By Rick Farris
Reading Hap Navarro's childhood memories of waiting by the entrance to the Olympic dressing room as a kid, brought back a flood of my own personal memories hanging out in the same place. A few decades may have seperated our experience, but my interest and excitment was likely on the same level as the future California Boxing Hall of Famer.
In the mid-60's, we entered the back door closer to the dressing rooms on the West side of the building. This was the door most of the boxers choose to enter the arena for as it was right of the parking lot and closest to the dressing area.
I was never permitted to enter the dressing room, but I made sure I was there before the first prelim boys made their exit to the ring.
There were actually two entrances to the dressing room area, both were seperated by a stairway that led up to the main arena. One of the extrances was blocked off by thick gate and a cover. The other was open, but was guarded by an Los Angeles Policeman whom I would come to know as "Norm".
I was about twelve when Norm first saw my face as I leaned against the wall, having positioned myself to be right where the fighters woud brush right past me as they left the dressing room, or returned after their match.
I would was barely inches from my idols, Jerry Quarry, Mando Ramos, Dwight Hawkins, and some of the world class out-of-towners who would invade L.A. and attempt to end the dreams of our L.A. Superstars.
I remember being by that dressing room door within moments of Jerry Quarry's first pro loss to Eddie Machen, after "Irish" Frankie Crawford scored a huge upset of the upcoming future lightweight champ, Mando Ramos. I remember congratulting Ernie "Indian" Red Lopez KOed Hedgeman Lewis. Sonny Liston brushed pass me after flattening Al Jones. These are just a few incidents. There were many, many more and I soon became a recognizable face to the dressing room guard, "Norm the Cop."
Eventually Norm and I would exchange some talk and I told him my goal was to a pro fighter and one day.
Several years later, I backed up my words and as I entered the Olympic dressing room to dress for my first pro fight, the first face I saw was Norm.
He grabbed me by the arm and pointed to a couple small boys standing by the dressing room entrance holding pen & paper, for autographs.
"Do you remember that kid?" he asked.
I told him I didn't recognize the boy.
"That was you five years ago. You got your wish kid, good luck tonight."
My next nine fights would be held at the Olympic, and Norm was there for each one.
After that, fought primarily for Parnassus, Don Fraser or Mickey Davies. I didn't see Norm the Cop again for several years.
My boxing career was finished after a few years and I went to work as a motion picture lighting technician.
In the later 80's, I'm working on a Michael Jackson music video, "Thriller".
We are shooting in downtown L.A. all night long for a couple of weeks, right off of Union Pacific Ave.not far from the old Teamsters Gym.
After we finish lighting the set, Michael Jackson is brought from his motor home dressing room to rehearse the first shot with actress Ola Ray.
Jackson has very tight security and is usually escorted to and from the set by two off-duty LAPD officers.
Jackson's security consultant was in plain clothes, as were the officers. It took me about two seconds to recognize "Norm the Cop", in plain clothes leading Jackson and the other two officers to the set.
In the two Michael Jackson features I worked on, Thriller and Moonwalker, Norm the Cop was right be his side every moment he was off-camera.
I know that Norm did some work for the California State Athletic Commission for a time.
During the shots when Norm and I could speak, we shared a few good memories about the good old days at 18th & Grand.
Hap's story about the Olympic dressing room brought this one to mine.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Two Mules and a Television . . .
By Rick Farris
With all the cable TV stations available, and an absence of true quality apparent in many of today's television productions, I rarely look at the flatscreen unless it's a sporting event, or special DVD.
My wife watches the educational shows, Discovery Channel, National Geographic, etc.
Monica is into science, health, languages and art & culture.
I just passed her watching TV and noticed two mules on the screen.
They are being led onto a horse racing track.
I ask her what's going on?
She tells me that they were about to show the first ever race between two cloned mules.
This is on an educational show? A race between two man-made jack asses!
Kind of reminds me of something we'd try when we were kids. Matching a rat with a hampster in a race.
The moment you let go of the rat and hampster, they don't race, they run in opposite directions.
The point is, matching a rat and hampster made sense to me when I was ten. I had nothing better to do.
I think the guy who decided to match the two genetically-created mules had nothing better to do. If he were ten, I'd understand.
I just asked Monica, "Did you watch the cloned mule race?"
She said she turned the TV off. I was happy she had something better to do.
Ozzie & Harriet are rolling over in their graves. So are Lucy & Desi.
We used to have fun making TV, back when there was a system, not confusion.
TV had it's innovators and there has not been creative growth to equal that of technological improvement.
The science is improving, the art gets thinner every year.
They do well with technology today, but somewhere the humanity is lost. When we lose this in visuals, we compromise the art.
TV has become like one of those genetic mules. It can walk and breath, but it is a fabrication.
Something is missing.
With all the cable TV stations available, and an absence of true quality apparent in many of today's television productions, I rarely look at the flatscreen unless it's a sporting event, or special DVD.
My wife watches the educational shows, Discovery Channel, National Geographic, etc.
Monica is into science, health, languages and art & culture.
I just passed her watching TV and noticed two mules on the screen.
They are being led onto a horse racing track.
I ask her what's going on?
She tells me that they were about to show the first ever race between two cloned mules.
This is on an educational show? A race between two man-made jack asses!
Kind of reminds me of something we'd try when we were kids. Matching a rat with a hampster in a race.
The moment you let go of the rat and hampster, they don't race, they run in opposite directions.
The point is, matching a rat and hampster made sense to me when I was ten. I had nothing better to do.
I think the guy who decided to match the two genetically-created mules had nothing better to do. If he were ten, I'd understand.
I just asked Monica, "Did you watch the cloned mule race?"
She said she turned the TV off. I was happy she had something better to do.
Ozzie & Harriet are rolling over in their graves. So are Lucy & Desi.
We used to have fun making TV, back when there was a system, not confusion.
TV had it's innovators and there has not been creative growth to equal that of technological improvement.
The science is improving, the art gets thinner every year.
They do well with technology today, but somewhere the humanity is lost. When we lose this in visuals, we compromise the art.
TV has become like one of those genetic mules. It can walk and breath, but it is a fabrication.
Something is missing.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
I am a Hollywood Legion guy for all time
But here is my bit on the great Olympic Auditorium
By Hap Navarro
I was born about three blocks from where they built the Olympic and I lived for a bit near Washington and Grand, where I sold the Evening Express paper for a few pennies at that intersection. The old Polytechnc High School, which I attended later for a semester, was right there, too.
My first visit to the Olympic dressing rooms was by accident on an mateur fight night. A fine trainer, Billy East, saw me standing rather forlorn at the dressing room entrance, and for some reason (fate) handed me a cardboard box containg, gloves and other light equipment, and told me to follow him into the building.......Lord's truth, fellas, that was my start in the game.
I then found a seat and enjoyed the bouts courtesy of that kindly fellow.
After that I hung around that back door entrance on pro nights but all i got once was my hair touseled by a great matchmaker, Joe Waterman, who also noticed my zeal at the sight of the boxers arrival. When the bouts began I would run home and catch the main event on radio, then return to the club's back door and catch a glimpse of the star boxers as they left the building. I never dreamed I would ever become a part of the game, let alone a matchmaker. C'est la vie!
By Hap Navarro
I was born about three blocks from where they built the Olympic and I lived for a bit near Washington and Grand, where I sold the Evening Express paper for a few pennies at that intersection. The old Polytechnc High School, which I attended later for a semester, was right there, too.
My first visit to the Olympic dressing rooms was by accident on an mateur fight night. A fine trainer, Billy East, saw me standing rather forlorn at the dressing room entrance, and for some reason (fate) handed me a cardboard box containg, gloves and other light equipment, and told me to follow him into the building.......Lord's truth, fellas, that was my start in the game.
I then found a seat and enjoyed the bouts courtesy of that kindly fellow.
After that I hung around that back door entrance on pro nights but all i got once was my hair touseled by a great matchmaker, Joe Waterman, who also noticed my zeal at the sight of the boxers arrival. When the bouts began I would run home and catch the main event on radio, then return to the club's back door and catch a glimpse of the star boxers as they left the building. I never dreamed I would ever become a part of the game, let alone a matchmaker. C'est la vie!
18th & Grand . . .
By Rick Farris
The first time I laid eyes on the building was in the 50's.
I was probably four or five-years-old, but I remember what I saw, and I knew what it was.
It was a prizefighter. A huge mural of a boxer that adorned the outside wall of the Olympic Auditorium.
We were just driving by, I was with my parents.
I came to believe that the boxing we watched on friday nights came from that buildling, but I was wrong.
The fights I remembered came from back east, and around the country.
However, that building spelled boxing to me. Just look on the wall when you pass by on the 10 Freeway.
Of course, that mural was peeled off nearly twenty years ago when Jack Needleman bought the building and renamed it the "Grand Olympic Auditorium".
Nobody needed to tell guys like Frank and I that the Olympic was Grand. The old broad must have laughed herself, at the irony.
Jack Dempsey himself was there when the ground was broken. He was heavyweight champ at the time.
She was around when there was competition in town. There was once a place called the Hollywood Legion Stadium just down the road.
When Needleman took over, he thought the place needed a face lift to rejuvenate it.
What it needed was a promoter.
Without an Eaton, Parnassus, Working, Navarro, etc. and their brilliant ring attractions, the place was destined to fail.
Now we have Indian Reservations, and Vegas. We have MMA and PPV, and women's boxing.
Thank God for YouTube and DVD's. The only place where you can find evidence of talent.
Today, you have to look backwards, or just forget about it.
The first time I laid eyes on the building was in the 50's.
I was probably four or five-years-old, but I remember what I saw, and I knew what it was.
