By Rick Farris
In 1965, promoters Cal & Aileen Eaton began promoting weekly televised boxing shows from the Olympic Auditorium in Los Angeles. L.A. was loaded with boxing talent and the Eatons would parlay this talent into the most successful weekly boxing promotion in the world.
The Eatons hired veteran boxing figure Mickey Davies as matchmaker and Jimmy Lennon Sr. (The Voice of the Olympic Auditorium) was the ring announcer. The fights were televised every Thursday night on KTLA channel 5 from 8-to-10 pm.
with matchmaker Davies and a young Dick Enberg calling the action from ringside. It was a winning combination. However, it was the boxers that made "Boxing from the Olympic" the highest rated local TV production in Southern California.
A few months after things got started Cal Eaton passed away, leaving his widow Aileen with the responsibility of running the show. Aileen was not to be underestimated and she had no difficulty dealing in the tough world of professional boxing. To the managers she was known as a tough businesswoman and was nicknamed "Dragon Lady". However, she was like a mother to the boxers.
Eaton had the connections and resources to bring top name talent to Los Angeles to headline her boxing cards and often did so. However, she was also aware of the potential of local talent and focused her business on the development of these young fighters. For the next decade Aileen Eaton would help build the careers of many exceptional boxers and several would go on to win world championships.
The first World Champion to come from this group was one of the most exciting and charismatic to ever step into the ring at the 18th & Grand arena.
His name was Armando Ramos. Mando would become the youngest man to ever win the World Lightweight Championship.
Mando Ramos was a boxing prodigy. His father Ray Ramos had been a boxer and he taught his sons Junior and Mando how to box shortly after they had started walking. When Junior began boxing as an amateur Mando would follow his older brother to the gym. By the age of eight, Mando was competing in Jr. Golden Gloves tournaments in Los Angeles.
By the time Junior turned professional Mando was already gaining a rep at the gym. The tall, skinny teenager was outboxing a lot of pros and his punching power was no secret.
Mando Ramos had a gift, but he also had a curse. The gift Mando had would take him to the top of the world in boxing. However, the curse would take it all away from him before he ever had a chance to reach his prime as a boxer.
In the evening, Mando would work in his grandmother's Mexican restaurant washing dishes. He became friendly with the restaurant's bartender and this gave Mando access to all the booze he could want. It was the 60's and Mando was also known to indulge in other methods of getting high. Even so, Ramos was outclassing professional boxers in gym workouts and Junior decided it was time to hook his brother up with a top trainer.
Junior Ramos contacted Jackie McCoy, a former bantamweight contender who had fought Manuel Ortiz in the late 40's. McCoy was one of the best manager/trainers in boxing and had helped guide Don Jordan to the welterweight title in the late 50's. McCoy had heard of the kid but wanted to see for himself. What he saw convinced him that Mando Ramos was something special.
McCoy had a featherweight scheduled to fight in a main event the following week and he put the 16-year-old Ramos in with his boxer for a sparring match. Ramos knocked McCoy's fighter out in the opening round. McCoy was excited about what he saw and called his partner, Lee Praila, and told him to meet him at the gym the next day to discuss future plans for their new prospect.
McCoy went to work and fine tuned Ramos' natural talent, molding him into a boxer that was too good for the amateurs in Los Angeles, or anywhere else for that matter. Amateur boxers would not fight Mando and it was decided that in the best interest of Ramos he should turn professional. McCoy wanted Mando to concentrate on boxing and keep him away from the bad influence of his friends.
However, there was one problem. The California State Athletic Commission required a boxer to be 18-years-old to get a professional boxing license. Mando wasn't yet seventeen. McCoy feared that with no amateur competition, Ramos' career might succumb to his love of women and the party scene before it ever had a chance to get off the ground.
McCoy had a long talk with Mando and the skinny teenager promised to buckle down and work if given the opportunity to fight pro. With the help of a phony birth certificate, Mando Ramos made his professional boxing debut just two days after his 17th birthday.
Armando Ramos had his first pro fight at the Olympic Auditorium on November 17, 1965. In a one-sided match Ramos won a unanimous four round decision over Berlin Roberts. Two weeks later he KO'ed tough Chuey Loera in the second round and the fans were already taking notice of the talented kid from Long Beach. Ramos was nearly 5'10" and weighed 126 pounds. He was also strikingly handsome and became a favorite of the Los Angeles boxing fans watching in person or on TV.
Ramos had only been seen in two pro fights but Aileen Eaton was already getting letters from fans requesting to see more of this kid. Mando would start 1966 with three consecutive knockouts followed by a unanimous decision over Bosco Basileo in a six rounder.
Ramos was 6-0 with 4 knockouts when McCoy and Eaton decided to put him in his first ten round main event. His opponent would be a tough veteran named Joey Aquilar. The Olympic Auditorium, which held nearly 11,000 fans, was packed for Ramos' main event debut which was being broadcast live on television. Everybody thought that Ramos was amazing for an 18-year-old and had no idea that he was only seventeen. Ramos battered Aquilar, knocking the tough Mexican down three times before referee George Latka stopped the fight in the eighth round. A star was born.
Two weeks later Ramos headlined again at the Olympic and knocked out Ray Coleman in the 6th round. Two weeks later he iced Manny Linson in two rounds. By the end of 1966 Ramos was 14-0 (10 KO's) and ready to take another step up the ladder in the featherweight division.
Ramos was now an established main eventer and could sell out the Olympic within a few days of announcing that he was scheduled to fight. Eaton would no longer televise Ramos' fights. Mando's fights would now follow a televised ten rounder and if you wanted to see Ramos fight you would have to drive down to the Olympic and buy a ticket. And this is exactly what people
did.
Mando quickly became one of the biggest box-office attractions in the history of Los Angeles boxing. His popularity was being compared with L.A.'s last box office Golden Boy, Art Aragon from the 50's. It was about this time that the press discovered that L.A.'s newest Golden Boy had only just turned eighteen, making his success even more incredible.
Two months after Mando's 18th birthday he packed the Olympic Auditorium when he took on his first world rated opponent, unbeaten Ray Echevarria. Echevarria was the California Featherweight Champion and rated among the top ten featherweights in the world by the Ring Magazine.
Ramos out boxed, out punched and completely out fought the tough Echevarria, winning a unanimous ten round decision. Two months later Ramos would face another tough test in veteran Pete Gonzales, whom had beaten some of the best in the world and was also rated in the top ten by The Ring. Ramos again showed
his stuff and won a unanimous ten round decision over Gonzales.
Mando was growing and could no longer make 126 pounds. In his next bout he would move up into the jr. lightweight class and take on unbeaten Len Kesey of Eugene, Oregon. Ramos easily knocked out Kesey in the fifth round with a brutal left hook to the liver. Now 17-0 (11 KO's) Ramos would face his biggest test to date in Korea's Suh Kang-IL.
Less than twenty months after his pro debut Ramos was eighteen years old and getting rich. everybody wanted to be close to Mando and he loved the attention, not to mention the women. It was no secret that Mando was keeping late hours and McCoy was upset. The fight with Suh Kang IL was scheduled just two weeks after Ramos' KO of Len Kesey and Mando was confident. So confident that he missed several workouts prior to the match and showed up at the gym once with a hangover.
Suh Kang IL held victories over two world champions and on July 6, 1967 he handed Mando Ramos his first loss as a professional. Two nights before the fight, Ramos had gotten so wasted at a 4th of July party that he was arrested for drunk driving on the way home. L.A.'s newest Golden Boy was no longer unbeaten.
The following month McCoy took Ramos to Sacramento where he KO'ed Alex Luna in two. Ramos returned to L.A. and a few weeks later knocked out Eliseo Estrada in five. Mando was growing into a lightweight but before getting much bigger, fans in Los Angeles were begging to see him fight another hot featherweight making a name for himself at the Olympic, "Irish" Frankie Crawford.
Crawford and Ramos were not strangers, as both worked out at the Jake Shugrue Gym near 78th & Hoover in South Central Los Angeles. they had started their pro careers within months of each other and were similar in build. Like Ramos, Crawford was a tall featherweight at 5'9" and was a knockout puncher. Another thing the two boxers had in common was natural ability and poor
training habits. In later years they would become stablemates when McCoy took over management of Crawford's career and the two fighters became friends. however, on October 5, 1967 the two brought no friendship into the Olympic Auditorium ring when the two met for the first of two great fights.
Mando had about an inch in height on Crawford and at the weigh-in came in nine pounds heavier, which is quite an advantage to a guy under 130 pounds. Before a sellout crowd of 10,500 fans, Frankie Crawford stepped on Ramos' toes, hit him low, thumbed him and opened cuts with head butts and elbows. I knew Crawford well and can guarantee you that Fritzie Zivic and Ace Hudkins had nothing on Frankie when it came to dirty fighting. However, Crawford beat him legit. It was Crawford who entered the ring in better shape and who scored an upset decision victory over Ramos. I remember that Frankie had exhausted himself so much fighting the heavier Ramos, he was given oxygen in the dressing room after the match.
