Boxing came into my life when I was seven. In some ways, it never left.
I grew up in a small Massachusetts town with a few hundred Jewish families after World War II. An otherwise tolerant Christian community had a tiny minority, mostly teenagers, who insulted and bullied Jewish kids. After a few beatings, Jewish boys in Milford, including my 15-year-old brother Stanley, nicknamed Sookie, asked the synagogue leadership for help, a gym to learn to defend themselves.
Sookie At Age 14
The gym went into the basement of the synagogue. The businessmen who funded it knew what happened to millions of defenseless European Jews. The Rabbi of the congregation himself was a survivor, whose wife and children had been murdered. Recently, the state of Israel also fought for its life.
Upstairs in the synagogue were shelves of books and an ark with scrolls promoting loving your neighbor as yourself and praying for peace. These were among eternal truths of unmatched spiritual power. Downstairs, in the world of Everlast, was preparation for battle: stacks of York weights and barbells, benches, gloves, head gear, medicine balls, jump ropes, chin-up bars, mirrors, speed and heavy bags, a canvas-covered ring, and throughout, the smell of sweat on leather.
The boys needed a trainer and got two. A WWII veteran offered to help with physical conditioning. Jake, the vet, had been stationed on a Pacific island, on the supply chain to feed, fuel, clothe and arm MacArthur’s drive toward Japan. When the Navy guys could, they trained. They lifted two canteens dipped in cement at the ends of a broomstick.
With brand new equipment, Jake turned my brother and his friends into athletes. He found a boxing trainer, who taught my brother and his friends what A.J. Liebling has called, the sweet science. Sookie became his most able student.
“They lifted two canteens dipped in cement at the ends of a broomstick.”
In school, my brother wasn’t much of a student, but he trained to box for hours a day, sometimes four, sometimes six to prepare for a fight. He read books by Joe Louis and later Rocky Marciano, but Louis, the Brown Bomber, was his real hero, along with Moses and David Ben-Gurion.
I remember how Sookie came home from his road work, sprinting through the neighborhood. The lines around his mouth were white from exhaustion and nausea. How he held a barbell in his outstretched arm until his shoulder shook, this to strengthen his jab; how he dimpled the heavy bag with his gloved fists; how he turned the speed bag into a blur. He jump-roped and shadow-boxed into something that looked like a dance. The trainer used to slam a medicine ball into his tightened belly. My brother allowed one of my friends to punch him in the stomach with all his might. The slap of his fist was loud. My brother moved with the punch, which had little effect.
“He jump-roped and shadow-boxed into something that looked like a dance.”
As for sparring, my brother was nearly blind without glasses. He had to give them up in the ring. With no contacts available at the time, he watched his opponents’ feet. From their footwork, Sookie knew what they would throw. He’d block and counterpunch. Sookie was a very good counter puncher, for another reason.
My mother disapproved of violence and boxing, although there were plenty of Jewish boxers, some champions. My parents’ ideals were closer to those of the synagogue above the gym than the gym below. Perhaps this was one reason behind my brother’s complaint that he needed to get hit once to get into the fight. Counterpunching fit the defense-turned-offense requirement.
Sookie, Middle, With Sister Helen And Brother Len
The purpose of the gym in the synagogue basement was defensive too. The bullying, intimidation and insults toward Jewish kids in the small town disappeared or decreased. The Jewish kids could defend themselves. That was enough to end their victimhood and teach many of us a lifelong lesson on how the world too often works.
My brother’s reputation as a fighter grew. We had a cousin in Revere, picked on because of his small size. One day when he was bullied, he invited the aggressor to wait for his cousin, who was sure to fight him when he next visited. Sookie arrived and the bully challenged him to a fight. In boxing, my brother learned that brawn is not enough. Boxing is a thinking sport, backed up by muscle. The bully tried to brawl. My brother hit him until he quit.
Sookie fought so well that he was encouraged to fight professionally. My father’s friends watched him spar, and offered to support him with cash while he trained and found fights. My parents were completely against that idea. I cannot tell if my brother was disappointed. Perhaps that would have made his beloved sport into a business.
Sookie went into the Army, where he finished his high school education. He went onto college under the GI Bill and studied until he had a master’s. He got married and had kids. He became a guidance counselor at a large regional high school and rode a motorcycle to school, even in winter. He didn’t box anymore, but he always trained. For a while, he led a fencing club at the high school. Students kept visiting him after he retired.
A decade before he died, he invited me to his basement, where he had set of vinyl-covered weights and barbells. We chatted about life while he lifted, sweating through hundreds of reps, as he called them, the stamina builders.
“These require – no other word for it — courage.”
Joan Benoit Samuelson, outstanding marathoner, says that “marathons are a metaphor for life.” Boxing is perhaps an even better metaphor. Like any athlete, the boxer sacrifices to reach the highest level of conditioning and skill. However, it’s the personal risk to the body and the brain, as well as the risk of humiliation in search of success, all within rules of good sportsmanship. These require – no other word for it — courage.
Years later, I wrote a song called “The Boxer’s Creed” with this chorus:
You’re not going down
Say it between rounds
Until your soul hears the sound
You’re not going down.
Fists in the air
Bring it on, Despair,
I am not going down, not going down.
When first learning how to box, students of the Manly Art are usually told about the three basic punches: The jab, the right cross, and the left hook. (These would be reversed in the case of a southpaw.)
The jab has been called the most important punch in boxing, and it is. If you can’t reach your opponent with a jab, you will not be able to reach him with any other punch. It is both an offensive and a defensive blow and has many variations.
The right cross is used as a counter to the jab as it is the jab that it crosses over. When encountering a jab the person on the receiving end will attempt to slip it and fire a right hand over it with the intent of landing a good shot to the jaw.
The left hook is a great punch, but it is useless if not properly set up.
The left hook can be used in many ways. It is utilized as both a head and body punch. Like the jab, it can be thrown as a single punch or double and even tripled up. I have seen fighters through five and six in a row. It is also usually part of a combination such as, jab, right cross, left hook, all thrown in quick succession.
Robinson vs Fullmer
Many fighters have been known for having a great left hook, and it is a common, and usually true belief, that most boxers who rely on the hook tend to be shorter and often stockier then their counterparts. However, this is not always the case. Gerry Cooney was very tall and possessed a devastating left hook to the body. Tommy Morrison at 6’2” also had a tremendous left hook.
Robinson landed a perfectly timed hook to the chin of Fullmer knocking him out cold. Ray called the punch the most perfect of his career.
What has been called the greatest left hook ever thrown was not launched by a short stocky boxer but instead by a 5’11” middleweight by the name of Walker Smith Jr, more widely known as Sugar Ray Robinson. In the 5th round of his 1957 bout with Gene Fullmer, who was known as a hooker, Robinson landed a perfectly timed hook to the chin of Fullmer knocking him out cold. Ray called the punch the most perfect of his career, and many boxing experts have concurred with that sentiment. It was the only time Gene was ever knocked out. He was stopped in his last fight, but in that bout he retired on his stool.
A tall lanky boxer also landed two other memorable left hooks. Bob Foster at 6’3” and 174 pounds landed a picture perfect hook in winning the title from Dick Tiger. This was not a wild punch. Foster set Tiger up for the blow and then landed it flush on the chin with precision timing. Tiger was out cold for the only time in his career. As in Fullmer’s case, Tiger had only failed to go the distance one other time in his career, and that was a between rounds stoppage because of an injured thumb.
It is the paradox of boxing that fans were witnessing an artful display of boxing skill, a move that would rival that of any world class choreographed dancer, and at the same time watching a man possibly being killed…
In defending his title against Mike Quarry, Foster once again demonstrated the absolutely lethal power in his left hand. Again, he used his jab and shoulder feints to set up the
Bob Foster Stands Over Mike Quarry
courageous Quarry. Once he made the opening, Foster let go with a left hook that rendered Mike unconscious before he hit the canvass. People in the arena and watching on closed circuit TV gasped as they saw the challenger fall to the canvas in a comatose state. It is the paradox of boxing that fans were witnessing an artful display of boxing skill, a move that would rival that of any world class choreographed dancer, and at the same time watching a man possibly being killed, and for a number of minutes following the blow it was in question whether the young Quarry would ever open his eyes again. Fortunately, he did regain his senses and got to his feet, but that punch will be remembered by all who witnessed it, and it will continue to invoke the question of how we can find such beauty in something so damaging to a fellow human being.
Ironically, Foster would later become the recipient of one of the most deadly left hooks ever landed when he challenged Joe Frazier for the Heavyweight Championship.
