"Today we have a lot of well conditioned athletes competing in professional boxing. Sadly, most of the training today focuses on athleticism, which is only part of what makes a great fighter. What we are lacking is true boxing skills, mastery of a brilliant art. The truth be known, there are few skilled teachers of this art today. No disrespect to the trainers who share their time & knowledge with young fighters, however, you can't teach what you don't know. For those of you who appreciate the best of boxing, we must turn around and look back in time. Here are a few masters of what has become "a lost art" . . . Robinson, Armstrong, Pep, Duran, Leonard (Benny & Sugar Ray) and a few more. Enjoy!"" - Rick Farris
Showing posts with label Rick Farris. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rick Farris. Show all posts
Saturday, March 22, 2014
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Smarter than Boxing's "Alphabet" Soup . . .
By Rick Farris
In 1976, Forum Boxing Promoter, Don Fraser, was riding high on a crest of success that began to take shape more than two decades earlier, at the legendary Hollywood Legion Stadium. The man who brought the second Ali-Norton match to L.A.'s fabulous Forum in 1973, had the two hardest punching 118 pounders on earth, WBC World Bantamweight Champ Carlos Zarate, and WBA Champ Alfonso Zamora, signed to fight in a 15-round match to unify the two titles.
Both were unbeaten, both had unbelieveable KO records, and there was bad blood between the two. Once stablemates under Cuyo Hernandez, Zamora broke off and was being guided by his father. Being unbeaten world champs was important, but more important to both was not who was considered the best in the world, but who was the best in Mexico. They both would carry heavy hands into the match, and few believed it would last ten rounds, let alone fifteen.
The WBC demanded a huge "sanctioning fee" to validate the title match. Sanctioning fees are expensive for a boxing promoter, as this bill gets paid right up front. In this case, the WBA was also involved as their title would also be at stake. An equally outrageous sanctioning fee. The "Alphabet Boys" knew this one was going to make major cash, a guaranteed sellout in a venue with a history of staging successful matches featuring the best from Mexico.
Fraser began running the numbers and wasn't happy. For nearly ten years he'd been working with Jack Kent Cooke, responsible for building the Forum's boxing program, bringing in legendary promoter George Parnassus, then bringing in weekly televised boxing, promoting the Ali-Norton rematch. Don knew the territory, had worked with the best from Mexico, and he understood the culture. Don also understood the foundation of producing a successfull show.
One of the hottest matches of the era was Zarate-Zamora. The title's held by both boxers were of little issue here. This was personal, and everybody wanted to see the fight, and don Fraser did something you don't see modern day promoters or cable companies do, he told the WBC and the WBA that he had decided to make the match a 10-round non-title fight. The Alphabet Mavens were speechless.
As expected, with no titles on the line, the fight was just as big and as great as it would have been had a belt been exchanged. The world knew at the end of this one who the best man was in the ring that night, the best in Mexico, the best in the world. And as Don Fraser knew from the beginning, this match didn't require a 15-round match. Zarate proved himself the best, KOing Zamora in an exciting match that lasted less than half of the scheduled ten rounds.
The money that would have gone into the cash vaults of the WBA & WBC, went instead into the accounts of those who worked for it, including the boxers. Best of all, the loser still had posession of his title, even if diluted by his loss.
At the time, a world title still meant something, however, the most important thing is the fight, not the title.
Now, who can tell me the name of every "world Champ" holding a title today?
Can you name a dozen, and also name the titles they hold?
A title means nothing, only the fight matters, and it takes a great promoter to make a great fight.
Monday, May 28, 2012
Raul Rojas: How We All Forget..... By Rick Farris
 |
| Raul Rojas |
How we all forget . . .
By Rick Farris
The notice of Johnny Tapia's passing has generated a lot of talk, memories. A great fighter, a unique story, one that was shared world wide via TV as was Tapia's career.
A few days ago, another world champ passed away. Like Tapia, he was a small fighter with a big fight inside him. A tough guy, a world champion. Like Tapia, he shared his career with drug and alochol abuse.
Of course, Johnny Tapia fought on network TV and cable TV, he was seen world wide, became a household name in the boxing community. Raul had the same impact on his fans, but they were those of us who watched him fight live, or on local TV in L.A. In Los Angeles, Rojas could sell out the Olympic. In New York, they didn't know who he was.
Johnny's death made the L.A. Times this morning, but Raul Rojas' has not, and Rojas died last week. Raul was a world champ, an L.A. guy who was a headliner during one of the city's greatest eras in boxing. He retired into a job as a Longshoreman, he worked the LA Harbor with other local boxing legends.
Rojas died days ago, and Don Fraser and I have both contacted the L.A. Times with news and info regarding the death of Raul Rojas, but have yet to acknowledge it in their paper. As Don and I know, most of the sports writer weren't alive 43 years ago when Raul won the world featherweight title. Because of this he was overlooked every year by the World Boxing Hall of Fame. I posted a Facebook message regarding Raul's funeral arraingments, for those who might like to pay their final respects to a world champion. There was no response to this either.
Raul's name might not make the L.A. Times Obituary column, but back in the day when he was King of the 126 pounders in boxing, it was mentioned often in their sports page. I don't know about anybody else who remembers Raul from his days as champ, but this friday, at 10am, I'll be at All Souls Mortuary in Long Beach, and paying my respects to a fallen champion.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Rick Farris on Sparring With a Legend
Roberto Duran and the Horseshoe
By Rick Farris
Navarro and I were stablemates and would often spar together. However, for this match Ruben had a group of sparring partners whose styles were more like Gonzales than mine. Two years previous, Ruben came close to upsetting then lightweight champ Ken Buchanan but lost a close decision. This would be another opportunity to win a version of the world title and he was taking no chances.
One day I arrived at the Main Street Gym shortly after Duran and Navarro had completed their workouts. I talked to Ruben in the dressing room as I laced up my boxing shoes. That day, Navarro had sparred with Duran and he seemed a little different than usual.
"This guy hits harder than anybody", Navarro said. "He hit me high on the forehead with a spent jab and it shook me all the way down my back to my toes". I had known Ruben for quite a few years and never heard him express respect for another fighter as he was Duran. It was almost as if he was intimidated, not in a cowardly sense, but in a way that caught me off guard. Navarro had fought and beaten some of the best lightweights and Jr. lightweights in the world during his career, so I had to believe what he was saying.
A few days later, I was in the gym at the same time as Duran and it was fascinating watching him train. He skipped rope like nobody I'd ever seen, including the great Sugar Ray Robinson. Duran could do things with a jump rope that made for quite a show. However, the most entertaining of all (aside from his sparring) was watching Roberto hit the speed bag with his head. I don't mean just banging it back and forth, Duran could make the bag dance with his head as well as most boxers do with their hands.
However, watching Duran spar was the real show. In fact, Duran didn't just spar, he fought all out regardless of who he was in the ring with and it was common for a sparring partner to hit the canvas and be out cold. When
Roberto would launch a body attack he'd fire vicious shots that would land with a thud. He'd let out a "yelp" as the punch was delivered. The high pitched noise coming from Duran's mouth would punctuate each blow and had an eerie effect. I was impressed, to say the least, and privately thought to myself, "Glad I'm a featherweight and won't have to fight this guy".
Little did I know that my manager had been talking with Duran's trainer, Freddie Brown, and had agreed to let me spar with Duran. It wasn't something I had a great desire to do, but a fighter doesn't show his feelings so when I got the news I just acted like it was no big deal. I was told that the only reason I'd be working with the larger Duran was for speed. I had fast hands and would provide quickness for Duran. Brown had assured my manager, Johnny Flores, that Duran would work lightly and not cut down on me.
Somebody must have forgot to tell Roberto the plan and about midway thru the opening round I found myself sitting on the canvas. I got up quickly and was OK but it occurred to me that I might be fighting for life. When the sparring resumed I understood what Navarro had meant when describing Duran's power. It was awesome, and even punches that most would consider average shots had something I'd never felt before. It was like being hit with baseball bat. Duran had 16 ounce training gloves on that looked to be padded, but it didn't feel like they were. This was before Roberto had been tagged "Manos de Piedra" or "Hands of Stone" in English. I can personally verify that this is more than just a nick name, it's a fact!
Duran is a guy who considers the ring his personal domain and anybody who stepped in with him was treated as if they were caught breaking into his home. The ring was Duran's office and he'd establish this immediately with anybody who entered, including me.
After the three rounds of torture with Duran, I punched the heavy bag. The champ finished sparring with two other boxers, a lightweight and a welterweight who was beaten so badly he left the ring trembling. After Duran stepped out of the ring Freddie Brown untied the champs gloves and pulled them off. I was resting between rounds on the heavy bag and moved closer to Duran to get a look at his hands. There had to be something harder than a fist inside the gloves and I wanted to see what it was.
Brown glanced over at me and said something to Duran in Spanish and the two began to laugh. I asked Brown "What did you say to him"? Brown just looked at me with a smile and answered, "I told him you were looking for the horseshoe".
I had to laugh, but honestly, that's exactly what I was doing. However, The only thing I found in Duran's gloves were his fists. Or as they would later be known, "Hands of Stone".
About a week later, at the Los Angeles Sports Arena, my friend and stablemate Ruben Navarro was stopped by Rudolfo Gonzalez in his last attempt to win a world title. In the fight before the title match, the real lightweight king Roberto Duran battered Javiar Ayala savagely and won a unanimous ten round decision.
With the feel of those rock hard fists still fresh in my mind, I knew that Javiar Ayala discovered the same thing that Navarro and I had just days before. The horseshoe had nothing on "Hands of Stone"
Thursday, March 01, 2012
Saturday, November 05, 2011
A Fighter and a Friend . . .
By Rick Farris
I was twelve when my family moved back to Burbank in 1964. This is where I would begin junior high school. I came from Orange County, where I grew up having more than my share of school yard fights. I expected being the new kid in class, somebody was going to try me, and I was ready, but it never happened. The kids in Burbank were a lot more mellow than I was used to, so I rarely had a fight.
I was one of the smaller guys in my class, but I was pretty much an athlete, and I'd meet another kid who was the same. He was my size and a great athlete, good runner. His name was Frankie Santillan, and he and I kind of hit it off.
At the time, I was totally into boxing. I dreamed of being a boxer and was looking for a place to make my dream come true. I would find out that Frankie also liked boxing, and that his dad Max was also a boxing guy. After school, I'd bring my boxing gloves over the Frankie's house and we'd box in the backyard. Frank's younger brother Maxie would referee. Afterwards Frankie would grab a couple of his dad's boxing magazines and we'd talk about some of the fighters of the era. I remember us discussing Joey Giambra one day. About twenty-five years later I'd meet Giambra, and as we discussed his career, I thought about the day Frankie mentioned it to me. We also talked about Davey Moore, the featherweight champ who had died in the ring a couple years earlier, in the only boxing event to ever be held at Dodger Stadium.
A couple years later, my parents bought a home on the other side of town and we moved. After that I didn't see Frankie, we would attend different high schools. Shortly after moving I began my boxing career, training under Johnny Flores who managed heavyweight contender Jerry Quarry. I fought in the Junior Golden Gloves for nearly three years before I would see my old pal Frankie Santillan again. As we began the 1968 Jr. Golden Gloves tournament, I was fighting in the 96-105 pound weight class, in the Open division. As I looked over a program for the upcoming round of eliminations, I see a name that caught me totally by surprise, Frankie Santillan. Frank was fighting out of Canto Robledo's "Crown City Boxing Club" in Pasadena. He was fighting in my same weight class, but in the Novice division. Like me, Frankie Santillan was on a path that would one day lead both of us to make our professional boxing debuts while still attending high school.
I won the Open division championship that year. And Frankie Santillan won in the Novice division. Frankie was flashy, fast, a solid puncher that liked to box but was more than willing to stand and punch. Although we were a bit different in style, we shared the same spirit, and we were both used to winning.
I remember that my dad and Frankie's father became friends as they sat together watching us fight. And they sat together, Frankie's family and mine, when the two of us finally fought. We would fight four times, and I truly believed that every fight was very close. I would lose two of those fights. We were friends outside the ring, but in the ring we were all business. We took nothing personal, but in the ring we were out to KO one another. But that never happened, we both stayed on our feet, and we both went toe-to-toe.
We both traveled to Las Vegas for the1970 Golden Gloves Nationals. Frankie's dad snapped a photo of the two of us in the dressing room prior to our fighting opponents from the Nevada team. I fought somebody from Arizona, and I forget who Frankie whipped that night. About two months later, we'd both turn pro a few weeks before graduating from high school.
We'd both fight at the Olympic Auditorium, and make our pro debuts on TV facing the same opponent, Antonio Villanueva, just a couple weeks apart.
After a few years, Frankie left boxing suddenly. I never saw him again. He and I had both worked as a sparring partner for the great bantamweight champ, Ruben Olivares. And we'd both boxed with world champs Bobby Chacon, Danny Lopez and others. I fought a bit longer before quitting for good when I was 24. I often wondered about Frankie Santillan. We shared a unique history, we walked the same path, and we both came out about the same career wise.
One day I get a Facebook friend request - from Frank Santillan!
In the late 90's, I began writing about boxing and I became involved with a few veteran boxer organizations and the World Boxing Hall of Fame. During the past dozen years I was able to reconnect with many of the great boxers I knew way back when. Frank told me he just walked away from boxing, but now he is back. In a few weeks, Frank Santillan, a good fighter and a good friend will return to a place where his star shined for awhile. And best of all, he'll be with all of us who knew him well, long time friends. We are no longer teenage prizefighters, we are a couple of old men. But on December 10th, we'll join some other old men we once knew and we are going to take a nice little step back in time.
Frankie and I never won a professional championship, but I can honestly say that we have traded punches with some of the greatest boxers of all-time. And it all started in a back yard in Burbank.
-Rick Farris
I was twelve when my family moved back to Burbank in 1964. This is where I would begin junior high school. I came from Orange County, where I grew up having more than my share of school yard fights. I expected being the new kid in class, somebody was going to try me, and I was ready, but it never happened. The kids in Burbank were a lot more mellow than I was used to, so I rarely had a fight.
I was one of the smaller guys in my class, but I was pretty much an athlete, and I'd meet another kid who was the same. He was my size and a great athlete, good runner. His name was Frankie Santillan, and he and I kind of hit it off.