It was a prizefighter. A huge mural of a boxer that adorned the outside wall of the Olympic Auditorium.
We were just driving by, I was with my parents.
I came to believe that the boxing we watched on friday nights came from that buildling, but I was wrong.
The fights I remembered came from back east, and around the country.
However, that building spelled boxing to me. Just look on the wall when you pass by on the 10 Freeway.
Of course, that mural was peeled off nearly twenty years ago when Jack Needleman bought the building and renamed it the "Grand Olympic Auditorium".
Nobody needed to tell guys like Frank and I that the Olympic was Grand. The old broad must have laughed herself, at the irony.
Jack Dempsey himself was there when the ground was broken. He was heavyweight champ at the time.
She was around when there was competition in town. There was once a place called the Hollywood Legion Stadium just down the road.
When Needleman took over, he thought the place needed a face lift to rejuvenate it.
What it needed was a promoter.
Without an Eaton, Parnassus, Working, Navarro, etc. and their brilliant ring attractions, the place was destined to fail.
Now we have Indian Reservations, and Vegas. We have MMA and PPV, and women's boxing.
Thank God for YouTube and DVD's. The only place where you can find evidence of talent.
Today, you have to look backwards, or just forget about it.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Dadro Marino, Davey Gallardo & Gil Cadilli..."Galthering of Angels" Don Hotel..1968
Dado Marino, Flyweight Champion-1950-51, Davey Gallardo, world ranked featherweight contender-1950's and
Gil Cadilli, world ranked featherweight contender 1950's.
Davey Gallardo will be inducted into the california Boxing Hall of Fame on September 26, 2009.
THE SWITCH
By Roger Esty
Heard this one today from my friend Pat who used to be real close to Moyer and Ronnie Wilson when those two were still trying to represent themselves as contenders in the ring.
Sid Flaherty was handling the two, along Johnny Rodriguez who was Sid's trainer. Flaherty opened up a camp in the foothills outside San Diego.Within the boxing camp was a kennel that housed Sid's malmutes. From what I saw and what my pal Pat has related,I think Sid was closer to man's best friend more than his stable of fighters. Just trying to deal with Moyer and Wilson was enough to make a guy eat dog food.
I'm going to have to bend Pat's ear more about those two Irishmen. Wilson was rooming with Pat when Ronnie was getting the "heave ho" out the door from his wife for various miscodes of conduct of being a proper husband.
Moyer was brought down to San Diego to help Ronnie out being a fighter,but they both liked drinking more than fighting by that time,so all they did was help each other buy drinks for the saloon patronizing.
Training at Flaherty's camp in the foothills were a group of Mexican fighters.Pat told me they never spoke English. With Rodriguez working them, the language stayed Spanish. Moyer and Wilson,according to Pat,would get sore about hearing words that were either "feminine" or "masculine." Sometimes they thought the Mexican boys were taliking about them and didn't want them to "comprende." After a night of drinking,the Irish gladiators were really on the defense about their talk.
Pat told me one day before an afternoon training session,Moyer had had enough about not understanding a word of what was going on. One of the Mexicans he was going to spar with that day was a "hombre" Moyer never took a liking to. Before going into the ring for a workout,Moyer told Pat that he was going to piss into the guy's water bottle. And he did.
Well the sparring was going on like usual and Moyer was grinnin' ear to ear every time the Mexican was slurpping down his water. After the sparring was done for the day,Moyer saw Pat in the locker room and was laughing about how the Mexican got more than H2O in his drink.
Just then Johnny Rodriguez walked in. Rodriguez walked over to Moyer and said the Mexican fighter wanted to switch water bottles before the sparring session. Rodriguez said he just shrugged his shoulders and switched the bottles.It was Denny who was drinking "lemonade".
From what Pat told me Moyer wanted to kill the Mexican. I guess one of the other Mexican fighters saw what Denny had done and the switch was made.
The Mexican fighter who had pulled the double cross never came back to camp. It was probably for the best. I don't think Denny would heve asked him to give him Spanish lessons.
Heard this one today from my friend Pat who used to be real close to Moyer and Ronnie Wilson when those two were still trying to represent themselves as contenders in the ring.
Sid Flaherty was handling the two, along Johnny Rodriguez who was Sid's trainer. Flaherty opened up a camp in the foothills outside San Diego.Within the boxing camp was a kennel that housed Sid's malmutes. From what I saw and what my pal Pat has related,I think Sid was closer to man's best friend more than his stable of fighters. Just trying to deal with Moyer and Wilson was enough to make a guy eat dog food.
I'm going to have to bend Pat's ear more about those two Irishmen. Wilson was rooming with Pat when Ronnie was getting the "heave ho" out the door from his wife for various miscodes of conduct of being a proper husband.
Moyer was brought down to San Diego to help Ronnie out being a fighter,but they both liked drinking more than fighting by that time,so all they did was help each other buy drinks for the saloon patronizing.
Training at Flaherty's camp in the foothills were a group of Mexican fighters.Pat told me they never spoke English. With Rodriguez working them, the language stayed Spanish. Moyer and Wilson,according to Pat,would get sore about hearing words that were either "feminine" or "masculine." Sometimes they thought the Mexican boys were taliking about them and didn't want them to "comprende." After a night of drinking,the Irish gladiators were really on the defense about their talk.
Pat told me one day before an afternoon training session,Moyer had had enough about not understanding a word of what was going on. One of the Mexicans he was going to spar with that day was a "hombre" Moyer never took a liking to. Before going into the ring for a workout,Moyer told Pat that he was going to piss into the guy's water bottle. And he did.
Well the sparring was going on like usual and Moyer was grinnin' ear to ear every time the Mexican was slurpping down his water. After the sparring was done for the day,Moyer saw Pat in the locker room and was laughing about how the Mexican got more than H2O in his drink.
Just then Johnny Rodriguez walked in. Rodriguez walked over to Moyer and said the Mexican fighter wanted to switch water bottles before the sparring session. Rodriguez said he just shrugged his shoulders and switched the bottles.It was Denny who was drinking "lemonade".
From what Pat told me Moyer wanted to kill the Mexican. I guess one of the other Mexican fighters saw what Denny had done and the switch was made.
The Mexican fighter who had pulled the double cross never came back to camp. It was probably for the best. I don't think Denny would heve asked him to give him Spanish lessons.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Thursday, June 11, 2009
The Gil Cadilli Story - By Gil Cadilli Jr.
A great video and a fine tribute to his father Gil Cadilli by Gil Cadilli Jr.There is also some good footage of Gil Cadilli vs Keeny Teran at the Hollywood Legion Stadium, June 22, 1951.
If not For The Dope.....
If not for the dope, who knows how far Keeny would have gone in the boxing game, far I think, he could have been a champion in a tough era, times when a belt meant something.
I'm proud to have met and boxed with Keeny Teran at the Teamsters Gym.
I'm proud to have met and boxed with Keeny Teran at the Teamsters Gym.
Keeny Teran Bares Facts on Fight With Kid H.
Paul V. Coates -- Confidential File, June 10, 1959
Keeny Teran's back home.
The former boy wonder of boxing who went sour on narcotics is, at the age of 28, going to give life another try.
This week, he finished a three-year stretch at Soledad State Prison. The crime that sent him there -- peddling heroin -- was just one of the hundreds of stories that kept Keeny in the headlines here for a decade.
In his glorious, notorious life, boxing's most publicized bad boy was jailed for burglary and dope, crowned as California's and NorthAmerican's bantam weight champion, and credited, in 1952, for the most courageous comeback in the history of the ring.
Yesterday, Keeny Teran sat down with me only hours after he walked through the prison gates, to discuss the next chapter in his life.
And he admitted that it might be a pretty dull one, so far as newspaper headlines are concerned.
"I'm going to try to do things right," he told me. "When I was at Soledad, I didn't serve time. I made it serve me. I read everything I could get my hands on."
"What kind of books?" I asked.
"Well, like one on the life of Teddy Roosevelt. I really picked up on him."
In prison Keeny became editor of the paper. He also went to school for three and a half hours a days until he made up enough credits to get his high school diploma.
"On the outside I was always too busy with boxing," he explained, adding softly, "and other things."
"Other things" included a taste for marijuana at the age of 11 and a side career as an addict which started with his first fix of heroin the day before his 15th birthday.
With no trace of false pride or tough guy in his voice, Keeny talked about those days.
"Nobody forced me. Nobody offered it to me. I just took it," he said. "Dope is its own agent. I just thought it won't happen to me. I'mKeeny."
Just about all through my boxing career I was hooked," he added. "That's something most people don't realize."
In June of 1952, after 17 straight wins, the kid lost to Tommy Umeda. "Before that, I was just using mildly," he said. "But when I lost that fight, it broke my heart. I figured I was indestructible. I couldn't lose.
"After that is when I stated using heavy."
By the end of that year Keeny was back on top of the world. He'd reversed the Umeda decision and for five weeks "beaten" the habit long enough to have everybody in Hollywood begging to do his life story.
"I had everything to live for," he said. But his habit was bigger than he was. He fought some more, won some good fights, lost a few -- and all the time he was fooling the State Athletic Commission doctors.
"Say we'd weigh in at 12 o'clock. I'd take my fix at 1 o'clock. then I'd wait until after 8 o'clock examination at the arena to fix again. I'd spread them around all over my body. No tracks that way."
I asked Keeny if some more boxing might be in his future.
"Right now," he said, "I just don't know. I feel fine. I worked out all the time up there. I've never been in better shape.
"But who knows what the boxing commission is thinking of me now?"
Today's Today and That's for Me
"What I'd like to do," Keeny added, "is get a job in an office. I'd like to be sports writer, but I know I'm not ready. I learned a lot up there, but I still sweat blood getting one little column done.