Ramos had lost for the second time in three months and this was a loss that Mando would have to avenge or forever hold his peace. Mando turned nineteen a month after losing to Crawford and three months later, on February 1, 1968 he'd meet Crawford again in a rematch. Mando entered the ring in shape this time and won a unanimous decision over Crawford. Mando Ramos was now ready to get back on the road that would lead him to a world title.
A few months after beating Crawford, Ramos would score his biggest win to date by defeating World Jr. Lightweight champ Hiroshi Kobayashi of Japan in a ten round non-title fight. Ramos beat Kobayashi easily and as a result was rated the number one lightweight in the world by The Ring Magazine.
Ramos was 19-years-old and in his next fight would face Carlos "Teo" Cruz for the World Lightweight Championship. If Ramos could beat Cruz he'd not only be the youngest boxer ever to win the lightweight title, but would do so as a teenager.
Cruz was a clever champion from the Dominican Republic who had won the title by defeating a great champion in Carlos Ortiz. Ramos trained hard for Cruz and I remember that Aileen Eaton would need more room to hold the fight than at the 10,500 seat Olympic Auditorium or the 15,000 seat Los Angeles Sports
Arena. Eaton held the Cruz-Ramos lightweight title fight at the Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum along with a World Featherweight Championship bout between Ramos' stablemate, WBA Featherweight Champ Raul Rojas and challenger Sho Saijyo.
Cruz opened cuts over both of Ramos' eyes and won a close decision after fifteen rounds, but it was obvious that Mando could beat Cruz. McCoy refused to let Ramos rest and wanted to keep him active. Mando had fought Cruz on even terms throughout much of the fight and Aileen Eaton signed Cruz to
give Ramos a second shot at the title four months later.
After scoring KO's in two tune-up matches, Ramos challenged Cruz once again for the lightweight title on February 18, 1969. This time it was Ramos who battered Cruz and opened cuts over both eyes of the champion. Referee John Thomas, on the advice of ringside physician Dr, Bernard Schwartz, stopped
the bout in the eleventh round. Three months after his 20th birthday, Armando Ramos became the youngest boxer in history to win the World Lightweight Championship.
Three months after winning the title Ramos KO'ed little known Jerry Graci in a non-title fight in Hawaii. He then returned to Los Angeles for the first defense of his title, knocking out newly crowned Jr. Lightweight Champ Yoshiaki Numata of Japan in the seventh round at the L.A. Sports Arena.
On March 3, 1970, Ramos would defend his title for the second time against former Lightweight Champ Ismael Laguna of Panama. During the five months between his first title defense against Numata and the Laguna fight, Ramos had enjoyed all the perks of being a world champion. It was obvious from the
opening round that Mando Ramos was not ready for the skilled Panamanian. By the ninth round Mando was cut to ribbons and bleeding from cuts over both eyes. On the advice of ringside physician Dr. Bernard Schwartz, referee Larry Rozadilla stopped the fight. Laguna had taken the title from Ramos just
over a year later he had won it.
At the age of 21, Ramos had already won and lost the Lightweight Championship. It would be more than five months before Ramos would step into the ring again, and when he did, he faced former Featherweight Champ Sugar Ramos. Sugar Ramos had been fighting in the lightweight division since losing the featherweight title to Vicente Saldivar six years previous.
Ramos and Ramos engaged in one of the bloodiest battles I have ever seen. In the end it was Mando's fight but he left the ring with major cuts over both eyes. A couple of weeks later he underwent plastic surgery to remove the scar tissue in hopes that it would prolong his ring career.
After giving his skin four months to heal, Ramos would engage in a fight that was as important to him personally as it was professionally. He would be matched with his former stablemate Raul Rojas. Rojas was the former WBA Featherweight & Jr. Lightweight Champion and his criticism of Ramos was making headlines in Los Angeles sports pages. Mando trained harder than ever for this match.
On December 10, 1970 Ramos and Rojas would fight before a sellout crowd at the Olympic Auditorium. The match would be the highlight of an all-star card that also featured Frankie Crawford, welterweight prospect Armando Muniz and myself in a six round TV prelim.
I remember the weigh-in for this fight. It was at 11am. on the day of the match (today weigh-ins are held the night before a fight). All of the boxers were weighed-in on a scale set up inside the ring at the Olympic Auditorium. Frankie Crawford stepped onto the scale right after I was weighed and as we left the ring I asked Frankie about Mando's conditioning. Crawford said he's
never seen Mando in better shape and that he was going to destroy Rojas.
That night I opened the show with a unanimous decision win over Antonio Villanueva. In the next bout Armando Muniz remained unbeaten with a KO win. In the televised main event Frankie Crawford knocked out Jose Luis Martinez with a late blow that landed a second after the final bell. After Crawford's controversial win, Ramos and Rojas entered the ring.
The odds favored Ramos slightly but Rojas was a tough former world champ and there was bad blood between the two. In the sixth round, Ramos caught Rojas with a solid left hook flush on the jaw that put his former stablemate to sleep. Referee Dick Young didn't even bother to count.
Ismael Laguna had lost his lightweight championship to Ken Buchanan of Scotland. After Ramos KO'ed Rojas promoter Aileen Eaton signed Buchanan to defend his title against Ramos. The bout was scheduled for the Los Angeles Sports arena on February 12, 1971. I was also signed to fight on the undercard of the Buchanan-Ramos fight and would serve as a Buchanan sparring partner briefly. Less than a week prior to the fight Ramos pulled out claiming to have been injured in the gym. This would cost promoter Aileen Eaton a great deal of money and she was fortunate to get my stablemate Ruben Navarro to substitute for Ramos. Navarro was training for a fight the following month with Jimmy Robertson and was not quite in condition for a fifteen rounder. However, Navarro ended up flooring Buchanan before losing a close decision.
This was not the first time that Ramos had pulled out of an important match claiming to be injured or sick. Mando's problem had nothing to do with injury, it had to do with heroin addiction. Mando's party habits had taken control of his life was destroying his career.
Mando didn't fight again for another nine months and when he did I appeared on the undercard of that match as well. It was September 30, 1971 and Ramos would face my stablemate Ruben Navarro at the Olympic Auditorium. The winner of this match was guaranteed a shot at the vacant WBC Lightweight
Championship against Spain's Pedro Carrasco.
Mando had his hands full with Navarro and at the end of ten rounds the crowd was aware that Navarro had beaten Ramos. However, the judges saw it different and awarded Ramos a narrow split decision win.
Two months later Ramos would fight Carrasco in Spain for the WBC title but end up losing on disqualification in the 12th round after beating the Spanish fighter handily. Three months later a rematch would be held in Los Angeles and Ramos would win the title via a unanimous fifteen round decision. Mando had trained very hard for this match and looked the best I had seen him since
flattening Raul Rojas.
I remember driving Frankie Crawford to Mando's apartment in Belmont Shores a few weeks before this fight. Crawford and I had stopped in to visit Mando and the former champ was really focused. On the door to his refrigerator he had a photo of Carrasco set in the middle of a target. Mando's focus paid
off and Mando was once again a World Champion.
Ramos would defeat Carrassco a second time four months later and then signed to defend his title against Mexican Lightweight Champ Chango Carmona.
Between the last Carrassco fight and the Carmona fight, Ramos had fallen back on his old ways. After Ramos had pulled out of the Buchanan match the previous year, Aileen Eaton had a clause inserted into any contract with Ramos stating that if he were to pull out of the match for any reason he would be liable for a minimum of $50,000. to Eaton.
Less than a week before the Carmona match, Ramos was found early one morning laying half naked in the sand near his Belmont shores apartment. Mando had overdosed on heroin. the press never got word of this and I only heard it thru mutual friends. Mando Ramos was truly sick, however, he would have to honor his contract and go thru with the fight.
On September 15, 1972, Mando Ramos lost the WBC Lightweight Championship at the Los Angeles Coliseum and nearly lost his life. Carmona battered Ramos before knocking him out in the eighth round. Ramos could not make it to his feet following the knockout and had to be taken from the ring in a stretcher. The magic career of Mando Ramos was history.
It would be nearly a year before Ramos would fight again and when he did he was knocked out by Turi Pineda, a fighter that would not have lasted three rounds with Ramos in the past.
In 1974 Ramos headed to Germany where he won three fights in two weeks, before being KO'ed twice by Wolfgang Gans, a second rate German welterweight. He then went to Las Vegas where he was granted a license and lost a ten rounder to a prelim fighter with a losing record. After scoring a couple of close victories Mando Ramos fought Wayne Beale in what would be his last professional fight. Beale had a losing record and was somebody I had beaten easily a few years previous as an amateur. Beale knocked out Ramos in the second round.
Mando disappeared from sight for some time. Every once in awhile I would hear something about Ramos and it was never good. I was told he was strung out pretty bad and was homeless. I also heard that Mando's older brother Junior had died from a heroin overdose.
Then one day I heard that Mando had found himself and had been able to put together some clean time. He was said to be working in San Pedro as a long shoreman and had organized a youth boxing program called "B.A.A.D." - Boxers & Athletes Against Drugs.