At the time, I was totally into boxing. I dreamed of being a boxer and was looking for a place to make my dream come true. I would find out that Frankie also liked boxing, and that his dad Max was also a boxing guy. After school, I'd bring my boxing gloves over the Frankie's house and we'd box in the backyard. Frank's younger brother Maxie would referee. Afterwards Frankie would grab a couple of his dad's boxing magazines and we'd talk about some of the fighters of the era. I remember us discussing Joey Giambra one day. About twenty-five years later I'd meet Giambra, and as we discussed his career, I thought about the day Frankie mentioned it to me. We also talked about Davey Moore, the featherweight champ who had died in the ring a couple years earlier, in the only boxing event to ever be held at Dodger Stadium.
A couple years later, my parents bought a home on the other side of town and we moved. After that I didn't see Frankie, we would attend different high schools. Shortly after moving I began my boxing career, training under Johnny Flores who managed heavyweight contender Jerry Quarry. I fought in the Junior Golden Gloves for nearly three years before I would see my old pal Frankie Santillan again. As we began the 1968 Jr. Golden Gloves tournament, I was fighting in the 96-105 pound weight class, in the Open division. As I looked over a program for the upcoming round of eliminations, I see a name that caught me totally by surprise, Frankie Santillan. Frank was fighting out of Canto Robledo's "Crown City Boxing Club" in Pasadena. He was fighting in my same weight class, but in the Novice division. Like me, Frankie Santillan was on a path that would one day lead both of us to make our professional boxing debuts while still attending high school.
I won the Open division championship that year. And Frankie Santillan won in the Novice division. Frankie was flashy, fast, a solid puncher that liked to box but was more than willing to stand and punch. Although we were a bit different in style, we shared the same spirit, and we were both used to winning.
I remember that my dad and Frankie's father became friends as they sat together watching us fight. And they sat together, Frankie's family and mine, when the two of us finally fought. We would fight four times, and I truly believed that every fight was very close. I would lose two of those fights. We were friends outside the ring, but in the ring we were all business. We took nothing personal, but in the ring we were out to KO one another. But that never happened, we both stayed on our feet, and we both went toe-to-toe.
We both traveled to Las Vegas for the1970 Golden Gloves Nationals. Frankie's dad snapped a photo of the two of us in the dressing room prior to our fighting opponents from the Nevada team. I fought somebody from Arizona, and I forget who Frankie whipped that night. About two months later, we'd both turn pro a few weeks before graduating from high school.
We'd both fight at the Olympic Auditorium, and make our pro debuts on TV facing the same opponent, Antonio Villanueva, just a couple weeks apart.
After a few years, Frankie left boxing suddenly. I never saw him again. He and I had both worked as a sparring partner for the great bantamweight champ, Ruben Olivares. And we'd both boxed with world champs Bobby Chacon, Danny Lopez and others. I fought a bit longer before quitting for good when I was 24. I often wondered about Frankie Santillan. We shared a unique history, we walked the same path, and we both came out about the same career wise.
One day I get a Facebook friend request - from Frank Santillan!
In the late 90's, I began writing about boxing and I became involved with a few veteran boxer organizations and the World Boxing Hall of Fame. During the past dozen years I was able to reconnect with many of the great boxers I knew way back when. Frank told me he just walked away from boxing, but now he is back. In a few weeks, Frank Santillan, a good fighter and a good friend will return to a place where his star shined for awhile. And best of all, he'll be with all of us who knew him well, long time friends. We are no longer teenage prizefighters, we are a couple of old men. But on December 10th, we'll join some other old men we once knew and we are going to take a nice little step back in time.
Frankie and I never won a professional championship, but I can honestly say that we have traded punches with some of the greatest boxers of all-time. And it all started in a back yard in Burbank.
-Rick Farris
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
The Olympic Today . . . By Rick Farris
The (former) Olympic Auditorium
By Rick Farris
Our friend, Remy Damlien, is in town for this week's CBHOF lunch, and I want to show him around town a bit before he returns home next week.
We started the day at 6:30am, where we met at his hotel which is right next door to the Wild Card Gym in Hollywood. While here, Remy has hooked up with a trainer at Wild Card, and joined me for some early morning road work & pad work in the Hollywood Hills.
We had our workout, and then we drove a few blocks to eat breakfast at Art's Deli in Studio City.
I ordered an omlette, while Remy ordered a pastrami sandwich. "We don't get much pastrami in Norway, and the sandwiches only have a few slices of meat. Monica made sure that Remy's sandwich would not leave him hungry, and after we finished, it was off to show him what used to be The Olympic Auditorium.
We drove downtown and pulled into the Olympic's parking lot, and we would both see the Olympic, now as a Korean Church, for the first time. We snapped a few exterior photos and then just let ourselves in the building to walk around. A few walls have been added, and a lot of seats removed, a redesign of the floor area, but it was still the same old gal, just wearing a different wardrobe.
For a moment I saw the building as an old lady, one who was smiling when she saw me enter today, as if to say, "Now don't laugh!" I didn't laugh, and I didn't cry, I was just happy to see her still standing. I felt as if I knew the old broad's secrets. At least a few, anyway.
I tried to take a photo, but the building was pitch black. As our eyes adjusted we could see her, all dressed up for the first time in her life. I tried to show Remy where things were, and we talked about the long gone mural of Dempsey that once decorated the north & east walls.
I pointed out where the dressing rooms were, and the aisle that took us to the ring on Thursdays nights.
I refused to get sentimental, just wanted to say hello. This was the house where Aragon was booed, and where Mando Ramos was cheered.
Remy took in the history, and we left. Maybe one day . . .
-Rick Farris
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Julio Cesar Chavez: "The Lion in Winter" By Rick Farris
This was my last look at the great Julio Cesar Chavez . . .
Phoenix - July, 2000
"The Lion in Winter"
by Rick Farris
Boxing and controversy were holding hands long before the Marquis of Queensbury laid down the ground rules. Generally, controversy surfaces sometime after the opening bell. However, from the moment it was announced that WBC Jr. Welterweight Champ Kostya Tszyu would defend his title against 38-year-old Julio Cesar Chavez, controversy flourished. Even today, three days after the fight the controversy continues.
The Tszyu-Chavez title fight would be my first live coverage assignment and I had a special interest in it. I had been in the house the night Chavez made his Los Angeles debut at the Olympic Auditorium more than seventeen years ago, and again the following year, when he won his first world title. Now I would be present for what I expected to be the once great champion's final fight.
I had hoped to catch Chavez working out at the Madison Gym in Phoenix where today I train boxers. However, my schedule interfered with the chance of seeing Chavez during the week he conducted his final workouts in Phoenix. I didn't see the former champ until the friday afternoon weigh-in at the Airport Hilton Hotel in Phoenix.
When I arrived at the Hotel I saw a lot of old friends and familiar faces from my era in Los Angeles boxing. Marty Denkin, who was scheduled to judge the bout was sitting in the lobby with another L.A. based official, Chuck Hassett. A group of amateur boxers representing several Phoenix area gyms were standing by hoping to get a glimpse of Chavez when he entered the building. Arizona boxing commissioner John Montano was having a discussion in the corner with one of the promoters and Jimmy Lennon Jr. crossed the room on his way to the restaurant. Kostya Tszyu had quietly slipped into the media room where the weigh-in would be held and quickly checked his weight on the scale. After stepping off the scale he disappeared. About ten minutes later a commotion could be heard coming from the lobby and it marked the entrance of one of the greatest Mexican boxers ever, Julio Cesar Chavez. Chavez was quickly surrounded by the media. Anxious reporters and camera crews positioned themselves close to the former champion and began asking questions. Chavez sat down in the lobby and talked with the media but not with the strength that he once projected.
As I watched Chavez talk to the media I could see that this was not the same man I had watched win the W.B.C. Jr. Lightweight title sixteen years earlier. The Chavez I saw knockout Mario Martinez was 21 years old and had that hungry look in his eyes. The Chavez I saw in the lobby of the Hotel looked uncomfortable, almost irritated. The only confidence projected that afternoon came from a loyal group of young followers that somehow believed that there hero could pull off a miracle. "Vamos Rumbo A La Victoria" were the words emblazoned on the back of their T-Shirts. They had come to win.
Chavez's behavior in the days leading up to the fight indicated to me that he was in trouble. Last week he became upset when learning that Willy Wise, the welterweight who had defeated him last September, would be appearing on the undercard. Chavez demanded that the promoter drop Wise from the card or he would not fight. The request was honored. This is something that Chavez would have never done a few years ago. However, as I said, this was not the same Chavez.
A few minutes later Chavez stood and headed for the media room where the weigh-in was scheduled to take place in less than twenty minutes. Chavez and his handlers headed directly toward the scale to check his weight. Chavez stripped to his briefs and stepped onto the scale. After finding his weight to be exactly 140 lbs. Chavez nodded seriously and slipped into a robe provided by one of his team members. Every move the great Mexican made after entering the room was followed by loud cheering from the spectators. It was obvious they had come to see Chavez.
In a matter of seconds the room was packed wall-to-wall. Former World Champ Danny Romero shook hands and posed for pictures with many of the young fans who had come to watch the festivities. Hector Camacho Jr. smiled and flexed his muscles as photographers snapped pictures. It wasn't long before the official weigh-in would take place and after weighing the other boxers on the card Commissioner John Montano called Chavez to the scale. "Julio Cesar Chavez . . .140 pounds", Montano announced. The spectators cheered. A minute later Montano called for the champion to be weighed. "Kostya Tszyu, 139 1/2 pounds". The crowd booed but Tszyu just smiled and confidently flexed his muscles for the media before stepping down. The champion was about as popular with the predominantly Mexican crowd as Lee Harvey Oswald was with the American public on November 22, 1963.
Chavez never smiled, aside from a weak effort after his weight was announced. He was obviously upset over the events leading up to the fight. In addition to the Wise incident, Chavez was angry that Senator John McCain had attempted to stop the fight from taking place. Fearing that Chavez could be seriously hurt by Tszyu, McCain had petitioned Arizona Governor Jane Hull to step in. However, the fight would go on and Chavez considered the Senator's efforts an insult. Adding to the insult was the fact that Las Vegas was refusing to take action on the bout, citing that Chavez was anywhere from a 40 to 100-to-1 underdog. Chavez trained hard and vowed to prove them wrong. After the weigh-in, Tszyu told the press he would stop Chavez in two rounds while Chavez said he would knockout Tszyu within eight. I looked closely into the dark gamecock eyes of Chavez as he made the prediction and nothing gave me the impression that he believed what he was saying.
Early the next evening I arrived at Phoenix's Veteran's Memorial Coliseum a couple of hours before the title fight was to start. It had been 112 degrees
that day and those who had bought tickets parked their cars and hurried across the parking lot to escape the heat. "Thank God for air conditioning" was all I could think about upon entering the cool Coliseum. I had arrived about halfway thru a prelim featuring former World Champ Robert Garcia. As Garcia pounded his opponent I wanted to get with the boxing people. Thanks to my press credentials and familiar face among the boxing crowd I was able to go just about anywhere I wanted.
After locating my seat I went directly to the dressing room area located behind giant curtains shielding that part of the arena from the crowd. I passed by the Showtime crew who were running a sound check on Bobby Czyz as he and Steve Albert prepared themselves for their ringside commentator roles later on. As I passed by the security reps guarding the dressing room area, I saw my friend Richard Rodriguez, owner of the Madison Gym where Chavez had finished his training for this fight. I asked Rodriguez how Chavez had looked in the gym during the previous week and he answered, "He looked good. He's in good shape". That's all Rodriguez could offer. I then spot America Presents promoter Dan Goossen who was standing in the back outside the dressing room area with Jimmy Lennon Jr. I knew that Goossen would be too busy to talk about the fight so I just said hello and asked him if his brother Joe was around. "Joe couldn't make it", Dan said, "He usually does all the work but I guess it will be just me tonight" he said smiling. Goossen had good reason to be happy, the event was a near sellout.
As I made my way toward the dressing rooms I saw Sugar Ray Leonard enter surrounded by several security guards who would usher him to his ringside seat. A few minutes later Johnny Tapia walked in holding hands with his wife. Tapia had a mischievous smile on his face and clowned with a few friends he'd met. I have to give Johnny credit, he sure knows how to work a crowd. Throughout the evening I saw Tapia shaking hands and posing for pictures with fans. I doubt he ever sat down. And as usual there were many other boxing celebs on hand such as Fernando Vargas, Danny Romero and Zab Judah, who had come to check out Kostya Tszyu, a man whom he will face in the ring one day. When Don King emerged from the dressing room area with four giant body guards the crowd greeted him with boos.
After Garcia had won a ten round decision, Vassily Jirov the IBF Cruiserweight Champ took on a cagey Phoenix veteran named Earl Butler. Butler was not expected to last long but it was Jirov who was lucky to finish the first round on his feet. About halfway thru the opening round Butler discovered that Jirov could be hit with right cross and caught the champ flush on the chin with one. Jirov staggered and struggled to remain on his feet. Before the round ended he'd caught several more and wobbled to his corner after the bell. However, in the second round Jirov went to work and and knocked out Butler.
After the Jirov fight I wondered back to the dressing room area where Hector Camacho Jr. was being boosted up onto a large wooden horse on wheels. Camacho had intended to make his ring entrance riding a real horse down the aisle but the Phoenix Fire Dept. said "No way". Instead, Camacho would make his entrance on the back of the wooden horse pulled down the aisle by anassistant. As Camacho awaited the cue for his entrance, he sat patiently on the wooden horse with his pretty young wife standing just below him carrying their baby in her arms. I spoke briefly with Ted Morton, Camacho's American representative whom I had met several years back. Needless to say, Morton was very excited about his unbeaten young fighter. After watching Camacho stop Phillip Holiday in a less than exciting bout I returned to the dressing area where I was able to casually slip inside the dressing room of Chavez. I just acted like I belonged there and quietly stood to the side watching the Mexican legend as he warmed up shadow boxing. He broke a sweat but didn't appear ready to me for action to me. An official prompted Team Chavez that it was about time for the once brilliant champion to head down to the ring. A second tied Chavez robe while another rubbed his shoulders. About this time a group of about a dozen young members of Team Chavez along with his handlers surrounded Julio and began to chant a pre-fight cheer, something to raise the fighters spirit before the match. When they finished, Cristobal Rosas, the great Mexican trainer who had once worked with the late Salvador Sanchez, gave Chavez a hug and kissed him on the forehead. Rosas had once trained Chavez and was Julio's special guest for the fight. They exchanged a few words in Spanish and then Julio headed out. Before reaching the curtain leading to the arena Chavez, surrounded by the most loyal entourage I have ever seen, stood waiting for the final cue to walk down the aisle. Gathered before Chavez was a large Mariachi band that would play as he entered the ring. A moment later Don King and his escorts appeared and King hugged Chavez. King, never one to miss an opportunity to be seen, stood behind Chavez with his hands on the former champion's shoulders. King would accompany Chavez for his last walk down the aisle. I looked closely into the face of Chavez and didn't see the look of a man who had held world titles for more than twelve years during his brilliant career. I saw a man who knew his great pride was about to suffer.
