The Golden Boy Loved The Booing

                                                     By kiki

Art “Golden Boy” Aragon played the bad guy with the Mexican fans with much success.  He would go TV/radio and say he wasn’t Mexican-American, he would say he was Italian or Spanish. The Mexican fans would pack the Olympic Auditorium to the rafters (10,400 fans) to see him get his ass kicked. They would boo him as he would enter the ring and all during the fight, they would boo the loudest when his hand was raised after KOing one of their heroes. Before walking out of the ring he would parade around the ring thumbing his nose at the booing crowd. A “hot” beer would sometimes be thrown at him. But he knew what he was doing all the time, he knew they would be back and pack the arena for his next fight hoping to see him get his ass kicked, and since he fought on a percentage of the gate he needed those pissed off Mexican to come to his fights. He loved to say that they could boo him all they wanted as long as they bought a ticket, that he would cry all the way to the bank the day after the fight….The loudest I heard him been booed was when he fought Lauro Salas. Art and Salas fought at the Olympic after getting into a bar fight because Art called a Salas a “fucking Mexican” Sure miss those day!!

Stiverne VS Wilder.

The fight was an okay fight, not great by any means, but better than any of the K bro’s fights. Wild showed he can fight a bit, but he also showed his inexperience when he tried to close the show. The times when he had Stiv in trouble and he went for the KO he looked like an amateur in the way he would flail away with arm punches, no snap or turning of the wrist, nor did he placed his punches when he needed to..The one good thing for Wild was going the 12 rounds without getting winded. He has a good right hand, but he needs to learn how feint with the left to set up the right hand…I hope he hold the title for a bit….As for Stiv, I think it’s time for him to hang up the gloves, he is a slow 36 years old fighter, and he can’t expect to get any better, but I expect that he will hang in there for a few more paydays, like maybe a K fight.

One Round or Ten Rounds, What’s the Difference?

                                               By KiKi

In the early 1980’s Jimmy Montoya had a fighter fighting the main event as an “opponent” at the Olympic Auditorium in The City of Angels. The fighter whom name is long forgotten was fighting for a guaranteed purse of $2,500.00 for the ten round fight.

The bell sounded for the first round and a few blows were thrown in the first minute and a half. Around the second minute mark Jimmy’s fighter took a decent punch to the chin, but it was no knockdown punch, but nevertheless Jimmy’s fighter hit the canvas.

With his fighter lying on the canvas Jimmy started yelling at him to get up, but all Jimmy got from the fighter was a wink and a nod. When the referee reached the count of ten the-fighter jumped to his feet.

Once they were down in the catacombs, as the Olympic Auditorium dressing rooms were known, Jimmy asked his fighter “Why didn’t you get up?” The fighter replied with a question to Jimmy whom he called Pappy “how much am I getting paid for the fight, Pappy?”  “You know you’re getting twenty five hundred dollars” Jimmy answered him. “Right, twenty five hundred if I go one round or ten rounds, right? So what’s the difference other than taking less of a beating if I go one or ten round? None!?” “You got a point there son, let’s go to the box office and cash your check so I can get my one third”

1973: Ensenada, Baja California

                                                 By kiki

 

In late spring of 1973 I received a phone call from a representative of the I.Y.B.C. The International Youth Boxing Club located in Montebello, CA. was a youth organization headed by Southern California boxing figures such as Rudy Jordan and Mando Muniz.

 

The caller explain to me that the I.Y.B.C. was hosting a boxing meet between an Ensenada, Baja California based team and a team made up of local amateur boxers. The caller asked me if I would allow Frankie to fight in the 125 pound class. Frankie at age 15 had just come back from a two year lay-off to fight in the Junior Golden Gloves, which he won against Francisco Flores. After been told that the event would take place in ten days at the I.Y.B.C. Gym I ok’d Frankie’s partaking in the event.

 

I don’t remember much about any of the fights as I was just focus on Frankie’s fight. Frankie’s opponent was a dead-ringer of a young Mando Ramos, in facial looks and boxing style. Frankie won an exciting hard fought three round fight by UD…After the bouts were all fought and as we enjoyed a beer or two with our Baja California counterparts they invited us to Ensenada to do it all over again. They made it a point about Frankie fighting the Mando Ramos lookalike again, we accepted the challenge.

                                     

                                     Ensenada, Baja California

 

We were told that since the event was going to be during mid-summer we were going to be put-up at a private Ensenada Beach campground. Owning a motorhome at the time it was something we were looking forward to.

 

With my boxing partner John Martinez, his wife Bea, Frankie, our daughter Linda and Connie and me behind the wheel of our motorhome we left La Puente on Thursday afternoon (fights were schedule for Saturday night) we arrived in Tijuana two and half hours later. After doing a little shopping and having dinner we left Tijuana on the Tijuana/Ensenada toll road, and a toll road it was, it seem like every five miles we had to pay a toll. We arrived at the gated beach campground around midnight. Standing in front of the gate was an armed sentry. With rife across his chest he stopped us at the gate, I rolled my window down to tell him we were with the boxing club, and to my surprise I found the young sentry to be mentally challenged. I was thinking, why is this fella allowed to walk around with a loaded rife? Well we later founded out that he was the owner’s son. As I was parking the motorhome on the beach I told everybody to make sure they stayed out of his way, and not to forget that we were in Mexico and that we had to obey their laws. We spent Friday taking in the sights, eating and drinking a Mexican beer (Bohemia) here and there. By Friday afternoon the rest of the team had arrived, I don’t remember who else was on our team, I remember that the Montes’s were there, not sure if both Herman and John fought. I do remember that Eddie “Animal” Lopez was there, not sure if he fought though, he might had been a pro by that time was just along for the ride. Friday night we a had a big beach fire going, we sat around the fire telling fishing lies and drinking a beer or two.