"Another thing," the grown-up kid went on, "I'm no crusader. I'm not going to go around telling what a bad guy I was and how wrong I was. Right now I'm going to take each day one by one, and make it my job to take care ofKeeny."
I hope he does a helluva good job.
Keeny Teran's back home.
The former boy wonder of boxing who went sour on narcotics is, at the age of 28, going to give life another try.
This week, he finished a three-year stretch at Soledad State Prison. The crime that sent him there -- peddling heroin -- was just one of the hundreds of stories that kept Keeny in the headlines here for a decade.
In his glorious, notorious life, boxing's most publicized bad boy was jailed for burglary and dope, crowned as California's and NorthAmerican's bantam weight champion, and credited, in 1952, for the most courageous comeback in the history of the ring.
Yesterday, Keeny Teran sat down with me only hours after he walked through the prison gates, to discuss the next chapter in his life.
And he admitted that it might be a pretty dull one, so far as newspaper headlines are concerned.
"I'm going to try to do things right," he told me. "When I was at Soledad, I didn't serve time. I made it serve me. I read everything I could get my hands on."
"What kind of books?" I asked.
"Well, like one on the life of Teddy Roosevelt. I really picked up on him."
In prison Keeny became editor of the paper. He also went to school for three and a half hours a days until he made up enough credits to get his high school diploma.
"On the outside I was always too busy with boxing," he explained, adding softly, "and other things."
"Other things" included a taste for marijuana at the age of 11 and a side career as an addict which started with his first fix of heroin the day before his 15th birthday.
With no trace of false pride or tough guy in his voice, Keeny talked about those days.
"Nobody forced me. Nobody offered it to me. I just took it," he said. "Dope is its own agent. I just thought it won't happen to me. I'mKeeny."
Just about all through my boxing career I was hooked," he added. "That's something most people don't realize."
In June of 1952, after 17 straight wins, the kid lost to Tommy Umeda. "Before that, I was just using mildly," he said. "But when I lost that fight, it broke my heart. I figured I was indestructible. I couldn't lose.
"After that is when I stated using heavy."
By the end of that year Keeny was back on top of the world. He'd reversed the Umeda decision and for five weeks "beaten" the habit long enough to have everybody in Hollywood begging to do his life story.
"I had everything to live for," he said. But his habit was bigger than he was. He fought some more, won some good fights, lost a few -- and all the time he was fooling the State Athletic Commission doctors.
"Say we'd weigh in at 12 o'clock. I'd take my fix at 1 o'clock. then I'd wait until after 8 o'clock examination at the arena to fix again. I'd spread them around all over my body. No tracks that way."
I asked Keeny if some more boxing might be in his future.
"Right now," he said, "I just don't know. I feel fine. I worked out all the time up there. I've never been in better shape.
"But who knows what the boxing commission is thinking of me now?"
Today's Today and That's for Me
"What I'd like to do," Keeny added, "is get a job in an office. I'd like to be sports writer, but I know I'm not ready. I learned a lot up there, but I still sweat blood getting one little column done.
"Another thing," the grown-up kid went on, "I'm no crusader. I'm not going to go around telling what a bad guy I was and how wrong I was. Right now I'm going to take each day one by one, and make it my job to take care ofKeeny."
I hope he does a helluva good job.
Whoopie . . .
By Rick Farris
Just got a call from an old friend. Her name is Mandy Chamberlain.
For more than two decades Mandy has been Whoppie Goldberg's wardrobe designer.
Whenever Whoopie works, Mandy works, it's in the actress' contract. Same is true for hair stylist, Julia Walker.
Even when Whoopi made occasional appearances on the "Star Trek-Next Generation series", Mandy and Julia came in with the actress.
Whoopie takes care of her people. People who are loyal to each other, and friends.
I'd meet Mandy in 1993, when we both worked on Whoopie's film "Sister Act-2".
We worked long hours and the crew became close. You get to know people you spend 16 hours a day with.
It can be like a family, and Whoopie was everybody's "big sister". She is a very good person, kind and we all laughed a lot.
I once mentioned my daughters names to Whoopie one day after lunch, something about taking them horseback riding.
A week later my daughters, who were ages 9 & 7 at the time, visit the set.
After stepping off the set, Whoopie sees the girl's watching just off camera. She smiles and approaches them.
"Hello girls. You must be Kimberly & Kirsten?" I was impressed. So were my kids.
I asked Mandy how Whoopie was doing?
Mandy still works with Whoopie Goldberg when the entertainer does a film, awards show, stage, etc.
However, she declined an offer to move to N.Y. and work with Goldberg on "The View".
"I love Whoopie but the other women on the show are insane" she said.
I remember getting a call from Mandy back in the mid 90's, when she worked with Whoopie on her nightly TV talk show of the time.
The costume supervisor was excited about meeting her favorite rock guitarist, Carlos Santana.
Whoopie knew that Chamberlain liked Santana, and didn't tell her friend that Santana would be a guest star.
When the guitarist was introduced to the audience and took his seat next to Whoopie, she insisted that Mandy come out and meet him on camera.
"I was never more shocked in my life, and she pulls me right on stage," she told me. "It'll be on later tonight, if you get a chance watch it."
Later that night I caught Whoopie's talk show and saw Mandy called on stage to meet Carlos Santana.
The wardrobe supervisor was speechless, the musician amused, and Goldberg laughing hysterically at Mandy's red face.
It was good talking with Mandy again.
She's gearing up to fly to New York to help Whoopie with some sort of project.
"I saw your number in an old book and took a chance I'd reach you", she said. "We had some good times, didn't we?"
Yes, we did have some good times and worked with some great people. None better than Whoopie Goldberg.
Just got a call from an old friend. Her name is Mandy Chamberlain.
For more than two decades Mandy has been Whoppie Goldberg's wardrobe designer.
Whenever Whoopie works, Mandy works, it's in the actress' contract. Same is true for hair stylist, Julia Walker.
Even when Whoopi made occasional appearances on the "Star Trek-Next Generation series", Mandy and Julia came in with the actress.
Whoopie takes care of her people. People who are loyal to each other, and friends.
I'd meet Mandy in 1993, when we both worked on Whoopie's film "Sister Act-2".
We worked long hours and the crew became close. You get to know people you spend 16 hours a day with.
It can be like a family, and Whoopie was everybody's "big sister". She is a very good person, kind and we all laughed a lot.
I once mentioned my daughters names to Whoopie one day after lunch, something about taking them horseback riding.
A week later my daughters, who were ages 9 & 7 at the time, visit the set.
After stepping off the set, Whoopie sees the girl's watching just off camera. She smiles and approaches them.
"Hello girls. You must be Kimberly & Kirsten?" I was impressed. So were my kids.
I asked Mandy how Whoopie was doing?
Mandy still works with Whoopie Goldberg when the entertainer does a film, awards show, stage, etc.
However, she declined an offer to move to N.Y. and work with Goldberg on "The View".
"I love Whoopie but the other women on the show are insane" she said.
I remember getting a call from Mandy back in the mid 90's, when she worked with Whoopie on her nightly TV talk show of the time.
The costume supervisor was excited about meeting her favorite rock guitarist, Carlos Santana.
Whoopie knew that Chamberlain liked Santana, and didn't tell her friend that Santana would be a guest star.
When the guitarist was introduced to the audience and took his seat next to Whoopie, she insisted that Mandy come out and meet him on camera.
"I was never more shocked in my life, and she pulls me right on stage," she told me. "It'll be on later tonight, if you get a chance watch it."
Later that night I caught Whoopie's talk show and saw Mandy called on stage to meet Carlos Santana.
The wardrobe supervisor was speechless, the musician amused, and Goldberg laughing hysterically at Mandy's red face.
It was good talking with Mandy again.
She's gearing up to fly to New York to help Whoopie with some sort of project.
"I saw your number in an old book and took a chance I'd reach you", she said. "We had some good times, didn't we?"
Yes, we did have some good times and worked with some great people. None better than Whoopie Goldberg.
German Ohm
By Dan Cuoco
German Ohm was born of German ancestry on May 28, 1936 in Mexico City, Mexico. He was raised in Ciudad Lerado. Leredo is a little town in La Laguna where there are thousands of fig trees. Ohm spent his early youth as a fig planter.
German launched his pro career at age 18 in Gomez Palacio, Mexico on November 11, 1954 losing a four round decision to Chato Campos. Undaunted, German knocked out Jesus Alvarado in Lerdo, Mexico six days later and returned to Gomez Palacio December 9th to knockout Vicente Ramirez in the third round.
Ohm started his 1955 campaign on a sour note by fighting Chino Flores to a four round draw and losing a six round decision to Pinky Ruiz. Even though he hadn’t won either fight he was feeling more comfortable in the ring and won his next five fights, four by kayo, including a six round knockout over Pinky Ruiz in a rematch. Two of his kayos took place in Mexico City where he thrilled hard core fight fans with his exciting style. They saw in German the ingredients that make a fighter sensational - a knockout punch in either hand. It was evident even then that German possessed a devastating left hook and a bone crushing right hand.
German suffered a setback when Luis Gutierrez stopped him in the fourth round of his third fight in Mexico City. Again undaunted, German returned to the ring wars 13 days later and closed out the year with seven consecutive wins, five by knockout. Among his victims were two of Mexico’s toughest second tier bantams Americo Rivera and Angel Iglesias.
