This week’s quote comes to us courtesy of “human soundboard” Adrien Broner moments before his bout with Gavin Rees on February 16, 2013. In response to the “scrap” that was developing in a preliminary between Sakio Bika and Nikola Sjekloca, Broner, when asked whether his fight with Rees might contain similar levels of haphazardness, replied, “I’m not a fan of letting a sweaty man touch me.”
By Jim Amato
Henry Hank of Detroit, born in 1935, began his long professional career in 1953. In less than two years he was fighting the likes of Virgil Akins, and by 1959, Henry was good enough to mix it up with the best middleweights and light heavyweights in the world, fighting men like Holly Mims, George Benton, Jesse Bowdry, Hank Casey, Randy Sandy and Gene Armstrong.
In 1961, Henry beat Joey Giardello. They met again in 1962 with Joey turning the tables. The rematch was voted the Fight of the Year by Ring Magazine for 1962.
Other top names on his record include Chic Calderwood, Dick Tiger and Mauro Mina. Henry also defeated future heavyweight titleholder Jimmy Ellis.
On October 23, 1963 Henry met Eddie Cotton for the Michigan version of the light heavyweight title. Despite losing in fifteen rounds, Henry would go on to meet Harold Johnson, Johnny Persol, and the great Bob Foster (who halted Henry in ten in 1964 and outscored him in a 1965 return match), before later meeting Roger Rouse and Heschel Jacobs.
Henry became the “Man” for young contenders to fight on their way up the ladder. Henry tested tough upstarts like Mark Tessman, Eddie “Bossman” Jones, Hal Carroll and Charlie “Devil” Green.
In one of his last fights, Henry went ten rounds with the then unbeaten mammoth heavyweight, Claude “Humphrey” McBride, and his last official fight was a decision loss to highly ranked Andy Kendall in 1972.
In all, Henry had 97 fights with 62 wins, 31 losses, 4 draws and forty KO victories. An impressive record considering the quality of opposition he faced in his outstanding career. He was halted only once and that was by the fearsome Foster. No shame there.
Jim Amato is a participating member of both the Boxing Writers Association of America and the International Boxing Research Organization. He is a longtime correspondent of sport, both inside and outside the ring, and he is currently the president and owner of Amato Sports Memorabilia. Jim’s other works and “Legends of Leather” articles can be found at http://boxinggreats.multiply.com
By Jim Amato
He may very well be one of the most underrated champions of the glorious 70′s, winning an astounding 70 of 73 battles, holding the 140 pound title for nearly four years, and never losing his belt in the ring. He was a 5’5″ southpaw from Italy named Bruno Arcari.
Amazingly, he was stopped in his first professional fight in 1964; however, he would then win ten straight before being halted again, and he would never lose another fight! In 1966, he proved he was a legitimate contender when he beat former lightweight king Joe Brown, and in 1967, he followed that up by beating the always tough Angel Robinson Garcia. In 1968, he won the European junior welterweight title by halting the respected Johann Orsolics.
In 1970, he won the WBC junior welterweight title with a decision over Pedro Adigue, and over the next four years, this champion defeated the likes of Bunny Grant, Rene Roque, Raymundo Dias, Joao Henrique, Enrique Jana, Domingo Barrera Corpas, “Have Mercy Mr. Percy” Pugh, Chris Fernandez, Joergen Hansen, Robert Gallios and Antonio Hernandez.
He would give up his title without being defeated, deciding to move up to welterweight hoping for a shot at the great Jose Napoles and his welterweight title. He would defeat the likes of quality fighters like Doc McClendon, Lawrence Hafey, the extremely talented Harold Weston, a one round kayo of Gaetan Hart, a fifth round stoppage of the dangerous David Love and a draw with future junior middleweight champion Rocky Mattioli.
He would win his last three fights and then retire in 1978. Why is this champion so overlooked?
Jim Amato is a participating member of both the Boxing Writers Association of America and the International Boxing Research Organization. He is a longtime correspondent of sport, both inside and outside the ring, and he is currently the president and owner of Amato Sports Memorabilia. Jim’s other works and “Legends of Leather” articles can be found at http://boxinggreats.multiply.com
By Jim Amato
The only year that I was able to attend the International Boxing Hall Of Fame ceremonies was in June of 1998. That year one of my favorites was inducted. His name is Miguel Canto. He fought in an era that produced so many wonderful boxers from 140 pounds on down. How many of these “little guys” are truly remembered today? At super lightweight you had the legendary Antonio Cervantes. There was also a youthful boxer who stopped in at 140 just long enough to outbox the great Cervantes and take his title. That of course would be Wilfred Benitez. There were other fine fighters at 140 lbs. Guys like Billy Costello, Saoul Mamby, Leroy Haley, Bruce Curry and the one and only Aaron Pryor.