 
Weigh-ins for the fights were early Saturday morning. Frankie and the Mando Ramos lookalike weighted in the low 120’s. After the weight-ins we had a Mexican breakfast at a local restaurant. Frankie had a mid-afternoon dinner of seafood. It was soon time for us to make our way to the arena. Fights were fought in front of a packed arena, but been focus on Frankie’s fight I can’t tell you who fought them. Fight time! We enter the ring first, a few minutes later Frankie’s opponent enter the ring, but it was not the Mando Ramos lookalike! I looked at the guy and told the referee that that was not our opponent, and that the guy had to had being in his mid-20’s. I looked around the arena and I spotted Mando Ramos’s twin gloved and leaning against a back wall. I told the referee as I pointed to the guy “that’s the guy we are fighting or we won’t fight. The “old” guy walked out of the ring as the twin walked in. They were trying put a ringer in with Frankie!..The fight was give and take for the first two rounds, but Frankie pulled it out by scoring a knockdown in the third and final round of a-great amateur fight. After the fights it was party time at the beach fire. As we were bullshitting around the fire we spotted two horses with riders making their way in the dark toward the fire. The horsemen were Frankie and Eddie “Animal” Lopez. First thing I said to them was “what the hell are you two doing, don’t you know that they still hang horse thieves in Mexico?” They jumped of the horses faster than you can say “thieves” and gave the horses a slap on the ass. Good thing the “Rife man” wasn’t around to see our horse “thieves” otherwise we would had had to attend a hanging…Sunday as we drove back home I notice Frankie rubbing his neck, he told me “don’t stop in Tijuana” We arrived home alive and well.

Lena, Joe and Johnnie

                                                     By kiki

The late Los Angeles boxing trainer, Johnnie “Mr. Golden Gloves” Flores once told me a story about how he met the beautiful Lena Horn. I was reminded of Johnnie’s story last night as I was watching Lena Horn in ‘Stormy Weather’

Johnnie’s story: soon after WWII ended Johnnie was in a fancy restaurant in New York City with WWII buddy; long time heavyweight champ Joe Louis. I don’t know if this was in the late 1940's or early 1950's. According to Johnnie, both he and Louis were broke. They were sitting there trying to figure out how to pay for dinner when in walked Lena Horn with a friend. Louis stood up and invited Horn and her friend to his and Johnnie’s table, and as he was doing so he told Johnnie to order anything he wanted.

They all had a fancy dinner with fancy drinks. After dinner Louis asked the waiter for the check, which he got, he then proceeded to check it out real good, making sure they were not over-charge, after making sure they were not, he handed the check to Lena Horn telling her “take care of this and don’t forget to add the tip to it”

Jo Jo Torres vs Stan Ward

                                      

                                                   By kiki

In spring of 1973, I and the Southern California Coaches and Managers Association took a Los Angeles amateur boxing team to the state Capital, Sacramento, for a box off against their local champs. Our heavyweight was a part time amateur boxer, Jo Jo Torres, whom real passion was been a playboy. But for the Torres vs Ward fight it was for the most part a forgettable trip in which we lost 7 out of 10 fights. When Jo Jo found out he was fighting Ward, who was known to be the best amateur heavyweight in California, I could see in his eyes that he would rather be in some nite club in LA then in a boxing ring in Sacramento. In the first round Jo Jo went down from what seemed like a so-so right hand. Down on one knee he kept looking at the canvas as the referee counted. I could see that he wasn’t going to get up, even though he could have. As the ref was about to count nine I jumped in the ring and stopped the fight to save him face. As soon as I jumped in the ring Jo Jo jumped up too and he said to me “why did you stop the fight? I was going to get up” I said to him “of course you were” As we were flying back home he kept telling anybody on the plane that would listen “I was going to get up” Of course he was!

Pencils for the Blind

 

                                               By kiki

Back in 1950’s and well into the ‘60’s there was a middle age black man that used to sit cross-legged outside the main entrance of the Olympic Auditorium on fite nite. He would sit wearing dark glasses with a white cane with a red tip near-by. His hat sitting on the sidewalk was turned upside down and full of pencils. Fans as they walked into the arena would drop coins and paper money into his hat. Very few would take a pencil. Anything to help the blind, right?....Well one night as I was milling among the crowd in front of the arena I spotted local boxing manager Ralph Gambina walking across the street, so did our blind friend, because he jumped up and yelled “hey Ralph” He caught himself but it was too late; many of the fans had seen what he had done. Soon he was gone, only to be back sitting in the same spot the following week.

What’s that old adage? “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me”

DQ=T.D.

I remember back in 1980 when Tony Baltazar was making his 13^th  start against an old veteran by the name of Chuy Rodriguez, Rodriguez was making his 43^rd pro start. After the bell sounded to end the 4^th round Rodriguez hit Tony, Tony hit him back causing a nasty cut over one of Rodriguez’s eyes. The referee called Dr. Bernhart Schwartz up into the ring to examine the cut, the good doctor did so and he told the referee that Rodriguez couldn’t continue the fight. When the referee signal that the fight was over all hell broke loose. Cups full of beer and maybe piss started raining into the ring. We jumped out of the ring before the TD decision was announced and with cops around us we made it by the skin of our teeth to our dressing room. We stay in the catacombs till way after the last fight was over. We were saved to fight another day!