Mexico City veteran Mike Cruz was German’s first big test in 1956. He had been in with some of Mexico’s best bantams and had only been stopped twice. And the two fighters to stop him were two of the hottest prospects in Mexico at the time - Ricardo (Pajarito) Moreno and Carlos Cardoso. Although he was stopped by both, Moreno (round 6) and Cardoso (round 5), he extended both of them before succumbing to their numbing power. German wanted to show that he too belonged with the elite and made a good case for himself by knocking out Cruz in the third round. Two more victories followed and on March 22, 1956 German was paired with another fast rising youngster named Jose Becerra. The 19 year-old Becerra had turned professional a year before German and entered the ring with a record of 30-2-1, with 17 kayos. The 19 year-old German was a month younger with a record of 17-3-1, with 13 kayos. Ohm was well ahead on points when the fight was stopped due to severe cuts. Even though he lost, German came out of the fight more determined then ever. He knew he was beating one of Mexico’s best bantams and that the only reason he lost was because of cuts. He now knew he belonged.
A month after the Becerra fight, Ohm was back in the ring and won going away against the veteran Tibico Torres. He followed that victory with three consecutive knockouts over Martin Vasquez, Joe Chamacho and Jorge Gabino.
German was now ready to step up in competition again and on June 30th he won a lopsided decision over crafty veteran Jorge Herrera. His next fight was against another Mexican bantam prospect 18-year old Raul Leanos. Raul had turned pro at age 16 and possessed a record of 20-2-1, with 6 knockouts. His only two losses were by close decision. German journeyed to Leanos’ hometown and destroyed him in two rounds. On July 28th he returned to Mexico City and knocked out tough veteran Babe Rivera in the second round. In and around the La Laguna, Mexico provinces he was now being called the Mexican Teuton. Ohm returned to Mexico City on August 18th to face Arturo (Baby) Ruiz. Ruiz was coming off impressive victories over Jose Luis Mora and Chucho Tello. He proved to be no competition for German and was kayoed in the first round.
German’s winning streak caught the eyes of the editors of “The Ring.” He entered the ratings at number ten on September 21, 1956. The only bantams in Mexico ahead of him now were number one ranked Raul Macias, number four ranked Jose (Toluco) Lopez and number seven ranked Ricardo Moreno.
In September of 1956 German fought twice, outpointing Kildo Martinez in ten and knocking out Avelino Felix in seven. Felix had just come off of a victory over Luis Gutierrez who had stopped German in his eleventh professional fight. Both victories led to his elevation to the ninth spot in the October “Ring” ratings.
The German Ohm - Jose Becerra rematch took place on October 18, 1956 before a packed arena. Ohm was at his best and gave Becerra a boxing lesson enroute to a unanimous decision. The victory was sweetened when Ohm again was elevated in the “Ring” ratings to number eight. Now the only Mexican bantams rated higher than he were number one Macias, and number six Lopez.
Not one to sit on his laurels, Ohm took out Chango Ceballos in nine rounds and then headed into the biggest fight of his career against unbeaten sensation Carlos Cardoso. Cardoso entered the December 8, 1956 Mexico City showdown unbeaten in 26 fights, with 12 kayos. The 20-year old Ohm ended the 21-year old Cardoso’s streak with a unanimous ten round decision. On January 12, 1957 he met Baby Ruiz in a rematch and repeated his earlier victory by blasting Ruiz out again in one round.
Ohm’s fourteen bout winning streak, including his impressive victories over Baby Ruiz, Jose Becerra and Carlos Cardoso, elevated him to the number four world ranking in the bantamweight division. More importantly, he was now the second ranking bantam in Mexico behind number one ranked Raul Macias. And he was only 20 years old.
Ohm did not fight again until October 26, 1957 and was dropped from “The Ring” ratings for inactivity. The Ring’s La Laguna correspondent Miguel Ramirez Aznar commented that German was in Los Angeles under the wing of Frank Sinatra. Be that as it may, Ohm made his U.S. debut at the Hollywood Legion Stadium against Ross Padilla. Ohm, a 4-1 favorite, suffered a severe gash under his right eye that hampered his performance in the late rounds. Padilla walked off with a controversial majority decision and snapped Ohm’s fourteen fight winning streak.
Two months later, Ohm returned to the Hollywood Legion Stadium to take on Hollywood’s latest bantam sensation 20-year old Horace (Boots) Monroe. Monroe was making his main event debut and entered the ring with a record of 11-1, with 9 kayos. Monroe had no problem with German and knocked him out in the fourth round.
On July 17, 1958 German won a ten round decision over Memo Diez in Matamoros, Mexico in what turned out to be his last professional fight. The 22-year-old German disappeared from boxing with a record of 32-6-1, 22 kayos. But for one 18-month period in time, German Ohm was the toast of the La Laguna Mexican Provinces.
German Ohm was born of German ancestry on May 28, 1936 in Mexico City, Mexico. He was raised in Ciudad Lerado. Leredo is a little town in La Laguna where there are thousands of fig trees. Ohm spent his early youth as a fig planter.
German launched his pro career at age 18 in Gomez Palacio, Mexico on November 11, 1954 losing a four round decision to Chato Campos. Undaunted, German knocked out Jesus Alvarado in Lerdo, Mexico six days later and returned to Gomez Palacio December 9th to knockout Vicente Ramirez in the third round.
Ohm started his 1955 campaign on a sour note by fighting Chino Flores to a four round draw and losing a six round decision to Pinky Ruiz. Even though he hadn’t won either fight he was feeling more comfortable in the ring and won his next five fights, four by kayo, including a six round knockout over Pinky Ruiz in a rematch. Two of his kayos took place in Mexico City where he thrilled hard core fight fans with his exciting style. They saw in German the ingredients that make a fighter sensational - a knockout punch in either hand. It was evident even then that German possessed a devastating left hook and a bone crushing right hand.
German suffered a setback when Luis Gutierrez stopped him in the fourth round of his third fight in Mexico City. Again undaunted, German returned to the ring wars 13 days later and closed out the year with seven consecutive wins, five by knockout. Among his victims were two of Mexico’s toughest second tier bantams Americo Rivera and Angel Iglesias.
Mexico City veteran Mike Cruz was German’s first big test in 1956. He had been in with some of Mexico’s best bantams and had only been stopped twice. And the two fighters to stop him were two of the hottest prospects in Mexico at the time - Ricardo (Pajarito) Moreno and Carlos Cardoso. Although he was stopped by both, Moreno (round 6) and Cardoso (round 5), he extended both of them before succumbing to their numbing power. German wanted to show that he too belonged with the elite and made a good case for himself by knocking out Cruz in the third round. Two more victories followed and on March 22, 1956 German was paired with another fast rising youngster named Jose Becerra. The 19 year-old Becerra had turned professional a year before German and entered the ring with a record of 30-2-1, with 17 kayos. The 19 year-old German was a month younger with a record of 17-3-1, with 13 kayos. Ohm was well ahead on points when the fight was stopped due to severe cuts. Even though he lost, German came out of the fight more determined then ever. He knew he was beating one of Mexico’s best bantams and that the only reason he lost was because of cuts. He now knew he belonged.
A month after the Becerra fight, Ohm was back in the ring and won going away against the veteran Tibico Torres. He followed that victory with three consecutive knockouts over Martin Vasquez, Joe Chamacho and Jorge Gabino.
German was now ready to step up in competition again and on June 30th he won a lopsided decision over crafty veteran Jorge Herrera. His next fight was against another Mexican bantam prospect 18-year old Raul Leanos. Raul had turned pro at age 16 and possessed a record of 20-2-1, with 6 knockouts. His only two losses were by close decision. German journeyed to Leanos’ hometown and destroyed him in two rounds. On July 28th he returned to Mexico City and knocked out tough veteran Babe Rivera in the second round. In and around the La Laguna, Mexico provinces he was now being called the Mexican Teuton. Ohm returned to Mexico City on August 18th to face Arturo (Baby) Ruiz. Ruiz was coming off impressive victories over Jose Luis Mora and Chucho Tello. He proved to be no competition for German and was kayoed in the first round.
German’s winning streak caught the eyes of the editors of “The Ring.” He entered the ratings at number ten on September 21, 1956. The only bantams in Mexico ahead of him now were number one ranked Raul Macias, number four ranked Jose (Toluco) Lopez and number seven ranked Ricardo Moreno.
In September of 1956 German fought twice, outpointing Kildo Martinez in ten and knocking out Avelino Felix in seven. Felix had just come off of a victory over Luis Gutierrez who had stopped German in his eleventh professional fight. Both victories led to his elevation to the ninth spot in the October “Ring” ratings.
The German Ohm - Jose Becerra rematch took place on October 18, 1956 before a packed arena. Ohm was at his best and gave Becerra a boxing lesson enroute to a unanimous decision. The victory was sweetened when Ohm again was elevated in the “Ring” ratings to number eight. Now the only Mexican bantams rated higher than he were number one Macias, and number six Lopez.
Not one to sit on his laurels, Ohm took out Chango Ceballos in nine rounds and then headed into the biggest fight of his career against unbeaten sensation Carlos Cardoso. Cardoso entered the December 8, 1956 Mexico City showdown unbeaten in 26 fights, with 12 kayos. The 20-year old Ohm ended the 21-year old Cardoso’s streak with a unanimous ten round decision. On January 12, 1957 he met Baby Ruiz in a rematch and repeated his earlier victory by blasting Ruiz out again in one round.
Ohm’s fourteen bout winning streak, including his impressive victories over Baby Ruiz, Jose Becerra and Carlos Cardoso, elevated him to the number four world ranking in the bantamweight division. More importantly, he was now the second ranking bantam in Mexico behind number one ranked Raul Macias. And he was only 20 years old.