About this time four years ago I was working as a lighting technician on the film "CON AIR". One day Carlos Palomino had come to visit some friends of his that were working on the set. I recognized Carlos and noticed that he had brought a friend with him. I didn't recognize the friend but there was something very familiar about him. I could tell the guy had been a fighter and noticed the guy was staring at me. In fact, I was staring at him and it appeared as if he were trying to remember my face. I finally got a chance to break away from my work and went over to say Hi to Carlos. As Palomino and I shook hands his friend stands up and extends his hand to me. He said "Hi, I'm Mando Ramos".
I would have never recognized Mando. He looked great but was a lot heavier than he used to be and had a mustache. I said "Mando, I'm Rick Farris . . . I didn't recognize you". We both began to laugh and tell old stories. We talked about the Olympic and our old friend Frankie Crawford who had died in the early 80's. Seeing Ramos made my day. What really made me happy was hearing that he had been clean & sober for more than a dozen years. He was happily married and life was in session again for Mando Ramos. Around his neck he had a gold chain with the letters "MR. BADD" inscribed on a charm. Mando told me that his young boxers had presented it to him as a Christmas
present the previous year in recognition of his program.
During the time Mando and Palomino were on the set, I watched people walk up to Carlos and introduce him as the former Welterweight champ. Carlos had done work in the film industry and was well known. I was shocked that nobody even looked at Ramos until Palomino and I told people who it was. Suddenly,
Mando Ramos fans appeared from everywhere. People would walk onto the set from other stages after hearing that Mando Ramos was on the lot. If I was unable to recognize Ramos after all the years it's understandable why other didn't either. But once they found out who it was he was the most popular thing on stage, more so than Palomino or Nicolas Cage.
That was the Mando Ramos I remember. Mando's career is long down the road but I have to tell you he still has that charisma. Mando Ramos has come off the canvas and proven himself a champion in life.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Saturday, September 5, 2009
From The Sports Illustrated Vault.
December 19, 1960
Norris' Last Stand
The sordid details of the Jim Norris-Frankie Carbo alliance that ruled boxing for a decade were verified in Washington
Gilbert Rogin
When James D. Norris, wearing a somber tan and a funeral suit, came last week to Room 318 of the old Senate Office Building in Washington, where Senator Kefauver's Subcommittee on Antitrust and Monopoly was conducting hearings on professional boxing, he walked with the reluctant step of a man approaching the gallows. Indeed, the jig was up. In Room 318, once the floodlit forum of the Army-McCarthy hearings, a noose of testimony had been drawn by Truman K. Gibson Jr., Norris' associate in the International Boxing Club, and Hymie (The Mink) Wallman, one of the most prominent managers of the '50s, which certified and reinforced in damning detail what had been known for years: that practically every significant boxing match in the U.S. during the last decade had been controlled, to their mutual benefit, by IBC President Norris and his convincer and expediter, Hoodlum Frankie Carbo. As Jack (Doc) Kearns, manager of Archie Moore, had said: "Norris and Carbo run everything in boxing, and when they feel like it, they throw you a bone every once in a while."
With bemused candor, Gibson, who has the sincerity of a used-car dealer and the aplomb of one of those out-of-focus gents in a perfume ad, had testified that the IBC knowingly dealt with managers and promoters who were either very close to or controlled by Carbo. The distinction was Gibson's. The list included almost every promoter of note and a formidable majority of the successful managers: such men as Lou Viscusi, manager of Lightweight Champion Joe Brown; Willie (The Undertaker) Ketchum, manager of Featherweight Champion Davey Moore; and John DeJohn and Joe Netro, co-managers of Carmen Basilio.
Gibson's rather flimsy excuse was that the IBC was "confronted with the facts of life" and that it decided "to live with Carbo" to "maintain a free flow of fighters without interference."
It developed, however, that the IBC was not only blandly willing to accept Carbo, who has been arrested five times for murder and is now serving a sentence for undercover managing and matchmaking in New York; it went out of its way to court his favor. A subsidiary of the IBC employed, on Norris' request, one Viola Masters, or Mrs. Frankie Carbo, to the tune of some $45,000 over a three-year period. This was to obtain her husband's "good will" and, as Gibson testified, "for the effect that it would have on the fighters and managers with whom he was friendly."
Jack Bonomi, the exceedingly able subcommittee special counsel, asked Gibson why Mrs. Carbo was hired instead of Frankie. "Because," Gibson glumly replied, "it looked...better on our record, not even considering the possibility of being called before a Senate investigating committee, to have Viola Masters down instead of Frank Carbo." Wallman, who told the subcommittee that he had known Carbo "for about 38 years," or since he was known as Jimmy the Wop (Senator Kefauver: "Spell that." Mr. Wallman: "W-o-p."), was even more thorough in describing how Carbo and Norris colluded to control boxing.
Wallman, an aggrieved 59-year-old furrier with a wistful lack of memory who, after two days of testimony, begged the subcommittee to let him go home because he had run out of suits, shirts and underwear ("laughter"), testified that he bought the contract of former welterweight champion Johnny Bratton following a conference with Norris, Carbo and Gibson, the money being loaned by the IBC. He testified, too, that Billy Brown, who was the IBC matchmaker in Madison Square Garden from 1952 to '58, was a Carbo man and that almost all of the IBC fights in New York were arranged by Carbo "through his matchmaker"; and also that if Carbo told the IBC or Norris that he didn't want Hymie to get a fight Wallman's chances of obtaining one would be "zero."
Particularly revealing was Carbo's role in the Orlando Zulueta-Joe Brown lightweight title fight several years back. Hymie managed Zulueta, and he asked Lou Viscusi, Brown's manager, if he would agree to a fight. Viscusi said he would if he could get a promoter "with plenty of money." Wallman sought out Joe Dupler, a Denver promoter, who said he would take the match. Wallman then consulted Carbo. Carbo told him: "The furrier [Dupler] wants the fight; I want $5,000 for the fight." Dupler instructed Wallman to withdraw $5,000 from a New York account of Dupler's and give it to Tex Pelte, the bagman. Carbo subsequently told Wallman that Pelte had given him the $5,000. Before the fight, Carbo told Wallman: "I never bothered you until now but if the kid [Zulueta] wins the championship... Lou Viscusi gets a piece of the fighter."
There was also sworn testimony, included as an exhibit, that Wallman informed Carbo, for betting purposes, whenever Wallman "had a judge or referee who would favor your fighter...."
An intriguing and revelatory bit of testimony concerned a meeting on Feb. 10, 1958 at Wallman's home in New York. In attendance were Carbo, Denver Matchmaker Jimmy White, Billy Brown and Jim Norris. Wallman described the meeting:
"We sat down and we had one or two drinks, and they started in... They started talking about Logart [Isaac, who was to fight Virgil Akins in an elimination tournament to determine a new welterweight champion]. With that Jimmy White opened up his mouth and he says, '...He [Logart's manager] promised me to take the fight to Denver.' Norris, on the other hand, said, 'No, we need the match.'... Carbo, on the other hand, started to argue with Norris, 'Well, let them go wherever they can get more money.' So Norris says to him, 'No, we need the match in here....' Then Jimmy [White] got sore and walked out.... The discussion came about where they wanted to eliminate Martinez altogether [Vince, a welterweight, who was also in the elimination tournament with Logart and Akins]. He [ Carbo] says...'I don't like the fighter Martinez.... All I have to do is pull out Akins and you ain't even got a match....' So Norris [says], 'What is going on here?...' So Carbo [says], 'Now, look, I am telling you right now, unless Logart fights Akins there will be no match altogether. Akins will go out. I'm pulling him out....' "
What Jim faced
This then, in substance, was the testimony which confronted Norris when he appeared before the subcommittee. Because he has a delicate heart (he has had two strokes), Norris was permitted to testify in executive, or closed, session. It was of little comfort, however, for no longer could he hide behind the perjured testimony he had given the New York State Athletic Commission in May 1955:
"Q. 'Have you ever discussed with Mr. Carbo fights or fighters?'
"A. 'No.' "
Norris is not subject to prosecution for perjury because of the statute of limitations, but last week, in response to Bonomi's vigorous questioning, Norris grudgingly admitted that his 1955 testimony "isn't 100% true.... I have to admit that."
To which Senator Kefauver acidly added: "It sounds to me like it is 100% untrue...."
Norris admitted, too, that, "I believe I mentioned to Frank Carbo that possibly he might have some suggestions as to how some of these problems [in boxing] might be eased for my organization [the IBC]"; that Carbo's relationship was "a reluctant one that in some ways I sought out to develop"; and, most significantly, that Al Weill, Rocky Marciano's manager, who was the matchmaker in New York before Billy Brown, was "very friendly" with Frankie Carbo; and that Marciano did not fight Harry Matthews in 1952 until Carbo told Weill to.
On the second day of Norris' testimony he admitted that Carbo acted as the "convincer" in lining up Jake LaMotta, Carmen Basilio, Willie Pep and Tony DeMarco, for IBC matches; that he had seen Carbo when he was a fugitive from justice; and that the IBC may well have paid travel expenses for various state commissioners to attend IBC fights, including Julius Helfand, currently a member of the New York boxing commission, and formerly its chairman.
Whose fighter?