Joe fit the stereotype of the left hooker, being shorter and stockier then his opponent. He had also made a name for himself with the punch. His stoppage of Jimmy Ellis was another textbook example of how to throw the hook. In the final knockdown of that bout Frazier pivoted to his right and then landed a left hook flush on Ellis’s chin. Somehow Jimmy managed to get to his feet as the bell sounded, but Angelo Dundee mercifully stopped the fight at that point.
Frazier Knocks Out Foster
In the Foster vs Frazier fight Bob came out in the first round determined to make distance between himself and Joe. He was not going to fall into the trap of trading hooks with a hooker. He was jabbing and attempting to land his powerful right hand on Frazier, and he did manage to get a few in, but Joe was relentless. In the second round Joe dropped Foster with a left hook. When Foster arose, the champion pummeled him to the ropes where he landed a tremendous left hook to the jaw of the challenger. Foster was out cold. This time it was Bob Foster who was being counted over.
The left hook is a great punch, but it is useless if not properly set up. Yes, many boxers have gone out there and just thrown lots of hooks and eventually gotten lucky in landing one to win the fight, but as they move up to a higher caliber of competition they find that it takes more then just tossing punches. Both Foster and Frazier knew how to set up their opponents for the hook. Foster with his jab and feints, Frazier with his pressuring, slipping, and stepping to the side. It is these moves that put the art into the Art of Boxing.
May 31st was the 32nd anniversary of the death of the great Jack Dempsey. On social media people marked the date by showing clips of Jack’s winning the Heavyweight Championship in brutal fashion from Jess Willard. In that bout Dempsey floored the giant Willard seven times in the first round administering one of the most severe beating ever seen in a boxing ring. By the end of the third round Jess was unable to continue having suffered broken bones in his face and ribs. For years it had been rumored that Dempsey’s hands were loaded (something heavy was put into his gloves along with his fists) for the fight. His former manager, with whom Jack had had a falling out, fed the flames by claiming to have taken part in the scheme. His accusations were driven by a desire to hurt his former champion. This controversy has been argued to exhaustion by fight fans over the years with most agreeing the fight was on the up and up, so I will not rehash the arguments here.
“In reality, the boxing glove has made the sport more dangerous.”
What has not been discussed much is the fact that in reality all boxers enter the ring with their gloves loaded, and I don’t mean with just their fists. It is interesting to learn just why the boxing glove and the taping of the hands came into existence, as most people believe it was to make the sport safer. That couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, the boxing glove has made the sport more dangerous. I will give a very short history of how the boxing glove evolved and I think you will begin to understand what I mean.
The first version of a boxing glove appeared in ancient Greece. The boxers of that era found they were breaking their hands when hitting each other in the head, so they began wrapping pieces of leather around their fists as a way to give more support to the bones in their hands. The ancient Romans, being the innovators they were when it came to making sports more barbaric, started adding small spikes to the leather hand wraps in order to make them even more deadly. There is an excellent example of this hand wrapping, or what was to become known as the cestus in the remarkable statute of “The Terme Boxer” or as it is more commonly known “The Boxer At Rest” in Rome. I have written about this incredible work of art before and include a photo of it with this article.
I will now skip ahead a couple of millennium to the period in England when boxing started to become very popular. In the 18th Century, James Figg, who has become known as the Father of Boxing, began developing a style of boxing, that while quite different from what we know it as today, set the stage for what would later develop into the modern sport of boxing. Figg incorporated many moves from the art of fencing into a sport that was to become known as boxing. This early version allowed for punching, but that was not the main emphasis. Grappling was also a big part of what went on in these matches. One of the reasons for the lack of punching was the fact that the combatants would break their hands hitting each other on the head. Our hands are made up of many small bones that break and bruise easily. Just ask anyone who has suffered from carpal tunnel syndrome and they will tell you how delicate the human hand can be.
As the sport moved on into the 19th Century, fighters continued to deal with the best way to avoid breaking their hands. In many ways boxing became more primitive as many of the fencing moves were lost and the grappling increased. Many of these later bareknuckle matches would last for hours as neither participant would want to take a chance on throwing a knock out blow until they were sure their opponent had slowed down enough so they could land a clean shot on the jaw, thus not injuring their hand.
Eventually, many of these fighters began wrapping their hands and wearing light gloves in order to allow them the freedom to land more head punches without fear of hurting their hands.
As boxing moved into the 20th Century, hand wrapping became much more sophisticated and the gloves improved quite a bit. At no point were the gloves improved with the idea of making the sport safer. They were further developed in order to allow for more head punching. This actually made the sport much more dangerous, for it was now possible for a large number of punches to be thrown at and landed on the head. This resulted in an increase of head injuries.
At the beginning of this article I stated that boxing gloves are always loaded. I will explain. If you have ever had your hands properly taped for a fight you will know that first a roll of gauze is wrapped around the hand. This is followed by having the gauzed secured with a goodly amount of tape in order to keep it in place and to greatly strengthen the hand and protect the bones. Once this taping is done, that “loaded hand” is placed into a boxing glove which gives it even more protection. Take a well wrapped hand encased in a boxing glove and you can throw a full throttle blow at a brick wall and not hurt your fist. I have actually done that. Now, just think of how much harder you can hit another human being in the head with this set up.
“The modern boxer does not go into the ring with lead weights in his gloves, but he does enter the ring with a fist that is greatly enhanced for the purpose of causing more damage to the head.”
The modern boxer does not go into the ring with lead weights in his gloves, but he does enter the ring with a fist that is greatly enhanced for the purpose of causing more damage to the head. Dempsey’s hands were not illegally loaded the day he destroyed Willard, but I can guarantee you he would not have been able to land those head punches if his hands had not been wrapped.
The idea that somehow the boxing glove was developed to make the sport safer is a myth. The boxing glove, along with hand wraps, have made boxing more dangerous. An argument can be made that if you wanted to make boxing safer you would ban hand protection.
The recent Floyd Mayweather Jr. vs. Manny Pacquiao superfight was only the fifth boxing match in 109 years to be billed as “The Fight of the Century”. The previous century had seen four such matches, with the great boxing promoter George L. “Tex” Rickard responsible for three of them. Tex invented the phrase in 1906 to publicize the Joe Gans vs. “Battling” Nelson lightweight title fight. He made good use of it twice more over the next 15 years for the Jack Johnson vs. James J. Jeffries and Jack Dempsey vs. Georges Carpentier heavyweight title fights. Of course logic would dictate that there could be only one “Fight of the Century” but whoever said the business of boxing was logical? The last fight prior to Pacquiao and Mayweather to be labelled a “Fight of the Century” was the Joe Frazier vs. Muhammad Ali heavyweight championship in 1971.
“The Old Master” Joe Gans, circa 1906
Of the five contests mentioned above only 2 managed to actually live up to the tremendous pre-fight build up. Despite the huge social and political ramifications of the 1910 heavyweight championship bout between Johnson and Jeffries the actual fight was a dud. Johnson, still in his prime, easily dominated the previously undefeated former champion (who was making an ill-advised comeback after a five year layoff) before stopping him in the 15th round.
The Dempsey vs. Carpentier extravaganza of 1921 was also hugely significant but for different reasons. Over 90,000 fans—the largest crowd to ever attend a sporting event—watched Dempsey flatten the overmatched Frenchman in less than four rounds. Dempsey vs. Carpentier will never make anyone’s all-time list of great fights but its importance to the economic and cultural side of boxing was monumental. For the first time in history a sporting event had drawn over one million dollars in paid admissions. It was also the first time a championship match was broadcast over the radio. The fight jump started the Golden Age of sports in America and transformed professional boxing into popular entertainment for a mass audience.
As anyone who saw it will attest, the first Ali vs. Frazier fight more than lived up to its pre-fight hype. Like Johnson vs. Jeffries 61 years earlier the event was intertwined with the social and political issues of the times. But unlike that fight it was an intense and exciting struggle between two undefeated heavyweight champions that brought out the best in each man. The combined worldwide audience (live and at theatres showing the fight on closed circuit television in America or telecast for free via satellite throughout the rest of the world) was estimated at over one billion people, in other words about half the planet. Madison Square Garden, the venue for the fight, priced ringside tickets at $150 dollars. The cheapest balcony seat was only $20 dollars. (The wildly inflated ticket prices in Las Vegas for Pacquiao vs. Mayweather ranged from $1500 to $10,000).