A Showtime official gave the Chavez delegation the signal, in Spanish, that it was time. "Tiempo" he shouted. Long before Chavez walked thru the curtain and began his walk down the aisle the crowd exploded. "CHAVEZ, CHAVEZ, CHAVEZ!", they chanted. As Chavez slowly made his way to the ring the flashes from cameras created a strobe light effect around the Coliseum and the sound of Mariachi music was drowned out by the thunderous ovation from the audience. I have seen a lot of title fights and dozens of great champions over the years but nothing compared to the excitement that took place when Chavez entered the ring Saturday night. You would think that Chavez was the champion and Tszyu was an unpopular challenger. When Tszyu entered the ring a few minutes later he was greeted with boos.
Chavez did his best but had little to offer. On a couple of occasions he was able to land solid blows but they had no effect on the talented Russian. In the sixth round the great Julio Cesar Chavez hit the canvas for only the second time in his career. He made it to his feet and desperately tried to fight back but within seconds referee Bobby Ferrara had no choice but to stop the fight.
Too many years have separated Chavez from the skills that made him great, however, the legend will never die. When the disappointment of Chavez's fans turned to anger, the beer started to fly. Growing up in Los Angeles I know how Mexican fans react when their favorite loses. Long before Jimmy Lennon announced the winner of the fight I was safely tucked away in the press room waiting for the post fight press conference.
Chavez announced his retirement after the fight and I hope he was serious. Even so, the controversy continued when he refused to take the drug test following the fight. Many would assume that this suggests Chavez had taken an illegal substance prior to the match. However, nothing I saw in the eyes or behavior of the great Chavez indicated he had. I think one of the greatest Mexican boxers in history had been insulted enough and just wanted to get out of the place. Chavez has earned his place in boxing history, what could a bit more controversy hurt.
Phoenix - July, 2000
by Rick Farris
Boxing and controversy were holding hands long before the Marquis of Queensbury laid down the ground rules. Generally, controversy surfaces sometime after the opening bell. However, from the moment it was announced that WBC Jr. Welterweight Champ Kostya Tszyu would defend his title against 38-year-old Julio Cesar Chavez, controversy flourished. Even today, three days after the fight the controversy continues.
The Tszyu-Chavez title fight would be my first live coverage assignment and I had a special interest in it. I had been in the house the night Chavez made his Los Angeles debut at the Olympic Auditorium more than seventeen years ago, and again the following year, when he won his first world title. Now I would be present for what I expected to be the once great champion's final fight.
I had hoped to catch Chavez working out at the Madison Gym in Phoenix where today I train boxers. However, my schedule interfered with the chance of seeing Chavez during the week he conducted his final workouts in Phoenix. I didn't see the former champ until the friday afternoon weigh-in at the Airport Hilton Hotel in Phoenix.
When I arrived at the Hotel I saw a lot of old friends and familiar faces from my era in Los Angeles boxing. Marty Denkin, who was scheduled to judge the bout was sitting in the lobby with another L.A. based official, Chuck Hassett. A group of amateur boxers representing several Phoenix area gyms were standing by hoping to get a glimpse of Chavez when he entered the building. Arizona boxing commissioner John Montano was having a discussion in the corner with one of the promoters and Jimmy Lennon Jr. crossed the room on his way to the restaurant. Kostya Tszyu had quietly slipped into the media room where the weigh-in would be held and quickly checked his weight on the scale. After stepping off the scale he disappeared. About ten minutes later a commotion could be heard coming from the lobby and it marked the entrance of one of the greatest Mexican boxers ever, Julio Cesar Chavez. Chavez was quickly surrounded by the media. Anxious reporters and camera crews positioned themselves close to the former champion and began asking questions. Chavez sat down in the lobby and talked with the media but not with the strength that he once projected.
As I watched Chavez talk to the media I could see that this was not the same man I had watched win the W.B.C. Jr. Lightweight title sixteen years earlier. The Chavez I saw knockout Mario Martinez was 21 years old and had that hungry look in his eyes. The Chavez I saw in the lobby of the Hotel looked uncomfortable, almost irritated. The only confidence projected that afternoon came from a loyal group of young followers that somehow believed that there hero could pull off a miracle. "Vamos Rumbo A La Victoria" were the words emblazoned on the back of their T-Shirts. They had come to win.
Chavez's behavior in the days leading up to the fight indicated to me that he was in trouble. Last week he became upset when learning that Willy Wise, the welterweight who had defeated him last September, would be appearing on the undercard. Chavez demanded that the promoter drop Wise from the card or he would not fight. The request was honored. This is something that Chavez would have never done a few years ago. However, as I said, this was not the same Chavez.
A few minutes later Chavez stood and headed for the media room where the weigh-in was scheduled to take place in less than twenty minutes. Chavez and his handlers headed directly toward the scale to check his weight. Chavez stripped to his briefs and stepped onto the scale. After finding his weight to be exactly 140 lbs. Chavez nodded seriously and slipped into a robe provided by one of his team members. Every move the great Mexican made after entering the room was followed by loud cheering from the spectators. It was obvious they had come to see Chavez.
In a matter of seconds the room was packed wall-to-wall. Former World Champ Danny Romero shook hands and posed for pictures with many of the young fans who had come to watch the festivities. Hector Camacho Jr. smiled and flexed his muscles as photographers snapped pictures. It wasn't long before the official weigh-in would take place and after weighing the other boxers on the card Commissioner John Montano called Chavez to the scale. "Julio Cesar Chavez . . .140 pounds", Montano announced. The spectators cheered. A minute later Montano called for the champion to be weighed. "Kostya Tszyu, 139 1/2 pounds". The crowd booed but Tszyu just smiled and confidently flexed his muscles for the media before stepping down. The champion was about as popular with the predominantly Mexican crowd as Lee Harvey Oswald was with the American public on November 22, 1963.
Chavez never smiled, aside from a weak effort after his weight was announced. He was obviously upset over the events leading up to the fight. In addition to the Wise incident, Chavez was angry that Senator John McCain had attempted to stop the fight from taking place. Fearing that Chavez could be seriously hurt by Tszyu, McCain had petitioned Arizona Governor Jane Hull to step in. However, the fight would go on and Chavez considered the Senator's efforts an insult. Adding to the insult was the fact that Las Vegas was refusing to take action on the bout, citing that Chavez was anywhere from a 40 to 100-to-1 underdog. Chavez trained hard and vowed to prove them wrong. After the weigh-in, Tszyu told the press he would stop Chavez in two rounds while Chavez said he would knockout Tszyu within eight. I looked closely into the dark gamecock eyes of Chavez as he made the prediction and nothing gave me the impression that he believed what he was saying.
Early the next evening I arrived at Phoenix's Veteran's Memorial Coliseum a couple of hours before the title fight was to start. It had been 112 degrees
that day and those who had bought tickets parked their cars and hurried across the parking lot to escape the heat. "Thank God for air conditioning" was all I could think about upon entering the cool Coliseum. I had arrived about halfway thru a prelim featuring former World Champ Robert Garcia. As Garcia pounded his opponent I wanted to get with the boxing people. Thanks to my press credentials and familiar face among the boxing crowd I was able to go just about anywhere I wanted.
After locating my seat I went directly to the dressing room area located behind giant curtains shielding that part of the arena from the crowd. I passed by the Showtime crew who were running a sound check on Bobby Czyz as he and Steve Albert prepared themselves for their ringside commentator roles later on. As I passed by the security reps guarding the dressing room area, I saw my friend Richard Rodriguez, owner of the Madison Gym where Chavez had finished his training for this fight. I asked Rodriguez how Chavez had looked in the gym during the previous week and he answered, "He looked good. He's in good shape". That's all Rodriguez could offer. I then spot America Presents promoter Dan Goossen who was standing in the back outside the dressing room area with Jimmy Lennon Jr. I knew that Goossen would be too busy to talk about the fight so I just said hello and asked him if his brother Joe was around. "Joe couldn't make it", Dan said, "He usually does all the work but I guess it will be just me tonight" he said smiling. Goossen had good reason to be happy, the event was a near sellout.
As I made my way toward the dressing rooms I saw Sugar Ray Leonard enter surrounded by several security guards who would usher him to his ringside seat. A few minutes later Johnny Tapia walked in holding hands with his wife. Tapia had a mischievous smile on his face and clowned with a few friends he'd met. I have to give Johnny credit, he sure knows how to work a crowd. Throughout the evening I saw Tapia shaking hands and posing for pictures with fans. I doubt he ever sat down. And as usual there were many other boxing celebs on hand such as Fernando Vargas, Danny Romero and Zab Judah, who had come to check out Kostya Tszyu, a man whom he will face in the ring one day. When Don King emerged from the dressing room area with four giant body guards the crowd greeted him with boos.
After Garcia had won a ten round decision, Vassily Jirov the IBF Cruiserweight Champ took on a cagey Phoenix veteran named Earl Butler. Butler was not expected to last long but it was Jirov who was lucky to finish the first round on his feet. About halfway thru the opening round Butler discovered that Jirov could be hit with right cross and caught the champ flush on the chin with one. Jirov staggered and struggled to remain on his feet. Before the round ended he'd caught several more and wobbled to his corner after the bell. However, in the second round Jirov went to work and and knocked out Butler.
After the Jirov fight I wondered back to the dressing room area where Hector Camacho Jr. was being boosted up onto a large wooden horse on wheels. Camacho had intended to make his ring entrance riding a real horse down the aisle but the Phoenix Fire Dept. said "No way". Instead, Camacho would make his entrance on the back of the wooden horse pulled down the aisle by anassistant. As Camacho awaited the cue for his entrance, he sat patiently on the wooden horse with his pretty young wife standing just below him carrying their baby in her arms. I spoke briefly with Ted Morton, Camacho's American representative whom I had met several years back. Needless to say, Morton was very excited about his unbeaten young fighter. After watching Camacho stop Phillip Holiday in a less than exciting bout I returned to the dressing area where I was able to casually slip inside the dressing room of Chavez. I just acted like I belonged there and quietly stood to the side watching the Mexican legend as he warmed up shadow boxing. He broke a sweat but didn't appear ready to me for action to me. An official prompted Team Chavez that it was about time for the once brilliant champion to head down to the ring. A second tied Chavez robe while another rubbed his shoulders. About this time a group of about a dozen young members of Team Chavez along with his handlers surrounded Julio and began to chant a pre-fight cheer, something to raise the fighters spirit before the match. When they finished, Cristobal Rosas, the great Mexican trainer who had once worked with the late Salvador Sanchez, gave Chavez a hug and kissed him on the forehead. Rosas had once trained Chavez and was Julio's special guest for the fight. They exchanged a few words in Spanish and then Julio headed out. Before reaching the curtain leading to the arena Chavez, surrounded by the most loyal entourage I have ever seen, stood waiting for the final cue to walk down the aisle. Gathered before Chavez was a large Mariachi band that would play as he entered the ring. A moment later Don King and his escorts appeared and King hugged Chavez. King, never one to miss an opportunity to be seen, stood behind Chavez with his hands on the former champion's shoulders. King would accompany Chavez for his last walk down the aisle. I looked closely into the face of Chavez and didn't see the look of a man who had held world titles for more than twelve years during his brilliant career. I saw a man who knew his great pride was about to suffer.
A Showtime official gave the Chavez delegation the signal, in Spanish, that it was time. "Tiempo" he shouted. Long before Chavez walked thru the curtain and began his walk down the aisle the crowd exploded. "CHAVEZ, CHAVEZ, CHAVEZ!", they chanted. As Chavez slowly made his way to the ring the flashes from cameras created a strobe light effect around the Coliseum and the sound of Mariachi music was drowned out by the thunderous ovation from the audience. I have seen a lot of title fights and dozens of great champions over the years but nothing compared to the excitement that took place when Chavez entered the ring Saturday night. You would think that Chavez was the champion and Tszyu was an unpopular challenger. When Tszyu entered the ring a few minutes later he was greeted with boos.
Too many years have separated Chavez from the skills that made him great, however, the legend will never die. When the disappointment of Chavez's fans turned to anger, the beer started to fly. Growing up in Los Angeles I know how Mexican fans react when their favorite loses. Long before Jimmy Lennon announced the winner of the fight I was safely tucked away in the press room waiting for the post fight press conference.
Chavez announced his retirement after the fight and I hope he was serious. Even so, the controversy continued when he refused to take the drug test following the fight. Many would assume that this suggests Chavez had taken an illegal substance prior to the match. However, nothing I saw in the eyes or behavior of the great Chavez indicated he had. I think one of the greatest Mexican boxers in history had been insulted enough and just wanted to get out of the place. Chavez has earned his place in boxing history, what could a bit more controversy hurt.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Mel Epstein, a great mind of "Old School"
Mel Epstein & Systolic breathing . . . By Rick Farris
Like the "old school trainer" fraternity in which he was vested member, Mel Epstein, knew the tricks of the boxing trade. How to get an edge.
Having an edge can make a big difference, and Mel was concerned about my deep breathing, my oxygen consumption during a bout.
Mel was not a "certified" anything, like the so-called educated gurus who charge champs six figures today.
Actual experience was Mel's guide, advice from the likes of Dempsey's trainer, Teddy Hayes, and Ray Arcel back in the Benny Leonard days.
He also got some advice from another valued source, his mother.
"Mrs. Epstein, of the Boston Epsteins," Mel would kid, was an opera singer when Mel was a young lad.
She learned to breathe as a singer breathes, pulling oxygen deep into the body, beneath the lungs into the upper stomach.
