Not a lot of people know this but...

Have to go off to work, JD, but definitely will do it later.

 

............When you get back, I'd love to hear some more about Mando Ramos and Bobby Chacon. I've read stories from you about both, but would like to read them again. Two of my favorites.

 

Jack, clear your inbox, I cant reply.

 

Give DiMaggio a break. He probably needed the money. Marilyn had expensive tastes.

On DiMaggio--Joe was a great player but he seems to have been a bit of a jerk. Mickey Mantle was hurt by the way DiMaggio snubbed him when he was a rookie with the Yankees. Mantle later went out of his way to be nice to rookies who might have idolized him when they were boys. In later years, DiMaggio insisted that he be introduced last at old timer games. When the Yankees introduced Mantle last at "Mickey Mantle day" in 1969, DiMaggio went into a snit against Yankee management that lasted for years until the ownership changed.

 

Sorted:good

 

I love that Joe D. story JG. I'd heard about that $5 fee, but it seems like he could have made an exception in a situation like that. Wasn't the meal gonna be on the house? That story reminded me of Frank Sinatra who was close to Joe at one time, but was barred from the Marilyn Monroe funeral, as Joe still blamed him for Marilyn's demise, Frank as beard for Jack Kennedy. You ever run into Frank in your travels? A guy who rubbed alot of people the wrong way but was I think a big boxing fan; I'd heard of his generosities to guys like Louis and Robinson.

 

When Freddie Roach teamed with Mike Tyson, he got punched in the face when Tyson accidentally missed a pad after puking when Freddie insisted he continue working.

“Everything began to go dark, Freddie said.

“Where you afraid you were going out? I asked

“I was afraid I was gonna die.”

 

Check your PM box, Ck

 

In the late ‘60s, I went to the old Madison Square Garden to see a main-go between two Latin fighters, one Cuban, the other Puerto Rican.

The Garden’s a tinderbox; any spark will set it off.

The main event’s hotly contested -- could go either way. When the decision’s announced, the losing side -- already spoiling for a fight -- attacks the winner's fans. Everybody’s raining beer bottles into the ring. Fighters, seconds, and TV people dive under the ring.

Broken furniture and everything that can be ripped loose is heaved. The main floor is shelled -- shrapnel whizzing in every direction – brawlers racing for cover. It’s a war zone.

Lunatics in the cheap seats yank the red fire spears off the walls and fling them down. I shudder at someone being impaled -- hug the ground, barely able see from under my seat.

Then, from the far end of the arena comes a stocky, curly-haired figure -- vaguely familiar -- in a double-breasted suit, walking purposefully -- not rushing -- through the hellacious barrage. No other life form dares move.

As he gets closer, I recognize the pugnacious set of his shoulders -- the John Wayne walk: world-famous novelist, Norman Mailer. He doesn’t duck, flinch, blink or avoid anything walking to the other side of the arena. Metal and shards and jagged hunks crisscross every inch of him until he exits through advancing police with shields held high.

Russian Roulette with no empty chambers.

What would possess Mailer to do it, a man of his intellect? Drink? Drugs? Both? A macho head-trip? A search for enlightenment? Or, was he like the guy that jumped off a bridge? And when asked why, said, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

It was never mentioned in the morning papers and Mailer's never spoken of it or addressed it in any of his work. But, finally, after more than 40 years, he may have revealed why he did such a suicidal thing in a sentence about his philosophy of life in his book THE SPOOKY ART: "...he has had the courage to be bold where others might cry insanity."

 

Friday is Larry Holmes's drinking day and he feels most generous when loaded up.

 

John Garfield's stuff here is gold. The Mailer story made me laugh but I'm not surprised, Old Norman loved a good ding-dong and any excuse to try out his limited but enthusiastic skills was always welcome. He wanted to be like Hemingway in more ways than one. :yep

 

Is Friday the day he allows you to spit and not swallow?

 

Appreciate the props, M

 

Keep 'em coming. I'm loving this thread.

 

I trained at Stillman's with a rugged, undefeated pro middleweight. There was buzz about him as a contender.

He had a walk-in, crowd-pleasing style -- idolized Carmen Basilio, who was also handled by his manager, Al Braverman. At every opportunity, he pushed Braverman to introduce him to Basilio.

Finally, he got on a Basilio undercard in Syracuse and begged Braverman again to meet Carmen. So, Braverman arranged it. Carmen said hello, shook his hand and wished him luck.

When Basilio walked away, the fighter turned to Braverman: "I'm not gonna look like him, am I?"