So which “Fight of the Century” deserves top honors? I think a very strong case can be made for the 1906 duel between Gans and Nelson, arguably one of the most incredible and disturbing boxing matches ever staged. The battle between “The Old Master” and “The Durable Dane” for the lightweight championship of the world was a fight for the ages. It took place in Goldfield, Nevada, a mining boomtown located halfway between Reno and Las Vegas. The town’s financial bigwigs, flush with money, decided that some kind of spectacular public attraction would draw further attention and generate additional infusions of cash into Goldfield’s mining stock. (Much of what they sold turned out to be worthless mining properties, but that’s another story). A committee of distinguished citizens was formed to come up with proposals. One suggestion was that a giant hole be dug along the main street and filled with free beer. Another idea was to stage a camel race. Enter Tex Rickard, cattle rancher, gambling hall impresario and promoter extraordinaire. Rickard had already made and lost several fortunes. Sensing an opportunity, he proposed an all-star boxing match between two of the world’s best boxers– lightweight champion Joe Gans and his number one challenger “Battling” Nelson. The idea was immediately accepted.
Joe Gans, the first African American boxing champion, won the lightweight championship in 1902. Dubbed “The Old Master” because of his extraordinary skill, he had already cleaned out the lightweight division and was forced to take on welterweights and middleweights to keep active. The only serious challenger to his title was a boxing brute named Oscar Mathew “Battling” Nelson of Chicago, by way of Denmark. Nelson’s other nickname was “The Durable Dane”. He was the type of fighter who thrived on fights beyond 15 rounds. Nelson was a rough customer with a reputation as a dirty fighter. He seemed impervious to punishment and his stamina and relentless style was legendary. His trademark punch was a short left hook aimed at the liver, with thumb and forefinger extended to provide greater penetration. Nelson claimed the “White lightweight championship” and was confident he could defeat Gans in a “fight to the finish”—meaning a fight with no time limit. Such a fight could not end in a decision but would continue indefinitely until one of the contestants was either knocked out, quit or was disqualified.
Fights to the finish, a staple of the bare-knuckle era, were not uncommon in early turn of the century gloved fights, especially in the western states. A bout limited to 15 or 20 three minute rounds would favor Gans. A fight to the finish against iron man Nelson was another matter. Gans, in need of cash, and having run out of challengers who would agree to fight him, consented to a finish fight. He was confident he could knock out Nelson.
Nelson’s almost super human ability to absorb punishment and his endless reserves of stamina was fascinating to some people. Among the curious was Columbia University’s rowing coach Dr. Walter B. Peet. He examined the “Durable Dane” for his endurance and found Nelson’s heart beat to be only 47 beats per minute compared to 72 for the average person. As the good doctor explained it, such a low heartbeat was only found in the “colder blooded animals which survived the days of antiquity and the cold of the Ice Age.” Further consultation with surgeons and the curator of the American Museum of Natural History concluded that measurements of Nelson’s head revealed “the thickest skull bones of any human being since Neanderthal man.” It seemed obvious that “Battling” Nelson would have the advantage in a fight to the finish.
Nelson threatened to pull out of the fight several times unless he received the lion’s share of the purse. Gans, in desperate need of a decent payday, agreed to accept a $10,000 guarantee while Nelson, the challenger, was to receive $20,000. The fight was scheduled for Labor Day, September 3, 1906. (Ever the showman, Rickard displayed the entire $30,000 purse in twenty-dollar gold pieces in full view through a window of a bank in Goldfield).
Aware of Gans’ precarious financial condition and how much he wanted the fight Nelson’s manager made the unprecedented demand that he weigh in three times on the day of the fight (at noon, 1:30 and 3 p.m.) while wearing his trunks, gloves and shoes. It was a blatant attempt to weaken the champion. Gans would have to weigh no more than 133 pounds or else forfeit $5000 of his purse. The great fighter, confident of victory, agreed to all of the demands.
On the day of the fight Gans was quoted in his hometown paper, The Baltimore Sun: “I have given in on every point just to secure this match. I am betting everything I can get my hands on, and I have got to win. I will have the Dane chopped to pieces and asleep inside of 15 rounds”. Nelson told the same paper, “I am going to give Gans an awful beating, and I think he will be begging for mercy long before the twentieth round is reached. I will let Gans wear himself out, and then I’ll come through and get him. Watch me. There will be crepe in Coontown on Labor Day while the Danish descendants are celebrating.”
A week before the fight all hotel rooms were sold out. Late arrivals slept on the ground. Many of the 200 Pullman cars that had been chartered to transport fight fans served as hotel rooms.
The 24 year old Nelson had 70 pro fights under his belt. Gans, eight years older, was a veteran of 187 fights. Both weighed in at 132 ¼ pounds. Gans was favored at odds of 10 to 7.
They entered the ring shortly after 3 p.m. Some 8000 fans filled the wooden arena built especially for the fight. Gate receipts of $76,000 set a new world record for title fights. Among the ringside spectators were a U.S. senator, various mining tycoons, stars of the Vaudeville stage and the son of President Theodore Roosevelt. Before the fight began several telegrams sent by prominent individuals were read to the crowd, including one from Joe’s mother imploring her son to “bring home the bacon”, words that have since entered the American lexicon.
In one last attempt to further undermine Gans’s chances Nelson’s manager, Billy Nolan, argued that Gans should have weighed in wearing bandages on his fists. Gans responded that he would fight without taping his hands. It was a decision he would regret after breaking his right hand on Nelson’s head in the 32nd round.
For security purposes Rickard had arranged for 300 deputy sheriffs, their open vests displaying holstered pistols, to maintain order. To forestall any shenanigans by his crooked manager Gans announced to the crowd that he had instructed referee George Siler to ignore any attempt by his corner to throw in the towel no matter his condition. Nelson told the referee to do the same for him. By mutual agreement only the referee would have the authority to stop the fight. The crowd, evenly divided in their sentiments, cheered both fighters.
As expected Gans dominated the early rounds by easily outboxing Nelson. His accurate and powerful punches drew blood from Nelson’s nose, mouth and ears. Despite the punishment Nelson kept coming forward. Gans was the division’s hardest puncher but no matter how many times he landed Nelson rarely broke ground. The crazed Dane kept boring in, attempting to place his head against Gans’ chest and deliver body blows at close range. More often than not, utilizing his superb footwork, jab and counterpunching skills, Gans was able to keep most of the action at long range, even managing to knock down his rock jawed challenger twice for short counts. In desperation Nelson began butting Gans. Gans protested to the referee. Warnings were issued but no action was taken.
The pace of the fight was relentless. During the minute rest between rounds each man’s seconds waved huge towels in an attempt to offer their fighter some relief from the sweltering desert heat. Finally, in the 10th round, Nelson bloodied Gans’s mouth with a series of punches. After 15 rounds of fighting Gans had lost, at most, two rounds. The pace finally began to slow after the 20th round. There was more wrestling and clinching as the fighters sought to grab a few moments respite before beginning another assault.
By the 30th round both gladiators were showing signs of exhaustion. They had fought under the broiling Nevada sun the equivalent of two grueling 15 round title bouts. Nelson, although bleeding profusely and with his left eye closed, was still the aggressor and was now landing more often. At one point, after missing a swing, he fell through the ropes whereupon Gans, a consummate sportsman, reached down to help him back into the ring. Nelson responded by kicking him in the shins.
As the bout passed the two hour mark there was an increase in stalling and wrestling. Even the fans were showing signs of exhaustion. At the bell signaling the start of the 40th round the crowd was in awe of the fact that both warriors were still standing.
As described in Joe Gans: A Biography of the First African American World Boxing Champion, authors Colleen Aycock and Mark Scott attempt to understand the mental state of the fighters as the bell rang for the 41st round: “It is quite possible that both Gans and Nelson are in a state of clinical delirium at this point, but their bodies are trained to fight on with or without their minds. Dehydrated, battered and bloody, the gladiators may or may not really know where they are.
“Nelson totters like a bull the picador has struck with forty lances. Gans the matador has been gored, fouled, and kicked, but is still waiting to deliver the coup de grace, a blow that will come at the beginning of the 42nd round that almost decapitates Nelson.” And so it finally ends. The iron man is at the end of his tether and on the verge of finally taking the count. Suddenly he strikes Gans with a low blow. Was the punch deliberate? Very likely Nelson sought to foul out instead of suffering the humiliation of a knockout defeat. Gans sank to the floor and was unable to continue. Intentional or not the foul blow was obvious to everyone in the arena and the referee had no choice but to disqualify Nelson and award the bout to Gans. No one objected to the disqualification.
