I seen an ad in The Bollard:Boxing at the Expo. Boy, don’t that bring back memories. If you don’t care for an old man with nostalgia, just stop now. Everyone’s got schoolboy memories. But mine are fight memories.
I was very fortunate to have spent my formative years every Tuesday and Thursday at the Expo. My first memory was of a Thursday night. Thursday was boxing and Tuesday wrestling. Portland was nicknamed Fight City. I’m not sure who fought that night. There was no blood or KO’s. But I do remember skippin’ my science project to go there.
It’s funny how nowadays there is nothing so idiotic as two men getting into a ring, trying to beat each other to pieces. The only thing worser is people that pay for it. But boy, as a lad, I’d be first one in, last out. And I wasn’t the only one. Every night was a sellout. Well, mostly. I’m talking over 3,000 people.
We got to know the boxers well because of the way we snuck in. We’d go in the side door early, before security was watching. (If you go in, look for the bottom right-hand door.)
Now, the wrestlers were different. Samurai Sam and his pals started yellin’ at us kids. We didn’t start that feud — I swear on my mother’s grave. See, the boxers would just wink and laugh and say, “Hurry up!” Maybe boxers made more money.
I tell you, my brother Sam (Grimaldi, I think, I hope) was the envy of all. Tommy Fontaine brought him to the gym they worked out at. Yeah, they’d work out together, even if they were on the same card.
Generally, every Thursday would be two four-rounders, a six and an eight. Back in the ’60s you could still smoke. I swear you needed a gas mask going to them matches, and you didn’t have to bring your butts — there was plenty of smoke for you. And the only thing that could outdo the smoke was the noise. A large part of the crowd would bring a sip, of course. All of which made a rollicking night.
As for the wrestling, although I said we had a minor skirmish, we still had fun. I was going out with the girl whose father filled in for the boss of wrestling. The gals would always get the ringside seating and scream bloody murder. I’ve heard stories of women actually brawling with their husbands. I tell you, them girls would pick up and throw anything they could reach, even pocketbooks (empty, of course).
In the heyday, I remember once two wrestlers ran outdoors to Tony’s, ordered a sandwich and came back and fought. Another time they had an ambulance come and take somebody. Just for show, of course.
But I’ll tell you, boxing or wrestling, nobody ever wanted their money back. Once, when Pete Riccitelli was light-heavy champ of New England, the Portland Press ran a three-page article on his biography. See, that’s the stuff that got us known as Fight City.
I’m speaking of a lost era, one I’ll never forget. You ever heard the phrase, “I should’ve wrote a book?” Those days bring a tear to my eye, but alas.
Thursday is still Fight Night for me, but it’s not people bashing heads, it’s machines. Don’t I just love BattleBots! I’m getting the same adrenaline as I got at the Expo. Maybe I’m just a softie and I should be embarrassed for not watching a slug fest. I don’t know.
I surely know what I like to think about it. I’m mature and intelligent enough to give guys credit for making the machines they make. It gives me enjoyment, as much as anything. Have you guys ever seen it? Try it. I seen them bots fly so high that if there weren’t a ceiling, goodness knows when they’d come down.
I think the whole Vietnam thing sort of changed things for everyone. Like Clint Eastwood said in one of his flicks, “Damn war took a part of everyone.” One of my best pals, Ricky Craney, one of the best up-and-comers, a lightweight, lost his brother in Asia. Really nice guy.
Well, Ricky quit. Wouldn’t hit another guy, ever.
I guess I’m different than most guys. Catch and release, barbless hooks, never shoot. Maybe I just got a heart. Maybe during ’nam a lot of folks got a heart. Obviously not all of us.
I think I know why boxing died out. Weed. Yeah, folks started laughing and forgetting what day it is and finding more fun stuff to do. That was the end of an era, but an era I don’t care to see come back.