Ohm did not fight again until October 26, 1957 and was dropped from “The Ring” ratings for inactivity. The Ring’s La Laguna correspondent Miguel Ramirez Aznar commented that German was in Los Angeles under the wing of Frank Sinatra. Be that as it may, Ohm made his U.S. debut at the Hollywood Legion Stadium against Ross Padilla. Ohm, a 4-1 favorite, suffered a severe gash under his right eye that hampered his performance in the late rounds. Padilla walked off with a controversial majority decision and snapped Ohm’s fourteen fight winning streak.
Two months later, Ohm returned to the Hollywood Legion Stadium to take on Hollywood’s latest bantam sensation 20-year old Horace (Boots) Monroe. Monroe was making his main event debut and entered the ring with a record of 11-1, with 9 kayos. Monroe had no problem with German and knocked him out in the fourth round.
On July 17, 1958 German won a ten round decision over Memo Diez in Matamoros, Mexico in what turned out to be his last professional fight. The 22-year-old German disappeared from boxing with a record of 32-6-1, 22 kayos. But for one 18-month period in time, German Ohm was the toast of the La Laguna Mexican Provinces.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Man’s Best Friend!
By Felipe Leon
In the time that I have been running around in boxing circles, I have met my fair share of fighters. From “opponents” to up and coming prospects, to retired legends of old to elite boxers to world champions.
I can say with certainty that none of them are more cordial and generous than the man they call “Perro”, up and coming super welterweight Alfredo Angulo.
The first time I met Angulo, It was nearly a year ago at the place where every man wished they could go but many never will, the Playboy Mansion.
ESPN’s Wednesday Night Fights broadcast the return of Julio Diaz to the ring after being demolished at the end of 2007 by Juan Diaz. This time, Diaz easily defeated little known David Torres in the main event.
To reach the Playboy Mansion, all press and invitees needed to meet at a Beverly Hills hotel and then be shuttled to the house that Hef built. There I met for the first time the former Olympian from Mexico.
We broke the ice by talking about mutual friends from Tijuana and then moved on to telling jokes. Good thing Angulo can throw an excellent left hook because he is no threat for George Lopez. He is possibly the worst joke teller in the history of comedy and to refresh your memory, comedy goes back to the days of the greek philosophers.
Once at the Mansion, we went our separate ways, I to cover the fights and he to attend to the many fans who wanted to take their photo with the relentless puncher. Near the end of the night we bumped into each other again and he inquired what I was going to do with the rest of my night. Since I was in the mood to paint the town red (which is not often for those who know me) he graciously invited me to continue the night with him and the group which he had made plans with.
This is where things get interesting.
In the pursuit of keeping my nose where it is instead of another side of my head which would surely happen if I disclosed who else was part of the party, all I am going to reveal is that it was another L.A. based fighter, his manager and trainer, a HBO executive and his friend and yours truly.
By this time, the other unnamed fighter was way on his way to being in layman terms, ripped, along with the rest of his corner while Angulo had not touched a drop of alcohol and wouldn’t the rest of the night while I hadn’t enjoyed a mixed drink since I tend not to while I cover a fight card.
We made our way to a Hollywood club that is owned by a well known young actor and were welcomed as VIP and treated as such for the rest of the night.
As the well oiled fighter and his crew continued to enjoy themselves for the rest of the night with drinks, dancing and dames, “Perro” and I enjoyed the scenery while Angulo drank juice and I the same-except mine had an extra “kick”.
As we stumbled out of the establishment at 2 am, it suddenly occurred to me that I had to drive back to San Diego that night. As I shared this with the group, it took about a tenth of a nanosecond for Angulo to offer his humble abode to me, a person he had just met a mere 2-3 pineapple juices ago.
I hesitated to accept as I deliberated whether I would be breaking any writer-fighter ethical codes but I quickly imagined my drive back without any sleep so I rapidly accepted.
Before we bedded down for the night, we enjoyed that time honored tradition of party people everywhere: the late night Mexican food run.
As we devoured a dinner of too much salsa coupled with way too much cheese, we spoke of recently passed fights and upcoming ones that we were looking forward too.
Once at his one room apartment located behind a regular sized house in a suburb of Los Angeles, I went to use the restroom.
When I exited, Angulo was preparing a bedding on the floor that I was sure was for me since I knew that Angulo, ever the gym rat, was surely going to train the next day whose daybreak was a mere couple of hours away.
Much to my surprise, he proceeded to lay down on the floor himself among the scattered boxing equipment and tennis shoes as he offered me the ample bed pushed against a wall.
I immediately refused but when a professional fighter who at that time was riding a nine KO streak and has scored two more since then insists, you comply.
So I slept on the bed.
Four hours later my alarm went off and I began my short two hour trek back to San Diego.
The whole time I spent with Angulo, he made me feel like we had known each other for years and never did he put up the wall that many fighters do when they know that they are dealing with a member of the press.
Since then, I have bumped into Angulo several times and been around him when he has dealt with other boxing scribes and he is as genuine with them as he was with me.
When he offered his bed to me, I knew that I was dealing with a man that although humble in his beginnings had the wealth of an education that was taught to him by his beloved mother.
On May 30th, “Perro” Angulo will be taking on his biggest challenge to date when he faces former two time welterweight champion Kermit Cintron in Florida. Rest assured that I will be cheering for Angulo, journalist ethics be damned.
In the time that I have been running around in boxing circles, I have met my fair share of fighters. From “opponents” to up and coming prospects, to retired legends of old to elite boxers to world champions.
I can say with certainty that none of them are more cordial and generous than the man they call “Perro”, up and coming super welterweight Alfredo Angulo.
The first time I met Angulo, It was nearly a year ago at the place where every man wished they could go but many never will, the Playboy Mansion.
ESPN’s Wednesday Night Fights broadcast the return of Julio Diaz to the ring after being demolished at the end of 2007 by Juan Diaz. This time, Diaz easily defeated little known David Torres in the main event.
To reach the Playboy Mansion, all press and invitees needed to meet at a Beverly Hills hotel and then be shuttled to the house that Hef built. There I met for the first time the former Olympian from Mexico.
We broke the ice by talking about mutual friends from Tijuana and then moved on to telling jokes. Good thing Angulo can throw an excellent left hook because he is no threat for George Lopez. He is possibly the worst joke teller in the history of comedy and to refresh your memory, comedy goes back to the days of the greek philosophers.
Once at the Mansion, we went our separate ways, I to cover the fights and he to attend to the many fans who wanted to take their photo with the relentless puncher. Near the end of the night we bumped into each other again and he inquired what I was going to do with the rest of my night. Since I was in the mood to paint the town red (which is not often for those who know me) he graciously invited me to continue the night with him and the group which he had made plans with.
This is where things get interesting.
In the pursuit of keeping my nose where it is instead of another side of my head which would surely happen if I disclosed who else was part of the party, all I am going to reveal is that it was another L.A. based fighter, his manager and trainer, a HBO executive and his friend and yours truly.
By this time, the other unnamed fighter was way on his way to being in layman terms, ripped, along with the rest of his corner while Angulo had not touched a drop of alcohol and wouldn’t the rest of the night while I hadn’t enjoyed a mixed drink since I tend not to while I cover a fight card.
We made our way to a Hollywood club that is owned by a well known young actor and were welcomed as VIP and treated as such for the rest of the night.
As the well oiled fighter and his crew continued to enjoy themselves for the rest of the night with drinks, dancing and dames, “Perro” and I enjoyed the scenery while Angulo drank juice and I the same-except mine had an extra “kick”.
As we stumbled out of the establishment at 2 am, it suddenly occurred to me that I had to drive back to San Diego that night. As I shared this with the group, it took about a tenth of a nanosecond for Angulo to offer his humble abode to me, a person he had just met a mere 2-3 pineapple juices ago.
I hesitated to accept as I deliberated whether I would be breaking any writer-fighter ethical codes but I quickly imagined my drive back without any sleep so I rapidly accepted.
Before we bedded down for the night, we enjoyed that time honored tradition of party people everywhere: the late night Mexican food run.
As we devoured a dinner of too much salsa coupled with way too much cheese, we spoke of recently passed fights and upcoming ones that we were looking forward too.
Once at his one room apartment located behind a regular sized house in a suburb of Los Angeles, I went to use the restroom.
When I exited, Angulo was preparing a bedding on the floor that I was sure was for me since I knew that Angulo, ever the gym rat, was surely going to train the next day whose daybreak was a mere couple of hours away.
Much to my surprise, he proceeded to lay down on the floor himself among the scattered boxing equipment and tennis shoes as he offered me the ample bed pushed against a wall.
I immediately refused but when a professional fighter who at that time was riding a nine KO streak and has scored two more since then insists, you comply.
So I slept on the bed.
Four hours later my alarm went off and I began my short two hour trek back to San Diego.
The whole time I spent with Angulo, he made me feel like we had known each other for years and never did he put up the wall that many fighters do when they know that they are dealing with a member of the press.
Since then, I have bumped into Angulo several times and been around him when he has dealt with other boxing scribes and he is as genuine with them as he was with me.
When he offered his bed to me, I knew that I was dealing with a man that although humble in his beginnings had the wealth of an education that was taught to him by his beloved mother.
On May 30th, “Perro” Angulo will be taking on his biggest challenge to date when he faces former two time welterweight champion Kermit Cintron in Florida. Rest assured that I will be cheering for Angulo, journalist ethics be damned.
Tough Tijuana!
By Felipe Leon
CREA Gym
In my travels as a boxing journalist, I have visited my fair share of gyms. From the Wild Card gym before it was THE Wild Card gym to white collar training facilities in San Diego to seedy Barrio Logan holes in the wall. But no matter where these north of the border schools of hard knocks are located or what equipment they have, they are worlds away from the run down establishments their south of the border brethren like to call gimnasios.
If a San Diego white collar gym is a two story, three bedroom house, then a TJ gym is a cardboard shack.