Roberto Duran dominated the lightweight world for eight long years. Only Esteban DeJesus was able to really hang with Roberto. Nevertheless DeJesus was a great fighter in his own right. In the 130 pound weight class only one name sticks out-ARGUELLO. Alexis literally wiped out that division. After Arguello moved up in weight, four of his past opponents would garner a piece of the title. Boza Edwards, Rolando Navarette, Rafael Limon and Bobby Chacon all stepped up after Alexis moved on. Too bad Alexis didn’t move up to lightweight a little sooner. We as fans may have had a chance to see Duran-Arguello !
The featherweight division was also rich with talent. Vincente Saldivar helped bridge the gap between the 60′s and 70′s, Danny “Little Red” Lopez was a thrill a minute champion, and Eusebio Pedroza laid claim to the crown. The real star though was Salvador Sanchez. It is amazing to see how much he accomplished before his tragic death at the age of 22. The bastard 122 pound weight division showcased the great talents of Wilfredo Gomez. The bantamweight division gave us Japan’s favorite son Fighting Harada along with the outstanding Eder Jofre. Then there was the murderous punching Ruben Olivares along with his great adversary Chucho Castillo. Then there was Rafael Herrera and Rodolfo Martinez. Later came the “Z Bombers” Carlos Zarate and Alfonso Zamora. Add in Jeff Chandler and Lupe Pintor and you can see it was the most loaded division of this era.
Last but far from least were the true little guys of the game. The flyweights…Starting with three time titleholder Pone Kingpetch, the title changed hands rather often. Chartchai Chionoi was another dominant flyweight title holder, as was Masao Ohba, before his untimely death. Miguel Canto was one of the best boxers I’ve ever seen but the competition was fierce, with boxers like Betulio Gonzalez making their mark during this time period also.
Jim Amato is a participating member of both the Boxing Writers Association of America and the International Boxing Research Organization. He is a longtime correspondent of sport, both inside and outside the ring, and he is currently the president and owner of Amato Sports Memorabilia. Jim’s other works and “Legends of Leather” articles can be found at http://boxinggreats.multiply.com
By Aaron Lloyd
The life of a ringside cameraman, while glamorous on the surface, can quickly turn into a “Gallagher-style” nightmare when the sweat (or gravy in the case of Eric “Butterbean” Esch) starts flying, and the Vaseline globules start to cloud the lens. Often the most envied individuals in the arena based on their proximity to the action, cameraman dance precipitously on the apron trying to get the perfect shot, endangering themselves, and on the rarest of occasions, even the subjects they are supposed to be filming. Such was the case on February 20, 1993 during the Virgil Hill-Adolpho Washington WBA light heavyweight title bout, when a ringside cameraman, doing his best to capture the drama, inadvertently became an unwitting participant in it.
Fighting in front of his hometown crowd in Fargo, North Dakota, WBA light heavyweight champion Virgil Hill was cruising through the second defense of his title, and seemed destined to arrive at a lopsided decision victory as the fight drew to a close. His opponent, Adolpho Washington, was bleeding slightly from a cut over his right eye, he had swelling developing over his left eye, and he was trailing by double digits on the scorecards when the bell sounded to end the eleventh frame. Returning to his corner for his final reprieve, Washington was about to sit down on his stool when the cameraman, hoping to get a closer look at the carnage that was transpiring on Washington’s face, accidentally butted him, delivering the most unusual of knockout blows. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” said referee Steve Smoger. As he (Washington) turned to sit, the tip of the camera sliced him. I was shocked. The first thing I thought is ‘what do I do now?’” Smoger instantly called the ring physician in to assess the situation, and after viewing the sizable gash made from the camera’s impact, the fight was sent to the scorecards by way of a technical decision. As predicted, Hill won in anti-climactic fashion on all three judges’ scorecards, but the abbreviated ending was definitely one for the books. The rest is boxing history…
By Aaron Lloyd
If you are a boxing fan, no trip to the western portion of New York State would be complete without a stop at the Bare Knuckle Boxing Hall of Fame in Belfast. Situated about an hour and fifteen minutes southeast of Buffalo, the Bare Knuckle Boxing Hall of Fame pays homage to the hard-headed (and hard-handed) souls of the “pre-Marquess of Queensbury” era, most prominently, John L. Sullivan, the last sanctioned bare knuckle champion and first American athlete to amass more than a million dollars over the course of his career. 