Gans was carried out of the ring but not before announcing to the crowd that he would meet Nelson again in two weeks to prove he could win without being fouled. A cascade of boos and derision descended upon Nelson. He quickly retreated to his dressing room.
The much anticipated rematch would not take place for another two years. It would not carry the label of “Fight of the Century”. By that time Gans, his resistance compromised by his struggle to make weight for their first marathon fight, had contracted tuberculosis. Gans fought the last two years of his career while slowly dying. The man acknowledged to be one of the ten greatest boxers of all time (some say the greatest) passed away in 1910 at the age of 35. His record showed only 12 losses in 196 fights, including 100 wins by knockout.
Battling Nelson, surely one of the toughest and dirtiest fighters who ever lived, would go on to win the lightweight title and defeat the disease ravaged Gans in two subsequent bouts. But he paid an awful price for his shock absorbing style of fighting. The Durable Dane eventually lost his mind and ended his last days in an insane asylum while still training for a comeback.
March 22, 1967 would turn out to be the date of Muhammad Ali’s last bout for three years. He had been classified as 1A by the draft board and ordered to show up for induction in the coming months. Before the bout Ali spoke about this possibly being the last time for the public to see him in the ring “Live and in living color”. The bout was held in Madison Square Garden and his opponent was the veteran contender Zora Folley from Chandler, Arizona. The fight was televised on home TV, so it was guaranteed to be seen by a large audience.
As a young boy I remember watching the fight, and what stands out in my memory from that night was the fact that, even at such a young age, I thought there was something odd about the fight. I didn’t know what, but it just seemed that things weren’t quite right.
Looking at a recording of this fight now I still feel that way, though now I know why I felt that way. There were a number of things that went on before, after, and during this fight that were not typical of a Muhammad Ali fight.
For one thing, this was one of the only black opponents whom Ali faced where he didn’t demean him and come up with some disgraceful name for him. He called Ernie Terrell an Uncle Tom, Floyd Patterson a rabbit, and Liston was the ugly bear. In the future he would use the term gorilla and to describe Joe Frazier and also call him an Uncle Tom. Ali showed no restraint in using racist language to insult his black opponents.
With Zora Folley he took a very different tone. He was subdued and spoke respectfully of his challenger. He brought up how Folley was a good family man with many children. He spoke of the respect he had for him. This was a very different Ali. Even after the fight he continued to praise him and even reached out to one of Zora’s sons telling him to be proud of his father.
If Ali’s behavior seemed odd, things were also a bit strange in the Folley Camp. Historian Mike Silver visited the gym where Folley was training and describes the atmosphere there as being filled with “…an air of depression.” Even though Zora was past his prime and getting his first shot at the title late in his career, he should have been embracing this moment. Finally, his dream of fighting for the championship had come true. Silver mentions others who didn’t get a chance until very late in their careers; fighters like Jersey Joe Walcott and Archie Moore, both of whom went all out once their long overdo opportunities finally arrived. There was none of this excitement in the Folley camp.
On the night of the bout Folley entered the ring quite a while earlier then Ali. He just remained seated on his stool while former champs and current contenders were introduced to the crowd (a great tradition that is now lost).When Ali made his entrance, Folley finally got up and loosened up a bit, but not much, odd behavior for a slick boxer who would normally want to break a sweat and be loose before the opening bell. Zora looked more like he would rather be someplace else then in the ring. It wasn’t a look of fear, but rather one of resignment. This was also strange behavior coming from a veteran of over 80 fights who had been in with most of the top contenders of his day including Sonny Liston whom he showed no lack of confidence with.
The fight itself looked almost surreal. Ali danced and circled for the first three rounds while Folley jabbed to the body and threw a few right hand counters that grazed Ali’s chin. There was a definite lack of urgency to Zora’s moves, but I suppose that can be attributed to patience as he was a methodical boxer, though I think it was something else. Those three rounds could be given to Folley but more because of the lack of any aggression on the part of Ali.
The fourth round was interesting. Ali hit Folley with an overhand right that did not seem to carry much power, and Zora went down flat on his face. He appeared to be out cold, and usually when a fighter is stretched out like that he is unconscious, but miraculously, at the count of four Zora suddenly came to life. He did a push up and got onto one knee. From that position he carefully listened to the referee count to nine before getting up. He was clear as a bell. I have never seen anything like this since. This seemed more like something from pro wrestling then boxing. Was Folley thinking of taking the full count and then had second thoughts? That’s what I believe.
Once he regained his feet he went right after Ali landing a good right that he did not follow up on. It was the only time in the bout where looked like he wanted to really win, but it was short lived.
The next couple of rounds were fairly slow though Ali did pick up the pace and won them. Between the sixth and seventh rounds, Ali’s manager Herbert Muhammad climbed up to the champion’s corner and whispered something in his ear. Afterwards, Ali would say that Herbert told him to stop playing around and get to work.
In the seventh round Ali came out and hit Zora with two overhand rights that were carbon copies of what he threw in the fourth. Again, Zora went down on his face, and again he came back to life, only this time instead of taking a knee he stumbled around the ring while the referee counted him out. He left the ring quickly after the announcer gave the official time of the ending of the fight.
In a New York Times wire story filed after the fight, Robert Lipsyte described the punch that floored Folley as a “phantom chop” and compared it with the punch that dropped Liston in Lewiston, Maine. Ali himself briefly described it as the Anchor Punch, the term he had used for the blow he hit Liston with. He quickly backtracked on that statement.
After watching this fight a number of times, I believe Zora Folley took a dive. Why would he do that? Well, it is pretty well known that most of Ali’s opponents received death threats before facing him. I think this happened to Folley and that it really had an effect on him. I think the Zora Foley who stepped into the ring that night was in fear of his life. Not because he was facing the fists of Ali, but because of what went on leading up to the fight. Of course, we’ll never know for sure.
Leonard Nimoy, who was born and raised in Boston’s West End, passed away recently. While Mr. Nimoy was never a boxer, and is best known for his role as Mr. Spock in the Star Trek TV series and movies, boxing did have a part in shaping his acting career.
I was never a big fan of Star Trek, but I have always found Leonard Nimoy to be a very fascinating man outside of the role he is famous for. He led a very interesting life and was active in many different art forms. Not only was he a TV and movie star, he also spent time on stage, was an accomplished photographer, poet, narrator, and even released a record album.
I recently viewed a 2014 documentary, “Leonard Nimoy’s Boston”, his son Adam made about him. Mr. Nimoy and Adam spend time reminiscing and walking through the areas of Boston where Leonard grew up. The stories are wonderful to listen to, (tales of selling newspapers, working for a vacuum cleaner dealer, and selling greeting cards), and it brings us back to a very different Boston then the one we know now, before urban renewal destroyed a vibrant neighborhood and displaced many poor but happy families.
The old West End was a lively neighborhood where many immigrants first settled when they came to this country. Leonard’s parents arrived here from Ukraine and were Jewish. There were many Jews in the area and also a huge population of Italians plus many other ethnic groups. The West End was a beautiful representation of the American Melting Pot.
The Nimoys lived at 87 Chambers Street, which has since been covered over by the Charles River Park luxury apartments. Three doors down from their building was a synagogue where the Nimoys would worship. The only remaining Jewish House of Worship from that period is the Vilna Shul on Phillips Street . A number of years ago Leonard Nimoy narrated a documentary about the Vilna Shul in an effort to raise money to restore and preserve it. Towards the end of the film the camera zooms in briefly on a golden pair of hands that appear to be giving the Vulcan sign of greeting. Mr. Nimoy in interviews has said that it was his memories of seeing this ancient symbol while worshipping that gave him idea for it in the Star Trek series. He remembered seeing worshipers using it while he was at the synagogue and thought it was a beautiful gesture, and seeing that Earthlings of all backgrounds make some gesture towards each other when first meeting, be it a handshake, bow, salute, or something else, he thought it would be fitting for Vulcans to have such a thing. I believe it was in a Boston synagogue that the young “Spock” first saw this, so I think Boston can take some credit for what has become a gesture of peace known throughout the galaxies.
Leonard got his first taste of acting at the Elizabeth Peabody Community Settlement House at 357 Charles St. While there he was spotted by a priest who was so impressed with his talent that he offered to fund 50% of a scholarship for him to attend a summer acting program at Boston College, and offer the young Nimoy jumped at. It would take years before he found success in the world of acting. While working to get by he tells the story of the time he was driving a cab in California when a young Jack Kennedy hailed him. They had a wonderful conversation in which they compared the commonalities in politics and acting. Kennedy told him that while there were many competing for leading roles in both professions, “There was always room for one more good one.”