Although there is one “white collar” gym in Tijuana which is located in the modern Sports World gym, no fighter of consequence has ever come out of there despite having former journeyman fighter “Zero” Sanchez as the man in charge.
I guess you can’t turn Tijuana bankers into world contenders.
The next best equipped gyms in Tijuana are the ones funded by the Municipal Institute for Sports which is helmed by former three time world champion Erik Morales.
The most well known is located next to the Municipal Auditorium and is inhabited by an array of amateur stars as well as professional fighters such as current IBF featherweight champion Cristobal “Lacandon” Cruz. The gym boasts a regulation size ring and rows of double end and heavy bags. Same thing can be said for the gym run by former bantamweight champion Raul “Jibaro” Perez who among the top amateurs who train there, you can also find former two time Jr. middleweight champion Alejandro “Terra” Garcia and former straw weight champ Roberto “Mako” Leyva. This gym also has a normal sized ring and plenty of heavy bags among others.
You might be asking why I keep bringing up the fact that both of these gyms have “regulation” or “normal” sized rings. It’s because as far as I have witnessed, these are the only two that do.
The CREA gym where many world champions have gone thru its doors such as the living legend himself Julio Cesar Chavez Sr, the afore mentioned Raul “Jibaro” Perez, Humberto “Zorrita” Soto, Jose Luis “Temible” Castillo and Jorge “Travieso” Arce has no such thing. Other fighters who have trained or train there are Antonio DeMarco, JC Chavez Jr and his brother Omar as well as the cream of the Tijuana’s crop of up and comers, in my humble opinion, all under the watchful eye of Romulo Quirarte and his two sons.
This gym has no regulation ring but two make shift areas that I would be hard pressed to even call a ring. Instead of a bouncy canvas you have what might have been the floor of a high school gym still marked with the Greco Roman wrestling boundaries.
The double end bags as well as the rest of the equipment is held together by the ever resilient duct tape that needs to be reapplied every evening before the doors are locked with a heavy lock.
This is Tijuana after all.
No fans are visible or felt anywhere in the gym and since the majority of the warriors inside are training to make weight for an upcoming bout, all the windows and doors are kept tightly shut. The temperature surely reaches 110 degrees during the summer.
Don’t get me started on the restrooms.
The Azteca Gym located in the Colonia Independencia wished it was as nice as the CREA. Located in one of the oldest neighborhoods of Tijuana, visitors need to go down a series of steps to enter the roughly double car garage sized room. The “ring” sits squarely in the middle of the room and since I didn’t stay long in fear of encountering a rat the size of my seven lbs. Chihuahua, didn’t notice much equipment. WBC #3 ranked featherweight Juan Carlos Burgos, and jr. welterweight Pavel Miranda among others train there. Three time welterweight champion Antonio Margarito also shakes down at the Azteca before traveling to Los Angeles for camp.
Even though many current, former and retired champions have come out of Tijuana and trained in these conditions, I often wonder what kind of fighters they would be if they trained in a high class facility such as the one Ivan Drago in “Rocky IV” trained in.
Will they still be as hungry? Will they still be as tough?
Who knows?
What I do know is that probably they wouldn’t be as happy since every time I visit one of these gyms, every fighter greets me with a smile as they continue to hit each other or the bag in front of them.
You can tell they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
CREA Gym
In my travels as a boxing journalist, I have visited my fair share of gyms. From the Wild Card gym before it was THE Wild Card gym to white collar training facilities in San Diego to seedy Barrio Logan holes in the wall. But no matter where these north of the border schools of hard knocks are located or what equipment they have, they are worlds away from the run down establishments their south of the border brethren like to call gimnasios.
If a San Diego white collar gym is a two story, three bedroom house, then a TJ gym is a cardboard shack.
Although there is one “white collar” gym in Tijuana which is located in the modern Sports World gym, no fighter of consequence has ever come out of there despite having former journeyman fighter “Zero” Sanchez as the man in charge.
I guess you can’t turn Tijuana bankers into world contenders.
The next best equipped gyms in Tijuana are the ones funded by the Municipal Institute for Sports which is helmed by former three time world champion Erik Morales.
The most well known is located next to the Municipal Auditorium and is inhabited by an array of amateur stars as well as professional fighters such as current IBF featherweight champion Cristobal “Lacandon” Cruz. The gym boasts a regulation size ring and rows of double end and heavy bags. Same thing can be said for the gym run by former bantamweight champion Raul “Jibaro” Perez who among the top amateurs who train there, you can also find former two time Jr. middleweight champion Alejandro “Terra” Garcia and former straw weight champ Roberto “Mako” Leyva. This gym also has a normal sized ring and plenty of heavy bags among others.
You might be asking why I keep bringing up the fact that both of these gyms have “regulation” or “normal” sized rings. It’s because as far as I have witnessed, these are the only two that do.
The CREA gym where many world champions have gone thru its doors such as the living legend himself Julio Cesar Chavez Sr, the afore mentioned Raul “Jibaro” Perez, Humberto “Zorrita” Soto, Jose Luis “Temible” Castillo and Jorge “Travieso” Arce has no such thing. Other fighters who have trained or train there are Antonio DeMarco, JC Chavez Jr and his brother Omar as well as the cream of the Tijuana’s crop of up and comers, in my humble opinion, all under the watchful eye of Romulo Quirarte and his two sons.
This gym has no regulation ring but two make shift areas that I would be hard pressed to even call a ring. Instead of a bouncy canvas you have what might have been the floor of a high school gym still marked with the Greco Roman wrestling boundaries.
The double end bags as well as the rest of the equipment is held together by the ever resilient duct tape that needs to be reapplied every evening before the doors are locked with a heavy lock.
This is Tijuana after all.
No fans are visible or felt anywhere in the gym and since the majority of the warriors inside are training to make weight for an upcoming bout, all the windows and doors are kept tightly shut. The temperature surely reaches 110 degrees during the summer.
Don’t get me started on the restrooms.
The Azteca Gym located in the Colonia Independencia wished it was as nice as the CREA. Located in one of the oldest neighborhoods of Tijuana, visitors need to go down a series of steps to enter the roughly double car garage sized room. The “ring” sits squarely in the middle of the room and since I didn’t stay long in fear of encountering a rat the size of my seven lbs. Chihuahua, didn’t notice much equipment. WBC #3 ranked featherweight Juan Carlos Burgos, and jr. welterweight Pavel Miranda among others train there. Three time welterweight champion Antonio Margarito also shakes down at the Azteca before traveling to Los Angeles for camp.
Even though many current, former and retired champions have come out of Tijuana and trained in these conditions, I often wonder what kind of fighters they would be if they trained in a high class facility such as the one Ivan Drago in “Rocky IV” trained in.
Will they still be as hungry? Will they still be as tough?
Who knows?
What I do know is that probably they wouldn’t be as happy since every time I visit one of these gyms, every fighter greets me with a smile as they continue to hit each other or the bag in front of them.
You can tell they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
Friday, June 5, 2009
EVERY TRAINER
By Roger Esty
Lots of talk latlely on the thread about trainers. Fight trainers. Not many of them left. Put it this way,not many good ones anyway. When the guys mention McCoy and Steindler. Burke Emery,Charley Goldman,Eddie Futch. Go ahead ,add your names to the list fellas. We stop and think of who's left to school a kid properly when it comes to being a prize fighter.
But why were there so many good trainers back then? When Howie Albert asked Gil Clancy to train Emile Griffith,Clancy's job was a physical ed. teacher. So what did Gil know about boxing? Plenty. Plenty because part of being a P.E. teacher was teaching boxing. Most people back in the day lived in big cities back East.For the kids, there was no Little League and Pop Warner Football. Baseball was stick ball played in the street. Basketball was nothin'. So for juvenile recreational fun,it was down to the park rec center,neighborhood boy's club,the Y,or the local gym to lace on a pair of gloves and step into the boxing ring. All our dads did it. It was even a part of the phys. ed. programs in school.
After the war,things started to change. Suburbia,Little League,Pop Warner,basketball gymnasiums. Boxing was no longer a fit. The Sporting News(the sports fan's bible)dropped the reporting of boxing from its pages. It used to be baseball,horse racing,and boxing. Can't see that now. NFL,NBA has taken over.
But our dads knew boxing. If it came to push and shove,they could even teach it because they all did it in one degree or another. But our dads are gone. And most of the good trainers too. Hell anyone over 70 doesn't have the wind anymore to try to get across the techniques of throwing a jab properly to some kid who has a Wii.
Lots of talk latlely on the thread about trainers. Fight trainers. Not many of them left. Put it this way,not many good ones anyway. When the guys mention McCoy and Steindler. Burke Emery,Charley Goldman,Eddie Futch. Go ahead ,add your names to the list fellas. We stop and think of who's left to school a kid properly when it comes to being a prize fighter.
But why were there so many good trainers back then? When Howie Albert asked Gil Clancy to train Emile Griffith,Clancy's job was a physical ed. teacher. So what did Gil know about boxing? Plenty. Plenty because part of being a P.E. teacher was teaching boxing. Most people back in the day lived in big cities back East.For the kids, there was no Little League and Pop Warner Football. Baseball was stick ball played in the street. Basketball was nothin'. So for juvenile recreational fun,it was down to the park rec center,neighborhood boy's club,the Y,or the local gym to lace on a pair of gloves and step into the boxing ring. All our dads did it. It was even a part of the phys. ed. programs in school.
After the war,things started to change. Suburbia,Little League,Pop Warner,basketball gymnasiums. Boxing was no longer a fit. The Sporting News(the sports fan's bible)dropped the reporting of boxing from its pages. It used to be baseball,horse racing,and boxing. Can't see that now. NFL,NBA has taken over.