Another matter which Bonomi questioned Norris about was Norris' well-publicized statement that the heavyweight Sonny Liston was his fighter. Norris explained that Liston was his fighter in the sense that he was pushing, building up Liston as his candidate for the title. But after Norris bad finished, New York City Detective Anthony Bernhardt, who was an undercover man with the fight mob, recounted that in March of 1958 he overheard Carbo saying to Blinky Palermo, apparently concerning Liston: "... Jim Norris comes in with some guys, and Jim was upset. He says to me, 'Listen, he's my fighter.' "
Liston was brought up, too, in the course of interrogating two witnesses, both of whom took the Fifth Amendment: Frank Mitchell, who runs a Negro weekly in St. Louis, who has 26 arrests (no convictions other than speeding), and who trembled with incipient tears as, almost inaudibly, he recited the catechism of the Fifth; and John Vitale, identified as St. Louis' top hoodlum, who has 58 arrests, three convictions. Lieutenant Joseph A. Kuda of the St. Louis Police Department testified that Liston was divided up as follows: Vitale, 12%; Blinky Palermo, 12%; two others, unidentified, 12% each; Carbo, 52%. He said, furthermore, that Palermo, who managed former welterweight champion Johnny Saxton, is the custodian of Carbo's share while Frank is in the can and that Mitchell, who is Vitale's front, will become Liston's manager if he becomes champion. Liston's manager of record is one Joe (Pep) Barone.
As an interim epitaph to the investigation, which continued this week, listen to Carmen Basilio: "I was a fighter and I know the pains and labors that a fighter goes through, and those guys [ Carbo, et al.] were making money that they were not earning and did not deserve. There are ladies present here and in all respect to them I have to contain my inner feelings but I just do not have any respect for those fellows and they do not belong in boxing. The quicker we get those fellows out, the better it is going to be for the sport
Norris' Last Stand
The sordid details of the Jim Norris-Frankie Carbo alliance that ruled boxing for a decade were verified in Washington
Gilbert Rogin
When James D. Norris, wearing a somber tan and a funeral suit, came last week to Room 318 of the old Senate Office Building in Washington, where Senator Kefauver's Subcommittee on Antitrust and Monopoly was conducting hearings on professional boxing, he walked with the reluctant step of a man approaching the gallows. Indeed, the jig was up. In Room 318, once the floodlit forum of the Army-McCarthy hearings, a noose of testimony had been drawn by Truman K. Gibson Jr., Norris' associate in the International Boxing Club, and Hymie (The Mink) Wallman, one of the most prominent managers of the '50s, which certified and reinforced in damning detail what had been known for years: that practically every significant boxing match in the U.S. during the last decade had been controlled, to their mutual benefit, by IBC President Norris and his convincer and expediter, Hoodlum Frankie Carbo. As Jack (Doc) Kearns, manager of Archie Moore, had said: "Norris and Carbo run everything in boxing, and when they feel like it, they throw you a bone every once in a while."
With bemused candor, Gibson, who has the sincerity of a used-car dealer and the aplomb of one of those out-of-focus gents in a perfume ad, had testified that the IBC knowingly dealt with managers and promoters who were either very close to or controlled by Carbo. The distinction was Gibson's. The list included almost every promoter of note and a formidable majority of the successful managers: such men as Lou Viscusi, manager of Lightweight Champion Joe Brown; Willie (The Undertaker) Ketchum, manager of Featherweight Champion Davey Moore; and John DeJohn and Joe Netro, co-managers of Carmen Basilio.
Gibson's rather flimsy excuse was that the IBC was "confronted with the facts of life" and that it decided "to live with Carbo" to "maintain a free flow of fighters without interference."
It developed, however, that the IBC was not only blandly willing to accept Carbo, who has been arrested five times for murder and is now serving a sentence for undercover managing and matchmaking in New York; it went out of its way to court his favor. A subsidiary of the IBC employed, on Norris' request, one Viola Masters, or Mrs. Frankie Carbo, to the tune of some $45,000 over a three-year period. This was to obtain her husband's "good will" and, as Gibson testified, "for the effect that it would have on the fighters and managers with whom he was friendly."
Jack Bonomi, the exceedingly able subcommittee special counsel, asked Gibson why Mrs. Carbo was hired instead of Frankie. "Because," Gibson glumly replied, "it looked...better on our record, not even considering the possibility of being called before a Senate investigating committee, to have Viola Masters down instead of Frank Carbo." Wallman, who told the subcommittee that he had known Carbo "for about 38 years," or since he was known as Jimmy the Wop (Senator Kefauver: "Spell that." Mr. Wallman: "W-o-p."), was even more thorough in describing how Carbo and Norris colluded to control boxing.
Wallman, an aggrieved 59-year-old furrier with a wistful lack of memory who, after two days of testimony, begged the subcommittee to let him go home because he had run out of suits, shirts and underwear ("laughter"), testified that he bought the contract of former welterweight champion Johnny Bratton following a conference with Norris, Carbo and Gibson, the money being loaned by the IBC. He testified, too, that Billy Brown, who was the IBC matchmaker in Madison Square Garden from 1952 to '58, was a Carbo man and that almost all of the IBC fights in New York were arranged by Carbo "through his matchmaker"; and also that if Carbo told the IBC or Norris that he didn't want Hymie to get a fight Wallman's chances of obtaining one would be "zero."
Particularly revealing was Carbo's role in the Orlando Zulueta-Joe Brown lightweight title fight several years back. Hymie managed Zulueta, and he asked Lou Viscusi, Brown's manager, if he would agree to a fight. Viscusi said he would if he could get a promoter "with plenty of money." Wallman sought out Joe Dupler, a Denver promoter, who said he would take the match. Wallman then consulted Carbo. Carbo told him: "The furrier [Dupler] wants the fight; I want $5,000 for the fight." Dupler instructed Wallman to withdraw $5,000 from a New York account of Dupler's and give it to Tex Pelte, the bagman. Carbo subsequently told Wallman that Pelte had given him the $5,000. Before the fight, Carbo told Wallman: "I never bothered you until now but if the kid [Zulueta] wins the championship... Lou Viscusi gets a piece of the fighter."
There was also sworn testimony, included as an exhibit, that Wallman informed Carbo, for betting purposes, whenever Wallman "had a judge or referee who would favor your fighter...."
An intriguing and revelatory bit of testimony concerned a meeting on Feb. 10, 1958 at Wallman's home in New York. In attendance were Carbo, Denver Matchmaker Jimmy White, Billy Brown and Jim Norris. Wallman described the meeting:
"We sat down and we had one or two drinks, and they started in... They started talking about Logart [Isaac, who was to fight Virgil Akins in an elimination tournament to determine a new welterweight champion]. With that Jimmy White opened up his mouth and he says, '...He [Logart's manager] promised me to take the fight to Denver.' Norris, on the other hand, said, 'No, we need the match.'... Carbo, on the other hand, started to argue with Norris, 'Well, let them go wherever they can get more money.' So Norris says to him, 'No, we need the match in here....' Then Jimmy [White] got sore and walked out.... The discussion came about where they wanted to eliminate Martinez altogether [Vince, a welterweight, who was also in the elimination tournament with Logart and Akins]. He [ Carbo] says...'I don't like the fighter Martinez.... All I have to do is pull out Akins and you ain't even got a match....' So Norris [says], 'What is going on here?...' So Carbo [says], 'Now, look, I am telling you right now, unless Logart fights Akins there will be no match altogether. Akins will go out. I'm pulling him out....' "
What Jim faced
This then, in substance, was the testimony which confronted Norris when he appeared before the subcommittee. Because he has a delicate heart (he has had two strokes), Norris was permitted to testify in executive, or closed, session. It was of little comfort, however, for no longer could he hide behind the perjured testimony he had given the New York State Athletic Commission in May 1955:
"Q. 'Have you ever discussed with Mr. Carbo fights or fighters?'
"A. 'No.' "
Norris is not subject to prosecution for perjury because of the statute of limitations, but last week, in response to Bonomi's vigorous questioning, Norris grudgingly admitted that his 1955 testimony "isn't 100% true.... I have to admit that."
To which Senator Kefauver acidly added: "It sounds to me like it is 100% untrue...."
Norris admitted, too, that, "I believe I mentioned to Frank Carbo that possibly he might have some suggestions as to how some of these problems [in boxing] might be eased for my organization [the IBC]"; that Carbo's relationship was "a reluctant one that in some ways I sought out to develop"; and, most significantly, that Al Weill, Rocky Marciano's manager, who was the matchmaker in New York before Billy Brown, was "very friendly" with Frankie Carbo; and that Marciano did not fight Harry Matthews in 1952 until Carbo told Weill to.
On the second day of Norris' testimony he admitted that Carbo acted as the "convincer" in lining up Jake LaMotta, Carmen Basilio, Willie Pep and Tony DeMarco, for IBC matches; that he had seen Carbo when he was a fugitive from justice; and that the IBC may well have paid travel expenses for various state commissioners to attend IBC fights, including Julius Helfand, currently a member of the New York boxing commission, and formerly its chairman.
Whose fighter?
