going to let a crippled kid try out for boxing. One afternoon, Hawkins followed Armando and the others boys to the basement gym. Before entering Dwight tossed his crutches under a bush and pulled his pant leg down to make sure his brace was covered. He made the other boys swear not to tell the coach about his leg and the boys agreed to keep their friend's secret.
Hawkins found the boxing coach to be a tall, well built former boxer who'd spent twenty years as a Sargent in the Marine Corps. The man was stern but fair and took a liking to Dwight. Hawkins was smaller than the other kids and worked twice as hard as the rest. He also proved himself to have a natural talent and in no time was outfighting the other boys, even the bigger ones. Dwight was able to hide the leg from the coach until it was time for the boys to compete in a kids boxing program. The boy's on the church team would all have to wear boxing trunks.
To keep his secret from the coach, Hawkins removed the brace and tossed it under the bush with his crutches. He then took an elastic band and wrapped it around his knee for extra support. The coach was no fool and noticed the boy did not move with the same balance as the others. When the boys left the gym the coach quietly watched Hawkins walk down the street and saw the boy retrieve the brace and crutches.
The next day the coach called his tough little protege aside and looked him in the eyes. "Son, do you have something to tell me"? Dwight looked up and knew immediately that coach was on to him. The boy stammered, "Uh . . ". The coach had become like a father to Hawkins and Dwight idolized the man. The kid also loved boxing, a sport that he had found a way to excel in despite his injury. Suddenly, it hit the boy that what had become so important to him was about to evaporate. Tears filled Dwight's eyes and the big man kneeled down and put his arms around gutty little kid. "Why don't you just tell me about it and we'll see what we can do".
Dwight poured out his heart and the coach understood how important it was to the boy to be a part of the boxing team. He also understood how a mother would fear for the safety of the boys leg. The coach met with Dwight's mother and together he and Dwight told her about her son's secret after school activity. Dwight was a good student in school and had never caused his mother a days worry. Dwight's mother reluctantly agreed to let her son box and the coach promised her that he would not allow the boy to continue if the activity was hurting the leg.
With both his mother and Coach supporting his boxing, Dwight Hawkins felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. Almost immediately, young Dwight not only became the best junior amateur boxer on his team, but one of the best in the City of Los Angeles.
A couple of years later, Mrs. Hawkins decided that it would be best to move across town closer to the hospital where she worked. The long bus rides were not only difficult but prevented her from spending time with her son. The Hawkins family left East L.A. and moved into the Imperial Courts Housing Project in Watts. Imperial Courts was, and is today, one of the most violent and dangerous projects in the country.
It was lucky for Dwight that he had established himself in amateur boxing at the time because it gave him the strength and reputation necessary to withstand pressure from the other kids in the project to join their gang. It wasn't easy, but nothing in the life of Dwight Hawkins was easy. If it was easy then anybody could do it. And "The Hawk" isn't just anybody.
It was at Imperial Courts that Hawkins learned first hand the problems of inner city youth, he lived it. At night, he would lay in his bed and hear the sound of gunshot's ringing through Imperial Courts. He saw countless neighbor's harassed by police or sent to jail for behavior that he knew was senseless. Violent death was also a way of life in the projects.
By the age fifteen, Hawkins had another problem. He was just too good for amateur boxers and nobody wanted to fight him. His coach, the big Marine who had been like a father to him knew that his protege was good enough to beat professional boxers because Dwight was doing it every day in the gym. Another problem was money, Dwight wanted to contribute financially so as his mother would not have to work so hard. He wanted to make it possible for his family to move out of the projects and professional boxing might be the answer.
It was at this point that Hawkins' coach contacted Johnny Flores. Flores was known as "Mr. Golden Gloves" in Los Angeles for his work with amateur boxers and was also a manager & trainer for some successful professionals. Flores knew all about Hawkins and believed that the fifteen-year-old was already good enough to fight in the pros. Along with Hawkins' amateur coach, Flores and his partner Hal Benson helped Hawkins secure a phony birth certificate which enabled him to get a professional boxing license.
Dwight Hawkins was only fifteen and a sophomore at Manual Arts High School in South Central L.A. when he made his professional boxing debut. Flores and Benson chose to take Hawkins out of Los Angeles for his first pro fight. They wanted their young fighter to have a little experience before he was seen in a fight Mecca such as L.A.
