Other kids my age could rattle off the names of pro baseball or football players, but when it came to boxing, I stood out?
Though I vaguely remember Bob Satterfield slaughtering Art McWhorter as an eight-year-old in 1945, the first impactful professional fight I witnessed was held at the same Marigold Gardens Outdoor Arena on the north side of Chicago on June 6, 1948.
The storied Marigold, also known for professional wrestling, was filled with cigar smoke, boxing being a bastion of political incorrectness and all. Of course, none of that idiocy existed back then. The smell of sweat, beer, cigars, and Italian sausage mixed with an occasional whiff of perfume provided a comfortable, if pungent, setting for this eleven-year-old as my dad, ?Big John? as he was known, thought it was time we enjoyed a professional fight together. God knows he had had to break up many street fights so maybe he was working an ?agenda? (another word that thankfully was unknown back then).
We had seen plenty of amateur fights at Rock-Ola Stadium just across the road from our home on the northwest side. Rock-Ola manufactured jukeboxes. We also saw amateurs fight at Parichy Stadium in Forest Park, Blue Bird Field in the western suburbs, and at many a beery union hall. But the atmosphere here was different. While there were men of different ages in the seats and lots attractive women, most of the audience seemed to be composed of men in their late twenties or early thirties who had a devil-may-care aura about them, though a hard look remained in their eyes even when they smiled. I later learned that the majority had fought in World War II which, of course, ended in 1945. In my young and envious eyes, these were men like my late brother who served valiantly from 1942?45.
Raadik vs. Bell
We had great seats about three rolls from ringside. The featured fighters were two tough hombres, Anton Raadik (26-8), out of Chicago by way of Estonia, vs. Tommy Bell (44-16-3), out of Youngstown, Ohio. Raadik, a big favorite among ethnic Chicago fans, fought from 1940-1952. Opponents included the great Marcel Cerdan (102-2) whom he knocked down a remarkable three times in the last round while losing a clear decision. According to an account from the Chicago Tribune, ?Raadik was credited with only one round, the 10th, in which he pushed the weary Frenchman to the canvas for a three count, then dropped him for two counts of four with right hand punches before the final bell rang.? Anton fought the likes of Rhode Island?s great Ralph Zannelli, Georgie Abrams whom he TKOd in a savage beating that ended Abrams? career, another popular Chicagoan Anton Christoforidis, Jake and Joey LaMotta, Carl ?Bobo? Olson, Steve Belloise (90-11), Danny Nardico, Harry ?Kid? Matthews (twice),Sonny Horne (twice), and Robert Villemain.
Two months before this 10-round fight, Bell, who fought from 1942-1951, lost a split decision to Kid Gavilan. Indeed, Tommy?s resume included a who?s who of great fighters: California Jackie Wilson (twice), Sugar Ray Robinson (twice), Jake LaMotta (three times), Al Hostak, Steve Belloise of the Bronx?s fighting Belloise brothers, Fritzie Zivic (157-65-9 for an astounding total of 231 fights), and Cecil Hudson. The combined won-lost record of Tommy Bell?s opposition is staggering.
His first loss to Sugar Ray Robinson occurred in 1946 and according to newspaper accounts, Robinson finally got a shot at the title, having waited five years. The title had been vacated by Marty Servo in September. The first five rounds were hard ones for Robinson, including a knockdown for a seven-count in round two from a left hook by Bell. According to Jimmy Cannon of the New York Post, ?Robinson then won the 6th, 7th, 8th, and 9th rounds. Bell took the 10th. Bell was dropped in the 11th for ?eight,? and battered in the 12th. Tommy came back to win the 13th & 14th rounds, although both rounds were slow. No mention was made of the 15th.?
Based on the level of his opposition, Bell was a slight favorite. That night at Marigold, I noticed that cash was changing hands fast between men with big cigars or cigarettes dangling from their lips. It all added to the excitement as the boxers came out from their dressing rooms to a loud and ethnically raucous audience?the sound was almost guttural. No music, no long trunks, no posturing or theatrics, no entourages, no belt waving. Just serious-looking men with their trainers and cutmen ready to toil in the stifling humidity of a hot Chicago night. By the time the fighters made it to the ring, the fans were howling, some in Estonian, some in Chicagoan, and some in a strange-sounding combination.
The boxers were introduced, and each modestly nodded to the crowd in the manner of the great Joe Louis. They were given their instructions by the referee, headed back to their corners, and then the bell rang.
From the beginning, it was Raadik stalking Bell but never really catching him. As the rounds went by, Bell kept the incoming Raadik off of him with neat jabs, a slick defense, and good foot movement (at which the fans began to boo). But finally in the eighth Raadik landed some body shots that made a ?whump? sound.
In the ninth Raadik caught the favorite on the ropes and attacked viciously to the body. When Bell dropped his hands, it gave Anton his opportunity and he launched a series of malicious blows to Bell?s head that forced Tommy to one knee. When a bleeding Bell got up, he fell backward into the ropes and was done. The tough-as-nails Estonian-Chicagoan had won by TKO in the ninth and the hometown fans were up and roaring, including my dad.
Money was again exchanged in plain sight, and slushy beers were toasted. Right then and there I caught the fever of this great sport, and when Raadik winked at me from the ring while his hand was being raised in victory, a chill went down my spine. I was hooked. This was no poetic rite of passage; this was plain old manly stuff. I was in it?hook, line and. sinker.
Tommy Bell, a road warrior, would go on to close his career with a 53-29- 3 slate. Tommy lost 12 of his last 15, mostly on points. His last fight was a six-round TKO loss to Pierre Langlois in Paris. Raadik was another who would fight anywhere in the world; he finished 37-25-1. He lost 13 of his last 15?his last to rugged Garth Panter in Boise, Idaho by 10-round UD.
After the fight and as we headed for a pizza, I asked when we could see our next fight, and my dad said something about Rainbow Arena. It turned out to be the cavernous Chicago Stadium one month later where we watched Raadik avenge a prior defeat to Sonny Horne.
I had found a whole new world. Soon, I would come to know names like Lee Sala, Speiser, Janiro, Beau Jack, Gene Burton, Davey, Vejar, Gavilan, Ike Williams, and, Johnny Bratton (one of Chicago?s most popular fighters ever). Others were Anton Christoforidis, Satterfield, Marciano, the two LaMottas, Graziano, Louis, Charles, Saxton, Gene ?Silent? Hairston (a great favorite on Gillette?s Friday Night Fights), Dykes, Fusari, Rex Layne, Lee Oma, Zale, Laverne Roach (who would be fatally injured in a bloody televised fight that I witnessed in horror), Holly Mims, Enrico Bertola (who also would be fatally injured), and many lesser-known boxers who fought in the Chicago area.
Other kids my age could rattle off the names of pro baseball or football players, but when it came to boxing, I stood out. They might know about Jackie Robinson but I knew about Sugar Ray Robinson. They might know Ted Williams or Joe DiMaggio, but I knew Ike Williams and Jersey Joe Walcott. They might know baseball, but I knew boxing. This was my indoctrination period, an era that is sometimes referred to as ?Old School,? but for me, it was neither better nor worse than watching a competitive bout today. It was simply a joyous beginning. I was hooked and I have been feeding my addiction ever since.
How did you get hooked (on boxing)?