"It's called systolic breathing, and that is what I'm going to teach you," Mel promised.
He continued, "My mother taught me, and I saw Dempsey practicing it but they didn't call it systolic breathing. That was my mother's term, and my mother was educated, you know, she came from a good family."
Mel was right, I began to breathe different and it also aided my runs with Bob Seagren.
Mel did some boxing, and has the nose to prove he was probably best suited in management, training and promotion - and he did it all!
Today a college degree and good line of bullshit will land documented smoke blower a spot on some champ's ship of fools. A "Physical trainer."
Mel is rolling in his grave, and he's laughing.
Just last week I saw a "physical advisor" on TV who is going to mentor a world champ on the "bodies rhythm".
He will try to show the athlete how to take deep breath, using a computor screen, high tech graffics and statistics.
The physical advisor will need the finest in high tech equipment attempting to demostrate his theory.
All Mel needed was a good story about his mother and a quick demonstration. Everyday he'd remind me as I walked along side him.
We'd be walking down Wilshire Blvd., near Vermont, Mel would bark . . . "Breathe deep, into your stomach. Systolic breathing."
I'd begin to breath to his staisfaction and then he would bark, "Toes in! Walk with your toes pointed inward, punchers are pigeon-toed!"
That's what he'd tell me as we walked . . . "Breathe, toes in!"
Mel Epstein, he was really something. Bless his soul.
-Rick Farris
Like the "old school trainer" fraternity in which he was vested member, Mel Epstein, knew the tricks of the boxing trade. How to get an edge.
Having an edge can make a big difference, and Mel was concerned about my deep breathing, my oxygen consumption during a bout.
Mel was not a "certified" anything, like the so-called educated gurus who charge champs six figures today.
Actual experience was Mel's guide, advice from the likes of Dempsey's trainer, Teddy Hayes, and Ray Arcel back in the Benny Leonard days.
He also got some advice from another valued source, his mother.
"Mrs. Epstein, of the Boston Epsteins," Mel would kid, was an opera singer when Mel was a young lad.
She learned to breathe as a singer breathes, pulling oxygen deep into the body, beneath the lungs into the upper stomach.
"It's called systolic breathing, and that is what I'm going to teach you," Mel promised.
He continued, "My mother taught me, and I saw Dempsey practicing it but they didn't call it systolic breathing. That was my mother's term, and my mother was educated, you know, she came from a good family."
Mel was right, I began to breathe different and it also aided my runs with Bob Seagren.
Mel did some boxing, and has the nose to prove he was probably best suited in management, training and promotion - and he did it all!
Today a college degree and good line of bullshit will land documented smoke blower a spot on some champ's ship of fools. A "Physical trainer."
Mel is rolling in his grave, and he's laughing.
Just last week I saw a "physical advisor" on TV who is going to mentor a world champ on the "bodies rhythm".
He will try to show the athlete how to take deep breath, using a computor screen, high tech graffics and statistics.
The physical advisor will need the finest in high tech equipment attempting to demostrate his theory.
All Mel needed was a good story about his mother and a quick demonstration. Everyday he'd remind me as I walked along side him.
We'd be walking down Wilshire Blvd., near Vermont, Mel would bark . . . "Breathe deep, into your stomach. Systolic breathing."
I'd begin to breath to his staisfaction and then he would bark, "Toes in! Walk with your toes pointed inward, punchers are pigeon-toed!"
That's what he'd tell me as we walked . . . "Breathe, toes in!"
Mel Epstein, he was really something. Bless his soul.
-Rick Farris
Friday, April 29, 2011
Classic Photo: Rick Farris vs Jose Mendoza
Jose Mendoza (left) vs. Rick Farris
The Forum - 1972
"Mel Epstein & Johnny Villaflor were in my corner. I was 20. Referee was Dick Young. The fight was televised in L.A. on KTLA Ch-5. We had a war. I got the decision. Two nights earlier, my pal actor Reb Brown, carried me out of a bar (I was too young to drink but they served me anyway) and tossed me into the back of his van.
In those days Reb Brown was known as Bob Brown, a former USC running back and amateur boxer with the Johnny Flores stable.
The next day I was a no-show at the Main Street Gym for a warm-up/loosen up session the day before the fight. I was paralyzed with the worst hangover I would ever experience. I would hear the phone ring and know it was either Mel Epstein or my girlfriend calling, no way was I going to answer. The next night I paid the price. What should have been an easy win, was a tough fight."
- Rick Farris
Friday, November 12, 2010
Rick Farris: Random Thoughts on Pacquiao, Margarito and Character
By Rick Farris
Pac & Margo . . .
Looking to the positive, I expect these two to match up better than Pac & Floyd.
Regardless of who Floyd Jr. fights, he's going to make it a boring match.
Margarito comes to fight. So does Pac. To me that's the recipe for a good match, regardless of outcome.
I like Pac much the same as I did Duran during the 70's & 80's. Duran is one of my all-time favorites.
Regardless of who wins Saturday, I wouldn't be unhappy to see Margarito receive a career ending injury.
Character . . .
This is one thing that seems overlooked by most when it comes to what a boxer must have to achieve greatness.
Since Muhammad Ali was never known as a big KO puncher, everybody points to his hand speed, strong chin and skill, as what made him great.
What made Ali great was his charactor. Lack of charactor is what seperated Mike Tyson from true greatness.
It was charactor that kept Ali fighting when he was hurt, not his strong chin.
It takes character to truly overcome great odds to succeed.
Antonio Margarito has proven that he has no character, and certainly no class.
Margarito can whip a lot of welters, but has no chance with a great boxer with character, regardless of size advantage, or distractions, etc.
I resigned from my position as head of the selection commitee for the WBHOF. That's good for guys like Margarito.
There are boxers who have been inducted into the WBHOF who aren't as good as Margarito, but I assure you that Margarito's name would never be found on a WBHOF ballot had I remained in charge.
It's not about cheating. I've cheated on things, and I might do it again. However, my definition of cheating relates to saving a few bucks on taxs when I know I can, not putting another man's health & welfare in jeopardy, a man who's chances of winning were only considered one-in-five.
I don't think Margarito should be boiled in oil. I just want him out of boxing.
Margarito making fun of Freddie Roach's Parkinson's Disease? As I mentioned before, I hope this guy suffers a career ending injury.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
A Fool's Image of Invincibility . . .
By Rick Farris
I suppose in absence of a strong talent pool, comtemporary boxing promoters have to rely on creating an image of invincibility to assist marketing today's moderate quality prizefighters. Don't get me wrong, we do have one throwback type champ which can be credited for reminding boxing fans of what true talent really is, however, Manny Pac is a lone wolf, unique in an era that pales in comaparison to days gone by. But the Filippino super champ is pretty close to the end of the line. Nothing more to prove aside from a questionable title match with a reluctant Floyd Mayweather Jr. I'd love to see if the charismatic Pac Man can put together one last super fight against Mayweather, which would likely lead to two more because nobody will lose this one big, or even get hurt. They could cruise thru three great fights and make nine figures each.
Today we need to pull out all the tricks to hype a promotion, even if it means dropping to cheap wrestling type tactics.
The sneering and scowling I see on some boxer's faces today at press conferences, etc. really makes watching the fight difficult for me.
They are already pumping the drama outside the ring, which tends to eliminate the drama that is supposed to take place later, inside the ring.
Danny Lopez and Bobby Chacon didn't have act like they hated each other, the fact is, although cross-town rivals, they were friends.
Same was true a more than a quarter-century earlier, when Gil Cadilli and Keeny Teran were matched in six-rounder at the Legion.
Teran and Cadilli were both ELA guys, who grew up together in the Forbes stable. They were neighborhood rivals, friends but foes as pros.
Friendship is respectfully set aside in the ring. Fight a respectful fight and try to knock the guy out.
When friends fight friends, or brothers fight brothers, sometimes the closeness fuels a fire, leading to a deadly match.
Today we gotta watch tip-tap punching, point-oriented escape artisits, and listen to guys like team HBO tell us these guys are great.
An Armenian champ recently told the press he hoped he kills his challenger. Of course, the tough little Mexican he stepped into the ring with didn't understand English or Armenian, only that he would have things easier in life if he could win. So that's what he did, he thrashed the guy who hoped to kill him. I guess that's one thing I love so much about the great Mexican fighters, they don't need rap music, trash talk or forced drug testing to make their point. The Mexicans make their statement in the ring, and they come to take your title.
The key today is not to let your fighter lose. Losing they don't understand today, the kids who run the networks. If they didn't grow up in front of Play Stations and computor screens, they might have lived a little life and realize that somedays people lose. Even the truly best wake up on the wrong side of the bed at times. The champs of my era stayed sharp by staying busy in ten round non-title fights. Sometimes they'd use these as tune-ups, and they lost occasionally. But that didn't challenge their true greatness, it just gave us a clearer view of what happens when boxers are matched competitivly. You see better boxing, and the fighters become better boxers, they continue to grow and mature in the ring. A loss can be good. It will only challenge a guy who's heart may not be in it as once believed. An ass-whipping gets a fighter's attention. A real fighter wants to turn things around.
Parnassus knew this, and of course, so did Aileen Eaton, Don Fraser and Don Chargin.
As time marches on, people are becoming stupider by the day. As Mel Epstein would say, "dumb bastids!"
I suppose in absence of a strong talent pool, comtemporary boxing promoters have to rely on creating an image of invincibility to assist marketing today's moderate quality prizefighters. Don't get me wrong, we do have one throwback type champ which can be credited for reminding boxing fans of what true talent really is, however, Manny Pac is a lone wolf, unique in an era that pales in comaparison to days gone by. But the Filippino super champ is pretty close to the end of the line. Nothing more to prove aside from a questionable title match with a reluctant Floyd Mayweather Jr. I'd love to see if the charismatic Pac Man can put together one last super fight against Mayweather, which would likely lead to two more because nobody will lose this one big, or even get hurt. They could cruise thru three great fights and make nine figures each.
Today we need to pull out all the tricks to hype a promotion, even if it means dropping to cheap wrestling type tactics.
The sneering and scowling I see on some boxer's faces today at press conferences, etc. really makes watching the fight difficult for me.
They are already pumping the drama outside the ring, which tends to eliminate the drama that is supposed to take place later, inside the ring.
Danny Lopez and Bobby Chacon didn't have act like they hated each other, the fact is, although cross-town rivals, they were friends.
Same was true a more than a quarter-century earlier, when Gil Cadilli and Keeny Teran were matched in six-rounder at the Legion.
Teran and Cadilli were both ELA guys, who grew up together in the Forbes stable. They were neighborhood rivals, friends but foes as pros.
Friendship is respectfully set aside in the ring. Fight a respectful fight and try to knock the guy out.
When friends fight friends, or brothers fight brothers, sometimes the closeness fuels a fire, leading to a deadly match.
Today we gotta watch tip-tap punching, point-oriented escape artisits, and listen to guys like team HBO tell us these guys are great.
An Armenian champ recently told the press he hoped he kills his challenger. Of course, the tough little Mexican he stepped into the ring with didn't understand English or Armenian, only that he would have things easier in life if he could win. So that's what he did, he thrashed the guy who hoped to kill him. I guess that's one thing I love so much about the great Mexican fighters, they don't need rap music, trash talk or forced drug testing to make their point. The Mexicans make their statement in the ring, and they come to take your title.
The key today is not to let your fighter lose. Losing they don't understand today, the kids who run the networks. If they didn't grow up in front of Play Stations and computor screens, they might have lived a little life and realize that somedays people lose. Even the truly best wake up on the wrong side of the bed at times. The champs of my era stayed sharp by staying busy in ten round non-title fights. Sometimes they'd use these as tune-ups, and they lost occasionally. But that didn't challenge their true greatness, it just gave us a clearer view of what happens when boxers are matched competitivly. You see better boxing, and the fighters become better boxers, they continue to grow and mature in the ring. A loss can be good. It will only challenge a guy who's heart may not be in it as once believed. An ass-whipping gets a fighter's attention. A real fighter wants to turn things around.
Parnassus knew this, and of course, so did Aileen Eaton, Don Fraser and Don Chargin.
As time marches on, people are becoming stupider by the day. As Mel Epstein would say, "dumb bastids!"
Friday, July 02, 2010
Rick Farris-Hall of Famer
Rodolfo Gonzales, Rick Farris and Mando Muniz
Rodolfo Gonzalez and Rick Farris
Rick Farris: I'm proud to say I knew him when. There is nothing that makes me happier than to see someone get their just rewards for all their hard work. That's what happened this past weekend when my old friend Rick Farris was inducted into the California Boxing Hall of Fame-Class of 2010. As you can see from the photos, Rick is in good company. both Rodolfo Gonzales and Mando Muniz are Hall of Famers. As our old trainer, the late, great Mel Epstein would say "Rick is a deserving guy!" Congratulations Rick!
Monday, June 21, 2010
Back in 1965 . . .
By Rick Farris
Thursday was fight night at L.A.'s Olympic Auditorium back in the mid-60's.
In early 1965, KTLA Ch-5 began to televise weekly boxing from the 18th & Grand arena.
Almost immediatly, "Boxing from the Olympic", became the highest rated sports broadcast in Southern Cal.
My first visit to the Olympic had taken place the previous year, when flyweight champ, Hiroyuki Ebihara defended his title against Mexico's "Alacran" Torres. That one ended in a riot, and it was nearly a year before my dad would take me back to see a fight live. When he did, I would see the Olympic on a thursday night for the first time. This time, two TV cameras were perched on a platform hanging right below the balcony. Above the cameras on the edge of the balcony, were ten 2,000 watt spotlights, providing front fill light for the cameras. The ring was bathed in a blanket of white light beaming down from a cluster incandescent light fixtures directly above the ring.
The aura of the Olympic ring came to life when accented by the TV lights. The powder blue canvas would glow in the light, something very surreal. I was hooked the moment I stepped into the Olympic that night. At ringside, calling the action for the TV audience were matchmaker Mickey Davies and a young sportscaster named Dick Enberg. I felt at home there, I felt I belonged, I felt the presence of the spirits of greatness that had once boxed and wrestled there. I wanted to spend a lot of time there, and I would, as both a fan and a fighter.
My dad took a buddy and I to the fights that night. We had tickets about a dozen rows back from the ring, good seats, great view.