But our dads knew boxing. If it came to push and shove,they could even teach it because they all did it in one degree or another. But our dads are gone. And most of the good trainers too. Hell anyone over 70 doesn't have the wind anymore to try to get across the techniques of throwing a jab properly to some kid who has a Wii.
Rita Moreno . . .
By Rick Farris
I had a hard time noticing Lalo Rios when he was playing opposite a teenage Rita Moreno.
I had the chance to work with the Puerto Rican star twice during my career.
In 1979, she was a guest star on "The Rockford Files", a series that I worked on.
A year later, I worked with her on a feature film, "The Four Seasons", with Alan Alda and Carol Burnett.
We were on location near the Virgin Islands for that one, and in New England.
Rita Moreno was the first of just a few actors who have won an Oscar, an Emmy, a Grammy and a Tony.
She's also won a Cleo, which is the TV commercial version of an Oscar.
No actor has surpassed her in the award department.
I have to say that she was very much a "method actress", and in one scene, where her charactor was a hooker, she proved she was also risque.
In the scene, Rita's charactor is in a phone booth making a call.
The phonebooth is in the parking lot of a gas station.
A car drives by and sprays the phonebooth with bullets.
The hooker is gunned down and lies outside the phone booth, dying in the arms of James Garner.
I was a young lighting director, always close to the lens when the camera was rolling.
I'd see eveything the camera sees, and sometimes more.
In this case, as Rita Moreno rolled onto the ground, her short dress pulled up over her waist.
A couple of us were caught by surprise when we noticed the actress was wearing nothing under the dress.
I mean, she knew she had this scene to do. She just didn't care. Bette Davis was the same way.
She was a pro, and nothing appeared before the lens. But there were a few smiles on the set.
That was exactly thirty years ago.
She was certainly a beautiful young woman as a teenager. And she was a cool old gal when I met her.
I had a hard time noticing Lalo Rios when he was playing opposite a teenage Rita Moreno.
I had the chance to work with the Puerto Rican star twice during my career.
In 1979, she was a guest star on "The Rockford Files", a series that I worked on.
A year later, I worked with her on a feature film, "The Four Seasons", with Alan Alda and Carol Burnett.
We were on location near the Virgin Islands for that one, and in New England.
Rita Moreno was the first of just a few actors who have won an Oscar, an Emmy, a Grammy and a Tony.
She's also won a Cleo, which is the TV commercial version of an Oscar.
No actor has surpassed her in the award department.
I have to say that she was very much a "method actress", and in one scene, where her charactor was a hooker, she proved she was also risque.
In the scene, Rita's charactor is in a phone booth making a call.
The phonebooth is in the parking lot of a gas station.
A car drives by and sprays the phonebooth with bullets.
The hooker is gunned down and lies outside the phone booth, dying in the arms of James Garner.
I was a young lighting director, always close to the lens when the camera was rolling.
I'd see eveything the camera sees, and sometimes more.
In this case, as Rita Moreno rolled onto the ground, her short dress pulled up over her waist.
A couple of us were caught by surprise when we noticed the actress was wearing nothing under the dress.
I mean, she knew she had this scene to do. She just didn't care. Bette Davis was the same way.
She was a pro, and nothing appeared before the lens. But there were a few smiles on the set.
That was exactly thirty years ago.
She was certainly a beautiful young woman as a teenager. And she was a cool old gal when I met her.
"Louie J."
By Rick Farris
The first time I saw Louie J. was on television, from the Olympic Auditorium.
He was working the corner of a bantamweight, appearing in one of two amateur bouts proceeding the professional card.
His fighter's name was Victor "Butch" Contreras, and the cornerman had "Teamsters Gym" embroidered on the back of his white button-down shirt.
He was stocky, about fifty-years-old when I first met him, had a powerful build, not tall, but soild.
He was balding, wore glasses. He had a big smile, and a deep voice.
He co-founded the Los Angeles Jr. Golden Gloves program, along with Johnny Flores, after WW2.
He had been a boxer, and for decades a leader in Southern California amateur boxing.
Several of his better amateurs went to the top as pros, such as Armando Muniz and Frankie Duarte, and dozen's more whom he worked with.
Over the years I fought a number of boxers from the Teamster's Gym.
Louie knew who I was, and when I was 17, I was starting to grow and get strong. I was getting better, too.
In 1969, during the summer, I'm 17 and fight one of the Teamster's 23-year-old bantams, I weigh about 114lbs.
His name is Gabe Gutierrez and he's a pretty good fighter. We fight at the Olympic on a thursday night pro card, July 1969.
We have a close one, he get's the nod.
Three months later we fight again, this time at the China Lake Naval base.
I'm weighing about 117, and have two KO wins since our fight in July.
Louie knows I'm going to be a problem for his fighter. So do I.
We all meet somewhere downtown, I forget where. We load into a nice charter bus that will take boxers, coaches, etc. up into the high desert.
China Lake is above Edwards Air Force base, and Marty Denkin had a connection that allowed him to promote up there.
Over three months, Marty held two cards at the China Lake. This was the first.
We load into the bus and I park myself in a window seat. Plenty of room to stretch out a bit, get some rest during the ride.
My opponent was seated about three rows behind me, and his coach, Jouie J., beside him.
The bus starts to pull away and all of a sudden I feel this body slide into the seat next to mine.
It's Louie.
As I close my eyes to take a nap, Louie wakes me to tell me a joke. And another one, then gives me the history of L.A. Jr. Golden Gloves.
I know what he's doing. He talks the entire trip.
When I arrive, I am ready to fight. I didn't really need the nap, and the coach really screwed his fighter by trying to be smart.
My frame of mind had never been better for a fight.
I got no rest on my trip, but that didn't work out in Gabe Gutierrez's best interest. I kicked his ass pretty bad.
After the fight, I thanked Louie. I told him if it wasn't for his motivation on the bus, I wouldn't have beaten his fighter so easily.
By the way, Gabe Gutierrez and I would fight six times. Three in the amateurs and three in the pros.
After the first bout, Louie could not help him.
Last time I saw Louie across the ring from me was in 1972. I was training at Teamster's for a week, boxing with Armando Muniz for speed.
Louie and Mel Epstein would visit. He'd laugh out loud and say, "I known Ricky since he was a kid . . ."
I said to Louie, "Hey, remember that ride on the bus we took up to China Lake? You talked all the way up and then I kicked your fighter's ass."
Louie says, "Oh yeah".
We both laughed
The first time I saw Louie J. was on television, from the Olympic Auditorium.
He was working the corner of a bantamweight, appearing in one of two amateur bouts proceeding the professional card.
His fighter's name was Victor "Butch" Contreras, and the cornerman had "Teamsters Gym" embroidered on the back of his white button-down shirt.
He was stocky, about fifty-years-old when I first met him, had a powerful build, not tall, but soild.
He was balding, wore glasses. He had a big smile, and a deep voice.
He co-founded the Los Angeles Jr. Golden Gloves program, along with Johnny Flores, after WW2.
He had been a boxer, and for decades a leader in Southern California amateur boxing.
Several of his better amateurs went to the top as pros, such as Armando Muniz and Frankie Duarte, and dozen's more whom he worked with.
Over the years I fought a number of boxers from the Teamster's Gym.
Louie knew who I was, and when I was 17, I was starting to grow and get strong. I was getting better, too.
In 1969, during the summer, I'm 17 and fight one of the Teamster's 23-year-old bantams, I weigh about 114lbs.
His name is Gabe Gutierrez and he's a pretty good fighter. We fight at the Olympic on a thursday night pro card, July 1969.
We have a close one, he get's the nod.
Three months later we fight again, this time at the China Lake Naval base.
I'm weighing about 117, and have two KO wins since our fight in July.
Louie knows I'm going to be a problem for his fighter. So do I.
We all meet somewhere downtown, I forget where. We load into a nice charter bus that will take boxers, coaches, etc. up into the high desert.
China Lake is above Edwards Air Force base, and Marty Denkin had a connection that allowed him to promote up there.
Over three months, Marty held two cards at the China Lake. This was the first.
We load into the bus and I park myself in a window seat. Plenty of room to stretch out a bit, get some rest during the ride.
My opponent was seated about three rows behind me, and his coach, Jouie J., beside him.
The bus starts to pull away and all of a sudden I feel this body slide into the seat next to mine.
It's Louie.
As I close my eyes to take a nap, Louie wakes me to tell me a joke. And another one, then gives me the history of L.A. Jr. Golden Gloves.
I know what he's doing. He talks the entire trip.
When I arrive, I am ready to fight. I didn't really need the nap, and the coach really screwed his fighter by trying to be smart.
My frame of mind had never been better for a fight.
I got no rest on my trip, but that didn't work out in Gabe Gutierrez's best interest. I kicked his ass pretty bad.
After the fight, I thanked Louie. I told him if it wasn't for his motivation on the bus, I wouldn't have beaten his fighter so easily.
By the way, Gabe Gutierrez and I would fight six times. Three in the amateurs and three in the pros.
After the first bout, Louie could not help him.
Last time I saw Louie across the ring from me was in 1972. I was training at Teamster's for a week, boxing with Armando Muniz for speed.
Louie and Mel Epstein would visit. He'd laugh out loud and say, "I known Ricky since he was a kid . . ."
I said to Louie, "Hey, remember that ride on the bus we took up to China Lake? You talked all the way up and then I kicked your fighter's ass."
Louie says, "Oh yeah".
We both laughed
Sonny Ray & The Seaside Gym . . .
By Rick Farris
I remember seeing Sonny Ray at amateur boxing shows all thru the later 60's.
Sonny worked with Ernie DeFrance and company at Long Beach's Seaside Gym.
Jake Shagrue took over the place around that time.