So, where does boxing fit into all of this? Well, it turns out the first major film role Mr. Nimoy had was as a boxer in the movie “Kid Monk Baroni”. I watched the movie recently and it is pretty good. The future Mr. Spock plays the lead role of Monk Baroni, an angry young man with a disfigured face who finds an outlet for his anger in the boxing ring. It is appropriate that a priest leads him in this direction as that mirrors his journey to acting in his own life. The movie follows the usual boxing movie formula with the leading man finding success in the ring and love outside of it only to squander both but to be led back to a good and meaningful life by his friends who never lose faith in him. Jack Larson, who portrayed Jimmy Olsen in the Superman TV series, plays Monk’s best friend Angelo. Bruce Cabot is Monk’s manager Mr. Hellman. Cabot is best remembered for his role in the original King Kong with Fay Wray. The entire movie was filmed in nine days and Mr. Nimoy was paid less then a thousand dollars for the part. It did receive decent reviews and was shown at the Bowdoin Square Movie House where the marquee proudly proclaimed “The West End’s Own Leonard Nimoy Starring in Kid Monk Baroni”.
Mr. Nimoy has said that the role did not lead to fame and fortune, it would be many more years before that happened, but it did something very important for him. He said it gave him the confidence that he could do the work. This confidence would serve to motivate him to keep sticking with it until he finally made it. He had the determination of a championship boxer. Oh, and he also showed some good footwork and hand movement in the movie. I have not been able to find out if he ever actually spent any time in the ring outside of the movie, but he certainly showed ability in the scenes I saw.
In 2012 Mr. Nimoy was given an honorary degree by Boston University. In his speech he said to the graduates, “You are the creators and curators of your own life and work. Give us your best. We crave it, we hunger for it.” Leonard Nimoy always gave us his best and we are all the better for it.
Curtis Cokes held the welterweight title from 1966 to 1969. He was born and raised in Dallas,Texas, where he still resides. Curtis was a gifted all-around athlete in high school, excelling in baseball and basketball. He earned all-state honors in both sports and briefly played basketball for the Harlem Stars, a professional touring team.
Welterweight champion Curtis Cokes.
Curtis first laced on the gloves at a local YMCA and was undefeated in 22 amateur bouts before turning pro in 1958. This was at a time when there were eight weight divisions and eight undisputed champions. (How quaint!) By the mid-1960s Curtis had become a top rated welterweight contender. Like all of his contemporaries he acquired contender status the old fashioned way—he earned it. (Also quaint by today’s standards). During his climb to the title he sharpened his considerable boxing skills against the likes of Stefan Redl, Joe Miceli, Kenny Lane, Manny Alvarez, Jose Stable, Stan Harrington, Stanley “Kitten” Hayward, Billy Collins and in three memorable bouts with the great Luis Rodriguez.
The boxing world first took notice of Curtis Cokes when he upset future welterweight champion Luis Rodriguez in 1961. Rodriguez outpointed Curtis in their rematch four months later. The rubber match took place on July 6, 1966 in New Orleans. The bout was the semi-final of a tournament to determine a new welterweight champion. Curtis stopped Rodriguez in the 15th round, thus becoming the only fighter to stop the great Cuban welterweight in his prime. Less than two months later, in the final bout of the tournament, Curtis outpointed Manny Gonzales to win the crown vacated by Emile Griffith.
Curtis Cokes had an elegant and refined boxing style of a type that is all but extinct today. He was adept at both offense and defense but was primarily a counter-puncher— skills that were admired and appreciated by knowledgeable boxing fans. (Films of several of his fights are available on YouTube). After five successful defenses, including impressive KOs over Charlie Shipes and Willie Ludick, he lost the title to the great Jose Napoles on April 4th 1969. With both eyes nearly swollen shut Cokes’ manager told the referee to stop the fight before the start of the 13th round. The rematch, two months later, ended similarly with Cokes unable to continue beyond the 10th round. Curtis fought for three more years before hanging up his gloves. He compiled a 62-14-4 record, including 30 knockouts. Napoles and Hayward were the only fighters to stop him. In 1972 Curtis gave a credible acting performance in “Fat City”, a boxing movie directed by John Huston.
After he retired from boxing Curtis was involved in various business ventures but he always remained close to the sport he loved. In 1980 he wrote, with co-author Hugh Kayser, The Complete Book of Boxing for Fighters and Fight Fans. I consider it the best boxing instruction book of the past 70 years. The book has reportedly sold more than 77,000 copies. He currently owns and operates Curtis Cokes’ Home of Champions Boxing Gym in Dallas where the emphasis is on serving his community through an amateur boxing program geared to keeping young people off the streets.
Today, at the age of 76, Curtis Cokes is healthy and mentally sharp, with an amazing memory for the details of his career. Fortunately, he exhibits no ill effects from his 80 professional bouts—a testament to his superb defensive skills, physical conditioning and knowing when to hang up his gloves. Aside from being an old school fighter Curtis is also an old school gentleman. He is gracious, engaging and warm. Interviewing this Hall of Fame boxer was a delightful experience.
My thanks to mutual friend Ken Burke for providing contact information for Curtis.
INTERVIEW:
Mike Silver: Champ, the purists loved your smooth delivery and emphasis on basic fundamentals such as the left jab, footwork, counter punching and defense. I count myself lucky to have seen you fight on television. When I told a few older fans (who also saw you fight) that I was going to interview you their first words were, “He was a good boxer”. That is how you are remembered—that and your tremendous victories over the great Luis Rodriguez. How do you go about conveying your storehouse of knowledge to the young students at your gym?
Curtis Cokes: Before we start teaching fundamentals that involve throwing and blocking punches, or how to get away from punches, I get their legs in shape. We work on walking and running forward and backward. Footwork is such an important part of the sport. When I played baseball and basketball I knew I had to get my legs in shape because the legs are what carry the body. I think today’s fighters forget about footwork. I worked every day on my footwork, turning left and right, backing up, going forward. I turned to my left to be outside of my opponent’s right hand, and then I’d swing to my right to be outside of his left jab. Learning how to box is a slow process but you try to learn something every day.
MS: Speaking of footwork, in my book, The Arc of Boxing, I asked the great ballet dancer Edwin Villella, who was a champion amateur boxer before he became a ballet star, to explain the similarities between the two disciplines. You cover the same topic in The Complete Book of Boxing. Quoting from your book: “The balance and rhythm of a dancer are also important, for a boxer must be able to move quickly and change his tempo and direction at will…maneuverability is of extreme importance. An almost ballet type of body coordination gives a fighter a distinct edge.”
CC: The balance of a dancer is tremendous, and like a dancer a boxer has to be able to move and dance while maintaining his balance. You have to be able to have good balance to throw your punches. When I played with the Harlem Stars basketball team I used to watch Goose Tatum, how he would get in position and block people out. It was amazing to see him do that so smoothly. Goose Tatum’s coordination and balance was outstanding.
MS: Aside from footwork, what do you see as the main difference between the boxers of your generation and today’s practitioners?
CC: Today it’s all about hitting and that’s all it is…just go out and hit, hit, hit. They don’t learn the fundamentals of boxing. They don’t get a Ph.D. in boxing—how to block, roll, duck, slip and get away from punches– to hit and not get hit. You have to learn the smart part of boxing, because you want to come out of it the same as you went in. Most guys just fight, fight, fight, but “fighting” isn’t “boxing”. It’s an intelligent sport and you have to be smart to be able to succeed in it. If you just go toe to toe it becomes a toughman contest and the toughman wins. It’s not a science anymore. You don’t have to be smart to box anymore. There is no sport called “fighting”, it’s called professional boxing. A big part of the problem is we don’t have the trainers that we used to have. There are not too many people that know how to train fighters.
MS: Who was your trainer?
CC: I had two trainers: Robert Thomas was my first coach and Robert “Cornbread” Smith was the coach with all the experience. He was back in Joe Louis’s day and he was a good trainer. My manager was Doug Lord. Doug was a good manager and he took care of me. He was not only my manager, he was my friend. I knew the boxing game and Doug, who owned an insurance company, knew about business.
MS: You became welterweight champion in your 53rd professional fight. Two months ago a fighter with only 19 pro fights won a welterweight title belt. The fighter he dethroned had all of 24 pro bouts.