Another matter which Bonomi questioned Norris about was Norris' well-publicized statement that the heavyweight Sonny Liston was his fighter. Norris explained that Liston was his fighter in the sense that he was pushing, building up Liston as his candidate for the title. But after Norris bad finished, New York City Detective Anthony Bernhardt, who was an undercover man with the fight mob, recounted that in March of 1958 he overheard Carbo saying to Blinky Palermo, apparently concerning Liston: "... Jim Norris comes in with some guys, and Jim was upset. He says to me, 'Listen, he's my fighter.' "
Liston was brought up, too, in the course of interrogating two witnesses, both of whom took the Fifth Amendment: Frank Mitchell, who runs a Negro weekly in St. Louis, who has 26 arrests (no convictions other than speeding), and who trembled with incipient tears as, almost inaudibly, he recited the catechism of the Fifth; and John Vitale, identified as St. Louis' top hoodlum, who has 58 arrests, three convictions. Lieutenant Joseph A. Kuda of the St. Louis Police Department testified that Liston was divided up as follows: Vitale, 12%; Blinky Palermo, 12%; two others, unidentified, 12% each; Carbo, 52%. He said, furthermore, that Palermo, who managed former welterweight champion Johnny Saxton, is the custodian of Carbo's share while Frank is in the can and that Mitchell, who is Vitale's front, will become Liston's manager if he becomes champion. Liston's manager of record is one Joe (Pep) Barone.
As an interim epitaph to the investigation, which continued this week, listen to Carmen Basilio: "I was a fighter and I know the pains and labors that a fighter goes through, and those guys [ Carbo, et al.] were making money that they were not earning and did not deserve. There are ladies present here and in all respect to them I have to contain my inner feelings but I just do not have any respect for those fellows and they do not belong in boxing. The quicker we get those fellows out, the better it is going to be for the sport
Friday, September 4, 2009
Ricardo Mayorga sues Don king
By Edgar Gonzalez
By Christopher Norton of Law360, recently reported — The former welterweight champion boxer Ricardo Mayorga has socked sports promotion and management firms owned by Don King and son Carl King with a suit, alleging the companies have held Mayorga hostage to an unenforceable promotional agreement in violation of the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act.
The complaint, filed in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida on Tuesday, claims Don King Productions Inc., Carl King and his company Monarch Sports Management Inc. created a conflict of interest through DKP’s assignment of Carl King and MSM to be Mayorga’s managers in violation of the act, which requires a firewall between managers and promoters.
DKP took advantage of Mayorga’s lack of education and representation by an attorney loyal to DKP, forcing him to sign several disadvantageous agreements, the complaint says. DKP has failed to meet the most basic conditions of the current promotional agreement to make a bona fide offer to participate in three fights per year, the complaint says.
The promotional agreement in suit is the third such contract Mayorga and DKP have entered into, none of which have ever given Mayorga the number of matches he is entitled to, attorney for Mayorga Chad Purdie said Wednesday.
“Don King has one obligation only, and that’s to provide three boxing matches a year,” Purdie said. “And he didn’t even do that.”
As a result, Mayorga has been left destitute by the “gross breach of trust” committed by the very people that were supposed to look after his interests, and seeks to “be free from the shackles of an unscrupulous team of swindlers,” the complaint says.
“He’s not allowed to contract with anyone else because they’re afraid of tortious interference, they’re afraid of Don King,” Purdie said. “Even if it wasn’t the big bad Don King, they would be forcing Mr. Mayorga to break his contract.”
King told Law360 on Wednesday, “I love Ricardo Mayorga, but you have to understand this is how he is.”
The Nicaraguan-born Mayorga, who has been known to appear at post-fight conferences with a cigarette and a beer in hand, was the World Boxing Association and World Boxing Council welterweight champion from 2002 to 2003 and was later the junior middleweight champion.
During his amateur years he won the Nicaraguan National Championship and was the Central American Golden Gloves champion, according to the complaint.
Mayorga and DKP entered into the current promotional agreement in June 2008 for a term of three years, under which DKP was required to offer Mayorga the right to participate in at least three fights per year, the complaint says. DKP has only offered one fight to Mayorga since the start of the agreement, according to the complaint.
The purse for the first bout under the contract was set at a minimum of $400,000, while any future purses would be set at a minimum of $50,000 if Mayorga lost the first bout or any subsequent bouts, the complaint says.
No one explained to Mayorga any of the remedies he was relinquishing, the notice to cure provision or the ad hoc limitations period under the contract, nor did they state what he would be earning per bout if he lost the first fight, the complaint says.
Mayorga is seeking damages plus interest, costs and attorneys’ fees, according to the complaint.
Mayorga is represented by Diaz Reus LLP.
Counsel information for the defendants was not immediately available.
The case is Mayorga v. Don King Productions Inc. et al., case number 1:09-cv-22603, in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida.
By Christopher Norton of Law360, recently reported — The former welterweight champion boxer Ricardo Mayorga has socked sports promotion and management firms owned by Don King and son Carl King with a suit, alleging the companies have held Mayorga hostage to an unenforceable promotional agreement in violation of the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act.
The complaint, filed in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida on Tuesday, claims Don King Productions Inc., Carl King and his company Monarch Sports Management Inc. created a conflict of interest through DKP’s assignment of Carl King and MSM to be Mayorga’s managers in violation of the act, which requires a firewall between managers and promoters.
DKP took advantage of Mayorga’s lack of education and representation by an attorney loyal to DKP, forcing him to sign several disadvantageous agreements, the complaint says. DKP has failed to meet the most basic conditions of the current promotional agreement to make a bona fide offer to participate in three fights per year, the complaint says.
The promotional agreement in suit is the third such contract Mayorga and DKP have entered into, none of which have ever given Mayorga the number of matches he is entitled to, attorney for Mayorga Chad Purdie said Wednesday.
“Don King has one obligation only, and that’s to provide three boxing matches a year,” Purdie said. “And he didn’t even do that.”
As a result, Mayorga has been left destitute by the “gross breach of trust” committed by the very people that were supposed to look after his interests, and seeks to “be free from the shackles of an unscrupulous team of swindlers,” the complaint says.
“He’s not allowed to contract with anyone else because they’re afraid of tortious interference, they’re afraid of Don King,” Purdie said. “Even if it wasn’t the big bad Don King, they would be forcing Mr. Mayorga to break his contract.”
King told Law360 on Wednesday, “I love Ricardo Mayorga, but you have to understand this is how he is.”
The Nicaraguan-born Mayorga, who has been known to appear at post-fight conferences with a cigarette and a beer in hand, was the World Boxing Association and World Boxing Council welterweight champion from 2002 to 2003 and was later the junior middleweight champion.
During his amateur years he won the Nicaraguan National Championship and was the Central American Golden Gloves champion, according to the complaint.
Mayorga and DKP entered into the current promotional agreement in June 2008 for a term of three years, under which DKP was required to offer Mayorga the right to participate in at least three fights per year, the complaint says. DKP has only offered one fight to Mayorga since the start of the agreement, according to the complaint.
The purse for the first bout under the contract was set at a minimum of $400,000, while any future purses would be set at a minimum of $50,000 if Mayorga lost the first bout or any subsequent bouts, the complaint says.
No one explained to Mayorga any of the remedies he was relinquishing, the notice to cure provision or the ad hoc limitations period under the contract, nor did they state what he would be earning per bout if he lost the first fight, the complaint says.
Mayorga is seeking damages plus interest, costs and attorneys’ fees, according to the complaint.
Mayorga is represented by Diaz Reus LLP.
Counsel information for the defendants was not immediately available.
The case is Mayorga v. Don King Productions Inc. et al., case number 1:09-cv-22603, in the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of Florida.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Roach unable to reach Pacquiao
Michael Rosenthal from RingTv recently wrote:
If you run into Manny Pacquiao, tell him Freddie Roach would like to talk to him.
Roach, the pound-for-pound king’s Los Angeles-based trainer, can’t seem to reach his fighter in the Philippines even though his next fight -– against Miguel Cotto on Nov. 14 in Las Vegas –- is only 10 weeks away.
At issue is the location of their training camp. Pacquiao must train all but three weeks outside the United States for the bulk of camp to save on taxes. The question is: Where will they go?
“Well, I don’t know,” Roach said. “No one has contacted me. Mike Koncz [Pacquiao’s advisor] said, ‘You don’t have to talk to Freddie Roach. He’s just the trainer.’ If he wants to have that attitude, what can I do?”
Roach thinks camp will end up in the worst place possible.
“I have a camp set up in Toluca, Mexico,” he said. “I have an offer to go to Puerto Vallarta. I have an offer to go to Cancun. I have an offer to go to the Bahamas. I would say Toluca is the best option. It’s private, quiet, not a vacation-type of area. The gym is owned by the government. It’s a very safe place. A federal marshal works up there; he’d be with us the whole time. Security wouldn’t be a problem. And it’s not a dangerous place.
“My gut feeling, though, is that we’ll end up in the Philippines.”
Roach likes the Philippines. He just doesn’t want to train Pacquiao there.
“Wherever I get him, I’ll make sure he’s ready for the fight,” he said. “The thing is, there are a lot of distractions in the Philippines. One weekend, this governor will want to fly him here. The next weekend, another governor will want to fly him there. It’s just a hassle.
