"Pedro" . . .

By Rick Farris

It was 1967 when Johnnie Flores took his top ranked featherweight contender, Dwight "The Hawk" Hawkins, down to Tampico, Mexico to face Mexican Featherweight champ, Aurielo Muniz, in a ten rounder. Hawkins would flatten Muniz in seven rounds, out cold. However, as so often is the case in Mexico (i.e. Napoles-Muniz I), the American fighter got screwed.

The officials declared that Flores cost his fighter the KO win by stepping up onto the ring canvas before the count of ten was completed. Hawkins was disqualified. After Flores protested the verdict, the bout was declared a 10rd. draw. Go figure?

While in Mexico, Hawkins used a 18-year-old sparring partner named, Pedro Rodriguez. When they returned to L.A., Pedro came with them and Hawkins' co-manager, Hal Benson, put the kid to work at the Disabled American Veterans shop in Glendale. He also gave the kid a place to live. Although just a young man, Pedro had been fighting pro since the age of fourteen and was a good fighter. He would also prove a reliable spasrring partner for the brutal punching Hawkins. When the two would square off at the Main street Gym, Pedro would wear a foam padded ski vest to protect his body from Hawkins brutal attack to the stomach and ribs.

I would get to know Pedro very well, and even would box with him at Johnnie's back yard gym in Pacoima. At the time, he hadn't yet learned English, but would communicate with my grandfather who spoke fairly fluent Spanish. My grandad would invite him to our home in Burbank for dinner on a couple of weekend occasions, and my Grandmother loved him like a grandson. We became friends, and he'd show me a few things about body punching.

About a month after arriving, he'd be matched with future bantamweight champ, Rafael Herrera, in a ten round main-event at the Olympic. Pedro fought the tough, top ranked bantam contender close in the early rounds, and gave Herrera all he could handle before dropping a decision.

A month later he would travel to San Franciso to fight another up and coming bantam in Filippino Rollie Penaroya of Stockton. Again losing a close, exciting fight, according to Johnnie. The following month, he'd headline once agagin at the Olympic, and this time fight on dead even terms with future featherweight title challenger, Jose Pimentel, twin of bantam contender Jesus.

My dad, grandfather and I were ringside for this one. Pedro whipped Pimentel and was robbed, losing a majority decision. Judge George Latka had it 5-5, a draw. The Olympic crowd showered the ring with cups of beer and booed for five minutes.

Pedro would continue to prove a hard fighting stepping stone to a number of top contenders and future world champs, In 1969, he'd travel to Osaka, Japan and take on featherweight champ, Shozo Saijyo in a non-title bout, losing a decision to the champ in a close one, according to Flores and Benson. He was then off to Caracus, Venezuela to take on another future featherweight champ, the late Cruz Marcano, once again losing after putting up a game performance.

By this time Pete was speaking English fluently and had married a lady he had met in Glendale. I was growing into a bantam myself and was now able to give him stiff competition in gym workouts. I remember after our last workout looking into his dark eyes. He looked tired. His eyebrows were now laced with scar tissue, his nose flattened, he was starting to look like an old fighter, however his voice was still young and his boyish smile still in tact. He was barely 21.

He pulled me aside and in perfect English pointed out something about my defense. As always, after each workout, he would turn coach. It was great that we could now communicate better. In the beginning, our conversation hinged on my broken Spanish, now he spoke perfect English. During those years since Johnny brought him to L.A. he continued to work regularly with Hawkins, right up to the time "The Hawk" retired in '69. That in itself would ruin any fighter. He'd also go on the road, fighting the best in their hometowns, places like Honolulu, Oakland, San Bernardino, San Antonio, San Jose and his very last stop, San Diego.

In S.D., he'd end his career in a place I have come to call "The Graveyard" for L.A. fighters, the Coliseum. He took some time off when his wife had a baby, and had found a good job in a machine shop off San Fernando Road near Lincoln Heights. I didn't see him for months until one day he showed up at the Main Street Gym, shortly before I made my pro debut. His hand was in a cast. I immediatly went over to Pedro to say "hello" and asked about his hand.

"It got stuck in a piece of machinery at work, and I lost a thumb and a finger", he said. "Now I'll be a trainer." There was no sign of sadness or self pity over the crippling, career ending accident. Another baby was on the way. The smile was still ever present.

My grandfather had passed two years previous, and Pedro had joined Johnnie Flores at the funeral. My grandmother cried when I told her of Pedro's accident. "That poor boy. Please tell him he and his family are welcome for dinner. Grandpa loved him." Flores put Pedro in charge of working with me for a couple of weeks, but then he just disappeared. To my knowledge, he never returned to the gym.

I have a feeling things turned out OK for Pedro and his family. This man was a survivor, and always had that smile on his face. However, I never saw any of his opponents smiling after they fought him.

While reflecting on days gone by, the thought of Pedro brought a smile to my face. Yeah, he's doing all right. I'd bet on it!