CC: I don’t think there are as many fighters available as in my day. Most become champions before they are ready to be champions. To be a champion you’ve got to have fought some of the best fighters in the world. Even if you lose to some of the great guys it’s not a shame to lose to a great fighter. You can learn from the experience. You have to take it step by step. You go from first grade to the tenth grade and then you graduate. Instead of learning the game they want to fight for a title too early even before they learn to tie their gloves on. You’ve got 10 fights and you’re fighting for a title. Back in the day you had to have at least 30 or 40 fights to get the experience before you challenged for a title. Baseball players don’t go to the major leagues until they prove themselves in the minor leagues, then they go to the major leagues. It’s a step by step process. Just because you can hit a guy and knock him out doesn’t mean you can get up there and fight.
MS: As a young boxer did you have any role models that you wanted to imitate?
CC: I learned from two of the best—Joe Brown and Sugar Ray Robinson. I watched those guys when they were fighting. I tried to copy their style. I tried to copy Ray’s style but I worked with Joe Brown. I trained with him when I was a kid and he was lightweight champion of the world. I went to Houston and sparred with him and he told me that I was going to be a champion. Brown would show me how he would throw punches and miss them on purpose to make a guy move his head in the range of his right hand. And I started doing it—I would purposely miss a jab on the outside so my opponent would move his head to the inside where he was in my right hand range. I was a good right hand puncher. I don’t see anybody doing that today. I saw “Kitten” Hayward do it. So did Luis Rodriguez. Emile Griffith did some of that. Those fighters, they were smarter than these guys today who just go out there and hit.
MS: Did anyone else influence your style of boxing?
CC: I sparred with (former middleweight champion) Carl “Bobo” Olson in Honolulu, Hawaii when I went over there to box one time. (Note: Cokes outpointed Stan Harrington on May 21, 1963 in Honolulu). They all told me I was going to be champion of the world one day and they helped me quite a bit. I got Olson’s jab and I got Joe Brown’s movement and his right hand, and I picked up all this stuff from these guys. You have to learn how to box and you have to learn it well. You go to school to learn your ABC’s and you have to learn boxing the same way.
MS: Were feints part of your repertoire?
CC: Oh yes! One of my favorite feints was a silent right hand. I would feint the jab and throw the right hand. My trainer called it a silent right hand because you didn’t know I was going to throw it. You thought I was going to throw the jab, but I’d feint the jab and throw the right hand. Sometimes I would throw a double right hand.
MS: What about body punches?
CC: When I wanted to get your hands down I’d go to the body. I’d hook to the body and hook to the head, or throw a right hand to the body and a right hand to the head. But I wasn’t a vicious body puncher. I went to the head mostly. I was a counter puncher and I would hit guys when they weren’t ready to be hit. I was always in good shape and I could move and take a fairly good punch.
MS: Did you have a favorite combination?
CC: I had a good right uppercut, left hook, right hand combination. I used it to good effect when I knocked out (Luis) Rodriguez. That was one of my favorite punches.
MS: You spoke of learning the finer points of boxing technique from role models early in your career. Two of today’s best fighters are Floyd Mayweather Jr. and Manny Pacquiao, both of whom fight in your weight class. Would you consider them good role models for young boxers to emulate in terms of their boxing styles?
CC: No, I would not. It would be difficult to learn anything from them. Both are unorthodox boxers with natural styles that work for them. But what works for them would not work for most other boxers. It would be difficult to imitate. They don’t have anything that they can put on paper because they don’t know what they are going to do next. They don’t have a plan. They just go out there and fight and whatever comes to their mind happens automatically. You have to have a plan and you have to have a style. I had a style you could learn from because it was based on solid fundamentals. I threw the one-two-threes, and I threw them correctly. And if you throw punches correctly you will score. And if you do it correctly you will succeed in boxing. Pacquiao and Mayweather are doing something that nobody else can do and you don’t have any trainers today that can show people how to offset what they are doing. There are very few fighters today with the type of skills I would want my kids to watch and imitate. There are some guys I’m impressed with but they are mostly fighting—not boxing. Some of my guys would come to the gym excited after watching a fight on TV and say “did you see that?” I’d say don’t watch that particular fighter. I’d tell them to watch tapes of Ali or Sugar Ray Leonard and see how they use the jab and footwork—certain things that I wanted them to pick up on.
MS: Floyd Mayweather Jr. has done very well with his unorthodox style and extraordinary speed and reflexes. How would he have done if we time travel him back to the 1960s to face the best fighters of your era?
CC: I think he would have done pretty well, but he would have had way more trouble in my day than today because the fighters were much better. They were more knowledgeable. They had a Ph.D. in boxing. These guys today just go in there and fight off the top of their heads. They don’t have a plan and they don’t know what they are doing. They haven’t gone to school.
MS: Could fighters such as Emile Griffith, Luis Rodriguez, Jose Napoles, Carlos Ortiz and Curtis Cokes—all of whom were outstanding orthodox boxers— defeat Mayweather and Pacquaio.
CC: I definitely think that. Today’s champions would have a much harder time to get to a title because they would have to come through fighters of my ability and I think the top guys back in my day learned everything you could learn about boxing.
MS: How would you have fought Floyd? How would you cope with his tremendous speed?
CC: His speed is nothing I hadn’t seen before. You can throw punches and have speed but if there’s nothing there you will hit air. His speed won’t bother me. Luis Rodriguez had tremendous speed and I slowed him down. I would fight Floyd the same way I fought everybody else. I would work with my jab–make him move away from my jab. While worrying about getting away from my jab I would hit with my good right hand and left hook and I’d go home early.
MS: Your first victory over Luis Rodriguez in 1961 was considered quite an upset. At the time he had only one loss in 40 fights.
CC: Rodriguez beat everyone but he had a problem with me. Angelo Dundee (Rodriguez’s manager and trainer) didn’t want the fight. But Luis, to his credit, wanted to fight me. He wanted to fight the best. I don’t blame him. I wanted to fight the best also. In our first fight I outboxed and outmaneuvered him. He was throwing wide punches and I was throwing straight short punches so I got inside of him and beat him to the punch. That first fight in Dallas (August 1961) was easy. I had him down and won a decision. I had a style that bothered him. Angelo tried to change his style to fight me. He wanted him to be more of a puncher with me instead of being a boxer, like he was. But that only made it easier for me to cope with. I was always good at luring guys into my style of boxing, and that’s what good fighters do. You make the guy fight your fight. In our third fight, a month before I won the title, I stopped him in the 15th round. He got hit with a couple of shots and couldn’t come back. Luis had a good chin but I had a good right hand.
MS: You lost the welterweight title to the great Jose Napoles in 1969 and failed to regain the title two months later. What happened in those fights?
CC: Napoles was on his way up and I was on my way out. It was time for me to sit down because I’d been there for a while. In the second fight I broke his ribs. I went to his body real good but it was time for me to go. I’d had my day. I took a few fights I should not have taken. It was time for me to retire. In both of our fights his punches caused my eyes to become very swollen. I couldn’t see. (Cokes’ corner would not let him come out for the 13th round of their first fight). He damaged my right eye real bad.
MS: What would have happened if you had fought Napoles in your prime?
CC: If I fought Jose in my prime we would both have to retire after that fight (laughs).
MS: Luis Rodriguez and Jose Napoles were two of the greatest welterweight champions to ever wear the crown. You fought both of them. Who would have won had they met in their primes?
CC: I really don’t know. That would have been a good fight. Rodriguez didn’t hit as hard as Napoles, but he threw more punches.
MS: The other big superstar of today’s boxing scene is Manny Pacquiao. Would his unorthodox style have given you problems?
CC: He probably would, but if he ran into my good right hand then he would straighten up too. You know, the shortest distance between two points is a straight line and that’s what I would do. I’d throw straight punches and he’d run into my good right hand and my jab. It would be a good fight because I’m not a wild swinger like he is. I throw punches straight and it would probably take me some time to hit him on the chin but when I did we could go home.
MS: Boxing has changed in many ways from the time when you were champion of the world. For example, many fighters have incorporated weightlifting into their training routines. What do you think of that trend?
CC: I used little hand weights of not more than two pounds. I would shadow box with them. I never used the big weights to make muscles. Just two pound weights. I would walk around the house with them. Big muscles slow you down. You don’t want your muscles to be tight and pumped up because you can’t use your arms if they’re pumped like that. Weightlifting is not for boxing. It’s for football players who need the muscles to tackle an opposing player or throw him down. You have to have smooth muscles like a basketball player if you are to throw your punches correctly. The heavy bag is an important tool for creating punching power, not lifting heavy weights.