Displayed proudly on the property are two of the original training barns that Sullivan used in preparation for his 1889 bout with Jake Kilrain, both containing period pieces of training equipment and preserved exactly as they stood more than 120 years ago! Step inside and immediately be transported to a time when knuckles were soaked in brine, beer was the only performance enhancing drug, and the Boston Strong Boy could still “lick any son of a bitch in the world.” As you peruse the exhibits and take in the testosterone infused ambiance, be sure to check out the “Room of Repose” where Sullivan and trainer William Muldoon relaxed after a long day and gathered to confer about ring strategy.
“I have stood where Ali stood. I have stood where Foreman stood. I have fought in Madison Square Garden. The unique experience of standing where The Great John L. Sullivan stood – the man who started it all – is in a class by itself,” said former NABF heavyweight champion Baby Joe Mesi. “It is simply awesome. The whole world needs to see this place; it is a true boxing treasure.”
So stop in and do some exploring. Who knows, in addition to the insight and inspiration, you might just stumble across one of the many jugs of hooch that Sullivan had hidden in the building’s many cracks and crevices!
The Best Time to Visit: The best time to visit the Bare Knuckle Boxing Hall of Fame is in the summer during their annual induction ceremony (July 13th and 14th 2013) when a number of activities and events are scheduled; however, tours are offered year round by appointment for groups of five or more at a cost of $10 per person, and all proceeds go toward continued renovation and maintenance of the property. For more information on induction itineraries or progress on future restoration projects, please visit their website at www.bareknuckleboxinghalloffame.com or contact hall of fame coordinator Scott Burt at sburt@aol.com.
By Aaron Lloyd
Primo Carnera, the 13th lineal heavyweight champion of the world, known disparagingly as the “Ambling Alp” (perhaps as much for his naiveté as his lumbering giganticness), fought his entire career without knowledge that the majority of his fights were not “above board.” More side-show curiosity than top tier pugilist, Carnera, standing 6’6” and routinely weighing more than 260 pounds, was an attractive commodity for the unscrupulous sorts looking to derive profit out of “stage-managing” a heavyweight to the championship in the 1920s and 30s. While many boxing pundits are divided on the exact degree of fraudulence that defines the legacy of Primo Carnera, most would agree that without the right underworld connections he would never have made it to the pinnacle of the sport solely on his own merits. In fact, it is widely believed that most of Carnera’s fights (including his championship victory over Jack Sharkey in 1933) were manipulated by his manager Leon See and New York mobster Owen “the Killer” Madden, a claim that is substantiated by the inordinate number of investigations, and withheld purses, sprinkled throughout Carnera’s record. More snake oil salesmen than a reputable management team, Carnera’s merry band of pranksters hastily made a bee line out of town after each fight before the stench of the hoax had time to settle in, hitting 22 different cities in 1930 alone. It was quite a show, and everywhere Carnera went there was a throng of fans eager to witness the spectacle of the “strongman-turned boxer,” and there was no shortage of individuals willing to take a dive for the right compensation. However, on one occasion, a 32-year journeyman named Leon “Bombo” Chevalier nearly sabotaged the whole racket when, after a change of heart, he decided to go “off-script” and fight Carnera on even terms.