“Once I get Manny, though, he listens to me. As long as I’m in front of him. Right now I can’t talk to him on the phone. Unfortunately they’re [Koncz] is blocking my phone calls.”
Roach did talk to Koncz.
“I said, ‘Where are we training?’” he said. “‘I haven’t asked Manny yet,’ he told me. I said, ‘You haven’t asked him? What do you mean? The fight is right around the corner and you haven’t asked him yet.’ He’s scared to ask him where he wants to train.
“Manny will make a decision. I think it’ll be in Baguio, where their Olympic training center is. It’s in the north. I’ve never been there but it doesn’t’ matter. Wherever we go there’ll be distractions.”
The indecision couldn’t have come at a worse time. Roach was asked how tough this fight will be.
“The toughest fight of Manny’s life,” he said. “Cotto is getting ready for this fight. He’s in camp already. He knows a win over Manny Pacquiao erases everything else in the past. That’s why he’s in camp early, getting into shape. This guy beat Shane Mosley, a speed guy. He knows how to nullify speed. Someone told me Cotto’s not fast enough. I said, ‘What do you mean he’s not fast enough? He beat Shane Mosley.’ It was a good, close fight but he won. He knows how to deal with speed.
“He’s taking this very serious. We have to respect that. If I could just get a hold of Manny and tell him Cotto’s in camp already, he’d be there today. Manny won’t let anyone out train him. That’s how he is.”
Roach is hoping Manny gets the word somehow.
“That’s why I’m mouthing off a little bit with (reporters),” he said. “Hopefully he’ll read something. This is the real deal. Cotto is better than Oscar De La Hoya, better than Ricky Hatton. He’s the biggest, strongest guy we’ve ever fought.”
Rest In Peace, Joey Roach
By George Kimball
THE SWEET SCIENCE - SUNDAY, AUGUST 30, 2009
"Listen, I got a story for ya!" Anthony (Rip) Valenti sounded excited, but that wasn't unusual.
Every time the octogenarian boxing promoter called to relay the details of his latest project there were two things I could count on him telling me. One was that this was the biggest story yet. The other was "Ya gotta get this in the paper right away, 'cause I ain't giving it to nobody else -- yet."
By the early summer of 1982 I'd been dealing with Rip for a while, so I knew enough to listen to what he had to say before I phoned the composing room with orders to stop the presses.
"Never happened before in the history of the Boston Garden," I could hear him saying on the other end. "All three of them!"
"All three of them?" I asked. "Don't tell me. You've got Magda, Eva and Zsa Zsa coming to Boston?"
"Naw. The Roach kids," he said. "Freddie, Pepper and Joey. They're all gonna be back here, and fight on the same card."
As amateurs, the three brothers had achieved almost legendary status in New England boxing circles, winning everything from Silver Mittens to Golden Gloves titles. Even their mother had followed them into the family business. When her sons headed out West to turn pro, Barbara Roach underwent a seamless transition from AAU volunteer to professional judge. At a time when female judges were a rarity, she was already the best in Massachusetts -- of either gender.
Freddie, the oldest, had just turned 22. He had turned pro at 18, signed on with Eddie Futch, and moved to Phoenix, later relocating with the Hall of Fame trainer to Vegas. Rip had continued to nurture a relationship with Freddie. In January of '81 he brought him back to the Garden, where on the undercard of the first Hagler-Obelmejias fight he beat Joe Phillips to win the New England featherweight title that had once belonged to Willie Pep. A month later he'd flown Freddie and Futch back for a headline performance on an ESPN card he staged at the old Hotel Bradford Ballroom, the site of today's Roxy.
By early '82 his brothers had followed Freddie to Las Vegas. Pepper had already had a couple of fights that spring. If memory serves, Rip had hoped to have 20 year-old Joey turn pro on his Boston show in June, but Joey beat him to the punch and made his debut in Vegas a couple of weeks earlier, fighting a guy named Alex Silva to a draw at the Showboat.
Although they enjoyed something of a local following, Rip Valenti didn't think for a moment that the three Roach brothers were going to fill the Boston Garden. Back in those days big fights were routinely shown on closed-circuit television, and in boxing venues like the old Causeway Street building were often augmented by live cards that might attract a few thousand extra customers.
Larry Holmes was defending his heavyweight title against Gerry Cooney at Caesars Palace that night. Joey, fighting as a pro for just the second time, made short work of Joe Vanier, knocking him out in the first round. Pepper did his part, outpointing Jaime Rodriguez in the six-round co-feature. But in the main event, Freddie, who had come into the bout 26-1, had his problems with Rafael Lopez, a decent prospect from Pawtucket, and wound up on the wrong end of a unanimous decision.
It was the first and last time the Roaches ever fought together on the same bill, though they came close: On Nov. 10, 1983, Marvelous Marvin Hagler won a come-from-behind decision over Roberto Duran at Caesars. Joey Roach fought a six-round draw with Manny Cedeno in one of the undercard bouts, while Freddie dropped a 10-round decision to his old nemesis Louie Burke in another. Pepper didn't fight that night because he had a scheduled bout at the Showboat a week later.
Pep had by some accounts been the more promising amateur, but by the time he turned pro he seemed to have lost interest. He retired after less than two years as a professional with a 7-2-1 record.
Joey Roach's amateur career had begun memorably, if inauspiciously, ten years earlier at an outdoor arena in Lynn, where he was matched against another Massachusetts 10 year-old named Micky Ward in the 50-pound class. Nobody emerged with bragging rights that evening. A thunderstorm blew in across the harbor and the bout was rained out midway through the second round.
Joey, though, shared the same card with Freddie on several other occasions. The handwriting may have been on the wall in late 1985 when, at the Hollywood Palladium, he faced '84 gold medalist Paul Gonzales. Joey had lost just one of ten fights, while Gonzales was fighting for just the second time as a pro, but the Olympian won eight of eight rounds on all three cards. The next year he got knocked out by a guy (Mauro Diaz) who was 1-7-1. He never boxed again, finishing up 8-3-3.
An ESPN fixture from the network's inception, Freddie was a popular draw, but as has been well documented since, he spurned Futch's advice and overstayed his welcome, continuing to fight until 1986. He finished with a record of 39-15, but the fights he engaged in over those last couple of years may well have sown the seeds of the Parkinson's Disease he would encounter later in life.
The brothers remained close even after going their separate ways. As has been recounted in painful detail elsewhere, they had shared not only their boxing experiences, but an abusive childhood at the hands of their father as well. Paul Roach might have been the driving force in turning his kids into successful boxers, but by most accounts he wasn't averse to using each of them as punching bags along the way.
One can only assume that there were some lively scraps around the Roach household while the three were sharing their boyhood home in Dedham, but they loved one another as only brothers can.
While Freddie and I saw one another regularly over the years, I occasionally ran into Joey and Pepper too. The first time I saw Joey after he'd stopped boxing he grinned and told me he was working as a telemarketer.
"Who'd buy anything from you? Over the phone?" I kidded him.
That's how much I knew.
Once he stopped boxing Freddie worked as an assistant trainer under Futch, and then, after Eddie's automobile accident, took over as head trainer for a few of his boxers. Next thing you knew he was the head trainer for a couple of world champions, and was regarded as one of the bright young minds in the business.
It was along about that time that Freddie told me Joey had so taken to the telemarketing business that he'd quit his job and started his own telemarketing company.
"I can't believe it," said Freddie. "He's making more money than I am."
Barbara Roach eventually moved to Las Vegas and into the house Freddie had built there. Once Freddie's base of operations became the Wild Card Gym in Hollywood (where he was eventually joined by Pepper), she remained in Vegas, where Joey could look after their mother the way she'd always looked after them.
Just as Freddie went on to become a superstar in his field, so did Joey in his. Freddie won three Trainer of the Year Awards (and already has a leg up on a fourth), but Joey was pulling down million-dollar purses even before Freddie was. He employed over a hundred workers at his telemarketing firm, and owned so many cars he could pick his ride of the day by color-coordinating it with his clothes. He had two college-age kids by his first marriage, and there was no way in hell either of them was ever going near a boxing ring.
A few weeks ago he had told Freddie it was time to relax and enjoy life. He planned to sell his business and retire by the end of 2009.
Last week Joey and his wife Jacqueline returned from a family vacation in Michigan. On Saturday morning Jackie woke up, and when she looked at her husband in the bed beside her, the first thing she noticed was that he had turned a ghastly shade of blue. Joey Roach had, at the age of 47, died in his sleep. Although the cause of death has yet to be determined pending an autopsy, a heart attack is suspected.
It was left to Barbara Roach to break the news to Freddie and Pepper. Freddie, who had been training Manny Pacquiao for his Nov. 14 date with Miguel Cotto, immediately suspended camp.
"She's trying to be a trouper, and Freddie is trying to be strong," said a close family friend. "But you know how close they all were. You can imagine how hard this has hit them."
Arrangements have yet to be finalized pending the autopsy, and while there's no indication Joey had the slightest reason to suspect that his days might be numbered, he had recently addressed the subject in terms that some might find surprising.