In 1969, Sonny joined DeFrance, Jake Horn, and Memo Soto as a coach for our Southern Pacific AAU team.
We'd compete in the Nationals in San Diego in early April.
We'd all be lodged at the Le Baron Hotel on San Diego's Hotel Circle.
Sonny Ray was born in Tennesee in 1936. He grew up in Chicago but would begin his pro boxing career in California, at age 18.
From the mid-50's-to-60's, Ray fought some of the best lightheavy's of the era.
In 1959, he took on World Light Heavyweight champ, Harold Johnson, in a ten-rounder at Chicago Stadium. Losing by 10th rd. TKO.
A year later, he returned to Chicago Stadium to fight another light-heavy champ, Willie Pastrano. He lost a close decision.
Sonny wasn't afraid to fight the best in their hometowns.
He'd travel to Peru to face, Mauro Mina.
In London, he'd fight Chic Calderwood at Wembley Stadium.
In Hawaii, he'd face Bobo Olson.
Between ages 18 and 30, Sonny Ray fought nearly fifty pro fights.
When he joined our AAU team as a coach, he was 33, had retired three years earlier after losing to Matt Blow in San Bernardino.
He was quiet, spoke when it was necessary and wasn't afraid to bark at the Long Beach boxers.
Everybody liked the man, and respected him.
The only time I saw Sonny Ray smile was after the tournament finals.
The old men were all in one of the coach's room. They had a poker table set up, cards and chips out.
The bath tub was filled with ice and booze.
We'd leave for home the next day. More than 350 boxers were suddenly running wild thru the hotel, San Siego, and T.J.
The fights were over. The dogs were all let out for the night. No woman was safe.
However, the older guys let the younger guys go out and get themselves in trouble. They'd all been there, done that, no mas.
Our lightweight punched out a bartender in TJ. A couple days later his dad bailed him out of the Tijuana Jail
There were other adventures.
The old guys played it smart. Drank all night, poker all night. Eventually they went to sleep.
The next day, all coaches were ready to leave early.
Some of us were suffering pain that had nothing to do with punches.
Sonny Ray just shook his head.
I remember seeing Sonny Ray at amateur boxing shows all thru the later 60's.
Sonny worked with Ernie DeFrance and company at Long Beach's Seaside Gym.
Jake Shagrue took over the place around that time.
In 1969, Sonny joined DeFrance, Jake Horn, and Memo Soto as a coach for our Southern Pacific AAU team.
We'd compete in the Nationals in San Diego in early April.
We'd all be lodged at the Le Baron Hotel on San Diego's Hotel Circle.
Sonny Ray was born in Tennesee in 1936. He grew up in Chicago but would begin his pro boxing career in California, at age 18.
From the mid-50's-to-60's, Ray fought some of the best lightheavy's of the era.
In 1959, he took on World Light Heavyweight champ, Harold Johnson, in a ten-rounder at Chicago Stadium. Losing by 10th rd. TKO.
A year later, he returned to Chicago Stadium to fight another light-heavy champ, Willie Pastrano. He lost a close decision.
Sonny wasn't afraid to fight the best in their hometowns.
He'd travel to Peru to face, Mauro Mina.
In London, he'd fight Chic Calderwood at Wembley Stadium.
In Hawaii, he'd face Bobo Olson.
Between ages 18 and 30, Sonny Ray fought nearly fifty pro fights.
When he joined our AAU team as a coach, he was 33, had retired three years earlier after losing to Matt Blow in San Bernardino.
He was quiet, spoke when it was necessary and wasn't afraid to bark at the Long Beach boxers.
Everybody liked the man, and respected him.
The only time I saw Sonny Ray smile was after the tournament finals.
The old men were all in one of the coach's room. They had a poker table set up, cards and chips out.
The bath tub was filled with ice and booze.
We'd leave for home the next day. More than 350 boxers were suddenly running wild thru the hotel, San Siego, and T.J.
The fights were over. The dogs were all let out for the night. No woman was safe.
However, the older guys let the younger guys go out and get themselves in trouble. They'd all been there, done that, no mas.
Our lightweight punched out a bartender in TJ. A couple days later his dad bailed him out of the Tijuana Jail
There were other adventures.
The old guys played it smart. Drank all night, poker all night. Eventually they went to sleep.
The next day, all coaches were ready to leave early.
Some of us were suffering pain that had nothing to do with punches.
Sonny Ray just shook his head.
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling . . .
Photo and caption courtesy of Rick Farris
1969 Southern Pacific A.A.U. Champions, El Monte Legion Stadium
(top row) Pete Despart, ?, ?, Mike Quarry, ?, ?, James Dick, Jake Horn, "Kit" Boursse', Manny Diaz, Memo Soto.
(bottom row) Ernie DeFrance, Pete Vital Sr, Pete Vital Jr., Florentino Ramirez, Rudy "Porky" Acuna, Rick Farris, Tommy Coulson, Henry Verastique.
As this photo was taken, the Quarry family, and the family of Mike Quarry's opponent, James Dick, were involved in a little disagreement at ringside. It was settled by the riot squad of the El Monte Police Dept.
When Irish Eyes Are Smiling . . .
By Rick Farris
I can be seen in the photo with the rest of our AAU Team for 1969, however, Frank was also there.
As the photographer snapped photos, the team and Frank Baltazar (off camera) enjoyed the safety of the ring.
There was big trouble brewing at ringside.
A Quarry won the last bout. Mike got the nod over a Hillbilly, and the Clampett family wasn't happy.
Lots of things being thrown at ringside- punches, purses, cups of beer, men rolling around the ground in head locks.
A woman's wig suddenly flys thru the air like a platinum pigeon, a cherry bomb explodes.
The majority of the battle is being waged by the women, lots of biting scratching and kicking, somebody gets stabbed.
Ma Quarry is brought in to settle the mess, she's wearing high-heels for the first time ever and she ain't happy.
Hard enough to walk in the damn things, now she's gotta fight in them.
A moment later the two old broads are on the ground, Ma Quarry vs. Granny Clampett.
The Riot Squad bursts in, pulls the men apart and cuffs them.
Elly May is maced before she can level Wilma Quarry with a fold-up chair.
The riot squad sees that it's best to deal with the men first, and are slow to approach Ma Quarry as she pounds Granny.
Ma suddenly pins Granny Clampett and jumps to her feet.
A policeman attempts to cuff the mother of the world's #2 ranked heavyweight.
"Get your friggin hands off of me. Can't you see I am a lady?"
Without blinking an eye, the policeman replies, "Yes Mam."
He then moved away to deal with another suspect, brother Jimmy. The Quarry men aren't as dangerous as the women.
Just a typical Saturday evening at the El Monte Legion Stadium.
Irish eyes were smiling.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
COPING
By Roger Esty
Spud Murphy's Gym was named after the fallen fighter who had his licensed revoked because of a bad brain scan. His father let him workout in the gym still, and after a sparring session,Spud collapsed in the shower and died.
I remember Irish Spud Murphy fighting preliminaries at the Coliseum. From the start you could tell that the kid didn't have it. There was a lot of talk about the father trying to make something out of his son when it would have been best to leave him alone. But Spud kept plugging along although he didn't have anything going for him. He didn't have a punch. He was frail looking. And he cut easy.
It wasn't until much later that I found out about his death. Terry Norris told me about it when I went up to Spud Murphy's gym to watch him train for a fight.
The parents still kept the doors open. I remember that there were always a lot of fighters working out. The gym was upstairs above a pool hall.
The father ,I think, went a little crazy after his son's death. He'd talk about his son like he was still alive. He also went on about how his son was a great fighter. There were newspaper clippings of his son's short boxing career,I remember,pasted on the wall. I also remember the mother. She was an elderly heavy set gal with gray hair. Looked like someone's grandmother. She wore a plain plaid dress. She stayed mostly behind the counter. She sold sodas and candy. I'd see her limp around carrying cases of beer and keepng things straightened out. Towels stacked high. Sweeping the floor. Cleaning the lockers.
While her husband was talking everyone's head off about his son and whatever,I never heard his wife say anything. Maybe that was their ways of dealing with Spud's death. The father trying to keep ahead of the power curve by talking all the time. The mother just trying to keep moving and stay busy.
Spud Murphy's Gym was named after the fallen fighter who had his licensed revoked because of a bad brain scan. His father let him workout in the gym still, and after a sparring session,Spud collapsed in the shower and died.
I remember Irish Spud Murphy fighting preliminaries at the Coliseum. From the start you could tell that the kid didn't have it. There was a lot of talk about the father trying to make something out of his son when it would have been best to leave him alone. But Spud kept plugging along although he didn't have anything going for him. He didn't have a punch. He was frail looking. And he cut easy.
It wasn't until much later that I found out about his death. Terry Norris told me about it when I went up to Spud Murphy's gym to watch him train for a fight.
The parents still kept the doors open. I remember that there were always a lot of fighters working out. The gym was upstairs above a pool hall.
The father ,I think, went a little crazy after his son's death. He'd talk about his son like he was still alive. He also went on about how his son was a great fighter. There were newspaper clippings of his son's short boxing career,I remember,pasted on the wall. I also remember the mother. She was an elderly heavy set gal with gray hair. Looked like someone's grandmother. She wore a plain plaid dress. She stayed mostly behind the counter. She sold sodas and candy. I'd see her limp around carrying cases of beer and keepng things straightened out. Towels stacked high. Sweeping the floor. Cleaning the lockers.
While her husband was talking everyone's head off about his son and whatever,I never heard his wife say anything. Maybe that was their ways of dealing with Spud's death. The father trying to keep ahead of the power curve by talking all the time. The mother just trying to keep moving and stay busy.
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