Chevalier, outweighed by 60 pounds and sporting a very modest 19-11-4 record that including 11 knockout wins, was a convincing candidate to become Carnera’s 26th knockout victim when the two met on April 14, 1930 in Emeryville, California. Before the fight, Chevalier and his manager Tom McGrath had reportedly agreed to the terms of the “prearranged” outcome (which involved him ultimately lying prone on the canvas at the fight’s conclusion) and seconds before the opening bell there was little doubt that Carnera would record his 16th straight stoppage victory. Unfortunately, Chevalier, overcome by a combination of emotion, poor judgment, and an overwhelming sense of Carnera’s ineptitude, decided that a signature win over Carnera would be more beneficial to his career than a few instant gratifying dollars in his pocket. So, in an interesting turn of events, Chevalier began to take on the qualities of a real opponent, and to the astonishment of those supposedly “pulling the strings,” the fight was taking an unexpected and rather precarious turn. Chevalier was having success getting to Carnera, and were it not for some calculated “Plan-B” thinking by Madden and his cronies, Carnera might have incurred a major setback on his path to the championship. Being the prepared mobster that he was, however, Madden had the wherewithal to plant a “mole” in Chevalier’s corner before the fight, on the off chance that just such an event might transpire, and in between the 5th and 6th rounds, one of Chevalier’s chief seconds, a man named Bob Perry, emerged to become an indelible part of boxing lore.
With Chevalier showing no signs of conceding, Perry responded by taking a sponge soaked in resin and red pepper and raking it across Chevalier’s eyes moments before the start of the sixth round. He then forced his impaired fighter out for the sixth frame, anticipating a Carnera knockout and an end to this “fix gone awry.” Instead, Chevalier continued his assault on Carnera, wildly and blindly inflicting damage on his oversized counterpart for the next three rounds. In the ninth round, however, Chevalier suffered a flash knockdown, and despite rising instantly and showing no outward signs of duress, looked on in disbelief as the towel from his corner came cascading onto the canvas. Perry, sensing his opportunity, had sprung to the apron and thrown in the towel, and the referee, as surprised as everyone else, had no choice but to call a halt to the action and award Carnera the victory by way of a 9th round TKO. Instantly, the crowd, many of them pro-Carnera supporters, protested the abbreviated outcome and a full scale riot erupted, with the corner-turned-con at the epicenter of the fury, suffering a laceration over his right eye as he made a hasty retreat back to his dressing room. Once there, Perry was questioned by the California Boxing Commission (CBC) about his involvement in the so called “plot” and the purses’ of both fighters were withheld pending a more thorough investigation. Eventually the commission relented and both fighters were paid accordingly, but not before Carnera suffered the indignation of having his license revoked by the CBC as well as the New York State Athletic Commission. Speaking on the matter of lost potential revenue, sportwriter Grantland Rice later opined, “That towel may be the most costly piece of tapestry ever known.” Fortunately, Carnera enjoyed many more years of sustained profitability on his path to the heavyweight championship, but the financial exploitation and mistreatment he endured by his handlers caused Carnera to offer up this bit of advice regarding the manager-fighter relationship: “He who goes slow, goes surely. He who wants to travel far is kind to his horse.” As for Chevalier, who crossed the double-crossers and literally “lived to fight another day,” he fought an additional 19 times through 1934, officially retiring with an overall record of 25-20-8, including 14 knockouts. The rest is boxing history…
By Aaron Lloyd
“Powerful, vigorous men of strong animal development must have some way in which their animal spirits can find vent.”- Theodore Roosevelt
Teddy Roosevelt, the quintessential rough-riding, fast-living, 26th President of the United States, was an avid sportsman, as well as a dedicated enthusiast and willful participant of the “sweet science.” In college he was a member of Harvard’s Boxing Team (losing in the finals of the lightweight intramural tournament in 1879), he maintained friendships with professional boxers such as Bob Fitzsimmons, Battling Nelson, and John L. Sullivan, and as Governor of New York (and later as President) he routinely had fresh-faced military aides brought in to help keep him in fighting trim. To the ire of his chief financial administrator, Roosevelt even requested that a wrestling mat be brought into the governor’s office, despite his comptroller’s contention that a billiards table might look a bit more “gubernatorial.” Yes, from his time spent as a sickly youth growing up in New York City, to his time spent on the open range as a hunter, explorer, and naturalist in his later years, Teddy Roosevelt always had a fondness for physical pursuits, and boxing, among other activities, was one outlet that he turned to regularly to keep his “testosterone levels sufficiently stoked.”
“Naturally, being fond of boxing… I have never been able to sympathize with the outcry against prize-fighters. The only objection I have to the prize ring is the crookedness that has attended its commercial development. Outside of this I regard boxing, whether professional or amateur, as a first-class sport…(and) I shall always maintain that boxing contests themselves make good, healthy sport.”
