Kup's Chicago - Irv Kupcinet [78]
On the credit side, it was here that some of the best fights in modern ring history were staged – brilliant matches that did much to elevate boxing to its present position among legitimate sports. Championship bouts promoted here have drawn some of boxing’s biggest gates (including Dempsey-Tunney in 1927, Louis-Brad-dock in 1937, and Graziano-Zale in 1947). Chicago boxing clubs made possible the development of such champions as Battling Nelson, Jackie Fields, Barney Ross, Johnny Bratton, and Tony Zale.
Because Chicago is a boxing center second only to New York, fight fans have been able to follow such great champions as Joe Louis, Sugar Ray Robinson, and Rocky Marciano at their best. As a sportswriter and columnist, I have come to know these three men personally, and to admire each of them for special qualities: Louis, for his superb confidence and calm before a contest in which his whole reputation was at stake; Robinson, for his flawless timing and his ability to emerge from many of his toughest fights almost unmarked and barely winded; and Marciano, for his almost unbelievable modesty. The heavyweight championship is boxing’s biggest prize and one of the most coveted and remunerative sports titles in the world – and the Rock won it and retired with it without a defeat on his professional record. He was one of the foremost celebrities of his day, but fame never spoiled his simplicity. When I introduced him to such fans of his as Ralph Edwards, Tony Martin, or Bob Hope, Rocky was as overwhelmed as any wide-eyed boy from the country. It was boxing’s loss that no contenders had been produced who could have given Rocky an incentive to remain active as champion.
One of the most rewarding aspects of covering boxing in Chicago has been the opportunity to follow the development of potential champions. I’ll never forget the night a young kid from Detroit was appearing professionally for the first time at Marigold Gardens, on Chicago’s North Side. He had speed. He had power. He had everything.
“Here is a boy who can’t miss becoming a champion,” everybody agreed.
He didn’t miss. His name was Joe Louis.
The redoubtable Tony Zale also fought some of his earliest matches at Marigold. I’ll always remember one of them. Tony, who had been boxing since he was fourteen years old, in Gary, Indiana, was knocked out by a right to the jaw in the first round. He later flattened his opponent and went on to win the first unambiguous middleweight championship of the world in ten years. (This is the simplest way I know to describe a complicated situation that has confused the record books. In the period from 1931 until 1941, the National Boxing Association and the New York State Athletic Commission refused to recognize each other’s titles in this division. Zale was the first champion acceptable to both organizations.) At the peak of his career, and just as his title was nationally recognized, Tony spent three years and five months in the Navy in World War II. And in 1946, when he was thirty-two, Tony fought the first of three of the most fiercely contested championship fights in history, against Rocky Graziano.
The most exciting of the three Zale-Graziano bouts was the second, which took place indoors at the Chicago Stadium, on one of the hottest July nights I remember. It was 98 degrees at ringside and 110 under the lights. A capacity crowd packed the enormous building. (The gate receipts still hold the record for an indoor bout.) Graziano, who had lost the first fight, in New York, came out punching. So did Zale. Toe to toe, they never stopped hammering each other until the sixth round, when Graziano won on a technical knockout. The next year Zale regained his title in Newark. He held it until Marcel Cerdan knocked him out of the ring for good.
There have been many luckless boxers on my beat. Most of them never made it at all. A few battled their way to the top, but ended up hooked on narcotics – including welterweight champion Johnny