The main event that night was a barn burner. State featherweight champ, Danny Valdez, fought a ten round war with Pete Gonzalez of Portland. Valdez had beaten Gonzalez in a twelve round state title defense the previous year. This time he would lose a ten rounder in a very close fight.
After the fights, my dad took us across the street to what was then a drive-in restaurant, "The Olympic Cafe".
We were seated at a booth, waiting to order when we see the two main event fighters enter the restaurant together. They walk over to the counter and sit down together. I could see that Valdez cheek was swollen, and was holding one of the Reyes boxing gloves he'd worn that night. I watched the waitress take the boxer's orders, and then saw her smile as the fighter's joked with her. When she walked away, the smiles left their faces, you could see they were tired, and rightfully so. As Gonzalez spoke to Valdez, the state champ pressed his soggy boxing glove up to his swollen face, as if it were an ice bag.
I remember I was surprised that the boxers were friendly, I learned that boxers don't need to hate one another in order to take care of business in the ring. They were professionals. Less than an hour earlier, they were trading knockout blows, now they were good buddies talking over hamburgers.
I never forgot what I saw that night, both in the ring and at the restaurant. I learned something.
Last year, Frank Baltazar introduced me to Danny Valdez. I told him what I remembered about that night.
Danny smiled, and we had a nice conversation. He had challeneged Davey Moore for the featherweight title.
After boxing, he worked for our local ABC network as a lighting tech.
Ironically, I followed my boxing days by working as a lighting tech.
This coming saturday I'll have a chance to see Danny Valdez again. Danny is an East L.A. guy, from Maravilla.
He had a great career in the ring, and a great one with ABC. A true Classic American West Coast boxer.
-Rick Farris
Thursday was fight night at L.A.'s Olympic Auditorium back in the mid-60's.
In early 1965, KTLA Ch-5 began to televise weekly boxing from the 18th & Grand arena.
Almost immediatly, "Boxing from the Olympic", became the highest rated sports broadcast in Southern Cal.
My first visit to the Olympic had taken place the previous year, when flyweight champ, Hiroyuki Ebihara defended his title against Mexico's "Alacran" Torres. That one ended in a riot, and it was nearly a year before my dad would take me back to see a fight live. When he did, I would see the Olympic on a thursday night for the first time. This time, two TV cameras were perched on a platform hanging right below the balcony. Above the cameras on the edge of the balcony, were ten 2,000 watt spotlights, providing front fill light for the cameras. The ring was bathed in a blanket of white light beaming down from a cluster incandescent light fixtures directly above the ring.
The aura of the Olympic ring came to life when accented by the TV lights. The powder blue canvas would glow in the light, something very surreal. I was hooked the moment I stepped into the Olympic that night. At ringside, calling the action for the TV audience were matchmaker Mickey Davies and a young sportscaster named Dick Enberg. I felt at home there, I felt I belonged, I felt the presence of the spirits of greatness that had once boxed and wrestled there. I wanted to spend a lot of time there, and I would, as both a fan and a fighter.
My dad took a buddy and I to the fights that night. We had tickets about a dozen rows back from the ring, good seats, great view.
The main event that night was a barn burner. State featherweight champ, Danny Valdez, fought a ten round war with Pete Gonzalez of Portland. Valdez had beaten Gonzalez in a twelve round state title defense the previous year. This time he would lose a ten rounder in a very close fight.
After the fights, my dad took us across the street to what was then a drive-in restaurant, "The Olympic Cafe".
We were seated at a booth, waiting to order when we see the two main event fighters enter the restaurant together. They walk over to the counter and sit down together. I could see that Valdez cheek was swollen, and was holding one of the Reyes boxing gloves he'd worn that night. I watched the waitress take the boxer's orders, and then saw her smile as the fighter's joked with her. When she walked away, the smiles left their faces, you could see they were tired, and rightfully so. As Gonzalez spoke to Valdez, the state champ pressed his soggy boxing glove up to his swollen face, as if it were an ice bag.
I remember I was surprised that the boxers were friendly, I learned that boxers don't need to hate one another in order to take care of business in the ring. They were professionals. Less than an hour earlier, they were trading knockout blows, now they were good buddies talking over hamburgers.
I never forgot what I saw that night, both in the ring and at the restaurant. I learned something.
Last year, Frank Baltazar introduced me to Danny Valdez. I told him what I remembered about that night.
Danny smiled, and we had a nice conversation. He had challeneged Davey Moore for the featherweight title.
After boxing, he worked for our local ABC network as a lighting tech.
Ironically, I followed my boxing days by working as a lighting tech.
This coming saturday I'll have a chance to see Danny Valdez again. Danny is an East L.A. guy, from Maravilla.
He had a great career in the ring, and a great one with ABC. A true Classic American West Coast boxer.
-Rick Farris
Saturday, March 27, 2010
"Where Champions Die Together?" . . .
Last October, I stepped up to the stage with WBHOF President, Armando Muniz.
It was the 30th annual WBHOF Banquet of Champions, and Mando and I were going to honor an L.A. boxing legend, Frank Baltazar.
I'd be up there three times that night, but this was the award I most looked forward to.
As I stepped up to the platform my eyes drifted to the WBHOF banner, which was mounted on the wall behind the podium.
"Where Champions Live For Ever", is the slogan on the WBHOF logo. I smiled inside, "Yes, from now on we'll honor them properly."
That was a goal, and the first thing that needed addressing was the event program, and the ballot.
Both had been published with innacurate spelling and typos in both common words and legendary names.
For years, nobody did a thing about it. I was amazed. Even more amazing was the program, which is archived in both State and Federal museums.
When I joined the group, I told them I had historical knowledge, and the contacts to find out anything I did not know.
In 2007, the year Dan Hanley and I began interviewing legends on camera, I noticed something was off when looking over the honor roll.
Jimmy Lennon Jr.'s name was listed as an inductee in the "Announcers & Broadcasters" catagory. However, there was no Jimmy Lennon Sr.
No cut on Jimmy Jr., but his Dad is a true legend, one of the greatest ring announcers ever. I knew the old man was in, but where was he?
I then noticed Jack Blackburn (Louis' trainer) was in, but as "Mack" Blackburn. Where was Charlie Goldman (The Rock's trainer)? Teddy Hayes (Dempsey's trainer)? And how come Tommy Burns was inducted twice, the 2nd time seven years after the first? I learned that after a legend was inducted, nobody paid close attention to maintaining the "honor roll". Jake Shagrue was another missing trainer, and the list goes on. Almost three dozen WBHOF inductees, from several catagories, were not listed in the program.
I made some noise. Nobody could hear me however, because the Vice President at the time was too busy shouting.
They were trying to figure out why tens of thousands of dollars was missing. It seems the treasurer had gotten confused.
How am I going to fix the problem with all the noise and commotion that took place at the board meetings?
The 2008 program was the same rag as always, and nobody cared. These guys didn't know boxing, they were fans at best.
Well, a few of them were ousted, and I went to work with the help of some "silent" historians.
These men wished to remain anonymous, but one was not only an L.A. boxing legend in his own right, but a former WBHOF director.
He knew the organization better than those running it today.
I dug up names, and they added to those names with documentation, such as ancient programs that had accurate lists.
With the help of Dan Hanley & John Bardelli (who re-edted my editing), we were able to put out the first historically correct WBHOF Program in many years.
The 2009 edition (The 30th year) reflected the grammar and spelling of a former English teacher/Attorney (Bardelli), the cover was graced by a Roger Esty original abstract painting, and although no major names joined the Honor Roll last year in the boxer catagory, in the post humous boxer catagory, the first black world champ in history, George Dixon, was finally honored nearly a century after his death. Ad Wolgast was reunited with Barbados Joe Walcott as they re-joined other legends that had also been inducted years ago, yet dropped off the list. I must credit Tom Ray for putting me on the trail of this mystery. Tom is a true historian, he has been a part of boxing in the ring, not just libraries. And there was Randy De La O, who put together a brilliant collage of photos, and created the greatest production covering the WBHOF event on YouTube.
I personally felt proud to have our friend, Chuck Johnston (A real boxing historian), join us at our table. All of these things were going thru my mind as I took the stage.
"Where Champions Live Forever." I was kinda proud of those words, and felt our group had contributed to this in 2009.
The ballot was the only embarrassing element related to the 2009 event. I should have paid more attention to it before it went out.
I was focusing on finding the missing legends and when I first saw the ballot I was speechless. Now I really had to make the program correct.
Mando and I agreed to change the printer for the 2010 ballot, and to allow myself, Dan Hanley and John Bardelli "proof read" it before it was printed and mailed.
The printer was not changed, I guess he was a personal friend of somebody. The copy was not forwarded to be edited.
It was decided that an inaccurate ballot mailed on time, was better than waiting a couple days for editing. So to Hell with history.
When boxers are not accuratley represented, how can people remember them? To be forgotten or disrespected is when a legend truly dies.
My idea of a World Boxing Hall of Fame is a celebration, not a funeral.
I want to thank everybody here who has contributed to the WBHOF by assisting me in attempting to make things right.
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Rodolfo Gonzalez vs. Ruben Navarro I
(Photo courtesy of Theo Ehret)
By Rick Farris
Rodolfo Gonzalez vs. Ruben Navarro-I
July 31,1972 - Anaheim Convention Center
"El Gato" vs. "The Maravilla Kid". This was an important bout between two top lightweight contenders.
WBA Champ Roberto Duran had been offered $75,000. to fight the winner in a title defense.
In a very close match, both fighters were cut, with Gonzalez keeping Navarro on the ropes much of the fight. In the end, Gonzalez was awarded a majority decision by the officials who scored the bout as follows: Chuck Hassett 4-4, John Thomas 5-4, Rudy Jordan, 4-3.
The title match with Duran never materialized for Gonzalez, who's stablemate Mando Ramos would lose the WBC title to Chango Carmona shortly afterwards. Ramos had been beaten badly and KOed by Carmona, who offered Gonzalez a shot at the WBC crown in his first title defense. Four months after edging Navarro, Rodolfo Gonzalez destroyed Carmona in twelve rounds to win the WBC crown. Like a true champion, Gonzalez agreed to defend his title against the deserving Navarro.
Eight months after the contest pictured above, El Gato and The Maravilla kid would meet again, only this time with a world title on the line. Ruben had won three straight after losing to Gonzalez, but at the Los Angeles Sports Arena on March 17, 1973, El Gato would dominate the Maravilla Kid.
Here is the Boxrec account of the Gonzalez-Navarro WBC Lightweight title bout:
Location: Sports Arena, Los Angeles, California, USA
Referee: George Latka
"In the first two rounds Ruben peppered the jab but Gonzalez casually slipped the weapon with bob and weave tactics and then rocked Navarro back on his heels with jolting left hook counters. By the 3rd round Gonzalez was beginning to catch the challenger on the ropes with solid combinations, which immediately caused an ugly mouse to form beneath his right eye. Aggressive but never awkward, Gonzalez managed to connect constantly with punches ranging from hooks to right uppercuts, while Ruben could land nothing in return. At last conceding that the jab was not the proper strategy, Navarro, 133, decided to try and club his foe in close. That wasn't the answer either. Strong as an ox, Rodolfo, 135, out-muscled Navarro with few difficulties and seemed almost bored in the process. But, although his eye was closed and his lips were caked with blood, the scrappy Navarro refused to give up until Referee George Latka took matters into his own hands at 2:33 of the 9th round." -International Boxing, August 1973 issue
Post fight comments
"I worked my ass off for this fight, but I just couldn't do anything. I don't know what the hell went wrong. He didn't hurt me but he humiliated me. He's 1000 percent improved since he won the title and I don't see anyone beating him for a few years." -Ruben Navarro
"I felt I was on top all the way. Actually I was pacing myself for the full route, but as it turned out, I got to go home early." -Rodolfo Gonzalez
Attendance: 16,146 Gate: $192,755
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Classic Photo: Rick Farris vs Gabe Gutierrez
Rick Farris (Flores Gym) vs. Gabe Gutierrez (Teamsters Gym)
1970 Diamond Belt Championship - 118 lbs.
Olympic Auditorium
Randy: Classic Photo! This is what "Classic American West Coast Boxing" is all about. Rick, I know you landed that right hand. Looks like a beautiful shot!
I see you fought Gutierrez three times as a pro. The first was a loss, not content with that you fought to a draw in the second and in the third fight you got the win. That's determination. I admire that. That's a fighter.
Rick: Thank you, Randy. I actually fought Gabe Gutierrez six times in an 18-month period.
I fought him three times as a 17-year-old amateur (the photo is from our last bout, he was 23-years-old).
He won the first amateur bout at the Olympic, we drew the second time, and I won the last (the bout pictured) for a Diamond Belt title.
We both turn pro a few months later, and again, he wins the first, the second a draw, and I end our series with a win.
The last time we fought I had just turned 19, and had nine pro fights. My body was maturing and I was gaining strength that I had lacked earlier.
I was now too strong for Gutierrez, and I beat him up pretty bad. I wanted to make sure he'd never want to fight me again.
I was tired of seeing him in front of me, I wanted to put and end to it. I also wanted to whip Louie Jauregui's fighter.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Collateral Damage . . . By Rick Farris
Rick Farris (L) vs. Jose Mendoza
The Forum, 1972
Referee- Dick Young
By Rick Farris
It was a tough fight.
We both got busted up pretty good in an eight-rounder.
I finished with a broken nose, left eye swollen shut, cut over right eye. I urinated blood most of the night.
And those little bumps you never hear about all over your head from butts, elbows, etc.
My pale English/Irish skin had glove and rope burns here and there.
That was the most damage I suffered in a bout, and I won a unanimous decision.
Mel Epstein was in the corner that night, along with Johnny Villaflor. Johnny took care of the cut, Epstein was blind.
In the drssing room afterwards, my father unlaced my shoes as I rested on a table.
The doctor had left the building to accompany a boxer to the hospital that had been KOed in the main event.
I was "out on my feet" in the shower. Thought I'd just stepped in before Mel told me I'd been in for 15 minutes. Get out of there!
Mel was left to close the cut. Dr. Jack Useem had left the building. As I mentioned, Mel was legally blind.
Thank God the old bastid didn't own a needle & thread.
He bitched and moaned while attempting to create a "butterfly" using tape and gauze.
Mel's hands shook like a Parkinson's patient. He was angry the doctor had left. I assure you I certainly wasn't pleased.