"When my time comes," Joey had said, "I think I'd like to be buried back in Boston -- next to my father."
THE SWEET SCIENCE - SUNDAY, AUGUST 30, 2009
"Listen, I got a story for ya!" Anthony (Rip) Valenti sounded excited, but that wasn't unusual.
Every time the octogenarian boxing promoter called to relay the details of his latest project there were two things I could count on him telling me. One was that this was the biggest story yet. The other was "Ya gotta get this in the paper right away, 'cause I ain't giving it to nobody else -- yet."
By the early summer of 1982 I'd been dealing with Rip for a while, so I knew enough to listen to what he had to say before I phoned the composing room with orders to stop the presses.
"Never happened before in the history of the Boston Garden," I could hear him saying on the other end. "All three of them!"
"All three of them?" I asked. "Don't tell me. You've got Magda, Eva and Zsa Zsa coming to Boston?"
"Naw. The Roach kids," he said. "Freddie, Pepper and Joey. They're all gonna be back here, and fight on the same card."
As amateurs, the three brothers had achieved almost legendary status in New England boxing circles, winning everything from Silver Mittens to Golden Gloves titles. Even their mother had followed them into the family business. When her sons headed out West to turn pro, Barbara Roach underwent a seamless transition from AAU volunteer to professional judge. At a time when female judges were a rarity, she was already the best in Massachusetts -- of either gender.
Freddie, the oldest, had just turned 22. He had turned pro at 18, signed on with Eddie Futch, and moved to Phoenix, later relocating with the Hall of Fame trainer to Vegas. Rip had continued to nurture a relationship with Freddie. In January of '81 he brought him back to the Garden, where on the undercard of the first Hagler-Obelmejias fight he beat Joe Phillips to win the New England featherweight title that had once belonged to Willie Pep. A month later he'd flown Freddie and Futch back for a headline performance on an ESPN card he staged at the old Hotel Bradford Ballroom, the site of today's Roxy.
By early '82 his brothers had followed Freddie to Las Vegas. Pepper had already had a couple of fights that spring. If memory serves, Rip had hoped to have 20 year-old Joey turn pro on his Boston show in June, but Joey beat him to the punch and made his debut in Vegas a couple of weeks earlier, fighting a guy named Alex Silva to a draw at the Showboat.
Although they enjoyed something of a local following, Rip Valenti didn't think for a moment that the three Roach brothers were going to fill the Boston Garden. Back in those days big fights were routinely shown on closed-circuit television, and in boxing venues like the old Causeway Street building were often augmented by live cards that might attract a few thousand extra customers.
Larry Holmes was defending his heavyweight title against Gerry Cooney at Caesars Palace that night. Joey, fighting as a pro for just the second time, made short work of Joe Vanier, knocking him out in the first round. Pepper did his part, outpointing Jaime Rodriguez in the six-round co-feature. But in the main event, Freddie, who had come into the bout 26-1, had his problems with Rafael Lopez, a decent prospect from Pawtucket, and wound up on the wrong end of a unanimous decision.
It was the first and last time the Roaches ever fought together on the same bill, though they came close: On Nov. 10, 1983, Marvelous Marvin Hagler won a come-from-behind decision over Roberto Duran at Caesars. Joey Roach fought a six-round draw with Manny Cedeno in one of the undercard bouts, while Freddie dropped a 10-round decision to his old nemesis Louie Burke in another. Pepper didn't fight that night because he had a scheduled bout at the Showboat a week later.
Pep had by some accounts been the more promising amateur, but by the time he turned pro he seemed to have lost interest. He retired after less than two years as a professional with a 7-2-1 record.
Joey Roach's amateur career had begun memorably, if inauspiciously, ten years earlier at an outdoor arena in Lynn, where he was matched against another Massachusetts 10 year-old named Micky Ward in the 50-pound class. Nobody emerged with bragging rights that evening. A thunderstorm blew in across the harbor and the bout was rained out midway through the second round.
Joey, though, shared the same card with Freddie on several other occasions. The handwriting may have been on the wall in late 1985 when, at the Hollywood Palladium, he faced '84 gold medalist Paul Gonzales. Joey had lost just one of ten fights, while Gonzales was fighting for just the second time as a pro, but the Olympian won eight of eight rounds on all three cards. The next year he got knocked out by a guy (Mauro Diaz) who was 1-7-1. He never boxed again, finishing up 8-3-3.
An ESPN fixture from the network's inception, Freddie was a popular draw, but as has been well documented since, he spurned Futch's advice and overstayed his welcome, continuing to fight until 1986. He finished with a record of 39-15, but the fights he engaged in over those last couple of years may well have sown the seeds of the Parkinson's Disease he would encounter later in life.
The brothers remained close even after going their separate ways. As has been recounted in painful detail elsewhere, they had shared not only their boxing experiences, but an abusive childhood at the hands of their father as well. Paul Roach might have been the driving force in turning his kids into successful boxers, but by most accounts he wasn't averse to using each of them as punching bags along the way.
One can only assume that there were some lively scraps around the Roach household while the three were sharing their boyhood home in Dedham, but they loved one another as only brothers can.
While Freddie and I saw one another regularly over the years, I occasionally ran into Joey and Pepper too. The first time I saw Joey after he'd stopped boxing he grinned and told me he was working as a telemarketer.
"Who'd buy anything from you? Over the phone?" I kidded him.
That's how much I knew.
Once he stopped boxing Freddie worked as an assistant trainer under Futch, and then, after Eddie's automobile accident, took over as head trainer for a few of his boxers. Next thing you knew he was the head trainer for a couple of world champions, and was regarded as one of the bright young minds in the business.
It was along about that time that Freddie told me Joey had so taken to the telemarketing business that he'd quit his job and started his own telemarketing company.
"I can't believe it," said Freddie. "He's making more money than I am."
Barbara Roach eventually moved to Las Vegas and into the house Freddie had built there. Once Freddie's base of operations became the Wild Card Gym in Hollywood (where he was eventually joined by Pepper), she remained in Vegas, where Joey could look after their mother the way she'd always looked after them.
Just as Freddie went on to become a superstar in his field, so did Joey in his. Freddie won three Trainer of the Year Awards (and already has a leg up on a fourth), but Joey was pulling down million-dollar purses even before Freddie was. He employed over a hundred workers at his telemarketing firm, and owned so many cars he could pick his ride of the day by color-coordinating it with his clothes. He had two college-age kids by his first marriage, and there was no way in hell either of them was ever going near a boxing ring.
A few weeks ago he had told Freddie it was time to relax and enjoy life. He planned to sell his business and retire by the end of 2009.
Last week Joey and his wife Jacqueline returned from a family vacation in Michigan. On Saturday morning Jackie woke up, and when she looked at her husband in the bed beside her, the first thing she noticed was that he had turned a ghastly shade of blue. Joey Roach had, at the age of 47, died in his sleep. Although the cause of death has yet to be determined pending an autopsy, a heart attack is suspected.
It was left to Barbara Roach to break the news to Freddie and Pepper. Freddie, who had been training Manny Pacquiao for his Nov. 14 date with Miguel Cotto, immediately suspended camp.
"She's trying to be a trouper, and Freddie is trying to be strong," said a close family friend. "But you know how close they all were. You can imagine how hard this has hit them."
Arrangements have yet to be finalized pending the autopsy, and while there's no indication Joey had the slightest reason to suspect that his days might be numbered, he had recently addressed the subject in terms that some might find surprising.
"When my time comes," Joey had said, "I think I'd like to be buried back in Boston -- next to my father."
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
A WALK IN THE PARK
By Roger Esty
Before the cops played the sheriffs in the annual Copper Bowl Football game and before they discontinued that game because too many lawmen were going out on permanent disabilities,the cops and sheriifs would combine their squads to play the Ghetto Messengers at Ocean View Park in Logan Heights.
Now Ocean View Park was in the heart of the Ghetto so our team(yes I was the only cracker on the team)was named appropriately. What we delivered was a message that if you came to play football in our house you were up against it. The neighborhood was nothin' to look at,but I can say in those days it a lot more safe than today. No Crips.No Bloods. No major drug dealing. No crack.No drive bys. It was the late 60's. All that sh-t was just around the corner.
We had a tough bunch. We were tough and weren't afraid to show it on the 'ol gridiron. The lawmen?Well to be honest they didn't seem so tough without their badges and guns.I never thought they were that tough with all that stuff anyway.
When you live in the hood(I didn't)it was like saying you're here in the sh-t and now we're going to show you how unhappy we are having to live here.
The cops and sheriffs would arrive and the Messengers would watch them warm up. I could see our guys licking their chops. It was a racist thing on both ends. Now it was the time to show who was the man. The playing field was leveled. The rules applied to both teams equally.
To tell the truth we never had much of a problem with them .I think they were a little scared having to meet the "Brothers" on equal terms. The badgemen seemed like they needed more deputies.
The thing about these games though is that they never finished one of them. I have to admit the Messengers were transmitting a feel of dislike for "San Diego's Finest". The Ghetto players would get more and more worked up as they saw the will drain from the other side.