While the physical exploits of Teddy Roosevelt are well documented, one story that received considerably less publicity (particularly at the time) was the injury that he received during a sparring session in 1908 that forced his doctors to issue a “cease and desist” order on all “fisticuff-related” activities. At 50-years of age, the then President of the United States, suffered a severe eye injury that would eventually result in permanent blindness due to damage sustained to his retina. Speaking on the subject years later in his autobiography, Roosevelt wrote:
“I had to abandon boxing as well as wrestling, for in one bout a young captain of artillery cross-countered me on the eye, and the blow smashed the little blood vessels. Fortunately it was my left eye, but the sight has been dim ever since, and if it had been the right eye I should have been entirely unable to shoot. Accordingly I thought it better to acknowledge that I had become an elderly man and would have to stop boxing. I then took up jujitsu for a few years.”
In what became one of the biggest cover-ups of Roosevelt’s entire presidency, only a handful of individuals were made aware of the President’s injury, and subsequent disability, and to this day, only a small percentage of Americans are aware that their 26th president, aside from carrying a big stick, also had the occasion to let his fists do the talking for him. It’s just a shame the White House is not fitted with a wrestling mat these days; John McCain versus Harry Reid anyone?
By Jim Amato
For most of the 1960’s and part of the early 1970’s Canadian George Chuvalo was a mainstay in the talent rich heavyweight ratings. RING Magazine founder Nat Fleischer called George one of the most durable fighters he had ever seen. In his long distinguished career the rock jawed Chuvalo was NEVER off his feet. Amazing seeing the competition he faced. For the sake of space let’s start looking at George’s career from 1965 on.
Chuvalo’s 1965 bout with ex-world champion Floyd Patterson was one of the year’s best action fights. George never stopped coming forward as he landed clubbing rights to Floyd’s head and terrific lefts to his body. Still Floyd showed a heart that everyone doubted he had. He absorbed Chuvalo’s fury and used his outstanding hand speed to win a popular decision over George. Although George lost, his courage impressed the crowd. Despite the losing effort, Chuvalo was matched with World Boxing Association titleholder Ernie Terrell. When Ali met Sonny Liston in their rematch, the W.B.A. stripped Ali and recognized the winner of a Terrell-Eddie Machen bout. Terrell captured a boring verdict and the “vacant” crown. Against Chuvalo, the 6’7” Terrell used a long jab and a “grab and clutch style” to outscore George over fifteen rounds.
The roller coaster career of Chuvalo continued into 1966. George traveled to London and was upset by Argentina’s Eduardo Corletti in ten rounds. The loss appeared to have pushed George out of the title picture. Instead he benefited by being in the right place at the right time. When a proposed Ali-Terrell fight fell through, Ali agreed to come to Toronto and defend against George. Although the bout was entertaining it was also one sided. Try as he might, George was unable to reach the fleet-footed Ali. For all his efforts, Chuvalo received numerous jabs, hooks, uppercuts and crosses from a prime Ali. Even in losing, George received the respect of the public for his gaminess. Later in the year Chuvalo met fellow brawler Oscar Bonevena of Argentina. What looked to be a great match up between the two sluggers turned out to be a dud. Oscar “finessed” George to win a ten round decision.
George got back on track in 1967. Two kayo victories over Willi Besmanoff led to Chuvalo being matched with the streaking Joe Frazier. “Smokin” Joe had won the 1964 Olympic Gold Medal and was undefeated as a pro. George was to be his toughest match to date. Frazier was at his best in this battle as he ravaged George throughout with his famous left hook. To his credit George gamely refused to fall but the referee saved him in round four. Again just as it appeared that George’s tenure as a top contender was over Chuvalo got one more chance. An impressive upset kayo win over highly regarded Mexican Manuel Ramos put him back in the rankings. His success was short lived. In 1969 he met huge Buster Mathis. Buster’s only loss had been to Frazier and he needed to win to set up a rematch with Joe or a shot at the W.B.A. titleholder Jimmy Ellis. Mathis who was a fine boxer for a big man gave George a boxing lesson over twelve rounds. George closed out 1969 in a “White Hope” battle versus popular but erratic Jerry Quarry. For six rounds the Irishman outboxed Chuvalo who was cut and bleeding. Jerry looked to be on his way to a comfortable point win or even a TKO. In round seven George went for broke and clubbed Jerry to the canvas. Quarry was listening to the referee’s count on one knee but at “10” he failed to rise. Jerry quickly jumped up and claimed he had lost track of the count but his protesting fell on deaf ears and Chuvalo’s kayo victory had him back in the top ten.