As Mel bitched thru the procedure. He condemned me for my "Saturday Night Special" (Mel's reference to my being over-sexed.)
Mel had no idea that less than 48 hours before the match, I was carried out of a bar over the shoulder of my buddy, a former USC running back.
I was so drunk, and so badly affected, that what should have been an easy win turned into a nightmare. I took a lot of unneccesary punishment.
I was twenty years old that night. Had been fighting pro for more than two years.
Mel told me before we entered the ring that night . . . "You ain't right. I can see in your eyes, you ain't right!"
Mel was right.
-Rick Farris
Thursday, December 24, 2009
One Kid . . .
Bobby Bell, Rick Farris, Dwight Hawkins & Manny Diaz. 1967 - Victoria Hall, L.A. These were my three amateur boxing coaches. I always did well with Dwight Hawkins in my corner. On this night, I stopped a boxer who fought out of the Jerry Moore/Henry Blouin stable.
By Rick Farris
We were all kids once. Some of us were lucky to have good parents, who were strong enough to put us on the right track. Sometimes we strayed, discovered that all the bad things they say would happen if we screwed up, actually would happen. Some of us like to push the envelope, learn the hard way, and such behavior takes a toll. One bad kid can sure do a lot of damage, and it has a ripple effect.
Sometimes home is not a happy place, and we have nobody to tell us what to do, or how to do it. Somebody will.
Hopefully that somebody is the right person, more often than not it's the wrong person. I knew a lot of kids in similar situations when I started boxing, just kids who'd wander off the street and make their way back to the gym behind manager Johnny Flores' garage in Pacoima.
Sometimes they were loaded, like this kid about my age who showed up with two buddies one evening in early 1967. He was loaded. His two buddies stood silent in the corner, as the kid told Johnny Flores that he could fight, and wanted to fight that night. He pointed to me, as I shadowboxed in the ring. "I want to fight him." the kid announced. We were about the same size, same age.
Flores smiled, he turned to me and winked, then turned back to the kid. "You want to box Ricky? OK."
The kid loooked at his friends and smiled big, the friends smiled back. They wanted to see their buddy kick some ass.
We didn't wear headgear, but Flores made the kid wear a mouthpiece. My trainer, Manny Diaz smiled when he put the mouthpiece in the kid's mouth. "You have to wear this, he'll knock your teeth out," I heard .
This was not a first. This happened once in awhile at Johnny's. I'd kicked a couple kid's asses, and my stablemates had too. Johnny never denied a young man a chance to realize his dream, and if trading blows with his boxers was their dream, he'd grant their wish. In the 60's, liability wasn't an issue, and you still could find men sporting a pair of balls.
When men were taught a lesson, they didn't have legal recourse, they just learned a valuable life lesson.
The kid who came in stoned with his buddies got his ass kicked that day. But he was tough, he didn't quit, his body just could not continue. He promised he'd be back the next day, he didn't show. However, about six months later he did show up. This time he came with a trainer, and his hair was cut. He was smiling, confident and clear. He and I would box again, and he had learned a few things during the months since we last slugged it out. His trainer was a good one. We would continue to box off and on, on occasion, many times over the next eight years. He did pretty well for himself, won a couple world titles, and became an L.A. legend. His name is Bobby Chacon.
Like me, Bobby Chacon found a safe haven in a boxing gym. We found a place where we belonged. I was lucky, several men such as Johnny Flores, Bobby Bell, Manny Diaz and Dwight Hawkins provided a solid example. I had great parents, my dad and I would bump heads a lot, my grandfather made it possible for me to box. That saved me. It doesn't matter how much opportunity a person appears to have, it all comes down to influence and choice. A fine line often seperates the best from the worst in life.
I don't know what motivated this thought. Maybe these photos are taking me back. I have a story I want to share with you guys. It's about my heavyweight stablemate, my best buddy. No, it wasn't Jerry Quarry, but our stablemate that was Quarry's sparring partner for the Mathis, Frazier & Chuvalo fights at the Garden. His story is better than Quarry's. Maybe next time?
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Power and the Passion of Dwight Hawkins (Part II)
By Rick Farris
By the time Dwight Hawkins turned twenty-three, he'd been a professional boxer nearly eight years. Hawkins had engaged in over 40 pro fights, many in the hometowns of some of the greatest boxers of the era. In order to get fights the Hawk had become a globe trotter and had traveled to Scotland, Venezuela and, of course, Mexico.
Mexico has always produced the finest of lower weight boxers and this was especially true during the years Dwight was active. The tough part about fighting in Mexico is that it was hard to win there. Even if you were good enough to beat the exceptional Mexican talent, the officials would find a way for the Mexican boxer to win. Boxing is serious business in Mexico and it's more important to Mexican boxers to be the champion of Mexico than it is to hold a world title.
Dwight Hawkins couldn't get important fights in his hometown because nobody wanted to risk suffering the effects of a match with the Hawk. So, Hawkins would face the best fighters that Mexico had to offer in places such as Mexico City, Guadalajara, Monterrey, Juarez, Tampico, Mexicali and Tijuana.
Less than three weeks after the death of Davey Moore, the Hawk traveled to Monterrey, Mexico to take on one of the greatest featherweights in history. Vicente Saldivar was, without question, one of the best 126 pound champions to ever lace on a glove. He retired unbeaten in 1967 after defending the featherweight title eight times and then came back to recapture the crown three years later.
If facing a great fighter such as Saldivar in Mexico was not enough, Hawkins would do so just days after the death of his closest friend. The cards were not stacked in Dwight's favor. Of course, they never were.
After losing to Saldivar on April 19th, the Hawk would remain inactive thru the rest of 1963. The following year I would enter the world of boxing and as luck would have it, I would meet Dwight Hawkins. Not only would it mark the beginning of my boxing career, it would also be the start of a winning streak for Hawkins.
I'll never forget the way Johnny Flores would speak of Dwight Hawkins. Flores had a number of top fighters such as heavyweight contender Jerry Quarry and lightweight Ruben Navarro, however, when he spoke of Dwight Hawkins it was with the greatest of respect and I would soon learn why.
I'd train at the Johnny Flores Gym during the week, but would take the bus into downtown Los Angeles on the weekends to workout at the legendary Main Street Gym. Amateurs were allowed to work out until 11 am. on weekends but then would have to clear the floor for the pros.
I'd always hang around the gym for a couple of hours to watch some of the greatest professional boxers of the era workout. One of them was Dwight Hawkins. To this day I have never seen a more devistating body puncher than the Hawk. Dwight's body punches were so brutal his sparring partners had to wear a padded water ski vest to protect their ribs from the impact. I'm not talking about amateurs, but highly regarded main eventers who knew better than to risk their health for the sake of a workout with Hawkins.
I'll never forget the Saturday I saw Hawkins batter a rough featherweight contender named David Sotelo in the gym. Sotelo had hung in with Dwight for four rounds, however, as the fighter stepped out of the ring he was literally talking to himself. Sotelo was obviously incoherent after the beating he had taken.
A few weeks later, something happened that hit Hawkins almost as hard as the loss of Davey Moore: The Watts Riots.
If you had any idea how much Dwight Hawkins had put into the youth of Watts, the kids who struggled daily living in the projects of Imperial Courts and Jordan Downs, you'd understand.
Upon hearing the news of the trouble in Watts, Hawkins immediatly jumped into his car and headed for Imperial Courts, hoping he could diffuse some of the tension. However, the police had that part of the city barracaded and would not let Dwight enter the war zone. As he turned to leave he saw a group of young men take a trash can and toss it thru the window of a men's store. Hawkins parked his car and confronted the youth's as they attempted to loot the building.
As a couple of the young men came out of the building with a stack of clothes, Hawkins asked them, "Hey man, why are you doing this? Don't you think this is dumb"? One of the bigger young men dropped the clothes he was carrying and took a step toward Hawkins, as if to start a fight. However, one look into the serious eyes of Dwight Hawkins told the youth that he best not take another step closer. Instead, he picked up the clothes and ran off with the other boys laughing.
A year later, after the riots were long over, Hawkins continued his work at Imperial Courts. He organized another boxing program and would spend his own money to provide boxing equipment for the kids at the project.
By 1966, Hawkins had remained unbeaten since the loss to Saldivar two years previous. During that time, Saldivar kayoed Sugar Ramos to win the World Featherweight title. In his first defense of the crown, Saldivar scored a 15th round knockout over a tough Los Angeles contender named Raul Rojas.
Rojas was a talented West Coast featherweight and was managed by Jackie McCoy. McCoy had been a top bantamweight back in the 40's and was one of the most respected manager-trainers in boxing. Jackie was not only a great teacher, but a well connected handler, whose boxers automatically became "house fighters" at the Olympic Auditorium. Promoter Aileen Eaton and Jackie McCoy had an unofficial alliance. McCoy's job was to provide the talent and Eaton would use her power to promote the talent into a world championship.
In 1966, Rojas was 24-years-old and after losing to Saldivar, had run up a string of victories that kept him at the top of the world ratings. Dwight Hawkins wanted nothing more than a chance to fight Rojas and was not afraid to make his desire known in public. After one of Hawkins' spectacular KO's at the Olympic, Dwight openly challenged Rojas in a televised post-fight interview. "Hey Raul, I know you're not chicken, so why don't you fight me right here at the Olympic to prove who is the best featherweight in Los Angeles". Hawkins' plea fell on deaf ears. Jackie McCoy was not a fool and neither was Aileen Eaton. The following year Rojas would defeat Enrique Higgens of Columbia to win the WBA Featherweight Title. Once again, Dwight Hawkins was left out in the cold.
Johnny Flores and Hal Benson took Dwight back down to Mexico where he would take on Mexican Featherweight Champ Aurileo Muniz in Tampico. At this point, Dwight Hawkins was at his absolute best, in his "prime" as boxing people say.
Muniz was rated in the top ten by The Ring Magazine and was second only to Saldivar among Mexican featherweights. In the seventh round, Hawkins knocked out the Mexican Champ. After the referee counted ten over Muniz, Flores grabbed Hawkins' robe and climbed up the steps into the ring. The local fans were upset that their fighter had been flattened and began to throw debris. As Hawkins and Flores awaited the decision they could see that there was some sort of commotion going on across the ring and Flores went to investigate.
The ring announcer grabbed the microphone and declared the fallen Muniz the winner on a technicality. The Mexican officials at ringside told Flores that he had violated the rules by entering the ring before the decision was announced. Now how's that for stretching it?
Flores was irate and filed a grievence with the Mexican Boxing Commission. About a week later the Commision changed the final verdict to a "draw." Today, the record reads that Hawkins and Muniz fought to a ten round draw on Arpril 7, 1967. However, the truth is Muniz never made it out of the seventh round.
Three weeks later, Hawkins scored a tenth round knockout over Jose Garcia in Las Vegas. This took place exactly a month before The Hawk would engage in one of the greatest fights in the history of Los Angeles boxing.
On June 1, 1967, Hawkins would fight top rated featherweight Bobby Valdez before a near capacity crowd at the Olympic Auditorium. It was promised that the winner of this bout would get a shot at Vicente Saldivar's world title before the end of summer. I'll never forget this fight. I was sitting with my dad and grandfather, about three rows from the ringside.
Both Valdez and Hawkins were hungry for a shot at the crown and went toe-to-toe in the most brutal prize fight I've ever seen. In the end, both fighters were bloody and had tasted the canvas. Valdez got off to a quick start and had the edge in the early rounds but Hawkins' vicious body attack started to take it's toll in the second half. Dwight had Valdez reeling in the final round but the courageous former Navy champ, from San Diego, hung on to the final bell. The bout was rightfully declared a draw and would be voted as Los Angeles' Fight of the Year for 1967.
Although the scorecards showed an even fight, the greater damage was done by Hawkins. The fight took everything out of Bobby Valdez and he was never the same again. Dwight just seemed to get better. Aileen Eaton sought an immediate rematch but Valdez's manager, Wes Wombold, said "no way". Since Hawkins was ready to fight and Valdez could'nt, he believed that he might finally get a shot at the title. However, Aileen Eaton told Flores, "no winner, no title shot". A few months later, Bobby Valdez retired.
Hawkins won his next four fights, two by KO, before leaving the country one more time to take on another unbeaten future world champ. This time, The Hawk would be headed for Tokyo, Japan.
Kiniaki Shibata is perhaps the best Japanese featherweight of all-time. On March 27, 1968, just two days before his twenty-first birthday, Shibata climbed into the ring with number three rated Dwight Hawkins at Tokyo's Kurokuen Hall. The unbeaten young Japanese contender had a record of 21-0 (15 KO's) and was looking past Hawkins to a match with his countryman, the great Fighting Harada. Harada had just lost the bantamweight title to Lionel Rose and was moving up to the featherweight division.
Unfortunatly for Shibata, he would have to get past The Hawk first. It was'nt going to happen. Hawkins beat the Japanese boxer to a pulp before putting him to sleep midway thru the seventh round. Shibata was unconcious so long that he had to be carried out of the ring on a stretcher. A couple of years later, Kiniaki Shibata would knock out Vicente Saldivar and win the World Featherweight championship.
I'll never forget the night Johnny Flores walked into his backyard gym after returning from Japan with Hawkins. He was carrying the front page of a Japanese newspaper and there was a huge picture of Shibata being carried out of the ring on a stretcher. Flores was very happy because the Japanese loved Hawkins and were offering big money for him to fight there.
A few weeks later Hawkins would return to Japan and take on another world rated Japanese featherweight, Rokuro Ishiyama. Hawkins flattened the Japanese featherweight champ in two rounds.
More popular than ever, Dwight Hawkins was once again invited back to Tokyo. In his next bout, Dwight Hawkins would be matched with the greatest Japanese boxer ever, former two-time World Champion, Mashiko Fighting Harada.
On June 5, 1968, Dwight Hawkins would step into a Tokyo boxing ring for the third time in just over two months. Fighting Harada was more than a former world champ, he was a Japanese legend. Hawkins and Harada went toe-to-toe in the center of the ring for ten rounds. Neither fighter would take a backward step and thruout the bout their heads crashed together opening cuts over the eyes of both boxers. At the end of the fight, Harada's white satin boxing trunks were red with blood. An American reporter in attendence told Flores that he'd counted more than eighty head butts during the fight.