The cops would start to say something like,"Hey boys aren't you hitting after the whistle?"Boom one of the Messangers would mail a right hand to Joe Friday's mouth.
"Now fellas' isn't that against the rules?"
Now a left hook. I mean those guys on our team would really get pissed to see the cops starting to get weak in the knees.
Eventually after being on the receiving end of various blows delivered by the Messengers,the Cops didn't want to play anymore. The Messengers would laugh and say that this was the only time they could hit a cop in the mouth and only get a 15 yard penalty.
Don't tell the Messengers,but I was glad that series ended. I mean I didn't live in the hood. If those cops saw me driving around in my neighborhood,I would have been a mark. But there is a little part of me that misses those games in the park. For me I had nothing to worry about.
Before the cops played the sheriffs in the annual Copper Bowl Football game and before they discontinued that game because too many lawmen were going out on permanent disabilities,the cops and sheriifs would combine their squads to play the Ghetto Messengers at Ocean View Park in Logan Heights.
Now Ocean View Park was in the heart of the Ghetto so our team(yes I was the only cracker on the team)was named appropriately. What we delivered was a message that if you came to play football in our house you were up against it. The neighborhood was nothin' to look at,but I can say in those days it a lot more safe than today. No Crips.No Bloods. No major drug dealing. No crack.No drive bys. It was the late 60's. All that sh-t was just around the corner.
We had a tough bunch. We were tough and weren't afraid to show it on the 'ol gridiron. The lawmen?Well to be honest they didn't seem so tough without their badges and guns.I never thought they were that tough with all that stuff anyway.
When you live in the hood(I didn't)it was like saying you're here in the sh-t and now we're going to show you how unhappy we are having to live here.
The cops and sheriffs would arrive and the Messengers would watch them warm up. I could see our guys licking their chops. It was a racist thing on both ends. Now it was the time to show who was the man. The playing field was leveled. The rules applied to both teams equally.
To tell the truth we never had much of a problem with them .I think they were a little scared having to meet the "Brothers" on equal terms. The badgemen seemed like they needed more deputies.
The thing about these games though is that they never finished one of them. I have to admit the Messengers were transmitting a feel of dislike for "San Diego's Finest". The Ghetto players would get more and more worked up as they saw the will drain from the other side.
The cops would start to say something like,"Hey boys aren't you hitting after the whistle?"Boom one of the Messangers would mail a right hand to Joe Friday's mouth.
"Now fellas' isn't that against the rules?"
Now a left hook. I mean those guys on our team would really get pissed to see the cops starting to get weak in the knees.
Eventually after being on the receiving end of various blows delivered by the Messengers,the Cops didn't want to play anymore. The Messengers would laugh and say that this was the only time they could hit a cop in the mouth and only get a 15 yard penalty.
Don't tell the Messengers,but I was glad that series ended. I mean I didn't live in the hood. If those cops saw me driving around in my neighborhood,I would have been a mark. But there is a little part of me that misses those games in the park. For me I had nothing to worry about.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Monday, August 10, 2009
The Ravenswood . . .
By Rick Farris
Shortly after I stopped boxing in the mid 70's, I drove my sister-in-law into Hollywood.
Kam was an actress and had some composite photos taken by a top glamour photographer, Ian Vaughn.
We were going to meet Vaughn at his apartment to pick up the photos.
As we drove down Vine Street, Kam asked me if I was familiar with the "Ravenswood"?
She explained that the Ravenswood was an upscale apartment building, an art deco masterpiece, located on Rossmoor Ave. on the edge of Hollywood and Hancock Park.
The classic apartment was built in 1930 by Paramount Studios, the design of a legendary architect of the era.
The Ravenswood served as home to a number of Hollywood stars at one point, including Clake Gable, Ava Gardner and the legendary Mae West.
Mae West had bought the building not long after making a name for herself in the movie business, and lived there right up to her death in 1980. A half-century resident.
Once I learned that Mae West owned the building, it became of great interest to me as Ms. West was a legendary boxing fan who was friends with my ex-manager, Suey Welch.
Suey, actor/gangster George Raft, wrestler Mike Mazurki, middleweight champ Gorilla Jones, and Mae West had been friends for decades, all coming west from Ohio at about the same time.
When we pulled up in front of this magnificent building my mind raced, attempting to visualize how it looked nearly a half-century previous.
I thought back to stories I'd heard of Mae West, who had hired former featherweight champ, Chalky Wright, as her personal Chauffeur.
Rumor was that the actress had a thing for prizefighters, and the former 126 lb. would also serve his boss as a lover.
As we entered the building, Kam spoke with the doorman, an elderly gentleman who looked like something from another era. He was hired when the bulding had opened.
The doorman phoned Ian Vaughn's room and we were granted permission to enter.
In those days, Ian Vaughn was a hot young photographer, and he had a room full of half naked models running around his place, serving him like he was a king.
I liked Ian, who had come to Hollywood via Brighton, England and made a name for himself.
At the time I was new in the film industry and Ian told me of his desire to shift from shooting stills to making movies.
I looked around the room at the stunning beauties waiting on him hand & foot and I asked why he'd want to change things.
Vaughn laughed.
On the way out, I marveled at the old building. I asked the doorman if Mae West still lived there.
The elderly man said in a very proper voice, "Miss West owns the building. Her suite occupies the entire top floor."
"Do you see her much?" I ask.
The man smiled, "Yes, you just missed her. She returned from her walk while you were in Mr. Vaughn's residence."
"Damn!" I wanted to tell her I knew Suey, and Gorilla Jones, and Mike Mazurki, some of her old friends. I wanted meet her.
I had always felt a connection with her era, although I was just twenty-four.
When I told this to the doorman, he just smiled and replied, "She'd probably like to meet you as well."
I left with the doorman's words on my mind.
I looked over Kam's head shots. It was obvious why Ian Vaughn was so popular. He was an artist.
Today Ian Vaughn lives in Las Vegas and shoots resorts. When you see dramatic Las Vegas Hotel photos, chances are Ian shot them.
He also makes movies.
As for Mae West, next year will mark the 30th anniversary of her death, and the 80th anniversary of the Ravenswood's birth.
Shortly after I stopped boxing in the mid 70's, I drove my sister-in-law into Hollywood.
Kam was an actress and had some composite photos taken by a top glamour photographer, Ian Vaughn.
We were going to meet Vaughn at his apartment to pick up the photos.
As we drove down Vine Street, Kam asked me if I was familiar with the "Ravenswood"?
She explained that the Ravenswood was an upscale apartment building, an art deco masterpiece, located on Rossmoor Ave. on the edge of Hollywood and Hancock Park.
The classic apartment was built in 1930 by Paramount Studios, the design of a legendary architect of the era.
The Ravenswood served as home to a number of Hollywood stars at one point, including Clake Gable, Ava Gardner and the legendary Mae West.
Mae West had bought the building not long after making a name for herself in the movie business, and lived there right up to her death in 1980. A half-century resident.
Once I learned that Mae West owned the building, it became of great interest to me as Ms. West was a legendary boxing fan who was friends with my ex-manager, Suey Welch.
Suey, actor/gangster George Raft, wrestler Mike Mazurki, middleweight champ Gorilla Jones, and Mae West had been friends for decades, all coming west from Ohio at about the same time.
When we pulled up in front of this magnificent building my mind raced, attempting to visualize how it looked nearly a half-century previous.
I thought back to stories I'd heard of Mae West, who had hired former featherweight champ, Chalky Wright, as her personal Chauffeur.
Rumor was that the actress had a thing for prizefighters, and the former 126 lb. would also serve his boss as a lover.
As we entered the building, Kam spoke with the doorman, an elderly gentleman who looked like something from another era. He was hired when the bulding had opened.
The doorman phoned Ian Vaughn's room and we were granted permission to enter.
In those days, Ian Vaughn was a hot young photographer, and he had a room full of half naked models running around his place, serving him like he was a king.
I liked Ian, who had come to Hollywood via Brighton, England and made a name for himself.
At the time I was new in the film industry and Ian told me of his desire to shift from shooting stills to making movies.
I looked around the room at the stunning beauties waiting on him hand & foot and I asked why he'd want to change things.
Vaughn laughed.
On the way out, I marveled at the old building. I asked the doorman if Mae West still lived there.
The elderly man said in a very proper voice, "Miss West owns the building. Her suite occupies the entire top floor."
"Do you see her much?" I ask.
The man smiled, "Yes, you just missed her. She returned from her walk while you were in Mr. Vaughn's residence."
"Damn!" I wanted to tell her I knew Suey, and Gorilla Jones, and Mike Mazurki, some of her old friends. I wanted meet her.
I had always felt a connection with her era, although I was just twenty-four.
When I told this to the doorman, he just smiled and replied, "She'd probably like to meet you as well."
I left with the doorman's words on my mind.
I looked over Kam's head shots. It was obvious why Ian Vaughn was so popular. He was an artist.
Today Ian Vaughn lives in Las Vegas and shoots resorts. When you see dramatic Las Vegas Hotel photos, chances are Ian shot them.
He also makes movies.
As for Mae West, next year will mark the 30th anniversary of her death, and the 80th anniversary of the Ravenswood's birth.
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