MS: Speaking of strong punchers let’s discuss two of the best—Tommy Hearns and Roberto Duran.
CC: Tommy Hearns was a good puncher but he didn’t have a real good chin. He needed to work on his defense more than he needed to work on his offense. He was easy to hit. I would have hit him. Duran had to come to you in order to score. He couldn’t stand on the outside and outbox anybody. I’m boxing. I could have beaten both Ray Leonard and Roberto Duran at welterweight.
MS: Let’s discuss some of your other opponents. Before you entered your prime fighting years you lost to Stanley “Kitten” Hayward and Jose Stable. Both fights were televised nationally.
CC: They said Kitten was a welterweight but when I fought him he looked more like a middleweight or small light heavy. He was the strongest boxer I ever fought. I could hit him all day long but he was so big and strong. He caught me with a good shot and had me down three times before they stopped the fight. But I had him down also. Jose Stable was a very good bob and weave pressure fighter. It was my first time fighting on national TV. I started strong but just didn’t fight enough during the last few rounds. Even so, it was a very close decision.
MS: The Hayward fight was a real barn burner and can be seen on YouTube. He does indeed look much bigger than you. In fact Don Dunphy, who was announcing the fight at ringside, comments about the disparity in size. The fight took place in Hayward’s home town of Philadelphia. Do you think there was some funny business with the scale?
CC: Well, it could have been. We were not allowed to weigh in at the same time. I complained about that because he got on the scale and was gone when I arrived. We never did get the chance to watch him get on the scale. I know good and well he was no 147 pounds. But I’m not using that as an excuse. It had nothing to do with him winning the fight because I had beaten big guys like that. He just caught me with a good shot that got me out of there.
MS: You knocked Hayward down with three solid punches just before the bell ended the second round. If you had caught him with those punches a minute earlier do you think the result might been different.
CC: It’s possible. I don’t know if he could have gotten up and recovered in time.
MS: What do you think of the current rule that has fighters weigh-in a day before the fight?
CC: I think it’s better to have a weigh-in on the day of the fight because you’d know for sure you have a 147 pounder against a 147 pounder. If you weigh-in the day before the fight you know you’re not going to get in that ring at 147—probably more like 157.
MS: In 1972 you had a significant role in “Fat City” a major Hollywood movie about boxing. How did that come about?
CC: John Huston, the director, knew about me as a boxer and asked me to audition for the part. It was hard work. You had to remember your lines. If somebody else remembered their lines and did it well and you missed yours they had to reshoot and the actors would get mad. I didn’t have to threaten any of them but they knew not to mess with me because I would shadow box while waiting for the next scene (laughs). It was a nice experience and I had a good time with Stacey Keach, Susan Tyrrell and Jeff Bridges. Those guys helped me quite a bit with my lines. They were tremendous with helping me. I got called for another part but I was in Paris with one of my fighters so I missed it. They wanted me to go to acting school but I was so busy doing my boxing thing with my guys.
MS: Do you have any regrets about your boxing career?
CC: Not at all. I did well in boxing. I started out wanting to be world champion and I accomplished that. I’m in the Hall of Fame. I retired from boxing because it was time for me to go. Nobody took advantage of me. Before I became a pro I attended college for two years. I had a good education. I knew how to take care of myself. I knew how to count my money too. I didn’t need a manager to count my money to me. I counted out my money to him.
Springs Toledo is well known in boxing circles as a very good writer who also knows his boxing. Whether writing about Harry Greb or one of the current champions, his style is a throwback to the days when boxing writers knew the craft of writing as well as the sport. You do not have to be a boxing fan nor do you need a knowledge of the Sweet Science to enjoy his work. However, if you do know your boxing history Springs will make you think more deeply about it.
In his book The Gods Of War, Toledo has compiled a collection of his essays in the first section and then takes us on a run through his selection of the ten best fighters of the modern era (fighters who hit their prime after 1920) he calls this select group The Gods of War.
Reading the essays in the first section you will hear echoes, not imitations, of A.J. Leibling and Raymond Chandler. Springs is not attempting to set the clock back with his style of writing, but rather he understands that boxing is the perfect subject for interesting and creative writing. I think of the term coined by Gay Talese, creative non-fiction, when reading these pieces as they all have a certain sense of drama to them that deserves to be explored.
I was pleased to see four essays on Sonny Liston, a fighter much too little has been written about. Springs absolutely nails it when he discusses the Ali Liston fight that was called off in Boston. If that fight had taken place history may have been very different. Much of what is revealed here I know to be true.
He talks about Alexis Arguello and the suffering this very decent man lived with all his life, a life that ended tragically and too soon, but one that is not uncommon in boxing. Boxing has a way of focusing our attention on the unfairness and cruelties of life, and Toledo uses his pen to paint a picture of this reality.
In the section entitled The Gods of War, Springs has developed a criteria for rating the greatest fighters. These greatest of all time lists are always controversial and guaranteed to raise the hackles of boxing fans, but in this case the author has used a very interesting and solid system for rating his picks. Will you agree with his choices? Probably not. But that is part of the fun. What will happen is you will be forced to think more deeply about your own picks. This is not just a list, but a series of short pieces that give the reader insight into each of the Gods of War. I feel I am pretty knowledgeable about the sport having spent a lifetime around it, but I learned much by reading these essays. For instance, I had not known about the connection between the Bob Fitzsimmons Shift and Roberto Duran. I would advise not jumping to the end to see the pick for the top spot, but rather read and savor each bio has you work your way to the end. There are surprises, but Springs backs up each of his choices with his terrific writing and deep insight.
There are many books on boxing being published today. Some very good, some that are labors of love that just don’t measure up, and some that would have been better off remaining as trees. The Gods of War is one that deserves to be read by everyone with an interest in boxing, an appreciation of good writing, and those with an a desire to know more about the human condition. I know it will remain in my library for many years to come.
Shadow Boxing With Golovkin
A couple of weeks ago I watched the Gennady Golovkin Daniel Geale bout on television. I saw something before the bout when the cameras were in Golovkin’s dressing room, something you rarely if ever see today, Gennady was shadow boxing. This used to be common practice as fighters warmed up for their bouts, loosening up and getting ready to do battle. Today, they are usually spending their time warming up while robotically playing patty cake on the mitts with a trainer or having batons swung at them. Golovkin actually moves around the room getting loose and is practicing the movements he will be using in the ring. His mind is engaged. He is not just going through drills and repeating the same moves over and over again. He is visualizing his opponent in front of him, imagining what he will be facing in the ring. He is getting his body ready while engaging his mind.
Golovkin is a very good fighter. He showed that when he rolled with a right hand while delivering his own knockout punch in the Geale fight. He has power, is in great shape all the time, and knows how to think in there. He knows how to slip punches and create angles. He has been well taught and is learning his craft. He is also a class act, behaving as a gentleman before and after a bout. There is no cheap talk or language you wouldn’t want you kids to hear. He carries himself well and sets a very good example.
I do see problems for him though. I think he can dominate the division, but I doubt we will ever see him reach his full potential. We may even see him regress a bit. This is because he does not have the level of competition to force him to improve. At this stage in his career he should still be forced to learn in each fight he has. He is a very focused and intellectual boxer, but he does not have the peers to pressure him to go beyond where he is now. I saw some signs that he was getting just a bit sloppy in the Geale match. This is not to take anything away from him, it just shows that he is so good he does not have to pay for his mistakes. I doubt his camp is even able to find good sparring for him. In an earlier age they would have had solid journeyman sparring partners for a fighter like Gennady. Guys that would make him work in there, forcing him to hone his skills and continue to learn new moves. I hope he continues to improve so we get to see if he is able to develop into a great fighter, but I fear that instead of improving, he may be brought down by the caliber of fighters he is facing in today’s game. He is very smart. He is very talented. I want him to prove me wrong.
The photo of Holman Williams and Marcel Cerdan which accompanies this article, having a conversation on a Paris rooftop has always fascinated me. I first saw it in the International Boxing Research Organization Journal, and Dan Cuoco, the director of that fine organization shared it with me. On July 7, 1946 Williams and Cerdan fought each other in Paris with Cerdan winning a decision over the American. Holman Williams was one of a group of boxers that came to be known as The Black Murderers’ Row. Others in this elite crowd were Charley Burley, Cocoa Kid, Eddie Booker, Bert Lytell, Loyd Marshall, Jack Chase, and Aaron “Tiger” Wade. All were great fighters who never got a shot at the title partly because of race, and partly because they were just too good. Author Harry Otty has written a fine book chronicling the careers of these boxers who deserve to be recognized by all boxing fans. His book, “Charley Burley and The Black Murderers Row’’, is a must read for anyone interested in the history of the sport.