Johnny Flores took Hawkins to San Diego for his pro debut on May 14, 1956. In his first pro bout, Dwight Hawkins knocked out Rudy Cisneros in the first round. Two weeks later he returned to San Diego where he KO'ed Chuck Palomeros in two. It was now time to unveil the "The Hawk" in his hometown, the City of Angels.
The problem was that most of the prelim bantamweights in L.A. knew all about Hawkins. Dwight was a devastating body puncher with an awkward style and he'd already hurt a number of local fighters in the gym. In order to get a match Flores had to agree to let Hawkins face Tom Turner, and experienced veteran. Hawkins KO'ed Turner in four rounds. A month later, Dwight was matched with winning main eventer named Al Wilcher and this was a dangerous match because Wilcher had beaten the best of local talent and was not to be taken lightly. The bout was scheduled for ten rounds at the Olympic Auditorium. In the sixth round, Hawkins caught Wilcher with a brutal left hook to the liver, sending the veteran to the canvas where he was counted out. The Olympic crowd included several of Dwight's teachers at Manual Arts High as well as a couple of dozen of his classmates.
There were no local boxers willing to take on the hard punching teenager so Flores took "The Hawk" down to Tijuana, Mexico. Before a sell out crowd he scored a unanimous ten round decision over Joel Sanchez in the Tijuana bull ring. Dwight was 5-0 (4 KO's) when he began his junior year in high school.
Hawkins returned to L.A. and took on a tough veteran named Babe Antunez at the Hollywood Legion Stadium. Antunez was awarded a highly disputed decision over Hawkins and the fans demanded a rematch. Exactly one week later, Hawkins beat Antunez by decision in the same ring.
It was becoming becoming more difficult to find established main eventers willing to fight Hawkins. Flores agreed to match Hawkins with Fuji Rodriguez, a tough Japanese-Mexican fighter whom had been rated among the top ten bantamweights in the world. Hawkins dropped Rodriguez early in the fight but was cut by a head butt in the fourth round. After six rounds the referee was forced to stop the fight due to the cut.
Two months later, Hawkins returned with a first round KO over Leo Carter at the Olympic. A couple of weeks after KOing Carter, Hawkins was matched with world rated Herman Duncan at the Olympic. The scar tissue from the cut suffered in the Rodriguez fight two months earlier was still fresh and ripped open from a grazing left hook in the opening round. After six rounds referee Tommy Hart was forced to stop the bout. Despite Hawkins leading on all score cards, "The Hawk" suffered the second loss of his young career.
After winning his next three fights, two by knockout, Hawkins fought top rated Kid Irapuato in the Tijuana Bull ring. Hawkins beat Irapuato badly in a one-sided match, but after ten rounds the hometown judges awarded the fight to the Mexican . The loss was discouraging to Hawkins who had just turned seventeen and was proving himself as good as the top bantamweights in the world. He knew that winning wasn't enough, he'd have take the decision out of the judges hands or he was never going to make it. On November 6, 1957, that's exactly what Dwight Hawkins would do.
Alphonse Halimi was the Bantamweight Champion of the World and would defend his title against Raul "Raton" Macias at the Los Angeles Sports Arena. Mexico's Jose Becerra, the number one contender, would be next in line for a shot at the title.
It was decided that Becerra should be featured on the undercard of the title match to build interest in his impending shot at the crown. Becerra was an exceptional fighter and considered by many to be the best 118 pounder on the planet. The 22-year-old from Guadalajara, Mexico had been fighting professionally for nearly five years and had a record of 48-3-1 (24 KO's). He had beaten Jose Medel twice, KO'ed Kid Irapuato as well as Manuel Armenteros, all world class bantams.
It would be impossible to overmatch Becerra, but finding anybody willing to take on the future world champ on the Halimi-Macias undercard was not easy. Former champ Mario D'Agata pulled out at the last minute, as well as two other substitutes. Just two days before the fight the frantic matchmaker came up with an opponent. Dwight "The Hawk" Hawkins would take the fight. Hawkins wasn't world rated but he'd done well in matches with Herman Duncan and Kid Irapuato and the Los Angeles fans loved "The Hawk".