The fight had been close but it appeared as if Dwight Hawkins had once again defeated a Japanese boxer. However, Harada was'nt just any Japanese boxer and the hometown officials were not going to allow their national hero to lose. Harada was awarded a split-decision win over Hawkins and was now in line for a shot at the new featherweight title holder, Johnny Famechon. Famechon had won the title following Vicente Saldivar's sudden retirement the previous year. However, ten rounds with Hawkins had taken a lot out of the Japanese great and Harada would lose twice to Famechon in two attempts to win the 126 pound title.
Despite the loss to Harada, Dwight Hawkins remains a celebrity in Japan to this day. It would be in Japan where Dwight would meet and marry his current wife of more than thirty years.
Back in Los Angeles, Jack Kent Cooke opened a beautiful new sports venue right next door to the Hollywood Park race track. Cooke named his state-of-the-art arena "The Fabulous Forum" and would use it to showcase the two professional teams he owned, The Los Angeles Lakers of the NBA and his hockey team, the Los Angeles Kings.
The Forum was one of the finest sports arenas on earth and could hold more than 18,000 fans for a boxing match. Legendary boxing promoter George Parnassus would take on the responsibility of promoting boxing matches at The Forum and Johnny Flores hoped this might offer his fighter Dwight Hawkins a chance to fight for a world title. There was no hope of Hawkins getting a title fight thru Aileen Eaton, who refused to allow any of her Olympic Auditorium "house boxers" to fight The Hawk.
After scoring a unanimous decision over a Filipino-Hawaiian named Jet Parker in Honolulu, Dwight Hawkins would face another tough Los Angeles based featherweight in his Forum Debut. On November 4, 1968, Dwight Hawkins and "Irish" Frankie Crawford would headline an all-start card that also featured the U.S. debut of future Welterweight Champ Jose Napoles and Dwight's stablemate, Ruben Navarro, the "Maravilla Kid" from East L.A.
This was a fight that had Hawkins concerned. I remember that all of the boxers fighting on the card would train daily in a boxing gym set-up in the ball room of the Alexandria Hotel in downtown L.A. George Parnassus' office was at the Alexandria and on weekends I'd finish my workouts at the Main Street Gym and then hurry over to the Alexandria to watch Hawkins, Crawford and the rest of the fighters on the upcoming Forum card workout.
I was sixteen at the time and remember sitting next to Hawkins as he wrapped his hands prior to one of the workouts. Hawkins was not worried about defeating Crawford but he was concerned about Frankie's dirty style. Crawford was one of the dirtiest fighters in the sport and I overheard Hawkins tell Navarro that if Frankie tried any of his garbage he would get it back worse. Dwight Hawkins did'nt need illegal tactics to win, but was well versed in the art of dirty fighting, if necessary. At the time Crawford was being managed by televison star Robert Conrad, whose TV series "The Wild, Wild West" was number one in the ratings. Conrad was a "wanna be" boxer who lived vicariously thru Crawford and took great pleasure in working his fighter's corner.
Crawford was a legitimatly tough world class contender whom had defeated lightweight champ Mando Ramos among others during his career. I remember attending the fight with my father and was a bit disappointed that our seats were not a little bit closer. However, thanks to a pair of binoculars, I had a very good view of what went on in the ring that night. In the first round Crawford hit Dwight with an uppercut below the belt and Hawkins landed on the seat of his pants. My binoculars were focused right in on the face of Hawkins and I knew that Crawford was about to pay dearly for this. Hawkins jumped to his feet and, from that moment on, handed Frankie Crawford the worst beating of his career. In the eighth round, Crawford was literally knocked thru the ropes and nearly fell out of the ring. If it were not for the ringside press who put there hands out to catch Frankie, he'd have rolled to the floor. Crawford struggled to get to his feet but could'nt beat the count of ten. Hawkins not only KO'ed Frankie Crawford, but did so in spectacular style. I would have to say that the funniest thing about this was the look on the face of Robert Conrad's -- the actor was in shock.
Hawkins would win several more times after defeating Crawford, however, was getting no closer to a title fight. Nearly thirty years old, time was running out on Dwight Hawkins. He'd been fighting professionally for nearly half his life and had more than eighty fights undr his belt.
The Ring magazine rated Hawkins number one in the world and an elimination match was set up to determine the next challenger for World Featherweight champ Johnny Famechon. Once again, Dwight Hawkins would be matched with yet another unbeaten future world champion. This time Hawkins would fight Venezuela's Antonio Gomez in a ten round title elimination bout on the undercard of the Lionel Rose-Ruben Olivares bantamweight title bout at The Forum.
While training for the Gomez fight, Hawkins sparred with bantamweight champ Lionel Rose one afternoon at the Alexandria Hotel. However, it would be a one time experience because The Hawk's devastating body shots bruised the Austrailian's ribs. As a result, Rose was forced to miss sparring for the next couple of days to allow his ribs to heal.
Before a packed house at the Fabulous Forum, Dwight Hawkins would fight his heart out for the very last time. At the end of nine rounds Hawkins had a slight edge on the scorecards of all three officials. It looked like Dwight Hawkins was just one round away from the title fight that had been alluding him for more than a dozen years. However, in the tenth and final round, Dwight Hawkins went down from a solid left hook to the chin. The Hawk struggled to his feet by the count of eight and told referee Dick Young he was "OK". However, Hawkins was not OK and Gomez battered Dwight against the ropes. Hawkins took a number of solid shots but refused to go down. The leg that Dwight had almost lost as a child was still supported by the elastic band he'd used so many years before when he began boxing as a child. The Hawk's legs were unsteady, but he was on his feet and trying to fight back.
With less than a minute remaining in the fight, Hawkins long time manager Johnny Flores, threw in the towel. Flores would later tell us that it was the hardest thing he ever had to do during the half century he had worked with boxers.
A few moments later I saw something that I had never seen before and will likely never see again. As I walked toward the dressing room area to see Hawkins, I saw tears in the eyes of some of the toughest boxing personalities in the sport. Many of them were in the house a dozen years earlier when Hawkins, only a teenager, had KO'ed Jose Becerra.
I've never felt so bad over a boxer losing a fight as I did that night in 1969. I felt empty inside and could'nt help but wonder, "What's next for Dwight Hawkins"? I would get the answer the following day at the Main Street Gym.
The next morning I was shadow boxing in front of a mirror next to the entrance to the gym floor and was surprised to see the Hawk walk in carrying his gym bag. I couldn't imagine why he would be in the gym the morning after a tough fight like he'd had the night before. Hawkins looked around and spotted Johnny Flores who was talking with Hal Benson and a couple of trainers. When Benson saw Hawkins he greeted the Hawk with a big smile on his face. Before Dwight could say a word Benson told him that he had some good news. Lionel Rose had also been knocked out the night before by Ruben Olivares, losing his banatmweight title. George Parnassus had told Benson after the fight that Rose would be moving up to the featherweight division and that he would like to match Hawkins with Rose, with the winner to get a shot at the featherweight title. Hawkins just smiled and told Benson "No thanks, I'm finished". He then handed Flores his gym bag and told Johnny to give the equipment to some young fighter who could us it. Benson put his hand on Dwight's shoulder and tried to convince him that he was one fight away from a title shot. The Hawk just smiled and then left the gym for the last time.
The following year I turned professional and after a half dozen fights I saw Dwight Hawkins in the gym one day. I immediatly went over to the Hawk to say hello and was happy to hear that he had returned to help Flores train heavyweight Mac Foster. Foster was a top heavyweight and had just signed a management contract with Flores. That day I got some great news from Johnny Flores. Flores told me that Hawkins would also be training me.
I was scheduled to fight on the undercard of a world lightweight title bout between champion Ken Buchanan and my stablemate Ruben Navarro. Ironically, the card would be held at the Los Angeles Sports Arena, they same building where 17-year-old Dwight Hawkins had upset Jose Becerra more than fourteen years earlier. I was eighteen at the time and found myself being over powered by stronger, more mature opponents. My boxing skills and speed allowed me to compete with these men but I needed more power. With the help of Dwight Hawkins, I was able to gain the extra punching power I needed. With Flores and the Hawk in my corner, I knocked out a tough vet who had held me to a draw in my first pro fight.
I lost contact with Hawkins after I stopped boxing and it was more than twenty years later before I would see him again. In 1995, I was recovering from a work-related injury that had me on crutches for a few weeks. As I hobbled around on the crutches I couldn't help but think of Dwight Hawkins and how he had been on crutches as a child. I began to wonder how the Hawk was doing and decided to try and locate him. A call to information was all I needed to find Dwight Hawkins and when I called I was happy that he still remembered who I was. A couple of days later my friend John Brumshagen who, ironiclly, had been close with featherweight Frankie Crawford, drove me to Hawkins house for a visit.
It was great visiting with Dwight Hawkins. As we sat in Dwight's living room and talked, I kept bringing up great fights from the past I'd seen him in. Dwight would smile and politely acknowledge his boxing career but would then quickly change the subject to what he really considered important. Dwight's main concern today is the kids of South Central Los Angeles and the problem related to the gangs.
It's guys like Dwight Hawkins that represent the best of boxing. More accuratly, it's guys like Dwight Hawkins that represent the best of humanity.
How lucky for me to have been around a guy like the Hawk.
By the time Dwight Hawkins turned twenty-three, he'd been a professional boxer nearly eight years. Hawkins had engaged in over 40 pro fights, many in the hometowns of some of the greatest boxers of the era. In order to get fights the Hawk had become a globe trotter and had traveled to Scotland, Venezuela and, of course, Mexico.
Mexico has always produced the finest of lower weight boxers and this was especially true during the years Dwight was active. The tough part about fighting in Mexico is that it was hard to win there. Even if you were good enough to beat the exceptional Mexican talent, the officials would find a way for the Mexican boxer to win. Boxing is serious business in Mexico and it's more important to Mexican boxers to be the champion of Mexico than it is to hold a world title.
Dwight Hawkins couldn't get important fights in his hometown because nobody wanted to risk suffering the effects of a match with the Hawk. So, Hawkins would face the best fighters that Mexico had to offer in places such as Mexico City, Guadalajara, Monterrey, Juarez, Tampico, Mexicali and Tijuana.
Less than three weeks after the death of Davey Moore, the Hawk traveled to Monterrey, Mexico to take on one of the greatest featherweights in history. Vicente Saldivar was, without question, one of the best 126 pound champions to ever lace on a glove. He retired unbeaten in 1967 after defending the featherweight title eight times and then came back to recapture the crown three years later.
If facing a great fighter such as Saldivar in Mexico was not enough, Hawkins would do so just days after the death of his closest friend. The cards were not stacked in Dwight's favor. Of course, they never were.
After losing to Saldivar on April 19th, the Hawk would remain inactive thru the rest of 1963. The following year I would enter the world of boxing and as luck would have it, I would meet Dwight Hawkins. Not only would it mark the beginning of my boxing career, it would also be the start of a winning streak for Hawkins.
I'll never forget the way Johnny Flores would speak of Dwight Hawkins. Flores had a number of top fighters such as heavyweight contender Jerry Quarry and lightweight Ruben Navarro, however, when he spoke of Dwight Hawkins it was with the greatest of respect and I would soon learn why.
I'd train at the Johnny Flores Gym during the week, but would take the bus into downtown Los Angeles on the weekends to workout at the legendary Main Street Gym. Amateurs were allowed to work out until 11 am. on weekends but then would have to clear the floor for the pros.
I'd always hang around the gym for a couple of hours to watch some of the greatest professional boxers of the era workout. One of them was Dwight Hawkins. To this day I have never seen a more devistating body puncher than the Hawk. Dwight's body punches were so brutal his sparring partners had to wear a padded water ski vest to protect their ribs from the impact. I'm not talking about amateurs, but highly regarded main eventers who knew better than to risk their health for the sake of a workout with Hawkins.
I'll never forget the Saturday I saw Hawkins batter a rough featherweight contender named David Sotelo in the gym. Sotelo had hung in with Dwight for four rounds, however, as the fighter stepped out of the ring he was literally talking to himself. Sotelo was obviously incoherent after the beating he had taken.
A few weeks later, something happened that hit Hawkins almost as hard as the loss of Davey Moore: The Watts Riots.
If you had any idea how much Dwight Hawkins had put into the youth of Watts, the kids who struggled daily living in the projects of Imperial Courts and Jordan Downs, you'd understand.
Upon hearing the news of the trouble in Watts, Hawkins immediatly jumped into his car and headed for Imperial Courts, hoping he could diffuse some of the tension. However, the police had that part of the city barracaded and would not let Dwight enter the war zone. As he turned to leave he saw a group of young men take a trash can and toss it thru the window of a men's store. Hawkins parked his car and confronted the youth's as they attempted to loot the building.
As a couple of the young men came out of the building with a stack of clothes, Hawkins asked them, "Hey man, why are you doing this? Don't you think this is dumb"? One of the bigger young men dropped the clothes he was carrying and took a step toward Hawkins, as if to start a fight. However, one look into the serious eyes of Dwight Hawkins told the youth that he best not take another step closer. Instead, he picked up the clothes and ran off with the other boys laughing.
A year later, after the riots were long over, Hawkins continued his work at Imperial Courts. He organized another boxing program and would spend his own money to provide boxing equipment for the kids at the project.
By 1966, Hawkins had remained unbeaten since the loss to Saldivar two years previous. During that time, Saldivar kayoed Sugar Ramos to win the World Featherweight title. In his first defense of the crown, Saldivar scored a 15th round knockout over a tough Los Angeles contender named Raul Rojas.
Rojas was a talented West Coast featherweight and was managed by Jackie McCoy. McCoy had been a top bantamweight back in the 40's and was one of the most respected manager-trainers in boxing. Jackie was not only a great teacher, but a well connected handler, whose boxers automatically became "house fighters" at the Olympic Auditorium. Promoter Aileen Eaton and Jackie McCoy had an unofficial alliance. McCoy's job was to provide the talent and Eaton would use her power to promote the talent into a world championship.