The win over Quarry landed George another bout with an Olympic hero. George Foreman had won the Gold Medal in 1968 and he was climbing quickly up the professional ladder. A win over Chuvalo would look nice on his record. The bigger, stronger Foreman was in control from the start. He pummeled Chuvalo at will and in the third round he sent Chuvalo reeling across the ring. Only the ropes prevented a knockdown. Still Chuvalo kept his feet but was defenseless against Foreman’s follow up barrage and the referee stepped in. In 1971 Chuvalo dropped a ten round duke to ex-champion Jimmy Ellis. George did manage a points win over still dangerous ex-contender Cleveland Williams. In 1972 Chuvalo got yet another opportunity as he again faced Muhammad Ali. Ali had lost to Frazier in 1971’s “Battle of the Century” and now he was taking on all comers while awaiting a rematch with Joe. Although George gave a respectable showing the great Ali again outclassed him.
From this point on George slowly faded from the picture. He hung around a few more years dominating the Canadian heavyweight scene but his days as a world class contender were over. Still after absorbing the punches of Ali, Frazier, Foreman, Quarry, Patterson and Ellis he stood tall with his feet planted firmly on the ground. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
Jim Amato is a participating member of both the Boxing Writers Association of America and the International Boxing Research Organization. He is a longtime correspondent of sport, both inside and outside the ring, and he is currently the president and owner of Amato Sports Memorabilia. Jim’s other works and “Legends of Leather” articles can be found at http://boxinggreats.multiply.com
By Aaron Lloyd
In the early part of the twentieth century it was not uncommon for boxers of a certain ethnicity or denomination to assume the identity or pseudonym of a different group in order to increase their fan base and improve their overall stock to matchmakers. Jewish fighters often took on the personas and monikers of Irish fighters when looking to land fights in predominantly Irish locales, while others, like Max Baer (who was a quarter Jewish on his mother’s side) were not above sporting the Star of David in cases when it enflamed and inspired (as it did in his fight with “Aryan Ambassador” Max Schmeling in 1933*). In some cases, however, the assumed names were simply a cover to avoid the ire of disapproving parents. Boxing promoter Russell J. Peltz once quipped, “I tell people that Jewish fighters were as tough as they come … but they were all afraid of their mothers.” One of the most famous examples of a fighter forsaking his heritage is that of junior welterweight champion Vincent Morris Scheer, who held the world title from 1926 to 1930 under the alias “Mushy Callahan.” Scheer, Jewish by birth, originally adopted the Irish moniker during his days on the West Coast in an effort to create a greater following, but eventually found himself so immersed in the yarn that he later converted to Catholicism, he married an Irish girl, and he had a son that went on to join the priesthood. In his later years, Callahan also served as a creative consultant and technical director on such films as Gentleman Jim (starring Errol Flynn), Kid Galahad (starring Elvis Presley), and The Great White Hope (starring James Earl Jones).
One of the more interesting stories to involve the feigning of nationality, however, occurred during the lightweight showdown between the great “Ghetto Wizard” Benny Leonard and “Irish” Eddie Finnegan in the early part of the twentieth century. Leonard, often the target of anti-Semitic directed language throughout much of his career, happened to grow particularly tired of the insults and offensive epithets being hurled at him by the pro-Irish crowd on this particular night, and as a result, decided to extend and intensify the beating he was giving his Irish counterpart. Leonard, not typically known for inflicting punishment with such disregard, stepped up his attack, and rather than coast to an easy victory, decided to go “Muhammad Ali to Finnegan’s Ernie Terrell” and batter his helpless opponent mercilessly round after round. Finally, when Finnegan could take no more, he grabbed Leonard, and in Yiddish, revealed to him that his name was actually Seymour Rosenbaum, and implored Leonard to go easy on him. Leonard did ultimately relent, and Rosenbaum, who continued to fight as Eddie Finnegan, fought the remainder of his modest career without ever squaring off against another Jewish fighter. The rest is boxing history…
* In May of 2008 Max Baer received a “Borderline Jew” rating of “10” from www.jewornotjew.com, a considerably lower score than that of Moses (14), Benny Leonard (13), Barney Ross (13), or Larry Fine (12).
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