As mentioned earlier in this story, Dwight Hawkins shocked the world by upsetting Becerra. Jose Becerra was knocked unconscious in the fourth round by the 17-year-old Manuel Arts High School senior with only a dozen pro fights under his belt.. This ruined Becerra's chance to challenge Halimi, the winner over Macias, in his next title defense. It would be more than a year later before he'd finally face the champ from Algeria in the ring and win the title.
Suddenly Hawkins name became well known among the world's best bantamweights. However, it was also a name to be feared. "What benefit is there to fighting Dwight Hawkins?", was the question concerned managers asked themselves. "Hell, even if you find a way to beat the guy what does your fighter gain? Broken ribs? A victory over a teenager"? Hawkins was one to avoid, boxing is tough enough without throwing the name Dwight Hawkins into the equation.
Three weeks after defeating Becerra, Hawkins went to Mexicali where he faced Felix Cervantes, whom he'd knocked out two months previous in Tijuana. Hawkins had his way with Cervantes but this time the bout went the distance. When Hawkins failed to KO the Mexican he feared he'd have little chance of winning a decision below the border. He was right, The Mexicali judges awarded the match to Cervantes despite the fighter being dropped three times during the fight. Less than two weeks later he took on Kid Anahuac, who was a top ten rated featherweight. After ten bloody rounds the larger Mexican fighter was awarded a close split-decision over Hawkins.
Three months after the loss to Anahuac, Hawkins & Flores traveled back down below the border to Guadalajara to face Jose Becerra in a rematch. Becerra's loss to Hawkins had cost him a title shot with Halimi and it was important that he avenge the loss. To insure this, the match would be held in Mexico. Why Flores' agreed to let Hawkins fight Becerra in Guadalajara (Becerra's hometown) defies common sense. While training in Guadalajara Flores paid a Mexican assistant to bring bottled water to Hawkins to assure the fighter not be poisoned by the Mexican tap water. One day after drinking the water Hawkins became violently ill. Flores called for the assistant to get more water and then followed the man after he left the room. Flores witnessed the Mexican taking the bottle and filling it with water directly from the tap. It was now understood what was wrong with Hawkins. He had Montezuma's revenge. He had been poisoned by the water.
The following day Hawkins, still ailing, entered the ring against Becerra and was stopped in the ninth round.
A few weeks after losing to Becerra Hawkins was matched against another talented L.A. contender named Auburn Copeland. Copeland was the California Bantam king and agreed to fight Hawkins in a ten rounder, but would not risk his state title. Hawkins easily beat Copeland over ten rounds. The following month, he took on another top Mexican bantam Nacho Escalante in San Bernardino and won a unanimous decision.
Nine days after Hawkins beat Escalante, he fought one of the best bantamweights to never win a world title, Jose Medel. The fight was held in Mexico City and Medel stopped the seventeen-year-old two weeks after his high school graduation. Hawkins was disappointed but not discouraged and within a month was back in the ring against world rated Herman Marques at the Olympic. After a ten round war the bout was declared a draw.
Hawkins would win his next seven, four by KO, with victories over world rated featherweight Danny Valdez, Noel Humphries and a KO over Nacho Escalante in a rematch.
It was about this time that an 18-year-old Dwight Hawkins would meet and befriend somebody that would become a very important influence in his life. His name was Davey Moore.
Davey Moore was 25-years-old when he came to Los Angeles to challenge Hogan "Kid" Bassey for the World Featherweight championship in 1959. Style-wise, Moore and Bassey were similar in the ring. Both were strong, punishing fighters with knockout power in both hands. Moore needed sparring partners who would fight him hard in the gym, just as Bassey would fight defending his title. Veteran trainer & gym owner Jake Shagrue told Moore's manager Willie Ketchum that there was only one fighter in Los Angeles capable of filling the bill and that was Dwight Hawkins.
Hawkins was hired as a sparring partner for Moore and the two immediately became friends. Hawkins thought the world of the number one contender from Springfield, Ohio and the two would spend hours talking after finishing their workouts at Moore's training camp in Hemet, California. Moore was like an older brother to Hawkins and would warn the young fighter about the pitfalls of professional boxing. However, by the age of eighteen, Hawkins had already experienced the worst boxing could offer.