In 1966, Rojas was 24-years-old and after losing to Saldivar, had run up a string of victories that kept him at the top of the world ratings. Dwight Hawkins wanted nothing more than a chance to fight Rojas and was not afraid to make his desire known in public. After one of Hawkins' spectacular KO's at the Olympic, Dwight openly challenged Rojas in a televised post-fight interview. "Hey Raul, I know you're not chicken, so why don't you fight me right here at the Olympic to prove who is the best featherweight in Los Angeles". Hawkins' plea fell on deaf ears. Jackie McCoy was not a fool and neither was Aileen Eaton. The following year Rojas would defeat Enrique Higgens of Columbia to win the WBA Featherweight Title. Once again, Dwight Hawkins was left out in the cold.
Johnny Flores and Hal Benson took Dwight back down to Mexico where he would take on Mexican Featherweight Champ Aurileo Muniz in Tampico. At this point, Dwight Hawkins was at his absolute best, in his "prime" as boxing people say.
Muniz was rated in the top ten by The Ring Magazine and was second only to Saldivar among Mexican featherweights. In the seventh round, Hawkins knocked out the Mexican Champ. After the referee counted ten over Muniz, Flores grabbed Hawkins' robe and climbed up the steps into the ring. The local fans were upset that their fighter had been flattened and began to throw debris. As Hawkins and Flores awaited the decision they could see that there was some sort of commotion going on across the ring and Flores went to investigate.
The ring announcer grabbed the microphone and declared the fallen Muniz the winner on a technicality. The Mexican officials at ringside told Flores that he had violated the rules by entering the ring before the decision was announced. Now how's that for stretching it?
Flores was irate and filed a grievence with the Mexican Boxing Commission. About a week later the Commision changed the final verdict to a "draw." Today, the record reads that Hawkins and Muniz fought to a ten round draw on Arpril 7, 1967. However, the truth is Muniz never made it out of the seventh round.
Three weeks later, Hawkins scored a tenth round knockout over Jose Garcia in Las Vegas. This took place exactly a month before The Hawk would engage in one of the greatest fights in the history of Los Angeles boxing.
On June 1, 1967, Hawkins would fight top rated featherweight Bobby Valdez before a near capacity crowd at the Olympic Auditorium. It was promised that the winner of this bout would get a shot at Vicente Saldivar's world title before the end of summer. I'll never forget this fight. I was sitting with my dad and grandfather, about three rows from the ringside.
Both Valdez and Hawkins were hungry for a shot at the crown and went toe-to-toe in the most brutal prize fight I've ever seen. In the end, both fighters were bloody and had tasted the canvas. Valdez got off to a quick start and had the edge in the early rounds but Hawkins' vicious body attack started to take it's toll in the second half. Dwight had Valdez reeling in the final round but the courageous former Navy champ, from San Diego, hung on to the final bell. The bout was rightfully declared a draw and would be voted as Los Angeles' Fight of the Year for 1967.
Although the scorecards showed an even fight, the greater damage was done by Hawkins. The fight took everything out of Bobby Valdez and he was never the same again. Dwight just seemed to get better. Aileen Eaton sought an immediate rematch but Valdez's manager, Wes Wombold, said "no way". Since Hawkins was ready to fight and Valdez could'nt, he believed that he might finally get a shot at the title. However, Aileen Eaton told Flores, "no winner, no title shot". A few months later, Bobby Valdez retired.
Hawkins won his next four fights, two by KO, before leaving the country one more time to take on another unbeaten future world champ. This time, The Hawk would be headed for Tokyo, Japan.
Kiniaki Shibata is perhaps the best Japanese featherweight of all-time. On March 27, 1968, just two days before his twenty-first birthday, Shibata climbed into the ring with number three rated Dwight Hawkins at Tokyo's Kurokuen Hall. The unbeaten young Japanese contender had a record of 21-0 (15 KO's) and was looking past Hawkins to a match with his countryman, the great Fighting Harada. Harada had just lost the bantamweight title to Lionel Rose and was moving up to the featherweight division.
Unfortunatly for Shibata, he would have to get past The Hawk first. It was'nt going to happen. Hawkins beat the Japanese boxer to a pulp before putting him to sleep midway thru the seventh round. Shibata was unconcious so long that he had to be carried out of the ring on a stretcher. A couple of years later, Kiniaki Shibata would knock out Vicente Saldivar and win the World Featherweight championship.
I'll never forget the night Johnny Flores walked into his backyard gym after returning from Japan with Hawkins. He was carrying the front page of a Japanese newspaper and there was a huge picture of Shibata being carried out of the ring on a stretcher. Flores was very happy because the Japanese loved Hawkins and were offering big money for him to fight there.
A few weeks later Hawkins would return to Japan and take on another world rated Japanese featherweight, Rokuro Ishiyama. Hawkins flattened the Japanese featherweight champ in two rounds.
More popular than ever, Dwight Hawkins was once again invited back to Tokyo. In his next bout, Dwight Hawkins would be matched with the greatest Japanese boxer ever, former two-time World Champion, Mashiko Fighting Harada.
On June 5, 1968, Dwight Hawkins would step into a Tokyo boxing ring for the third time in just over two months. Fighting Harada was more than a former world champ, he was a Japanese legend. Hawkins and Harada went toe-to-toe in the center of the ring for ten rounds. Neither fighter would take a backward step and thruout the bout their heads crashed together opening cuts over the eyes of both boxers. At the end of the fight, Harada's white satin boxing trunks were red with blood. An American reporter in attendence told Flores that he'd counted more than eighty head butts during the fight.
The fight had been close but it appeared as if Dwight Hawkins had once again defeated a Japanese boxer. However, Harada was'nt just any Japanese boxer and the hometown officials were not going to allow their national hero to lose. Harada was awarded a split-decision win over Hawkins and was now in line for a shot at the new featherweight title holder, Johnny Famechon. Famechon had won the title following Vicente Saldivar's sudden retirement the previous year. However, ten rounds with Hawkins had taken a lot out of the Japanese great and Harada would lose twice to Famechon in two attempts to win the 126 pound title.
Despite the loss to Harada, Dwight Hawkins remains a celebrity in Japan to this day. It would be in Japan where Dwight would meet and marry his current wife of more than thirty years.
Back in Los Angeles, Jack Kent Cooke opened a beautiful new sports venue right next door to the Hollywood Park race track. Cooke named his state-of-the-art arena "The Fabulous Forum" and would use it to showcase the two professional teams he owned, The Los Angeles Lakers of the NBA and his hockey team, the Los Angeles Kings.
The Forum was one of the finest sports arenas on earth and could hold more than 18,000 fans for a boxing match. Legendary boxing promoter George Parnassus would take on the responsibility of promoting boxing matches at The Forum and Johnny Flores hoped this might offer his fighter Dwight Hawkins a chance to fight for a world title. There was no hope of Hawkins getting a title fight thru Aileen Eaton, who refused to allow any of her Olympic Auditorium "house boxers" to fight The Hawk.
After scoring a unanimous decision over a Filipino-Hawaiian named Jet Parker in Honolulu, Dwight Hawkins would face another tough Los Angeles based featherweight in his Forum Debut. On November 4, 1968, Dwight Hawkins and "Irish" Frankie Crawford would headline an all-start card that also featured the U.S. debut of future Welterweight Champ Jose Napoles and Dwight's stablemate, Ruben Navarro, the "Maravilla Kid" from East L.A.
This was a fight that had Hawkins concerned. I remember that all of the boxers fighting on the card would train daily in a boxing gym set-up in the ball room of the Alexandria Hotel in downtown L.A. George Parnassus' office was at the Alexandria and on weekends I'd finish my workouts at the Main Street Gym and then hurry over to the Alexandria to watch Hawkins, Crawford and the rest of the fighters on the upcoming Forum card workout.
I was sixteen at the time and remember sitting next to Hawkins as he wrapped his hands prior to one of the workouts. Hawkins was not worried about defeating Crawford but he was concerned about Frankie's dirty style. Crawford was one of the dirtiest fighters in the sport and I overheard Hawkins tell Navarro that if Frankie tried any of his garbage he would get it back worse. Dwight Hawkins did'nt need illegal tactics to win, but was well versed in the art of dirty fighting, if necessary. At the time Crawford was being managed by televison star Robert Conrad, whose TV series "The Wild, Wild West" was number one in the ratings. Conrad was a "wanna be" boxer who lived vicariously thru Crawford and took great pleasure in working his fighter's corner.
Crawford was a legitimatly tough world class contender whom had defeated lightweight champ Mando Ramos among others during his career. I remember attending the fight with my father and was a bit disappointed that our seats were not a little bit closer. However, thanks to a pair of binoculars, I had a very good view of what went on in the ring that night. In the first round Crawford hit Dwight with an uppercut below the belt and Hawkins landed on the seat of his pants. My binoculars were focused right in on the face of Hawkins and I knew that Crawford was about to pay dearly for this. Hawkins jumped to his feet and, from that moment on, handed Frankie Crawford the worst beating of his career. In the eighth round, Crawford was literally knocked thru the ropes and nearly fell out of the ring. If it were not for the ringside press who put there hands out to catch Frankie, he'd have rolled to the floor. Crawford struggled to get to his feet but could'nt beat the count of ten. Hawkins not only KO'ed Frankie Crawford, but did so in spectacular style. I would have to say that the funniest thing about this was the look on the face of Robert Conrad's -- the actor was in shock.
Hawkins would win several more times after defeating Crawford, however, was getting no closer to a title fight. Nearly thirty years old, time was running out on Dwight Hawkins. He'd been fighting professionally for nearly half his life and had more than eighty fights undr his belt.
The Ring magazine rated Hawkins number one in the world and an elimination match was set up to determine the next challenger for World Featherweight champ Johnny Famechon. Once again, Dwight Hawkins would be matched with yet another unbeaten future world champion. This time Hawkins would fight Venezuela's Antonio Gomez in a ten round title elimination bout on the undercard of the Lionel Rose-Ruben Olivares bantamweight title bout at The Forum.
While training for the Gomez fight, Hawkins sparred with bantamweight champ Lionel Rose one afternoon at the Alexandria Hotel. However, it would be a one time experience because The Hawk's devastating body shots bruised the Austrailian's ribs. As a result, Rose was forced to miss sparring for the next couple of days to allow his ribs to heal.
Before a packed house at the Fabulous Forum, Dwight Hawkins would fight his heart out for the very last time. At the end of nine rounds Hawkins had a slight edge on the scorecards of all three officials. It looked like Dwight Hawkins was just one round away from the title fight that had been alluding him for more than a dozen years. However, in the tenth and final round, Dwight Hawkins went down from a solid left hook to the chin. The Hawk struggled to his feet by the count of eight and told referee Dick Young he was "OK". However, Hawkins was not OK and Gomez battered Dwight against the ropes. Hawkins took a number of solid shots but refused to go down. The leg that Dwight had almost lost as a child was still supported by the elastic band he'd used so many years before when he began boxing as a child. The Hawk's legs were unsteady, but he was on his feet and trying to fight back.
With less than a minute remaining in the fight, Hawkins long time manager Johnny Flores, threw in the towel. Flores would later tell us that it was the hardest thing he ever had to do during the half century he had worked with boxers.
A few moments later I saw something that I had never seen before and will likely never see again. As I walked toward the dressing room area to see Hawkins, I saw tears in the eyes of some of the toughest boxing personalities in the sport. Many of them were in the house a dozen years earlier when Hawkins, only a teenager, had KO'ed Jose Becerra.
I've never felt so bad over a boxer losing a fight as I did that night in 1969. I felt empty inside and could'nt help but wonder, "What's next for Dwight Hawkins"? I would get the answer the following day at the Main Street Gym.
The next morning I was shadow boxing in front of a mirror next to the entrance to the gym floor and was surprised to see the Hawk walk in carrying his gym bag. I couldn't imagine why he would be in the gym the morning after a tough fight like he'd had the night before. Hawkins looked around and spotted Johnny Flores who was talking with Hal Benson and a couple of trainers. When Benson saw Hawkins he greeted the Hawk with a big smile on his face. Before Dwight could say a word Benson told him that he had some good news. Lionel Rose had also been knocked out the night before by Ruben Olivares, losing his banatmweight title. George Parnassus had told Benson after the fight that Rose would be moving up to the featherweight division and that he would like to match Hawkins with Rose, with the winner to get a shot at the featherweight title. Hawkins just smiled and told Benson "No thanks, I'm finished". He then handed Flores his gym bag and told Johnny to give the equipment to some young fighter who could us it. Benson put his hand on Dwight's shoulder and tried to convince him that he was one fight away from a title shot. The Hawk just smiled and then left the gym for the last time.
The following year I turned professional and after a half dozen fights I saw Dwight Hawkins in the gym one day. I immediatly went over to the Hawk to say hello and was happy to hear that he had returned to help Flores train heavyweight Mac Foster. Foster was a top heavyweight and had just signed a management contract with Flores. That day I got some great news from Johnny Flores. Flores told me that Hawkins would also be training me.
I was scheduled to fight on the undercard of a world lightweight title bout between champion Ken Buchanan and my stablemate Ruben Navarro. Ironically, the card would be held at the Los Angeles Sports Arena, they same building where 17-year-old Dwight Hawkins had upset Jose Becerra more than fourteen years earlier. I was eighteen at the time and found myself being over powered by stronger, more mature opponents. My boxing skills and speed allowed me to compete with these men but I needed more power. With the help of Dwight Hawkins, I was able to gain the extra punching power I needed. With Flores and the Hawk in my corner, I knocked out a tough vet who had held me to a draw in my first pro fight.
I lost contact with Hawkins after I stopped boxing and it was more than twenty years later before I would see him again. In 1995, I was recovering from a work-related injury that had me on crutches for a few weeks. As I hobbled around on the crutches I couldn't help but think of Dwight Hawkins and how he had been on crutches as a child. I began to wonder how the Hawk was doing and decided to try and locate him. A call to information was all I needed to find Dwight Hawkins and when I called I was happy that he still remembered who I was. A couple of days later my friend John Brumshagen who, ironiclly, had been close with featherweight Frankie Crawford, drove me to Hawkins house for a visit.
It was great visiting with Dwight Hawkins. As we sat in Dwight's living room and talked, I kept bringing up great fights from the past I'd seen him in. Dwight would smile and politely acknowledge his boxing career but would then quickly change the subject to what he really considered important. Dwight's main concern today is the kids of South Central Los Angeles and the problem related to the gangs.
It's guys like Dwight Hawkins that represent the best of boxing. More accuratly, it's guys like Dwight Hawkins that represent the best of humanity.
How lucky for me to have been around a guy like the Hawk.
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