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Philippines, 22 Jan 2026 |
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A Filipino and an American Homecoming By Emmanuel Rivera, RRT PhilBoxing.com Thu, 09 Oct 2025  Every celebration begins with the lives that gave it weight and meaning. Family, friends, strangers, acquaintances, colleagues, revered mentors, and the rare editors we meet along the way all help make our narrative complete. The quest I embarked upon, in and out of the squared circle, began with two men who were the best of pals…My late father, Hermenegildo Ordoña Rivera, also known as Hermie, and Jacob Quincy Finkelstein— Jack Fiske. One was born in the City of Pines, Baguio. The other came from the Bronx, New York. In 1983 their paths crossed in San Francisco, where the stories of Filipino boxers became legend. To me, they were great mentors. To each other, they were friends who carried the same fire. Even today, their memory continues to guide as we gather for Bangon Kabayan: Pistahan sa Fulton — a celebration set for October 11, from 12:00 to 5:00 at the Fulton Steps in San Francisco. May this tribute honor their memory, and may the event itself carry forward their legacy.  My father was born in 1938 in Baguio City, where pine trees brushed the clouds and cool winds carried both Filipino warmth and American influence. As a young man at Camp John Hay, he worked tables and polished his grasp of the English language from American soldiers and teachers. But what mattered wasn’t just the words — it was how he listened to their stories, their laughter, even the silence in between. In 1965, in Dagupan, he met Cristina Pasaoa — our mother — and together they raised six children. By 1983, we had crossed the Pacific and made our home in the Bay Area. Wherever he went, he carried the Philippines with him: in his humor, in his voice, in the way he told a story. Boxing was his compass and his metaphor. He managed champions like Luisito “Lindol” Espinosa and Morris East, and spoke on radio and television with the same sharp eye he once used at ringside. But boxing, to him, was never just about championships and titles. It was about life — falling, getting up, moving forward. His lessons always carried the rhythm of the ring: never stop; never stay down.  Jack Fiske Jack Fiske — born Jacob Quincy Finkelstein in 1917 — grew up in the Bronx, served as a medic in World War II, and found his calling in words. By 1950, he was at The San Francisco Chronicle, where his column “Punching the Bag” became a lifeline for fight fans for over 40 years. His writing was crisp, sharp; and what made him unforgettable was the way he honored the fighter’s journey. He covered Muhammad Ali and Sonny Liston, Sandy Saddler and Flash Elorde, both Luisito Espinosa and Morris East…and every other boxer of significance…always showing that a bout was never just a contest. His home on Robblee Street was filled with photos, mementos and boxing ephemera, and seemed less like a house and more like a museum. According to legend, ‘The Greatest’ once paused a press conference to ask Mr. Fiske if he had a question for him. To many — myself included — Jack was a mentor. And to my father, he was a trusted friend. Together they showed me that behind every punch was a person with a hidden story; behind every fighter, a proud people.  Becoming Giants It was Saint Patrick’s Day, 1990, at Lefty O’Doul’s on Geary Street…The smell of corned beef in the air, a cable car rattling outside, and from the speakers, Tony Bennett’s voice…crooning…I Left My Heart in San Francisco. At our table sat four fans of the sweet science—Luisito Espinosa, then WBA world bantamweight champion, my father, Hermie, Jack Fiske, and myself. “They called them Little Brown Dolls,” Jack said — pride in his voice, but also sadness. He knew those men were giants limited to a phrase too small. My father leaned back, smiled faintly… and said, “And how they could fight.” That moment has stayed with me. My father and Jack collaborated on writing two enduring masterpieces about Filipino boxers — “Little Brown Dolls: A Gallery of Philippine Boxing Champions” and “The Best of a Nation: Philippines” featured in the San Francisco Chronicle, The Philippine Daily Inquirer and The Ring (The Bible of Boxing), respectively. And their words inspired this aspiring writer. From that day forward, I began my own quest. I followed the trail that led to the arenas where Filipino fists once thundered; the Olympic Stadium in Santa Cruz, Manila, Dreamland Rink in San Francisco, Cow Palace in Daly City, where Gabriel “Flash” Elorde fought Sandy Saddler, and the Bill Graham Civic Auditorium — a block from Fulton Plaza — where Little Pancho fought Little Dado in 1940, and where Manny Pacquiao fought Agapito Sánchez in 2001. Some fighters carried our pride across oceans. Others, like Gaudencio “Kid Dencio” Cabanela and Inocencio “Clever Sencio” Moldez gave everything in faraway lands and never made it back home. After my father passed, I found a bag on his desk — worn Levinson gloves, some wrapped in cloth, with a note in his hand: “You’ll know what to do with these.” I knew then — they weren’t souvenirs. They were tangible pieces of memory, waiting to be carried forward. The Friendship and the Torch What bonded my father and Jack together was simple…they believed the Filipino boxers and fighters mattered. Their struggles in the ring reflected the immigrant’s journey — dignity fought for, round after round. Before their voices grew quiet, they left us their stories. Those stories became the seed of what we humbly call the Philippine Boxing Historical Society and Hall of Fame.  Bangon, Kabayan: Pistahan sa Fulton The journey has come full circle. From the island of Mactan to the Golden Gate Strait… From Baguio City and the Bronx, from Avenida Rizal in Santa Cruz, Manila , from the Olympic Stadium to Dreamland Rink and the Civic Auditorium — all paths lead here, to San Francisco….To Fulton Plaza, where the San Francisco Public Library and the Asian Art Museum now face each other. As a boy, Iingered in the old Library — now the museum — while my father and Jack spoke of Francisco Tingson Guilledo (the Pinoy Pancho Villa), Ceferino Garcia, Speedy Dado, and others once described as Little Brown Dolls. Today, the memories of our Filipino boxing greats return — carried into this plaza, into an exhibit we’ve shaped in the spirit of a bahay kubo, humble and familiar, complete with a kulambo draped as though to guard their legacy. We simply call it Boxiana, in honor of Pierce Egan. Mr. Egan never saw Filipinos fight, but he can be assured the Pinoys carried the torch of boxing with pride. He once wrote of ‘pluck and bottom’ — courage and endurance — qualities ingrained in every Filipino who stepped into the ring and kept rising. And if you listen closely, one can almost hear Tony Bennett again: I left my heart in San Francisco… For the city, it is an anthem; for us, a prayer — that their legacies stay rooted here, beating still in the heart of the city.  Keep Punchin’ My father left us on January 15, 2016 — he was 77. Jack Fiske had gone about ten years before. And I am very sure that they are both smiling from up above and proud of the image of their friend— the great Gabriel “Flash” Elorde gracing the flyer of our celebration on October 11, 2025. Mabuhay. Salamat. Long live! Thanks. And as my father always said: Keep punchin’… and rise from the canvas like the ‘Greatest Boxers Made in the Philippines’. Click here to view a list of other articles written by Emmanuel Rivera, RRT.  |
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