One of things that Moore stressed to Hawkins was the importance of family. Davey had six children back home in Springfield and every night would call his wife to check on her and tell her how things were going.
A few weeks later, Davey Moore would knock out Hogan "Kid" Bassey and win the world featherweight title. During the next four years that Moore would hold the title he and Hawkins would remain close.
After Moore won the title Hawkins found it impossible to get fights in Los Angeles and would have to move up to the featherweight division in order to get any fights at all. Many of Hawkins recent fights had already been against featherweights despite Dwight barely tipping the beam at 120 pounds.
In his next fight he would fly to Glasgow, Scotland and lose a disputed decision to Billy Rafferty. Six months later he took on top rated Nelson Estrada in the fighter's hometown of Caracas, Venezuela. Another close fight and another loss to a hometown hero. It was 1960 and 19-yearold Dwight Hawkins was tired of fighting his heart out and not getting any closer to a shot at the title. He announced his retirement from boxing and focused his energy on his true passion, working with kids.
For the next two years Hawkins became involved with the youth of South Central Los Angeles. He organized boxing programs at Imperial Courts as an alternative to gang involvement and the kids loved Hawkins. "The Hawk" spoke their language and had risen of above the desperation of the housing project and made a name for himself. Hawkins drove a nice car, wore nice clothes and spoke about how it WAS possible to make it out of the ghetto and make a difference in the world. Hawkins programs were quite successful and he was making an impression on the youth of Imperial Courts. Violent crimes committed by gang members in the project dropped to an all-time low and Hawkins influence was credited with the change.
The faculty of Manual Arts High School, Hawkins' alma mater, were well aware of Hawkins' program and the good he was doing at Imperial Courts. The High School principal set up a meeting with L.A. City School officials and Hawkins was invited to share his knowledge of Inner-city problems and make suggestions. So impressed were the board members that they hired Hawkins to work for the Los Angeles City School System as a "trouble shooter". Hawkins' new role would be to act as a liaison between gangs and the school system. They could not have made a better choice. It would be a position that Hawkins would fill right up to present day.
After two years away from boxing, Hawkins felt as if he still had something to do in the ring. After a couple of years the younger kids were no longer aware of who Hawkins was and he realized that the exposure afforded him during his boxing career was the foundation of his success in working with kids. Only 22-years-old and anxious to take care of unfinished business, Dwight Hawkins returned to boxing on October 15, 1962.
The Hollywood Legion Stadium was packed for Hawkins return and "The Hawk" scored a fourth round knockout over Manny Linson. After scoring two more victories Dwight would join his pal Davey Moore who was training for an upcoming title defense against Cuban Sugar Ramos. Hawkins would once again be Moore's chief sparring partner for the Ramos match.
While training for the Ramos fight, Moore and Hawkins would rise early in the morning and run the hills near the Moore's training camp in Hemet. On the final day of road work, Moore and Hawkins raced to the top of a mountain and after reaching the top sat together and talked while catching their breath. Hawkins idolized the featherweight champ and Moore was in a reflective mood. Moore told Hawkins about his childhood in Springfield Ohio and how happy he was that he could provide for a better life for his family than what he had as a child. He told Dwight that he would fight about another year or so and then retire. "Too much time away from the family" Moore said.
On March 21, 1963 Dwight Hawkins was at Dodger Stadium to watch his friend defend the featherweight title. That night Moore would not only lose his title to Ramos, but he would also lose his life. When Ramos knocked out Moore, Davey hit the back of his head on the lower strand of the ring ropes. Moore passed into a coma in the dressing room following the match and a couple of days later died in the hospital having never regained consciousness. Hawkins was devastated.
The loss of Davey Moore hurt Dwight Hawkins and took his mind off his own career. A few weeks later Hawkins would head back down to Mexico where he would take on another unbeaten future champ in Vicente Saldivar. Hawkins was stopped by the brilliant southpaw in the fifth round.
The loss of Moore and losing to Saldivar would prove a turning point in the life and career of Dwight Hawkins.
About a year later I would meet Dwight. "The Hawk" would rise above the pain once again and I would witness first hand one of the most amazing fighters to ever step into the ring.
(End- Part 1)
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