In this photo, we see Williams who is at this point on the downside of his career, speaking with Cerdan who would two years later win the Middleweight Title from Tony Zale. I don’t know if this was taken before or after the bout, but it is interesting to see how intently they are listening and speaking to each other. This is not a photo of two wise mouth punks talking trash to each other, but of two professionals, of two gentlemen spending some time together. Are they talking about their fight? About boxing in general and the techniques they use? Perhaps they are having a conversation about the cultural scene in Paris. What I find striking is how relaxed they are with each other. These are two great fighters who would, or have already, put on a very tough fight; yet they are completely at ease in each other’s company. In this photo, both men convey class and dignity. The backdrop of Paris further enhances them. Both are impeccably dressed and could easily pass for a couple of writers or actors. It is a snapshot of a very different and interesting time. Take a moment to study this picture and let your mind wander to just what their conversation was about that July afternoon on a rooftop in Paris.
Strong Boy, The Life and Times of John L. Sullivan
America’s First Sports Hero
By Christopher Klein Published by Lyons Press
John L. Sullivan was America’s first larger then life sports star, and author Christopher Klein has written a fine account of the Boston Strong Boy. Sullivan, the son of Irish immigrants who had arrived in Boston during the great wave of Irish migration in the mid nineteenth century, was born in Boston’s South End, not Roxbury as many have believed. He made a reputation for himself at an early age with his amazing strength, intimidating stare, and powerful right hand punch.
Klein’s book follows Sullivan’s life in detail and shows just how the Great John L was the right man at the right time to win the adoration of fans nationwide. His fistic talent along with his magnetic personality and booming voice made him an instant celebrity. But, he never would have attained the prominence he did had it not been for the completion of the intercontinental railroad system. This feat of technology, comparable with the internet today, allowed Sullivan to crisscross the country putting on exhibitions and taking on all comers in four round matches. For the first time, Americans were able to see one of their heroes up close, sometimes too close, because Sullivan’s proclivity to drink would make him a very difficult character to control.
I learned much about John L from Klein’s book. Many things I didn’t know, such as the fact that after Gentleman Jim Corbett defeated Sullivan for the crown, the men would later engage in at least two exhibition matches. That Sullivan was a somewhat talented actor who loved performing on the stage, and that he was the first athlete to earn over a million dollars, most of which went to living the high life. The only fault I find in this book is that often times I found myself wanting more details about some of the events, such as the time in Augusta Georgia where Sullivan, who had been drinking heavily grew so verbally abusive that a train hand knocked him out. Surely, this was a big deal, and I would love to have had more details about that incident. I found this book a very interesting read and highly recommend it.
Boxing At City Hall Plaza
June 29th
This Sunday a live boxing show will take place out doors at City Hall Plaza in Boston. It is the Neighborhood Youth challenge and will feature a team of young amateurs from the local gyms going up against a team of boxers from Connemara, Ireland. Outdoor boxing in Boston is a bit of a throwback to the days of the Great John L and should be a lot of fun. I hope to see you there.
The boxing world was saddened by the recent death of former WBA Heavyweight Champion Jimmy Ellis. Ellis passed after a long battle with dementia pugilistica. For years Jimmy was best known for being Muhammad Ali’s sparring partner, but it is unfair to remember him for that. Jimmy Ellis was a superb boxer puncher who rose through the ranks beginning his professional career as a middleweight.
Jimmy Ellis fought in what was probably the most competitive era in heavyweight boxing.
Ellis and Ali were both from Louisville, Kentucky and began as boxing as amateurs under the tutelage of Officer Joe Martin. They fought twice before turning pro with the young Clay winning their first encounter, and Jimmy taking the decision in the rematch.
Ellis turned pro under the management of Bud Bruner with whom he compiled a record of 15-5 with 6 knockouts. Jimmy’s losses were to Ruben “Hurricane” Carter, George Benton, Henry Hank, Don Fullmer, and Holly Mims, whom he defeated in a rematch. All of these opponents were top rated contenders, and many of the losses were by very close decision.
Jimmy left Bruner and began training with his old friend Ali under the tutelage of Angelo Dundee. He also put on weight moving up to light heavyweight and then heavyweight. Ellis scored a spectacular one round knock out of Jimmy Persol in 1967. This win catapulted him onto the world stage and earned him a berth in the WBA Heavyweight Tournament to find a successor to Ali who had been wrongfully stripped of his title for refusing to be inducted into the Army.
Ellis was considered a long shot to win the title, but he surprised everyone by stopping Leotis Martin, winning a decision over Oscar Bonavena in a fight where he dropped the tough Argentinean twice, and then defeating Jerry Quarry over fifteen rounds to win the title in 1968. Later that year he would successfully defend his crown against Floyd Patterson.
In the meantime, Joe Frazier, who had chosen not to enter the WBA tournament, defeated Buster Mathis in a fight recognized by the New York State Athletic Commission as being for the World Championship. It was just a matter of time before the two would meet to unify the title.
On February 2, 1970 Frazier and Ellis stepped into the ring at Madison Square Garden to decide who the better fighter was. Ellis was coming off a layoff of a year and a half, while Frazier had remained active and was at the peak of his ability. Jimmy put on a valiant effort landing a number of strong right hands on Joe, but Frazier was unstoppable that night. After decking Ellis twice in the fourth round, Angelo Dundee stopped the fight before the bell rang for round five.
Ellis would never again challenge for the title, but he did fight his old friend Muhammad Ali in a twelve round bout in 1971, with Ali stopping him in the final round.
Jimmy Ellis fought in what was probably the most competitive era in heavyweight boxing. There were many exciting bouts at that time with so many of the contestants being evenly matched. Also, the top fighters did not duck each other. When the public clamored for a unification bout between Ellis and Frazier, both men agreed to fight. What a contrast to today when fight fans have been waiting years for Mayweather and Pacquiao. In the 70s just about every top fighter met at some point. Ron Lyle, Jerry Quarry, George Chuvalo, Earnie Shavers, Jimmy Young, and many others were in the mix. Many, if not most of the matches then were highly competitive as the fighters were evenly matched. Before these fights, fans would argue for hours over who would win, and no one could be sure. It was a very exciting time for boxing.
Jimmy Ellis was not a big heavyweight, but his years working his way up from middleweight to heavyweight were a time when he learned his craft.
Jimmy Ellis was not a big heavyweight, but his years working his way up from middleweight to heavyweight were a time when he learned his craft. Even though he had a number of losses, he was learning his trade, and he learned it well. He had a tremendous right hand, which he combined with great footwork and speed. This combination allowed him to defeat much stronger fighters such as George Chuvalo and Oscar Bonavena while also outspeeding Floyd Patterson, and outsmarting slick counter punching Jerry Quarry.
Jimmy’s career came to an end in 1975 after he was poked in the eye during a sparring session. The accident caused him to lose the sight in that eye. His career was now over, but unfortunately, it was too late. The years in the ring both in matches and the thousands of rounds of sparring in the gym had already taken their toll. For a number of years before his death he suffered the effects of dementia pugilistica, an Alzheimer’s type of disease that is the result of repeated blows to the head. Jimmy’s former rivals Jerry Quarry and Floyd Patterson suffered the same fate.
For years Jimmy Ellis lived under the shadow of having been Ali’s sparring partner, but make no mistake about it; Jimmy was a world class boxer puncher who fought and beat many of the top contenders of his day, and that was quite a day. Ellis was also a deeply religious man who sang Gospel along with his wife Mary Etta, who passed away in 2006.
Jimmy Ellis was a gentleman who never spoke a bad word about anyone.
Jimmy Ellis was a gentleman who never spoke a bad word about anyone. He never gave less then one hundred percent when he stepped into the ring. He always carried himself with dignity, and was a true Champion in the ring and out. He will be missed. Rest In Peace Champ.
Tinker Pincot
Rest In Peace
Former light heavy weight contender and long time Ring 4 member Jordan Tinker Picot passed away recently. Tinker was one of the hardest punching fighters to come out of the New England area with a pro record of 17-3-1 with all of his wins coming via knock out. At Ring 4 events Tinker was always one to elicit laughter and he will be missed by all of us.